Original subtitles

God isn't for you, Lenny.

God is for men who have no use for freedom.

You're wrong about abortion.

You're spreading a sorrow you don't even understand.

And that's the worst thing a human being can do.

You've made the kind of mistake that should have been avoided at all cost.

Introducing concepts that, taken by themselves, are true

but which, when lumped together, constitute a system that's overly rigid.

Lenny: When it comes to abortion, rigidity is the only option.

There's no getting around it.

It's a crime, forbidden and punished

in the book of exodus 21:22-25.

You know that.

"22: When men have a fight and injure a pregnant woman

"and she suffers a miscarriage but no further injury,

"the guilty one shall be fined

"as much as the woman's husband demands,

"and he shall pay in the presence of the judges."

"23: But if injury ensues, you shall pay life for life.

"24: Eye for eye, tooth for tooth,

"hand for hand, foot for foot.

"25: Burn for burn, wound for wound,

"stripe for stripe."

The church has always maintained this tradition,

and it is only modern laxity

that wishes to turn sins into rights.

Not to encourage them.

No one is actually in favor of abortion,

but to undermine the principle of authority.

Oh, come on, Lenny.

You know these verses are a little more complicated than that.

Yes, the litigant pays damages in the case of an abortion

or suffers death if the woman dies in the course of losing the baby,

but that's not what this is about.

This is about compassion, empathy.

Lenny: Bouvier?

Are you seriously gonna waste my time with the bouvier nonsense?

Post-revolutionary France?

Or the bullshit of Saint alphonsus?

It isn't bullshit, Lenny.

That abortion is a grave moral disorder is not open for debate.

That's what Saint John Paul ii said, and those three words,

"grave, moral," and "disorder" are based on papal infallibility.

And yet, in 1591,

pope Gregory xiv, with the sedes apostolica bull,

restricted excommunication to the abortion of an ensouled fetus,

introducing a distinction

that argues against lumping together

disparate situations.

I'm sick and tired of distinctions.

Even for Saint Thomas aquinas

and right up until the middle of the 19th century,

abortion was said to take place only after the ensoulment of the fetus,

and that occurs in the third month of pregnancy.

Science is the gift of god,

and god taught us that ovulation is spontaneous.

Ask a woman about that.

Back when it was still believed that there were two kinds of insemination,

male insemination involving sperm, female insemination involving eggs,

it was considered a sin not to give a woman pleasure.

But then, when it was discovered that ovulation was spontaneous,

the cost was several billion female orgasms.

- Lenny: But it made psychoanalysts rich. - (Chuckles)

The one profession that involves no work and a great deal of money

that we let slip through our fingers.

I implore you, Lenny,

reconsider your position on abortion.

Tough in principle, soft in practice.

Abortion is saying no to life.

(Scoffs)

Who gives a damn about life?

Life is not some stupid centerpiece on the side table of nothingness.

Life is meant to be used and to be used well, to love and be loved.

And let me remind you what Saint alphonsus said about abortion.

In an abortion, everyone is guilty, except for the woman.

What if it wasn't only true of abortion?

What if, in things of life, everyone is guilty, except for the woman?

Are you talking about your mother?

Who else could I be talking about?

(Somber music playing)

(Bottle clatters)

(Spoon rapidly tapping egg)

(Groans)

(Tapping continues)

(Tapping intensifies)

(Frustrated sigh)

And what is happening to me today?

At 10:00, Robert Lee, the new chairman of the tea party.

At 11:15, a brief meeting with the chancellor of Stanford university.

At 1:00, lunch with the governor to fine-tune plans for the evening's events.

How long has it been since you've seen your father?

He's no longer my father. He's only my governor.

Don't you miss him?

He doesn't miss me. I don't miss him.

I miss everyone.

But more than anyone else, the person I miss is Mr. Jack walser.

He was the superintendent of the building where we lived,

before the lord called me to him.

He'd divided the tenants into two categories.

The natives and the nomads.

One day,

Jack rang our doorbell at 10:00 in the morning,

confident that Lucy and I would be at school.

But that day, we were in bed, sick with a fever,

happy to be safe at home.

Through the bedroom door, I saw my mother offer him a cup of coffee,

which Jack drank it standing up because he didn't want to get the chair wet

with his rain-drenched clothes.

No doubt, there was something bad he had come to say,

something important.

And then Mr. Walser announced to my mother

that the landlords had decided to implement

a substantial rent hike with...

With a caress.

Yeah.

With a caress.

That never really happened,

but that still came close

to brushing against my mother's drab hair

and my hair and Lucy's

and the hair of our father lying in a hotel somewhere in the city

with his lover in his arms, listening to the rain...

The way we were.

We nomads moved out of the apartment at night

so we wouldn't be seen by the...

By the natives.

But at the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Walser was waiting,

and he shook our hands, one by one,

and he said something to me that I've never understood,

which is why I still remember it.

He said to me,

"always get a seat at the back of the train,

"because it's safer."

(Kurtwell sighs)

Ku rtwell: Why does our Spanish prosecutor not go home to his pope?

Man: / couldn't say.

Ku rtwell: What does he do here?

Man: He walks. He drinks. He sleeps.

He drinks. He walks. He drinks.

Ku rtwell: Ah, he's battling against death.

Which is the least interesting of any of the battles

we 're ever summoned to fight.

(Rhythmic tapping)

(Sighs)

It's too late.

It's too late for what?

For everything, your eminence.

(Doorbell buzzes)

(Footsteps approaching)

Hello, Pete.

Uh, have you five minutes for me?

Sure, father Gutierrez.

I was just wondering if you had a chance to think it over.

Yeah. I thought it over.

And I decided I'm not gonna press charges

against archbishop kurtwell.

Why... why not?

None of the others filed charges, but at least they got plenty of cash.

You didn't even get that.

And have you ever asked yourself why they took the money and I didn't?

No, I haven't. Why didn't you?

Because I have my dignity.

Fine.

If you have so much dignity, file charges against that man.

That man is evil incarnate.

Why are you crying now?

Pete, you know I'm right.

Bernardo... can I call you Bernardo?

Yes. Of course you can.

Forget about me.

(Bell jingles)

Hi, Freddy.

Ciao, Bernardo.

How's training coming along?

I've been gradually intensifying.

(Chuckles) Nice.

Did you think over my proposal?

What proposal?

What do you mean, "what proposal?"

The idea of you giving me a hand in nailing kurtwell.

Hmm? That worm just drools when he sees you.

Not me.

I drool when I see you, Bernardo.

All you'd have to do is go out with him one night.

You could just stop before things went too far.

And in the meantime, I'll find a hiding place and take pictures.

Freddy.

Freddy, you are my last hope.

Bernardo, you're gonna leave here when you're done.

Please...

But I got to spend the rest of my life here, you understand?

I can't afford to cross a man like kurtwell.

He's one of the most powerful men in queens.

You can understand that, right?

Don't resent me for it, Bernardo.

I never resent anyone.

That's my main problem.

(Spits)

(Bell jingles)

Hello, Freddy.

What do you want, Freddy?

Just tell me what you want, and you'll have it.

I want to become a great tennis player and win the grand slam.

Fine.

Then you'll have it.

(Laughs)

Get out of here, asshole.

But...

(Sighs)

- (Door creaks) - (Bell jingles)

(Handheld fan whirring)

They told me the date.

It's for next week.

It's just one day of the year, Rose. Hmm?

An ordinary date.

They're gonna empty me out, Bernardo.

(Scoffs)

They've given me a 60% chance of dying,

40% chance of living.

(Sighs)

And if I refuse...

They can't even begin to guess at my life expectancy.

But I'm not gonna refuse,

'cause I need to start running this hotel again.

And I can't keep doing it from here.

Through six silent security monitors.

Isn't it nice to live

silent and flat on your back?

No. It's horrible.

We all deserve the right to start over, Bernardo.

(Laughs)

But you know what the funny thing is?

What is it?

How I'll leave this place.

How will you leave?

(Laughs)

Through there.

They're gonna have to tear out the wall,

turn it all into one gigantic window,

and out I'll go.

Dangling in midair.

Lifted by a crane.

It'll be a spectacular sight.

(Sighs)

I'll be so ashamed.

I have to go now.

I'm going to write to the pope.

It sounds so surreal when you put it that way.

(Door closes)

(Handheld fan whirring)

Sofia: I'd like to put together a press release

categorically denying the rumors

about murky relations between you and kurtwell.

A press release that states loud and clear this pope is blackmail-proof.

If, as you say, this pope is blackmail-proof,

there's no need to say so.

Sofia: That's the point, holy father.

On a strictly confidential basis, I need to know myself.

Can kurtwell blackmail you in any way?

(Laughs softly)

(Footsteps approaching)

Lenny...

You think you're the hinge.

But you're the door.

(Lying in the sun playing)

(Praying in Latin)

(Bell tinkles)

I love you all.

Where have Esther, Peter, and little pius gone?

To ostia.

They live in a house by the beach.

Peter is a private security guard now.

Weren't they happy here?

Holy father,

life in the Vatican is not much fun for young people.

Holy father?

Yes?

Everyone here says that you're a Saint.

Calumny.

Show me where you live.

(Somber music playing)

When you want to, you can come home.

I haven't accomplished anything with kurtwell.

Doesn't matter. Come home.

I'll be waiting.

Archbishop, your diocese is currently undertaking

numerous projects aimed at revitalizing the neighborhood.

Can you give us more details about that?

Kurtwell: Well, we have put a lot of money and time

over the years into this neighborhood,

and I think that through sports,

well, we'll be able to make a contact with the youth in the area

and to help instill in them

some of the values consistent with Christian life.

Reporter: Among the many sports projects

that your diocese supports, many involve tennis.

Why tennis specifically?

(Laughs) Oh, well, I... llove tennis, and it's been a lifelong passion of mine.

And you probably didn't know,

but this area is very famous for tennis for a long time,

and I think that tennis just offers a chance for excellent instruction of a man's soul.

The elements of tennis... Concentration, self-worth...

There's a lot of things that go into making a great tennis player.

And, uh, you know, it's a responsibility of the church

to help these children grow up...

(Kurtwell praying in Latin)

(Bell rings)

Yes, I'd be glad to.

(Grunts)

Okay.

(Grunts)

(Ice skates scraping)

(Pop music playing over speakers)

(Music stops)

(Lights snap off)

What's your name?

David.

David what?

Just David.

Why are you following me?

I used to skate only on the weekends

and only with my family.

Then one night, we were having dinner,

and my daughter, Kate,

who was 12 at the time,

says that that meal...

Was like being in a shark tank.

That's what my wife and I had become.

A shark tank.

Now I skate alone,

even during the week,

but it's not the same anymore.

Tanistone is my last name.

And it was my mother's last name, too.

Why are you following me?

Haven't you discovered it yet?

You're the missing link between me and the source of all of my problems.

(Camera clicks)

(Light music playing over speakers)

(Pool balls clacking)

(Bell jingles)

(Door closes)

What is going on?

Why are you and the holy father so determined to get me?

Because for years, you were so determined to get all those innocent children.

- That's libelous slander. - Hmm.

And I could bring you up on charges tomorrow morning.

You don't have any solid evidence against me.

What else do you want?

What does pius xiii want from me?

The holy father wants from you a statement that resembles the truth.

The truth is, I know Lenny belardo very well.

- Hmm. - We shared power in New York for years.

And the truth is, he's always envied me.

He envies me my charisma, because he lacks that quality.

That's the one and only statement that resembles the truth.

Be reasonable, please.

The pope has no reason to envy a sick old priest

who's devastated by very grave accusations.

Your thesis doesn't hold together.

Let me reveal something to you, father Gutierrez.

You don't matter.

- (Scoffs) - Not at all.

You can stay in queens till the day I die,

and it won't change a thing.

The pope can't get to the bottom of things with me,

and he knows that perfectly well.

Because it would lead to pure pandemonium.

I pity you, Gutierrez.

You're just a bit player

in a cheap piece of amateur theatricals

organized by your pope.

(Metallic rattling)

(Screaming)

- (Labored breathing) - (Handheld fan whirring)

(Whirring continues)

Man: (On radio) Our friends out there tonight, we 're glad to have you with us.

I'm David attouche,

keeping you up to date with today's biggest hits.

Gutierrez: David.

Attouche: You're listening to 104.9.

Is kurtwell your father?

David: Do you remember that girl that was skating this evening?

That was a moment.

Because only you and I saw it, out of the whole world.

I felt close to you.

I sensed that your despair was the same as mine.

That was the moment I thought to myself...

Attouch e: Enjoy this next track.

"I trust this man."

(Changes playing)

Yes, I thought,

"here is a good man.

"And I'm a good man too.

"So I'll tell that good man

"the things he wants to know."

Yes.

Kurtwell

is my father.

(Exhales)

But that's not the point.

The point is the horror.

(Upbeat pop music continues)

(Music stops)

I'm not afraid of dying,

but because I suffer from vertigo,

I am afraid of being swung out of this place through that hole in the wall

and being dangled in midair.

Don't worry. Hmm?

I'll be there to comfort you.

(Sighs)

And then I'll go back to Rome.

(Labored breathing)

- You're going back to Rome? - Yes. I'm done with my work here.

(Sighs)

You come say good-bye to me now.

But I'm not leaving yet.

No. No, you come say good-bye to me now.

(Handheld fan whirring)

Breathe, Bernardo.

I'm the one who's gonna die.

(Both breathing heavily)

Rose, please.

Bernardo, we're breathing the same air.

(Both breathing heavily)

Spencer: All of you, leave now.

No. Not you, Lenny.

Tell it to me.

(Somber music playing)

Just this one time.

Let me die knowing

I didn't believe in god in vain.

Tell it to me, Lenny.

All right.

(Birds chirping)

Young sister Mary: Let's go say hello to Billy.

I'd rather not. I'm scared.

But we must.

Billy is a friend of yours. His mother is dying.

And he needs the comfort you can give him.

(Doorbell rings)

Thanks for coming, sister Mary.

Please.

Billy, your friends are here.

Billy's father: Come. Let me get you something.

Sister Mary, can I go see Billy's mother for a minute?

I'd like to pray beside her.

Of course.

(Suspenseful music playing)

Lord, we must talk about Billy's mother.

Now. We must talk. You and I.

And no one else can hear.

(Inaudible)

(Exhales)

(Inaudible)

(Dramatic music playing)

(Gasps)

(Music stops)

(Sniffles)

Billy's mother is still alive.

Your mother is still alive, too.

(Exhales sharply)

And you'll find her.

(Sobbing)

(Labored breathing)

Now...

At last...

Time to die.

(Sobbing)

(Sobbing continues)

(Wind whooshing)

(Armored scarves playing)

Bring me back!

Bring me back!

To what do I owe the honor of your presence?

I have orders to accompany you to the Vatican,

where you'll be given a fair trial.

We have a flight for Rome tomorrow afternoon.

It'll only be a big waste of time.

For me and for you.

You don't have any solid evidence, you and your pope.

None.

Only the demented ravings of a lunatic who goes around with orange hair.

No one will believe you. No one.

We don't just have that testimony.

Oh, really?

Just what do you think you have?

This is kurtwell. Hello, Lenny.

Even though you let it ring and ring, I know you were waiting for my call.

Do you really want me to come to Rome and be subjected to a trial and found guilty?

I'm afraid it's absolutely necessary.

Then one second after! Land in Rome,

you're gonna see all the things I have on you in all the newspapers of the world.

Go right ahead.

The world will probably like it.

The world's always ready for love.

(Phone clicks)

This is archbishop kurtwell. Is this a bad time?

That depends.

I have some confidential information about the pope.

And I have proof.

To be perfectly frank, it's more than information.

These are ticking time bombs.

In that case, this is a very good time.

Especially for a journalist.

What's the subject?

I'm not talking about it on the phone.

(Whistle blares)

(Bell tolling distantly)

You see the kind of thing we're talking about here?

Letters that our pope wrote to his California girlfriend over the years.

We have a pope with a very active emotional life.

Where did you find them?

I took over a position that was previously held by belardo.

I took over his desk.

Belardo made the error of leaving these letters at the back of a drawer.

Did you read them all?

Only the pertinent passages.

The steamier ones are the ones that prove

that belardo has had a woman for years.

You should have read them all and with care.

In this last one, he states

that he'll never send these letters to that woman

because he's married to god.

Do you have any evidence that they were ever mailed?

Any envelopes with canceled stamps?

No, I don't.

Well, in that case, my good archbishop kurtwell,

you don't have any news for me.

No bomb, no scandal.

A stack of love letters that were never mailed isn't news.

It's strictly literature.

(Doorbell rings)

Pack the bags.

Call the chauffeur.

Gutierrez: You no longer have a car.

I put in a request to have it confiscated.

The cardinal secretary of state accepted my request.

We are going to take the train to the airport.

On one condition.

What condition?

That we sit in the last car in the train.

It's the safest.

(Never be like you playing)

Lenny: What is more beautiful, my love?

Love lost or love found?

Don't laugh at me, my love.

I know it.

I'm awkward and naive when it comes to love.

(Helicopter rotors whirring)

And I ask questions straight out of a pop song.

This doubt oven/vhelms me and undermines me, my love.

To find...

Hey, Daniel.

Lenny: Or to lose.

How do I look?

Lenny: All around me, people don't stop yearning.

Did they lose, or did they find?

- (Laughs) - / can't say.

An orphan has no way of knowing.

An orphan lacks a first love.

A love for his mama and papa.

That's the source of his awkwardness,

his Nai'veté.

You said to me,

on that deserted beach in California,

"you can touch my legs."

But I didn't do it.

There, my love, is love lost.

That's why I never stopped wondering since that day

where you've been

and where you are now.

And you, shining gleam of my misspent youth,

did you lose, or did you find?

I don't know.

And I'll never know.

I can't even remember your name, my love.

And I don't have the answer.

This is howl like to imagine it, the answer.

In the end, my love,

we have no choice.

We have to find.

All right, love bugs.

Mommy is gonna show you something that you didn't know mommy can do.

(Laughing)

- Both: Wow! - (Laughing)

Okay, ready to catch?