A Difficult Life Page #6

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What I'm doing?

Dancing a samba and a rumba.

- He's drunk.

- Tell him to come home immediately.

- Darling, I flunked. - That's not important,

come home, we're waiting for to you.

I'm not coming home. I am happy,

tell that to mother also.

You wanted to send me to Cant Cermenate,

but since they flunked me,

I'm staying in Rome,

and I won't come home anymore.

They flunked me,

I no longer have to go to Cant Cermenate.

- He stays there.

- What is this Cangaceiro?

It is a nightspot.

Wait her, I'll be back soon.

Over there.

You're a black person

of nearly one ton,

but you have fine feelings

and a delicate spirit.

Yet your ancestors were cannibals.

I have spoken to you about politics, art

and literature, and you understand me.

- Sure. - And my wife, who is more

white than that table cloth,

she has never understood me.

She the brain of a canary.

About what can you speak

to a canary about?

- I don't know.

- Sing me a song.

- No, I'm tired. - Come on

- I've been singing all the evening, I'm tired.

Do you know from where we know eachother?

Ragana, tell her.

From prison?

How funny!

Do you know what time it is? Nearly 4.

Do you know my friend Peter Sister?

And my friend Ragana?

He was in prison with me.

But who are you? Who do you know?

What do you want from me?

- Did your mother send you?

- She's waiting for us outside, in the taxi.

- Leave, I don't want to see you anymore.

- Where are you running? You're drunk.

You made me lose my job at the newspaper,

because my wage wasn't big enough.

Made me burn my novel, because you

didn't have confidence in me,

- and sent me to school like a deficient child.

- You had convinced yourself

No, you convinced me. And now that

they have flunked me, I'm content.

I have the entire novel in memory,

therefore I will rewrite it,

- even if it will take me two years of work.

- And what do we eat?

Bread and water like in jail.

If you don't want it, go back to your mother.

Unadventurous woman,

you have ruined my life!

Really? I gave you all

I had to make you study

and you say I have ruined your life!

Shall we examine our wedding?

Who are we? Are we relatives? No.

You're a stranger I met in a flour mill.

Stranger?

I ran away because we had

decided to live together.

To live together we must

have something in common.

- What do we have in common?

- First of all, a son.

Leave the child out of it,

I'm talking about ideas.

I'm a journalist and you don't

even read the comic strips.

I read you a novel,

and you fall asleep like a goat.

I love politics, and despite what

your hyena of a mother thinks,

that is the base of life and all things.

You don't care, because you think you're clever.

But you're not clever, you're ignorant.

If the atom bomb drops,

it will pulverize even you!

Because of this, we are two strangers.

If we have nothing in common, tell me what

has held us together all these years?

The feelings.

- What?

- The feelings, and that's all.

- You have lived with me, like you would

with a woman of the streets? - No.

- I didn't say that.

- Coward!

I saved your life, I have loved you,

without knowing who you were!

Now that you're drunk,

you tell me the truth!

- I don't want to see you anymore.

- What? - I'm leaving.

I'm leaving forever, and don't

expect me to come back.

And never again seek love and

understanding from me. Never!

How can I find love and understanding

in a woman who cracks the head

of a German with an iron?

I have made a single error.

I should have hit you with that iron instead!

- And not that German!

- Wait for me, I am on foot. - No!

I'm leaving you alone with

your ideas and your novels!

Find yourself another! I want to see

how you fare without me!

- Bye bye!

- I want to see! - Bye bye!

You will mourn having abandoned me!

You will repent this act!

One day you will want to talk

about Silvio Magnozzi!

Elena, turn back!

Bastard.

She has really done it.

Now I'm free and single.

- Lucky man! Tell me shepherd, are you happy?

- What do you want, drunkard!

It was in the days

of the military defeat.

I still wore my second lieutenant's uniform

and I roamed the countryside

under the rain.

Through a clearing in the fog,

a friar with an umbrella appeared.

He was old, but tall and sturdy, and

he walked with decisive, marching steps.

When the friar came closer to me,

I recognized him and got his attention.

Is that you, mr. general? Yes, he said to me.

And then he embraced me, crying.

Why are you dressed like a friar?

What are the orders?

Against who shall I fight?

I don't know, he answered me.

- From that time on, I had to make my own decisions.

- That is enough.

- One more page, Commander.

- Leave it, Magnozzi.

- We have read your novel. - For 6 months

I've been going from one publisher to the next.

My shoes are wearing out.

Everyone says it is beautiful,

but nobody wants to publish it. Why?

- Can I tell you my sincere opinion, Magnozzi?

- Please do.

Your novel is, from an artistic point of view,

mediocre, uninteresting.

It lacks style and form.

Nevermind style and form,

let's talk about the substance.

There is a generation ignoring

the facts I'm describing,

even though they must know them.

- Each and every page is a bomb.

- I don't doubt it, but listen to my lawyer.

This is an invite to desertion,

scorn against the Armed Forces,

- offenses against the Army

- Fascist Army!

Offenses against the magistracy,

critic towards the prison system

and offenses against religion.

- This has to be cut out. - I won't cut anything!

- I am ready to take the risk. Are you?

- I'm not.

- Then it is useless to talk to you.

- I don't want to end up in jail.

Ten years of my life is in this book!

- Try it on the movies. - Movies?

- Yes.

You will find allies there,

and they will pay more.

Get moving! Improvise!

Mr. Gassman, two words for RAI please.

- What are your thoughts about the crisis in cinema?

- There are no ideas or writers anymore.

Thanks.

Mrs., the cigarettes.

Good morning, mrs. Mangano.

I'm Silvio Magnozzi.

- I know, the one with the novel.

- You remember?

You phoned me at 3 in the morning,

imitating the voice of De Sica.

- But I don't answer even

De Sica at three! - I'm sorry,

but I've been trying to speak to you for

three months. Will you make a film based on my novel?

- I don't decide, director Blasetti does.

He's over there. - Blasetti?

- I'll speak with Blasetti, and phone you afterwards.

- Not at the three in the morning.

- Run!

- What has happened?

- Mr. Gassman. - See you later.

- Who is that? - Someone looking for money.

Legionaries!

Mr. Gassman, will you allow me?

- Good morning, Blasetti.

- Good morning.

- I'm Silvio Magnozzi, remember me?

- Be energetic with the horses!

Did you read my novel A difficult life?

Ah, A difficult life! Beautiful!

If you agree to direct the film,

I could sign the contract.

Oh! The horses!

Perhaps you could give me

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