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Don't you disgrace me.
I know your little tricks.
She's crying because her mother
was trying to protect her and fell in the river and drowned
just in front of this angel's eyes.
Are those actors masochists?
If I chose them, I would say they are.
Is sex politics?
Of course. There's nothing that isn't political.
When you release your latest film, The 120 Days of Sodom,
do you believe that it will scandalize again?
Well, I think to scandalize is a right.
To be scandalized is a pleasure.
And those who refuse the pleasure to be scandalized are moralists.
Why are you no longer a militant today?
In what sense?
You are no longer a militant today?
I am more than ever.
Do you miss the times
when people used to insult you in the street?
They still insult me.
Does it give you a certain pleasure?
I don't refuse it because I'm not a moralist.
What professional qualification do you prefer?
Poet, novelist,
dialogue writer, screenwriter, actor, critic or director?
On my passport
I simply put "writer."
"Dear Alberto",
"I'm sending you this manuscript so that you can give me some advice."
"It's a novel."
"But it's not written the way real novels are written."
"Its language is that of essays, of journal articles,"
"of reviews, of private letters, even of poetry."
"And here is the advice I am asking."
"Is what I have written enough to express,"
"in a worthwhile and poetical way, what I wanted to express?"
"I would like you to realise, in advising me,"
"that the protagonist of this novel is what he is."
"And aside from the similarities of his story to mine,"
"he is repugnant to me."
"This novel is not very useful any more in my life."
"It is not an announcement, 'Hey, man, I exist, '"
"but the preamble of a testament."
"A testimony of the little knowledge that one has accumulated,"
"and it is completely different"
"from what one expected or imagined."
Hello, Pierruti, how are you?
Good morning. I'm fine, thanks.
How was your trip?
It went fine.
- Graziella. - Yes.
You should read Sciascia's new novel.
Take it from my desk.
It's a great novel.
Thank you, I'll read it.
- Carlo Levi called to say hello. - Okay.
The director of La Stampa needs you to call him.
Fine.
I corrected, um, your speech for the Radical Congress.
- I put it on your desk. - Okay, thank you.
Neo-fascist gunned down outside party HQ. Friend injured.
Survivor accuses her slaughterers.
Man shot down by mistake outside his house
Leonardo Sciascia The Mystery of Majorana.
" Carlo was not the only powerful personage"
"to resign himself to this official celebration,"
"the goal of arrivistes, snobs,"
"secondary figures, functionaries, and bureaucrats with their wives."
"And he was not the only one to put a good face on bad luck."
"In the middle, there was the Head of State, The Still Engine."
"Also in democracy, the holy game of kings continues"
"and the ceremonial life of royalty"
"is a widespread protocol of the bourgeoisie."
"He enters, pure chaos surrounded him."
Recently I've been attacked by some journalists
tied to ENI!
- ENI? - Yes, ENl.
So many broken promises...
I'm trying to fill this void in my own way.
Please, reassure the Americans
our government is not planning any tax on oil.
Sure.
Believe me,
Vincenzo Cazzaniga now enjoys widespread appeal in the Vatican.
Therefore the Agnellis' capital will be repatriated through the Vatican Bank.
In my opinion, Andreotti is an honest man.
If he says not to worry about the Milan bombings,
then we don't worry about them.
Well, we agree.
" Narrative an', as you well know, is dead."
"We are in a period of mourning."
"Mine is not a tale, it is a parable."
"The meaning of this parable"
"is precisely the relationship of an author to the form he creates."
Narrative art, as you well know, is dead.
We are in a period of mourning.
Mine is not a tale,
it is a parable.
The meaning of this parable is the relationship of an author
to the form he creates.
Andrea Fago, "the man who eats,"
as usual, took the Alitalia DCQ, destination Cape Town,
on an ordinary spring afternoon.
There should have been
a few hours of a peaceful and wonderful flight.
First, Egypt-
With the Nile,
with its green trees,
with its palm trees and cereal fields,
and its dark ochre villages.
And then Sudan,
with its endless southern desert,
wonderfully pink.
The pink colour of this desert, I dare reiterate,
is really impressive.
But even more impressive is its immensity.
It is infinite and always the same
from Khartoum to Lake Rudolf.
What lends a foreboding feeling to that desert
is the fact that it's not a desert
but an enormous empty country
forgotten by God and by man.
And it was in the middle of that desert that the Alitalia DC9 crashed.
Everything I'm going to tell you
appeared not in the theatre of the world
but in the theatre of my mind.
It took place not in the space of reality
but in the space of my imagination.
Is finally resolved not according
to the contradictory rules of the game of existence
but to the contradictory rules of the game of my reason.
" Andrea Fago observed the men coming toward him,"
"ancient men whom he knew very well."
"He looked at them, rather recognised them in silence."
"Then his mouth widened in an extraordinary smile"
"which lit up his eyes."
"That smile, enigmatic because it was too profoundly human,"
"had its origin in the thought,"
"'The continuity between me and them"
"'which returns from them to me is broken."
"I am a form, the knowledge of which is illusion.".
This is the list of the interviews for Said.
Thank you.
Now, for the release,
the lawyers definitely want to open first in Milan.
They are convinced it is there we have the best chance
of overturning the censors.
Let's hope they're right.
Come on, be positive. Do you want?
Uh, a little, please.
Aunt Susanna, this was just sent me by Gaetano Perusini,
special for Pier Paolo.
Ah, from Rocca Bernarda.
And there's also Furio Colombo.
Yes, thaws for La Stampa.
For their new literary supplement.
They need it done very soon.
Maybe they can come this afternoon.
Okay, I'll call them.
And so, Graziella, what have you two been doing
these last few days?
We went to the pine grove out in Castelfusano.
A lovely place
with beautiful flowers.
And you, did you like Stockholm, Pierruti?
Yes, Mammetta,
but you and I could never live there.
What about the Nobel to Montale?
In Stockholm, I announced to everyone
they should've given it to Penna, not Montale.
By the way, how is Sandro? Have you seen him lately?
Sandro is sick and poor
and now he's complaining he can no longer chew his food.
I don't understand why
he doesn't want to wear his dentures.
He start calling here in the night
and talk and talk, talk...
Last time, Aunt Susanna just put down the receiver on the table
and went back to watching TV.
Instead, you should write down everything he says.
He's a great poet.
GRAZIELLA It's Laura.
Here she is.
Oh...
Hello, Susanna,
how are you doing?
Hello, my dear.
- How was your trip? - Good, yours?
Well, Zagreb,
your friend Jancso trying to kill us all the time.
He kept his shooting around the clock.
At the beginning, he tried to stop me from improvising,
but at the end,
he had me direct the orgy scenes, too.
And, oh, those socialist actresses. I love them. So professional.
They put haemorrhoid cream on their pussies
to hide the wrinkles.
Now I use it, too.
But here. Look here. Works great.
Since I don't have money for all the, you know, fancy cosmetics,
that's what I get. Mmm!
- Look at that! - Want some?
No, no, no. But, you know,
I missed Italian food so much in Yugoslavia.
The food is dreadful.
I don't know why communist men and good food, they don't get along.
Oh, Pier Paulo,
I got something for you.
Here, I hope you like it.
The traditional Croatian music.
And something for the girls...
- This is for you, my dear. - Thank you.
And, uh,
- Susanna. - Oh, thank you.
Now, this is the one. Yeah.
- Put it on? - Yeah. Hope you like it.
Want some wine?
Yes, I do.
Ah...
Now, you can put your jewellery.
Laura, is it true that you dubbed the devil's voice?
Yes, Your Graziella, I worked for the devil.
No Hollywood cinema.
Oh!
Isn't it great?
Honey, let me show you how communists dance.
- Oh, no, please. - Leave this. Now hold this.
I'll show you. I had good lessons.
Nice!
Come on...
She should put on more makeup, don't you think?
She's so beautiful.
Come on, Graziella,
come, come and dance with me. Come on.
Pasolini, you have launched a single-handed attack
on institutions, ideologies, individuals, forces.
To simplify the discussion, let's call this "the situation,"
the general state of affairs you're fighting against.
But let's say that your imagination
harbours some magical powers.
You could wave your hand,
and all of it would disappear,
everything that you hate.
What about here?
You wouldn't be left alone, without any means?
Yes, I see, uh...
These magic powers,
not only do I use them, but I believe in them.
Not because I consider myself some kind of sorcerer,
but just because I know that pounding away on the same nail
can bring down the house.
The few people that have changed history
are not the sycophants or the cardinals' retinue,
they're the people who said no.
Refusal has always been a crucial gesture,
but to be effective,
it has to be great, absolute, absurd.
Common sense never stopped this situation.
So, we have three questions.
What is "the situation,"
why should it be stopped or destroyed
and in what way?
Then, to describe the situation...
You're well aware that your writings, your language
have the effect of sunlight filtering through dust.
Beautiful, but hard to understand.
Oh, thank you
for the image of the sunlight, but I ask for much less.
I'm asking you simply to look around and see the tragedy.
What is the tragedy?
The tragedy is there are no more human beings,
there are only strange machines colliding into each other.
And this tragedy starts with the universal, compulsory,
perverted system of education that shapes all of us,
from the so-called ruling class right down to the poor.
It pushes us towards the arena of having things,
everything, at any cost.
That's why we all want the same things
and behave in the same way.
So, if I have access to a political committee
or inside stock information, I use that
or I use a crowbar.
And when I use that crowbar,
I work my violence so I can get what I want.
Why do I want it?
Because they have told me it is a virtue to want it.
I'm expressing my right, my virtue.
I'm an assassin and a good man.
But now,
people don't stop short of murder.
In this changing landscape, there's a death wish
that binds us together like brothers,
all caught up in the sinister failure of an entire social system
that produces a race of gladiators
that are trained to have, possess and destroy.
Then, you have us breed little shepherd boys
without education, ignorant and happy.
The way you put it, it sounds like nonsense.
Let me be frank with you.
I have been to hell,
and I know things that don't disturb other people's dreams.
But let me warn you,
hell is rising towards you.
It's true it comes under different banners and behind different masks.
We're all victims, and we're all guilty.
The urge, the need to swing a crowbar
to attack, to kill,
is powerful and it's in all of us.
But it will no longer remain just the private,
risky experience of those who, how shall I say it, uh,
have touched "the violent life."
Stop kidding yourselves.
You and your schools, your television,
your complacent newspapers,
you are the great preservers of this appalling tradition
that is based on the idea of possessing and destroying.
Then return to my original question.
With a wave of your hand, you abolish everything.
The education system, elected officials, television itself.
If you do away with all of this,
what will you have left?
Everything. I'll have everything.
Myself, my life, my life in the world,
saying, working, understanding, my books, my films...
I think I would make films even if I was the last free man.
Maybe I make films because I need to,
I like it, I feel like it, so I do it.
I either kill myself or I do it.
I, I make films...
That way, I express myself.
If my expression is alienated, so what?
At least I'm expressing myself as free as possible.
I don't want to talk about myself any more.
I've already said too much.
Everyone knows that I pay the consequences for my actions.
Maybe I'm wrong.
But I just want to say that we're all in danger.
If this is your view of life...
I don't know if you'll accept the question.
How do you plan to avoid the danger and the risk that you describe?
It's late, we should stop.
Perhaps you could leave the questions with me.
I think some of the points are flat. I'd like to think about them.
I feel much more comfortable writing than talking like this.
I can make some notes and get them to you tomorrow.
Do you have a title?
What about, "We're All in Danger"?
Closed?
No, no. I'm always open for you.
- Thank you. - Maestro.
- How are you? - I'm fine.
Where have you been?
- Stockholm. - How was it in Stockholm?
I was presenting my book, Gramsci's Ashes.
Oh, bravo.
Did you see what's going on out there?
Two guys were killed just around the corner.
One was a fascist and was just 16.
And to avenge him, they shot an innocent guy.
Rome is finished, my friend.
You gotta get out, move abroad.
What would I do abroad? I just cook spaghetti.
Do you know how many people
would be crazy for your food in France or Germany?
I'm sure,
with all that shit they eat!
Now, we have your nice steak and just a little bit of salad?
Fine.
- I'm waiting for Ninetto. - Okay.
"Dear Eduardo, here at last, in writing,"
"is the film I've been talking to you about for years."
"I entrust Epifanio entirely to you."
"Deliberately. As a forgone conclusion."
"You are Epifanio."
"The you of dreams, idealized but real."
"I hope with all my heart not only that you like the film"
"and agree to do it,"
"but you'll help encourage me to tackle such an undertaking."
The Messiah is born!
The Messiah is here!
What are you talking about?
Epifanio, the Messiah is born!
Everyone was saying, 'The Messiah is born.
'The Messiah is born.'.
Who told you that?
Everyone. 'The Messiah is born. The Messiah is born.'
You'll believe anything, but you don't hear right.
Once I asked you for anchovies and you brought back tuna.
The star. The Messiah is born.
The Messiah is born.
How beautiful you are!
Aldo, tell us.
I have some excellent pheasant!
I shot it myself. If the lady likes it.
Yes, okay.
Okay. Some wine?
- Yeah, yeah, yeah. - Perfect.
Beautiful smile. Beautiful smile.
There's the star. This is where the Messiah will be born.
Let's go!
Nice ass!
- Are you foreign? - Yes.
I can tell.
- Hi. How are you? - I'm fine, thanks.
Can I see your passport, please?
Give him your passport.
- Are you new in town? - Yes.
May I ask you something?
Do you like men or women?
Why do you even ask? Women.
What are you doing?
Let me give you some advice.
There's a special part of town just for people like you.
- Thanks. - You'll like it better.
Are you Roman?
I knew it. And him?
No, he's from here and there.
What about you?
- What? - Then why are you here?
I just do it for the money.
This is the most free city in the world.
The city of lesbians and gays.
And tonight is their big celebration.
- Do you want to come? - What's it gonna cost?
You're with me, it's free.
Come on.
What is this place?
The feast of the fertility.
This is an important feast for this city.
Here in Sodom, during the year,
the gays stick with the gays
and the lesbians with the lesbians.
But on this one day,
they come together to procreate the race.
And after today, they go their separate ways, the lesbians with lesbians
and the gays go back to...
- The gays go back... - To the gays.
Wait, don't open the door.
It's better to knock first.
Don't worry, this is the city of tolerance.
Dick, dick, fuck him good!
Pussy, pussy, fuck her good!
Ah!
Epifanio's spirit rises out of his body
because he's dead
and Nunzio is waiting for him and reveals that he's an angel.
Epifanio is happy about this
and Nunzio says, 'Let's go to Paradise.'.
So they start to walk,
they go up into the clouds and they leave Planet Earth behind.
They walk and they walk and they walk and they walk,
but they never get to Paradise.
Epifanio says, 'Where is Paradise?'
Nunzio says, 'It's over there.'
So they walk and walk and walk and walk,
they walk for a long time, but they never get to the place.
They're so tired, they have to stop.
Paradise doesn't exist.
Epifanio's taking a piss,
and then he turns back and looks at Planet Earth.
Sounds are coming from there. Faintly, far away.
Music, voices, pop songs,
advertising, revolutionary songs.
He looks back at Earth and he says,
'In the end, I'm happy that I followed that star,
'because it gave me the opportunity to know better
'the planet that I love so much.'
And then he turns to Nunzio and says, 'What next?'
And Nunzio says, 'The end doesn't exist,
'so we just wait, something will happen.'
I want to start filming as soon as possible.
I go.
Hey, Jack Palance, can I drive that thing?
You don't even have a license.
- Where have you been? - Far away.
Beautiful.
Did you steal it?
No, got it from a friend of mine, he brought it from America.
How are you doing tonight?
I can't complain.
- Are you hungry? - Sure.
Good evening, Maestro.
What can I get you?
Spaghetti and chicken breast for him.
- For you? - I had dinner already.
What would you like to drink?
A beer.
Nothing for me, thanks.
- Do you have a job? - Sometimes I work in a garage.
Really? Do you like it?
It's tough.
All day sanding and sanding.
You like cars?
- Yes. - What about mine?
It's nice.
Maybe I'll let you drive it.
I got a car,
but it needs a starter and I'm broke.
- Do you have a girlfriend? - Yes.
What do you do with her?
Do you like to go out dancing?
- Yes, she likes it. - I like it, too.
But it's too expensive.
You don't need money to dance.
You need money for everything.
Have you ever been in trouble?
What do you mean?
With the cops.
Fuck the cops. They're a bunch of shitheads.
Last time I was arrested, it was for some bullshit.
Good, right?
- Goodbye, see you soon. - Thanks.
Do you want to go to the beach?
Yes, but how long's it gonna take? I got to get back.
Don't worry,
I'll make it worth your while.
What the fuck are you doing?
Nice car, faggot! Is it yours?
What are you doing with your ass sticking out?
What do you think they're doing?
I'll tell you what the fuck they're doing.
Give me the money, asshole!
Oh!
- Give me that. - Look in the car.
Pick this faggot up.
Asshole.
Pick him up.
You cocksucker.
Faggot. Shit bag.
Cocksucker.
Fucking faggot.
Asshole.
How can it be possible?
I was sure it was here!
I was really sure!
What? Heaven?
Listen, I can't take it any more.
Like all stars,
the one I followed was bullshit.
But without the bullshit,
Earth, I would have not known you.
And now?
Nothing.
The end does not exist.
Let's wait.
Something will happen.
A PEOPLE OF POETS, ARTISTS, HEROES, SAINTS, THINKERS, SCIENTISTS,
NAVIGATORS, MIGRANTS
NOVEMBER 6th Dinner at Laura's