La Dolce Vita Page #5

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I know it exactly.

I like the three big escapes:

- Drinking, smoking and going to bed.

- And this is your wisdom.

You read my poems,

but you never understood me.

You are the true primitive,

as primitive as a Gothic spire.

You're so tall that you can't hear

any more voices up there.

If you could see my real height,

you'll see I'm not much taller than this:

- As primitive as a Gothic spire,

You're so tall that you can 't hear

any more voices up there,

If you could see my real height,

you'll see I'm not much taller than this:

Oh, this is an old recording.

I'm sorry, I'll shut it off.

What is it? Why can't we hear it?

I don't want to bore you.

They're just sounds.

They're nature sounds he's recorded.

- Tell him to play them, please.

- No, it's not worth it.

Come on.

If they don't interest you,

why did you record them?

Because I thought they were beautiful.

Do you really want to hear them?

I already know them,

they're extremely stimulating.

As you wish.

Birds.

That's exactly how they sound.

This is a forest.

What are you guys doing here?

- Why did you get out of bed?

- Excuse me a moment.

You'll get a cold with those bare feet!

He heard your storm and he woke up.

- You just wanted one more kiss!

- Daddy hardhead.

Daddy hardhead?

All right, everyone knows now!

- Daddy's hardheaded.

- What lovely children!

- Such intelligent eyes he has.

- Yes, it's true.

When one says something

that strikes him...

...first he thinks about it with a serious

little face and then he laughs cheerfully.

If you give him a flower,

first he looks at every part...

...then he laughs because

he understands that it's beautiful.

The same way you smile when

you listen to some good music.

Well, now, be good

and go back to sleep.

Then, I promise,

I'll come say good night.

- Now, say good night to everyone.

- Good night.

The girl is completely different.

She loves combinations of words.

A new phrase enchants her.

At times she invents beautiful ones

herself. I noted some of them.

For example:

"Who is the mother of the sun?"

It's really beautiful.

It's like a poet's phrase.

- And do they sleep with you?

- They'd like to, but we don't allow it.

At times, though, the little one

sneaks into our room...

...and jumps in bed

between his mother and I.

He takes her finger

and squeezes it really hard.

You can't imagine how sweet it is

to fall asleep with a child next to you.

Have you known Steiner

for a long time?

Yes, but we've only seen each other

three or four times. But...

Marcello, one day you too

will have a house like this.

We get on well together, don't we?

We're made for each other.

- Let me come here more often.

- I told you, you can come anytime.

What is it, Marcello?

I should change environment.

I should change many things.

Your house is a real refuge.

Your children, your wife, your books,

your extraordinary friends...

Me, I'm wasting time.

I won't manage anything anymore.

Once I had ambitions,

but maybe I'm losing everything.

I forgot everything.

Don't think that safety is being locked

up in one's home. Don't do what I did.

I'm too serious to be an amateur, but

not enough to be a professional. There.

A more miserable life

is better, believe me...

...than an existence protected

by an organized society...

...where everything is calculated,

everything is perfect.

Marcello, I can only be your friend,

therefore I can't give you any advice.

But if you want my help...

...I can have you meet an editor

who can give you a decent job...

...and give you the chance to focus

on what interests you more.

It's always better than writing

for those half-fascist papers, no?

Do you want to think about it

and discuss it later?

Yes.

Come.

Sometimes at night this darkness,

this silence, weighs on me.

Peace frightens me.

I'm afraid of peace more than

anything else. To me it seems...

...that it's only an outer shell

and that hell is hiding behind it.

I think of what my children

will see tomorrow.

"The world will be wonderful," they say.

From what point of view?

When a phone call...

...can announce the end of the world.

One should live outside of passions,

beyond emotions...

...in that harmony you find

in completed artworks...

...in that enchanted order.

We should learn to love each other

so much...

...to live outside of time, detached...

Detached.

I:

I can't spend my life calling you

on the phone!

I want to work in peace!

I don't know!

Miss, could you please

shut off that music?

No, I won't tell you where I am.

I don't know when I'll be back!

Go to hell!

Wretched madwoman.

Quit it with that little voice,

will you?

- Paola, this is broken.

- Go get another one, then.

- Are you having anything to eat?

- No. Yes... I don't know.

The food is good, you know.

- Is it difficult to type?

- Do you want to be a typist?

I'd like to.

- You're a pretty girl, you know?

- Pretty, you're exaggerating!

Come on, you know very well

that you're pretty.

- Okay.

- Paola, this one's broken too.

You're not from Rome.

Where are you from?

- I'm from Umbria, near Perugia.

- Why did you come here?

My father works in Anzio,

that's why I came here.

After Christmas, though, I'm either

going to Ostia or to Rome.

- Who is he? Your brother?

- No, he's my helper.

Wow, they treat you well here.

Well, yes, they treat me well,

but I don't like it much.

I can't wait to go home.

Sunday I saw a car

with Perugia license plates...

...and I felt so homesick

that I could've cried.

Let's see your profile.

- Why?

- Let's see it.

- But why?

- Come on, one second.

You look like one of those little angels...

...from the paintings

of an Umbrian church.

- They've already told you, huh?

- No.

Why are you laughing?

No reason.

- Do you have a boyfriend?

- Yeah, right, a boyfriend.

You're not writing anymore?

- Then can I turn the music back on?

- Yes, sure.

You want to throw out

this piece of paper too?

What do you want?

- Marcello, your father is here.

- My father?

- Over there. He said he was your father.

- Come on, don't joke around.

He's over there, eating at that table.

He's been looking for you for two hours.

Didn't he say he was his father?

Marcello, it's true,

he's at that table over there.

- Where?

- Next to the black man.

Dad. Dad!

Marcello! Finally.

I arrived in Rome this morning.

I looked for you everywhere:

At home, at work.

I was about to leave when a friend

of yours told me to wait for you here.

Yes, Paparazzo.

With my line of work, I run around

all day, Dad. I only go home to sleep.

How come you're in Rome?

To solicit that damn case

at the Ministry.

Everything gets shelved here.

Anyway, you look well.

- You look well too.

- I'm okay.

And how's Mother?

She gave me a letter for you.

She's well, but always worrying,

you know. She's always been that way.

And with age, these things get worse.

Here it is.

Poor Mother.

But really, you could

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