Roma Page #6

you were a saint.

A long life to His Eminence.

How much time has passed.

Everything seems so far away,

so different.

I'm sorry to leave this life

in a city which is no longer home.

The Rome I knew was different.

People were nicer, more respectful.

Everyone knew everyone else.

Monsignors, cardinals, the Pope.

They were all either friends

or relatives.

Friendship with the church

has been lost.

The marvelous balls...

in villas and palazzos...

with all those cardinals dressed in red

wandering about the house.

It was like living in a painting

and at Christmas.

Now, why should I

suddenly remember that?

The little presents

Monsignor Altieri would give me.

Wax statuettes...

crosses out of woven straw

and a lot of velvet for the toy manger.

And all of it gone,

lost over the years.

Who knows where all those

little wax statues have gone?

The following presentation

of ecclesiastical fashions.

Welcome His Eminence

and our other illustrious guests.

Model No. 1:

habit in black satin,

along traditional lines, for novices.

The same model may be done

in another type of fabric...

such as silk or wool,

according to the season.

The boots are in leather and suede

in two colors.

Navy blue and black

for harsher climates.

Model No. 2:

tourterelles immaculees.

Starched cap with flexible wings.

Useful also for interiors

with poor air circulation.

Model No. 3:
little sisters

of the purgatory's temptation.

The world must follow the church

and not vice versa.

And now for the more casual models:

quicker to paradise!

Here you have Model No. 6

for country priests.

Sacristan variations

for first-class ceremonies.

The sacerdotal vestments

have passed through evolution:

Anitto, viviale...

"cotta, vianita" and "casula. "

All types of vestments are made today

of very light fabrics...

in the most brilliant colors,

which don't fade.

He's come back!

He's with us once again.

Our Pope! The Holy Father.

Don't ever leave us!

Don't ever leave us!

Come back, come back.

One, two...

three, go!

Balloons! Balloons!

All colors and shapes.

First he has a drink

before he eats an egg...

then he has a drink

while he's eating the egg...

and now he wants a drink

because he's eaten an egg!

Jesus!

Won't he get sick

from all those eggs?

Balloons for you.

For children and for grown-ups too.

- What the hell do you want?

- Go on, it's red!

They're makin' their movie

all over the place...

but not paying anybody.

This pork's from genuine Ariccia pig!

How 'bout a slice?

"Rooky" here! "Rooky" here!

"Leal" silk! "Pletty sirk scalf!"

"Pletty sirk scalf. "

Hey, Brit, they sell

pork sandwiches in Germany?

Aw, leave Grandpa alone!

Let him sleep. Why bring him along?

Hey, Torquato! Some gasoline!

Gasoline.

Antique paintings.

Fancy frames!

Very cheap!

I'm going back to the cemetery tomorrow.

Wanna come?

They gave him a nice spot, you know.

Really sunny!

Hey, deadheads! Where you going?

Why don't you come here and eat?

Hey, shorty,

where you gonna feed her?

Your wife! Well, come on over then

and buy her a decent meal for a change.

Checco! It stinks

like hell over here!

Did you have to give us a table

next to the manhole?

It's not true! That's the smell

of history, honey, centuries.

You sh*t! You sh*t!

I'll slit your belly open.

You always believe everything

that dumb b*tch tells you?

There! It's Gore Vidal,

the American writer. Let's ask him.

Good evening, Mr. Vidal.

Mind if we disturb you

for just two minutes?

Well, you ask me why an American writer

would want to live in Rome.

First of all,

because I like the Romans.

They don't give a damn

whether you're dead or alive.

They're neutral, like the cats!

Rome is the city of illusions.

Not only by chance, you have here

the church, the government, the cinema.

They each produce illusions...

like you do and like I do.

We're getting closer and closer

to the end of the world...

because of too many people.

Too many cars, poisons.

And what better city than Rome,

which has been reborn so often?

What place could be more peaceful...

to wait for the end

from pollution and overpopulation?

It's the ideal city for waiting to see

if it will really come to an end or not.

To the end!

Get out! Clear the piazza!

Why?

We weren't bothering anybody!

Hurry up! Move! Move! Move!

If you don't mind,

I would like to say this:

Despite the recent

and incredibly permissive laws...

which protect the guilty man

more than the innocent...

the restraining measures of

our police force are successful...

in keeping at an acceptable minimum

the outbreak of delinquency...

in a city, or in a society,

where protest movements, drugs...

and a desire for wealth...

are actually regarded

as legitimate goals.

They were minding their own business.

You have no right to beat them!

I'm a witness! Have you gone mad?

I'm a teacher, I'll have you know.

They've turned our piazzas

and monuments into a garbage dump.

Right!

All they think about is sex.

Don't worry, madam. They're not

really hurting them, believe me.

He's beating the hell out of him!

He's killing him.

- Hey, punchy!

- You clowns!

You fightin' or dancin'?

I think they're engaged.

You're nobody! You're nobody!

You're just a lucky son of a b*tch,

that's all!

He's a champion!

He could kill all of you.

He's a real champ!

The camera.

Somebody swiped the camera!

Somebody stole the camera!

This lady you see walking home along

the wall of an old patrician palazzo...

...is a Roman actress:

Anna Magnani.

In a way, she's a symbol

of the city itself.

What am I?

Rome:
She-wolf and vestal virgin,

noblewoman and fishwife...

somber and festive.

I could go on

until tomorrow morning.

You better go home

and get some sleep, Federico!

- Can I ask you a question?

- No, I don't trust you. Ciao!

Good night.

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