All language subtitles for Salò.o.le.120.giornate.di.Sodoma.1975

Northern Italy,
during the Nazi-Fascist occupation

ANTE INFERNO

Your Excellency.

President.

Your Grace.

All things are good
when taken to excess.

Come on lads, let's go.

Where are you off to?

Claudio, your scarf!

Claudio, my son!

Go away.

Hello Ezio.

Hello Luigi.

Sorry, we're obeying orders.

Dear friends,
marrying each other's daughters

will unite our destinies for ever.

President, you will marry Tatiana,

His Excellency's daughter.

I will marry Susy -
your daughter, President.

My two daughters, Liana and Giuliana,

will marry your Excellency
and my brother the Bishop.

The preparations for our plan
are completed.

We can leave now.

In the shadow, maidens bloom

Who will not believe their misfortune.

They listen to the radio, drink tea,

At degree zero of liberty.

They do not know that the bourgeoisie

Has never hesitated to kill its sons.

Lads, get into line, quick!

Into line, quick!

- What's this one called?
- Claudio Cicchetti.

- What's your name?
- Franco.

I knew you'd consider him.

A girl helped us catch him.

He thought he was in for romance,

and instead he's caught in a trap!

- What's your name?
- Sergio.

Shouldn't we take a closer look at them?

Get undressed.

Put your clothes back on.

Out of the way, let them through!

This one is Lamberto Gobbi.

This one is Carlo Porro.

And this one is Umberto Chessari.

Look at him, gentlemen!

I don't mean to boast,

but I waited two whole weeks
to catch him!

And I succeeded, by God!

And this is Ferruccia Tonna, from
Castelfranco.

A family of subversives.

Good, good.

This one with the curls
is Tonino Orlando.

No need to introduce him.

I've waited two long years for him.

Your Excellency, please help me.

His father was a senior judge,
like myself.

- A Southerner, is that right?
- Yes, sir.

However,
I may not be the one to deflower you.

In time we will decide

who will do you that delightful honour.

So, Tonino.

Eva, come.

Try to behave yourself.

Here, gentlemen.

Come, no one wants to harm you.

Show these nice gentlemen
all your hidden charms.

Good girl.

Look. What a beauty.

A delicious bottom,

as firm as you like.

Tits to revive a dying man.

Enough, bring us another one.

Signora Castelli, your turn!
The gentlemen are waiting!

Oh God! Madam!

Please let me go!

She's called Albertina.

Her father is a professor in Bologna.

To take her from the convent school,
we had to 'convince' two nuns.

You'll prefer us to the sisters, won't you?

I don't know yet, sir.

Very well, undress her.

Just a moment.

But sir, no one noticed -
such a pretty girl...

Take her away.

Don't you dare disgrace me.

I know your little tricks.

We waited for her to come out
with her mother.

The stupid woman tried to defend her,

fell into the river and drowned.

Right before this angel's eyes...

There were nine boys,
now there are eight.

Anyone know the difference between
a figure eight, a 'no-no', and a family?

No, tell us!

'8' is twice four, 'no-no' is twice not for.

- And the family?
- They're fine, thank you!

- Hello!
- And welcome!

Everything has been prepared
according to your wishes.

You weak, chained creatures,
destined for our pleasure,

don't expect to find here

the ridiculous freedom
granted by the outside world.

You are beyond the reach of any legality.

No one knows you are here.

To the outside world,
you are already dead.

Here are the laws
that will govern your lives.

At six sharp, the company will assemble
in the 'Hall of Orgies',

where our Storytellers,

each in turn, will tell us stories

on a particular theme.

Our friends have the right
to interrupt at any point.

The aim of these stories is
to inflame the imagination.

Any debauchery will be permitted.

After dinner,
the gentlemen will celebrate

what we will term the 'orgies'.

The Hall will be adequately heated.

All participants
will be appropriately dressed,

and will lie on the floor like animals.

They will intermingle,

they will copulate incestuously,

adulterously and sodomistically.

This will be the daily procedure,
and whoever...

Away! No servants here!

Any man caught in flagrante delicto
with a woman

will be punished by the loss of a limb.

The slightest religious acts

performed by any subject

will be punished by death.

Away! Get inside now, take them inside!

CIRCLE OF MANIAS

- What's your girlfriend called?
- Margherita.

THE END

He seemed to fall

into a state of semi-unconsciousness.

He threw himself onto a chair,

and ejaculated,

spraying his seed
onto the charred remains of my clothes.

CIRCLE OF SHIT

He insisted that they show him
their rumps, and defecate before him.

He maintained

that there can be no better faeces

than those produced by a woman

who has just heard
her own death sentence.

CIRCLE OF BLOOD

Your Reverence, we are ready!

We want a marvelous wedding.

Let's start with the President,
he is the most randy.

I can't deny it!

Sons of bitches.

What is this, a mortuary?

These parasites do nothing
on such a festive day!

Scream with joy,
do what you will, above all laugh!

Come, idiots!

Show us how happy you are!

Come! Laugh!

You!

Why don't you scream with joy,
clap, sing?

Why don't you burst into laughter?

You're not laughing!

You two!

What are you doing?

Your Excellency, take note.

Of course! Dear girls,

Since you like to whimper, we'll make
you whimper for the rest of your days.

The few days you have left!

You should have paid the rent,
Monsieur Royal!

Of course, Monsieur Jujusse!

Have you thought about my rent too?

Why, Monsieur Jujusse?

Because two and two make four,
and I have no money.

You have to earn some!

How does one make money?

By working with your hands.

But I don't know how!

Then you must be an actor.

That's difficult!

In that case...

you should write.

Anything at all.

What are you doing?

Let me carry out my duty and I'll return.

Your friend here is ready
whenever you are.

Sir, listen please.

Speak, my dear.

What will you do to me?

We'll decide tomorrow.

We'll decide many things then.

I know something you don't know.

Someone here is breaking your rules.

Graziella has a photograph
under her pillow.

Give me the photograph.

Give it to me.

Give me the photograph!

Spare me, and I'll show you
what Eva and Antoniska do at night.

They're breaking your laws.

My love.

So, you bitches...

Don't kill me! I have secrets to tell you.

Speak, whore!

Every night Ezio goes to
the black servant girl.

I can take you there.

There they are.

Queers!

You're disgusting.

Those I have named
will wear a sky blue ribbon.

They can imagine what awaits them.

The others, as long as they cooperate,

may hope to come with us to Salò.

What have we done?
What will you do to us?

You'll soon see!

Now you'll understand
how serious your faults are!

To begin my story,

I have chosen a character

who has already appeared
in the previous stories.

A man of around 40,

tall, and endowed
with an enormous member.

He is also extremely rich,

very powerful, severe, and cruel.

With a heart of stone.

He has a house near Milan,

which he uses just for his pleasure.

He wants at least 15 girls
present at any feast,

aged between 15 and 17.

The girls chosen

must show themselves
completely nude to the libertine.

He touches them, fondles them,
examines them,

and gets each one
to defecate in his mouth.

He doesn't swallow.

Having carried this out
with terrible gravity,

He brands each girl on the shoulder,

burning a number into the tender flesh.

After these preliminaries,

he opens the window,

places a girl in the middle of the room,

with her face turned towards
the window.

Now he gives her
such a strong kick on the behind

that the poor girl

flies across the room,

through the window,
and vanishes into a dark cellar.

And click!

The circle of being.

Our man not only knows Nietzsche,

but Huysmans too.

A masked executioner
with the devil's emblems

presides gravely over
the horrible machines.

Once all the girls are gathered,

OUT man...

extraordinarily excited,

having had so much contact
without any release,

he's fully naked, his member
is almost glued to his stomach...

Everything is ready.

The machines are set into motion.

The tortures all start at once.

The screeches are terrible.

The first is a huge wheel
with razor blades,

A girl is tied to it to be flayed alive.

Another gets a rat sewed
inside her vagina.

Lord, why have you forsaken us?

It is not enough

to kill the same person
over and over again.

It is far more recommendable

to kill as many beings as possible.

Umberto, come here.

Good boy. You were ready.

Umberto, come here.

What does a Bolshevik do
when he dives into the Red Sea?

- I don't know.
- You don't know?

No, tell me.

He goes splash!

Poetry Corner.
Ezra Pound. From The Cantos.

From Canto 99.

The whole tribe is from one man's body.

What other way can you think of it?

The surname and the nine arts.

The father's word is compassion.

The son's, devotion.

Small birds sing in chorus. Harmony
is in the proportion of branches.

The gay face of spring
is set before the world.

The sharpness of winter
now flees defeated.

In various apparel Flora reigns.

And in the euphony of the woods

she is hymned in song.

- Can you dance?
- No.

Come on, let's try.

May I make a suggestion?

Do you not think, Signora Maggi,
that before starting your stories,

- you should show us your best part?
- Of course.

With great pleasure.

I told you, friends:

such a behind has to be seen.

I have seldom seen better.

Thank you, you're too kind.

We are satisfied,
Signora Maggi may commence.

Since I see that you gentlemen
esteem the rear end,

I will devote my stories to this subject.

My story will interest you all,

especially the President:

it concerns the passion

which he prefers above all,

and thanks to which I met him.

You can't tell of my turpitudes
before these innocent children.

Enough!

I want to hear Signora Maggi!

I will tell you of the years of my infancy,

years spent training my body

to satisfy the basest,
most extravagant desires.

I was suddenly an expert
in this most difficult art

and my fame spread across Italy.

I had many eminent clients.

And I gave the best of myself
to all of them.

I will begin
with a curious episode in my life.

Signora Evola,
the Madame I worked for,

once sent me to a client

after feeding me a large,
laxative-filled meal.

The client was an old police general.

He made me undress him
and put a nappy on him.

I was used to such fixations,
and waited for his orders.

My bowels soon rebelled,

and he told me to relieve myself.

I did this without embarrassment.

He made me dip my fingers
in my excrement,

and feed it to him like a baby.

All was done as it should be.

He swallowed everything,

simulating the cries of a baby,

and ejaculated into his nappy.

I knew a man capable
of such refinements.

We expect only the best tales of you.

Of course.

My next tale takes place in Verona.

I was told that the client

waiting for me at the hotel

was an old aristocrat,
notorious for his depravity.

I was very intrigued, as you can imagine.

But my mother was more intolerant
than usual that evening.

She cried and begged me
to change my ways.

I couldn't resist the temptation,
and killed her.

It was the only thing you could do.

The excitement awaiting you
was greater than anything else.

It deserved a sacrifice.

It is madness to think you owe anything
to your mother.

Should we be grateful because she once
took pleasure with a man?

That should be enough for her.

I remember I once had a mother too,

who aroused similar feelings in me.

As soon as I could,
I sent her to the next world.

I have never known
such subtle pleasure

as when she closed her eyes
for the last time.

What's wrong? Why is the girl crying?

I'll tell you why.

Your talk is reminding her of her mother,

do you remember?
She died trying to protect her.

Splendid!

You're crying for your mummy,
my dear?

Come, I'll comfort you.

Come you poor thing.

Come to Papa's arms, little one,

He'll sing you another lullaby.

What an opportunity you offer me,
my child.

Shall we put into practice
Signora Maggi's tale?

Signore!

Please have mercy on my suffering.

I weep for my poor mother.

She died for me,
and I'll never see her again!

Undress her!

Kill me! God at least will pity me!

Don't dishonour me!

This howling is the most exciting thing
I have ever heard.

Kill me!

Spare me the torment
of seeing and hearing such horrors!

She's invoking God.

I'll write it immediately
in the Book of Punishments.

She deserves a terrible one.

Yes, at once, the most terrible!

So that I can join my mother.

There's no hurry.
We know what to do with you.

You will be punished,
deflowered at the right moment.

But don't think you can escape me now.

Don't think you can quash my desire,
on the contrary.

Come forward, little one - it's ready.

On your knees!

Be brave.

Go on, eat.

Take the spoon.

Eat!

Eat!

Eat again!

It's unbearable

that a girl should behave like this
before such a delicacy.

A friend of mine demanded
that the excrement he ate

come from an old beggar, so they would
be more putrid and delicious.

I found a venerable woman
of seventy for him...

Spoiled food provokes
excellent diarrhea,

if it is eaten hastily, at odd hours,

when digestion is underway.

We must try that at once.

Dear President,

I am eager to know how
you met Signora Maggi.

Wait, I want her to tell you.

After His Excellency has married Sergio,

you will laugh at my expense.

I won't deprive you of this pleasure.

Today's subject demands
a revision of our rules.

If we want to get the most

out of our stay within these walls,

we must revise part of our rules.

For example,

we should put containers in the latrines
to collect all excrement.

One of us said
that nothing should go to waste.

Let's follow Signora Maggi's example,

and give our dear President
the joy of seeing his dreams realised.

Hello, Signora Castelli.

Hello, President.
They'll be ready in a moment.

I just wanted to make sure...

The chamber pots, quick!

Quick!

What are the rules?

Yes, but...

What's your name?

Please, it's all the muck
we've been given to eat...

What's your name?

She's called Doris.

She's always the most undisciplined.

In that case she will join

those who are already included
in this list.

- Whose is this?
- Mine. Help yourself.

Is this how you obey our rules,
impertinent brat?

Show me this boy's arse.

You even dared to clean yourself.

You'll get what you deserve.

We're ready, President.

I'm afraid as I was getting this boy ready,

I was not able to watch these rogues
as I should have.

There will be no evasion

unless the German people depart...

from a worthwhile life.

We are prepared to lead an existence

before which

the most primitive Africans
must be ashamed.

Whoever is manly...

The gentlemen know

that their commands are laws for us.

Their every desire is an order
which we rejoice in fulfilling.

I fed those I considered
the most suitable creatures

in the way I was taught,

so they would provide
the greatest delicacy

for this wedding feast.

All the girls abstained
from relieving themselves in private,

as your law requires.

All to provide you with this.

Let the rite begin.

Our Theism reintroduces
the divine character of monstrosity

through repeated acts,

that is to say, rites.

There is no food more exhilarating.

Your senses will be reinvigorated

to meet the challenges that await you.

Eat, my exquisite bride.

You must build up your strength.

You must prepare for our night of loving.

Nothing's worse than breath
without odor.

Eva, I can't.

Offer it to Our Lady.

Do this.

Can you say: 'I can't eat rice'
with your fingers like that?

'I can't eat rice.'

Then eat shit.

What I am about to tell you
has to do with Cupid himself.

I allude of course
to our illustrious President.

After I had satisfied him,

I was amazed at seeing
such particular tastes

in a man who was then so young.
Tastes...

which will be explained in my story.

Well, friends.

Freed from my mother,

I found life rich in all its delights,

The woman I worked for

presented me to the libertine in question,

whose habits will strike you
as rather unusual.

The scene took place in his house.

I was taken to a dark room,

where I saw a man lying on the bed,

and a coffin in the middle of the room.

'You see before you', he said,

'a man lying on his deathbed.

'A man who will not close his eyes,

'without paying one last tribute
to the object

'of his adoration.

'I adore the behind.

'And even though I'm about to die,

'I want to kiss one as I leave.

'When life has abandoned my body,

'you yourself will put me in the coffin,

'wrap me in my shroud,

'and close the lid.

'My will

'is to be served scrupulously

'at this supreme moment,

'by the sole object of my lewd desires.

'Come, some?

He went on, his voice broken, sobbing.

'Hurry!

'I am on the verge of death!'

I went up to him.

I turned, and exhibited my backside.

'A marvelous arse!', he exclaimed.

'I can go to the grave

'now that I have seen this marvel.'

He fondled it, opened it,

played with it,

and kissed it, just as the healthiest man
in the world would have.

Then he made me free myself

of what my bowels contained.

I did so without
the slightest embarrassment.

'Now I must die!', he rattled,

twisting in the bed.

'The supreme moment has arrived!'

As he said this, he sighed deeply.

He became rigid,
and was so good at his part...

On top - piss on me.

Come on!

I can't, it won't come.

Piss!

There.

I've finished.

This cloud of disgust
that enters the mind of the libertine

at the moment when
the illusion vanishes.

The limit of love is
always needing an accomplice!

But your friend knew
that the libertine's refinement,

is to be at once
the executioner and the victim!

My sister however

knew an official in
the Controller's Office, a little pig

with a most disagreeable face.

They put a chamber pot beneath them,

sat back against back,

and discharged themselves.

Then he mixed up the excrement
and swallowed it.

My sister said this

and seeing her dirty behind
was enough for him to ejaculate.

Did your sister have a nice arse,
Signora Maggi?

You must judge by this.

A famous painter

was asked to paint a Venus
with a superb backside,

asked her to be his model
after he had consulted

all the Madames of Italy

without finding anything suitable.

And tell me, how old was she?

Fifteen, Duke.

You've made us curious!

Let's organize a beauty contest for these
youngsters' arses.

I will do just that.

I am a specialist.

Excellency, does this situation
remind you of anything?

Well?

Ferraggi! Are you ready?

Just a moment!

The act of sodomy

contains the death of
the human species.

It accepts social norms
only to infringe them.

More monstrous than
the act of the sodomite,

is the act of the executioner.

Yes, but the act of the sodomite
can be repeated thousands of times.

A way can be found
to repeat the act of the executioner.

It's ready.

Turn out the light.

It's my masterpiece.

- One moment.
- Yes?

Before we go on, I have a proposal.

Tell us.

We have not yet defined a prize

for whoever has the best behind.

I suggest this:

the boy or girl

whose behind is judged most beautiful

will be killed instantly.

Agreed.

Without knowing who they belong to,

we are sure to be impartial.

Very true.

Merci, votre Excellence.

Knowing that an arse belongs
to a boy rather than a girl

could influence our decision.

Instead we should be
absolutely free to choose.

I wouldn't want to fall into this trap.

When you prefer men,

it's hard to conceive a change.

The differences between boys and girls
are huge.

You cannot consider
what is obviously inferior.

What about this one?

If we consider the stories
we have heard,

we might conclude that often

a girl is preferable to a boy.

Still, let's try to be objective.

Look at the beauty of this hollow,

the elasticity of the buttocks...

There can be no doubt this is the one.

One moment, Duke.

I wish to re-examine
a most impressive one.

Some light, please.

We are happy to oblige.

I don't think the heaviness
of these buttocks

can be compared to the grace
I pointed out to you.

That is the most beautiful arse.

I will yield to the opinion
of the majority, however.

I too

vote for the Duke's candidate.

I vote for the Duke's candidate.

Dear President,
that's three votes to one.

I yield to the majority.

But I request that my candidate
be reserved for me to deflower.

Let it be so.

Lights!

Let's unveil the mystery.

It's Franchino.

Fire!

Idiot, did you really think
we would kill you?

Don't you see we want to kill you
a thousand times,

to the limits of eternity,
if eternity could have limits?

Once I had a very mysterious client.

His particular mania is linked to those

which Signora Castelli
will describe in her stories.

I apologise for this.

The man in question

only wanted women
who were condemned to death.

The closer they were to death,

the better he paid them.

He would visit them
once the sentence was pronounced.

Thanks to his excellent social position

and the fact
he could afford to pay any price,

not a single one escaped him.

But he did not possess them casually.

I was born in a boarding school,
where my mother was a servant.

One day, my sister asked
if I knew Professor Gentile.

I said: 'No.' - 'Well, look outside then,
he's looking for you.

'To show you what
he's already shown me.

'Don't run away now.

'If you let him do what he wants,
he'll pay you.'

Without thinking, I ran to him.
I couldn't believe it.

He stops me, and says:
'Where are you going?'

'To put the chairs back, Professor.'
- 'Your sister can do that.

'Come here, I'll show you something
you've never seen.'

I follow him, we go in,
and he closes the door.

He takes a monstrous penis
out of his trousers.

'Tell me,' he says, as he masturbates,

'have you ever seen anything like it?

'I've already shown it to your sister,
and to all the little girls your age.

'Give me a hand, help it

'to pour forth the semen
from which we are all created.

'I'll make it spurt on your face.

'This is my sole passion, my child...

'and you are about to see it.'

At that very moment,

I was immersed in a white jet,
which covered me from head to toe.

One moment, Signora Vacari.

You must not omit any details.

Otherwise your stories
will not arouse us sufficiently.

My dear sir...

I know, I was told not to omit any details,

and to go into even
the slightest particulars

every time they might serve
to shed light on human nature,

or on a specific type of passion.

I don't think I've left anything out.

Well, to give you an example,

I know nothing of the dimensions
of your Professor's penis.

I don't know about
the type of ejaculation,

I don't even know
if he touched your genitals,

or made you take it in your hands.

In short, dear Signora Vacari,
be clearer please.

I'm sorry, from now on I will give you
all the details you want.

May I continue?
- One moment.

One moment...

Time the staff of my old age
had some fun...

Shortly after my seventh birthday,

I took one of my friends
to see the Professor.

He was with a colleague.

They pulled us inside.

Looking at me, one said to the other:

'Well, Goff redo, didn't I tell you
she was a beauty?'

'But yes, you're absolutely right.

'She's a real little jewel.'

That's what Goff redo said
as he took me onto his lap,

and gave me a kiss: 'How old are you?'

'Seven, Professor.'

'That's fifty years younger than me!'

And the good Professor
kissed me again.

Meanwhile, the other was preparing
a strange syrup.

They made me drink it,
telling me it would help me to pee.

And they added:

'All we want of you, dear child,
is that you urinate,

'and that you do it with me,
alone together.

- 'Come on, let's go.'
- You vermin!

Your Excellency!

I want this delinquent
to be severely punished!

We are at your disposal.

He had the impudence
to pull away from me.

Why don't you choose one of ours?

No, thank you.

It would take huge efforts
to satisfy me now.

A moment ago, only the slightest effort
would suffice, but now...

You know what we're driven to
by frustrated desire.

All I ask of you

is exemplary punishment

for this son of a bitch.

My Lord, I feel ready to satisfy you.

You won't need to teach me anything.

No, let me be.

There are a thousand occasions

when one does not desire
a woman's anus.

I'll Wait!

Let Signora Vaccari continue.

Everything had been organized
for the Professor

to swallow every last drop of my piss.

At the same moment, his penis,
confused by victory,

cried tears of blood over me.

But at this point,
the Professor seemed to realise

that now that the passion
was consumed,

he no longer felt the same
religious fervor for his idol as before.

So, with no further ado,

he slipped 10 lire into my pocket
and pushed me out.

My God, this boy doesn't know
how to masturbate.

He needs a lesson.

You'd think he'd never seen
a man's tool, it's scandalous.

Well, my friends,

Signora Vaccari is sure to soon turn
them into first class whores.

Nothing is more contagious than evil.

You are mistaken, your Excellency.

Some people can do evil
only when passion drives them to it.

They are always unhappy,

and spend every morning regretting
the evils of the previous night.

Umberto, Franco, take a look.
What do you think?

Boys, look, boys...

Rinaldo, take a look. Take a good look.

Beautiful.

Claudio, Bruno, you too.

My turn, Efisio!

On Perati Bridge

A black flag flies:

The mourning of the Julian regiment
that goes to war.

The best of youth lie under the earth.

Giuliana, Eva,

Graziella, Doris, Renata,
and all the others!

Off you go!

Down! Get them down!

The gentlemen are not satisfied
with you.

The first thing you must learn
is how to hold it.

You! Come here.

Well?

Go on!

Up and down!

Squeeze it harder!

Stroke underneath with the other hand.

Slut! See how it's done.

And thus we go from nine
down to eight girls.

Speaking of eights, here's a story.

It's about a man who had a friend
named Six-times-eight.

One night they got lost going home
in the blackout.

Our man looks for his friend.

He's looking and looking...

And at last he thinks he sees
something move in the darkness.

He's happy, thinking he's found
his friend Six-times-eight.

He shouts: 'Six-times-eight!'

And a voice replies: 'forty-eight!'

Music! And another story now,
Signora Vaccari!

Something stimulating,
to brace us for battle!

I was nine when my sister took me
to see Signora Calzetti in Milan.

She examined me and asked
if I wanted to work for her.

I said I would do any job
if the pay was good.

Half an hour later I started work.

A large man called Vaccari
looked me over from head to toe.

I showed him my pussy,
which I thought was very special.

He covered his eyes.

'Out of the question, my dear!

'I'll have nothing to do with your vagina!
Put it away, please!'

He covered it up,
and lay me on my belly on the bed.

He said: 'These poor whores have
only vaginas to show you.

'Now I have to rid my head
of that horrible image.'

He wrapped me up in a sheet,

like a mummy,
leaving only my behind uncovered.

He caressed it gently,
opened and closed the cheeks...

and sucked it greedily.

Then he very carefully

put his member between my buttocks.

His movements became frenzied,
until they became convulsions.

'There's the adorable behind,
the soft little anus...

'Now I'll anoint it.'

He said that three or four times.

I never saw him again.

Your first client

had an idea of women
that most of us do not share.

Homage to the rear temple

is often more fervent than the other.

I put this question to the company:

how can you establish

the true inclination of a boy or girl,
their best part in short?

I believe by masturbation
on different parts of their body.

Let's take the youngsters
we have doubts about

and go immediately
to the last room to verify this.

Observing, with equal passion
and apathy, Guido and Vaccari

as they masturbate these two bodies
which belong to us,

inspires some interesting reflections.

Please share them, dear Duke.

We Fascists
are the only true Anarchists.

Naturally,

only once we are masters of the state:
true Anarchy is power.

However, look at their obscene gestures.

It's like sign language,

a code that none of us can break,
however great our power.

There's nothing we can do.

Our choice is categorical.

We must restrict our impulses
to a single gesture.

He came! He's a man!

Good! Excellent!

Little Sergio, we're proud of you.

And here is a woman.

It's the first couple!

Sergio, you've shown us you are a man.

She is your prize.

Move!

Appreciate the good will
of these gentlemen

who are allowing you
such a great privilege.

We solemnly celebrate your marriage.

What a fine thing.

This one too.

What a whore...

Away, you idiots! Away!

Good, my dears,
let us resume the ceremony.

Do you, Sergio, take Renata

for your wife?
- I do.

Do you, Renata,
take Sergio for your husband?

I do.

Then I pronounce you man and wife.

Away, all of you!

disappear!

Out, all of you!

You too, out!

Ah, the Exalted, the Sublime!

Whoever serves it is also bound.

Itself does not bind to being.

Only he who leads himself

Takes on the yoke of elevation.
Gottfried Benn.

Come on now, courage.

Are you not newlyweds?

You are free to give rein to your feelings.

Down!

Well?

Get busy, you imbecile.

No, not this!

This flower is reserved for us!

The principle of all greatness on earth

has long been totally bathed in blood.

And, my friends, if my memory
does not betray me -

yes, that's it:

'without bloodshed,
there is no forgiveness.'

'Without bloodshed...' Baudelaire.

Your Excellency, the expression
is not from Baudelaire.

It is from Nietzsche's
Genealogy of Morals.

No, it's neither Baudelaire
nor Nietzsche.

Nor is it from Saint Paul's
Letter to the Romans.

It's from Dada.

Sing me that sweet melody
that I love so much.

That goes 'da-da'...

Delicious creature...

Do you want my old, dirty underpants?

What incomparable refinement.

See how I appreciate the value of things.

Listen, my angel.

My greatest desire is to satisfy you.

You know I respect all tastes
and whims.

Baroque as they may be,
I find them all respectable.

Because we are not their masters,

and even the most singular,
if you analyze them well,

derive from a principle of délicatesse.

Yes, old buggers: 'esprit de délicatessé!

One day, Madame sent me
to another libertine's house.

He received me in a room
with a splendid Chinese carpet.

After making me undress,
he got me on all fours, like an animal.

And then, stroking my head,
he said to me:

'I want to see
if you're as quick as my dogs.'

He threw two roasted chestnuts
on the floor,

saying, as though I were a bitch:

'Here, Ketch?

I thought it best to play his game.

You've got two pretty eyes
to see with - so look.

Piss!

'Filthy muck, whore, putrid bitch!',

he cried, approaching me
and ejaculating over my back.

That was the end of it.

The man left, I got up,

and discovered 25,000 lire
inside my coat.

Good, good girl...

Eat, good boys...

You eat too.

Eat!

Your Excellency, do you see?

I rejoice when I see others degraded,

and can say to myself:

'I am happier than the scum
they call the people.'

If men were equal,
happiness could not exist.

So you wouldn't aid the humble,
the unhappy?

In all the world,

nothing flatters the senses more
than social privilege.

Eat!

The time has come to tell you
of the mania of Minister Missiroli.

I went to the Minister's house
around 10 in the morning.

All the doors closed behind me.

'What are you doing here,
you little bitch?

'Who gave you permission
to disturb me?'

No one had warned me
of what would happen.

I was terrified by this welcome.

I can't take any more.

Weeping, I threw myself
at the man's feet,

but he just tore my clothes off,

and, to my terror, burnt them in the fire.

I stood naked in front of him.

The Minister

looked at me from behind,

and started to caress me.

He seemed to fall

into a state of semi-unconsciousness.

He threw himself onto a chair,

and ejaculated,

spraying his seed
onto the charred remains of my clothes.

CIRCLE OF SHIT

May I make a suggestion?

Do you not think, Signora Maggi,
that before starting your stories,

- you should show us your best part?
- Of course.

With great pleasure.

I told you, friends:

such a behind has to be seen.

I have seldom seen better.

Thank you, you're too kind.

We are satisfied,
Signora Maggi may commence.

Since I see that you gentlemen
esteem the rear end,

I will devote my stories to this subject.

My story will interest you all,

especially the President:

it concerns the passion

which he prefers above all,

and thanks to which I met him.

You can't tell of my turpitudes
before these innocent children.

Enough!

I want to hear Signora Maggi!

I will tell you of the years of my infancy,

years spent training my body

to satisfy the basest,
most extravagant desires.

I was suddenly an expert
in this most difficult art

and my fame spread across Italy.

I had many eminent clients.

And I gave the best of myself
to all of them.

I will begin
with a curious episode in my life.

Signora Evola,
the Madame I worked for,

once sent me to a client

after feeding me a large,
laxative-filled meal.

The client was an old police general.

He made me undress him
and put a nappy on him.

I was used to such fixations,
and waited for his orders.

My bowels soon rebelled,

and he told me to relieve myself.

I did this without embarrassment.

He made me dip my fingers
in my excrement,

and feed it to him like a baby.

All was done as it should be.

He swallowed everything,

simulating the cries of a baby,

and ejaculated into his nappy.

I knew a man capable
of such refinements.

We expect only the best tales of you.

Of course.

My next tale takes place in Verona.

I was told that the client

waiting for me at the hotel

was an old aristocrat,
notorious for his depravity.

I was very intrigued, as you can imagine.

But my mother was more intolerant
than usual that evening.

She cried and begged me
to change my ways.

I couldn't resist the temptation,
and killed her.

It was the only thing you could do.

The excitement awaiting you
was greater than anything else.

It deserved a sacrifice.

It is madness to think you owe anything
to your mother.

Should we be grateful because she once
took pleasure with a man?

That should be enough for her.

I remember I once had a mother too,

who aroused similar feelings in me.

As soon as I could,
I sent her to the next world.

I have never known
such subtle pleasure

as when she closed her eyes
for the last time.

What's wrong? Why is the girl crying?

I'll tell you why.

Your talk is reminding her of her mother,

do you remember?
She died trying to protect her.

Splendid!

You're crying for your mummy,
my dear?

Come, I'll comfort you.

Come you poor thing.

Come to Papa's arms, little one,

He'll sing you another lullaby.

What an opportunity you offer me,
my child.

Shall we put into practice
Signora Maggi's tale?

Signore!

Please have mercy on my suffering.

I weep for my poor mother.

She died for me,
and I'll never see her again!

Undress her!

Kill me! God at least will pity me!

Don't dishonour me!

This howling is the most exciting thing
I have ever heard.

Kill me!

Spare me the torment
of seeing and hearing such horrors!

She's invoking God.

I'll write it immediately
in the Book of Punishments.

She deserves a terrible one.

Yes, at once, the most terrible!

So that I can join my mother.

There's no hurry.
We know what to do with you.

You will be punished,
deflowered at the right moment.

But don't think you can escape me now.

Don't think you can quash my desire,
on the contrary.

Come forward, little one - it's ready.

On your knees!

Be brave.

Go on, eat.

Take the spoon.

Eat!

Eat!

Eat again!

It's unbearable

that a girl should behave like this
before such a delicacy.

A friend of mine demanded
that the excrement he ate

come from an old beggar, so they would
be more putrid and delicious.

I found a venerable woman
of seventy for him...

Spoiled food provokes
excellent diarrhea,

if it is eaten hastily, at odd hours,

when digestion is underway.

We must try that at once.

Dear President,

I am eager to know how
you met Signora Maggi.

Wait, I want her to tell you.

After His Excellency has married Sergio,

you will laugh at my expense.

I won't deprive you of this pleasure.

Today's subject demands
a revision of our rules.

If we want to get the most

out of our stay within these walls,

we must revise part of our rules.

For example,

we should put containers in the latrines
to collect all excrement.

One of us said
that nothing should go to waste.

Let's follow Signora Maggi's example,

and give our dear President
the joy of seeing his dreams realised.

Hello, Signora Castelli.

Hello, President.
They'll be ready in a moment.

I just wanted to make sure...

The chamber pots, quick!

Quick!

What are the rules?

Yes, but...

What's your name?

Please, it's all the muck
we've been given to eat...

What's your name?

She's called Doris.

She's always the most undisciplined.

In that case she will join

those who are already included
in this list.

- Whose is this?
- Mine. Help yourself.

Is this how you obey our rules,
impertinent brat?

Show me this boy's arse.

You even dared to clean yourself.

You'll get what you deserve.

We're ready, President.

I'm afraid as I was getting this boy ready,

I was not able to watch these rogues
as I should have.

There will be no evasion

unless the German people depart...

from a worthwhile life.

We are prepared to lead an existence

before which

the most primitive Africans
must be ashamed.

Whoever is manly...

The gentlemen know

that their commands are laws for us.

Their every desire is an order
which we rejoice in fulfilling.

I fed those I considered
the most suitable creatures

in the way I was taught,

so they would provide
the greatest delicacy

for this wedding feast.

All the girls abstained
from relieving themselves in private,

as your law requires.

All to provide you with this.

Let the rite begin.

Our Theism reintroduces
the divine character of monstrosity

through repeated acts,

that is to say, rites.

There is no food more exhilarating.

Your senses will be reinvigorated

to meet the challenges that await you.

Eat, my exquisite bride.

You must build up your strength.

You must prepare for our night of loving.

Nothing's worse than breath
without odor.

Eva, I can't.

Offer it to Our Lady.

Do this.

Can you say: 'I can't eat rice'
with your fingers like that?

'I can't eat rice.'

Then eat shit.

What I am about to tell you
has to do with Cupid himself.

I allude of course
to our illustrious President.

After I had satisfied him,

I was amazed at seeing
such particular tastes

in a man who was then so young.
Tastes...

which will be explained in my story.

Well, friends.

Freed from my mother,

I found life rich in all its delights,

The woman I worked for

presented me to the libertine in question,

whose habits will strike you
as rather unusual.

The scene took place in his house.

I was taken to a dark room,

where I saw a man lying on the bed,

and a coffin in the middle of the room.

'You see before you', he said,

'a man lying on his deathbed.

'A man who will not close his eyes,

'without paying one last tribute
to the object

'of his adoration.

'I adore the behind.

'And even though I'm about to die,

'I want to kiss one as I leave.

'When life has abandoned my body,

'you yourself will put me in the coffin,

'wrap me in my shroud,

'and close the lid.

'My will

'is to be served scrupulously

'at this supreme moment,

'by the sole object of my lewd desires.

'Come, some?

He went on, his voice broken, sobbing.

'Hurry!

'I am on the verge of death!'

I went up to him.

I turned, and exhibited my backside.

'A marvelous arse!', he exclaimed.

'I can go to the grave

'now that I have seen this marvel.'

He fondled it, opened it,

played with it,

and kissed it, just as the healthiest man
in the world would have.

Then he made me free myself

of what my bowels contained.

I did so without
the slightest embarrassment.

'Now I must die!', he rattled,

twisting in the bed.

'The supreme moment has arrived!'

As he said this, he sighed deeply.

He became rigid,
and was so good at his part...

On top - piss on me.

Come on!

I can't, it won't come.

Piss!

There.

I've finished.

This cloud of disgust
that enters the mind of the libertine

at the moment when
the illusion vanishes.

The limit of love is
always needing an accomplice!

But your friend knew
that the libertine's refinement,

is to be at once
the executioner and the victim!

My sister however

knew an official in
the Controller's Office, a little pig

with a most disagreeable face.

They put a chamber pot beneath them,

sat back against back,

and discharged themselves.

Then he mixed up the excrement
and swallowed it.

My sister said this

and seeing her dirty behind
was enough for him to ejaculate.

Did your sister have a nice arse,
Signora Maggi?

You must judge by this.

A famous painter

was asked to paint a Venus
with a superb backside,

asked her to be his model
after he had consulted

all the Madames of Italy

without finding anything suitable.

And tell me, how old was she?

Fifteen, Duke.

You've made us curious!

Let's organize a beauty contest for these
youngsters' arses.

I will do just that.

I am a specialist.

Excellency, does this situation
remind you of anything?

Well?

Ferraggi! Are you ready?

Just a moment!

The act of sodomy

contains the death of
the human species.

It accepts social norms
only to infringe them.

More monstrous than
the act of the sodomite,

is the act of the executioner.

Yes, but the act of the sodomite
can be repeated thousands of times.

A way can be found
to repeat the act of the executioner.

It's ready.

Turn out the light.

It's my masterpiece.

- One moment.
- Yes?

Before we go on, I have a proposal.

Tell us.

We have not yet defined a prize

for whoever has the best behind.

I suggest this:

the boy or girl

whose behind is judged most beautiful

will be killed instantly.

Agreed.

Without knowing who they belong to,

we are sure to be impartial.

Very true.

Merci, votre Excellence.

Knowing that an arse belongs
to a boy rather than a girl

could influence our decision.

Instead we should be
absolutely free to choose.

I wouldn't want to fall into this trap.

When you prefer men,

it's hard to conceive a change.

The differences between boys and girls
are huge.

You cannot consider
what is obviously inferior.

What about this one?

If we consider the stories
we have heard,

we might conclude that often

a girl is preferable to a boy.

Still, let's try to be objective.

Look at the beauty of this hollow,

the elasticity of the buttocks...

There can be no doubt this is the one.

One moment, Duke.

I wish to re-examine
a most impressive one.

Some light, please.

We are happy to oblige.

I don't think the heaviness
of these buttocks

can be compared to the grace
I pointed out to you.

That is the most beautiful arse.

I will yield to the opinion
of the majority, however.

I too

vote for the Duke's candidate.

I vote for the Duke's candidate.

Dear President,
that's three votes to one.

I yield to the majority.

But I request that my candidate
be reserved for me to deflower.

Let it be so.

Lights!

Let's unveil the mystery.

It's Franchino.

Fire!

Idiot, did you really think
we would kill you?

Don't you see we want to kill you
a thousand times,

to the limits of eternity,
if eternity could have limits?

Once I had a very mysterious client.

His particular mania is linked to those

which Signora Castelli
will describe in her stories.

I apologise for this.

The man in question

only wanted women
who were condemned to death.

The closer they were to death,

the better he paid them.

He would visit them
once the sentence was pronounced.

Thanks to his excellent social position

and the fact
he could afford to pay any price,

not a single one escaped him.

But he did not possess them casually.

He insisted that they show him
their rumps, and defecate before him.

He maintained

that there can be no better faeces

than those produced by a woman

who has just heard
her own death sentence.

CIRCLE OF BLOOD

Your Reverence, we are ready!

We want a marvelous wedding.

Let's start with the President,
he is the most randy.

I can't deny it!

Sons of bitches.

What is this, a mortuary?

These parasites do nothing
on such a festive day!

Scream with joy,
do what you will, above all laugh!

Come, idiots!

Show us how happy you are!

Come! Laugh!

You!

Why don't you scream with joy,
clap, sing?

Why don't you burst into laughter?

You're not laughing!

You two!

What are you doing?

Your Excellency, take note.

Of course! Dear girls,

Since you like to whimper, we'll make
you whimper for the rest of your days.

The few days you have left!

You should have paid the rent,
Monsieur Royal!

Of course, Monsieur Jujusse!

Have you thought about my rent too?

Why, Monsieur Jujusse?

Because two and two make four,
and I have no money.

You have to earn some!

How does one make money?

By working with your hands.

But I don't know how!

Then you must be an actor.

That's difficult!

In that case...

you should write.

Anything at all.

What are you doing?

Let me carry out my duty and I'll return.

Your friend here is ready
whenever you are.

Sir, listen please.

Speak, my dear.

What will you do to me?

We'll decide tomorrow.

We'll decide many things then.

I know something you don't know.

Someone here is breaking your rules.

Graziella has a photograph
under her pillow.

Give me the photograph.

Give it to me.

Give me the photograph!

Spare me, and I'll show you
what Eva and Antoniska do at night.

They're breaking your laws.

My love.

So, you bitches...

Don't kill me! I have secrets to tell you.

Speak, whore!

Every night Ezio goes to
the black servant girl.

I can take you there.

There they are.

Queers!

You're disgusting.

Those I have named
will wear a sky blue ribbon.

They can imagine what awaits them.

The others, as long as they cooperate,

may hope to come with us to Salò.

What have we done?
What will you do to us?

You'll soon see!

Now you'll understand
how serious your faults are!

To begin my story,

I have chosen a character

who has already appeared
in the previous stories.

A man of around 40,

tall, and endowed
with an enormous member.

He is also extremely rich,

very powerful, severe, and cruel.

With a heart of stone.

He has a house near Milan,

which he uses just for his pleasure.

He wants at least 15 girls
present at any feast,

aged between 15 and 17.

The girls chosen

must show themselves
completely nude to the libertine.

He touches them, fondles them,
examines them,

and gets each one
to defecate in his mouth.

He doesn't swallow.

Having carried this out
with terrible gravity,

He brands each girl on the shoulder,

burning a number into the tender flesh.

After these preliminaries,

he opens the window,

places a girl in the middle of the room,

with her face turned towards
the window.

Now he gives her
such a strong kick on the behind

that the poor girl

flies across the room,

through the window,
and vanishes into a dark cellar.

And click!

The circle of being.

Our man not only knows Nietzsche,

but Huysmans too.

A masked executioner
with the devil's emblems

presides gravely over
the horrible machines.

Once all the girls are gathered,

OUT man...

extraordinarily excited,

having had so much contact
without any release,

he's fully naked, his member
is almost glued to his stomach...

Everything is ready.

The machines are set into motion.

The tortures all start at once.

The screeches are terrible.

The first is a huge wheel
with razor blades,

A girl is tied to it to be flayed alive.

Another gets a rat sewed
inside her vagina.

Lord, why have you forsaken us?

It is not enough

to kill the same person
over and over again.

It is far more recommendable

to kill as many beings as possible.

Umberto, come here.

Good boy. You were ready.

Umberto, come here.

What does a Bolshevik do
when he dives into the Red Sea?

- I don't know.
- You don't know?

No, tell me.

He goes splash!

Poetry Corner.
Ezra Pound. From The Cantos.

From Canto 99.

The whole tribe is from one man's body.

What other way can you think of it?

The surname and the nine arts.

The father's word is compassion.

The son's, devotion.

Small birds sing in chorus. Harmony
is in the proportion of branches.

The gay face of spring
is set before the world.

The sharpness of winter
now flees defeated.

In various apparel Flora reigns.

And in the euphony of the woods

she is hymned in song.

- Can you dance?
- No.

Come on, let's try.

- What's your girlfriend called?
- Margherita.

THE END