Original subtitles

You know the parable, Father, of the lost sheep?

Of course you know it.

Well, at a certain point I wondered:

what if the ones who went astray were the other 99 sheep,

and I was the only one who took the right path?

The 1982 World Cup.

Italy versus Brazil, the match of all matches.

Only one result would take us through to the semi-finals:

a win.

Brazil only needed a draw.

Everything is ready. Italy-Brazil is under way.

And the match started well.

After five minutes, Paolo Rossi put Italy ahead.

We were in the semi-finals.

- Goal! - That joy, Father,

lasted about seven minutes,

because in the 12th minute, Sócrates equalised for Brazil.

But the sadness didn't last long either.

In the 25th minute, Paolo Rossi made it 2-1.

- Yes! - We were back in the semi-finals.

This time, the joy lasted until the 68th minute

of the second half,

when Falcão scored the equaliser.

All seemed lost, and in that moment of despair

I realised we needed a 12th man on the pitch.

- Our Father... - Someone up there heard me.

In the 74th minute, Paolo Rossi did indeed score a third.

- Yes! - The Brazilians launched their assault:

the 17 longest minutes of my life.

With two minutes left, Oscar headed the ball

low towards the left-hand corner of Italy's goal.

The great Dino Zoff managed to parry it,

but the ball spun dangerously towards the goal.

And then came a miracle.

Dino Zoff stretched out his arm and stopped it on the line.

- Dino, you legend! Yes! - The match is over!

It's over! Italy are through!

I was certain God had heard me,

and that my prayers had taken us through to the semi-finals.

But that, Father, is when I first questioned my faith.

I'd prayed fervently for Italy to win.

And we did win.

But at that very moment, on the other side of the world,

there must surely have been a Brazilian boy

praying exactly as I was.

So I wondered:

"Why did his prayers fail while mine worked?"

What if this whole business about God existing...

...is complete bullshit?

No offence, Your Holiness.

♪ No longer do I feel in my heart ♪

♪ Youth shining bright ♪

♪ Cause of my torment ♪

♪ Love, you are to blame ♪

♪ You pinch me, you tease me ♪

♪ You prick me, you devour me ♪

♪ What is this, alas? ♪

♪ Have mercy, mercy, mercy ♪

♪ Love is something... ♪

♪ That drives me to despair ♪

Once grown up, I set aside my doubts about faith,

and, like a good lost sheep,

followed the one earthly road to paradise: pastries.

Because in Sicily, Holy Father, when a sheep isn't lost,

it makes heavenly ricotta.

No offence.

Dear friends, today we discuss the king of Sicilian pastries:

the cannolo.

Legend has it that it was created

by nuns in a Caltanissetta convent. Is that true? I don't know.

But what you're looking at is certainly something divine.

It is, in fact, the cannolo from the legendary Guarneri bakery.

You can't go wrong.

The shell is crisp but not greasy.

The ricotta is sweet but not too sweet.

Dark chocolate chips, scattered in just the right amount.

And note this rarity: the whole cannolo is filled to order.

Ten out of ten.

Fine, sugar may not grant eternal life,

but we each choose our own cross.

I don't know if that made me happy.

It certainly made me content.

Of course, like all passions, it demanded sacrifices.

That sweetness took some bitterness out of my romantic solitude.

Women can tolerate many of our weaknesses,

but when it comes to desire, they refuse to come second.

And pastries, I confess,

gave me more pleasure than sex.

Still no offence, Your Holiness.

None taken.

Perhaps that's also why the finest pastries

were created by nuns:

to ward off temptation and demonstrate God's greatness.

A cannolo, a cassata,

can be more persuasive than many a long homily,

because many priests have a habit of talking too much.

Those who talk too much...

Arturo is obsessed. He winds himself up every time.

Tommaso, a choux shouldn't have sugar chunks on top,

because the ricotta is already sweet.

I might understand a choux filled with custard,

though I condemn that too, because it's blasphemy.

"Too soft, too hard, too bitter, too much sugar."

I don't understand people who use too little sugar.

Frutta martorana is born sweet and must die sweet,

- otherwise it becomes something else. - Yes, yes.

See?

Arturo has really busted our balls with all this pastry business.

I'm right here. I can hear you.

Arturo, we're only joking. We love you.

But you've crushed our nougats.

- Big match? - Come on, yes!

In truth, my friends only put up with me

because I was the only one willing to play in goal at five-a-side.

Tommaso, who organised our matches,

was also my long-time boss, founder of Trinacria Real Estate,

whose rule was...

A real estate agent mentions only a home's good points.

With us, people will live only... the dream.

So, annoying neighbours...

just enough. Strata fees... just enough.

Mould stains, smelly drains... just enough, because...

Problems come later!

Discretion is the key to everything.

So an ordinary studio becomes...

A marvellous New York-style loft.

If extensive renovation is required?

Ready to personalise.

And if it's beyond an industrial-grade disaster?

For connoisseurs.

- Yes!

See you at the notary's. All right. Have a good day.

Third sale this month, ladies and gentlemen!

Well done, Arturo! So pastries aren't your only talent.

- Bye, bye, bye. - Bye!

Sorry, Lucia, when is my next appointment?

At five.

Remember, they're Tommaso's friends. It matters to him.

All right. There's still some time.

All right. Bye.

In short, my job wasn't the greatest,

but it left me plenty of time to cultivate my passion.

Dear friends, today we discuss the Savoia cake.

Despite its name, no one in Piedmont knows it.

This slice comes from the Rapisarda bakery.

Good, but not excellent.

The sponge is a little dry. It doesn't pair with chocolate and hazelnut.

They used to make it better.

The Evangelists said it too,

though I can't remember which one.

"Give me neither poverty nor riches, but only the food I need."

You don't recall the Evangelist because it's from Proverbs.

Holy Father, I hate to contradict you, but that isn't a proverb.

It's a sacred text.

Arturo, Proverbs is a book of the Bible.

Oh.

What about "mackerel skies, rain by and by"? Who wrote that?

Anyway, Holy Father, as the other proverb says,

some storms have no need of rain.

The custard must go in before baking, not afterwards.

The custard and the cornetto must form a harmonious marriage.

This... is a cornetto in crisis.

They're separating. Look.

They're headed for divorce. Look here.

This won't do, though...

You know, you're absolutely right.

A happy, lasting marriage

needs a solid bond from the very beginning.

The custard must go into the cornetto before it goes in the oven.

They have to bake together,

slowly get to know each other and grow intimate,

then meld together, never to part again.

Thank you!

Your Holiness, it was love at first sight.

It seemed even the barista had noticed

- this romantic current...

...and was urging me to follow her.

Can you hear me?

- What? - You need a receipt.

You can't stand there like a reed.

The till is over there.

- A receipt? - Go and pay at the till!

Oh, yes. I have to pay for the cornetto.

Yes, sorry. Sorry.

I thought I'd lost her for ever, Your Holiness.

But instead, dear lost sheep, as the Gospel says:

"Prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight."

- The Gospel of Mark. - No, Luke.

Luke, right. Luke, Luke.

What a writer, Luke. Good old Luke.

Go on.

Are you Arturo?

I'm here for the appointment.

Nice to meet you. Flora Guarneri.

Guarneri, as in the famous Guarneri bakery?

Yes, I'm the daughter of the famous Guarneri bakery.

And this one?

Yes.

After you.

Are you planning to open a branch?

No, I've decided to open my own place.

My father and I now have different ideas about pastries.

What? You make Palermo's best pastries.

Yes, but after 70 years, perhaps it's time for something new.

Know what my mentor used to say when I worked in Paris?

Tradition isn't about preserving the ashes,

but keeping the flame alive.

Take, for example, the cassata as we know it today.

- Is it 100, 150 years old? - More or less.

Yet the Arabs made it differently.

So tradition is innovation that succeeded.

You don't agree.

Then this isn't the right place for you.

Go ahead.

Imagine: in this old pastry shop,

generations of Palermitans have eaten...

...choux, patate,

Savoia cake, cannoli and cassate.

Just as we've always known them: unchanged, yet always surprising.

Now it's your turn to surprise us.

But as you well know, nothing in Palermo is ever renewed.

We Palermitans are wary. We need reassurance.

So give them a setting that feels historic and old,

then win them over with your pastries.

Bloody hell, Arturo.

Never in the history of Trinacria Real Estate

has anyone secured a lease in exactly 47 minutes,

including the drive and signing the paperwork!

It happens sometimes. Sometimes.

I get it, but we've been friends forever.

She's a real ball-buster, and I've never seen her so happy.

If you kept goal as well as you sell property,

- we'd win the league! - Come on!

Lucia, if we can bring forward...

Your Holiness, after meeting her, everything was different.

Pastries no longer thrilled me the same way.

I tried a St Joseph's sfincia, then moved on to choux,

patata and Maria Stuarda. Nothing.

My earthly paradise had vanished.

You were sad because you feared you'd never see her again.

How did you know?

I was engaged once too.

- You? - Arturo, no one is born Pope!

Right, of course.

Love is a miracle from God. It gives us new eyes.

There's a line that reminds me of what you experienced with Flora.

"And in you, I see life intensely,

the unexpected, that which suddenly shakes us."

St Augustine is always St Augustine.

It wasn't St Augustine.

It was Paz.

Oh, the cartoonist. He's good.

Paz. Good old Paz.

No, Octavio Paz, the Mexican poet.

All right...

- ...more or less. - Now you know who he is.

But had Flora shown any interest,

or was it all in your head?

Your Holiness, you know, women are impossible to read.

I showed up there every day for two weeks.

Oh!

Move the scaffold over there, then we'll touch this up.

Arturo.

Hi, Flora.

What are you doing here?

Nothing. I found another set of keys.

They may come in handy. You can give them to the builders.

Oh, thanks. Yes, they may be useful.

- How's it going? - Why is the scaffold still here?

Come on, lads, hurry up. Let's get moving.

Go on.

Every day, I made up a different excuse.

- Hi, Flora. - Hi, Arturo.

- Let me help you. - Thank you.

What's happened?

I found an old gas bill.

I thought it might help you estimate the usage.

Give you some idea.

Yes, it may be useful.

How's it coming along?

It looks good to me.

Hi, Flora.

They told me the bloke on the third floor,

the one always at his window— don't turn around, he's watching us—

sometimes steals your electricity. Don't turn around.

What would you call the pastry shop?

"Flora's Pastry Shop"?

"Flora's Pastries"?

"Flora's Pastry Shop..."

"Sweet Tomorrow"?

"Sweet Tomorrow."

How poetic.

In truth, you were imagining your tomorrow with Flora.

Nothing gets past you. They don't make just anyone Pope.

Arturo, you needn't be Pope to understand that.

Flora?

This bloody door keeps scraping underneath.

You should call a carpenter at once.

I know one who'll fix it in an hour.

It must be done—the door matters. Are you joking?

Do you treat all your clients this way?

Of course. A real estate agent's duty

is to look after the client right to the end.

It's truly a duty...

So you do all this purely out of professional ethics?

- Exactly. - Mm-hm.

Come. I want you to try something.

I left the outside exactly the same.

I tried to work only on the filling.

- Tell me if you like it. - Yes.

Mmm!

This is how I want to die: in a blood-sugar spike.

- What did you put inside?

A custard made with late-season Ciaculli mandarins.

Interesting.

What other pastries are you planning to make?

I'd begin with the classics, left as they are.

Right, because first you reassure the customer...

- Yes. - ...then comes innovation.

- Good, you learnt the lesson. - Exactly!

I'd start with cannoli.

- Choux. - Yes.

St Joseph's sfincia.

St Joseph's sfincia, of course.

Erm, cassatine.

Watermelon gelo.

Frutta martorana.

Yes.

Patata.

Patata...

And this?

Buccellatini with organic Ribera orange marmalade.

Mmm... and the chopped pistachios?

From Bronte. Needless to say.

- Iris? - Iris with baked ricotta

- and a streak of cocoa. - Cocoa?

Savoia cake with dark chocolate.

- Sixty per cent? - Mm-hm.

- Sixty-five. - Sixty-five...

That's how it is.

Do you know why I immediately said yes to this place?

Because I'm a professional,

and I understood at once what you needed.

Yes, that too.

But the reason I said yes at once

was that picture there.

St Augustine is always St Augustine.

No, that's St Honoré.

The patron saint of pastry chefs.

Exactly.

I can't do this.

I don't know. It felt like a sign from above.

Your Holiness, at first I thought it was just something she said...

Found it!

Found it! Thank goodness.

- What a fright. - Where was it?

I must thank the Lord.

See? Prayer always works.

No, I didn't even have to pray.

Sir!

Sir!

This is yours.

You left it on the counter this morning.

So that's where it ended up.

The Lord helps us and never asks for anything in return.

Well, I mean...

What?

You're not giving me anything?

A new one would have cost you at least a thousand euros.

Er...

Fair enough.

Thank you.

- Thank you. - The Lord is always with me.

At work,

when we kiss.

At church.

The gentleman?

I used to be skinnier, but now I've grown a belly.

Oh, but the Lord...

The Lord!

- Sorry, that's right. - Of course!

Without God, you won't get very far.

Your Holiness, I could have answered many ways.

I could tell the truth, a half-truth, a quarter-truth.

- Instead... - Of course.

Where would we be without God?

I lied so as not to disappoint her.

Therein lies my original sin.

Everything helps us reach God.

Etiam peccata—even sin.

If we must tell lies, let them at least be useful sometimes!

I recognised that one this time.

Paz is always Paz.

No, Arturo. This time it was St Augustine.

For...

- The pasta's here. - Oh, thank you.

I'm starving! Thank you.

Your Holiness, I built our relationship on that lie.

Were it not for religion...

- Next! - We were two perfect halves.

Flora even let me choose the staff.

I see you've also worked in a rosticceria.

Do you like arancini?

Yes. Yes, I like them very much.

Good.

So you like arancini.

Thank you for coming.

No, excuse me. Since I have another offer,

- I was wondering... - Take the other offer.

Why didn't you hire him?

Mine was a trick question.

If he doesn't correct me, I can't hire him.

What was he supposed to correct?

You don't say "arancini"; you say "arancine".

"Arancina" in the singular.

Some parts of Sicily say "arancino", but they're wrong.

You see, Your Holiness, they're balls of rice,

filled with ragù, or ham and cheese, then fried on the outside.

Supplì?

Supplì.

Your Holiness, please don't joke.

On theology, you're always right, of course.

But on Sicilian food, I'd advise greater caution.

Because worse than calling an arancina "arancino"

is calling it "supplì".

Supplì are good, but they're something else.

An arancina comes with meat, or with ham and cheese,

commonly called "with butter".

- With meat or with butter. - Exactly.

In true Palermitan, it's "a canne o a burro".

A canne o a burro.

Well done, Your Holiness.

Savoia.

Correct.

Mm.

- Patata. - Correct.

Iris.

Fried or baked?

Mmm...

- Baked. - Correct.

Easy. Choux?

Yes, it's easy.

It's cold!

- What is it? - Cassatina.

My turn now?

No. First I want to admire the masterpiece.

In short, all was going well.

The trouble was, Sunday would arrive.

I hadn't set foot in a church for 40 years.

By then, I'd forgotten everything about Christianity,

and how Mass worked. I was completely unprepared.

So, to avoid being found out,

I had to devise a survival strategy.

Rule number one:

attend only peak-hour Mass, either noon or six,

so my ignorance was disguised amid the congregation's responses.

Almighty Father...

Maker of heaven and earth,

of all things visible and invisible.

- I believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ. - Invisible... Lord...

- The only-begotten Son of God... - Christ... Son...

- Born of the Father... - Father...

- ...before all ages. - Ages...

Rule number two: if the church is empty,

feign an urgent, essential need for private prayer.

I believe in one God, the Father almighty.

Visible and invisible...

I've found a pastry you don't know.

- You don't know it. - I doubt that. Seems unlikely.

Here you go. Thank you.

This pastry isn't Sicilian. It's from Campania,

but it's a distant relative of cassata.

It's called "raffiuolo".

"Raffiuolo."

"Raffiuolo."

- What is it? - Nothing. I was thinking: you love pastries,

you're kind, and you're a believer too...

What's the catch?

Actually, there's something I still haven't told you.

Rule number three:

always lie, and never give in to guilt,

which is rather the core business of Catholicism.

Five-a-side football.

I have to play at least once a week,

or my friends get upset.

Okay.

Nothing serious.

- Want to try the raffiuolo? - Mm!

Let's have raffiuolo. The raffiuolo is very good.

Look how satisfying this is.

Dito d'apostolo—I go mad for it.

But tell me the truth, Arturo:

did you fall in love with Flora, or with the pastry shop?

Idiot. You always have to talk rubbish.

That ball hit you far too hard.

- But I scored with it! - Some goal that was.

You still remember it!

- Who wants coffee? - Everyone.

Except Arturo, who has a child's tastes.

Darling.

Mum, I have to do my catechism homework.

All right, Jacopo. I'll have my coffee, then help you.

Beatrice, Arturo can help him. He doesn't drink coffee.

What?

Help Jacopo with his catechism homework.

Jacopo, Arturo will help you. Go on.

Of course. I'll do it.

Come on, little Jacopo.

Let's do your catechism homework.

- Show us afterwards, all right? - Yes, yes.

So, what are the exercises about?

The Eighth Commandment.

The Eighth Commandment.

All right.

The Eighth Commandment. There's nothing about the eighth.

They're all here except...

All right.

Never mind.

The Eighth Commandment!

First, let's place it geographically.

The Eighth Commandment comes...

...after the seventh and before the ninth.

Eighth.

Now, the fact that it's eighth

and isn't on the Commandments podium

mustn't make us think it's any less important.

Pay attention!

It's by going deeper,

by following through to the tenth, that you recognise a true Christian.

But what do we mean when we speak of the Eighth Commandment?

Let's ask ourselves.

Thou shalt not kill?

That's the Fifth Commandment.

Exactly. That's what I'm saying: the Fifth Commandment.

It's easy to obey. Don't kill—who kills anyone?

Some do, yes, but in everyday life it's much harder to...

- Not tell lies. - Yes, not bear false witness!

You got there. Well done. Do not bear false witness.

Rule number four: kick the ball into the stands.

But what does "do not bear false witness" mean?

For example, we tell Mum we're going to study catechism in the park,

but instead, we go and get a lovely gelato brioche.

With cream.

Of course, with cream.

Otherwise we'd violate the Eleventh Commandment:

"Honour thy gelato brioche."

But you keep quiet.

It's false witness. This is just a drill.

The secret of a good brioche lies in its colour.

The inside should tend towards yellow, not white,

and above all, it must be glossy and have a tuppo,

like this one from the Vullo bakery.

The incredible thing, Your Holiness,

is that Flora suspected nothing.

Our relationship grew day by day.

We even moved in together.

With her father's blessing, Your Holiness.

But lads, there's a cherry missing here!

Flora, you know, I like this Arturo very much.

Dad, do you like him because he loves me, or because he loves pastries?

As someone once said,

anyone who loves pastries is surely a good person.

Arturo!

Bloody hell!

Flora's father has never let one of her boyfriends

- join the association. - Oh, come on.

The more I look at you, the more I wonder how it's possible.

With that pinnulone face!

Nice!

"Pinnulone"? What does that mean?

Well...

"Pinnulone" is a word Palermitans use to describe

someone shrewd, brilliant and intelligent.

"Pinnulone"?

- No, Your Holiness. It means a fool. - What?

A dickhead.

A simpleton.

Ah, a boludo!

A boludo, I imagine.

Dear friends, in welcoming you, I officially open our work

to organise the Holy Easter celebrations,

one of the two key events

for our Christian Charity association,

which I have the honour of chairing.

Before discussing our trip to Rome

for the Pope's Urbi et Orbi blessing,

we must also address the Stations of the Cross.

As tradition dictates, Dr Guarnotta will play Pontius Pilate.

Saint Veronica will be played by...

the ever-active Professor Limandri.

- Good, well done. Congratulations. - Congratulations.

And the role of the penitent thief

will, I believe, be played masterfully

by the Honourable Felice Patta.

Don't take offence, Honourable Member. We're only joking.

Besides, I said "penitent thief", not "impenitent thief"!

- Hear that?

He always wants to play Jesus.

Notary Macaluso.

And now we come to the delicate question

of who will play our Lord.

What do you mean, "delicate"?

I don't see the problem.

I've been a perfect Jesus for 50 years,

and no one has ever complained. Quite the opposite.

And may I remind you that even the municipality of Castracane Bassa

asked me to do them the honour of playing him in their summer Passion!

- Summer? - Summer, summer!

- In costume. - Just to have me,

they even organise one in summer!

Notary Macaluso, forgive me. No one here doubts your Jesus.

It's just that someone pointed out that your...

Your knee is in very poor shape!

And the Stations of the Cross is long.

This painful knee

helps me better portray our Lord's suffering.

Besides, I don't understand!

Pontius Pilate is 70,

Saint Veronica looks about 80,

and I can't play Jesus Christ? What kind of reasoning is that?

- And my mother cares about it. - Goodness!

- His mother?

How old is she?

Ladies and gentlemen, please.

Let's all calm down. We'll do this:

Notary Macaluso will play Jesus.

- Mm! - In the unfortunate event

that his knee should give out...

It won't. It won't!

It won't, but if it does, a reserve Jesus will replace him.

- All right? - Why don't you do it?

What?

Jesus.

Have you ever played him?

Loads of times.

Excuse me.

Arturo could do it.

He's done it loads of times.

- Arturo! - Loads of times.

- Come here! - Arturo!

And so the day of the Stations of the Cross arrived.

You're lucky Macaluso wouldn't give up the part

even if the real Jesus came down.

And yet...

Ah! For...

- We praise Christ... - The notary's knee

gave out at the second station, followed by a mighty blasphemy

which Mr Guarneri played down for the local press.

Too little God.

There is far too little God among us.

And I feel obliged to thank Notary Macaluso

for sounding the alarm.

- Ow! - Sir! You weren't meant to fall here!

It's at the third station!

But I've wrecked my knee!

- Marshal! - I'm the Consul! Consul!

Consul, I've wrecked my knee! Ow!

Substitution!

- Substitution! Arturo! - Did he say "substitution"?

- He did. - Are you sure?

- Go, go! - Maybe he's all right.

And with the speed of a Formula 1 tyre change,

the Jesus Christs were switched.

Go, Arturo. You'll be the perfect Jesus.

In truth, Your Holiness, it was a disaster.

It truly was an ordeal.

At the fourth station, the first obstacle was the Madonna,

played by Notary Macaluso's centenarian mother.

Mother!

Who is this? He's not my son!

Unaware of her son's injury, she saw me as an impostor.

Mother, what are you saying? I'm your son, Jesus.

What son?

You're a liar. May God curse you!

Mum, leave Dad alone, okay? No...

- Get out! - Ow! No, ow!

- Not there! - Ma'am!

Ma'am! Your son has been replaced!

- You too! You want some? - He hurt his knee!

He hurt his knee! Fuck off!

- Mum, calm down. - Your son was replaced.

- I'll take you to him now. - You too!

We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you!

Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world!

At the sixth station,

I made decidedly improper use of Veronica's veil.

Loads of times...

Remember? When Jesus wiped his face, his image was left upon it.

- Arturo, I'm the Pope! - Of course you remember.

Oh, I really need that.

Thank you.

Ah! Ah.

Ah.

Thank you.

Don't worry. It's only a cold.

Flora! Hadn't he played Jesus before?

It must be nerves! He's done it loads of times.

Eighth station.

A great multitude of people and of women followed him,

beating their breasts and lamenting for him.

But Jesus turned to the women and said...

Excuse me, centurion.

- What exactly did he say? - I don't know anything!

Perfect.

But Jesus turned to the women and said...

Sorry, Flora.

I can't quite recall what he said.

Daughters of...

"Daughters of..."

Oh, yes!

"Daughters of"?

Come on, Arturo! She told you: "Daughters of..."

"Daughters of..."

Whores!

Don't make me speak! Don't make me speak!

I can see you! I can see you!

Yes, I can see you! Don't do it again!

- Don't do it again! - What's he saying?

Now go! Shoo! Go on! Away, away!

- Raus, raus! - Those are the holy women.

Substitution!

Oh, wasn't that it?

No.

I suspected as much.

And so Notary Macaluso returned to the stage.

Not even the resurrection of the real Christ

would have been greeted with such enthusiasm.

Flora.

It didn't quite go as we imagined, did it?

I don't know. It must have been nerves,

or perhaps I was rusty. I hadn't done it for many years.

But bloody hell, it really was an ordeal.

I did what I could, but I couldn't work miracles.

Arturo, this isn't about working miracles,

but about knowing things or not.

If you knew nothing about the Stations, you could have told me.

You've ruined everything, Arturo.

- Take off that beard. - Ow!

Flora, I know little about the Stations of the Cross.

Almost nothing.

I don't know if that was obvious.

And not only the Stations.

There are many other things I don't know.

Such as?

I'm not Christian. I'm not Catholic.

I'm nothing.

The only Passion I know

is the one I endure every day in Palermo traffic.

Arturo, what the fuck are you saying?

Flora, I've pretended until now because you changed my life,

and I didn't want to lose you.

You chose to deceive me about the most important thing I have:

my faith?

How do you think I feel now?

How do you expect me ever to trust you again?

I don't know if this relationship makes sense anymore.

Let's talk again when I return from Rome.

Dear brothers and sisters of Rome

and of the whole world, happy Easter.

Hi, Flora! I'm watching the live broadcast from St Peter's Square.

If you tell me where you are, perhaps I'll see you.

Christ is risen!

May it reach every home,

every family, especially those where suffering is greatest,

in hospitals and prisons.

How many deserts must people cross even today,

especially the desert within them,

when the love of God is absent.

Isn't that right, Arturo?

By my 35th choux, I began to think I was seeing things.

But God's mercy

can make even the driest land bloom,

and restore life to dry bones.

Arturo, do not lose hope.

Is that how you welcome a guest?

What is it? Never seen a Pope before?

I've seen a Pope, just never in my living room.

What good is a Church closed in on itself?

Jesus taught us that we must be among the people.

And here, as you well know, Your Holiness, you arrived and everything changed.

I'm here to help you,

and I may have the solution to your problem.

You love Flora and cannot live without her.

Have I understood correctly?

Yes, you have. Yes.

Until now, you've chosen to pretend to be Christian.

Why not truly try it?

I no longer know how a good Christian is really supposed to behave.

To be a good Christian, just follow the words of Jesus.

Everything you need is in the Gospel.

You need nothing else.

You must put your trust in it, Arturo.

Put my trust in it.

Look at it this way.

If it goes badly, you remain as you are.

But if it goes well,

you'll rediscover the love of both God and Flora.

Are you willing to take that wager?

Arturo, it was a vision

caused by an unprecedented blood-sugar spike.

We're talking about 35 choux here.

You see, sugar in those quantities,

according to a study from Mill Valley University,

can cause the same hallucinatory effects as drugs.

- Ricotta is like LSD? - Worse.

Much worse!

And you must be careful,

because the effects can last for days,

and you may have a relapse.

See the Pope again.

Again?

Yes, but don't worry.

Take some nice walks, get a little exercise,

drink plenty of water, and you'll see: you'll work off the sugar.

Flora, is that you?

Are you back?

I've called you loads of times, for...

For, for, for.

- Still here. - You didn't trust your Pope, did you?

- I understand. - It's only an illusion.

A side effect of the ricotta.

- It'll pass now. - Unless I see in his hands

the mark of the nails, and put my finger

- into the mark of the nails... - It isn't passing.

...and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.

Thus spoke Thomas to the apostles who claimed to have seen the risen Jesus.

Even doubt is part of our Christian history.

- It isn't passing. - Arturo, come closer.

Do you have a copy of the Gospel?

No.

I thought not.

Thank you, Your Holiness.

But I must leave you now because I'm very tired.

- Very tired. - Don't be afraid to take the leap.

No, no. I'll sleep for half an hour, then I'll take the leap.

Hello?

- Arturo, feeling better? - Yes, yes. I'm better.

- I told you. - Except when I got home,

- I had another vision. - What did you see?

This time, the Pope even gave me a Gospel to read.

Don't worry. They're just settling visions,

remnants of the sugar spike. Tomorrow, you won't see the Pope again.

"Jesus has no use for lukewarm Christians."

Bloody hell.

I never see this step.

- May I? - Tell me, Arturo.

How was Rome?

Good. Everything went well.

- Did you see the Pope? - Yes.

- Yes, of course. - Come on. You want news of Flora.

Did she talk about me?

I tried to defend you, but she's absolutely furious.

And rightly so. You humiliated her in front of everyone!

I don't think this will be easy to fix.

No.

Now excuse me. I have things to do.

There was that thing that...

Oh, yes. Wait a moment.

Listen, Arturo. Tonight I'm with you at the five-a-side match.

No, Tommaso. You're mistaken. The match is next week.

Arturo, I repeat: tonight, I'm playing five-a-side with you.

Oh!

You moved the match forward and didn't tell me?

- What am I supposed to do? - Arturo, there is no match!

As far as Beatrice is concerned, I'm playing five-a-side tonight.

In fact, there is a match tonight... I forgot. Sorry.

- We're playing together, yes. - Good.

Dear friends, today I'll discuss an Umbrian, not Sicilian, cake:

ciaramicola.

A ring cake made with Alchermes liqueur,

which gives it its unmistakable red colour.

On top, splendid white meringue covered in colourful sprinkles.

Enduring and sweet, like every great love.

It is, in fact, the lovers' cake.

Just hope you never have to eat it alone.

Graciously grant her peace and unity in accordance with your will,

who live and reign for ever and ever. Amen.

The peace of the Lord be with you always.

And with your spirit.

Let us offer each other the sign of peace.

Sorry, I slipped.

Peace and all good.

Peace and good.

I'll stay here.

In silence.

Don Salvatore.

I know. I'm asking a lot of you.

Perhaps I don't deserve your trust.

But let's remember that Jesus gave a second chance

to the sinful woman the Pharisees wished to condemn.

"Her many sins are forgiven, because she loved much."

Luke, chapter seven, verse... 36?

Five.

I don't remember, but those are the words.

Flora, I made a mistake.

But I have also loved you greatly.

And what is all this?

Is it a stunt, or do you truly believe what you're saying?

Because I won't be made a fool of again.

Flora, I love you.

I've never lied to you about that.

It's true I pretended to be Christian, and I was wrong.

But this time, I truly want to try.

Choux?

Choux.

"For this I was born, and for this I came into the world:

"to bear witness to the truth."

Ladies and gentlemen, the house is practically finished.

You can move in tomorrow, ready to go.

- Sorry I'm late. - Arturo, good to see you.

Don't worry. We've finished.

They've seen it, they're happy, and they want to take it.

Yes, we like the house very much.

Is there anything else we should know?

No. Besides, all the information is in the folder.

Erm...

Sorry, Roberto. Perhaps you've already told them.

If you enter the bathroom and look up,

you'll notice a large damp patch.

No one knows where the leak comes from. It's a real mystery, isn't it, Roberto?

Yes, I did notice a strange smell,

but the window was open, so I thought it came from outside.

No, from inside. Definitely inside.

It's nothing. It can be fixed in five minutes.

Mm, I don't know.

Ah...

Your Holiness, honestly,

I hadn't entered that house intending to tell the truth.

I'd marked that Gospel line simply because it struck me.

But then I did tell the truth,

and you can imagine the mess.

A real estate agent telling the truth!

It isn't done. It isn't traditional. It's against the rules.

It's like putting pastry cream in a cannolo.

Just as an example...

Why isn't that done? I like pistachio cream in mine.

Your Holiness, Your Holiness, for the love of God!

You know so much, but leave Sicilian food alone!

Pistachio cream in a cannolo is unspeakable.

It'd be like baptising a child with chinotto. Is that done?

- No... - Exactly. It isn't done.

Cannoli come with ricotta. Full stop.

It's small, but it's more or less exactly what I wanted.

I'm glad...

...but it's only right I warn you that this column,

like much of the building, has structural problems.

Nothing serious. It won't collapse. These things can be fixed,

but some work will be needed, yes.

It's beautiful here!

It feels like you can touch Teatro Massimo.

And this terrace gives me such a sense of peace.

Yes, yes...

...but the neighbour also holds frequent parties at night.

He's even had trouble with the law over these parties,

but he doesn't care. He won't even open for the Carabinieri.

He's practically a criminal.

What's going on, Arturo?

You aren't shifting anything anymore.

I know, Tommaso,

but the property market is like that. It goes up and down.

Sooner or later, the bubble had to burst.

Why has it burst only for you?

Have you seen everyone else's results?

I know, but someone must bear the thankless task of starting a crisis.

Then try to end this crisis.

All right.

Listen, Arturo.

Since Beatrice is rather suspicious at the moment,

perhaps drop by the house, have a coffee,

- talk to her... - You know I don't drink coffee.

Then have something else. Have a chat,

and tell her we've had to increase the frequency of our matches

in preparation for the tournament between real estate agencies.

You understand, right?

I understand perfectly, but I'd better not drop by.

Why?

Because if I do, I'll tell her the truth.

Why? What the fuck do you care?

Tommaso, does "do not covet another man's wife" mean anything?

Lucia is single!

Here he is.

"Everyone who looks at a woman with lust

"has already committed adultery with her in his heart."

"If your right eye causes you to sin,

"tear it out and throw it away."

"And if your right hand causes you to sin,

"cut it off and throw it away."

Arturo, what are you saying? I should cut off my dick?

Well done, Tommaso. I see you've grasped the deeper meaning and reasoning.

Well done.

Hungry?

Hello there.

Flora, I've been thinking.

What is it?

Don't you like me anymore?

Of course I do. You're beautiful.

- It's just that... - What, Arturo? What?

Having sex before marriage is a sin.

The Church isn't so strict anymore.

It doesn't invite you to make love with just anyone, but...

...with the person you love,

with whom you want to spend the rest of your life, yes.

It isn't the Church of 50 years ago.

But you're wrong there,

because the Pope says so too— the current one,

not the previous one, or the one before that.

He says, "Chastity teaches couples

"the times and ways of true love, generous and tender."

The current Pope, not the last one,

or the one before him, otherwise you'd say, well...

What do you expect the Pope to say?

"Have orgies"? The Pope plays Pope.

And we play Christians.

- Can I have a cassatina? - No.

Come on, just one...

I should add, Your Holiness, that we play Christians,

but with everything in the world— wars, epidemics, unemployment—

you're still carrying on about sex...

I followed your instructions,

but I confess I found it very, very difficult.

But, dear Arturo, I also said

that chastity mustn't be confused with sexual abstinence,

and that one must seek love, not lust.

To protect love—

love of the heart, the body and the mind—

pure love in giving oneself to another:

that is the beauty of sexual relations.

Oh, lovely.

- But when did you say that? - I did say it.

Bloody hell, I missed it!

For weeks now, I haven't...

Haven't... Haven't...

Anyway, you understand!

Arturo, don't speak of rope in the house of a hanged man.

Sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything.

That makes two of us.

I don't know what's got into Arturo.

The other day, he took out the Gospel and started reading.

What about?

I can't remember now.

That's not the point. He's gone mad at work too.

He tells clients about problems with the flats for sale,

warning them. Do you understand that this is a problem for us?

I mean...

We're real estate agents, not the Mission of Hope and Charity.

Well, the Passion affected him somewhat.

Now he's making a serious effort.

Like all beginners, he's a bit extreme. It's a phase. It'll pass.

A salesman who doesn't sell— I don't know how long I can afford him.

Take tomorrow's cassata. It's ready.

- Yes. - Don't squash it.

- No. - A squashed cassata at a Communion—

- people won't forget it. - It'll be a reimagined cassata!

Stop it. I want to make a good impression.

Remember to water the plants. Turn off the gas.

- Yes. - Bring in the clothes horse. It'll rain.

Then leave straight away. My aunt and uncle have cooked for you all morning.

- Very good! - They're making an incredible dinner.

- They can't wait to meet you. - Nor can I.

You do realise Grandma Rorò will be there tonight?

- She's 98 and is coming just for you. - Ninety-eight?

Then I'd better hurry over, or else...

- it could happen any moment. - Idiot.

Put the pasta on. I'm coming!

Yes, hurry up.

So!

What's this Arturo saying?

He's leaving once he gets the cassata.

Well, it's one o'clock.

He should be here by three, half past at the latest.

Yes. Take these. So much for just nibbling on a few things.

You know what we're like!

When is Uncle Arturo coming?

He should be here by half past three.

I hope he hasn't hit traffic in Castracane Bassa.

There's always traffic there.

Let's hope there aren't roadworks like last week.

It was gridlocked. Nothing moved.

- Hello? - Where are you?

I've hit a small snag, but I should fix it within an hour.

Everything all right? We're waiting for you here.

- Don't worry. An hour, perhaps less. - Okay.

He'll be here in an hour.

Everything's ready.

- Luckily, it's all cold. - He'll arrive.

Stop, Sabrina. We have to wait.

It's impolite.

- We have to wait. - You'll get told off.

He's messaged me. He's messaged me.

He'll be here in 20 minutes.

- In for a penny... - In for a pound.

I've made you a cassata for tomorrow unlike anything you've ever tasted!

- Enough! - Grandma! We have to wait for Arturo.

Flora, at my age, every minute could be my last.

My mother is right. Enjoy your meal.

Pass me the caponata.

At that time, Jesus said to his disciples:

"Therefore I tell you,

"do not worry about your life,

"what you will eat,

"or about your body, what you will wear.

"For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.

"Consider the ravens.

"They neither sow nor reap.

"They have neither storehouse nor barn.

"Yet God feeds them."

Hi, darling.

- Pleased to meet you. Arturo. - Likewise.

- Pleased to meet you. - Likewise.

Sorry. I had a small problem.

Has he taken Communion yet?

- No. - Good. Just in time.

I was on my way to Agrigento,

then I heard on the radio about the earthquake near Enna,

and I remembered the parable of the Good Samaritan,

when Jesus says:

"Love your neighbour as yourself."

I thought it'd be quick, but there were many problems.

And travelling by coach is a disaster.

I had to change three times. It's disgraceful.

We must do something. Let's write to the mayor.

- What happened to your car? - What?

What happened to your car?

My car...

A family was at risk of sleeping outdoors tonight.

I thought it was right and just to leave it with them.

But they promised to return it tomorrow.

To Palermo.

And your clothes?

Did you bring a change for the ceremony?

Of course.

Do you think I'd come without my smart suit?

Except it gets chilly there at night.

It's Sicily, but high up.

Many fled their homes in a hurry, and...

Now Saro is wearing my suit.

- Saro? - The petrol attendant.

The petrol attendant?

But he promised to return it ironed tomorrow.

It's nice.

It's comfortable.

But you brought Sabrina's cassata, didn't you?

- The cassata. - Arturo, where is the cassata?

Flora, you know how earthquake victims are.

They flee in a muddle and don't think about food.

I saw them looking peaky, tired and disoriented,

and thought it was right and just to leave it with them.

My cassata.

A little sweetness on a bitter day.

Ricotta, chocolate, sponge cake and marzipan,

sugar icing and candied fruit.

Combine all these ingredients, and you have the queen of Sicilian pastries:

cassata.

A senseless triumph of sugar that carries you to paradise.

Recommended for moments of despair.

Cassata is so good!

An earthquake of pleasure.

Arturo, thank you for the car.

We took the liberty of cleaning it and filling the tank.

- You shouldn't have. - It was the least we could do!

Compared with what you did for us, what is it? Nothing.

Ma'am, he's a saint!

Yes... He even has the stigmata.

Ma'am, here's the suit. Don't iron it. We did that.

Don't worry. He works miracles with an iron too.

- He's a saint. - Yes, a saint.

Anyway, once we're back on our feet, you'll be our guests.

- We'll be expecting you. - There's no need.

- It's the least we can do. Thanks again. - Bye.

- Thank you, ma'am. - Bye.

- To you. - Goodbye, ma'am.

- Bye, Francesco. - Bye. Thank you.

Bye, Maura.

- Bye, Valeria. - Yes.

Once again, goodbye.

- Drive carefully! - Yes, have a good day.

And who is he?

See?

They brought back the cassata too.

Of course, it isn't as good as yours, but it's still cassata.

- Thank you. - Arturo, will you introduce the gentleman?

This is Sunkaru, with an "n". Sunkaru.

Pleased to meet you.

Sunkaru, with an "n", lived in a reception centre

made uninhabitable by the earthquake.

Those in charge appealed for people

to host their residents temporarily.

So I thought of Jesus's words:

"I was a stranger, and you welcomed me."

Words later echoed by...

What's-his-name...

Anyway, by a Father of the Church:

"Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect hospitality.

"Some who practised it entertained angels without knowing it."

You did the right thing, Arturo.

Where did you plan to take Sunkaru?

Erm...

I thought... to our place.

Excuse us a moment, Sunkaru.

Sorry.

Arturo, you and I are a couple,

and perhaps we should discuss important decisions like this.

You're right, but there wasn't much time to decide,

and I thought you'd agree to take him in.

What should we do, contradict Jesus?

"I was a stranger, and you did not welcome me"?

Jesus has nothing to do with this, Arturo.

This is a matter of organisation.

- "Sukaru" can't... - Sunkaru, with an "n". Sunkaru.

Sunkaru needs support and opportunities to socialise.

It's delicate. You can't improvise it.

Don't worry. I'll take care of everything.

I'll look after the stranger in need.

It's become unmanageable.

So much for it being a phase.

And now, just what we needed: "Sukaru".

No, Sunkaru, with an "n".

- "Sukarun"? - Sunkaru.

Whatever his name is, Arturo has lost it.

I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable.

It's as though he wants to challenge me. He's constantly judging.

Yes, me too.

- He won't let up. - About what with you?

Forget the specific case. That's not the point.

It's this judgemental attitude all the time.

You say or do something, and out comes the Gospel.

Following the Lord's word is fine, but let's not overdo it.

Right?

Go, go, go!

Come on!

- That's a foul! - Sunkaru!

A linesman has to follow the ball.

Ball goes right, you go right.

Ball goes left, you go left. Clear?

How did he manage to cross... What did you cross?

The desert, Libya, the sea?

It's a mystery!

Lads, being a linesman is hard.

Shall we put him in defence?

Come on, keep backheeling it!

To Roberto! Roberto, Sunkaru!

To Roberto! As hard as you can! Go!

Bloody hell, I knew it! I knew it!

The bananas aren't just in his belly, but in his feet too!

- Better keep him as linesman. - It happens!

The sun gets in your eyes. Who hasn't had that happen?

He's not used to seeing the sun.

Immigrants!

Immigrants!

What are we supposed to do with this useless lot?

Do you welcome people based on their CV?

- Are you Christian? - Do I look Muslim?

If you're a true Christian, you should know what the Pope says:

that God favours welcoming people. And this is the Pope speaking.

There's only one step: God, Pope.

It wasn't God's neighbour's cousin who told the Pope.

That would indeed have been several steps...

God, Pope: only one step.

Arturo, what are you talking about?

Being Pope is one thing; governing is another.

No, no, no!

A Catholic doesn't stop being Catholic upon becoming a politician.

You're always Catholic, not only when asking for votes.

That's where the difficulty lies...

You see, we're part-time Christians.

When it suits us.

But perhaps you're living Christianity too extremely.

Why? Because I apply the word of God?

Let me ask you: which is more Christian, acting or praying?

Arturo, I'm only saying people find it hard to relate to you.

Which people?

Tommaso, for example.

I spoke to him, and he's struggling greatly.

At times, so am I.

Faith should unite, not divide.

Christ was divisive too.

So now you're comparing yourself to Jesus?

Obviously not.

Then what is it? A crusade against us unbelievers?

In Palermo, on All Souls' Day, it's traditional

to give a sugar puppet shaped like a paladin.

The paladins were Charlemagne's heroic knights,

who fought the infidels.

To make a paladin, you need two kilos of sugar,

200 grams of glucose, two tablespoons of lemon juice,

half a litre of water, food colouring,

almond oil, and lots and lots of stubbornness.

My daughter insists that I'm a traditionalist.

Look at these cannoli. Look, look!

Well? Look!

This cannolo...

...contains a mousse made with 70% ricotta, yes,

but 30% cream!

To make it lighter! Taste it, taste it.

Taste it, taste it, taste it!

- Dad.

Well? How is it? How is it?

Good!

Put that on your socials, all right?

Now tell me whether these or Flora's are better.

Er...

Well, Mr Guarneri...

as they say: between husband and wife, don't put the... candied fruit!

Not candied fruit, but cassata, yes.

- Well? - Wow, this cassata is beautiful!

It is beautiful.

I made this one personally

for tomorrow's dinner in honour of my friend Tano.

Naturally, Arturo, you're joining us.

No, Dad. Arturo has football. He can't.

No, it's at six. I can make dinner.

- Good, good! - Yes?

Tano deserves a grand welcome home,

surrounded by people who care for him.

- Guarneri, you're wanted at the till. - Coming.

Excuse me, I must go, but you can remain in contemplation!

Sorry, but who is this dear friend Tano?

Tano Puccio.

Puccio?

Puccio, that Puccio?

The MP who served seven years in prison for corruption?

Yes.

They're old friends, and please don't ruin his evening.

Fine.

And remember, Jesus isn't vindictive.

You know the parable of the prodigal son?

The father welcomes back the son who did wrong?

Yes.

There is indeed that parable too.

Exactly. So a good Christian must welcome

not only migrants,

but also those who erred and want to start again.

Because we aren't part-time Christians.

Right.

Your Holiness, those were the 24

most difficult hours of my life.

At six, I had the final group match

of the five-a-side tournament between real estate agencies.

The winner would reach the semi-final.

It pitted us, Trinacria Real Estate,

against Palermo Immobile, a perfectly apt name,

since nothing in the city has moved since the birth of Jesus Christ.

They only needed a draw.

Two hours later, dinner awaited me with the Honourable Tano Puccio,

who had thrived for years amid that immobility.

Our dignity is at stake.

In revenue, Palermo Immobile has never beaten us.

We can't let them do it on the pitch!

We have to break their horns!

Your Holiness, the lucky patrons of La Palomba bar

can still say today that they witnessed an epic match.

Contrary to their team's name,

Palermo Immobile proved very quick and agile.

They repeatedly put us under pressure.

- La Manna, stay with him! - I'm watching him.

- La Manna, understood? - He's covered, covered!

- Arturo, I said La Manna! - La Manna, yes.

In the seventh minute of the first half, we took the lead.

Goal! Fucking goal!

A few minutes later, however,

Palermo Immobile equalised through the much-feared surveyor La Manna.

Arturo, La Manna! I told you to watch La Manna!

- I didn't expect that... - Don't bust my balls!

I was expecting a...

After 20-odd minutes of fruitless siege,

- we regained the lead.

Palermo Immobile then launched a sustained attack.

I distinguished myself with some memorable saves.

But after all that tension,

one small lapse from me was enough to change the outcome of the match.

I think we'll win, Sunkaru.

What the fuck are you doing? Leaving the goal open?

- I was hydrating. - What the fuck are you drinking for?

- It happens. I won't hydrate anymore,

but hydration is important!

We were out again.

But with ten minutes left, Tommaso performed a miracle.

No offence, Your Holiness.

- Goal!

We could see the semi-final now, Your Holiness.

And then, with one minute left,

Jesus tested me, as he had 40 years earlier.

Surveyor La Manna took a free kick

that went straight onto the head of the manager

of Palermo Immobile's Agency 15, Oscar Gerlandu.

Before my eyes, I saw Dino Zoff's save again.

Zoff has saved it!

As I had challenged God 40 years earlier,

now he was challenging me.

- What goal? What are you saying?

- It's a goal! A goal! - It was right on the line!

Calm down, La Manna! We'll take you to court!

- Go on, get lost. - It was out!

- Tommaso?

- Arturo, don't be a prick.

Lads...

...truly, I say to you...

- ...it was in. - It's a goal!

- It was in.

- Arturo! - It was a goal. A goal.

- It was a goal! - Arturo, "Truly, I say to you"?

Who are you, the Lord?

Fuck off.

- What's the pleasure in winning... - Get lost!

...like that, by cheating? It isn't Christian!

If you won't listen to me, listen to Jesus!

Remember what he said: "The truth will set us free."

Yes, free to tell you to fuck off!

Tommaso, I didn't expect that from you.

Technically, that might be blasphemy.

Go and bust someone else's balls!

But...

Did you hear that?

Your Holiness, you said it yourself.

Jesus didn't lie. Truth is the path to conversion.

Even in five-a-side.

Right.

Besides, it wasn't even the final.

But Your Holiness!

All right, of course.

You won a World Cup with an illegal goal.

It was the Hand of God.

The Hand of God... Tell that to the English!

"It was the Hand of God..."

There you are. At last you've arrived.

We lost the match, and Tommaso told me to fuck off.

All right, tell me later. I need to tell you something.

Don Salvatore is still angry about the Stations of the Cross.

- Please try not to upset him. - All right... Excuse me.

Don Salvatore!

Hello.

- I asked you one thing. - I didn't see him!

Arturo, stay away from him. Don't make things worse.

All right, don't worry, but...

- Flora, can you come here? - Yes.

Notary.

How's the knee?

It won't give out.

- It won't give out! - We understand.

- Hello, good evening!

Let's switch them on.

- Champagne? - No.

Do you have any pastries?

Arturo, pastries are served at the end of dinner.

Salvo, bring him some pastries.

It's better.

It's better.

Thank you.

- Flora! - Hey!

Your father did very well to organise this welcome.

Tano has been a martyr.

He endured seven years in prison.

I don't know how he did it,

but he did it for the party.

- Only the Lord helped him. - True. Have you got drinks?

- Yes, yes. - Take a seat. I'll join you.

- The prodigal son, Arturo. - The prodigal son, yes.

- Here you go. - Thank you.

Here, eat.

You're here?

Hey.

Tommaso, it was only a match. What harm did it do?

No, nothing... Flora.

- Hi.

Excuse me, may I have your attention?

I've just spoken on the phone with our dear friend Tano.

He apologises to everyone for being late, and...

...he tells us

that he'll be here among us in a few minutes.

I must tell you, I'm deeply moved by the thought

of finally embracing him again after so many years.

Because Tano and I have been brothers for 40 years,

and I can swear to you on my honour as a pastry chef

that I have never seen him think an evil thought.

Never, never, never, never.

The prodigal son.

- Friends. - The prodigal son.

I invite you to give our president a fitting welcome

and thank him

for the dignity with which he endured the harsh trial of prison.

Like Jesus Christ on the cross,

he faced man's unjust sentence with the same dignity.

Our Tano did not ask himself

what he was doing among all those sinners,

- but accepted the will of God. - Oh, no!

The prodigal son is all very well, but things happened differently here.

Father, if you recall the parable,

when the prodigal son returns home, he repents.

He says, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you."

"Steal away, God forgives everyone"— but at least repent.

- What's he saying? - First comes repentance,

and only then forgiveness.

You're turning him into a saint here!

Arturo!

Since you're so well versed in the subject,

do you know how Jesus answered Peter, who asked him:

"Lord, if my brother sins against me,

"how many times must I forgive him?

"As many as seven times?"

The Lord answered:

"I do not say seven times,

but seventy times seven!"

Yes, but not 77,000 times seven!

Arturo, perhaps you'd better leave.

Right.

Right.

I wouldn't want to disturb this lovely community of practising...

...unbelievers.

Yes, because to you, faith must be theorised,

studied, historicised,

examined and contextualised,

grasped in all its nuances, and prayed about very, very much.

But no!

It is faith lived out,

deeds and getting one's hands dirty

that give a Christian meaning and dignity.

Faith in action moves things, not your comfortable drawing-room faith.

Come on, Sunkaru. Let's go.

What are you doing? You look like a Christmas tree.

What's all this stuff?

Why do you passively accept everything?

To be clear, this is Sunkaru, a friend of mine.

Just because he's Black, don't mistake him for a butler.

You haven't even offered him food.

Here, Notary.

It won't give out. Don't worry.

Sunkaru, I said we're leaving, so let's leave, all right?

Sunkaru, eat something.

Sorry. I raised my voice a little.

I was stressed about the match.

My manner was wrong. I admit that.

It was a rather disorderly intervention.

But look at the substance, because if you don't look at the substance...

- I was at fault. - I no longer know where you're going.

Once, a glance was enough.

Now I can't find you anymore, Arturo.

What happened to our relationship?

I'm a believer too, but I don't understand what you're seeking, Arturo.

What are you trying to prove with this behaviour?

That you're better than us? That you're the only Christian?

If you want to believe that, do.

But I think right now you need someone,

a spiritual father who can guide you,

because this extremism is ruining everything. Everything!

Sometimes it seems you only want to hurt me.

Flora, I already have a spiritual father.

He is the one who showed me the way.

And who is this spiritual father, exactly?

Erm...

The Pope.

Yes, Arturo. Yes.

All Catholics look to the Pope for guidance.

But his words need to be understood,

- and if you had a spiritual father... - Don't you understand?

He is my spiritual father, personally.

Well, not quite personally, but it is him.

Arturo, what are you saying?

Flora, after the Stations of the Cross, I didn't know what to do.

I missed you so much that I sat in front of the TV,

hoping to see you in St Peter's Square.

Meanwhile, I consoled myself with a tray of choux.

When I reached the 35th choux, the miracle occurred.

The Pope spoke directly to me from the television.

I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face,

and when I returned, I found him sitting in the armchair!

- The Pope? - Yes!

- In the armchair! - Yes, incredible!

I mean, "the Pope"...

A vision of the Pope caused by the 35 choux.

- The choux. The Pope. - Yes.

Arturo, what are you talking about?

It takes a while to explain properly, but in the end, he gave me the Gospel

and said, "Everything you need

to be a good Christian is here."

"Try!" So I tried.

Yes.

I don't think I can carry on, Arturo.

I'm sorry. It's best we end it here.

- Flora, wait! - Let me go.

Hi, lads.

Hi.

Hi, Lucia.

What appointments do I have today?

Tommaso said you'd better see him first.

I've reviewed your position.

It hasn't changed since we discussed it.

- I told you... - Don't bring up the bubble!

Roberto has sold four flats.

You haven't rented or sold anything,

except an old basement for practically nothing.

It had seepage problems. We were on the verge of fraud.

Listen, Arturo.

Do you want to take a break?

- Because of yesterday's match? - The match has nothing to do with it.

- Then because of the dinner? - No, no.

Because I didn't cover for you with Beatrice?

You should thank me for not telling her last night.

- Technically, I sinned. - Leave that stuff alone.

It has nothing to do with it.

The problem is your attitude at work.

I understand that you want to be transparent with clients.

That's right, but our job also means saying things without saying them,

- omitting them, to preserve the dream. - The dream.

Do you understand?

No.

You used to understand.

I see things differently now.

Listen, Arturo.

Take a proper break

and ask yourself whether you're still suited to this job.

Here you go. For you.

Hi, Salvo.

Isn't Flora here?

No. We haven't seen her today.

She won't be coming later, will she?

Look, I couldn't tell you.

- Sorry, could you box up 35 choux? - Yes.

- With ricotta. - All right.

- What did Arturo ask for? - Ricotta choux.

- Thirty-five? - You see, Your Holiness?

I listened to you and followed what Jesus said.

What did I gain?

I lost my job, my friends and the woman I love.

- Everything. - And you aren't happy.

- Who would be? - A good Christian.

I behaved like a good Christian.

I obeyed the rules. I did what Jesus said.

And you did very well.

Because rules are important,

and we Catholics are often somewhat allergic to them,

but they aren't enough on their own.

Obeying them makes you a good person, but not a good Christian.

St Francis said a good Christian is happy

when doors are slammed in his face,

when he is rejected,

because he is nourished by the joy of faith.

Without that, Christianity remains only a list of rules.

You must be ready to lose everything.

That is the strength that lets you follow Jesus even through the storm,

seeking no reward,

and not judging, as you did with Flora.

Now you want your reward,

but one isn't righteous to earn God's love.

You did much, but your gaze stopped at the error,

at the sin.

To Jesus, tomorrow's good matters

more than today's mistake.

Otherwise, I would never have become Pope.

Arturo,

there must be love in everything you do.

I shouldn't, because pastries are bad for me, but they look delicious.

May I?

Oh!

It may be even better than dulce de leche.

But let that remain our secret,

or my Argentinian friends will excommunicate me.

Oh, it's divine!

And coming from the Pope, that carries weight.

I must be mad to think I'm sitting here talking to the Pope.

I thought the same thing when I was elected.

They must be mad to have proclaimed me Pope.

The Pope!

Mm.

Arturo was right. You are very talented.

So you know Arturo?

Yes, we're rather close.

He's a good disciple,

but he still has some way to go.

You know,

God loves to test us, always.

He wants a living Christian,

and sometimes he entrusts us with rather complicated souls

who may challenge us, as Arturo did with you.

You let pride guide you more than your heart.

So you mean I've failed as a Christian.

No. No!

In life, we're always on a journey.

I felt joy in telling the truth,

and in helping others. I did feel joy.

But, Your Holiness, I'm ready to lose everything except Flora.

What kind of God would take love from us?

Indeed, what kind of God would that be?

Because now, without Flora, I...

...am lost.

So am I.

Flora?

- Arturo. - Flora?

Will you marry me?

Yes!

But on one condition.

What?

That you ask me many times.

How many?

Seventy-seven thousand times seven.

- Okay. - Mm.

Will you marry me?

Yes.

- Will you marry me? - Yes.

Will you marry me?

Yes.

That's three.

- Will you marry me? - Yes.

- And... will you marry me? - Yes.

- Will you marry me? - Yes!

Yes?

- How many are we up to? - You still have a way to go.

Yes?

I'd like that aranci...

- ...na. Arancina. - "...na!"

Correct.

How would you like it, a canne or a burro?

- A burro. - A burro!

- Take a seat outside. I'll bring it over. - Thank you.

Piccione!

- The Pope is here! - What are you saying?

The Pope! The Pope is here!

I'm serving the Pope an arancina a burro!

What the fuck are you talking about?

You won't believe it. The Pope came in

and ordered an arancina a burro.

You've hit your head, I'm telling you.

Take it to him.

Take it to him. Go on.

- This is wild! The Pope. - Take it to him.

- The Pope. - Bloody hell, the Pope!

What did I tell you? Take it to him. Go.

Your Holiness, your arancina a burro.

Cutlery?

No, Your Holiness. Arancine are eaten ch'i mano.

Ah! Ch'i mano.

- Yes, Your Holiness, ch'i mano!

Mm.

Oh.

And they say God doesn't exist.

Your Holiness, do you need anything else?

A glass of water, coffee, almond milk?

Pray for me.

"Pray for..."

Surely you should...

Of course, Your Holiness.

I'm Pif.

My name is actually Pierfrancesco, but I lost my surname long ago.

I'm agnostic, but I had Salesians and nuns at primary school, so...

No, no! I didn't mean that. Perhaps. I don't know.

But I'm writing a book, and it's your fault,

in a good way. It's about a man who,

to provoke the Catholic world,

decides to put the word of the Lord into practice,

every day, even in small things.

I am a Christian,

and when someone takes the Gospel and looks at what Jesus did,

they lose their job, their family. There is that risk, isn't there?

Oh God, sorry.

What's wrong, darling?

I used to be skinny, then I grew a belly.

No, you can't tell. Only the tiniest bit.