All language subtitles for Lucky.Luciano.1973.KINO.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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In 1946, the American justice system
gave a present to the Mafia...

Sent back to Italy, his home country,
Salvatore Lucania,

alias Charles "Lucky" Luciano,
the king of the New York underworld.

Sentenced to 50 years in prison in 1936,
by District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey

he was acquitted after nine years

for "special services" rendered
to the US Armed Forces

by the same Dewey, who had become
the new governor of New York.

How are you, Godfather?

Say hi to my hometown!

I guess we'll go.

Excuse me. I need the bathroom.

You can't know how I feel.

You're an asshole.

A toast to Charlie's health!

Champagne! Come!

One must always be on the side of power,

because it's the only way
one can achieve balance.

In the world we want,

a man, in order to be a man,
must be a man of order.

I'd even say a man of peace.

Five months after the death
of Joe Masseria,

on the night of September 11, 1931,

which became known as
the Night of the Sicilian Vespers,

40 crime bosses were killed from
one end of the United States to the other.

The strategy for decapitating
the old Mafia was Lucky Luciano's,

who thus became "the boss of the bosses."

Bitter Sicily
The blood you gave me is all red.

It's been long since I left as a boy.

So alone and sad.

All around the world.

Mama.

Your death.

Has broken my heart.

But, my homeland
You should not abandon me.

But should hold me in your arms.

Like Mama.

Friends, I thank you with all my heart.

I was a free citizen in America.

I'll be a free citizen in Italy also.

Although
I don't plan to stay there long

even if I have to get back through Mexico.

I trust you won't make me wait
another nine years.

This is $200,000.
If you need more, just say so.

What the fuck?

Let's not spoil the party.

I'm sorry. I can't drink.

- But you're Italian.
- Yes, I am.

It's okay. He's a paisan.

Yes, I am a paisan. My parents
are from the province of Avellino.

Can I do anything for you?

Your family is in Italy? I can visit them.

What can I do for you?

- Would you like a raise?
- Yeah, a promotion.

How can you help me
if you're being deported to Italy?

Don't worry about it. It's my business.

Hopefully.

Excuse me, Your Excellency.
I was running a little late.

You know, I've been busy.

- He's returned to see his native town.
- Yes.

It's her third son killed this year.

INNOCENT VICTIM OF
A CRUEL AND UNSCRUPULOUS HAND

THE FAMILY HEARTBROKEN WITH PAIN
THEY ARE IN TEARS

DEAD BY AN UNHOLY HAND
LEAVING A DESOLATE WIFE

HERE LIES ANTONIO GIARDINA

WHO SACRIFICED HIS LIFE
FOR THE WORKERS' CAUSE

AND FOR SOCIALISM

THE MORTAL REMAINS
OF CARMELO NICOSIA

INNOCENT VICTIM OF A CRUEL ASSASSIN
TWELVE DAYS OF CRUEL SUFFERING

KILLED BY A CRUEL AND UNKNOWN HAND
THE FAMILIES IN TEARS

AN HONEST AND HARDWORKING MAN
DIED TRAGICALLY

HERE LIES THE DEAR BODY
OF SALVATORE PUELO

DIED AT AN ASSASSIN'S HAND

You're Lucky Luciano?

Sir, you're not Italian?

Sort of.

Do you like Naples?

I like the sea.

Take a spaghetti to the American.

Salute the colonel!

Beautiful! Beautiful!

Hey, Jim, I don't like your friend.

Bring me another one tomorrow, okay?

My boyfriend will blacken my eyes
if I see another American.

Don't worry. They're always drunk,
and they don't want anything.

What I'd give for corned beef.

We've made one mistake in Sicily,
my dear Genovese. We were too soft.

You're right.

The colonel wants
the cooperation of all citizens

to end this scandal of the black market.

Severe penalties
will be meted out to the offenders.

Severe and strict rationing
will ensure fairness,

so that the aid that comes
from the American people

goes to the Italian people.

Viva America! Viva Italy!

Hey, what about these blacks?

Sell them with all their clothes.

Your statement is an attempt to blackmail
the people who you claim you help.

Gentlemen, here's Lucky Luciano.

I'm here. What do you wanna know?

Where were you all this time?
Did you escape from Italy?

Who gave you a passport?

Ah, what frenzy. One at a time, please.

Is it true you owned
all of Cuba's gambling houses?

Let's go sit down. I've prepared a table.

Mr. Lucania, today at the UN,
they're talking about you, about drugs.

The one that talks about drugs
is always the Narcotic Bureau.

And that "Asslinger."

Anslinger.

Harry Anslinger,
the head of the Narcotics Bureau.

"Asslinger."

He's German, protestant and a cop.

If a racketeer is mowed down,
it's Luciano's fault.

If the Queen of England leaves
her husband, it's Luciano's fault.

If at a party, people have fun,

and there must be,
how you say in Italian, "stupefacente"?

Yeah.

And they point to Luciano.

But by now, Luciano and drugs
stand for the same thing to everybody.

I don't take any.

Yeah, but the scandal is in every paper.

Mr. Lucania,
they talked about it in the Congress,

in the US Senate.

It's politics.

In America,
they need to elect a president.

Dewey, a Republican, is the best man,

so the Democrats dug up the story
that it was he who pardoned me.

He pardoned you for helping the army.

Is it true that in 1943, they parachuted
you in to prepare the invasion?

I've never seen Sicily from above,
never crossed over to it in a plane.

I go there occasionally by ship,
just to Palermo,

where I have a candy factory.

Right. Filled chocolates.

The comfits.

And I soak in the sun, like in Capri.

And the contraband?

Since your return,

Sicily has become the headquarters
for contraband cigarettes.

Look.

I smoke the cigarettes
of the state monopoly.

And I think I'm the only one in Naples
who doesn't smoke contraband cigarettes.

How about you? What do you smoke?

They have no evidence against me.

If there was even an inch of proof,
I'd be in jail in the blink of an eye.

Why hasn't the US
asked for my extradition?

I'd be ready to go back,
even in handcuffs,

and defend myself.

Even in handcuffs?
You want to go back to America?

You were born in Italy.

I came to America as a young boy.
I lived there for 30 years as a free man.

I was unjustly condemned by the false
evidence of pimps and prostitutes.

No respect for the rules.

But here in Italy, it's all persecution.

There are no rules.

Here they don't even know what bail is.

You already had some convictions, though.

Penalties.

Because I didn't stop at traffic lights
when I was carrying whiskey.

- It was during prohibition.
- Prohibition!

Another story of Jesuits like Asslinger!

People wanted to drink.

And someone had to give them
something to drink.

If it weren't for us,
what would the government have done?

Eh. You performed a public service.

Yes, we performed a public service.

That's why we gave all of our support
to Roosevelt.

He knew that a lot of things
had to be changed.

That's why in Chicago
we gave him our vote.

You liked politics then? But not in Italy?

This is a poor country.

What kind of politics can you do
without business?

Why, Mr. Lucania,
do your affairs in Italy go wrong?

With my candy factory in Palermo alone,
I've lost $10,000.

How do you manage to live?

You spend lots of money.
At the racetrack you bet enormous sums.

I already explained this
to the Department of Finance.

I received a little help
from my friends in New York.

Even my car is a gift from them.

I'm not a rich man.

What about your living expenses,
the bodyguards?

What bodyguards? The police
don't lose sight of me for a minute.

Of course. You move around a lot.
Rome, Milan.

They even gave you a passport.

- You go abroad.
- Excuse me.

I'm a free man.

The American government has pardoned me.

Anyway, when I go to Capri,
there's the head of Interpol.

He looks after my security.

Why, you mean that someone like you,
like Lucky Luciano,

in America would be left on the loose?

I can return to America
with my head held high.

And there I must return.

And as for my death,

I've already bought my family vault
in Brooklyn.

Stick it up your ass.

And I don't care for whores.

Whore?

One is a thief and the other a thug!

Cheers.

They're here.

Fuck you, Lucky.

One moment. Take this to my room.

You think you would've been a master?

You know I don't like to travel.

Even in America,
I didn't move around much,

except to go to Florida in the winter
for a vacation.

Always well-known places.

Here too, always in Naples.

Sometimes in Sicily

with my people.

Or Milan for the horse racing.

My friends usually visit me
for pleasure...

...not to do a job.

But for the tourism.

"I've been rotting in jail
for three months,

not even a window, just an iron grate.

No air and no light.

The heat and mosquitoes eat me alive.

There are six in here, and we must
all go to the toilet in the same place.

It's a cesspool here night and day.

There's no room to move,
and we can't even sleep in peace

because one must stay awake
to keep the rats off,

which are starved
and big enough to attack us.

The bedbugs are as big as cockroaches.

I must pay to have a little water
and some straw to lie on.

It cost me $50
just to send you this letter.

Yours truly"... Etc., etc.

Here in Italy, you're born in poverty.

But you know, even in Italy,
you can do big business.

I tried to do some business with Gene.

But what we need is a man like you.

Listen to me.

If you want to go to the opera
at San Carlo theater,

to the horse races at Agnano hippodrome,

if you want to have fun, here I am.

But I don't do business.

Here, another letter from Gene.

This one's about you.

About Joe Picci and Frank Calace.

This letter can ruin you.

I'm supposed to give it to Siragusa,
but I'm giving it to you.

You must trust me.

Go on. Tear it up.

You're supposed to give it to Siragusa?

Then that's what you'll do.

The arrival order is the following:

First, number 1, Mister Chips.

Second, number 2, Moliserno.

Third, number 4, Pinecone.
Fourth, number 5, Golden Parable.

The odds on the seventh race.

First, horse number 6, Mister Chips,

Second, number 2, Moliserno.

Third, number 5, Golden Parable.

Fourth, number 4, Pinecone.

Winning: 22.
Ranked placed: 12, 13, 17.

Coupled bet: 31. Simple bet: 40.

Want to bet with me?

Thanks, but I prefer to bet alone.

Don't move.

What the hell are you doing?

Just one word.

All right, Charlie.
But then what was that slap about?

International organization,
drugs, killers...

All this we already know.

But the evidence is different.

This man never leaves Naples.

He goes out in the morning,
walks his dog, then bets on a few races.

Now, after what you said,
we'll try to make the races off-limits.

He's nice to everybody.

He gives to charity.

He's liked by sympathetic reporters
and even some policemen.

And when I mentioned his past
to a police chief,

I happened to get this reply,

"Yeah, we know that he was convicted
of incitement for prostitution."

But what kind of crime is that?

If a woman prostitutes herself,
she's a whore.

And we can't arrest a man
for a crime from 20 years ago.

"But if he commits a crime in Italy"

certainly.

If he is the brains behind all this,
one must admit that he is brilliant.

One thing is for certain,

ever since Lucky Luciano
has returned to Italy,

the Mafia controls the entire drug trade

which is now worth
several hundred million dollars.

So why don't we arrest Lucky Luciano?

From the files of a special parliamentary
commission on the Mafia in Sicily.

In October 1957, in the city of Palermo,

a series of high-level meetings took place
between American and Sicilian mafiosi.

The presiding chairman was Lucky Luciano.

The purpose of the meeting
was to enhance Sicily

as a transit area for drug trafficking
directed to North America.

Giuseppe Bonanno,
alias Joe Bananas, born in Sicily,

American citizen,
head of the New York syndicate,

has come to Palermo to sign an agreement
between Cosa Nostra and the Sicilian mob,

as well as to set the groundwork
for the Mafia summit

which would take place a month later
in the Appalachian mountains in New York.

The Sicilian boss, Giuseppe Genco Russo,
participated in the gathering in Palermo,

to guarantee compliance
with the pacts and order

in the ranks of the island's traffickers.

Nine years later,
17 suspected Mafia bosses

appeared in front of a judge,
accused of forming a criminal association.

But only five were convicted...

Camillo Garante, Giuseppe Scandariato,

Giuseppe Genco Russo,
John Bonventre, Joe Bananas.

A hundred years of good health!

Boys, let me through.

Didn't you come inside?

- Did you hear the mass?
- I heard it from here.

Inside, I was too much of a distraction.

But you need to see the priest.
Otherwise, it doesn't count.

It's like I'd seen him.

Don Ciccio, you love me.

You don't ask me too many questions.

And after the death of Igea...

I need people like you nearby.

Listen, Lucky.

Between charity and the hospital expenses,
I'm drowning in debt.

Some friends would let me import
some German machines.

Like they have in the bar.

They say if you put in 100 lire,
you get out 1,000. Or even 5,000.

What do you think?

Don Ciccio, I've been in America.

Forget the machines.

It's not the thing for you.

Who is it?

The police. Open up.

Is Salvatore Lucania in?

He's inside lying down.

Tell him we need to speak to him.

Come in.

He's waiting.

Good evening. We have a search warrant.

Is that boy with you?

Yes, he's one of our agents.

Can I offer you a whiskey?
Would you like to have a drink?

No, we don't drink on duty.

Then go ahead, search.

You want to bet I find something
right away?

And this?

I have a license.

What's your name?

Marshal Schioppa.

You're a smart guy.

I'm taking this telegram.

If you want.

But you also need to come with us.

The Finance Inspector wants to see you.

At this hour?

Yes, at this hour.

Well, what does this telegram mean?

I've been telling you all night.

What else can I say?

Tell me again.

Now let's read the report.

"My connection with the American writer,
Martin Goesh, presently living in Madrid,

was for the sole purpose of his writing
a script based upon my life.

He telegraphed that
he was flying into Naples today

to turn over the script to me.

"The script has my approval, but
I want to withdraw it from circulation."

Is this true?

Fine. Tell us everything you did yesterday
after receiving this telegram.

Ask him.

He was glued to me all day.

It's better that you tell us.
Let's start again.

"On the 25th of this month at 1:00,
I went out to the California restaurant

and I ate with a friend,
Giuseppe Di Giorgio, who lives in Naples

after having escaped from Cuba
where he was a croupier.

While eating, my friend Francesco Cimone,
aka Cico, came in,

who owns a club in Taormina.

Cico just came back from Spain,

"where he had gone together
with Mr. and Mrs. Rubino of Miami."

Your friends like to travel.

And coincidentally, the tourism boom
between the US, Naples and Sicily

broke out
since you established yourself in Naples.

Now, then,
it's the popularity of bullfighting.

From Cuba, from Taormina, from Miami...

Everybody passes through Spain
and then meets up with you in Naples,

and then it's back to New York.

Is that so?

If you say so.

"It was 2:00
when I left Cico at the California

who was about to go back to Sicily by car,

and I went to Agnano for the races.

At the hippodrome,

"I met my friend Pasquale Eboli,
alias Pat Ryan."

Eboli lives in Scisciano,
a village nearby.

He comes often to Naples.

It's only half an hour.

And he too is going to Spain,
to make a movie.

So they call him Pat Ryan,
as if he were an actor.

Siragusa always says that the milieu
of drugs is like that in filmmaking.

Siragusa is a bastard.

Siragusa loves you.
He always speaks of you.

Siragusa is a bastard.

You can tell him from me.

Siragusa looks like you,
talks and acts just like you.

Between him and you, we haven't
had peace in Italy for ten years.

You mean because he's Sicilian,
he's like me?

Just like

the chief prosecutor
of the Republic at Palermo, Scaglione.

Just like

the chief of police, all Sicilians.

And me, like a lot of people,

I'm a peaceful man and bother no one.

It's only that bastard
who puts these things in your head.

And yet he was right about the Canapa
brothers. We caught them red-handed.

And soon we'll also get
those who are in Spain.

And before long,
you too will be in the net.

It's all a plot of Charlie Siragusa.

The Canapa brothers
were arrested three months earlier.

But the judge in Rome freed them.

I had nothing to do with it.

But your partner, Antonino Sorci, did.

We have documents.

They created a financial company together,
in Rome.

Proof, you need proof. You need
a notary to form a company in Italy.

We found that notary.

The same one you used in Palermo
to buy the Orleans park,

together with Sorci and Mancino.

Is it a crime now to buy a little land?

More than 160,000 square meters!

And all of it land for development,

including permits
from the city of Palermo.

If the City of Palermo gives permits,
it means it's legal.

Also the university was one of the buyers.

As well as a few
Christian Democrat politicians.

Things have changed, Lucky.

If you still count on political support,
you're gravely mistaken.

What politics?

Here, I don't even know
the chief of the traffic cops.

In America, I did politics.

But face to face with President Roosevelt.

Never mind President Roosevelt.

And let's return to your friend,
Pasquale Eboli, eh?

"Eboli in New York owned
a barbershop with his brother

and some other business,
what kind, I can't recall now."

Do you remember
what kind of business it was?

"Pasquale Eboli told me
of a factory producing Formica

and wanted to set up
a chain of stores in Italian cities.

While Cico Cimone spoke of setting
up a club in Rome with the Rubinos

who had returned from Miami
with the earnings of their business.

"What kind, I can't recall now."

Let me see if I can help you out. Eh?

Could it be like that factory you set up
in Palermo in '46

with your pal Vizzini... Don Calò...

Dismantled in one night and disappearing
with three tons of comfits?

Or maybe canned sardines?

Like that of Nick Gentile, eh?

Or a cheese factory?
Like with Carlos Marcello in Tunis?

Or like the tomatoes
for the Mamma Mia Importing Company

of Joseph Profaci in New York?

Or maybe a factory for bouillon cubes?
Vegetable bouillon for export.

Like the one of Frank Coppola in Pomezia?

From there, they were shipped to Sicily
in crates crammed with heroin.

You think I'm stupid, Lucky Luciano?

We've arrested 40 people here
and in America.

We caught them with both money and drugs.
All of your friends.

Only three escaped to Spain,

because the American justice system
let them out on bail.

A fine system that country has.

Since then, you receive calls or telegrams
from Spain every day...

From Madrid or Barcelona.

And then they meet you "by chance"

at the races or in restaurants,

to talk about Formica,
dancing halls or horses.

What is it? Hey.

What's with you? You feel sick?

You want a coffee?

I don't drink coffee.

I don't smoke anymore.

Give me a glass of water, please.

Get him a glass of water.

Some old scars from your friends, eh?

No, not from friends.

From cops. The New York policemen.

Anyway, it's not the scars.

I've plenty.

I've had two heart attacks.

Can I go to the toilet?

I'll go with you.

Once, in America,
you gave a certain address,

and the police found a package of heroin.

That time, I told them what I knew.

Today, I don't know anything.

You can talk to me.

I have my own ideas about you.

And they're a little different
than Siragusa's.

It'd be worth it to you.

It'd be worth it to you.

And your career.

To you

to Asslinger, Siragusa,
the generals, the police chief.

And it's worth it to the politicians,
to distract the people,

who know nothing
and will never understand anything.

Politicians, when it suits them,
also use criminals

and, as you say, the mafiosi.

Sorry, but I can't be of any help.

Make him sign it and then take him
to the airport to pick up that American.

And then do we arrest them both?

If you find drugs.

If not, seize the script
and send it to Siragusa.

Ah, finally.
You're entirely different now.

You seemed dead before.

Look at yourself.

Stand back.

- Who are you?
- Police.

Get a doctor.