All language subtitles for Mimi_metallurgico_track4_[eng]

THE SEDUCTION OF MIMI

Workers! Workers!

Cannamozza is your candidate!

Workers!

Do you know who Carmine Cannamozza is?

A son of a bitch.

Anyone lacking respect
for Mr. Carmine Cannamozza

shows a lack of respect for Don Calogero.

Remember that tomorrow when you go to vote.

Cannamozza's bunch
were campaigning at the pit.

Hang on and we'll discuss it outside.

Mimi!

I found a butt.
Can I smoke it?

You'll blow us sky-high in this sulfur.

- I'll take it.
- No.

Don't you trust your own brother?

All right.

This one's yours,

and this one's mine.

We'll smoke them together.

I'll teach you all you need.

- Well, Mimi?
- Forget it.

I don't want to vote for him,

but I don't want trouble.

That's what they do.
They scare you into submission.

Vote how you like.
What's there to lose?

My job.

At the pit?
With the wage they give you?

Call that a good job?

- No.
-So?

You're right.

Screw it.

You're a stupid, ignorant, arrogant animal.

Secret ballot, here?

They know everything
down to the hairs on our butts.

My son, they were promised six votes.
Six votes is what they get.

Your father's right.
He's a man of honor. He keeps his word.

Want him dead in a ditch,

his guts in his hands,
his ears round his neck?

- Judas!
- It's the temperature you like.

You burnt me, you ugly old moron.
Damn you!

But what's all this spring cleaning anyway?

Do you need clean feet to vote these days?

Who did you say we vote for?

Idiot.

Don Calogero's been telling us
for three months.

Cannamozza's his man.

- So he has to be our man too?
- Sure.

I don't want to vote for Cannamozza.

- Why?
- Can't stand him.

You're not marrying him.
Shut up and vote.

No.

Nice, eh?

- Say you like it.
- Quiet. They'll hear.

Who, for God's sake?

They're out cold.

Rosalia, you're a wife.

You've got to do your bit.
Say something.

- Say what?
- Whatever you like.

That same scared expression.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

You put a man off.

Where's this kid of ours?
It's all your fault.

- You should see yourself.
- Don't look, then.

Want me to make love to the pillow?

It's like it's a chore for you.

Do something. Talk.
What sort of a woman are you?

I'm embarrassed.

That's right.
Turn on the waterworks.

Get stuffed, then.

And you're not to vote for Cannamozza.

Don't let Don Calogero's bunch frighten you.

They're there just to scare us.

It's a secret ballot.

Vote for the Left.
No one will know.

Secret?

Top secret.

Carmelo Mardocheo.

My respects.

This is to inform you

that there's no point going down to the pit

since there's no work there for you,
and never will be.

It's finished between you and us.

Why?

I know why,

you know why,

and God knows why.

Didn't you say it was a top secret ballot?

Well, obviously it wasn't.

No work for me.
There's no work around.

And his mother's a stinking whore!

Mimi, what's up?

I won't even get hired
to clean stables, that's what.

I'm a marked man.

There's no work for me,
and there never will be.

I'm going to Turin.

- Ignore them.
- Bunch of half-wits.

I'll get you a job on a site.

They won't take me.
So, too bad! I'm off.

In Turin they pay workers.
They treat them right too.

They're free and respected.

But you're letting them win.
Stay here and fight.

No way! I'm off to Turin.

There's no Mafia there.
Not one of the bastards.

Let's get one thing straight.

Anyone in a political party
or a trade union?

- No, sir.
- Good.

Because if you're after sick pay, award wages,

I can't help.

I can only help men who need work
without shit-stirring.

So, you start at 6:00 tomorrow morning.

You'll get double what you get in Sicily
for a day's threshing.

500 lire an hour.
Cash in hand.

And if you haven't got a bed,
there's one at the Trinacria boardinghouse.

200 lire a bed.

Here at the Sicilian Brotherhood Association,

we're all friends and brothers.

But you do as we say
and keep your mouths shut.

Keep your mouths shut, right?

Because I'm doing you a favor.

And if anyone should
treat me discourteously,

I would be very upset.

Got it?

- Take them away.
- Come on.

Let's go.

Start taking their names.

Move along there.

Listen, comrade.
In Turin, you wear a newspaper hat.

Relieving yourself?

Think we pay you to piss?

Piss on your lunch break.
Move it, boys.

- We can't even piss —
- Ignore him.

- The bastard.
- I'd like a piss myself.

On his head.

A fall!

What the hell is it?

Nicola!

- Is he hurt?
- He looks dead to me.

Damn it to hell.

Give him a hand.

That's it, boys.
Work's over. Back to town.

Come on. Move!

All those from the boardinghouse, out!

Come on!

Let's move!

Don't bother rushing to the hospital.
I'd say he's dead.

- Who brought him?
- What the — What are you doing in there?

I was in here when you drove off.

What the hell's he doing in there?

Come on.
Get him out of there.

- What are you doing?
- Just do your job and shut it.

He was working illegally, like you.

Is it our fault he fell off the scaffold?

Bring him out.
We don't even know his name.

I do. Nicola Sperero.
And who'll feed his family?

Do you take us for a charity?

Bring him out.
No one's coming.

No, you don't.
There's his family to think of —

You're done for.

Get rid of that stiff.

Watch out!

Stop him!

He'd better not go back
to the hotel tonight.

Grab the little bastard!
He's not to get away.

Watch it.
I'm not like Nicola.

If anything happens to me —

- Where do you want him?
- Il fix him.

Okay, you filthy little runt.

So what are these threats?

Did you tell the union?

No, I wrote to my wife,
registered, express, and all...

with your names, everything.

Did you now?

He wrote to his old lady.

That wasn't very sensible, son.

Your threats go in one ear and out...

I won't say where.

With all this traffic, road accidents...

a lot of things can happen these days.

Seeing you wrote to the wife,
I'll remember to send her a wreath.

Take him away.

Careful.

My wife is Calogero Liggio's godchild.

If I come to any harm, she'll tell his boys
to look for Salvatore Tricarico.

Liggio from Corleone?

His cousin.

Let him go.

Tell me something.

What's a relative of the Liggio family doing

coming up to Turin like this?

I didn't want to put anyone out.

But now, under the circumstances...

Very well, then. I'll believe you.

But you could've said who sent you.

Salvatore Tricarico
always respects the Liggio family.

Unfortunately, I wasn't acquainted with you.

So I kept my distance.

I'd have helped out
with whatever you required.

Well, if it's not too late,

I could use a nice job with Pirelli or Fiat.

With Pirelli or Fiat.

And I took him for a half-wit.

All right, despite your idiotic behavior,

I'll believe you.

I'll trust you.

All right. You'll get your job.

You have Salvatore Tricarico's word.

But if you're putting me on,

you'll be in shit up to your neck, boy.

“Dear wife, this letter is to tell you
I've had a factory job for a month now.

And I'm no longer Carmelo Mardocheo.
I'm Carmelo the Metalworker now.

A whole new ball game.

It's legal, with sick pay, benefits.
Too good to be true.

At first, I did feel
a bit lost in all this hubbub.

Then I realized everyone here
Is from down our way

and more lost than / am.

Believe it or not,
it took a week to meet a real local.

They're good people too,

and my new friends here
have taught me a lot

about work and politics.”

Politics isn't something you put in a box.

Politics is everyday life, everything you do.

Buying a pair of underpants is politics.

You're making a choice.

If it's right, you help everyone.

If it's wrong,
you help the bosses screw us.

Got it?

“I can see my father's face,

but it's better to hear it
from me than someone else.

I've joined the trade union.
And the Communists too.”

I knew it!

He's got in with those bandits.

He'll land in jail.
Communist! Turd, more likely.

I have no idea what's going on.

Who's this trade union?

Subversion, that's what.

- Right, Cicciuzzo?
- Right. He'll land in jail!

- Let me see.
- Leave me alone!

Shut up, all of you.
Let me read it.

“Dear wife...

As for your idea of coming to join me,

I have to say no.

Lodging's expensive here,
especially for us Southerners.

These sons of bitches consider us animals.

I've got a furnished room.
It's a sad life.

No place for a wife.”

Hey, Latin lover!

Ready for the orgy?
Move it.

“Love and kisses,
your husband, Carmelo.”

They pick you up at the station

and put you all to live in the same room,
like pigs in a sty.

They pay you a pittance
because you're desperate.

If you have an accident,

they dump you like a dog.

I witnessed it.

This sort of thing must stop.

25,000 construction workers
don't have any protection.

We must put a stop to it.
No more day labor.

We must expose the exploiters,

but to do that, we need names.

And the poor workers
are too scared to name names.

Fear's a drug.

You don't see what's there,
you see what's not there.

Just a moment.

Quiet!

Quiet!

Carmelo Mardocheo is one of us.

And he wouldn't be too scared.

This Sicilian Brotherhood Association...

Who's the head of it?

Who's behind it all?

His name.

His name's —

I'm afraid I don't know.

The skunk never gave any particulars.

Otherwise —

I'm sorry.

I can't tell you anything.

Oh, dear Lord.

- It's nothing. I'm fine.
- Can you imagine such a thing?

Those sons of bitches.

One even had brass knuckles.

They really scared me, you know.
The cowards.

Want some? I'm starving.

They beat us up last week too.

We called the cops, but no go.

They ran off. No one ever showed.

Cops try and avoid trouble.

Besides, I think they're glad
to see us beaten up.

What a nerve!

Know what one of them said
to Violetta's face?

He said, “Don't sell political papers, sweetheart.
Sell chestnuts. Stay out of trouble.”

Can you believe that?

My name's Fiore. What's yours?

Mardocheo, Carmelo.

What sort of name's that?

It's after Our Lady of Carmelo,

but my friends call me Mimi.

They call you Mimi?
Then your name should be Lucy.

- What's so funny?
- Nothing.

What a face!

Are you offended?

Typical Southerner.

I'm not offended.

But don't call me that, Miss.

All right, all right.

But aren't you one of us?
A comrade?

What's this “Miss” business?

Good breeding.

But if you'll allow me, Fiore...

- Are you a comrade?
- Sure thing.

But I have my opinions.
I was a Trotskyite.

Sorry?

A Trotskyite. Left of the Left.

There's nothing left of the Left.

The true Left is
the 8 million workers of the PCI.

Bless you!

You sound like you have a cold.

The way you said “PCI” sounded like a sneeze.

Anyway, I'm nothing just now.
I have no party.

I'm waiting,
waiting for something to happen.

With one group into bombs,
another into banning work,

we're all on the Left,

but we squabble
among ourselves like enemies.

I guess I'm a simple girl like my grandma.

She was a peasant.

But I've got to make up my own mind, see?

Man mustn't exploit man.

That's the core.
As for the rest, I'm just waiting.

We've won a few things
off the bosses in 100 years.

I don't believe Russia
will end up like America

with everyone stifled by industry,
machines, like here.

I don't believe it. What about you?

Me?
Well, to be honest...

I wouldn't know.

So I said, “I'm not staying here, Mom.

I'm not ending up like you.

I'll take what little I've got
and split to Milan to live my life.”

- Did you live it?
- Sure thing! Zilch.

I ended up as a salesgirl.

I'm hopeless.

Anyway, it didn't last.
Just listen to this.

This asshole of a supervisor calls me in
and sees Mao's book in my bag.

The red one.

He grabs it, closes the door,

and whacks me on the butt,
the dirty lecher.

Then the slimy bastard says,

“Put out for me, baby, or get out.
No anarchists allowed here.”

No way.
I brained him and scrammed.

What a beautiful place.

It could be Hyde Park.

The perfect place for a crime.

A place for —
What are they called?

Sex fiends.

What's up with you?
You're giving me the creeps.

You look like you've got
a belly ache. Have you?

Must've been that cold beer.

- It's your fault.
- Mine?

Why?

I'm sorry.

I'm really sorry.

Please, may I, comrade —

Would you let me kiss you?

Please. Would you?

Please, would I? Well —

Please.

Would you?

Mongrel!

What a heel!
Comes on all gentlemanly!

What trash!
These Southerners come here and assault you.

That's all I needed.

How dare you! I'll kill you.

First, it's “Please, would you? A kiss?”

Then it's sexual assault.
Go to hell!

It wasn't assault.

It was passion.

I'm sorry, Fiore.

I was overcome.

I simply gave in to sensual temptation.

Assault?
For Heaven's sake. Me?

In all modesty,
I usually go down well with women.

But it's different with you.

Because you attract me
like no one ever has.

You can't turn me down.
You can't say no now.

Well, I'm telling you not now!
What do you take me for?

- You're turning me down?
- Yeah.

Why?

Did someone say something about me?

What?

Who do you think knows you anyway?

Tell me.

Did some evil gossip tell you...

- that I'm a married man?
- Sure!

Everyone I see in the street tells me.

Listen, Sicily...

I couldn't give a fig if you're married.

You think a Holy Sacrament would stop
someone like me? I'm against it, anyway.

Free or married, it's all the same to me.

It's for another reason.
I believe in love.

- It's a serious matter.
- Am I laughing?

I couldn't be more serious.

I fell in love with you
the moment I saw you.

Did you? I didn't.

Fiore, wait.

I never even believed in love before.

I thought it was women's foolishness.

Exaggerated sentimental stuff.

But now I'm really suffering.

Poor you! I'm fine.

Why turn me down?

I thought you liked me.

So? I'm not in love, thanks.

But I'm suffering.
What does it cost you?

I'm suffering. Please, as a favor.

Are you crazy?

As if I would.
These things aren't done as favors.

Anyway, I'm a virgin.

Virgin?

- You mean, like a Virgo?
- No, sweetheart. A virgin.

And don't look like that.

Another disbeliever, eh?

Avirgin.
I'm delighted, but —

Didn't you say you were
a comrade and a Tro —

- What?
- How the hell do you say it?

Trotskyite, not trollop.

I'd never have said that.

It's just that, up here,
everything's so confused.

Nothing makes sense.

What do you take me for?

I keep having to explain to everybody.

And I'm sick of explaining, anyway.

They don't believe me.

Or else they want proof.
Sure! They drive me bats.

Or else I'm mad, or frigid...

Well, I have my own ideas.

I don't believe in marriage, but love, yes.

I'll make love only with the man I love,
even if I take 50 years to find him.

Otherwise, it's filth.

So, you and me... nothing doing.
Forget me.

Now, you have a bike?
Great! Pedal out of here.

In fact, go to hell! Southerner!

You go to hell!

Stupid bitch!

This insane love means
I no longer respect anything.

If I'm to be a man,
I must put an end to it,

even if I don't know
what that will do to me.

I don't know what's going to happen now.

But you don't owe me a thing, Fiore.

Sorry, I can't look at you.

I'm sure you're right.

What you say's true.

A woman should only give herself to a man...

Only if she cares for him.

But you don't care for me.

I know because when I see your eyes

that see nothing,
or something else, but not me...

I think of you dreaming at night,
but not of me.

You can't love me, Fiore,

because if you did...

you wouldn't hurt me so much.

But unfortunately, you don't love me.

And all this love I have for you,

great, desperate, useless as it is,

is only my love, and not yours.

So I'm leaving, Fiore.

You'll never hear my name again.

No, don't. I love you too.

You did it.

Slow and steady wins the race.

I don't quite understand.

What did you just say?

Come on, for God's sake.

- Holy Mother.
- You heard.

I said I love you.

Fiore, if you're joking,
you're being very cruel.

Who's joking?

You've got me now.

I'm really in love.

And I feel for you
the way you do for me.

That's why I sent
my dumb roommate away.

Because from now on...

this can be your home.

Just a moment.

Careful, because to me...

this is something big.

Something important.

Because I...

You see...

You and me...

It's all or nothing and good-bye.

Listen.

Let's get one thing straight.

If you so much as touch another woman,

even your wife,

you won't see me again.

Because, while love lasts,

I want it to be perfect.

Otherwise, I'd prefer nothing.

Now, swear.

Of course. I swear.

Of course, I swear it.

Well?

What are you waiting for?

It can't be happening.

My poor darling.

Sweetness.

Carmelotto.

Cuddle-pie.

Fioruzzo.

When I calm down,

I'm going to smother you.

Smother you with love.

Come on.

Come here.

Cheer up.

What does it matter?

- Aren't you happy?
- Yes. I'll kill myself.

But why, silly?

Because if I can't manage
to make love with you,

I may as well kill myself.

You aressilly, darling.

Come here.

Here.

Isn't it lovely here?

Can you hear the rain?

And here we are together.

You and me, alone.

Don't be sad.

Come on.

You know I've never been like this.

Like this.

All naked in a man's arms.

I feel wonderful.

I didn't know it was like this.

So sweet.

I love it.

What more could there be?

“Dear husband,

this is to say that your father
won't buy me a ticket to Turin,

so I'm looking for work to pay for it myself.

So I'm no longer Rosalia.
I'm Rosalia Mardocheo, Factory Worker, now.

‘A whole new ball game,' as you say.

Conveyor-belt express laundress.

All female staff, so put your mind at rest

I also started smoking,

ana, after taking all moral
and physical precautions,

I learned to ride a motorcycle

and am now an expert driver.

With your consent,
I might buy one on credit.

I won't tell you what your father says.”

If anyone sees you,
I'll disown you. Whore!

What's that on your head?

Carmelotto!

Carmelotto?
Have some respect.

You've got to learn to show more respect.

I can't work you out.

You have lovely curls.
Why straighten them?

Don't you like it?

You look like Gus, Donald Duck's cousin.

Yes. I am Gus, Donald Duck's cousin.

You're a woman.
Male fashion is not your concern.

You were born to knit,

to make these Harlequin suits
you make me wear.

And you were born to make love.

Not with that net on.

Don't I look like Valentino?

It's 10:00. I don't want to miss
the construction workers' march.

Why don't you want to miss it?

You can't leave
those poor comrades in the lurch.

They say there'll be 30,000.

Imagine 30,000 in the square.

I'm a metalworker.
I march with the metalworkers.

Well, I'm off.

Off, my ass.

You're a metalworker's woman.

Your solidarity's with me, not them.

You don't even know them.

Those construction workers.
Big deal.

30,000 ruffians,
Sicilians and Calabrians.

They won't be marching.

They'll be taking advantage
of the confusion to feel up women.

Come off it.

You can't be jealous
of 30,000 construction workers!

That's not the point.

I'm against the march for political reasons.

Sure. Come on.

Tell it the way it is.

You're ashamed to admit
you're eaten with jealousy.

I can't help it.

Imagining them looking
at your backside sends me wild.

Communists shouldn't be jealous.

What would that lead to?

I can hardly go out with a veil, like a Turk.

Why not?
What have you got against the Turks?

Everyone's always picking on them.

Yet those Turks
have a head on their shoulders.

No wonder they conquered the world.

With their wives veiled and locked away,

they could fight without worrying.

You're crazy,
and I am head over heels.

Okay, Mr. Sheikh, here's your harem,
and I'm your sultana.

Sultana!
Fiore's being a sultana.

Go on, be a sultana.
You're lovely. Really you are.

In all those colors,
you look like a butterfly.

A sexy butterfly.

Where shall I grab you?

Got you!

The phone's ringing.

Hello. Who's speaking?
This is Carmelo Mardocheo.

You're tickling. Who's this?

Catania?

Rosalia?

Screw you and the TV.

- What?
- 1 don't care!

Don't think I'll let you go to your wife
just because you turn up with a TV.

Asshole!

But it's been a year since I've been home.
And it's only for three days.

- And three nights.
- Two in the train.

And one in a woman's bed.

- My wife's.
- She's still a woman.

She's not a woman to me.
She's like an aunt.

Take this, you and your damn aunt!

You're not going anywhere,

so get that clear,
you dirty rotten Southerner.

Until you give up the idea,
no food, no drink, no sleep.

Just sex. That'll teach you.

I'll smother you. You wait.

I'll wear you to shreds.

You'll never ask for it again.

Catania, my foot!

We're going to make love till you drop.

You make me mad!

Imagine your wife's face if she saw me.

Poor thing.

I'm about to have your child,

and your own wife never even had one.

That doesn't mean anything.
This was love.

Children come when there's love.

Tell that to all those young girls who have kids
and get dumped by some fly-by-night student.

Children come whenever.

What's going on out there?

Nothing.
Just another protest march.

Out there in this snow.

You never talk about the comrades anymore.

How's the fight?

A little kick.
I just felt it kick.

Little teeny, weeny one.

Sleep, sleep like a tweety bird in a nest.

Sleep, little Mimi.
Sleep all warm in there.

Your daddy will buy you everything you need.

I'll buy you a milk-shake maker,

and I'll buy you a tricycle.

It's in the consumer society
before it's even born.

What next?

You'll have it driving before it can even walk.

My son will never want for anything.

He'll have everything I never had.

My son will be a king.

Congratulations!

Here, champagne. French and all.

I'll get another bottle.

- No expense spared today.
- Have a sip!

There he is!
He's getting away!

Open up! Open the door!

Don't shoot. I know nothing.

Please. Please, don't shoot!

I was just passing by.
I don't know anything!

Please, be merciful.

- Don't shoot.
- Carmelo Mardocheo.

I'm sorry.

Carmelotto.

Oh, Holy Virgin.

Mimi, my baby.

What happened?

He's come to.
You were lucky, son.

A little scratch, that's all.

It just grazed him.
Don't worry, madam.

- Lift him up.
- It's nothing. Come on.

Get him a brandy.

Listen, son...

just a few informal questions.

We thought you'd had it too.

Good evening, sir.

We've got an eyewitness this time.
A survivor.

Son.

Tell us what happened.

You saw the killer's face, of course?

I know nothing.

I can't help you.
I didn't see anything.

- I came in and fainted.
- Describe him at least.

I'm sorry. I can't help.
I know nothing.

I don't feel well.

Hey, Mardocheo.

Haven't seen you at union meetings lately.

He's out to get ahead.

He's on the other side now.

- Where?
- The bosses' side.

Sure, I work,

and I want to do better.

- I have my son to think of.
- We all have children, damn it.

Some of us give a shit.
Some don't. That's all.

Enjoy your work!

You'll finish up here on the 25th.

Your request for a transfer was accepted.

You're a foreman at the new Catania plant.

I didn't request any transfer.

Isn't this your signature?

It's impossible.

I never signed anything.

I swear, on my son's head.

Listen, son.

Forget this story about the fake signature.

If you no longer wish to transfer to Catania
for personal reasons, that's up to you.

But you're off the books here.

- We've already replaced you.
- Right.

As far as we're concerned,
you're in Catania already.

- It's lovely, your city.
- Close that. You're crazy.

Want everyone to see you?

Aren't you going a little too far, darling?

You don't realize.

If my wretched wife see us,
she'll shoot on sight.

Cover yourself.

Even the walls have eyes and ears here,

especially in delicate matters.

- Who can that be?
- No idea.

- Who's there?
- Is Mr. Mardocheo there?

Say I'm not here.
No one's to know. Say I'm not here.

- No, he's not. Who's there?
- That's not important.

Tell him the managing director
wants to see him.

My cousin, Salvatore Tricarico,

told me to look after you.

We don't forget our friends.

So he had me transferred?

What's he got against me?

- Wasn't shooting me enough?
- It was a mistake.

I apologize for him.

He didn't know how far he could rely on you.

But you've behaved like one of us to the end.

So you were transferred.

You'll get ahead now, here at the refinery.

The right person knows you're our man.

That's precisely what I don't want.

I don't want anything to do with you lot.

I'm not like that.

I'm for decent people, workers.

For your information,

I've always worked.

Do you think this was built with hot air?

It represents struggle, blood,
and jobs for a lot of poor people.

Please don't talk to me about poor people.

You've always exploited those poor wretches.

How else did you create all this luxury?

Burning the orange groves
to build this monstrosity,

where you pay a 900,000 lire deposit
for two rooms and a kitchen.

As if no one knows
how elections are run down here.

It's people like you who pander to the bosses.

You're their lackeys.

The ones you call bosses are our lackeys.

Ever thought of that?

Fool!

The bosses' lackeys!

Don't put on airs.
I know the stuff you're made of.

You dared to blackmail Salvatore Tricarico,

but you didn't name him
to the union or the police.

Why?

Because deep down inside,

you know perfectly well
you can trust us, but not the police.

So you're on our side, not theirs.

Remember that.

Drop your left-wing ideas.

Communist dreams aren't for you,

nor for any of our people.

We need bosses here.

- There are things to organize.
- What? A coup?

There's no need for that.

A person with know-how could have things
under control in a flash.

All that's needed are a few professionals.

Spread word of purse-snatchings,
robberies, kidnappings,

pin a few bombs on the anarchists,

slander those interfering politicians
up in Rome,

and you're set.

Hordes of people are clamoring
for protection and order.

- And we give it to them.
- Fine methods you have.

It's politics.

I told you, the place needs bosses.

And when the time comes,
we'll need young people, ones we can trust...

like you.

No, thanks.
Don't count on me.

Rule me out. My respects.

This isn't an order, son...

I've got a touch of sciatica,
and I can't bend down.

I've dropped 100 lire.

Would you mind picking it up for me?

I'm asking you a favor.

Good.

We'd like to say hi to Mardocheo.

- Not allowed.
- What? Can't we —

Move it!

What are you playing at?
The lazy Southerners?

- Is this the army or something?
- Watch it!

Watch your tongue.
Sergeants give me the shits.

Little Mimi's asleep.

Where do you want Lenin, darling?

Here, above the bed?

Look at the way he's looking at me,

as if he's always criticizing.

He shatters my nerves.

Put him out of sight. That's all I ask.

All right.

Sicily certainly is a beautiful place.

And the people are so lovely.

The children look like olives,

with those big, black eyes.

Poor little things.

There's so much poverty.

If they didn't have people like you to help,

people who've traveled,

who've seen other things up North
and broadened their minds,

these poor things couldn't defend themselves.

Darling, you have to go home.

Come on.

Holy Cross of God!

No, Rosalia.

Don't you feel well?

Fatigue. I'm sorry.

- I'll get you the vinegar.
- Quiet. They'll hear.

I don't want them to know.
The poor things would worry.

I haven't felt well in a long while.

I'm sorry for your sake.

I don't have the strength
to do my marital duty.

I feel... all incapacitated.

I don't care.

But swear one thing.

That you weren't unfaithful to me in Turin.

Me? I never even thought of another woman.

In Turin, it was all men together.

Like the army.

Your husband looks fine.
You can't tell.

- Tell what?
- Nothing. Just thinking.

Don't think.

Does he still have fatigue?

I'm afraid so.
Permanent incapacity.

Poor you, with a husband that way.

Yes, it's quite a story.

- Did you participate in the Hot Autumn?
- More or less.

You must talk to the comrades.
Broaden our minds.

- So we won't even say hello?
- We should at least go up there.

I'm not coming.
Sex is a delicate matter.

It may be spiteful, but gossip breeds fast.

- Come on.
- Not now. On my first free Sunday.

All right, but don't disappear again.
we'll be waiting, metalworker.

- Nothing?
- It's nothing. Stupid things.

- Stupid things?
- I don't want to talk about it here.

- These things should be discussed in private.
- I've got a spare five minutes.

Stinking half-witted chicken thief!

I would never have believed it!

You took me for a fag?
A fairy?

Me, a queer? Assholes!

- I swear I never believed it.
- Shut up!

Quiet. Not another word!

This insult should be paid for with buckshot.

But I'm a civilized man,

not a peasant like you lot.

Get in the car.

Get in the car! On the double.

- What are you up to?
- Quiet!

Getin.

Come on. Move it!

It's all Rosalia's fault!

- Is anyone following?
- No. Don't worry.

Forget what you're about to see...

or it may cost someone his life.

- Whose?
- Who knows?

Just remember, this is...

an extremely delicate matter.

We mustn't look conspicuous.

we'll split up in pairs.

Quiet.

It's your fault I didn't do it.

- Ours?
- Yes, sir.

Your backward mentality.

That poor Rosalia is a good woman.

How could I abandon her,

knowing what you lot
think of divorced women?

Would you marry a divorced woman?

Not a Sicilian.

But a rich American...

I'd consider it.

Now Mimi's a real man.

Metalworker, automobile,
wife, child and mistress.

Perfection.

- See you, Pasquale.
- Bye.

Pasquale, listen.
There's been a catastrophe.

We've got to talk to you.
Just for five minutes.

It's confidential.

Highly confidential!

So, what's this all about?

- It's a delicate matter.
- Highly delicate.

What?

Mimi, you've traveled, seen the world.

How should I put it?
Sown your wild oats.

Which oats in particular?

He means you've ignored
certain moral obligations.

- What are you referring to?
- To Rosalia, your wife.

- What have I done?
- You left her here, all alone.

Even now that you're back,
you're always busy.

She's always alone.

So she feels lonely?
Does she want company?

No, it's just that —
It isn't that —

Spit it out.

Did someone tell her something about me?

- No, you see, your wife —
- Poor thing.

-..felt neglected.
- Unhappy.

- Does he need prompting?
- Shut up, Pasquale.

She felt neglected.
You know, with no kids.

So? Is it my fault there aren't any?

No, but with your fatigue —

Basically, she isn't happy.

I'm sorry.

I'm fond of Rosalia.

She's been a good wife, a good worker,

and, for a Sicilian,
she's pretty emancipated.

But there are certain things —

I don't want to get into
the details of our married life,

but she's just not made for certain things.

She's —

Well, she's the quiet type.

And now she feels lonely.

What can I do about it?

Spell it out, would you?

What is it she wants?

A child?

Not at all.

She's already expecting.

- Three months pregnant.
- A disaster.

Now you know. You're intelligent,
a metalworker, Communist.

You have your faults too.
So forget the vengeance stuff.

It's time to sort things out.

Divorce, no divorce, but be amicable.

With mutual respect.
It's better for you too.

Show everyone how to be civilized,
with no fuss.

- Who was it?
- It was at driving school.

He fell in love.
She resisted him.

You had fatigue.
He insisted. She gave in.

It was only one night, but —

Whore!

Destroy the honor of my family, whore!

A Communist would never do this.

Screw your Communism!
I'm a cuckold.

What am I doing on foot?

Ill kill her!

Rotten bitch.

Whore!

Stop, Mimi!

But why?

Bitch!

You've dragged my family name in the mud.

And my mother's name too.

- Are you going to kill me?
- Yes, indeed.

This insult must be wiped out.

Wiped out, I say.

Take it off!

It's true. I disgraced you.

I must pay for it.

You're right.

Don't say I'm right, damn you!

Don't say I'm right.

A woman, and a slut to boot.

Don't tell me I'm right, do you hear?

Otherwise I won't be able
to do anything to you.

Wicked, filthy adulteress.

I have to kill you.

Can I live without honor?

Can I live as a cuckold?

All right, filth, confess!

What happened?

Before you die, confess.
I want the whole story.

I went for my license.

- Whore's license?
- No, driving license.

He was there, in uniform.

He's a sergeant.
Amilcare Finocchiaro.

He kept offering me honey bonbons.

- That was it.
_ “It”?

A few bonbons and you lift your skirts?

How dare you? He fell in love.

Head over heels.

He wept, sang to me.

I resisted, but the more I did,
the more he sang.

Then there was that shoot-out,
when the councilman got shot.

Remember, the one
they found buried in cement?

Who gives a damn?

- Where did it happen?
- In the cabin of a crane.

The cabin of a crane?

He was guarding a site.
It was raining.

We sheltered in the crane.

My missus got herself knocked up on a crane?

Ii kill him.

Don't! Innocent lives are involved.

He's married too?

- With kids, I suppose.
- Five.

Great.

Rosalia, what a betrayal.

I despair of you.

A sergeant, with five kids,

on a crane, with a name like Amilcare.

He was so nice,
especially about your problem.

- What problem?
- Your illness.

You know, your incapacity.

Incapac —

You told him about that too!

That too?

He'd heard.

I denied it so you wouldn't look bad.

He took me to the pictures
to see Bell'Antonijo.

I admitted it.

So, I'm not only a cuckold.

Now you make me out to be a fag!

For some dickhead in a uniform.

So he suits himself.
The husband's a fag anyway.

He suits himself, the asshole.

But I'm not a fag!

If we haven't had sex,
it's because you revolt me...

and because —
Yes, it's time it came out.

Because there's another woman,
and she's beautiful.

And we make love day and night
because we like it.

Call me a fag?

And she's had my son,
the most beautiful there is.

-You—
- Bastard!

Now she's out to kill me!

That bastard won't bear my name.

Yes, it will, to disgrace you.

Filth!

And I won't adopt yours even if you pay me.

- A bastard it'll stay.
- Bitch!

But mine will be called Mardocheo,
and you'll be a laughingstock.

It won't need a name
because I'm going to kick you to death!

Mardocheo.

Amilcare, after him,
and Mardocheo after you.

No one minds their own business here.

Someone who cares knows
you've been done a discourtesy

and sends me to be of service.

- To do what?
- That, you'll tell me whenever you decide.

Leave it all to me.

Frankly, I'm a professional.

Tell whoever sent you I don't need anything.

Come on, Peppino.

- Vito Tricarico sent him?
- Who else? Santa Claus?

He's all I need.

Mind you, Rosalia deserves it.

You saw what a bitch she is.

Taking it out on my kid.

He's still there.
He hasn't taken his eyes off us.

And Vito Tricarico —

My son, a bastard,

and that asshole sergeant's son
with my name,

while everyone laughs at me,
an out-and-out cuckold.

As I was saying,

Tricarico has the construction workers
under his thumb,

and he's getting big.

If we're not careful,
he'll soon be on the city council.

They say he's really tough.
He gets rid of people.

As if I didn't know.
I know his family.

I saw his cousin kill four people in Turin.

You were an eyewitness?

Then you told the police?

I minded my own business.

What is it you want?

Always criticizing,
telling me what to do.

Shut up!
Who do you think you are?

A nobody, that's what,

earning some pittance
with your van and Leftist ideas.

You're just a failure.

Leave me in peace. Go away.

Who do you think you are?

A poor wretch.

- Need a hand?
- Go to hell!

Get your hankie and blow your nose.

Stay on the footpath and be good.

Otherwise you'll get a hiding.

You're beautiful.
You drive me crazy.

Those fiery eyes!
When can we meet?

Shame on you, lecher,
in front of these children.

I've been watching you,
adoring you for months.

It's time to speak.
Where can we meet?

Go away or I'll scream.

But I can't bear it any longer.

I want to kiss you, caress you, touch you.

What do you take me for?
I'm a wife and mother.

People will talk.

- When can we meet?
- Never!

You won't escape me.

Who are you after?

Mrs. Finocchiaro. I'm a relative.

- Down there to the right.
- Many thanks.

- You drive me crazy.
- Holy Mother! You're crazy.

- What will people say?
- I'm burning for you.

Let go of my hand!

Let go of my hand, I said!

Go away, wretch. How dare you!

I've told you already, you inflame me.

I must talk to you.
Where? When?

Quiet. I'll be in trouble.
I'll be fired. I'm working.

I'm not budging
till you give me a time and place.

- What are you doing to me?
- Where and when?

What do you want?
This love can't be.

All right, if you leave now.

Tomorrow at 4:00, St. Nicold's.

4:00 tomorrow,
at the church of St. Nicold.

My darling.

You've been admiring me for three months?

Jesus, Joseph and Mary,
I never realized!

I do understand you.
Love is blind.

But I'm respectable.

If I spurned you, it wasn't
because of my scoundrel husband.

Do you know what he did to me?

He took the flower of my youth and virtue,
trampled it, spat on it.

I was a mere girl of 18.
He took advantage of that.

He'd been transferred to my town.

He dishonored me.
I was a hot-blooded girl.

I'm Neapolitan, see?

If my father hadn't gone after him
with a gun, he'd have abandoned me.

I was only 18 and pregnant,

and the scoundrel wouldn't marry me.

He'd dishonored me and all,

gave me five children,
one after the other.

What could a poor woman do?

I don't know why,
but I think he hates me.

Really. He's more of a scoundrel than ever.

Never a thought,
never a soft word or a gift.

But I love him.

I'm a romantic, so I understand you.

Do you really dream of me every night?

It's just infatuation.
You're young, handsome.

I'm on the plump side, a touch overweight.

But that's what attracts me.

The dreams I have.

Naked, fat, beautiful like the moon,
round and busty.

Oh, no, you don't!

Hands where they belong!
What are you doing? Violating me?

I've been straight with you.
This was to be a platonic meeting.

It was just a moment of weakness.
Forgive me, Amalia.

It won't happen again, I swear.

It's no life.

It's misery.

That's the only reason I've let myself go
today for one beautiful moment.

Here, with you, the sea, the music...

I'll dance with you,
but don't ask for more.

I just want this pure,
passionate memory, see?

Amalia.

When the record's over,
it'll be our last good-bye.

- You're killing me.
- You're killing me.

Look at me, Amalia.

- Are you thinking of me?
- Hush. Close your eyes.

Let yourself go.

No, let me go!
I'm not going in there!

Let me go!
I don't want to go in there!

Let me go!
I don't feel like it!

Let me go!

You're worse than my husband!

Scoundrel!

Go away!
You're crazy!

Not in here!
I don't want to cheat on my husband!

Let go of me!

Go away!
Why are you doing this?

Not on the bed!

Go away!

Why? Let go of me! Why?

What do you want?

Who are you?
What do you want?

- Can't you tell?
- You really want it so much?

Isn't it enough for you?

Or am I so beautiful?

More than any other.
Now, be mine, or I'll kill you.

I give in, then.

Have your way with me.

I'm not used to this.

What should I do?

Do what feels right for you.

- Say you love me.
- Yes, but shut up.

Why? I'm happy.

My darling.

You're so handsome.
You're lovely.

I love you.

I love you so much.

And how much do you love me?

Tell me you love me.

I like hearing you say it.

Do you truly love me?

Say it like that.
“I truly love you.”

Won't you say it anymore?

I don't love you.

What are you saying?

Are you crazy?

Now that I've given in.
Are you joking?

No.

But now we've reached this point,
the moment of truth has come.

I've led you on, Amalia.

No, it's not true.

Why?
Why play such a trick?

Your husband got my wife pregnant.

And I must have revenge.

It's all his fault. I'll kill him.

He's ruined my life!
It's all his fault.

Pll kill him.
Now, once and for all.

I'm going to kill him now.

If you kill him, you'll end up in jail

and the five kids in an orphanage.

Shut up, you wretch, you scoundrel.

I don't want advice from a deceiver like you.

You rotten filthy scoundrel,

insulting me like this.

Did it give you moral satisfaction?

I'm a metalworker, Amalia.

I've become civilized.

I hope you pay for this.

I know how to use my head now.

Be honest.

You want your revenge on your wife.

Do the wounded honor bit, then.
Shoot him.

- Get it over with.
- No!

Carmelo Mardocheo, metalworker, won't shoot.

We're discussing a slowdown.

What does your gang say?

No strikes.

- What?
- No, I said.

All this banditry.
Strikes, unrest, upsets.

All this damn confusion.

Progress has confused everyone.

It's a swindle.

It was simpler when you just shot someone.

- Shot?
- Mind your own business!

My gang isn't striking.
We need order around here.

There have to be profits,
or the plant won't function.

How can we function?

I'll make those profits.

He's still there.
I saw him when I arrived.

I thought my husband must have sent him.

He's just a nuisance.
He's here for me.

Don't worry.

Nevertheless, I don't want witnesses.

Did you prepare for this?

Just as the doctor ordered.
Eight days' abstinence.

This is the basal temperature chart.

I've followed it to the letter.

I'm fertile.
My temperature's up.

I'm ovulating, so get to work.

“Basal temperature, Amalia Finocchiaro.”

Why bring me these damn
medical results every month?

They get on my nerves.

I told you I trusted you.

No, sir!

I want it clear that
this is business, not pleasure.

It's easy for you.
You just lie there.

I can't help that.
It's a cross I have to bear.

- Think I can just do it?
- What do you want me to do?

Come on.
I haven't got time to waste.

There are problems.

A man, in certain circumstances...

does need help.

Help? You disgust me!

I'm making this sacrifice
to spite my husband,

who disgusts me even more than you do,

but I can't participate.

The most I can offer you is a little peek.

Don't trouble yourself.
There's no need.

What must be done, will be done!

Peppino.

Weren't you told to be here this morning?

It's a very important day.
You're not leaving, are you?

Me? I'm a poor wretch.

A nobody, as you say.

I've other things to do,
and you said to leave you alone.

As you wish, but you'll miss a great scene.

Who with? Him?

Him?

It's a good thing he's here.

He can tell his boss
how civilized people fix things.

Civilized? You?

Because you have a car?

Sergeant Amilcare Finocchiaro.

- This'll be fun.
- What are you planning?

- Watch out. He's armed.
- Don't worry. It's safe.

Every detail's been planned.

Every element has been prepared,
organized, checked.

The day of reckoning is here.

- Don't do anything stupid.
- It's all going according to plan.

The show has begun.

Mrs. Mardocheo, my respects.

- What do you want?
- You.

We're going to church.

I'm not talking to you.
Talk to the lawyer.

The time for lawyers is over.
This child bears my name, doesn't he?

Then everyone should see
the nice big family we are.

- I'm not coming with you.
- You are, even if I kick you there.

What are you up to?
Are you mad?

I'll murder that slut!

Shut up and move.
She's not involved.

Sergeant Amilcare Finocchiaro!

May I have a word with you?

Me?

Yes, sir.
You, Sergeant Finocchiaro.

If you wouldn't mind, I'd like a word.

I'm off to church.

It won't take a minute.

Just to sort things out in daylight,

here, in front of friends,
like gentlemen.

Seeing that, as everyone knows,
my wife's child is yours,

and that the one your wife's having...

is mine...

if you agree, once she's delivered,

we could swap.

You take yours. I take mine.

That'll settle all this confusion
about honor and betrayal.

Let's set things straight.
As they say, “To each his own bastard.”

If you get my meaning.

What's he talking about?

It's the truth, dear husband.

You cuckolded me. I cuckolded you.

You're a cuckold, Sergeant.

But don't excite yourself.
You're a rotten scoundrel.

So is he.
A pair of filthy assholes.

Look what you've done.
I'll shoot you both!

Ladies and gentlemen,
the Sergeant's going to shoot!

I'll kill you.

Goon.

Goon!

Shoot me.

Shoot me, Sergeant.

Wounded in honor,
serious provocation. Don't worry.

I didn't shoot him.
He did it.

He did it.

I didn't shoot. I was joking.

That other man did it, not him.

You all saw it.

You all saw it.
It was that other man.

Holy Mother of Carmine.

Today Miminuzzo asked me what honor was.

“Foolishness,” I said.

“Like playing war,
forgetting it's a game and getting hurt.

That's why Papa's in jail.”

I think things all go wrong

because you're confused,
everyone's confused.

Because we cause them,
so we deserve it, see?

Think about it,

and when you get out,
you'll have grown.

You'll be simple like a child
and understand the truth.

Hello, son.

You even come here to mock me.
What are you doing here?

I'm on an official visit.

In gratitude,
I've had your sentence reduced.

You've earned respect.
You defended your honor.

Now there's an amnesty.
What more do you want?

Crime doesn't clear my honor.
It sullies it.

You've ruined my life.

Your life starts now, idiot.

The time is ripe for taking charge.

I need respected men,
and that's what you are now.

We'll talk when you get out.

- I'll be expecting you.
-l won't come.

You will.

Of course you will.

Especially as you'll be needing money.
Lots of it.

You'll see.

Papa! Papa!

Workers, vote for Vito Tricarico,

for a future without violence,
strikes, disorder.

Vote for Vito Tri —

No, wait!

I can explain.
I didn't want to —

I can explain. Fiore!

Don't leave me.
I didn't want to.

I believed in a new, better world too.

But they're all cousins.

You don't realize,
but they're all cousins!

Wait for me.
It wasn't my fault.

Don't leave me!

THE END