Original subtitles

Attention, please.

Alitalia announces the immediate departure...

of flight AZ-611 nonstop New York to Rome.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are now approaching...

Leonardo Da Vinci Airport near Rome.

Please fasten your cigarettes and extinguish your seat belts.

We thank you for your patronage...

and sincerely hope that you have enjoyed your flight.

Thank you.

Your name, please.

Armbruster. Wendell Armbruster Jr.

- You are from where? - Baltimore.

It says all that right on the...

- Your profession? - Executive.

If you must know, I'm vice president...

of Armbruster Industries.

What is purpose of your visit to Italy?

To pick up a body.

A body?

A corpse.

Whose corpse? Maybe Dr. Fleischmann?

Dr. Fleischmann?

The man whose passport you are using.

Wait a minute. I can explain that.

He and I exchanged clothes. We forgot to exchange passports.

He must be around here somewhere.

I was on the golf course...

when I got the bad news about my father.

He was killed in an automobile accident in Ischia.

I only had 30 minutes...

to make the funeral arrangements...

if I was to catch the plane. I had no time to change.

And how would it look if I showed up here...

in plaid pants and a red cardigan?

This way, Dr. Fleischmann.

I am not Dr. Fleischmann. I'm Mr. Armbruster!

I'm not Mr. Armbruster. I'm Dr. Fleischmann.

I just did this guy a favor.

Tells me his father is dead. What am I going to do?

There he is.

That's him!

What the hell did you get me into?

I'm sorry.

This is his passport.

Here.

That is mine.

- OK? All clear? - Yes.

- May I go now? - No.

Why not?

Because passport must be stamped.

Then stamp it.

You have to go back to end of line.

Look, I know you foreigners.

I know how you love to push Americans around...

but my father's lying in a morgue someplace!

I've got to get a train to Naples...

and a boat to Ischia...

and if you guys give me a bad time...

if there is the slightest hitch...

if I don't get him back to Baltimore...

in time for that funeral on Tuesday...

there's going to be such a scandal!

God almighty.

Eulogy, first draft.

We have gathered here to bid good-bye to a good man...

a rare man, a much-beloved man.

Wendell Armbruster Sr...

was an old-fashioned man.

I mean that in the noblest sense of the word.

In these days of defeatism and disillusionment...

he was one who believed in duty to his country...

devotion to his family, and dedication to his work.

Not bad.

He died suddenly and tragically...

far away from his loved ones...

alone in a distant land where he used to go...

to rest his mind and heal his body.

He was a philanthropist, a pillar of the church...

a tireless crusader of all that is decent...

and an ensign in the Coast Guard during World War II.

Friends, if I may borrow...

Yes?

I was wondering, are you Mr. Armbruster?

I'm certainly not Dr. Fleischmann...

so don't you start now.

Why are you shouting at me?

Yes, my name is Armbruster, but what about it?

I thought that's what you'd look like...

but I didn't expect you to be so rude.

What the...

Friends, if I may borrow the words of a famous poet...

"Lives of great men all remind us..."

Excuse me, but are you following me?

No, not really.

Yes, and how come you know my name?

I know a lot of things about you.

You're 42, you live in Baltimore...

you have a wife and two children...

and you're a former president...

of the Junior Chamber of Commerce.

You read the Newsweek article, right?

Business and Finance.

Incredible, isn't it?

The weather, I mean.

Especially to someone who lives in London.

Last year, summer was two days in June...

and three days in August.

Have you ever been to Italy before?

- No. - Neither have I.

As a matter of fact, I've never been anyplace.

It's a little frightening...

first time in a strange country.

In Italian, everything sounds like it's from an opera.

Do you know what that means?

What?

There's no soap in the bathroom.

How about that?

And when you're in a ristorante...

that's a restaurant...

do you know there are sixteen different kinds of pasta?

Spaghetti, spagatini, macaroni...

cannelloni, rigatoni, tortellini, fettuccini...

manicotti, gnocchi, linguini, ravioli...

Of course, I can't eat any of that.

I don't know if you noticed...

but I have this weight problem.

I noticed that.

And in the hotel, before a maid enters your room...

she asks,"Permesso?"

And if you want her to come in...

you say, "Avanti."

Forward.

You should really get yourself this little book.

I know all the Italian I need.

My name is Carlucci. Carlo Carlucci.

I am the director of the hotel.

How do you do?

I sorrow for you in your bereavement.

Thank you.

My deepest condolences... and my apologies.

What are you apologizing for?

That it should happen in Italy...

on an Italian road in an Italian car.

- He was a bad driver. - No. It was a bad curve.

As Verdi said...

An act of God.

Where did they put him? Where is he?

A very nice place. The municipal morgue.

- What are we waiting for? - Your luggage.

This is it.

How far is the morgue?

It is in the other direction. First we go to the hotel.

Hold it. I want to see the old boy.

The morgue, I'm afraid she is closed.

It is the lunch hour.

It's 2:30.

In Italy, the lunch hour is from 1:00 to 4:00.

Three hours for lunch?

Here we do not rush to drugstore...

for chicken sandwich and Coca-Cola.

Here we take our time.

We cook our pasta. We sprinkle our parmigiano.

We drink our wine. We make our love.

What do you do in the evening?

In the evening, we go home to our wives.

Crazy.

Exactly how did the accident happen?

I don't know exactly.

It was a dark night, and there was that bad curve.

Maybe he did not see it. Maybe he lost control.

The car plunged straight down a vineyard... 200 meters.

They must have been killed instantly.

They?

The police came, the fire department...

were at the wreck.

It took them hours to get the corpses out.

What do you mean, corpses? How many were there?

- Just two. - Two?

You see, your father...

he was not alone in the car when it happened.

Who was with him?

Nobody, really. Just an acquaintance.

Another guest at the hotel. They went for a ride.

It's beautiful out there.

You can see the whole Bay of Naples...

and Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii.

Here we are.

It sure doesn't look like a Hilton.

I accept the compliment.

This place will never be the same...

now that your father has left us.

I am Bruno, the valet.

I hope you have a pleasant stay, considering.

Thank you.

I will take you to your father's suite.

It is on the main floor because of his bad back.

Sometimes he would get one of his spasms...

and we had to carry him down to the mud bath.

Poor bastard. He really suffered.

It is the price you executives pay for success...

decisions, pressures, anxieties.

Naturally, the batteries wear out.

The transistors break down.

121-122.

If you please.

Nothing has been touched.

He always had this suite for ten years...

July 15th to August 15th.

You must be tired. It's a long trip.

I'm OK.

While you are here...

maybe you should take some mud baths.

No, thanks. I had one on the train.

On the train?

I drank it. They call it espresso.

Your father, he certainly blossomed here.

And the day he would leave...

he would put his arm around me and say, "Carlo..."

He always called me Carlo...

"What an idiot I am to go back to that rat race.

"I wish I could stay here forever."

To tell you the truth, when he first started coming here...

I thought the place was a phony.

A phony?

All this nonsense about mud and underwater massages...

and radioactive springs. Come on.

You may not know it...

but Ischia has been a health resort for 2,000 years.

The emperor Tiberius came here for the gout.

And De' Medici and Caruso and Sophia Loren.

Sophia Loren has the gout?

No. Here we cure everything.

Take Michelangelo. He had trouble with his kidneys.

He took the waters here and passed three stones.

They're in the local museum.

Shall I unpack for you?

Just put it anywhere.

Operator, I'd like to make...

You're not out to lunch, are you?

Good. I'd like to make an overseas phone call...

to the United States... Baltimore, Maryland.

Maryland.

"M" as in Michelangelo. He used to stay here.

You got it?

Operator? Hello, operator?

You still there?

The number is 426-9956, area code...

All right, I'll give it to you slowly.

How you doing so far?

Good. Area code 301.

I want to speak to Mrs. Wendell Armbruster Jr.

Yes, it was a great loss. That's very kind of you.

Would you call me back, please?

They must have liked my father around here.

Yes. When the news came, everybody was crying.

The orchestra in the restaurant...

they stood around his empty table...

and played all his favorite tunes.

Is that so? As soon as the morgue opens...

we'll go over and claim the body...

and next, we'll make arrangements...

First...

there are certain formalities we must comply with.

What formalities?

You cannot walk into a foreign country...

point to a body, and say, "That's my father..."

and walk out with him.

Why not? Do they think I go around collecting dead fathers?

You have to fill out some official papers.

Regulations about exporting a corpse, they are very strict.

Everything must be in triplicate.

A lot of crap. You fill them out, and I'll sign them.

Certainly. And then there is...

some additional crap to be dealt with.

Such as?

We will need a certificate that he did not die...

from an infection or a contagious disease.

Like what, mumps or measles?

He died from driving over a cliff.

Then we will need a certificate...

that the body has been properly embalmed.

We also need a mortuary passport...

but this has to be issued by the authorities in Naples.

Don't bother me with details. Just do it.

You're exactly like your father.

Then you will have to pay for the road sign...

he knocked over... you know, "bad curve ahead."

Pay it.

Also, you will have to settle with the Trotta brothers.

Who are they?

They own the vineyard where the car went down.

They want damages.

Settle with them.

They're asking 2 million lira.

How much is that?

$3,500.

$3,500 for a bunch of lousy grapes?

No. Let them sue.

I agree. They are crooks.

Then there is the problem with the coffin.

What's the problem?

For export, a special casket is required.

It must be lined with zinc.

It must be absolutely airtight. It must be...

Get one.

There are none in Ischia, but fortunately...

I have located one in Amalfi.

Then there's no problem, is there?

Another thing... I want a helicopter standing by...

to take me and the casket to Rome, so there won't be...

any delay in catching the plane to Baltimore.

The funeral's Tuesday.

Tuesday?

In the morning, 11:00, First Presbyterian Church.

Impossible. You must postpone it.

I what? What do you mean, postpone it?

So many things to do. This is Saturday.

Tomorrow is Sunday. Nobody works.

Somebody will work.

This is a Catholic country.

Then we'll get a dispensation from the pope.

For a Presbyterian?

Get this... come hell or high water...

I'm getting out of here by Monday...

because at precisely 11:00 Tuesday...

work at every Armbruster plant in the country...

will come to a stop so that 216,000 employees...

can watch the services...

on closed-circuit television... in color...

except for Puerto Rico. They get it in black and white.

And there'll be governors there and senators and congressmen...

and supreme court judges, the AFL-CIO...

the glee club from the Coast Guard Academy.

The White House is sending Dr. Kissinger...

and you want me to postpone it? No way.

Excuse me. I'm looking for Signore Carlucci.

- They told me at the desk... - I am Signore Carlucci.

How do you do? I'm Pamela Piggott.

You are not supposed to be here. You are in 126.

I know, but I need some help.

All these questions, all in Italian.

I will be glad to help, but not now.

I will see you later.

Damn it!

The faucet says cold, and I burn my hands.

So did I.

Then I looked it up in my book.

"C" stands for caldo...

but that doesn't mean cold; it means hot.

Freddo means cold.

- It's you again. - Hello.

- You know each other? - No, we don't.

Yes, we do. We've been traveling together.

On a train or a boat, there's nothing I can do about it...

but when you come barging into my room...

I assure you, I'm not trying to pick you up.

I'm here to pick up my mother.

They tell me I can't see her until after lunch.

That's right. The place opens at 4:00.

I hate going there.

I'd much rather remember her the way she was...

but I suppose it has to be done.

Wait a minute.

Your mother... where is she?

In the morgue.

What's she doing in the morgue?

What do people usually do in the morgue?

She's lying there...

side by side with your father, I expect.

Side by side with my father? Why?

Because that's the way they were in the car...

when the accident happened.

I told you he was not alone. Don't you remember?

My father and your mother?

Why not? You know how it is in a resort hotel.

People meet in the dining room or play backgammon or...

I'm terribly sorry. I had no idea.

Of course you didn't.

I must have seemed like some sort of monster.

Please forgive me, Miss... I don't even know your name.

If there's anything at all that I can do for you...

There is. Could I have some Kleenex?

I will get it.

Would you like some brandy? Perhaps you'd like to lie down.

Please, don't worry about me.

I don't know what to say. Somehow I feel responsible...

because if my father hadn't been driving the car...

You mustn't feel that way.

If it had to happen, it was more or less ideal.

Warm night, full moon, island in the Mediterranean.

At the height of the season. What more could anyone ask?

Of course, I'm completely at your disposal.

Any difficulties, any expenses involved...

Thank you.

Wait until you hear about all the red tape.

I heard.

For instance, you need a coffin lined with some sort of metal.

Zinc. You better get a couple of those.

I had trouble finding one.

Come on. You can dig up a couple of coffins.

You want secondhand coffins?

Is that Mrs. Armbruster Sr.?

Yes. They would've been married forty-five years this fall.

How sad.

That's my wife Emily and the two boys.

That's one thing I envy you Americans for.

You're all so thin. How do you manage it?

Swimming, horseback riding, golf.

I've tried jogging on Hampstead Heath...

at seven o'clock in the morning in a sweat suit...

but I never worked up a sweat. I just worked up an appetite.

Worked up an appetite.

What's that?

It's a nightgown.

What's the meaning of that?

- Of what? - That.

That. It's a mistake.

Here's another mistake.

I want to know what those things are doing in here.

If I am to get that second coffin...

I had better call Amalfi.

Hold it. I want an explanation.

An explanation? Now, let me think.

I'll help you.

The valet forgot to pack these things...

when he moved my mother's suitcases into room 126.

Right?

You just cannot get decent help these days.

Time!

You mean her mother and my father...

were shacked up together?

I don't particularly care for your choice of words.

All right, they were making it. Is that any better?

Just because two people are sharing the same suite...

or the same...

that does not mean there was anything improper going on.

Now you're being insulting to my mother.

She was a very beautiful woman.

She was.

And a lady.

And your father was a gentleman.

No matter how bad things look, you must believe me.

I have an uncle who is in the college of cardinals.

Would I lie to you?

You're goddamned right.

They were making it.

Son of a bitch!

Do you know how old he was?

67. A grandfather... with a bad back, yet.

I would be proud if my father was...

Shut up.

As for your mother, she ought to be ashamed of herself.

My mother had nothing to be ashamed of.

She was the perfect lady.

Meets a rich elderly American in the lobby.

One hour later, she's having drinks with him in the bar.

Two hours later, she moves her things into his suite...

and then...

They didn't meet in the lobby. They met in the souvenir shop.

What the hell difference does it make?

That was ten years ago.

Ten years?

This has been going on for ten years?

Every summer, July 15th to August 15th.

You mean all the time that we thought...

he was over here getting cured, he was getting laid?

This is neither the time nor the place.

Goddamn fool!

Didn't he care what people think or say?

Not to worry. It was all handled very discreetly.

They were registered as Mr. And Mrs. Armbruster.

Mr. And... Oh, my God. Jesus Christ.

Yes?

What? Am I ready to talk to Baltimore?

No, I'm not ready to talk to Baltimore.

Who's calling? I'm calling.

Put her on.

Hello, Emily. I'm fine.

The trip? It's fine.

It was just one of those unfortunate accidents.

For whatever it's worth, you can tell mother...

he didn't suffer towards the end.

I'm working on it.

There's no problems, just red tape.

Questionnaires, permits.

Where do you suddenly find two zinc-lined coffins?

Two? I didn't say two! It must be the connection!

What would I do with two coffins?

No! I'm sorry.

No, I didn't call the embassy.

They're in Rome, and I'm in Ischia.

What are they going to do for me?

How's mother holding up?

And how are the kids?

- Good-bye. - Good-bye.

Just a minute. Where are you going?

See you at the morgue.

How are the funeral arrangements coming?

What? Who's Miss who?

Piggott?

She's... in the hotel.

Works here.

As an interpreter.

Of course you need an interpreter...

even when you go to the bathroom.

In this country, caldo means hot.

This is the morgue?

Yes, sir. Seventeenth century.

The walls are that thick. The coolest place in town.

Good afternoon.

So nice to see you again.

How do you feel?

That's a silly question. You feel the way I feel... rotten.

We will have to wait. He is not here yet.

- Who? - The...

How do you say it?

- The coroner? - That's it.

Don't tell me he's still at lunch.

Very likely.

A coroner, he eats very well. He knows all the widows.

Pretty flowers. What are they?

In Italian, they're called tromboncini.

You don't say. What are they called in English?

Daffodils.

Now...

when it comes to dealing with the authorities...

whatever happened between your mother and my father...

we're going to have to be a little careful, aren't we?

Don't worry about the hotel register.

We fixed it. No more "Mr. And Mrs."

Let me ask you... moneywise, how are you fixed?

What do you do for a living?

I work in a boutique on the Kings Road.

I'm sure you could use a little money.

I mean, anything within reason.

You'll find I'm pretty generous.

You will keep in mind, won't you...

what's been happening to the stock market?

Since January, Armbruster Industries...

has dropped 141/2 points.

Like music.

OK.

Do you, Wendell Armbruster Jr...

swear that you are Wendell Armbruster Jr...

and this is the body of your father...

Wendell Armbruster Sr.?

I do.

OK.

Do you, Pamela Piggott...

swear that you are Pamela Piggott...

and this is the body of your mother, Catherine Piggott?

It is necessary for you to swear.

I do.

OK.

- Thank you. - Not at all.

I'm sorry. Go right ahead.

OK.

Any luck with the coffins?

Yes, sir. My brother-in-law in Bologna...

who happens to be an undertaker...

he has two of those caskets...

and he is sending them out on the first train.

You can sign now.

Come on. Just sign, please.

Not if I can help it.

All right, what happens next?

The red papers go to Naples for the export license.

The white papers go to Dr. Galupo...

to certify there are no communicable diseases.

And the green papers, they stay here...

until we get the coffins from Bologna.

That's all. But we have a small problem with Naples.

Like what?

They are closed on Sunday.

But fortunately, I have a nephew...

who knows an official in the license bureau...

and if he can get him to open the office right after mass...

If you ask me, any foreigner who dies in Italy...

is out of his friggin' skull.

- May I make a suggestion? - No.

- I have a super idea, I think. - Save it.

With all this nasty business...

zinc coffins and health certificates...

and export licenses... why subject them to that?

Why don't we bury them here?

Why don't we what?

There's a lovely old cemetery up on the hill.

They could be there together.

- They'd like that. - They would?

It would solve all the headaches.

Absolutely. The Carlucci family...

we have a large plot up there. They would be welcome.

Better yet, why don't we bury them...

in the blue grotto at high tide...

or in Venice, like Romeo and Juliet?

Verona.

Or we could build a shrine for them...

with an eternal flame.

It was just an idea.

They were not the unknown soldier.

They were the unknown lovers.

Let's just keep it that way, shall we?

Let's go.

Ask fat-ass if she wants a ride.

Tell him no, thank you.

He died suddenly and tragically...

far from his loved ones...

alone in a distant land where he used to go...

to rest his mind and heal his body.

Bullshit.

He was a philanthropist, a pillar of the church...

a tireless crusader for all that is decent...

and an ensign in the Coast Guard during...

Dirty old man. That's what he was.

Eulogy, second draft.

Friends, coworkers, stockholders...

we come to bury Wendell Armbruster Sr...

not to praise him.

The evil men do... Ignore that.

Wendell Armbruster Sr. Was a man for all seasons.

I mean, avanti.

The suit, I pressed it.

The shirt, it's like new.

Drip and dry... great invention.

Like electric toothbrush, roller derby, Alka-Seltzer.

I love America.

That's a switch.

I lived in America. Wonderful people.

So friendly, so kind.

When I left New York...

they took me to airport in limousine.

They put me on plane. They waved good-bye.

- Who's they? - The immigration department.

- You were deported? - Yes, but first-class.

In America when they deport you, they know how to do it.

Big 747.

Window seat.

Beautiful blond stewardess...

feeding me with a spoon all the way across.

Handcuffs, you know?

Who'd you work for over there... Mafia, Cosa Nostra?

Only part-time.

By profession, I am a photographer.

That's very interesting.

You are exactly like your father.

Not exactly!

I mean the size.

So I thought if you wanted to change...

here are all your father's clothes.

This is what he wore?

Plaids, bellbottoms, two-tone shoes?

He had one conservative suit...

but he's wearing it now.

He was a real sport.

See this watch?

He left it for me last year. Spiro Agnew.

And he gave me this lighter. Zippo.

- And a camera. - Is that so?

A Polaroid. Never served a nicer guy.

And as for the lady, she was a pussycat.

Natural blonde. Skin like vanilla ice cream.

Here they are all like black olives.

I prefer vanilla ice cream.

Here. Get yourself some ice cream.

They were such a swell couple. Always laughter, always wine...

and always the sign outside the door, "No disturbare."

They never get up until four in the afternoon.

What's there to get up for? Nothing's open. It's lunchtime.

And every night, the orchestra would have to work overtime...

because they would dance until dawn.

And then you know what they would do?

No, and I don't care.

When the sun came up over Mount Vesuvius...

they would go swimming... no bathing suit, no nothing.

No nothing?

Like the man says on TV...

"In life you only go around once...

"so grab all the gusto you can."

They were swimming naked right outside this hotel?

Why not?

Everybody asleep. Nobody watching.

Except you, I imagine.

I always get up very early to shine the shoes.

And that's where the Polaroid comes in, I guess.

I couldn't help it. It was so spectacular...

the sun coming up on the Bay of Naples.

I know, yes, and Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii.

I am not a landscape man.

Only portraits and figures.

How is your focus?

Perfect. Color perfect.

And the water here, it is perfectly transparent.

So are you, buddy.

Maybe you want to see the pictures.

- Maybe. - Maybe I can find them.

I'll bet you a hundred bucks you can.

It's not a question of money.

I just think that any time one American...

can help another American...

I'm sorry to intrude...

but there are important developments.

What is it now?

I have good news, and I have bad news.

About the coffins, there is a railroad strike in Bologna...

so they put the coffins on a plane...

and now the airport is fogged in.

- Naturally. - But they say it will fog out.

About the health certificate, I finally reached Dr. Galupo...

on the phone in the operating room.

He cannot come.

Why not? How long does it take him to operate?

You do not understand. They are operating on him.

Double hernia.

So now we are trying to get the municipal doctor from Capri.

- About the export license... - Go ahead. Pour it on.

You know my nephew in Naples.

He is not in Naples. He is in Firenze.

But he is going to help us.

So he will take a plane from Firenze to Naples...

that is, unless the fog moves from Bologna to Firenze.

All right, let's have the good news.

That was the good news. The bad news is...

Something mysterious has happened.

What?

You remember the bodies in the mortuary?

Of course I remember them.

They're not there anymore.

What do you mean, "They're not there anymore"?

They are missing.

Signore Cipriani informs me that when he locked up the place...

the bodies were gone.

Gone? Gone where?

That is the mystery.

When he looked in at 5:00, the bodies were still there...

and so was Miss Piggott.

He saw her pull up the shade and open the window.

That kook. That sentimental idiot.

Please. You don't really think she took the bodies?

That's preposterous.

Preposterous to you, preposterous to me...

but not to her, because she's off her rocker!

Hello. Get me Miss Piggott's room.

- I don't know the number. - 126.

Just get her.

Let us be logical. How could she manage?

A little girl like that? Two bodies?

Little girl? She's built like a Japanese wrestler.

What? Try the lobby. Try the souvenir shop.

How the hell should I know? Get her paged!

Signore Cipriani tells me...

he will have to report this to the police.

No police. We don't want any police.

We don't want any reports.

We're gonna handle this ourselves.

Here. Get yourself some ice cream. Bye-bye.

You'd better start checking...

on that family plot up at the cemetery.

I don't believe it.

There must be some other explanation.

What other explanation?

Who the hell else is gonna want those two bodies...

Dr. Christian Bernard?

Goddamn you, Miss Piggott.

Hello, Emily. How are you?

It's Baltimore.

I'm sorry. I thought you were Miss Piggott...

the interpreter. Ding-a-ling.

She keeps fouling everything up.

I can't fire her. I need her.

No problems. Just a few loose ends here and there...

but I am on top of the situation.

Yes, I'm positive. There will be no postponement.

The State Department? Don't bother.

I don't need any help from the State Department.

Yes. I saw him this afternoon at the mortuary.

I haven't seen him lately.

How's mother?

I hope she's all right for the services.

We certainly don't want any hysterics...

with television and everything.

Thank God it'll be a closed casket.

Have you heard from Billy Graham?

That's good. Listen.

What do you think if he did the eulogy?

Because I'm so emotionally involved.

Ask him. What's all the noise in the background?

Kids are watching the Baltimore Orioles.

What's the score?

Give them my love... between innings.

And kiss-kiss.

Where the hell is that Piggott?

I checked with the cemetery.

No bodies. As for Miss Piggott...

- What about her? - She's in her room.

She will not answer the telephone.

She will not open the door.

She won't?

Please, no violence. This is a first-class hotel.

Sure.

And if she really is a kook, one wrong move, one push...

and she will fall off that rocker.

God knows what she will do.

I better play it cool. Watch me. Caldo.

I mean, freddo.

Go away.

Would you please open the door?

Go away.

I have this problem...

because there's no saponi in my bagno.

There's no soap in my bathroom.

Please.

No.

No?

Cool.

You promised.

Where are you?

Did I wake you up?

If you don't leave immediately, I shall call the concierge.

I've been giving a great deal of thought to our relationship.

Operator.

And I have a sneaking suspicion...

there's something wrong with it.

Operator, get me the concierge.

The trouble is, we got off on the wrong foot.

I've been called plump, I've been called pudgy...

I've been called chubby...

but I've never been called fat-ass!

- Did I say that? - You certainly did.

Shame on me.

The truth of the matter is...

I kind of like girls with a little upholstery...

here and there. I think most men do.

I know we have this chemical plant in New Jersey.

And you know what our fastest-moving item is?

Silicone for injections.

Take those models in "Vogue," like Twiggy and all the rest...

nothing but skin and bones.

A man gets lucky, and he ends up black and blue.

You could even cut yourself.

Like making it with a pogo stick.

Are you looking for something?

When you first brought up this notion...

in the morgue this afternoon...

What notion?

About having the two buried together.

I didn't think you were really serious.

I'm as sentimental as the next man...

but we're grownup people...

and if you look at this thing realistically...

What I'm trying to say is I can take a joke.

A joke? Lovers resting in peace, side by side?

Is that your idea of a joke?

All right, damn it! Where are they?

What the hell did you do with them?

I don't know what you mean.

Yes, you do! Come on! Quit horsing around!

I am not to be shouted at.

I am under orders of my psychiatrist.

You got a psychiatrist. I'm not surprised.

It's because of my weight problem.

He's got me on a diet and pills...

and self-hypnosis and sleep therapy.

He wants me to sleep a lot...

because you can't eat while you're sleeping.

Sometimes I sleep around the clock.

Good for you. Right now all I want to know...

Right now, I'm going to have my dinner...

I'm going to hypnotize myself...

and if you want to have any further discussion...

come back tomorrow afternoon.

Tomorrow afternoon? For Christ's sake!

Don't you understand? I'm on a schedule!

You're shouting again.

And in my weakened condition... an apple three times a day...

and a teaspoonful of honey.

Get me the dining room.

Please call from your own phone.

I'd like to make a reservation for two.

The name is Armbruster... Armbruster Jr.

Really? That would be nice.

Shall we say in about 20 minutes?

Guess what table we got.

Just turn off the light and go.

Where they had dinner every night.

I thought that would be kind of nice...

if we had the same table, same wine, same music.

You should have heard the maitre d'...

when I made the reservation.

He had tears in his voice.

This is no time to be stubborn or selfish.

This has nothing to do with you or me.

It's more like a farewell gesture to them.

They would like that!

Shall we say in about 20 minutes?

The fog in Bologna, it has moved out...

and the coffins are on the way.

Great. First we had bodies and no coffins.

Now we have coffins and no bodies.

I have searched the hotel with fine-tooth comb...

even the mud baths.

Of course, you must be.

Same face, same suit.

Good evening.

The table is ready.

Not yet. I'm waiting for the young lady.

Of course. You will wait at the bar.

Everything has been anticipated.

- Here you are. - What's that?

A whisky sour on the sour side...

and for the lady, a Bacardi on the sweet side.

- That's what they used to have? - Always.

Always.

That's Baron Forshmetelli.

He's ninety years old.

Been coming here since before World War I.

Remarkable. This place must take years off your life.

It certainly does.

Every year his nurses, they keep getting younger and younger.

I'm sorry to be late.

I had trouble getting into my dress.

Actually, it's my mother's dress.

That's only fair. Actually, this is my father's suit.

Here's your drink.

What's this?

It's a Bacardi for you and a whiskey sour for me.

That's what they always had.

I don't drink.

Look, Miss Piggott... Pamela...

if this evening is to be a salute to them...

then please don't louse it up.

Of course not.

To mother and father.

Wherever they may be.

I think the captain is signaling. Table twelve.

Yes. Thank you.

Welcome. I welcome you.

The orchestra welcomes you.

That was their favorite tune.

How very thoughtful.

Madam always sat on your father's left.

Of course. It was his good ear.

Shall we start with a little pasta?

We have spaghetti, spaghettini, spaghettoni, macaroni...

cannelloni, rigatoni, tortellini, fettuccine...

tagliarini, buccatini, manicotti, bumbalotti...

cappelotti, crosetti, fuccitti, tranetti...

pappadelli, tagliatelli...

Tell me, what would they have had?

A few gnocchi, a few ravioli...

and some green noodles for color.

Perfect.

As for the wine...

they would always have a Bianco Lela 1961 with the pasta...

and the Carba De Salaparucta with the entree.

Any special entree that they liked?

Indeed. I have taken the liberty...

of ordering duck a I'orange for two.

Super.

Not for me. I brought my dinner.

In that case, I'll have the duck a I'orange...

for two for one.

Would madam like a little cheese with that?

No, thank you.

Shall I take it out to the kitchen and have it peeled?

I'll manage.

Very good.

I admire your willpower.

Do you know how much I weigh?

91/2 stone. That's 133 pounds.

I'm determined to lose at least 2 stone.

You came to the right place. Michelangelo lost 3 stones here.

Bertram and I, we used to go...

to an Italian restaurant in Soho...

but it was nothing like this.

The waiters were all Greek, and the cook was Chinese.

Who's Bertram?

My boyfriend.

We've been together now for a year and a half.

What you would call shacked up.

Would you like to see his picture?

Sure.

That's Bertram, the one in the middle.

- Plays lead guitar. - Is that so?

They're a terrific group.

They call themselves the Four Apostles.

Matthew, Mark, Luke...

And Bertram.

He's also a terrific composer.

Right now, he's writing a rock musical called Splash.

Splash?

Yes. It's about the sinking of the Titanic.

You know, I must admit, I feel rather guilty.

Why?

You're not eating.

I mean about mother and father.

Really? Why? What about them?

Here we are at their table...

enjoying ourselves while they're lying there...

Yeah, lying where?

On the other hand...

they would have hated tears and wailing.

They weren't exactly a conventional couple...

were they?

Maybe I'll just have one ravioli.

Certainly.

You know what they would do sometimes at dawn?

Go swimming in the bay.

Yes, I heard. In the bay and in the nude.

Then they'd lie on a rock...

basking in the sun like two baby seals.

Baby seal...

That gray-haired, self-righteous son of a... bitch.

You keep calling him that.

I have nothing against sex... premarital, extramarital.

You name it, and I'm for it.

Just because a man's married, that doesn't...

mean that he can't have a...

thing, you know, with a secretary...

or with an airline stewardess.

Let's say that you're at a convention in Hawaii...

and you meet some chick.

OK, swell. You swing for a couple of nights...

but then aloha.

I see. You can swing with ten chicks a year. That's OK.

But if you're in love with the same woman for ten years...

that makes you a son of a bitch.

Love is for filing clerks...

but not for the head of a conglomerate.

Thirty-seven companies the man had.

Can I have a couple of those green noodles?

For color?

That's Italian for my mother's name.

Figures.

Your father used to call her Kate...

and she called him Willie.

What do you know?

Sorry you never met her.

She was a bloody marvelous woman.

Yes, I'm sure she was. Look, Miss Piggott...

I appreciate how you feel about your mother.

If you want to bury her in Ischia, why not?

But when it comes to Willie... when it comes to my father...

Basically, it's a question of weather.

In England, people should be buried indoors.

How's the weather in Baltimore?

Not very good, really.

There you are.

Here you have the sun twelve months a year.

There's no need to lie in a damp grave.

It gets so cold and... so lonely.

Do you mind if we speak English?

Why English?

I do not want anybody to hear this.

It is confidential.

Who are you?

Let us say I am...

from the lost-and-found department.

From where?

Tell me, Mr. Armbruster... is he perhaps, by any chance...

missing something?

Or should I say two somethings from the morgue?

I hate to break the spell...

but before you've lost yourself completely...

could I ask you just for one moment to be reasonable?

I'll try.

Just think.

Come Tuesday, there will be 216,000 people...

watching that funeral in Baltimore.

What will it look like if there's no corpse?

That would look bad.

It would be a catastrophe.

Hello.

Mr. Carlucci's trying to catch your eye.

You don't know the people in Baltimore.

What was a beautiful romance...

they'd twist into something ugly and sordid.

We can't let that happen.

I'm glad you're beginning to see things my way.

But why should there be no corpse?

No reason, if you'll just cooperate.

But what can I do?

Excuse me.

What's so important?

I was finally getting somewhere.

You're wasting your time. She didn't take the bodies.

What?

I kept telling you.

But there is a man in the lobby. He knows where they are.

He assured me they are in excellent condition...

and he wants to know if you're interested...

in getting them back.

- Who is he? - He won't say.

He won't? He won't?

You must not antagonize him, or the price will go up.

What price?

I don't know yet, but I'm sure there is a price.

All right, you creep, where are they?

It's going to be more expensive.

If you'd care to come with me... my car is outside.

This is where the accident happened.

We were all asleep in the house...

when there was this terrible noise.

So we ran to bottom of vineyard...

and the car, it was smashed.

And the two, they are dead.

And she is holding him like this.

And the radio, it's playing "Hello, Dolly."

I think that's very touching.

It sure is.

This way, please.

This is Alberto Trotta.

This is Papa Trotta.

And Uncle Trotta.

This is Grandpapa Trotta.

And I am Armando Trotta.

That's a lot of Trottas.

You bet your sweet patootie.

Arnoldo and I...

we used to work with American armed forces.

Black market.

What's your racket now? Body-snatching?

We sit down and write you nice business letter...

asking for damages, and the Signore Carlucci...

he calls on telephone and tells me to "screw."

I did not say screw. I said sue.

Sue? You take bodies out of country...

we take case to court.

It takes many years, and in the end...

all the money, it goes to lawyers.

So you just stole them?

Stole? That is such an ugly word.

Let us say we are keeping them temporarily in... escrow?

Where?

They are very comfortable...

with candles all around and a baby-sitter.

And you will get them back as good as new...

for 2 million lira.

2 mil... They think I'm some kind of a sucker.

2 million lira for a piece of broken wall...

and some crushed grapes?

That's nothing.

But when there has been death in vineyard...

the wine turns sour.

- Who says so? - Is old Italian proverb.

I never heard of it.

All right, all right.

Let us ask some old Italians.

Don't believe a word they say.

Neapolitans, you know. Let me deal with them.

Neapolitans? That's bush-league.

I've bargained with the teamsters union.

Watch me handle this.

Hey, you. Big Trotta.

There you are.

They know the proverb.

The hell with that. I'm a very busy man.

I don't want any haggling or dickering.

Here's my offer, fast, firm, nonnegotiable.

A million lira.

Our family, it is big.

Our vineyard, it is small. It cannot support us.

Three of our brothers, they work in Carrara...

digging for marble...

With all the dust in the lungs.

All right, a million and a half.

Two of our sisters are prostitutes in Milano.

Other prostitutes...

they use Ferraris and Alfa Romeos...

but our sisters, they have to work on bicycles.

OK, 2 million lira, but not one cent more.

I could not have handled it better myself.

And now we'll have some wine and some goat cheese...

and play bocce, yes?

All right, here you are.

$3,500?

That's 2 million lira, isn't it?

We cannot take this from you.

Why not?

You are such a good man, so simpatico.

We do not want this.

What do you mean, you don't want it? Come on.

We want it, but not in dollars.

We take Swiss francs, we take German marks...

we take Japanese yens...

but with your economy sick like a dog, no dollars.

To repeat... at noon, we meet behind the morgue.

You will bring the German marks.

We will bring bodies.

We will also bring fresh flowers... no charge.

Do you realize I've gone forty hours without sleep?

I'm gonna hit the sack and just flake out.

- I envy you. - When do you sleep?

In the winter.

Your crepes suzette. I've kept them warm.

Good morning.

I hope you're not angry with me.

Angry with you?

I ordered some champagne for the gentlemen.

Why not?

I'm sorry I suddenly disappeared like that.

It was a minor crisis.

As long as you're not too late.

Yes, I had to straighten something out.

The curve in the road where the accident happened...

You don't happen to have a shoehorn, do you?

- What? - Never mind.

I've been thinking about that funeral in Baltimore.

Where's it going to be?

First Presbyterian Church. Why?

Because I want to send a wreath.

A wreath?

With some ribbons and something printed on it in gold.

Like what?

I thought you might have some suggestions.

- No. - What, no suggestions?

No wreath.

How about a simple, "Ciao, Willie"?

Nobody would ever know.

The family has specifically requested...

Why don't you just give a small contribution...

to your favorite charity?

Shall I serve the crepes suzette?

Not now.

If we don't hurry, we'll miss it.

- What? Miss what? - The sunrise.

I don't know why I'm bothering with these.

I'll just have to take them off anyway.

What was that with the sunrise?

Over Mount Vesuvius and swimming out to the rock.

You mean, you and me...

Wasn't that the whole idea?

Fat chance!

I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way.

It's nothing personal, you understand.

Could you help me with my zip, please?

Certainly.