Cinema Paradiso

1 GIANCALDO. SALVATORE'S MOTHER'S HOUSE. EXT/INT. DAY

The October sun slashes through the gray clouds, cuts across the

shadow towards the sea, along the coast where the new suburbs of the

city of Giancaldo have been built up.

Bright light streams through the windows, glancing off the white

walls in an almost blinding reflection. MARIA, a woman a little over

sixty, is trying to find somebody on the phone.

MARIA:

...Salvatore, that's right,

Salvatore. Di Vita Salvatore

...But, miss, what do you mean you

don't know him?!...I...Yes...

(She gives a nervous sigh.

She has dialed her way

through endless numbers

but still hasn't managed

to speak to Mr. Di

Vita. She finally heaves a

sigh of relief.)

...That's right, good for you!

Oh!...yes...And I'm his

mother. I'm calling from Sicily. Been

trying all day...Ah, he's not

there...But would you be so kind as

to give me...?...Yes...

(She nods at another woman

around forty sitting

nearby:
it is LIA, her

daughter, who jots down

the numbers her

mother dictates:
)

...Six, five, six, two, two, oh,

six...Thanks ever so

much...Goodbye. Goodbye.

She hangs up, takes the number LIA has jotted down, determined to have still

another try. LIA speaks to her as if she were a baby, to be more convincing.

LIA:

Look, Ma...It's useless calling him.

He'll be terribly busy, God knows

where he is. Besides he might not

even remember. Do as I say, forget

it...He hasn't been here for thirty

years. You know how he is.

MARIA pauses to think it over. The decision she has to make is important. Then,

stubbornly.

MARIA:

He'll remember! He'll remember!

(She puts on her glasses

and starts dialing

the number.)

...I'm positive. I know him better

than you do. If he were to find

out we hadn't told him, he'd be

angry. I know.

(She takes off her

glasses.)

...Hello? Good morning. Could I

please speak to Mr. Salvatore Di

Vita. I'm his mother...

2 ROME. STREETS. EXT/INT. NIGHT

It's late, but there is still traffic on the streets heading downtown.

Inside a high-powered car, a man around fifty is driving. It is

SALVATORE Dl VITA. Elegant, just growing gray, a handsome face

creased by deep wrinkles. His weary expression hides the determined,

sell-assured manner of the successful self-made man. He must be a

heavy smoker judging by the way he draws the last puffs on his

cigarette.

He stops at a red light. He stubs out the cigarette and rolls down the

window, as a little Fiat Uno pulls up alongside. A rock tune plays full

blast on the radio. SALVATORE turns instinctively to have a look at the

man at the wheel a BOY with a brush cut standing straight in the latest

fashion. He studies the Boy's expression with almost exaggerated

attention, but devoid of curiosity, coldly. The GIRL sitting beside him,

lots of curly hair, overripe red lips, returns SALVATORE'5 look,

provocatively. The BOY notices, turns to SALVATORE in a surly voice:

BOY:

Hey! What the f*** you looking at!?

Green light. The Fiat Uno shoots off, leaving a trail of music in its wake.

3 ROME. SALVATORE S APARTMENT. INT. NIGHT

The apartment is luxurious, tastefully furnished. There is no one waiting for

SALVATORE. Through the picture window on the terrace, the city can be seen

slumbering in the night. SALVATORE gets undressed on his way to the bedroom. He

moves quietly, as if to make no noise. He doesn't even turn on the light,

finishes getting undressed in the pale blue glow coming from the picture window.

A rustling sound, a movement on the bed, the voice of a woman waking up.

CLARA:

Salvatore...But what time is it?

She turns on the bedside light. It is CLARA, a young woman around thirty.

SALVATORE climbs in beside her under the covers, kisses her sweetly, then in a

whisper.

SALVATORE:

It's late, Clara. Sorry, but I wasn't

able to let you know I wouldn't be

corning...

(He fondles her, but he is

tired, feels like

sleeping.)

Go to sleep now. Sleep.

He turns over on the other side. CLARA shuts her eyes, is about to drop off,

but whispers.

CLARA:

Your mother phoned. She took me for

somebody else...

SALVATORE:

(Surprised)

And what'd you tell her?

CLARA:

I played dumb, so as not to

disappoint her. We had a nice little

talk. She says you never go see her,

and when she wants to see you she has

to come to Rome...Is it true?

SALVATORE doesn't answer. God only knows how often he's heard that question

before.

SALVATORE:

She phoned just to say that?

She reaches out to switch of the light, buries her head into the pillow.

CLARA:

She said a certain Alfredo had died.

And the funeral's taking place

tomorrow afternoon...

(A strange look suddenly

comes into SALVATORE'S

eyes. The idea of going to

sleep has clearly left

him. It's a piece of news

he didn't expect. That's

taken him off-guard. CLARA

would like to carry on the

conversation, but

sleepiness makes

it almost impossible. An

she can manage is one last

question in a faint little

voice:
)

Who is it? A relative of yours?

SALVATORE:

No. Sleep. Go to sleep.

She falls asleep in the dead silence of the night. SALVATORE is seized by a

sort of chill a deep, troubled feeling. He gazes through the window al the city,

with its shimmering lights still moving in the darkness, suddenly shrouded in a

heavy curtain of rain. But he gazes off, beyond the row of houses, beyond the

dark sky; the shadow of a wind chime plays across his face summoning up endless

memories, drawing forth from the infinite depths of oblivion a past that he

thought had vanished, been wiped out, and instead now re-emerges, comes back to

life, takes on light, superimposing itself on the mellow middle-aged features of

his face, in the shadow of the city shaken by the storm, until another image is

formed, an ancient, remote image...

4 GIANCALDO. CHURCH AND SACRISTY. INT. MORNING

An image from over forty years before. In the baroque church of

Giancaldo. SALVATORE is nine years old. Dressed as an altar boy, he

is kneeling by the altar with a little silver bell in his hands. The

congregation is also kneeling. The PRIEST is consecrating the Host.

Little SALVATORE has just got out of bed, is still half-asleep, yawns

and doesn't notice that the PRIEST is standing there with the Host in

the air glaring at him, as if trying to tell him something.

PRIEST:

Pss! Pssst!

SALVATORE finishes yawning and opening his eyes meets the

withering look of the PRIEST. He gets the message at once and

rings the bell. Now the PRIEST can carry on, lifts the chalice and

the bell is heard again.

Cut to:

The service is over. The PRIEST is in the sacristy removing his

vestments. And SALVATORE is also there, removing his altar-boy

tunic.

PRIEST:

But how can I make you understand?

Without the bell I just can't go on!

Always half asleep, you are! What do

you do at night anyway? Eat instead

of sleep?

SALVATORE:

Father, at my house we don't even eat

at noon. That's why I'm always

sleepy. That's what the vet says.

The PRIEST has finished disrobing. He takes the bell

SALVATORE was holding during the service and turns to leave.

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