I speak frequently with the Pope.
What I'm about to tell you he said to me in conversation
not in the confessional.
Which means I'm not breaking the seal of confession.
What are you about to tell me?
The Pope is going through a profound crisis of faith.
What are you insinuating, Don Tommaso?
That the Pope doesn't believe in God.
♪ So many feelings
♪ Pent up in here
♪ Left alone I'm with
♪ The one I must fear
♪ I'm sick and I'm tired
♪ Of reasoning
♪ Just want to break out
♪ Shake off this skin
♪ I can't escape myself
♪ I can't escape myself ♪
They've manifested themselves.
Who?
My mom and dad.
But how?
It came in a box. No postmark, no nothing.
Not clue, no way to track them down.
Why don't they wanna be tracked down?
Because they're afraid of you, Your Holiness.
Everyone is afraid of you.
You've gotta cut it out with the fear, Your Holiness.
The important thing is that they're alive.
And they haven't forgotten you.
That's the Madonna of the jungle.
I know that.
Was there something you wanted to tell me, Sister Mary?
The Pope is upset.
The Pope is experiencing a moment of weakness.
The Pope is distracted.
If you need to have him sign a document
or something of the sort that gets our Church back on course
this would be the right time to do it.
I've done my part. Now you need to do yours.
What exactly have you done?
You'd better be ready, Voiello.
Someone might see us.
There is a new preface by Joseph.
I'm depressed, Angelo.
I don't give a shit that you're depressed, Michael.
At night, I take care of a disabled boy.
Last night I was looking at him
he was drooling and his eyes were blank
and I thought to myself:
what is the Church doing for this boy?
And the answer was simple:
the Church is doing nothing.
Why?
What was it doing before Pius XIII?
Are you depressed or suffering from amnesia, Michael?
Before Pius XIII the Church was taking care of the poor.
It was 'also' taking care of the poor.
But there's a bigger question.
What is the Church doing on a more general basis?
It's not doing anything anymore.
It's killing time.
We have a Church that's just killing time
and has become infinitely marginal.
That's exactly what the Pope wants: a marginal Church.
Small and dead.
He said it and now he's done it.
He wants to take the Church back to its beginnings.
And at the beginning, all this was nothing more than Peter's tomb.
For what purpose?
To close himself off, to deny himself
to make himself inaccessible and mysterious.
Sacrifice and suffering to get closer to God.
In his convoluted logic
this strategy is supposed to stimulate the world's curiosity and dedication
so that everyone will want to come back to discover the mystery.
Fine! But none of this is happening.
The churches are empty.
The mass with the Tridentine rite would discourage anyone.
It's now harder to become a priest than it is to become an astronaut.
The Pope is refusing to refinance the missions.
Our non-relations with other religions are tense and dangerous.
We've become few in number
alone, against the rest of the world.
St. Peter's Square is empty, dreary and abandoned.
Michael, we have the duty to take steps.
How?
Michael
come and see.
I know how to get him to resign, Michael.
And who
would this new Pope be?
Forgive me, Lord
for I have deceived
I am deceiving, and I will continue to deceive the Holy Father.
Forgive me, Lord
but I can no longer continue to look on at the destruction of the man
I love more than I love myself.
Forgive me, Lord
for I cannot continue any longer to look on
at the destruction of the institution I love more than I love myself
the holy Roman church.
Don't you agree it's a crime
that the cocktail culture is in decline, Your Eminence?
I don't know. Is it really such a bad thing?
I should say so.
My father taught me the art of the cocktail when I was twenty-five.
My father was one of the first people in Italy
to devote himself to the art of the cocktail, you know.
I'm sorry.
Can you excuse me just a moment?
You're a murderer.
Did you come for me?
No, no, I came because
I've never felt so
alone and in despair in all my life.
Angelo Sanchez is dead.
And I wanted to die when I first saw you.
I was dying of desire.
Who are you?
Don't worry.
Who are you?
Ludovico Meraviglia.
When will they be here?
Soon.
They're clearing immigration and passport control.
Why don't you help the time pass by doing a little work?
They are here.
Show them in.
Did you send me a gift?
Yes.
What did you send me?
The piece of the pipe you were missing.
The piece I gave you before I left you.
How did you know I lost it?
From time to time I'd call the orphanage where you were growing up.
And they told me that you always kept a piece of the pipe with you
but that you were missing the other piece.
How did you find that piece?
I had already lost it
after you left me at the orphanage.
Because one day, I was in a shop in Venice
and I happened to find the same pipe so I bought it.
And I sent you the piece that you had lost.
All right.
Now neither of you move.
It's not them.
Valente, expel these impostors from my home
immediately.
Who are you, Lenny?
I'm an orphan.
just like you.
When you gonna grow up?
Never. A priest never grows up, because he can never become a father.
He'll always be a son.
That is why we imposed a vow of celibacy on ourselves thirteen centuries ago
because we must always be the sons of God
never dare try to take His place.
Do you know why I wanted to meet you up here?
No.
Why?
Because this is where that young Spaniard
Angelo Sanchez jumped from.
He wanted to be a priest
and we thwarted him.
I thwarted him.
And now he's dead.
Lucky him.
He's going to speak with God.
Unlike us, he's finally going to find out the way things stand.
What has become of your pity? Have you never experienced pity?
I can't take it anymore, Lenny.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go back to Honduras.
If you give up now...
now that you're faced with the burden of responsibility and your own guilty conscience
when will you ever grow up?
When?
Who is betraying me?
Who is sending actors to my home, palming them off
as my long-lost parents? Who?
Voiello? Spencer?
Tell me, Tommaso.
No.
"No," what?
No.
I won't tell you anything else.
Why not?
Because I'm stupid, it's true, but not that stupid.
Do you resent me for not having made you a cardinal yet?
Yes.
At first I thought that was the reason
I wouldn't confide in you again.
You'll assume the purple at the next consistory.
It doesn't matter.
Because then I identified another reason
I won't ever tell you anything again.
Why?
You...
don't believe in God, Holy Father.
You don't believe in God.
♪ Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
♪ the minor fall and the major lift
♪ The baffled king composing Hallelujah
♪ Hallelujah
♪ Hallelujah ♪
You can give him to me, your Holiness. - No.
I am happy to change him. - Peter...
...get some rest, I'll take care of it.
♪ She tied you to her kitchen chair
♪ She broke your throne and she cut your hair
♪ And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah ♪
♪ Hallelujah
♪ Hallelujah ♪
Holy Father
the other day I was reflecting on the fact
that the one thing on which we share
a single view is the management of the Tonino Pettola case.
Mmm.
You can never be too careful.
Are you afraid of being poisoned, Your Holiness?
Among other things.
These are practices that have fallen out of use even in the Vatican, Your Holiness.
So...
...who organized that ridiculous masquerade
- ...with the fake parents? - Not me, Your Holiness.
I'd find it offensive if you thought I was behind that.
My methods are far more sophisticated.
I have to give you that.
Who then? - I don't know, believe me.
I wouldn't rule out the possibility that they were
a couple of the kind of lunatics who crawl out of the woodwork
and that our screeners allowed themselves to be taken in.
Holy Father, I swear to God
there is no conspiracy against you.
Only a great deal of sincere concern.
What did you have me sign the other day?
A simplified procedure for ordaining new priests.
And why did you have me sign it without talking to me about it first?
I had the documents delivered to you the night before.
I assumed you'd read them. - No.
That's not what happened.
You knew my head would be in the clouds
and you had me hastily sign those documents
that were completely opposed in their intent to the direction I'm advocating.
No, that's not right.
I wanted you to sign the decree simplifying the procedure for ordaining new priests
because the press is attacking us.
They're calling us murderers.
That with our short-sightedness, we killed young Angelo Sanchez.
What do you think?
Did we kill him?
Do you want the truth?
Yes, I want the truth.
No, Holy Father.
We didn't kill him.
You killed him.
It's time to speak the truth.
Pius XIII is a total failure.
I'm gonna resign, Michael.
It's the only thing left to do.
He knows.
Do you know who I am?
Yes. You're Carlos Garcia.
And do you know what I do for a living?
I heard that you're a narco.
No.
I'm not just any narco.
I'm the biggest narco around.
And do you know how I became
the biggest narco around?
By cunning?
No.
By violence.
I understand.
No.
You don't understand.
Violence, per se
ought not to exist.
It does exist when there is a lack of respect.
But there are many different ways to disrespect.
and not all require the use of violence.
If you had preached in your church against the narcos
and refused to give me communion
I wouldn't feel disrespected
you would simply have been doing your job
and I wouldn't have felt obliged to use violence against you.
But that's not what you did.
That's what the current bishop is doing
and he's right to do so.
In fact, no one would dream
to lay a finger on him.
You however
have chosen another path for your protests against drug trafficking.
You've decided to take my wife to bed. And that's not right.
That's not right because
now you're putting me in the odious position
of having to decide whether to forgive you or not.
My profound religiosity tells me I...
...should forgive you
but my professional working ethics
tell me the opposite.
All right, Esteban, let's go.
God has been evicted.
I'm going to hand in my resignation. My papacy is a failure.
Never say that again, Lenny.
You will be a great Pope.
The most beloved Pope of them all.
You've healed the sick.
You've made a hopelessly sterile woman pregnant.
You are a saint.
A beautiful saint.
You are the sweet Christ come back to Earth.
Thank you. - You're welcome.
Thank you for what you did for me the other day.
What did I do for you? - It was wonderful.
That was the loveliest moment of my life
to believe for a fleeting instant
that I had found them again.
For just one moment, I felt like I'd come home.