All language subtitles for Martin.Eden.2019 1080

So the world is stronger than me.

Against its power
I have nothing but myself,

which, in any case, is quite something.

For as long as I don't let myself
get overwhelmed, I am also a force.

And my force is fearsome
as long as I have the power of my words

to counter that of the world.

Those who build prisons

don't express themselves as well
as those who build freedom.

He's handsome, isn't he?

- He must be popular with girls.
- Very.

All right, girls, now it's your turn
to ask the men to dance!

Ask him to dance.

- Should I?
- Go!

What are you doing?

- Leave him alone.
- Mind your fucking business!

My fucking business...

Do you want me to get you?

- Motherfucker!
- Move it.

Are you sure I can come in?

Don't worry, my parents are open-minded.

I was looking at this painting.
From a distance it's beautiful.

But close-up you only see stains.

It's an illusion.

I'm Elena Orsini.

Martin Eden.

You were very courageous, Mister Eden.

Anyone would have done it.

Before I was reading this.

- "Bau-de-laire".
- Baudelaire.

- Baudelaire.
- Correct.

Is he alive?

Do you think he's alive?

Is he French?

- Sure.
- It's written in French.

I can speak French, too.

- Can you?
- Yes.

"Hi!"

- My name is "Marteen".
- "My name is Martin."

"Martin" sounds more French.

My name is Elena.

Nice to meet you.

My pleasure.

Do you like Baudelaire?

Yeah.

I was skimming through it.
He's better than the others.

This is his masterpiece.

Many of his poems are a little... bold.

Bold?
Well, so am I.

So are you.

Good.

Elena, dear?

Matilde...

I'd like to introduce you to Mr Eden.

Mr Eden, she's my mother.

- Nice to meet you.
- How can I thank you for Arturo?

Please have lunch with us.

- Do you travel much Mr Eden?
- I started when I was young.

How old were you
when you started traveling?

I was eleven.

What's that scar?
How did you get it?

This one?

A wretch did it to me.

Now he walks with a limp!

You should have seen
how he punched out that security guard.

A big man with a mean face.

The government should spend more
on education. Don't you agree Mr Eden?

I believe that if this is education

and the sauce is poverty,

if you use education...

poverty disappears.

Excuse me.
I just wanted to mop up the sauce.

It's so good.

- You are very likeable, Mr Eden.
- Thank you.

So are you.

I hope you were not bored.

Bored?

It was the best day of my life.
It really was.

I'm not used to this.
It's all new to me.

Goodbye.

- Hi, Martin.
- Hi, Mariano.

How are you?

Bring out the water!

- Hi, uncle.
- Hi, uncle.

What's up, Martin?

Tonight you look like you're in love.

Tomorrow
you have to come and work with me.

That jerk Nirone is out sick yet again.

I've got things to do. I can't come.

Giulia, did you hear him?

He's just taking advantage of us.

He pays when he feels like it,
he comes and goes.

What's that book?

Do you even know how to open a book?

Bring some money home, not books!

- Did you understand?
- Leave him be.

Don't you dare interrupt me
when I'm talking to your brother!

- He hasn't paid this month's rent.
- He will.

Yeah, sure!
I can't stand him!

SPLEEN AND IDEAL

One more scare like this
and I'll end up in hospital.

How much?

How many?
Two, four, six, eight, ten.

10,000 lira.

- 3,000 lira.
- These are good books. 10,000 lira.

He knows they're good.

You're always interfering!

You and your stinky cigarette!

OK, take them.

You're always interfering.

I started reading.

I read everything that I can
with a hunger to read, to learn.

I decided that I want to be like you.

Speak like you, think like you...

But how can I do this?

- If you could show me, could tell me...
- "If you showed me."

"If you told me."

Mr Eden,
what you need is an education.

All you have to do
is to go back to school.

When did you stop studying?

- In the last year of primary school.
- You should start from there and study.

I see you've got the intelligence.

You need money to study.

I'm sure
that your family would not ignore

such an important objective.

I guess I'll have to study
off my own back.

I'll have to walk down
the path of education.

If you told me...
If you showed me how...

Just study hard.

Let me lend you a good grammar book.

Thank you.

On the Nunziatina
I'll have time to study.

Elena.

- Father!
- How are you?

I'm fine.
This is Mr Eden.

Nice to meet you.

I suppose
I must be the last person to thank you

for the help you gave to Arturo.

Then this must be the last time I say,
"You're welcome."

Mr Eden seems to me
to be a very capable young man.

He is.

Let's go look for the grammar book.

I didn't want to interrupt you.

- We must be going.
- Sure.

Goodbye.

Dear Elena,
The ship's engine was severely damaged.

We were forced to dock
at the port of Genoa.

The ship owner decided to reduce the crew

so my contract was terminated.

Back in Naples,
I immediately began to look for a job.

Eventually,
thanks to my dear friend Nino,

I've been hired by a foundry.

Anyway,

I want to tell you about my incessant march
through the kingdom of knowledge.

I read!
I read like an insatiable fisherman.

I note down new words.
I turn them into my friends.

I hang out with them.

Where possible, I use them
to describe the phenomena that I see.

You'll find attached to this letter

some poems I wrote
to do further practice.

Don't judge them too harshly.

It's just wordplay,

but I hope they'll make you proud
of your now distant disciple.

As soon as I return
I will tell you about an idea,

regarding my future life,

that is lighting up my thoughts.

Is it too hard, my child?

You're here to work,

not to twiddle your fucking thumbs.

Dear Mr Eden,

Thank you for your letter.
I was very happy to receive it.

I'm very well.

Life goes on.
I spend boring days studying.

I have read your poems
with great interest.

I find them an example of diligence
and proof of your dedication.

However, I don't know
how to pass artistic judgment

because the argument of your verses
is far removed from my experience,

but I know that
everything that you write is true

and that you have seen it
with your eyes.

Oh, Martin.

This place is a shithole.

We work hard all day long.

They treat us like shit.

I drink my pay.

There are no women around.
Hand-jobs only.

One more week.

- Then we go back to Naples.
- Naples?

Nobody's waiting for me in Naples.

Where am I supposed to go?

I'm better off homeless.

Better a live tramp than a dead slave.

- What?
- We need to rest.

- What's going on?
- It's nothing.

- I need a rest!
- What the fuck are you doing?

You pissed me off!

- Is it too much for you?
- You pissed me off!

- You pissed me off!
- Then quit!

- You're picking on me!
- Stop it!

I'll smash your head in!

- You pissed me off! I'm through with this.
- Get out!

- I've had enough!
- Both of you.

You won't get this week's pay.
You hear me?

Give us our money!

Twenty each.

Twenty for me, twenty for you.
This is what you owe me.

This is yours.

You're trash!

Motherfucking assholes!

During these months
I've reflected on my situation.

And I felt a creative spirit
burning inside, that urged me...

to turn myself into one of the eyes
through which the world sees.

I want to become a writer.

This I resolved to do.

You see, I don't know much about it.

But I believe that the profession
of writing is just like any other.

And just like all the others
it has its requirements.

So you disapprove of my decision?

It's not that.

I only fear that your enthusiasm
could make you lose sight

of the problems involved
with the enterprise.

I don't underestimate such problems.

But let me ask you this:

what if I were particularly gifted
in writing?

But however talented,

I've never heard of someone
learning a trade

without an apprenticeship.

Tell me what you advise.

You need a complete education, Mr Eden.

Even if you don't become a writer.

The Ancient Roman Civilization arose
under the shadow of violence and faith,

the force of desire and possession
of the God of War, Mars,

and the chastity
of the Vestal Virgin Rhea Silva,

father and mother of Romulus and Remus,
virtue and force.

Yes, Mr Eden.

But I only asked you to name
the seven Kings of Rome.

It was just an introduction.

Tell me about the Draconian Constitution.

Does it come before or after
the Solonian Constitution?

- After.
- No!

Before!

Give me another chance.

That's enough for us, Mr Eden.

Mr Eden,

you are lacking in general culture.

In our opinion,
you should return to primary school.

- Primary school?
- Yes.

But perhaps only for two years.

Thank you.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Oh my!

WE PUBLISH STORIES BY YOUNG AUTHORS.
MAXIMUM LENGTH 15,000 WORDS.

EXCELLENT RATES OF PAY

That day

God Almighty had left the faucet open.

The city became a sea,

and people
were like fish floating on the waves.

They feared the waves.

Did you like it?

It's nice.

But it's sad.
Why don't you write lighter things?

Why should I?

It's too sad!
Why do you write things like these?

I don't get it. Don't you like it?

Don't take this wrong, I like it.
It's just too sad.

- What's wrong with sadness?
- I wouldn't want to read it!

- Really?
- Yeah.

It's too real. People need to laugh!

It's quite old.

- It's a good typewriter.
- Really?

It's dusty!

- Bring on a duster.
- I'm on it.

- What do you need this for?
- For typing.

- Type what?
- I will become a writer.

I like it.

Do you write poems?

Yes. Sometimes.

Why don't you dedicate a poem to me?

POST OFFICE

- Elena?
- Orange soda.

- OK. And you?
- Sure, orange soda.

Excuse me, miss!

We'd like to order. Four orange sodas.

- Right away.
- Thanks.

What a pretty girl.

I'm glad that you find a waitress pretty.

If she had the chance to dress well,
men would be dazzled.

I'm sure if she spoke to you,
you'd hardly understand her.

She'd have to learn grammar.

I used to be like that girl.
But I've changed.

Now I understand many things.

- Here you are.
- Thank you.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

You like it?

For your fiancée.

Thank you.

FIRST PRINCIPLES

"Evolution is the universal law,

"exemplified throughout the heavens
and on the earth;

"especially throughout the organic world.

"The universe is intelligent and it evolves
according to an inexorable law:

"the law of evolution.

"The more man evolves,

"the more he is able to understand
the laws of the universe,

"but man cannot answer
one fundamental question.

"Why is it so?

"What generated it?

"This universal evolution is displayed alike
in the development of a planet

"and of every seed
which germinates on its surface,

"holds also of its societies.

"And may be seen in class struggle."

Isn't the light from the table lamp
enough for you to read?

Electricity is not for free!

Fuck off.

Neapolitan workers

demonstrated that they are
no longer slaves to capitalism.

We must carry on with the strike.

Don't do it!

You'll get all upset.

Listen to me.

Today the union has called a strike.

I agree with the strike,
but I'm against the union.

If you workers want to work,

you have to pay a tax to the government
and another fee to the union.

This is absurd!

The right to work
is not the right of the individual,

but a right of the union,

a right that the union sells

and the worker has to buy.

You socialists dream of a revolution
that will make the State your own

so that this gives equal rights to all.

But who are these "all"?

The workers' organizations
through their unions,

not single workers.

Where's the individual

in your politics?

What do you make of him?

Go away!

You morons!

Go to hell!

You dipshit!

Fuck off! Go away!

Wretches!

You're not very popular here.
You or Herbert Spencer.

Give me some tobacco.

- Thanks.
- I thought you spoke very well.

They don't like it. They only fight
to have new bosses, you see?

Martin.

- Again?
- It's nothing.

RETURN TO SENDER

I'm sorry for the "raine".

"Rain."

Man can't control nature.

You're getting better!

I'm amazed.

- Do you like it here?
- Very.

So you want to go back to sea?

Yes. Alas, I need money.

I can ask my father for help.

I already told you
about Mr Gargiulo, didn't I?

He used to be a simple office boy.
Now he's a famous accountant.

I can ask my father
to give you a hand, too.

Thank you, but...

I'm not made for office work.

I prefer to travel.

Always moving.

There's only one reason
which keeps me from leaving.

What?

Do you love me?

From the first time I saw you.

I've never loved before.

We'll learn together.

Be nice to me, please.

Very nice.

- Hi.
- See you.

Come here, Martin. Sit down!

What's up?

- Everything OK?
- Yeah.

Bring him a glass.

Let's make a toast.

I don't drink.

This is good news. See?
I knew he was sorting himself out.

This was in the mail.

RETURN TO SENDER

What is it?

What is it, Martin?

Another story got sent back.

Forget those newspapers.

You won't make it with them.

You need a good word
from someone important. A helping hand.

You understand?

With me, on the other hand,
things are starting to move.

I need a hand.

I've already made you a proposal,
but you said you were not up to it.

But now I can give you a good wage.

It's a good job.

Aren't you listening to me?

I can't hear you.

I'd rather drink poison
than break my back for you.

Stop!

You heard him?

He'd rather drink poison
than work for me. Shame on you!

He has to go.

Tell him he has to go.
Move or I'll punch you, too!

Help me god!

He's trying to order me around.

I'm sorry.

Good boy!

I see you're getting busy, aren't you?

And another thing:

work your ass off, you trash!

You're a sad little man.

Didn't Christ say that
a camel is better than a rich man?

Buy my socks!
Socks!

Socks.

Was he not the first socialist?

Socks!

What have you got inside there?

In here?

A typewriter.

See?

Here are the keys:

- A, B, C...
- D.

What do you do with it?

I write.

- Are you a journalist?
- I'm a writer.

- I'm Martin.
- Maria.

They're my children.

How much do you earn as a writer?

When things go well
you earn good money. But for now...

- Are you engaged?
- I am.

- Happily?
- Yes.

I've had my share of love.

But the Lord took him away from me.
Luckily he left me with them.

- You're already back, Maria?
- Yes.

- How did you like the city?
- I couldn't wait to get back home.

Hi.

Here it is.

It only needs some cleaning.

But you'd be able to do this.
Do you?

- How much does it cost a month?
- We'll talk about that later, Mr Writer.

You'll help around the house.

Let's go, children. Leave him alone.

- Thank you, Maria.
- You're welcome.

I've taken a room on the outskirts
to save money.

I've given myself completely to my work,
not without a strategy this time.

I read "Philosophy of Style" by Spencer.

I discovered a number of things
that weren't working

in what I've written up until now.

The first time that I tried to write
I had nothing to write about,

I had no thoughts,
I didn't even have the words.

But little by little,
as I improved my vocabulary,

I realized that my experiences

were something more
than just simple pictures.

I finally found out
how to interpret them.

So, I've finally started something good.

I ask you to give me two years
to prove my talent.

The day that I succeed, dear Elena,

I swear that you will be mine forever.

My love,

Allow you two years?

How can I deny that to my love?

However, I think that
the best thing for you, and for us,

would be for you to continue writing
and feed your desire

but at same time to look for a job
that allows you to earn a living.

Daddy would help you find one,
you know it.

Today he told us that,
after years of sacrifice,

Mr Gargiulo is going to open up
his own company. He just bought a house.

Think of what you could accomplish

with your intelligence
and your willpower.

But all of this only after giving
precedence over these things to me.

To your little, little Elena
who loves you so much.

So, tell me about your fiancée.

She's so beautiful.

Beauty, but no brains.

Don't you dare!

The wife of the grocer is vile.
But she still gives me credit.

That douche bag!

A genuine douche bag!

To the moneylenders.

If there weren't any moneylenders,
the world wouldn't move forward.

It would be worse if it weren't
for the hands that make the wealth.

Like yours, Maria.

I kill myself with work.
You do too, Martin.

But you don't earn a thing.
You ruin your eyes with those books.

How long did it take to sew them?

Two days.

How much do you earn for each?

5,000 lira.

They sell it for 20,000 lira.

Wouldn't you like to have your own shop?

No bosses, no masters.

I don't dream like you.
I look life straight in the face.

But you know beautiful things
when you see them.

Yes.

I don't know how to put it into words,

but I've seen beautiful things.

And what are they?

Stars.

Children.

A nice plate of pasta.

And certain women's things.

Here.
I've just fixed the lining.

We still need a tie.

- A tie?
- Yes.

Paolina!

Bring Martin's shoes.

Here you are.

- Holy...!
- Beauty is demanding.

Thank you.

My husband Totore
would have been happy to give it to you.

You look great!

Do you like it?

- What do you think, Paolina?
- You look so handsome.

Let's hope that these people
are capable of appreciating you.

How do I look?

Good.

Elena,
there's a surprise for you.

Just a moment.

- Come at once, please.
- Go.

Martin Eden!

Gaetano Gargiulo.

I've heard a lot about you, my lad.

If ever you need any advice,
come and see me.

I understand you. I was poor, too.

Here.

Call me.
Don't forget to.

Fuck off!

I want a picture with Martin.

- Jean! Leone...
- I want a picture with Martin.

Martin come here, we're taking a picture.

Arturo, please,

- go by Elena's side.
- Sure.

Squeeze.

Here you are.

I think that's good.

Smile, Elena.

A writer! That's ridiculous.
He's only just learned to read!

- It didn't turn out the way you thought.
- He's a megalomaniac!

Your stupid daughter
is chasing after him.

She's young. In time she'll understand.

Let's play!

A nice watch.

- Whose watch is this?
- Mine.

Alterio.

Do you want it back?
Will you do the forfeit that I give you?

- If it must be done, I shall do it.
- Good.

Now, Alterio, the fruit is under the hat.

Eat the fruit.

And now, Alterio,
put that fruit back under your hat.

How can I do this?

The hat's above and the fruits below.

Here's your watch.

- Whose pouch is this?
- It's mine.

Good, Martin.

Do you want it back?
Will you do the forfeit that I give you?

- If it must be done...
- ...I shall do it.

- Martin, you were once a sailor, right?
- Sure. I still am now.

- So you prefer water as an element?
- I prefer all the elements.

Fire as well?
Can you put up with it?

- Why?
- It's just a game.

No one can endure it for long.

What about you?

How long can you last?

Don't do it!

The time to recite a poem.

Who then devised the torment?
Love

Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove

We only live, only suspire,

Consumed by either fire or fire

Hey, young man.

Got a light?

Yes.

- Sir, you were at the Orsinis' party.
- Don't "sir" me, please.

Ah, right.

You are the one
who almost burnt his hand.

It was a perfect circus act.

They must be still laughing about you.

Yet...

- Those were nice verses.
- Really?

I wrote them.

For my lady.

And who's this lucky lady?

Miss Elena Orsini.

The young daughter of a good family

and you, a poor wretch!

And you? What were you doing in there?

Who knows?

I have to pass the time,

somehow!

Russ Brissenden.

Martin Eden.

Let's find a seat.

How do you get by in life?

I'm a writer.

I'm trying to write for magazines.

I hope you fail.

Today the magazines
publish only lousy writings.

Lousy but well-paid.

You're better than the magazines.

Well, thank you.
I can see that you've got money.

No, I don't need money.

- I only need oxygen.
- Briss!

- The Lord of Oblivion is asking for you.
- Not this evening.

I've just found a baby eagle

that wants to jump
in a nest full of owls.

He's in love.
And guess who his love interest is?

Let's flee together.

You and I.

This world is a prison.

Even a prison can be a house
if you have the key.

Love is the key.

A toast to love!

And to its servant, beauty.

Here are some real journalists.

Good morning.

Another massacre, Briss.

- Where?
- On the way to Rome.

Title:

"The Time of the Assassins."

"An automobile speeds through the night."

Carmelo knew he was in trouble
but he was not scared.

He was a photographer by trade.

They burnt his studio down.
He wasn't able to work.

These are the bodies
of the missing peasants.

My husband and the others
had done an investigation

and were going to take it
to a magistrate.

For this they got killed.

Since he stood up to the bosses
our life became hell.

They filed him as a subversive.

Have it printed now.

The print shop is closed.

Go find the printer!

This article must be printed tonight.
Go.

Watch over the pasta.

A low window,
A fence

A small, scented rose stands behind it

It's like a jail for the scented rose

The rose can't wait to break free

It's not a jail, though

But the girl who sometimes
looks out the window

She's too beautiful

These windows are dangerous

for beautiful girls, and roses as well

What a lovely film.

I didn't like it.

They always tell stories we already know.

I thought it was lovely.

What story
would you have preferred them to tell?

There are billions of stories to tell.

I smiled, I was moved.
It's a film that's full of hope.

Try looking at the world
in a different way!

When you write as well.

What I write is not good?

Your writings are too raw.

There's too much death,
too much pain.

The guy with a full belly
doesn't believe in hunger.

What?

You'd like me
simply to erase anything that's ugly

and give hope.

- Tell it to the wretched of the earth.
- To them you have to offer hope.

- Yeah, offer them drugs.
- What are you saying?

What's with you today?

Culture and emancipation
shall have nothing to do with each other!

Return to sender!

You're misjudging me, Martin.

You're insulting yourself
by thinking the nonsense you spout.

You're smart, you should understand...

Stop it!

You'll never make any money
from what you're writing.

We will never get married
and we will never be a family.

Why won't you look at me?
Look at me.

Look at me, Elena.

Who says, you?

Look at me.

Sir, are you interested?

- Beautiful lady...
- Don't touch her!

- Let me take a look at her.
- Don't touch.

Stop!

- Where are you going?
- Don't touch me, you dirty pimp!

Don't go, stay with us for a while.

- Martin, do you want a glass of wine?
- How are you, Mariano?

Look who I brought here, my fiancée.
She's beautiful, isn't she?

- Do you want some wine?
- I have to go.

- Come on.
- I have to go.

I see your point. Let's go.

No thanks, Mariano, I must be going.

I'm sorry, Mariano.

Why should I feel ashamed
of writing about this?

Let's leave, Martin.

Move.

Take me home.

Enough! Take me home.

Martin?

What's up?

Quiet.

RETURN TO SENDER

My husband and I
placed our trust in you, Mr Eden.

I know.
I'll pay my debts as soon as possible.

For now I only have this.

You need to respect your commitments.

You should know that.

You're an educated person.

If writing can't give you enough to live,

you better give up.

It's midnight

The moon looks so beautiful

Nobody knows

My intentions

The only ones who know

They need to look out

The only ones who know

Are those who love me

BAD LUCK

Thank you, ma'am.

Thank you all.

Put it over there.

Read, Paolina.

"Return to sender."

"Return to sender."

Here it says, "Martin Eden."

Open it.

Read it.

"Dear Mr Eden,

"We really liked your story
'The Apostate'.

"We would like to publish it

- "in our magazine."
- Which one?

"L'Eroica."

"You'll find a cheque for payment
in the envelope."

Let me see.

200,000 lira! My God!

What?

Read for yourself.

The road is clear, Maria!

The road is clear!

Good morning.

- Hi, kid.
- Here we are.

Here's a hundred and sixty.

A can of olive oil, please.

Try to tear love apart. Just try it.

You'll pay the consequences
as if you committed a crime,

especially if you deny the beauty of love

to a simple man,

a man whose sole property
is his own heart.

Martin!

Someone's here for you.

Martin!

Elena.

Elena, Maria.

We meet at last! What a beautiful lady.

- The kids.
- Nice to meet you.

Elena.

I'll go and make some coffee.
So they can be alone.

What's wrong?

I've argued with my mother.

But now I only want to be with you.

What happened?

Nothing serious.

She's worried about me.

She doesn't think
we can be happy together.

But we will be, won't we Martin?

We already are.

THE APOSTATE

It's a punch in the face.

A strike to the heart.

I'm amazed that they've published it.

They're throwing the dog a bone.

You mortify me.
I need to sell my stories to get by.

Earn a living in a different way.

Go to sea, stay among the people,
travel the world, Martin.

I can't.

I love Elena. I'm tied to her.

"I love Elena!"
You live in a fairytale, Martin:

"The Princess and the Sailor."

Find a woman who will look after you

and who accepts you for what you are.

- But if I write, I owe it to her.
- Shut up!

You don't write for that idiot.

Don't you dare!

- Don't you dare!
- Kill me.

"Out, out brief candle."

I would have been
eternally indebted to you.

I'm sorry.

I'm warning you, Martin.
Don't waste time.

How many people do you see
starve to death or go to jail

because they're nothing else
but wretches,

stupid and ignorant slaves?

Fight for them, Martin.
Fight for socialism.

You and I have nothing to do
with socialists!

Yet you insist
on spending time with them!

Socialism is inevitable.
The slaves have now become too many.

Anything is preferable
to those pigs that govern now.

Socialism will give a sense
to your writing, Martin.

It might be

the only thing that will save you

from the disappointment
that's approaching.

What disappointment?

Let us through!

Move away!

Comrades!

The position of the strike
will not soften.

It's decided.

But how long can we resist?

We should have stocked up on food

in order to have an advantage
over the bosses

who are now dispossessed
thanks to our strike.

But we are as dispossessed as they are.

It was a mistake.

Something to take on board
for future struggles.

This is what I wanted to say.

Come on, take the floor.

Tell them why you don't want socialism.

But all hell will break loose.

It will do them good.

They need to discuss things,
and so do you.

Good evening.

My name is Martin Eden

and I've accepted to speak
in order to ask you all a question:

why did you chase those men out just now?

Because they're lackeys.

Lackeys, right.

But I can only see slaves in here.

What are you saying?
How dare you? You're the slave.

Man has always had a master.

And this master
is either nature or another man.

That's what I see
all around me: slaves.

Slaves for hundreds
and thousands of years.

Children of slaves, grandchildren
of slaves, descendants of slaves

who have never worked without a master.
Can you deny it?

It's the law of evolution:

healthier, stronger individuals,
better organized

and possessing power and slaves,
control the weaker ones.

Come on, we know this old story.

Sure, you know it.

The old law of human evolution
is the same as ever.

You dream of a society
in which this law is abolished

and where individuals
are emancipated by the State.

But how is it possible

to abolish a natural law
with a moral law?

The aims are right:
social justice, freedom.

But to whom are they applied?
To society in general.

And individuals?

What role do they have
in your new society?

You can't pay attention
only to the collective.

So what?

So, as soon as a society of slaves
starts to organize itself,

without any respect
for the individuals that compose it,

so its decline begins.

The strongest among them
will be their new masters.

But this time they'll do it in secret

through cunning scheming,
flattery, coaxing and lies

and worse than what your bosses
do to you today.

No society that ignores
the law of the evolution can last.

Or have you discovered
another law of human evolution?

Shut up!

Go home!

Go home!

Calm down!

It's not true that we socialists
ignore the law of evolution.

We refute
such filthy degeneration of the law

as individualism,

our main enemy.

FROM BRISS, WITH BROTHERLY LOVE

Morning.

Morning.

You can't enter.

- Why?
- Get out.

- But I'll pay you.
- It's not that.

We don't serve socialists.

Hey, that newspaper comes at a price!

Here.

Unbelievable!

Here.

Giosuè.

Martin Eden! Here you are.
Can I interview you?

- Sure.
- Really?

Come here.

Come on Martin, give him a lesson.

This is the answer
to your first question.

You're not going anywhere.

This is a difficult question.

This is because the grocer
won't give me credit anymore.

What? My answer is too honest?

Leave me alone!

Go Giosuè, go.

- I'll get you arrested.
- What?

I'll get you arrested!

Briss, what's the matter?

- What?
- I'm sick.

Take me home.

Miss Elena, Mr Eden is here.

Thank you, Carmela.

Elena.

Oh Martin... Why?

Elena...

- Let me explain.
- No, let me do the explaining.

If this is your true ambition
I have no intention of following you.

This wasn't our agreement.

Forgive me, Martin.

I want to introduce you
to Judge Mattei, an old friend.

Martin Eden.

- Nice to meet you.
- My pleasure.

Good evening, Elena.

Good evening. I'm coming.

We managed to find some vegetables
only paying triple the price.

The strike has blocked all transport.

Damned strike.

Is it right to starve people?

Carmela,
is it the same where you live?

It's the same, Mr Orsini.

I had to give powdered milk
to my grandchildren.

Yes, Mr Eden, now I remember.

I read your name in the newspaper.

Many people must have read it.
That newspaper sells a lot.

As long as you don't end up
in a courtroom.

You wouldn't be the first socialist.

I'd never declare myself a socialist.
I'm not one.

Good!

The patient is already
on his way to recovery.

Time is the best medicine
for these maladies of youth.

I see that you are scrupulous doctors,

but also listen to the patient.

You suffer from the illness
that you diagnose in me.

Reversing positions
is a tactic of a great lawyer.

- You're a liberal, or am I wrong?
- You're not wrong.

My family has been liberal
for generations.

And Mr Orsini
says the same about himself.

You are convinced that the best
economic system is the free market

and you see yourselves as supporters
of meritocracy and competition.

Yet you are in favor of laws
that weaken their vitality.

You have regulated commerce,

you have placed limits on mergers
between industrial groups.

You have allowed the state
to support and financially favor...

- national industry.
- You see,

I don't know
where you studied political economy.

I guess in a ship's cargo hold.

But these are laws against monopolies,

necessary to increase employment.

Are you against this?
I can't imagine why.

- If you are not, I can't see your point.
- It's not about me.

My point is that it is not me but you
who are suffering from socialism.

It's you who pass socialist measures;
socialism is in your ideas, not in mine.

I haven't been infected.

I'm against socialism

and against the farce of democracy
that you claim to represent.

Don't exaggerate.

You promote traders and shopkeepers

only interested
in getting rich like pigs.

And you call these people liberals.

But liberalism
doesn't exist in your world.

It has never existed.
It's a mistake.

Because the world belongs
to the true individuals,

to the aristocrats,
to the great blond beasts

who never stop,
who don't accept compromises

who will devour
you socialists-afraid-of-socialism,

you, who consider yourself
individualists.

I know that you don't understand anything
and I won't disturb you any longer.

But remember one thing.

There are probably
five or six true individualists in town,

but one of them is Martin Eden.

It's those books by Spencer.

He has a strange effect
on the youngest ones.

There's no God but the Unknown.

And Herbert Spencer is his prophet.

You're unable to discuss Spencer with me.

- You disgust me!
- Enough!

You're unbearable!

I'm here because of you.

Only you.

Only you!

Excuse me.

Don't tire him out, please.

Of course.

Briss.

What's going on?

How do you feel?

So-so.

But I haven't had
my hands in my pockets.

I wrote a poem.

Prose is not my thing.

"Ephemera."

I took it from one of your verses.

"Man, last of the ephemera."

It's plagiarism.

No, it's an honor.

Read it.

But don't show it to anybody.

I promise.

A Bible.

- Hello?
- Elena!

I need to see you. I'm sorry.

I've got nothing to say to you.

- Darling...
- I have to go.

Elena!

Martin, Miss Elena isn't here.

They've all gone out.
There's no one at home.

No one?

Not even Arturo?

Elena!

Don't shout, young man.

Let me in, Carmela.

Miss Elena is not for you.

Aren't you going to ask me to dance?

- What are you doing?
- I'll explain everything.

Explain what?
Why are you dancing with him?

Give up, mate. He's too strong for you.

EPHEMERA BY RUSS BRISSENDEN

Martin!

This came in for you.

"Dear Mr Eden,

"We are interested in your writings.

"Please contact us urgently.
It's very important.

"Best regards."

It's good news, isn't it?

You can't enter!

There's a Bible with a hole in it.

The gun was in there.

It looks like a suicide,
but we must wait for...

Did you know him?

My God!

You need more courage to live.
Look at that.

Now I have to clean it all up.

And it's not a nice job.

- He was an odd type.
- True.

He spoke to himself, he got drunk.
He didn't look after himself.

I'll pay you! Stop the duel.

Easy!

Easy.

Martin's spleen is going to give me
a heart attack.

Fit as a fiddle.

You're going to give me
a heart attack, Martin.

What a moron!

Come on.

What are we waiting for? Come on!

Move!

Hello.

Hello?

Hello?

Alright.

"Philosophy was born
because the Ancient Greeks

"were able to avoid physical labor

"thanks to their slaves

"who allowed them to devote themselves
exclusively to thought."

Full stop.

"Russian literature...

"Great Russian literature
from the XVIII century

"came to life thanks
to a group of young aristocrats

"who loved the people

"and were raised with milk
coming from enslaved wet nurses."

Full stop.

"So we ask our government

"that a percentage of the income

"coming from culture and knowledge

"be destined to slaves and servants

"whose work allowed

"said culture and knowledge to develop."

Full stop.

Signed: Martin Eden.

Good morning, Martin.

Holy cow!

You look like Oblomov.

He was born a parasite.

Come on.

Here.

Little gifts for everyone!

Coffee?

I'll leave this here.

What do you want?

As a publisher or as a friend?

For me it's the same.

Well, there are just a few days left

before your trip to the US.

Your American publisher has organized
a tour of some of nature's marvels:

- The Grand Canyon, Yellowstone...
- Renato!

The curtains have closed.

You can't go on like this!

Son, you mustn't let yourself go.

Take me, for instance.

I'm older than you.
Think about it.

I went through bad times, you know.

I had to eat shit.

Yet I'm still here.

Because I decided
to take life by the hands.

"Look at the grit of those who made it,

"those who gained success
in any business.

"Not even a trace of pity in them.

"He has the makings of an enemy."

An enemy?

Stop acting like a dick, Martin!

If it wasn't for me,

that fucking buffoon would have
sliced you up, and the Captain, too.

Sliced up? No way. It was just an act.

If you don't want to respect me,
at least respect your contracts.

Dear me!

Let's respect the contracts,

the only literature
that capitalists admire.

Go fuck yourself!

Don't talk shit to me, Martin.

Renato,

let's send a lookalike to America.

- What?
- A lookalike.

You're dreadful.

I'll go.

I'll go to the US. I will.

- Are you serious?
- Sure!

Because I'm vain.

I want to show them
how much I despise them.

Stop giving money away.

Enjoy your money instead.

Hi, Martin.

- A good place to talk.
- Are you in a hurry?

Yeah. It's very important.

We're against the war:
it will bring this country to its knees.

It will only be in the interests
of the bosses.

Is this enough?

I'm only doing this because
Brissenden would have done the same.

It's for the revolution.

I've read your books.

Not bad.

But you could have been nastier.

Thank you.

- What's wrong?
- I'm just tired.

May I have your attention?
Quiet please.

Here among us
is the great writer Martin Eden,

author of books that my friends and I
have read with the pleasure

of reading about life.

Mind you:
Mr Eden does not share your ideas.

Drop it!

Let him speak for himself.

Speak to whom?
There's no one around here.

- The place is empty.
- Shut up.

We will start and win a war

to assert human dignity.

Writers won't help us winning it,
Mr Eden,

people like him will.

The people.

People are with us.

To the people.

To the people!

This is so beautiful.

Listen, Maria.

I don't want you to feel indebted to me.

Do you understand?

You've done so much for us.

Look at Tonino.

He's reading.

He only wants books.

Just like you.

Martin, I fear for you.

You're not happy.

I can see it in your eyes.

You have bought us this apartment.

Stay with us.

Like you used to.

Rebecca, they're speaking a foreign language.
You're supposed to answer these calls!

Do I have to do everything around here?

What's he saying?

Hello?
I don't understand. Speak Italian!

Please, I speak only Italian!

Listen...

I don't understand.
You've pissed me off!

Mr Eden, time to go
to the press conference.

Get ready.

How is he?

He slept through the whole day.

He feels better now.

Good.

IS HE RUSS BRISSENDEN?

Show some modesty, lady!

My love!

I bought you some shirts.

Spend money on yourself!
How many times do I have to tell you?

Martin, I do what I feel.

You're tearing me apart.

Margherita, you're a pain.

Your love is painful.

Mr Eden.

The car is waiting for you.

Just a moment.

You could make any man happy,
Margherita.

Don't be flattered.

I can look after myself.

Go.

Go!

THE DIGNITY OF USURY

SEA FARMERS

Silence, please.

Good morning.

Now it's your moment.

How are you, Mr Eden?

Quite bad, thank you.

It took them some time to convince me
to come here. I didn't want to.

I'm fed up with speaking in public.

That's it.

I'm being serious: when I die

you'll read my poems
with tears of emotion.

In the meantime, while I'm alive

they say a load of nonsense about me:

they say that I'm Russ Brissenden,

or that I go around naked
wearing a placard with the words

"Down with decency."

But I'm Martin Eden.

I wrote things that no one liked before
but which are now all the rage.

They're the same things,
I can assure you.

The work was already done before.

The same people who didn't want them
are today interested in me.

Read us something you wrote.

With pleasure.

"Law has its defects.

"The poor have the right to own a dog.

"They could keep rats, instead:

"they'll do fine and they are tax free.

"They live in pokey rooms
with their costly bastards.

"Why don't they play with flies?
Are they not pets?

"And you have to pay the council.

"We need to end this,
or they'll end up buying whales.

"A decision must be taken:

"destroy the dogs!
Isn't that a good idea?

"The next measure: destroy the poor.

"So the council will save more."

So, who wants to speak now?

Mister Eden.

Oh my. A note.

"Is it true that compared to Campana
you are loathsome?"

Why?

I don't compete with other poets.
We already have very few poets.

Russ Brissenden was a great poet.

So you consider yourself a great poet.

The author of "Ephemera"
is Russ Brissenden.

Your latest essays are incomprehensible.

I assure you that all my essays
are understandable like my novels.

I can't understand
"The Cloud and the Sun".

I'm sorry, I must have botched it.

I want to reveal something to you:

the writer Martin Eden doesn't exist.

He is only a product of your imagination.

He's actually
only a hoodlum and a sailor.

I'm not a legend.

Stop trying, you can't screw me.

You will never screw me!

Here comes Martin Eden!

- Mr Eden!
- Make way.

Mr Eden, how long were you a sailor?

Since I was eleven.

- Have you ever mutinied?
- Yes, but don't tell anyone.

Is it true that you published "Ephemera"
under the name of a dead friend of yours?

Shall I smash a bottle on your head?

Make way!

Shall I?

You all saw what he did!

Put the ladder inside.

I don't want it here.
Come on, put it inside!

Take the other boxes. What the fuck!

Go take the boxes.

The dear Martin Eden!

How are you?
I was thinking about you right now.

- Where's Giulia?
- She's inside. Listen!

Giulia and I think that you should come
to the opening. What a publicity stunt!

The great Martin Eden
and Bernardo Fiore.

- We both made it on our own.
- I'll come.

I'll call her. Giulia!

Martin is here.

It's going to go well.

Your husband has a knack for business.

If our parents could see us now...

I'm going to America, Giulia.

It's a long trip to the US.

Really? I'm so happy for you.

But Bernardo must respect the agreement:
you must never work again.

I'm an Eden too, right?

The best one.

- And you were the best at dancing.
- Stop it! I love you.

When you're in America,
you go out to dance, Martin Eden.

Martin!

This is Agnese.

- Nice to meet you.
- My pleasure.

She has agreed.

We will get married.

That's great news.

Congratulations.

Excuse us for a moment.

Listen, Nino.

- What's up?
- Ask Margherita to pack her bags.

She's coming with me.

That's great news!

- Go.
- Right away.

- My best wishes.
- Thank you.

Let's go.

Martin!

I'll be back in a minute.

Go.

Will you be there when I come back?

Go! Congratulations.

Elena!

Mother wanted me to marry judge Mattei.

What?

Do you remember judge Mattei?

Yes.

That useless man!

Yes!

And now she'd like you to marry me?

I've always loved you.

If no one had noticed my books,
you would have stayed away from me.

So far away.

- It's not true!
- It is.

Yeah.

It was these fucking books.

Don't speak like that.

What did I say?

"Fucking."

Swear words!

You're bothered
by the swear words, as always.

Are you?

Forget it.

It's too late, Elena.

It's not too late, Martin!

I'm sorry, I'm leaving.

Where are you going?

Far away.

I'll disown everything,
my father and my mother.

I'll come to stay with you straight away.

I betrayed your love,
but now I want to live it.

What?

I don't understand.

Life disgusts me, Elena.

Life disgusts me.

I've lived it so intensely

that I don't feel desire
for anything else.

If I could still desire something,
I'd want you.

But now I'm certain that I cannot.

You never trusted me.

You were ashamed of us.

Look.

I wish I was like your kind,

spoke like your kind,
thought like your kind.

A dog by your side!

A nice dog you can walk around!

Destroy the dogs!

You have some nerve showing up here!

Go away!

Out!

Out!

Go away!

War!

War!

The war has started!

War!

War!

The war has started!

Sir?

Are you OK?

The war has started.

NO TO THE MASSACRE OF THE PEOPLE
WE DON'T WANT WAR