Original subtitles

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This is music too.

Salvatore! Peppino! Listen to me.

- What is it, Don Vincenzo? - Pasqualino, be quiet.

How does my song go?

I have three daughters that are beautiful.

My home is a cheerful one.

It is wonderful for my heart.

Wait, Don Vincenzo. In the end I would add...

Magnificent! How did you do it?

Wonderful! I'm going back now.

- These keys are lousy! - I can't now.

- I have the sound in my head. - Who should I talk too?

Put them there. I'll take care of it.

If I wasn't here, we would just make violin keys!

- Do a good job! - Don't get upset, Don Pasqualino.

Let us sing.

Peppino, it's 6. Let's go to the coop.

- Let's go. - Don Pasqualino, will you close up?

- Alright. - Bye, Pasqualino.

The Prefect has forbidden pianolas outside. We must protest.

What's written on it? I don't understand!

It's simple. The Prefect abolished pianolas.

The Prefect is from Piedmont. He doesn't understand a thing.

The Prefect from Piedmont must be convinced.

Naples is not Turin. Music is bread here.

Last night I had dinner with two songs.

- Were you satisfied? - Are you being funny?

- The Neapolitan song must live. - Right, Peppino.

In Naples music is something all of our own.

You don't need to be a musician.

- Peppino and I are blacksmiths. - Vincenzo is a shoemaker.

- Tommasino is a baker. - And he has a lousy voice!

Compared to that gentleman without a heart,

we are all conservatory professors.

- He's right. - Right! Salvatore is right.

You're right, Peppino. What you said is right.

Modestly speaking, Ciccio is here.

- Speak up. What should I do? - First of all...

Don Ciccio, you must gather the neighborhood people.

- Ok. - You'll take care of it.

Guys, did you hear? They want to kill the Neapolitan song.

They injured our heart.

Our music is the heart of Naples.

- Singing is our bread! - Long live the Neapolitan song!

Let's go. We'll defend popular Neapolitan music too.

At the conservatory, we study Beethoven and sing "Marechiaro".

- Excuse us! - Did you sign?

I can't write. I put an "X".

We are conservatory students. There's another one.

Nannina!

Giuseppe Savarese.

- Alright. - Wait.

- Impassioned singer. - Yes.

- Alright. - It's true.

There you go.

Salvatore...

Gambardella.

Peppino, I signed too.

Let's go!

I'd like to add a thought, a captivating phrase.

- Go on! - You want to write a novel?

No, but a few words in defense of songs.

- Did you sign? - Yes.

- Then that's enough. - May I?

- We won't lose time. - No.

Miss, I could lose my sleep over you!

- How gallant! - What is this? Miss!

- I have a right to sign. - You have a right to flirt

and find a playboy wherever you want, but not here.

Watch you words!

The lady is not a flirt and I am not a playboy.

- How dare you? - He called him a playboy!

- Women... - This is a protest of all of Naples!

- Sign. - We are all Neapolitans.

Wait for us to be able to vote, and we'll show you.

- Good for you. - You gave them a real lesson.

- We are all Neapolitans here. - I come from Benevento.

I study at the conservatory and know all the Neapolitans songs by heart.

- All of them? - All of them.

- I'd like to put you to the test. - Alright. I'm here.

- Question me. - Not here... just the two of us.

- Let's go, Carolina. - See you later.

Miss, don't leave!

- Why are you running away? - I must go.

Come on.

What a pretty girl!

- What do you want? - To know what that girl's name is.

Go away!

- Next! - Madam, please.

Salvatore! Peppino! Wait a minute.

- Gennarino. - You must do me a favor.

Can you give this poem to your maestro, Don Vincenzo?

- I'll take it tomorrow morning. - Thanks. Remember that!

- Don't worry. - It's something I care about.

- Let's look at the lyrics. - Wait.

"The Sailor", Neapolitan song.

"Near the sea we make love".

- Gennarino is bright. - "Heart to heart..."

These words are beautiful.

- Giovanna! - Salvatore.

Yesterday Donna Rosa waited for you the whole day.

She would've hired you at the lab. Why didn't you go?

- Because... - This life is not for you!

- You don't know what my life is. - Yes, I know.

But you're still so young. You can change your life.

- No. - Why don't you do so?

It's too late now. There's nothing I can do.

- Salvatore, I must go. - It's always like this!

She's exploited and mistreated like an animal by that scum.

We are responsible for our own destiny.

We grew up together in this courtyard.

I'm sorry, as if she were my sister.

Don't worry. Come on.

- Good evening, Donna Amalia. - Good evening, Mom!

- How are you? - Well, thank God.

- Did you iron my pants? - Yes. Everything is there.

- I also removed the spots. - Lovely Donna Amalia!

I couldn't be a parking man if you weren't here.

I don't want to live in Portici anymore. It's too far away!

I feel strong!

I'll become famous like Caruso.

- Where are you singing tonight? - In a tavern, a simple place.

This will end! An agent will discover me and take me to America.

Listen to him.

Tell your son to start hustling

- and not waste his talent. - What talent?

With every whistle, it's a new song every day that you throw away.

What can I do, Mom? I don't have the courage.

I don't know a single note.

I'm alone. Someone should help me.

There's that conservatory girl.

- The pianist. - Who is this pianist?

It's a secret that only concerns him and me.

I would like you to know that I like her too.

- Really? - Yes. Why?

Look at that face.

Just kidding! I'm looking for a rich wife who'll help me become famous.

- I'm not coming, Peppino. - Why?

I have something in here. I want to see what happens.

Best wishes!

- Donna Amalia, goodbye. - Goodbye. Good evening.

What a character!

"We made love near the sea."

This isn't music! These are noises!

- The maestro is upset today. - What did you do?

- Do you remember the song? - Yes. I remember it well.

Get out. Go. Find someone else in my place.

- You're terrible! You dunce. - A little patience.

- There was a note I liked. - I'm way too patient.

Go away. You're a dunce.

- The rhythm was good. - Yes. As long as you leave.

- The next one! - It's my turn, maestro.

- We're in a hurry. Do you mind? - Go ahead.

Thanks.

- Good morning. - I accept people who are talented

even if they don't know a note.

But not certain dunces. I can't help it!

- I said "The next one!" - We are three.

You must write the music for this song.

"The Sailor."

- The words are not bad. - I wrote them.

- And the music? - Here it is.

- And here. - I'll whistle it.

- And I'll sing it. - Did you read the sign?

We are willing to pay in advance.

Listen.

We make love

to have a good time.

- I'm a sailor... - Beautiful. I like it.

I didn't write this disgusting thing.

- My gosh! - What an ugly atmosphere!

Listen to them booing!

- Peppino, I'm in a cold sweat. - So am I.

Salvatore, look who's there.

Just think if someone knew I came to this club!

- The conservatory girl. - Yes.

Darn!

- How embarrassing if they boo me. - They won't!

- It'll end up badly. I'm leaving. - Where are you going? Come here.

- That girl is here too. - You'll hear a great song.

The last number now. "The Sailor".

- Giuseppe Savarese will sing. - Giuseppe Savarese is here.

- I'm ready. Peppino, please! - Don't worry.

Excuse me, excuse me.

Excuse me a moment. I'll be right back.

- I'm leaving. - Why are you going away?

Maestro, please.

This is your moment!

You don't care? Your friend is singing.

- They'll boo him too. - You are a pessimist!

- Let's hope not. - Yes. They'll boo him.

- Gambardella, come. This is it. - Gambardella?

- "The Sailor" is yours? - Yes. That's why I'm leaving.

You're afraid they'll boo? Verdi and Rossini were booed too.

I'm not Verdi or Rossini.

I don't know how I did it. I don't even know one note.

I did it by ear.

Girl, come quickly.

Don't make me suffer.

Even the net that I'm lowering

in the sea is coming.

Hold out your arms.

Help me pull.

This sailor

always wants to embrace you.

Near the sea

we make love.

Heart to heart

to enjoy ourselves.

I am a sailor

and I lower my net.

And I'm so happy

that I am dying.

Near the sea

we make love.

Heart to heart

to enjoy ourselves.

I am a sailor

and I lower my net.

And I'm so happy

that I am dying.

Salvatore!

- Gambardella! - Salvatore.

Gambardella!

- I don't know where he is. - Gambardella!

I didn't find him outside. I wonder where he went.

- Salvatore! - Where did he go?

He's embarrassed. He's shy.

Disappearing like this after having written such a beautiful song.

- What about my voice? - It's lovely, even with your voice.

- Even with my voice? - I was kidding. You were very good.

- Thanks. Can I accompany you? - No, thanks. I'm with friends.

- Will we meet again? - Of course. Goodbye!

- Goodbye. - Say hi to Gambardella.

Don Peppino! I'm the representative of Salone Margherita.

- I'm representative of Gambrinus. - I offer a contract for Sorrento.

Don Salvatore, why are you here?

It was a triumph.

Your song made me cry.

- You? - Yes, me.

I am what I am, but I have a heart here.

You'll have a wonderful future.

My heart doesn't make mistakes.

From now on, I am at your orders, Don Salvatore.

Then leave that poor girl alone.

- You've used her enough. - Don Salvatore!

"The Sailor", by Salvatore Gambardella!

The most beautiful song of Naples!

"The Sailor" by Salvatore Gambardella!

- Salvatore! - Don Vincenzo.

- You know what? - What?

I'm tired of seeing you in here.

- What? - I'm firing you.

- Are you kidding? - No. I'm firing you!

Because I stole the words to "The Sailor"? I'll return them.

I would never have written such a song.

I'll fire you so that you'll end up in the street,

and if you want to survive, you'll have to create music, my son.

Once hungry, you'll do it.

What music? I am not familiar with music!

I must work, or I will end up in the a street.

"The Sailor" is a masterpiece.

Who knows how it happened! Songs won't feed me.

That is the mistake. Ask those who know history.

Hunger created great masterpieces. Go on.

- Take off these clothes. Go on! - I don't know music.

You must leave. It's for your own good!

- You really think that I... - It's a masterpiece!

Believe me.

- Thanks. You've given me courage. - Thank goodness.

Thanks. Goodbye! Bye, Pasqualino.

- Go! - Run!

He looks like a fish escaping from the net.

You're still keeping my rags here?

I told you to throw them away. They bring bad luck.

That's nonsense!

Your good luck is steady.

Since Salvatore stopped working with Don Vincenzo,

he hasn't had a day of peace.

- What is this? - A letter.

I can see that! Did you realize what's written on here?

I can't read.

Ferdinando Bideri Editore. You know who he is?

No.

- Shall we open it? - Shall we open it?

- I'm asking you. - Shall we open it?

- Let's open it. - Let's open it!

- It's not nice. - That's true.

- I'll open it! - Open it.

- My gosh, it's bad news! - Bad news?

- It's wonderful news for Salvatore. - Really?

- I'll go look for him. - How wonderful!

Don Ferdinando, these two were contacted.

Dear Di Giacomo,

as per our verbal agreement,

we will carry out...

We will carry out...

a transfer of our installment...

- In the amount of... - In the amount of...

In the amount of...

Look at this letter. Did we write it?

It's signed Ferdinando Bideri, but it doesn't look like your signature.

I know.

That crazy Carolina did it again.

Darn!

Actually...

I am interested.

- Let Gambardella come in. - Alright.

Maestro Gambardella!

I'll go, or you'll get confused.

- Are you Gambardella? - Almost.

- Almost? Yes or no? - No.

Don't make me waste time. Come, maestro.

Hang in there, Salvatore.

Miss, you're here?

Yes. It seems that way.

It seems that way? It's the third time we meet.

I told you that we'd meet again.

- I live here, with my godfather. - Your godfather?

- Ferdinando Bideri is... - He's my godfather.

My gosh! This is a fortune.

My friend, Salvatore Gambardella. You know him.

He's there.

Let's hope for the best! I'm worried because he's a bit shy.

I came with him to give him courage.

- He needs... - A little push.

You guessed.

I'd lose my sleep for a push from you.

- Silence. - What is it?

They sounded like they were shouting.

- Shouting? - I know.

- Miss Carolina. - What is it?

I'd like to talk to you.

- Excuse me. - Certainly!

What do you want?

- Did you write this letter? - Yes. I meant well.

You caused another mess.

You know how Don Ferdinando is. He wants to talk to you.

- You'll be scolded again. - Too bad.

- Goodbye, young man. - Goodbye.

- I like you. - Thank you, Don Ferdinando.

- We must work! - Sure.

I'll give you a couple of beautiful poems tomorrow.

Give me all the verses you want. I'll take care of whistling.

- Ok. Whistle, whistle. - Goodbye.

- Goodbye. - Thanks.

- Well? - I'm in.

- I'm an author for Bideri. - Really?

- He said I can whistle. - We'll whistle.

- Let's go, or he'll change his mind. - Let's go.

- You want to know something? - What?

The conservatory pianist girl is here.

- She's Bideri's goddaughter. - Really?

Yes, you are lucky!

You have a contract now and will have fun.

What fun? That girl must be respected!

Miss, late as usual!

- Good morning, Pasqualino. - Miss!

Miss, excuse me.

How dare you come here! Are you crazy?

- I must talk to you. - They'll kick me out.

Enter.

Couldn't you find another place to talk to me?

I never find you alone!

My God! Come away. Come away.

- Don't come here again for me. - You're right.

I wasn't cautious, but I need to talk to you.

I've followed you for a long time. You didn't notice.

At Chiatamone, in Via Caracciolo in Santa Lucia.

- In Piazza Vittorio. - You saw me!

- Sure! - Miss, I...

I have a very important music recital today.

- I wanted to tell you... - I need to be serene.

Your recital is important, but so is what I must tell you.

Carolina, I care about you.

Very much.

- Salvatore, me too. Very much. - Carolina.

I'll talk with your godfather. Today.

- He won't listen to you. - Why?

He knows that my father is rich and wants to give me a rich man.

If he disinherits me, you must have me without money.

I don't care! I'll work.

With you close to me, I can create a song a day.

- It's difficult. - Why?

I don't know if I can make it. I don't know music.

I have faith in you.

But I'd like to be sure that in your heart, there will only be me.

Only you, forever.

- You swear? - I swear.

What will you swear?

If you swear something false, I'll pluck your eyes out.

- Salvatore, I must talk to you. - Giovanna!

What's wrong? I haven't seen you in a long time.

Why are you crying? What's wrong?

I'm leaving with the steamship. They're taking me to America.

America? Sit down. Explain everything.

Help me. I don't want to go. I'm scared.

- I want to understand... - We were kids together.

I know, but I want to understand.

- They sold me. - Who?

Nicola. I am leaving with another 20 wretches like me in 4 days.

What can we do?

I must return 1,000 liras to the American I'll work for.

- 1,000 liras? - Yes.

- Where can we find it? - I know it's impossible.

I don't know anyone who can help me.

You're my only hope.

1,000 liras is a lot!

We have four days. We'll look for it.

We'll find it. Alright?

- Who is it? - It's Nicola. I must go.

- Wait! - I must go.

- Carolina, what're you doing here? - Who was that woman?

She's someone who lives here. A poor wretch.

- What did she want? - She's in trouble. She wanted help.

- Why are you here? - I came to visit you.

Come in.

If I should say that I believe you, I'd be lying.

- Carolina, what are you thinking? - Yes, a lie.

- Tell me something. - What?

- Were you alone with her? - My mother is in the other room!

- Wait, Mom! Mom! - What is it, Salvatore?

- Do you see her? - Miss Carolina!

- Good morning, madam. - Why this surprise?

I came to San Domenico with my governess.

I said I was going to confession and I came here.

I wanted to see Salvatore and his home.

- I had bad thoughts about your son. - Why?

Giovanna came here because she had to talk to me.

She met her on the landing and immediately thought that...

No, Salvatore is a serious man. He cares about you.

You can be serene.

How stupid of me!

Carolina, do you like my home?

Yes. I like it.

If she doesn't see me come back, who knows what'll happen!

- Goodbye, madam. - Goodbye.

Bye.

I committed a mortal sin for you!

Goodbye.

I'll give you 100 liras, not one lira more.

I need 1,000!

Let me compete. If I win, I won't have problems.

It's my magazine's contest!

I won't let one of my authors compete!

I am an editor, not a Camorra man.

Take this 100 liras and that's it.

Enough.

- I need 1,000. - Gambardella, go away!

Goodbye.

You know me. I would kill myself for you.

- And so? - You can't solve this matter.

It must be solved, Don Nicola.

What other way is there besides the 1,000 liras?

None.

Salvatore, you're here. Here he is, sir. Please, sit down.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

- Salvatore... - Hi.

- I must tell him something. - Goodbye, Don Salvatore.

Goodbye.

Salvatore Gambardella, Mr. Trabattoni.

Counselor of the Italo-American Phonograph Records.

Shall we sit down?

- Phonograph, the talking machine. - I understood.

I looked for you at Gambrinus.

I didn't think you still went to these places.

I was talking to...

I'm signing up singers and musicians to take to Milan and launch them.

Launch them in Europe and America.

I am a man of few words.

There are signed contracts here by Caruso and Pasquariello.

I'll offer you a contract for a year.

Thank you. You are very kind, but I won't move from Naples.

Why not?

- You won't move? I signed too! - I know.

- It can be our good fortune. - I like living here.

I wouldn't know who to say good morning to in Milan.

You're kidding! Milan has become the Naples branch office.

There are more Neapolitans in Milan than here!

There's life in Milan. There is money.

- It's not a bore like here. - I like this bore.

- Alright. - Excuse me!

- My mother is in Naples. - Carolina...

And Carolina. I also have a contract with Bideri that expires in December.

You're right in being correct. Let's do something.

Sign a small commitment for next year.

I'll give you an advance of 1,000 liras.

- 1,000 liras? - Yes.

- Sir, I can't. - Salvatore!

- It's 1,000 liras! - I can't.

- Think about Milan. - Sir, I'll think it over.

- I don't know what to tell you. - Do what you want.

I like you. In fact, I like you more than before.

You'll be with me in December.

- Come, Savarese. Let's go. - I'm coming.

You don't understand a thing!

Good for you, boy.

You would never have created a song like this in Milan. Here.

- You think it's good? - It's the best one of the year.

Do me a favor. Copy it, but without my name.

- Without your name? - Yes.

- Why? - I have my good reasons.

I'll sing "Serenade in Sorrento" by Gennaro Procida.

- Procida. Who is Gennaro Procida? - I don't know.

Sweet Sorrento,

a sigh of love,

delight of this heart,

you are a bouquet

that smells of these flowers

with the kisses of this sea.

The fondest things

you have me forget.

The fondest things

you have me forget.

Sorrento! Sorrento!

How enchanting

is this sky, these gardens,

this air, this sea.

Sorrento! Sorrento!

You were made to enchant!

This sky, these gardens,

this air, this sea.

Sorrento! Sorrento!

You were made to enchant.

This sky, these gardens,

This air,

this sea.

I recognize your style. You are Gennaro Procida.

- He wanted to surprise us! - Scoundrel, deceiver.

- Don Ferdinando! - Traitor. You're a swindler.

- Listen to me. - Scoundrel!

You're telling a man who wrote such a lovely song that he's a scoundrel.

I have my reasons, Miss Consuelo.

- You know me? - You are the famous Consuelo,

queen of the international song.

Very kind of you. The author of this song deserves an award.

First prize, and I'll give it to him right now.

May I? The famous fencing champion, Raymond Vilberre.

I live in his shadow. I'm accompanying him on his Italian tour.

- Don Ferdinando... - You dishonored

the name of my publishing company!

It's not true. The 1,000 liras weren't for me.

They were needed to save a poor girl.

- It's a lie. - You have my word of honor!

- You won't win that money. - Don Ferdinando, excuse me.

Carolina. Carolina!

- Listen to me. - What do you want from me?

- We don't have anything to say. - What are you saying?

Men are all the same. You need women like that...

Carolina!

I wasn't mistaken when I saw her in your house.

What? You're taking it out on a poor wretch that I want to help.

I know, but you need lots of money for that.

Be careful because those wretches cost a lot.

With the false name of Gennaro Procida,

an author of my company participated in the contest without telling me.

I ask you to disqualify "Serenade in Sorrento".

- Who is the author? - Salvatore Gambardella.

- This must end here. - Of course it will.

- I'm telling you that it's over. - Listen to me.

Leave me! I don't want to see you ever again!

Salvatore, finally I find you!

What a triumph! Words, music and modestly speaking, my singing.

- You'll win the first prize. - What prize?

The steamship is leaving. They must've boarded that poor woman!

Wait.

Ladies and gentlemen. I have the honor of announcing

that the jury has chosen the following songs.

First prize goes to the song "The Night" by Antonio Capece.

Maestro Gambardella, your song deserved the award.

Thank you, madam.

Will you come see us at the Excelsior tonight?

- I don't know... - Mr. Gambardella.

- My pleasure. - Come tonight.

- I can't. I have an appointment. - Please!

- At any time. I'll wait for you. - Alright. I'll see.

- Excuse me. - Goodbye.

- Maestro! A magnificent song. - Thank you.

- I heard that "Serenade" is yours. - Yes, but I'm in a hurry.

I must go to the port. I'm sorry.

Sir, I thought about your offer again.

- You want to take me to Milan? - More than ever!

But at one condition. 1,000 liras in advance, immediately.

- 1,000 liras? - Yes. I need it.

Here is 1,000 liras.

- So we've agreed, right? - Yes, sir.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye. I have your word!

Wait for me here.

- Don Salvatore! - Don Nicola.

- Is that the steamship? - No. It's there.

It left. It's too late!

We lost her this time, poor girl.

1,000 liras, a dream.

That poor girl didn't deserve it.

- I feel badly for you. - Go away!

You and your hypocrisy disgust me.

Don Salvatore!

Your waist is like your mouth, Furturella.

Very, very small.

- Good morning. - Good morning, Mr. Gamabardella.

- Good morning, Mr. Savarese. - Hello, Ambrogio.

- We are here too! - What company!

- The glory goes to you. - One dies for glory.

- This recording is good. - Yes, it is.

Mr. Peppino has a nice voice.

- Ambrogio, is he in? - Yes, but you must wait.

- He has an important visit. - Alright. We'll wait.

Look out there! Fog, always fog.

Fog during the day and at night.

It's a beautiful city, but here you forget what the sun looks like!

How can I create Neapolitan songs?

- Am I right? - Yes. I am also very cold!

You haven't become Milanese like me.

Salvatore, you must find the right atmosphere.

You have to assimilate the fog and you'll create a masterpiece.

- Be quiet. It's nonsense. - Here you composed

- Serenatella and the Pizza Maker. - Great stuff!

Well? Be patient...

- Maestro Gambardella! - Miss Consuelo!

- You're here! - You're in Milan too.

- Dear Gambardella! - How are you?

I don't have to do introductions.

We met during a memorable evening. Right?

- The maestro is our author. - You're lucky.

Gambardella's songs are fantastic.

"Serenatella" is a great success. 6.000 records in two months.

"The Pizza Maker" a bit less. It's lacking in warmth.

- We must warm this young man up. - Let me do it.

Miss Consuelo, this is Giuseppe Savarese.

An amazing performer of Neapolitan songs.

Yes, I heard him. You're very good.

Yes, let him in.

I'm sorry. I can't let the American representative wait.

We'll see each other tomorrow for the contract.

Perk up! Work, work! Otherwise no glory and no money.

It's foggy. Cover your throat well. Excuse me!

I was sure I would meet you again,

but I didn't think here in Milan!

- May I ask you a question? - What is it?

That fencer of yours, that faithful and silent musketeer.

- Are you still in his company? - No, poor Vilberre.

- He's dead. - Poor thing!

In Paris, a couple of months ago.

- In a duel? - No, typhoid fever.

Don't think about it. I'm debuting at Eldorado tonight.

Come, please. I have a surprise for you.

- For me? - Yes.

Tonight I have a surprise for you.

I'll sing a Neapolitan song, by maestro Salvatore Gambardella.

Maestro.

When your mother made you, when your mother made you,

you know what she did? You know what she did?

To knead these nice ingredients? To knead these nice ingredients?

All that she put inside? All that she put inside?

A hundred hooded roses kneaded in the mortar.

Milk, roses, roses and milk and she made you on the spot!

There's no need for a gypsy to guess, Concetta,

how your mother made you I know better than you do.

And to make this beautiful mouth, and to make this beautiful mouth,

the same dose wasn't needed, the same dose wasn't needed.

You want to know what she used? You want to know what she used?

I'll tell you everything. I'll tell you everything.

A basket full of garden strawberries.

Honey, sugar and cinnamon to knead this beautiful mouth.

There's no need for a gypsy to guess, Concetta,

how your mother made you. I know better than you do.

And to make these gold braids, and to make these gold braids,

your mother became poor, your mother became poor.

My beauty, was it money? My beauty, was it money?

You know what she needed? You know what she needed?

An entire mine, all made of filigree.

It's what was needed for the braids. It's priceless to kiss them.

There's no need for a gypsy to guess, Concetta,

how your mother made you I know better than you do.

Bravo!

Bravo, bravo. Wonderful.

You were amazing.

Excuse me. Consuelo, you were delightful. Magnificent.

- Thank you. - What legs!

- May I introduce Mr. Gambardella? - Pleased to meet you.

- You must compliment him. - She gets all the credit.

He doesn't know one note of music. Amazing!

He's phenomenal.

- She's good. - My compliments.

- Please. - What charm!

My dear baron, thanks for your magnificent gift.

For a woman like her, I'd do anything.

Give it to me.

Thanks. You can go.

- Did you see what a success? - Yes. I saw.

Is your mistress always so admired?

Always, maestro. There are always gifts and flowers here.

So I see.

No. Excuse me, but I'm a bit tired tonight.

Thank you. Please!

Here.

- Bravo! - You're here!

Leontine... You'd disappeared.

- What do you think? Did you like me? - Delightful.

Delightful.

This is very Neapolitan!

You were wonderful, Consuelo.

I'll create songs just for you as of today. Only you can sing them.

Yes, dear. I'll triumphantly take them in the whole world.

You'll see, Paris, Brussels and finally Spain.

What? Paris, Brussels, Spain? And me?

I want to stay with you. I don't want to leave you again!

Naturally. You'll always be with me.

For an artist, the love of a woman is necessary.

Come in!

Excuse me, madam.

The count insisted.

He's terrible.

- He's an old useless count. - Little one, we agreed!

No more adorers around.

Leontine, see what a tyrant I found?

What should I tell the count?

That he can go knock at the door of a flea tamer!

There you go.

We've agreed, right? Either me or your adorers.

- You, dear. - In Paris, Brussels, Madrid.

Yes, my love. In London, New York. In the whole world.

You, only you.

The Vesuvius, Carmenè, watches you, it enchants you.

Listen to the sea around you whispering.

There, a table of French people, and here just the two of us.

Posillipo put French into my mouth.

"Monsieur, enchanté". With me.

I like macaroni.

I like pasta and beans.

I don't like to work hard.

Cheers for Naples and Paris.

The Vesuvius, Carmenè, it looks at you, it enchants you.

Listen to the sea around you whispering.

There, a table of French people and here just the two of us.

Posillipo put French into my mouth.

"Monsieur, enchanté" With me.

I like macaroni.

I like pasta and beans.

I don't like to work hard.

Cheers for Naples and Paris.

I don't like to work hard.

Cheers for Naples and Paris.

Finally!

This morning it's slightly sunny.

- Shall we go out a bit? - If you really want to.

Yes. We'll disappear in the streets of Paris.

We'll go back to the theater when the performance begins.

- It's so nice here! - As you wish.

You talked in your sleep.

What did I say?

Things that I can't repeat in the morning.

Love. Get up now.

- Here. - Thanks.

- What do the newspapers say? - A huge success.

Magnificent performance. Beautiful songs.

- Thank goodness! - Happy?

No, You have too many admirers, too many people around.

- Are you jealous? - I'm a bit annoyed.

I'd give up my admirers. You'll see.

All of them.

Salvatore, let's not go out today.

Consuelo, you're really lazy.

What did that boring Russian prince say to you?

That sort of Cossack was whispering in your ear.

- What did he say? - You really want to know?

He said he'd give everything he has to be in your place.

I can't stand that stupid husband of mine.

I have to sew his suit, but I must sing.

Everything is ready! I'm waiting for a contract to sign.

When they give it to me I will make my debut.

I chose an eccentric name, "Ninì Tirabusciò".

Goodbye my beautiful Naples. I won't see you again!

You'll lose Tirabusciò!

I can't stand that stupid of my husband anymore.

I have to sew his suit but I must sing.

Everything is ready! I'm waiting for a contract to sign.

When they give it to me I will make my debut.

I chose an eccentric name, "Ninì Tirabusciò".

Goodbye my beautiful Naples. I won't see you again.

You'll lose Tirabusciò!

I chose an eccentric name, "Ninì Tirabusciò".

Goodbye my beautiful Naples. I won't see you again.

You'll lose Tirabusciò.

I'm not Concetta anymore, but I'm Lilì Kangy,

favorite showgirl. You can say what you want.

When I made my debut, I just can't tell you.

People sent me many flowers.

Some think I'm French, others think I'm Spanish,

but I was born in Vico Conte di Mola and I'm the best of them all.

Some think I'm French, others think I'm Spanish,

but I was born in Vico Conte di Mola and I'm the best of them all.

Dear Bebè, what are you looking at?

I don't feel well when I look at you.

I'm not Concetta anymore, but I'm Lili Kangy,

favorite showgirl. You can say what you want.

When I made my debut, I just can't tell you,

people sent me many flowers.

Some think I'm French, others think I'm Spanish,

but I was born in Vico di Mola and I'm the best of them all.

Some think I'm French, others think I'm Spanish,

but I was born in Vico Conte di Mola and I'm the best of them all.

Dear Bebè, what are you looking at?

I don't feel well when I look at you.

Dear Bebè, what are you looking at?

I don't feel well when I look at you.

You don't know what you make me go through. I've lost my peace.

- I can't stand it anymore. - You are full-fledged Neapolitan.

I love you and you know that.

But I can't mistreat people who are nice with me.

Too many admirers. Too many flowers, too many gifts!

- Too many invitations... - I'm a theater woman.

I like success. I like men admiring me.

Your jealousy is ridiculous.

Come in!

Flowers are starting to arrive here too!

- They're waiting for an answer. - There is no answer. You can go.

- Do you have a girlfriend? - Certainly. She's very pretty.

- Give her these flowers from me. - Thank you.

You're welcome.

- Salvatore! - Consuelo, it can't go on like this.

You always tell me I'm a jealous Neapolitan. It's true. I know.

But this is the way I love. Consuelo, it can't last.

It's not true. It can't be true.

I don't know how long our love will last,

but until it does, let's try not ruining it.

Now that you are back in Naples, will you stay?

I don't know.

Is it possible you don't care about anything now?

You forgot everybody and everything?

Yes. It was easy.

Friends too? Me too?

You were always so dear.

I can hope to see you? Do you live with your godfather?

- Yes. - He won't be happy to see me.

But I can pick you up and wait for you at the front door.

Why not, Peppino?

You have become more lovely. What am I saying? More beautiful!

You are more gallant. Is it the Milan air?

Not Milan.

It's the Naples' sun. How beautiful!

- May I, Peppino? - Sure.

- Here are Gambardella's records. - Don't shout!

- Who is he? - A friend of the family.

In two days Consuelo's new records will come out.

At the conservatory they told me you were in the area.

I'm out of breath chasing you!

Thanks. You'll tell me how much I owe you. Goodbye.

Bye!

Goodbye, Peppino. I must go home. I'm sorry.

Goodbye. Carolina, one moment.

- I must go. - Wait.

I care about you. You know that.

The heart is the heart.

You must not be ashamed if you can't forget him.

You are a good man.

When a man falls in love with a woman, he doesn't reason.

Where can he be now? In what part of the world?

In what theater? Today he's here, tomorrow there.

If I wanted to write to him, do you know the address?

Ok. I'll find the address to make you happy.

But no more tears. Smile for me.

Thanks, Peppino.

Don Salvatore, so much the better.

This is not your way.

There's no more soul here, there's no more heart.

Your flair isn't pure anymore.

"The Sailor", "Furturella" are far away, in Naples.

Listen to this old man who followed you,

and is on your side.

Let's go back home, to Naples.

Seeing Naples again after a year, the Vesuvius, Mergellina!

- We'll be born again. - You're right.

Let's leave tonight. You take care of the tickets.

Write a telegram to Peppino Savarese. I know that he's in Naples.

Salvatore!

- This is for you. - Thank you.

Look at where it went before finding you.

"Carolina's Braids", by Salvatore di Giacomo.

- He wants you to compose the music? - No.

He didn't send it.

I wonder who did it.

It's very beautiful. Any music would ruin the words.

A love spite.

Carolina is a beautiful girl, but she is spoiled.

The poor lover who is crazy about her,

wants all her things to be spiteful to her.

That her comb tears away her hair, that her mirror steams up,

- that her sheets burn. - It's a wonderful idea!

Turn it into a nice song. It'll be a success in Hamburg.

No, Consuelo. It's not possible.

It's not for you.

You are too... Consuelo.

And Carolina...

Carolina is something else. Understand?

None of your songs will be for me anymore.

You won't create songs for me anymore. You don't love me.

Don't deny it. Be honest.

I don't inspire you anymore.

You didn't tell me because you didn't have the courage.

You've been wanting to tell me since Berlin and then in Brussels.

Then Vienna, London... I had noticed it.

You dream of the train that will take you back to Naples.

Homesickness is devouring you.

Yes, Consuelo. It's true.

- I won't come to Hamburg. - We'll go to America after Hamburg!

You don't know what you'll miss! You don't care about me,

but what about New York, Broadway, the great music halls?

- You would be famous. - No, Consuelo.

I don't care about being famous. We are too different.

You are a vagabond. You like going around the world, I don't.

I tried, but I don't like it.

It's not life for me.

I'm sedentary.

We were happy together.

We created many beautiful songs, but it's over now.

We've known it for a while.

Stop. Don't say anything else! There's nothing else to say.

Goodbye, Salvatore.

My train leaves in quite a few hours.

Think it over. If your decision won't change, don't come to the train.

I hate pathetic scenes.

- Madam, what will happen now? - Don't irritate me, stupid!

It's happened.

- Too bad for him! - What a shame!

- Go to hell! - Yes, madam.

- My goodness! - Donna Clementina, how are you?

What a surprise after such a long time.

- Since my poor mother died. - Poor thing!

It's been 14 months.

- Peppino, you're not getting off? - No. I have an important date.

I know!

Is she beautiful?

I like her, but it's over. It was just a hope.

- Donna Clementina. Well? - They are all upstairs.

- Tombella, I'll accompany you. - Thank you.

- Peppino, see you tomorrow. - See you tomorrow, Salvatore.

- Let's go, coachman! - Goodbye, Tombella.

- Do you have the keys? - Yes, thanks.

- I'll take the suitcases upstairs. - Ok. I'll wait for you upstairs.

- Don Salvatore! - What is it?

If you find a surprise at home, don't get frightened.

- What is it? - Don't worry.

- What is it? - Go on.

Alright.

- Excuse me, what's happening? - Maestro, welcome back!

- Dear maestro, finally! - Good morning.

- An applause for the maestro. - No applause!

Explain what is happening. I can't...

- Carolina! - Good morning, maestro.

Good morning, Carolina. Do you want to explain something?

Maestro, in the name of the students of the last conservatory course

we have the honor of offering you this piano.

- It's not new, but it works well. - As a homage...

To the past and future songs that Naples expects from you.

- Certainly, maestro. - Thank you. You are very kind.

- But I don't know music. - All of Naples admires you.

- You must create many songs. - I will do so, but whistling.

- I don't know music. - Nothing doing!

You have the piano now and must keep it.

We hope it brings you a lot of luck.

- I hope so. - People, let's go.

- Bye, dear. - Goodbye, maestro.

- Thank you. - Best wishes.

- To you. - Carolina, goodbye!

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Wait!

One moment.

It was you, wasn't it?

You, Carolina.

Thank you.

Wait. Don't go away.

We were two silly people.

So silly! We risked losing each other forever.

I won't leave you ever again.

Never again.

Listen!

Come back up.

I better go. You worry about working.

Salvatore, "Carolina's braids" didn't inspire anything?

- Madam what's wrong? - An old man is sick.

- I wonder what happened! - Excuse me!

Excuse me, please.

- It's you, Don Salvatore. - But...

- Did you see? While he was writing. - Tombella!

Away, away! Go away.

Tombella!

My poor old friend.

Look.

Salvatore, are you in Naples? How did it happen?

He wrote my first song.

He was writing the last one, but didn't finish it.

- For me it will really be the last. - What are you saying?

Who'll write my songs?

A comb that combs...

- Does it go like this? - Good for you.

You'll learn too.

I'll write the notes on the keyboard as they do with children.

I'm scared.

About what, Salvatore?

- Stop with these superstitions. - I don't know.

Tombella's death left a sadness

- that I can't overcome. - It will go away!

I'm scared.

I'm scared that everything I own, like you, the music

- will disappear suddenly. - No!

I'm here and I'm all yours. Happy to be yours.

- What if someone came to get you? - Nobody.

- Your relatives. - Nobody will take me away from you.

I am 21 now and can do what I want with my life.

I gave myself to you with all my love.

Don't think about this. I don't want that.

"Carolina's Braids" by Salvatore Gambardella!

Hear how Gambardella's recent songs ended up!

Great satisfaction!

Wandering players publishing company.

- It's a cruelty. - He asked for it. Miserable man!

It's history now.

I had trusted him. He had the chance for a career, and he abandoned me.

He even left the Milan people.

He won't find an editor willing to commit to him.

- If you'd like... - Me?

- To comfort her, it's enough... - Don Ferdinando!

- Ok. - Don't say big words.

They care about each other. Carolina was like a medicine for him.

- She's a wonderful girl. - You don't know me well.

I am a determined man. I will never forgive them.

Carolina, listen.

They just play Gambardella in the alleys now.

- What an end! - The alleys are the heart of Naples.

Without an editor your songs are popular just the same.

During these months we worked a lot.

- It's all thanks to you. - You have music in your heart.

I am only a modest scribe.

- You are a dear. - I'll go make coffee.

Here we are!

Who can it be?

You, Don Ferdinando?

Yes! Me.

You weren't expecting me, huh?

Come.

- Please sit down. - It's not necessary.

- I came for... - Tell me.

It's not the moment to get emotional.

Let's see if we can solve this problem you created.

- Salvatore, I'm talking to you. - What is it?

You wanted to be a misfit artist, the international gypsy.

You declared war on middle class conventions.

- We... - Be quiet.

What did you get from all this?

From doing all these things?

I'll take care of this because I'll do another edition.

Not because I'm her godfather,

but do you think it's possible that this girl must live like this?

Must she live like this?

Salvatore, you have to get married!

So...

Here are the certificates. They are all ready.

We had already talked about it.

We said goodbye to this bohemian life too.

That's good! Give me your hand, Salvatore.

What the hell! Carolina...

- Would you like a cup of coffee? - Yes. Good girl!

Now we can talk about business.

- Please, sit down. - Thanks. You sit too.

- Cheers for the newlyweds! - Cheers!

This is for the bride!

I must say a couple of words.

Salvatore, Carolina...

- Better if you sing! - Wait a minute.

- "Carolina's Braids". - Yes.

Comb that combs Carolina's braids,

do me a favor, scratch her one morning.

And you, mirror, where those singing eyes sparkle,

while she laughs and admires herself cloud up the glass

when she is admiring herself.

Sheets where

her gentle figure lies on top of,

be very hot and sting her

during this whole month of April.

And you, vases of catnip,

of rue and of reseda,

be dry on the terrace

when she comes to you.

Bravo!

For this nice company,

this wedding lunch must end big style.

Come!

An applause.

A tarantella!

- Peppino, let's dance this one. - All right!

Come on, Salvatore!

You come too.

- Peppino! - Salvatore!

- Do you feel sick? - You strained yourself too much.

My heart hurts. Let me sit down, Peppino.

- A chair, please. - Salvatore!

A carriage. Be quick!

- Doctor, how is he feeling? - It's serious.

I identified a wound on the aorta.

Maybe for his excessive work.

It was a dormant problem that suddenly got worse.

- Will he recover? - He'll have to stay in bed a lot.

In these cases the best medicine is absolute rest.

Please...

He dozed off.

Salvatore! What are you doing?

You're here!

Did you get up? Who'll tell the doctor now?

- Go to bed. - To bed with this sun?

Look at the sun.

- I'd like to go out. - Go out?

- Yes. - Are you crazy?

Yes. I'll go crazy in here.

In that bed night and day. Night and day. It's been so long.

It seems like a million years since I've walked.

Peppino, look. It's Spring.

My recovery is there. I'll die here.

- What are you saying? - Yes. I'm dying.

Let's go take a walk.

Let's take the carriage. We'll go to Posillipo and come back.

- Carolina will be upset! - Don't worry.

I take the responsibility.

Don't worry.

I'll leave it written. She must not worry.

I feel well.

This first rays of the sun

put inside my body a mad desire to go along the coast.

- She'll understand. Don't worry. - I can't come with you.

- You can't? - No.

- I'll go out by myself. Don't worry. - Salvatore...

- Nothing will happen. - Come here!

- Nothing will happen! - Salvatore...

I really needed it.

I had to see Naples again.

When I went to Milan, I turned my back to these marvels.

I almost despised them.

I think I just made it in time.

I felt that I it was getting late.

I said to you, "Peppino, let me out."

You did what you wanted.

- You obey only to Carolina. - Poor Carolina!

I was bad luck for her.

The thing that tortures me most,

that hurts my heart more than this pain, that makes me die...

- No! - Let me talk.

- Is the thought of her alone. - She's not alone!

Yes, alone! Alone...

Madam, Don Salvatore went out with Peppino Savarese.

- Out? - Yes. He said he felt well.

He went for a ride in Posillipo with the carriage.

- How insane! - Don't worry. He's fine.

Look, Peppino. I wrote this.

- You? - Yes.

I was born ignorant and will die an almost learned man.

"When the Sun Sets".

What do you think? I don't know if I managed to do it.

I would've liked to have put all this tired heart in it.

Carolina doesn't know anything.

What do you think?

Salvatore, it's marvelous.

Peppino, you must sing it to me.

- Softly, softly. - Yes.

I want to hear it.

When the sun sets

and everything

goes to sleep at night,

it takes on the color of a wet violet,

I think about you, alone and in love,

I feel you are mine and happy.

Without talking.

Without talking.

Looking into our eyes

you say to me,

"I am so happy!"

"I am so happy!"

Listen to the beautiful

sound of these words.

Come to me

when the sun

sets.