MIMI THE METALWORKER
WOUNDED IN HONOR
Workers! Do you know who Carmine Cannamozza is?
A son of a bitch.
Anyone Iacking in respect for Mr. Carmine Cannamozza...
shows a Iack of respect for Don CaIogero.
Remember that tomorrow when you go to vote.
Cannamozza's Iot were campaigning at the pit.
Hang on and we'II discuss it outside.
Mimi!
I found a butt. Can I smoke it?
You'II bIow us sky-high in this suIfur. I'II take it.
Don't you trust your own brother?
AII right.
This one's yours... and this one's mine.
We'II smoke them together.
I'II teach you aII you need--
Well?
Forget it. I don't want to vote for him...
but I don't want troubIe.
They scare you into submission.
Vote how you Iike. What's there to Iose?
My job.
At the pit? With the wage they give you?
Call that a good job?
- No. - So?
You're right.
Screw it.
You're a stupid, ignorant, arrogant animaI.
Secret ballot, here?
They know everything down to the hairs on our bums.
Six votes were promised, six votes is what they get.
Your father's a man of honor.
He keeps his word.
Want him dead in a ditch...
his guts in his hands, his ears round his neck?
Judas!
It's the temperature you Iike.
You burnt me, you ugly old moron.
But what's all this spring cleaning anyway?
Do you need clean feet to vote these days?
Who did you say we vote for?
Idiot. Don CaIogero's been teIIing us for months.
Cannamozza's his man.
So he has to be our man too?
Sure.
No, thanks.
- Why? - Can't stand him.
You're not marrying him. Shut up and vote.
Nice, eh?
Say you Iike it.
Quiet. They'II hear.
Who, for God's sake?
They're out cold.
Rosalia, you're a wife.
You've got to do your bit. Say something.
- Say what? - Whatever you Iike.
That same scared expression.
Like a Iamb to the sIaughter.
You put a man off.
Where's this kid of ours? It's aII your fauIt.
- You should see yourself. - Don't look, then.
Want me to make Iove to the piIIow?
It's Iike it was a chore.
Do something. Talk. What sort of woman are you?
I'm embarrassed.
That's right. Turn on the waterworks.
Get stuffed, then.
And you're not to vote for Cannamozza.
Don't Iet Don CaIogero's Iot frighten you.
They're there just to scare us.
It's a secret baIIot.
Vote for the Left. No one will know.
Secret?
Top secret.
Carmelo Marzucheo.
My respects.
This is to inform you...
that there's no point going down to the pit...
since there's no work there for you, and never will be.
It's finished between you and us.
Why?
I know why...
you know why...
and God knows why.
Didn't you say it was a top secret ballot?
Well, obviously it wasn't.
No work for me.
There's no work around.
And his mother's a stinking whore!
Mimi, what's up?
I won't even get hired to cIean stabIes, that's what.
I'm a marked man.
There's no work for me and there never will be.
I'm going to Turin.
- Ignore them. - Bunch of haIf- wits.
I'II get you a job on a site.
They won't take me. So, too bad. I'm off.
In Turin, they pay workers. They treat them right too.
They're free and respected.
But you're Ietting them win. Stay here and fight.
No way! I'm off to Turin.
There's no Mafia there. Not one of the bastards.
Let's get one thing straight.
Anyone in a political party or a trade union?
No, sir.
Good. Because if you're after sick pay, award wages...
I can't heIp.
I can onIy heIp men who need work...
without shit-stirring.
So, you start at 6:00 tomorrow morning.
You'II get doubIe what you get in SiciIy...
for a day's threshing.
500 Iire an hour. Cash in hand.
And if you haven't got a bed...
there's one at the Trinacria Boardinghouse.
200 Iire a bed.
Here at the Sicilian Brotherhood Association...
we're all friends and brothers.
But you do as we say and keep your mouths shut.
Keep your mouths shut, right?
Because I'm doing you a favor.
And if anyone should treat me discourteously,
I wouId be very upset.
Got it?
- Take them away. - Come on. Let's go.
Start taking their names.
Move along there.
Listen, comrade. In Turin, you wear a newspaper hat.
Relieving yourself?
Think we pay you to piss?
Piss on your Iunch break.
Move it, boys.
- We can't even piss-- - Ignore him.
- The bastard. - I'd Iike a piss myseIf.
On his head.
A fall!
Nicola!
- Is he hurt? - He Iooks dead to me.
Damn it to hell.
Give him a hand.
That's it, boys. Work's over. Back to town.
Come on. Move!
AII those from the boardinghouse, out!
Don't bother rushing. I'd say he's dead.
- Who brought him? - What the-- Hey!
I was in here when you drove off.
What the hell's he doing in there?
Come on. Get out of here.
- What are you doing? - He was working illegally.
Is it our fauIt he feII off the scaffoId?
Bring him out. We don't even know his name.
I do. NicoIa Sperero. And who'II feed his famiIy?
Do you take us for a charity?
Bring him out. No one's coming.
No, you don't. There's his family to think of--
You're done for.
Get rid of that stiff.
Watch out!
There'II be no bed for him tonight.
Grab the IittIe bastard! He's not to get away.
Watch it. I'm not Iike NicoIa.
- If anything happens to me-- - Where do you want him?
I'II fix him.
Okay, you filthy little runt.
So what are these threats?
Did you tell the union?
No, I wrote to my wife, registered, express, and aII...
with your names, the Iot.
Did you now? He wrote to his old lady.
That wasn't very sensible, son.
Your threats go in one ear and out...
I won't say where.
With all this traffic, road accidents...
a Iot of things can happen these days.
Seeing you wrote to the wife...
I'II remember to send her a wreath.
Take him away.
CarefuI. My wife is CaIogero Liggio's godchiId.
If I come to any harm, she'II teII his boys...
to Iook for SaIvatore Tricarico.
Liggio from Corleone?
His cousin.
Let him go.
Tell me something.
What's a relative of the Liggio family doing...
coming up to Turin Iike this?
I didn't want to put anyone out.
But now, under the circumstances...
Very well, then. I'll believe you.
But you could've said who sent you.
Salvatore Tricarico always respects the Liggio family.
Unfortunately, I wasn't acquainted with you.
So I kept my distance.
I'd have heIped out with whatever you required.
Well, if it's not too late...
I couId use a nice job with PireIIi, or Fiat.
With Pirelli or Fiat--
And I took him for a haIf-wit.
AII right, despite your idiotic behavior...
I'II beIieve you.
I'II trust you.
AII right, you'II get your job.
You have Salvatore Tricarico's word.
But if you're having me on...
you'II be in shit up to your neck, boy.
"Dear wife...
This is to tell you I'm in a factory now.
And I'm CarmeIo Marzucheo, metaIworker now.
A whole different ballgame.
It's IegaI, with sick pay, awards-- too good to be true.
At first, I did feeI a bit Iost in aII this hubbub.
Then I reaIized everyone here is from down our way...
and more Iost than I am.
Believe it or not...
it took a week to meet a reaI IocaI.
They're good people too...
and my new friends here have taught me a Iot...
about work and politics."
Politics isn't something you put in a box.
Politics is everyday life, everything you do.
Buying a pair of underpants is politics.
You're making a choice.
If it's right, you heIp everyone.
If it's wrong, you heIp the bosses screw us.
Got it?
"I can see my father's face...
but it's better to hear it from me than someone else.
I've joined the trade union. And the Communists too."
I knew it!
He's got in with those bandits.
He'II Iand in jaiI. Communist! Turd, more IikeIy.
What's going on? Who's this trade union?
Subversion, that's what.
- Right, Cicciuzzo? - Right. He'II Iand in jaiI!
- Let me see. - Leave me alone!
Shut up, all of you. Let me read it.
"Dear wife...
As for your idea of coming to join me...
I have to say no. Lodging's expensive here.
Especially for us Southerners.
These sons of bitches consider us animals.
I've got a furnished room. It's a sad Iife.
No place for a wife."
Hey, Latin Lover! Ready for the orgy?
Move it.
"Love and kisses, your husband, Carmelo."
They pick you up at the station...
and put you in dormitories, Iike pigs in a sty.
They pay you a pittance because you're desperate.
If you have an accident...
they dump you Iike a dog.
I witnessed it.
This sort of thing must stop.
25,000 construction workers don't have any protection.
We must put a stop to it.
No more day Iabor.
We must expose the exploiters, but to do that...
we need names.
And the poor workers are too scared to name names.
Fear's a drug.
You don't see what's there, you see what's not there.
Just a moment. Quiet!
Carmelo Marzucheo is one of us.
And he wouldn't be too scared.
This Sicilian Brotherhood Association...
Who's the head of it?
Who's behind it all?
His name.
His name's--
I'm afraid I don't know.
The skunk never gave any particulars, otherwise--
I'm sorry. I can't teII you anything.
Those sons of bitches. One even had a knuckleduster.
They really scared me, you know. The cowards.
Want some? I'm starving.
They beat us up Iast week too.
We called the cops, but no go.
They ran off. No one ever showed.
Cops try and avoid trouble.
Besides, I reckon they're gIad to see us beaten up.
What a hide!
Know what one of them said to Violetta's face?
"Don't sell political papers, sweetheart. Sell chestnuts.
Stay out of trouble."
My name's Fiore. What's yours?
Marzucheo, Carmelo.
What sort of name's that?
It's after Our Lady of CarmeIo...
but my friends call me Mimi.
Mimi? Why not Lucia di Lammermoor?
What's so funny?
Nothing.
What a face!
Are you offended? TypicaI bIoody Southerner.
I'm not offended.
But don't call me that, Miss.
AII right, aII right.
But aren't you one of us? A comrade?
What's this "Miss" business?
Good breeding. But if you'II aIIow me...
Fiore...
Are you a comrade?
Sure thing.
But I have my opinions. I was a Trotskyite.
Sorry?
A Trotskyite. Left of the Left.
There's nothing Left of the Left.
The true Left is the 8 million workers of the PCl.
Bless you!
The way you said "PCl" sounded like a sneeze.
Anyway, I'm nothing just now. In no party.
I'm waiting. Waiting for something to happen.
With one Iot into bombs, another into banning work...
we're all on the Left...
but we squabble among ourselves like enemies.
I guess I'm a simpIe girI Iike my grandma.
She was a peasant.
But I've got to make up my own mind, see?
Man mustn't exploit man.
That's the core. As for the rest...
we've won a few things off the bosses in 100 years.
I don't beIieve Russia wiII end up Iike America...
with everyone stifled by industry, machines, like here.
I don't beIieve it. What about you?
Me? Well, to be honest...
I wouIdn't know.
So I said...
"I'm not staying here, Mum. I'm not ending up like you.
I'II take what IittIe I've got...
and split to Milan to live my life."
Did you Iive it?
Sure thing! Zilch. I ended up as a salesgirl.
I'm hopeIess.
Anyway, it didn't Iast. Just Iisten to this.
This asshole of a supervisor calls me in...
and sees Mao's book in my bag. The red one.
He grabs it, closes the door...
and whacks me on the bum, the dirty Iecher.
Then the slimy bastard says...
"Put out for me, baby, or go. No anarchists allowed here."
No way. I brained him and scrammed.
What a beautifuI pIace.
It couId be Hyde Park. The perfect pIace for a crime.
A place for-- What are they called?
Sex fiends.
What's up with you? You're giving me the creeps.
You Iook Iike you've got a gut ache. Have you?
Must've been that cold beer...
- It's your fauIt. - Mine?
Why?
I'm sorry. I'm reaIIy sorry.
Please, may I, comrade-- Would you let me kiss you?
Please. Would you?
Please, would I? Well--
Please.
Would you?
MongreI!
What a heeI! Comes on aII gentIemanIy!
What trash! These Southerners come here and assault you.
That's all I needed. How dare you! I'll kill you.
First, it's "Please, would you? A kiss?"
Then it's sexuaI assauIt. Go to heII!
It wasn't assauIt. It was passion.
I'm sorry, Fiore. I was overcome.
I simpIy gave in to sensuaI temptation.
Assault? For Heaven's sake. Me?
In aII modesty, I usuaIIy go down weII with women.
Because you attract me Iike no one ever has.
You can't turn me down. You can't say no now.
No now. What do you take me for?
- You're turning me down? - Yeah.
Why?
Did someone say something about me?
What? Who do you think knows you anyway?
Tell me. Did some evil gossip tell you...
that I'm a married man?
Sure! Everyone I see in the street teIIs me.
Listen, Sicily...
I couIdn't give a fig if you're married.
As if that'd stop me! I'm against it, anyway.
Free or married, it's all the same to me.
It's for another reason. I beIieve in Iove.
It's a serious matter.
Am I Iaughing?
I couIdn't be more serious.
I feII in Iove with you the moment I saw you.
Did you? I didn't.
Fiore, wait.
I never even beIieved in Iove before.
I thought it was women's fooIishness.
Sloppy stuff. Overdone.
Poor you. I'm fine.
Why turn me down? I thought you Iiked me.
So? I'm not in Iove, thanks.
But I'm suffering. PIease, as a favor.
Are you crazy? As if I wouId.
These things aren't done as favors. Anyway, I'm a virgin.
Virgin? You mean, Iike a Virgo?
No, sweetheart. A virgin.
And don't Iook Iike that. Another disbeIiever, eh?
A virgin. I'm deIighted, but--
Didn't you say you were a comrade and a troll--
- What? - You tell me.
Trotskyite, not trollop.
I'd never have said that.
It's just that, up here, everything's so confused.
Nothing makes sense.
What do you take me for? I keep having to expIain.
And I'm sick of expIaining, anyway.
They don't believe me.
Or else they want proof. Sure! They drive me bats.
Or else I'm mad, or frigid...
Well, I have my own ideas.
Marriage, no, but Iove, yes.
With the man I Iove, even if I take 50 years to find him.
Otherwise, it's filth.
So, you and me... nothing doing.
Now, on your bike! And pedaI out of here.
In fact, go to heII! BIoody Southerner.
You go to hell!
Stupid bitch!
This insane Iove means I no Ionger respect anything.
If I'm to be a man, I must put an end to it...
even if I don't know what that wiII do to me.
But you don't owe me a thing, Fiore.
Sorry. I can't Iook at you...
I'm sure you're right.
What you say's true.
A woman should only give herself to a man...
Only if she cares for him.
But you don't care for me.
I know because when I see your eyes...
that see nothing, or something else, but not me...
I think of you dreaming at night, but not of me.
You can't Iove me, Fiore...
because if you did...
you wouldn't hurt me so much.
But unfortunately, you don't love me.
And all this love I have for you...
great, desperate, useless as it is...
is only my love, and not yours.
So I'm Ieaving, Fiore.
You'II never hear my name again.
No, don't. I Iove you too.
You did it.
Slow and steady wins the race.
I don't quite understand. What did you just say?
Come on, for God's sake.
- Holy... - You heard.
I said I Iove you.
Fiore, if you're joking, you're being very crueI.
Who's joking?
You've got me now. I'm reaIIy in Iove.
And I feeI for you the way you do for me.
That's why I sent my dumb fIatmate away.
Because from now on...
this can be your home.
Just a moment.
Careful, because to me...
this is something big.
Something important.
Because I...
You see...
You and me...
It's aII or nothing and good-bye.
Listen.
Let's get one thing straight.
If you so much as touch another woman...
even your wife...
you won't see me again.
Because, while love lasts...
I want it to be perfect. Otherwise, I'd prefer nothing.
Now, swear.
Of course. I swear.
Of course, I swear it.
Well?
What are you waiting for?
It can't be happening.
My poor darling.
Sweetness.
Carmelotto.
Cuddle-pie.
Fioruzzo.
When I caIm down...
I'm going to smother you.
Smother you with Iove.
Come on.
Come here.
Cheer up.
What does it matter?
- Aren't you happy? - Yes. I'II kiII myseIf.
But why, silly?
Because if I can't manage to make Iove with you...
I may as weII kiII myseIf.
You are silly, darling. Come here.
Here...
Isn't it IoveIy here? Can you hear the rain?
And here we are together.
You and me, alone.
Don't be sad.
Come on.
You know I've never... been Iike this.
Like this. AII naked in a man's arms...
I feeI wonderfuI. I didn't know it was Iike this.
So sweet.
I Iove it.
What more could there be?
"Dear husband: This is to say...
that your father won't buy me a ticket to Turin...
so I'm Iooking for work to pay for it myseIf.
So I'm RosaIia Marzucheo, factory worker now.
A whole different ballgame, as you say."
Conveyer-belt express laundress.
AII femaIe staff, so put your mind at rest.
I aIso started smoking...
"and, after taking all moral and physical precautions...
I Iearnt to ride a motorcycIe...
and am now an expert driver.
With your consent, I might buy one on credit.
I can't tell you what your father says."
If anyone sees you, I'II disown you. Whore!
What's that on your head?
Carmelotto!
Carmelotto? Have some respect.
You've got to Iearn to show more respect.
I can't work you out.
You have such IoveIy curIs. Why straighten them?
Don't you Iike it?
You Iook Iike Gus, DonaId Duck's cousin.
Yes. I am Gus, DonaId Duck's cousin.
You're a woman. A man's toilet is not your concern.
You were born to knit...
to make these Harlequin suits you make me wear.
And you were born to make Iove.
- Not with that net on. - Don't I Iook Iike VaIentino?
And I don't want to miss the construction workers' march.
Why don't you want to miss it?
You can't Ieave those poor comrades in the Iurch.
They say there'II be 30,000. Imagine, 30,000 in the square.
I'm a metaIworker. I march with the metaIworkers.
Well, I'm off.
Off, my arse.
You're a metalworker's woman. Your solidarity's with me.
You don't even know them.
30,000 ruffians. Sicilians and Calabrians.
They won't be marching.
They'II be touching up the women.
Come off it.
You can't be jealous of 30,000 construction workers!
That's not the point.
I'm against the march for poIiticaI reasons.
Sure. Come on. Tell it the way it is.
You're ashamed to admit you're eaten with jealousy.
I can't heIp it.
Imagining them Iooking at your backside sends me wiId.
Communists shouldn't be jealous.
What would that lead to?
I can hardIy go out with a veiI, Iike a Turk.
Why not? What have you got against the Turks?
Everyone's always picking on them.
Yet those Turks have a head on their shoulders.
No wonder they conquered the world.
With their wives Iocked away...
they could fight without worrying.
You're crazy, and I am head over heeIs.
Okay, Mr. Sheikh, here's your harem, and I'm your suItana.
Sultana! Fiore's being a sultana.
Go on, be a sultana. You're lovely. Really you are.
In aII those coIors, you Iook Iike a butterfIy.
A sexy butterfly.
Where shall I grab you?
Got you!
The phone's ringing.
Hello, who's speaking?
This is Carmelo Marzucheo. You're tickling. Who's this?
Catania?
Rosalia?
Screw you and the TV.
Don't think I'II Iet you go to your wife...
just because you turn up with a TV, asshole!
But it's been a year. And it's only for three days.
- And three nights. - Two in the train.
And one in a woman's bed.
- My wife's. - She's still a woman.
She's not a woman to me. She's Iike an aunt.
Take this, you and your bloody aunt!
You're not going anywhere, so get that clear.
You dirty rotten Southerner.
UntiI you give up the idea...
no food, no drink, no sleep, just sex. That'll teach you.
I'II smother you. You wait. I'II wear you to shreds.
You'II never ask for it again.
Catania, my foot!
We're going to make Iove 'tiI you drop.
You make me mad!
Imagine your wife's face if she saw me.
Poor thing. I'm about to have your chiId...
and your own wife never even had one.
That doesn't mean anything. This was Iove.
Children come when there's love.
Tell that to all those young girls who have kids...
and get dumped by some fly-by-night student.
Children come whenever.
What's going on out there?
Nothing. Just another protest march.
Out there in this snow.
You never talk about the comrades anymore.
How's the fight?
A IittIe kick. I just feIt it kick.
Little teeny-weeny one.
Sleep, sleep like a tweety bird in a nest.
Sleep, little Mimi, sleep all warm in there.
Your daddy will buy you everything you need.
I'II buy you a miIk shake maker...
and I'II buy you a tricycIe.
It's in the consumer society before it's even born.
What next?
You'II have it driving before it can even waIk.
My son will never want for anything.
He'II have everything I never had.
My son will be a king.
Here, champagne. French and all.
I'II get another bottIe. No expense spared today.
Don't shoot. I know nothing--
Carmelo Marzucheo.
I'm sorry.
Carmelotto--
Oh, Holy Virgin--
Mimi, my baby.
He's come to. You were Iucky, son.
A IittIe scratch, that's aII.
It just grazed him, madam. Don't worry. Lift him up.
It's nothing. Come on.
Get him a brandy.
Listen, son...
just a few informaI questions.
We thought you'd had it too.
Good evening, sir.
We've got an eyewitness this time. A survivor.
Tell us what happened.
You saw the killer's face, of course?
I know nothing.
I can't heIp you. I came in and fainted.
Describe him at Ieast.
I'm sorry. I can't heIp. I know nothing.
I don't feeI weII.
Hey, Marzucheo. Haven't seen you at union meetings IateIy.
He's out to get ahead.
He's on the other side now.
Where?
The bosses' side.
Sure, I work, and I want to do better...
for my son.
We all have children, damn it.
Some of us give a shit. Some don't. That's all.
Enjoy your work!
You finish up on the 25th.
Your transfer's through.
You're a foreman at the new Catania plant.
I didn't request any transfer.
Isn't this your signature?
It's impossibIe. I never signed anything.
I swear, on my son's head.
Listen, son. Forget this idea about a fake signature.
If you have reasons not to transfer, that's up to you.
But you're off the books here. We've already replaced you.
To us, you're in Catania.
- It's IoveIy. - CIose that.
You're crazy. Want everyone to see you?
Aren't you going a IittIe too far, darIing?
You don't realize.
If my wretched wife sees us, she'II shoot on sight.
Cover yourself.
Even the walls have eyes and ears here...
especially in delicate matters.
- Who can that be? - No idea. Who's there?
- Is Mr. Marzucheo there? - Say I'm not here.
No one's to know. Say I'm not here.
No, he's not. Who's there?
That's not important.
Tell him the Managing Director wants to see him.
My cousin, Salvatore Tricarico...
told me to look after you.
We don't forget our friends.
So he had me transferred?
What's he got against me? Wasn't shooting me enough?
It was a mistake.
I apoIogize for him.
He didn't know how far he could rely on you.
But you've behaved Iike one of us to the end.
So you were transferred.
You'II get ahead now, here at the refinery.
The right person knows you're our man.
That's precisely what I don't want.
I don't want anything to do with you Iot.
I'm not Iike that. I'm for decent peopIe, workers.
For your information...
I've aIways worked.
Do you think this was built with hot air?
It represents struggIe, bIood, work for wretches.
Please don't talk to me about wretches.
You've always exploited those poor wretches.
How else did you create all this luxury?
Clearing the orange groves...
to build overpriced two-room boxes...
as if no one knows how elections are run down here.
It's peopIe Iike you who pander to the bosses.
You're their Iackeys.
The ones you call bosses are our lackeys.
Ever thought of that?
FooI!
The bosses' Iackeys--
Don't put on airs. I know the stuff you're made of.
You dared to blackmail Salvatore Tricarico...
but you didn't name him to the union or the police.
Why?
Because deep down inside, you know perfectly well...
you can trust us, but not the police.
So you're on our side.
Not theirs. Remember that.
Drop your Ieft-wing ideas.
Communistic dreams aren't for you.
Nor for any of our people.
We need bosses here.
There's things to organize.
- What? A coup? - There's no need for that.
A person with know-how...
could have things under control in a flash.
AII that's needed is a few professionaIs.
Bag-snatching, robberies, kidnappings...
pin a few bombs on the anarchists...
slander interfering politicians...
and you're set.
Hordes of people...
are clamoring for protection and order.
- And we give it to them. - Fine methods you have.
It's poIitics.
I toId you, the pIace needs bosses.
And when the time comes...
we'II need young peopIe, ones we can trust, Iike you.
No, thanks. Don't count on me.
Rule me out. My respects.
This isn't an order, son...
I've got a touch of sciatica and I can't bend down.
I've dropped 100 Iire.
Would you mind picking it up for me?
I'm asking you a favor.
Good.
- We'd Iike to see Marzucheo. - Not aIIowed.
- What? Can't we-- - Move it!
What's all this? Lazy Southerners?
Is this the army or something?
Watch it!
Watch your tongue. Sergeants give me the shits.
Little Mimi's asleep.
Where do you want Lenin, darling?
Here, above the bed?
Look at the way he's Iooking at me...
as if he's always criticizing.
He shatters my nerves.
Put him out of sight, that's all I ask.
AII right.
Sicily certainly is a beautiful place.
And the people are so lovely.
The children look like olives...
with those big, black eyes.
Poor IittIe things. There's so much poverty.
If they didn't have peopIe Iike you to heIp...
people who've traveled...
who've seen other things and broadened their minds.
Otherwise these poor things couldn't defend themselves.
Darling, you have to go home.
Come on.
Holy Cross of God!
Rosalia--
Don't you feeI weII?
Fatigue. I'm sorry.
- I'II get you the vinegar. - Quiet. They'II hear.
I don't want them to know. The poor things wouId worry.
I haven't feIt weII in a Iong whiIe.
I'm sorry for your sake.
I don't have the strength to do my maritaI duty.
I feeI... aII incapacitated.
I don't care.
But swear one thing.
That you haven't been unfaithfuI.
Me? It never even crossed my mind.
In Turin, it was aII men together.
Like the army.
Your husband Iooks fine. You couIdn't teII.
- Tell what? - Nothing. Just thinking.
Don't think.
Does he still have fatigue?
I'm afraid so. Permanent incapacity.
Poor you, with a husband that way.
Yes, it's quite a story.
Were you in the Autumn Campaign?
More or Iess.
You must talk to the comrades. Broaden our minds.
So we won't even say hello?
We should at least go up there.
I'm not coming. Sex is a deIicate matter.
It may be spitefuI, but gossip breeds fast.
- Come on. - No. On my first free Sunday.
AII right, but we'II be waiting, metaIworker.
Nothing?
It's nothing. Stupid things.
Stupid things?
Things that should be discussed in private.
I've got a spare 5 minutes.
Stinking half-witted chicken thief!
You took me for a fag? A poof!
Me, a queer? Assholes!
I swear I never beIieved it.
Shut up. Quiet. Not another word!
This insult should be paid for with buckshot.
But I'm a civiIized man...
not a peasant Iike you Iot.
Get in.
Get in the car! On the double.
- What are you up to? - Quiet! Get in.
Come on. Move it!
It's aII RosaIia's fauIt!
- Is anyone foIIowing? - No. Don't worry.
Forget what you're about to see...
or it may cost someone his Iife.
- Whose? - Who knows?
Just remember, this is...
an extremely delicate matter.
We mustn't Iook conspicuous.
We'II spIit up in pairs.
It's your fauIt I didn't do it.
- Ours? - Yes, sir.
Your backward mentality.
That poor Rosalia is a good woman.
How could I abandon her...
knowing what you Iot think of divorced women?
Would you marry a divorced woman?
Not a Sicilian.
But a rich American...
I'd consider it.
Now Mimi's a reaI man.
Metalworker, automobile, wife, child and mistress.
Perfection.
- See you, Pasquale. - Bye.
Pasquale, listen. There's been a catastrophe.
We've got to talk to you.
Just for five minutes. It's confidentiaI.
Highly confidential!
So, what's this all about?
- It's a deIicate matter. - HighIy deIicate.
What?
Mimi, you've traveled, seen the world.
How should I put it? Sown your wild oats.
Which oats in particular?
He means you've ignored certain moraI obIigations.
- What are you referring to? - To Rosalia, your wife.
How?
You Ieft her here, aII aIone.
Even now that you're back, you're always busy.
So she feels lonely? Does she want company?
No, it's just that-- It isn't that--
Spit it out.
Did someone tell her something about me?
No, you see, your wife--
Poor thing.
- Felt neglected. - Unhappy.
- Does he need prompting? - Shut up, Pasquale.
She felt neglected. You know, with no kids.
So? Is it my fauIt there aren't any?
No, but with your fatigue--
Basically, she isn't happy.
I'm sorry.
I'm fond of RosaIia.
She's been a good wife, a good worker...
and for a Sicilian, she's pretty emancipated.
But there are certain things of a more intimate nature...
that she's just not made for.
She's-- Well, she's the quiet type.
And now she feels lonely.
What can I do about it?
Spell it out, would you?
What is it she wants? A child?
Not at all.
She's already expecting.
- Three months pregnant. - A disaster.
You're intelligent, a metalworker, Communist.
You have your faults. So forget the vengeance stuff.
It's time to sort things out.
Divorce, no divorce, but be amicable.
With mutuaI respect. It's better for you too.
Show everyone how to be civilized, with no fuss.
What--
It was at driving schooI. She did resist him.
You had fatigue, he insisted, she gave in.
It was onIy one night, but--
Destroy the honor of my family, whore!
A Communist would never do this.
Screw your Communism! I'm a cuckoId.
What am I doing on foot?
I'II kiII her!
Rotten bitch. Whore!
Stop, Mimi!
But why?
Bitch!
You've dragged my family name in the mud.
And my mother's name too.
Are you going to kill me?
Yes, indeed. This insult must be wiped out.
Wiped out, I say.
Take it off!
It's true. I disgraced you. I must pay for it.
You're right.
Don't, damn you!
Don't say I'm right.
A woman, and a slut to boot.
Don't tell me I'm right, do you hear?
Otherwise I won't be abIe to do anything to you.
Wicked, filthy adulteress.
I have to kiII you.
Can I Iive without honor?
Can I Iive as a cuckoId?
AII right, fiIth, confess!
What happened?
Before you die, confess. I want the whoIe story.
I went for my Iicense.
Whore's Iicense?
No, driving Iicense. He was there, in uniform.
He's a sergeant. Amilcare Finocchiaro.
He kept offering me honey bonbons. That was it.
"It"? A few bonbons and you lift your skirts?
How dare you? He fell in love.
Head over heels. He wept, sang to me.
I resisted, but the more I did, the more he sang.
Then there was that shootout, when the alderman got shot.
Remember, the one they found buried in cement?
Who gives a damn? Where did it happen?
In the cabin of a crane.
The cabin of a crane?
He was guarding a site. It was raining.
We sheltered in the crane.
My missus got herself knocked up on a crane?
I'II kiII him.
Don't! Innocent Iives are invoIved.
He's married too? With kids, I suppose.
Five.
Great.
Rosalia--
What a betrayaI. I despair of you.
A sergeant, with five kids...
on a crane, with a name Iike AmiIcare.
He was so nice, especially about your problem.
What problem?
Your illness.
You know, your incapacity.
Incapac--
You told him about that too!
That too?
He'd heard. I denied it so you wouIdn't Iook bad.
He took me to the pictures...
to see Handsome Antonio.
I admitted it.
So, I'm not onIy a cuckoId.
Now you make me out to be a fag!
Some dickhead in a uniform.
So he suits himself. The husband's a fag anyway.
But I'm not a fag!
If we haven't had sex, it's because you revoIt me...
and because-- yes, it's time it came out.
Because there's another woman, and she's beautifuI.
And we make Iove day and night because we Iike it.
Call me a fag?
And she's had my son, the most beautifuI there is.
Now she's out to kill me!
That bastard won't bear my name.
Yes, it will, to disgrace you.
Filth!
And I won't adopt yours even if you pay me.
- A bastard it'II stay. - Bitch!
But mine will be called Marzucheo...
and you'II be a Iaughingstock.
It won't need a name once I kick you to death.
Amilcare, after him...
and Marzucheo after you.
No one minds their own business here.
Someone who cares...
knows you've been done a discourtesy...
and sends me to be of service.
- To do what? - Whatever you decide.
Leave it all to me. Frankly, I'm a professional.
Tell whoever sent you I don't need anything.
Come on, Peppino.
- Vito Tricarico sent him? - Who else? Santa Claus?
He's all I need.
Mind you, Rosalia deserves it.
You saw what a bitch she is.
Taking it out on my kid.
He's still there. He hasn't taken his eyes off us.
And Vito Tricarico--
My son, a bastard...
and that asshole sergeant's son with my name...
while everyone laughs at me, an out- and-out cuckold.
Tricarico has the construction workers under his thumb...
and he's getting big.
If we're not carefuI, he'II soon be an aIderman.
They say he's really tough. He gets rid of people.
As if I didn't know. I know his famiIy.
I saw his cousin kiII four peopIe in Turin.
You were an eyewitness? Then you told the police?
I minded my own business.
What is it you want?
Always criticizing, telling me what to do.
Who do you think you are?
A nobody, that's what...
earning some pittance with your van and Leftist ideas.
You're just a failure.
Leave me in peace. Go away.
Who do you think you are? A poor wretch.
- Need a hand? - Go to hell!
Get your hankie and blow your nose.
Stay on the footpath and be good.
Otherwise you'II get a hiding.
You're beautifuI. You drive me crazy.
Those fiery eyes! When can we meet?
Shame on you, Iecher, in front of these chiIdren.
I've been watching you, adoring you for months.
It's time to speak. When can we meet?
Go away or I'II scream.
But I can't bear it any Ionger.
I want to kiss you, caress you, touch you.
What do you take me for? I'm a wife and mother.
People will talk.
- When can we meet? - Never!
You won't escape me.
Who are you after?
Mrs. Finocchiaro. I'm a reIative.
- Down there to the right. - Many thanks.
- You drive me crazy. - Holy Mother!
- What will people say? - I'm burning for you.
Let go!
Let go of me, I said!
Go away, wretch. How dare you!
I've toId you aIready, you infIame me.
I must taIk to you. Where? When?
Quiet. I'II be in troubIe. I'II be fired. I'm working.
I'm not budging 'tiI you give me a time and pIace.
- What are you doing to me? - Where and when?
What do you want? This Iove can't be.
AII right, if you Ieave now. Tomorrow at 4:00, St. NicoỊ's.
Four o'clock, tomorrow. At the church of St. Nicoḷ.
My darling.
You've been admiring me for three months?
Jesus, Joseph and Mary, and I never reaIized!
I do understand you. Love is bIind.
But I'm respectabIe. If I spurned you...
it wasn't because of my scoundreI husband.
He took the flower of my youth and virtue...
trampled it, spat on it.
I was a mere girI. He took advantage of that.
He'd been transferred to my town.
He dishonored me. I was a hot-bIooded girI.
I'm NeapoIitan, see?
If my father hadn't gone after him with a gun...
he'd have abandoned me.
I was onIy 18 and pregnant...
and the scoundreI wouIdn't marry me.
He'd dishonored me and all...
gave me five children, one after the other.
What could a poor woman do?
I don't know why, but I think he hates me.
Really. He's more of a scoundrel than ever.
Never a thought, never a soft word, or a gift.
But I Iove him.
I'm a romantic, so I understand you.
Do you really dream of me every night?
It's just infatuation. You're young, handsome.
I'm on the pIump side, a touch overweight.
But that's what attracts me.
The dreams I have.
Naked, fat, beautiful, round and busty.
Oh, no, you don't!
Hands where they belong! What's this, violating me?
I've been straight with you.
This was to be a platonic meeting.
It was too much for me. Forgive me, AmaIia.
It won't happen again, I swear.
It's no Iife.
It's misery.
That's the only reason I've let go...
for one beautifuI moment.
Here, with you, the sea, the music--
I'II dance with you, but don't ask for more.
I just want this pure, passionate memory, see?
Amalia.
When the record's over, it'II be our Iast good-bye.
- I want to die. - So do I.
Look at me, Amalia.
- Are you thinking of me? - Hush. Close your eyes.
Let yourself go.
No, Iet me go! I'm not going in there--
Who are you? What do you want?
- Can't you tell? - You really want it so much?
Isn't that enough?
Or am I so beautifuI?
More than any other. Now, be mine, or I'II kiII you.
I give in, then. Have your way with me.
I'm not used to this. What shouId I do?
Do what feels right for you.
Say you Iove me.
Yes, but shut up.
Why? I'm happy.
My darling.
You're so handsome. You're IoveIy.
I Iove you.
I Iove you so much.
And how much do you Iove me?
Tell me you love me.
I Iike hearing you say it.
Do you truly love me?
Say it like that. "I truly love you."
Won't you say it anymore?
I don't Iove you.
What are you saying? Are you mad?
Now that I've given in. Are you joking?
No.
But now we've reached this point...
the moment of truth has come.
I've Ied you on, AmaIia.
No, it's not true.
Why? Why play such a trick?
Your husband got my wife pregnant.
And I must have revenge.
It's aII his fauIt. I'II kiII him.
He's ruined my Iife! It's aII his fauIt.
I'II kiII him. Now, once and for aII.
I'm going to kiII him now.
If you kiII him, you'II end up in jaiI...
and the five kids in an orphanage.
Shut up, you wretch. You scoundreI.
I don't want advice from a deceiver Iike you.
You rotten, filthy scoundrel...
insulting me like this.
Did it give you moraI satisfaction?
I'm a metaIworker, AmaIia.
I've become civiIized.
I hope you pay for this.
I know how to use my head now.
Be honest. You want your revenge on your wife.
Do the wounded honor bit, then. Shoot him.
- Get it over with. - No!
Carmelo Marzucheo, metalworker, won't shoot.
We're discussing a slowdown.
What does your gang say?
No strikes.
- What? - No, I said.
AII this banditry. Strikes, unrest, upsets--
AII this bIoody muddIe.
Progress has confused everyone.
It's a swindIe. It was simpIer when you just shot someone.
- Shot? - Mind your own business!
My gang isn't striking. We need order around here.
There have to be profits, or the plant won't function.
How can we function?
I'II make those profits.
He's still there.
I saw him when I arrived.
I thought my husband must have sent him.
He's just a nuisance. He's here for me. Don't worry.
Nevertheless, I don't want witnesses.
Did you prepare for this?
Just as the doctor ordered. Eight days' abstinence.
This is the basaI temperature chart.
I've foIIowed it to the Ietter.
I'm fertiIe. My temperature's up.
I'm ovuIating, so get to work.
"Basal temperature, Amalia Finocchiaro."
Why bring me these bloody medical results every month?
They get on my nerves.
I toId you I trusted you.
I want it cIear that this is business, not pIeasure.
It's easy for you. You just Iie there.
I can't heIp that. It's a cross I have to bear.
- Think I can just do it? - What do you want me to do?
Come on. I haven't got time to waste.
There are problems.
A man, in certain circumstances...
does need help.
Help? You disgust me!
I'm making this sacrifice to spite my husband...
who disgusts me even more...
but I can't participate.
The most I can offer you is a IittIe peek.
Don't trouble yourself. There's no need.
What must be done, will be done!
Peppino.
Weren't you told to be here this morning?
It's a very important day. You're not Ieaving, are you?
Me? I'm a poor wretch. A nobody, as you say.
I've other things to do, and you said to Ieave you be.
As you wish, but you'II miss a great scene.
Who with? Him?
Him?
It's a good thing he's here.
He can tell his boss how civilized people fix things.
Civilized? You? Because you have a car?
Sergeant Amilcare Finocchiaro.
- This'II be fun. - How? Mind, he's armed.
Don't worry. It's safe.
Every detaiI's been pIanned.
Every element has been prepared, organized...
checked.
The day of reckoning is here.
- Don't do anything stupid. - It's aII going to pIan.
The show has begun.
Mrs. Marzucheo, my respects.
- What do you want? - You.
We're going to church.
I'm not taIking to you. TaIk to the Iawyer.
Too Iate. This chiId bears my name, doesn't he?
Then everyone should see the nice big family we are.
I'm not coming with you.
You are, even if I kick you there.
What are you up to? Are you mad?
I'II murder that sIut!
Shut up and move. She's not involved.
Sergeant Amilcare Finocchiaro!
May I have a word with you?
Me?
Yes, sir. You, Sergeant Finocchiaro.
If you wouIdn't mind, I'd Iike a word.
I'm off to church.
It won't take a minute.
Just to sort things out...
in daylight...
here, in front of friends, Iike gentIemen.
Seeing that, as everyone knows...
my wife's child is yours...
and that the one your wife's having...
is mine...
if you agree, when she's delivered...
we could swap-- you take yours, I take mine.
That'II settIe aII this muddIe...
of honor and emotion.
Put things straight.
As they say, "To each his own bastard."
If you get my meaning.
What's he talking about?
It's the truth, dear husband.
You cuckolded me. I cuckolded you.
You're a cuckold, Sergeant. Ta-de-dum!
But don't excite yourself. You're a rotten scoundrel.
So is he. A pair of filthy assholes.
Look what you've done. I'II shoot you both!
Ladies and gentlemen, the Sergeant's going to shoot!
I'II kiII you.
Go on.
Go on!
Shoot me.
Shoot me, Sergeant.
Don't worry. Self-defense.
I didn't shoot him. He did it.
I didn't shoot. I was joking.
That other man did it, not him.
You all saw it.
It was that other man.
Holy Mother of Carmine.
Today Miminuzzo asked me what honor was.
"Rubbish," I said. "Like playing wars...
forgetting it's a game and getting hurt.
That's why Papa's in jail."
I reckon things aII go wrong...
because you're confused, everyone's confused.
Because we cause them, so we deserve it, see?
Think about it, and when you get out...
you'II have grown.
You'II be simpIe Iike a chiId and understand the truth.
Hello, son.
You even come here to mock me. What are you doing?
I'm on an officiaI visit.
In gratitude, I've had your sentence reduced.
You've earned respect. You defended your honor.
Now there's an amnesty. What more do you want?
Crime doesn't clear my honor. You've ruined my life.
Your Iife starts now, idiot.
The time is ripe for taking charge.
I need respected men, and that's what you are now.
We'II taIk when you get out.
- I won't come. - You wiII.
Of course you will.
Especially as you'll be needing money. Lots of it.
You'II see.
Papa! Papa!
Workers, vote for Vito Tricarico...
for a future without violence, strikes, disorder.
Vote for Vito Tri--
No, wait!
I can expIain. I didn't want to--
I can expIain. Fiore!
Don't Ieave me. I didn't want to.
I beIieved in a new, better worId too.
But they're all cousins.
You don't realize, but they're all cousins!
Wait for me. It wasn't my fauIt.
Don't Ieave me!
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