Kaos

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Saro!

It's a male!

And he's sitting on eggs!

It's warm.

You're a male.

What are you doing?

Are you sitting on eggs?

This is a job for. . . .

Don't let him go!

He's biting me!

Emanuele! Liseo!

What are you guys doing?

Look at this.

A male bird that sits on eggs!

Shame on you!

Shame on you!

What kind of a male are you?

Oh, look at this male sitting on eggs!

A male sitting on eggs!

Shame on you!

Wait!

He who hits him, can keep him.

Shoot!

Shoot!

Missed!

I want to try.

Let me try.

Now it's my turn.

Oh, come on.

You're blind.

Shoot!

-What are you doing?

-Hey, Salvatore!

-What's wrong with you?

-What the heck is he doing?

Music!

Go.

"...therefore I am son of Chaos;

and not allegorically,

but in true reality,

because I was born

in our countryside,

located nearby entangled woods,

named Cavusu

by the inhabitants of Girgenti:

dialectaI corruption of the genuine

and antique Greek term Kaos"

First tale

THE OTHER SON:

Second tale

MOONSICKNESS:

Third tale

THE JAR:

Fourth tale

REQUIEM:

Epilogue

DIALOGUE WITH THE MOTHER

First Tale

THE OTHER SON:

"My dear sons,

it is your mom that is writing to you,

in your fair golden country,

from our weeping country.

Today, it's been 14 years

since you left.

And for 14 years your mother

has been aIone and waiting for you."

Did you write that?

Tomorrow, another group

of wretched people

will Ieave for the Americas.

And to one of them, the quickest,

the most Christian,

I will entrust this letter, my sons,

so that he can deliver it

to your hands.

From his eyes,

I will choose the letter-bearer.

Because it's from the eyes

that you recognize a man's heart.

I'm not someone

who can be fooled by words.

Maybe that's why they told you

that I went mad.

Do not believe them.

Believe, instead, in the words

that this good woman

is writing to you for me.

My dear sons."

You old mad woman! What do you

want to do to me? Take my eyes out?

No, for God's sake!

I envy your eyes

that will see my sons in Santa Fe.

Santa Fe?

I'm going to Boston.

It's better that way.

I wouldn't have trusted you.

Your eyes are too wily.

Good day.

Listen to everyone,

but talk to a few people.

Don't spend more than haIf

of what you earn.

Don't allow yourself to lend money.

Don't drink more

than two glasses of wine a day.

Be a man when it comes to women ,

but don't marry a foreigner.

When you wake up in the morning,

pray.

Let the dog go, Turiddu,

before I do it myself.

No!

Leave him alone.

It's the last day we spend together.

In American you say, "Women".

What?

I have been in America.

Donne, "women".

Bacio, "kiss".

Amore, "love".

That crow is a bad omen.

Stop it. Don't cry.

I'll be back.

I'll be back soon.

Stop it.

Salvatore, let her cry!

Because you won't come back.

Old man ,

don't believe your sons.

Mine have been gone for 14 years.

And they have forgotten about me

for 14 years.

I keep sending letters, calls.

And from them, not even one word.

Those who are leaving ,

please come over here for the count.

Oh, Doctor.

Are you leaving, too?

No, no. I wish!

Here. These are the last certificates

for those who are leaving.

Please give them to Antonio.

All right.

So, you have to be 10.

Let's see.

One, two...

...three, four, five, six...

Wait!

He's number six.

He's coming with us.

He only has the clothes he's wearing.

And the money.

Here it is.

No!

Not him!

Not him!

You are the right one.

I'll give it to you.

If I were a king,

here's what I'd do with these letters.

Those that go or those

that come from over there,

I wouldn't have them delivered.

This is in vain. You said it yourself,

you old mad woman.

And those that get over there,

they are cursed!

They never tell about the trouble

that you can find over there.

And like many hens, they call,

"Pio, pio, pio, pio,"

the chicks like you.

And they take them away.

Don't you ever write to me.

And all of you.

Forget us old peopIe who will sow

the fields on our own.

And forget your women

who will go bad.

Make way, Mose!

With this wheel, it's no use.

It's not possibIe to leave.

So? What's going on?

It will take at least three hours

to fix it.

Three hours!

Three more hours to spend together!

Three hours!

I will write it down again , wait.

Now it's illegible.

But there's nothing written in here.

There are only scrawls.

Nothing?

What do you mean , nothing?

I dictated it word by word myself.

I saw her writing it myself.

Can you read it?

There's nothing written

in Maria Grazia's letter!

Nothing!

What do you mean, nothing?

Just four scrawls.

Excuse me, Doctor,

but the ignorant one here is you.

It's you who can't read.

What are you talking about?

Maria Grazia wrote the letter

in "Americanese".

I'm happy.

My sons never forgot me.

My sons, Doctor, never forgot me.

Now I know why

they never wrote back.

They never wrote back because

they never received anything from me.

You hit me.

It's her who's been writing

my letters.

But I forgive her

because now I'm happy.

It's because you'll do me the favor

of writing a real one, sir.

I got it.

How do you dance it?

But I told you yesterday.

Like that.

-Is it really Iike that?

-Go on, go on.

In these years, I must have written

about 50 letters for her.

And half of them were real letters,

from her dictation

and with the right address

in Santa Fe.

It's all in vain.

They are rascals, those two sons.

Handsome.

If I remember them well,

really handsome.

Here, they were two lazybones,

and over there they've disappeared.

If that was my mother,

I'd drown you in your own water.

Why? Was I supposed

to force her eyes open?

You shouldn't have taken advantage

of a poor wretched woman

who doesn't even have air to breathe.

That woman,

she could live like a queen.

Comfortably seated and nursed.

At the hospice.

In her son's house.

If she wanted to.

But she doesn't want to.

What do you mean?

Has she another son?

That one.

There's no grass for grazing

over there.

But he brought his cows here

because he knew that his mother

would come here

for the caravan's departure.

Like he always does.

He follows her.

Why have you always hid

this other son from me?

You have to drink.

You need to.

Can't you see?

I'm in a cold sweat because

you mentioned that son, sir.

But why?

What has he done to you?

Oh, nothing.

He's good, respectful, honest.

Then I don't understand why

you don't want to live at his place.

Because I gave birth to him.

But he's not my son.

Do you really want me to believe

that you are truly mad?

Certain things,

you can't even imagine them, sir.

Because you're still a young boy, sir.

Drink. Drink.

It's good for you at your age.

What you mean, young boy?

If you don't tell me about this son of

yours, I won't write a letter for you.

Tie up a handkerchief

on top of the reed.

This way we'll be able to greet them

even when they are far away.

You weren't even in God's mind, sir.

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