Beautiful baby, your nephew.
Thank you, Holy Father, um...
Appreciate that.
Oh, uh sorry...
I brought a gift for you, a painting that I did.
Thank you.
- Interesting, thank you. - You're welcome.
So...
You look a bit older, it might just be the beard.
I had a beard since I was 31.
Well, I remember this amazing speech that you gave in Venice
but I don't remember you having a beard then.
That was Pius XIII.
Oh.
So, who are you?
I'm John Paul III.
Oh... oh...
Oh...
Please forgive me, Holy Father, you gotta understand
I've been in the studio holed up for months
and I don't really keep track of the news, so...
What helps?
Potassium phosphate
mixed with a capsule of Xablon.
So you're quite the pharmaceutical adventurer.
So, you're not Pius XIII?
No, I'm the new Pope.
May I ask what happened to the old Pope?
He's in coma
and he had a successor, Francis II
and he died.
Wow...
Have you gone to visit him?
- Who? - The Pope in a coma.
No, not yet.
Maybe you should.
♪ When I said it out loud it wasn't as strong as it was in my head ♪
♪ I tried not to think about it, so it came back louder ♪
♪ I think it's been about a year since I became a snob ♪
♪ Decided not to play along, so it grew bigger ♪
♪ Me and my head have become very, very, very close ♪
♪ We decided not to tell you, to tell you about it ♪
♪ We're just gonna play it safe Do what we know ♪
♪ Play it cool, lay it low Not tell you about it ♪
♪ And here I am playing by myself ♪
♪ Me and my superiority complex ♪
♪ And here I am playing by myself ♪
♪ Me and my inferiority contest ♪
♪ I'm not winning, but I'm having a very good time ♪
♪ You can call me ♪
♪ You can call me the good time girl ♪
♪ When I said it out loud, it didn't sound as good ♪
♪ I couldn't be as proud as my original thought ♪
♪ I'm not trying to whisper what should be bought ♪
♪ But I can't imagine being out of control ♪
♪ I knocked off the top, my head and I ♪
♪ When I'm all alone but I'm in my prime ♪
♪ Don't want the throne when I'm doing just fine ♪
♪ Just as long as I'm having a real good time ♪
♪ You can call me ♪
♪ You can call me the good time girl ♪
Brothers!
Many...
far too many members of the clergy
believe that love is an infinite meadow
and they're allowed to pick all the flowers they want.
But they are not picking flowers
they are ripping plants from the earth
and assuring by their actions
that in the scorched and barren soil they've defiled
nothing more will ever grow.
This is what our church risks becoming.
The world wants to see paedophile priests hanged.
But Jesus would not want this, Jesus is civility
and the Church cannot, must not abandon her children
especially if they are ill.
But...
if they are ill...
she must distance them
from the heart of ecclesiastical life, forever.
Forever!
I know it sounds trite
but seeing you surrounded by all these men
makes me swell with pride.
Is that what we're calling it now?
Pride?
Your Holiness...
when you have a minute, I would like to show you something.
A gift from me to you, Your Holiness.
They told me you only love Bentleys.
So this is the way the real world works.
Yes, this is how it works.
I hope that you are not offended, Your Holiness, it is only a welcome gift
one that expects nothing in return.
What could I possibly give in return, Eminence?
I'm only primus inter pares.
To be concrete, you need to make appointments.
I am never concrete.
Do you remember, Your Holiness when...
when we slept in the same room after the seminary?
What happy memories!
We were young then.
All I remember about my youth is my brother Adam.
Do you still sleep with that silver box next to your bed?
Actually, you're right, of course.
We did sleep in the same room.
I recall you had an endless stream of young visitors
day and night, no?
If you'll allow me, Holy Father, I would be happy to inform you
sometime, of certain habits inside the Vatican.
I very much allow you, Eminence.
Do it now, do tell, straightaway.
I'm curious.
In the Vatican, the choice is between blackmail and benevolence.
I always prefer the second option.
Don't you?
I never answer important questions in the evening, Eminence.
Especially after three glasses of champagne.
Matter resolved.
A quid pro quo in the chain of command.
- May I swear? - Just once.
Like fuck it is! The matter's not resolved at all.
Reverend Mother, Don Cavallo informed me
that you had requested 200 euro
in order to take Lisette's mother to Lourdes.
And I have just given you 200 euro.
What we want now is not what we wanted before.
Our requests have changed.
You don't understand.
I understand everything, Reverend Mother.
But you need to be more clear.
We sisters have joined together and we now understand the difference
between charity and rights.
I am all ears.
We...
demand respect, social, moral
and economic recognition for the duties we sisters perform.
We want to be welcomed into the bosom of the Church
to be granted a more active ministry
including administering the sacraments.
And, in general, we expect the male clergy
to adapt a psychologically mature attitude in its relations with us female members.
Please, clarify this last point for me.
Do you really need me to elaborate
on the sort of things your brothers are capable of?
No, not now, I don't have time.
But a detailed written account would prove most useful.
- That you shall have? - No! You won't.
It's a trap, Reverend Mother.
We will be dismissed as tattlers
and he will have a record of all his accomplices' depravities
the better to blackmail them with.
Spectacular, the talent!
This will be a long war
though it will end as they all do, with my victory.
But you, Sister Lisette
will make a formidable adversary.
You can bet on that.
- Now what are you doing? - I'm dismissing you.
- And we will carry on with our strike. - Fine.
And we priests will learn how to cook and wash and iron our robes.
It's about time.
Be careful, Sister Lisette
your rights are one thing
the rites of the Church are another.
The former are negotiable, for they belong to men.
The latter are not, for they belong to God.
That's better.
You haven't joined your sisters' protest?
No.
Me no.
Why not?
Because I decided to believe in you.
What are your sisters asking for?
Respect.
Don't you need respect?
I have always had it.
I work with popes.
Are you mad at me?
I couldn't.
You're just a Sunday morning Christian.
What does that mean?
Ready to do good only if you don't have to get your hands dirty.
You're like those philanthropists who think they'll go to heaven
if they give away a tiny fraction of their dirty money.
You're being unfair, I tried.
No, you didn't try, Ester.
You just deluded some people who are truly suffering.
When will I see you again?
Here I am, Holy Father, forgive me for being a little late
but the Napoli coach's press conference dragged on and on.
Brevity of speech is not his strong point.
You, Voiello, have the great gift of informing me
of things that would not interest me even if I were you.
So, what is this about the nuns
occupying the Sistine Chapel?
Every six months or so, the sisters remember
that somewhere in some parallel universe
they too could say Mass, but don't worry
I have the situation under control.
Don't be too hard on them, Voiello.
The proper amount, that way they will not be too hard on me.
Marilyn Manson doesn't know who I am.
Marilyn Manson doesn't know who he is.
The Church I have in mind must be better at informing people.
Every Marilyn in the world should know reflexively who the Pope is.
This is not vanity, this is necessity.
As for them knowing who they are, there's always time for that.
Emory Kitsworth wants to interview you.
An in-depth, wide-ranging conversation
exclusive coverage on the Times website, live
then re-broadcast an hour later on every TV channel in the world.
So, voilà, now every Marilyn in the world will know you.
Hmm, an appealing idea.
I have another one.
I wish to pay a visit to Pius XIII.
- Dutiful. - Dangerous.
To have two Popes
Pius XIII and John Paul III, together in one photograph
wouldn't do much to clear up the confusion.
That photograph will never be taken.
My visit to Pius XIII will be strictly private.
My face will only be seen in public
on my way to and from the hospital.
In storytelling that is called "powerful deference".
My admiration for well-read women will never fade.
Perhaps that's why I don't miss Megan.
♪ Green light ♪
♪ He's headed over to the West Side ♪
♪ He said he'd be around midnight ♪
♪ And that's alright ♪
♪ Red wine ♪
♪ I got this bottle from a friend of mine ♪
♪ I've been saving it for someone special ♪
♪ Been saving it for tonight ♪
♪ Should I hide my excitement? ♪
♪ Put on make-up or wear a dress? ♪
♪ Should I hold back? ♪
♪ Or should I let go? ♪
♪ Should I put on a record ♪
♪ Or should I just play the radio? ♪
♪ Should I? ♪
Is there any possibility
he could wake up?
Based on the knowledge we have now, no.
No possibility.
His hand was so warm.
I found that comforting.
He is still alive...
even though he doesn't know it.
♪ Should I hide my excitement? ♪
♪ Put on make-up or wear a dress? ♪
♪ Should I hold back? ♪
♪ Or should I let go? ♪
♪ Should I put on a record? ♪
♪ Or should I just play the radio? ♪
♪ Should I? ♪
♪ Should I just take it slow? ♪
♪ When I just want to rush in ♪
♪ I just want to rush in ♪
♪ And I just want to rush in ♪
♪ I just want to rush in love ♪
♪ Should I hide my excitement? ♪
♪ Put on make-up or wear a dress? ♪
In Venice, my authority did not turn into authoritativeness.
If I may, Your Holiness, it is actually the opposite.
Your authoritativeness did not turn into authority.
- What should I have done? - Never mingle with idolaters.
Had you asked my advice that is what I would have told you.
What do you think, Sofia?
You cannot please everyone, Holy Father.
If I do not please, I cannot seduce.
If I do not seduce, I cannot influence.
If I do not influence, I repent.
Of what?
Of everything.
- Do I please you? - Immensely.
May I ask you an indiscreet ques...
I will never tell you what the woman whispered in my ear, Eminence.
Appointments.
Our dear Sofia reconfirmed as Director of Communications.
The masterful Voiello reconfirmed as Secretary of State.
Gutierrez will be my adviser.
And now an innovation...
my new personal secretary in charge of creativity...
the most eminent Cardinal Spalletta.
What would you have me do, Holy Father?
Everything I do not wish to do
which I can assure you will be rather a lot.
In terms of creativity, what do you propose, Spalletta?
I would commission Christo to make a gigantic contemporary cross
to be exhibited in St Peter's Square.
A classic extemporary operation, Holy Father
and also quite costly
nor is it devoid of the age-old stench of corruption.
So, not a good idea?
Spalletta?
Hmm...
A momentous diplomatic visit to North Korea.
That's already been done, I would be the second.
I've been playing the second fiddle my whole life, so...
not a good idea, Spalletta.
A smashing success, Spalletta!
And now I will instruct
my personal secretary in private.
- Disappointed? - No.
Not in the least, Holy Father.
I won't deny that I aspired to become Secretary of State
but personal secretary
allows me to work closely with you
which is what really matters.
I'm only thinking of your own good, Holy Father.
For your good coincides with the good of the Church.
So, Francis II's death... what do you make of it?
Did he really die of natural causes?
Do you really want to know what I think?
Hmm...
Probably not.
Voiello probably had a hand in it.
So we share the same suspicions. What do you say we look into it?
Just to keep ourselves from getting bored
and to keep me from meeting the same fate.
May I offer you some impartial advice, Holy Father?
Of course.
I would let it drop.
Hmm?
I will not deny my longstanding antipathy for Voiello
yet I feel I must warn you that making enquiries about him
would mean setting yourself against him.
Which is the last thing you want to do here in the Vatican.
Even the walls know that.
What makes him so dangerous?
No one really knows.
But the fact is...
every time someone tries to oppose him
he has ended up in pieces, literally.
Literally.
Voiello is helped by the Lord
Holy Father.
But...
what is difficult to understand is...
who is this Lord?
Is he divine...
or is he human?
John!
Sir John...
what did that woman in Venice say to you?
Good day, sisters. You wanted to see me?
Actually, we wanted to see you five hours ago.
Forgive me for having kept you waiting.
The consequences of the strike, everything is moving more slowly now.
So, what can I do for you?
To start, fix the Wi-Fi.
If only I could, but the server is down.
That happens occasionally and the nun usually repairs it
but that nun is currently on strike.
Are you saying we have to suspend our strike if we want internet?
It would seem that I am.
Why don't you call in an outside technician?
Because here in the Vatican we don't like waste
and because we can live just fine without Wi-Fi.
We are the oldest institution in the world, Sister Lisette
not the Apple campus.
Reverend Mother, you seem tired. So am I.
I am not sleeping well, are you?
Try this. Chamomile, it helps, I've found.
If we suspend our strike
what will you give us in exchange?
Wi-Fi.
And our other demands? How about them?
I will bring them to the Holy Father's attention
as I do with every request that comes across my desk.
Do not overestimate my power, Sister Lisette
I am merely a paper pusher.
We wish to meet with the Holy Father ourselves to explain our position.
A sacrosanct right.
You merely need to file an official request to see him.
- File with whom? - With me.
I'm confused, what exactly is the purpose of this meeting
which you have defined as both urgent and highly confidential?
We are repealing the eight per thousand law.
The tax the Italian people pay to maintain the clergy.
This is a declaration of war on the Church.
No, no, no, it's a necessary step towards saving the Italian people.
How?
One, our finances are in incredible disarray.
- The EU won't grant us any relief. - A surmountable problem.
I will talk with the EU.
Two, we were elected on the basis
of a clear and simple platform, to do away with privilege.
Which is exactly what we have done.
We've put the Church at the bottom of the list
but now your time is up.
I see, so the issue is not my confusion
but your conviction.
- I take that as a compliment. - Take it as a threat.
Your conviction conveys a distinct lack of respect
for the only thing that matters to us here in the Vatican.
What is that?
Mystery.
If they go through with it, it will be the end of us.
The Church would be poor.
What do you advise we do, Holy Father?
Nothing.
As the great Cardinal Newman used to say
"Christian virtues are poetic.
Gentleness and grace,
compassion, joy and modesty.
Whereas common, coarse sentiments are rhetorical tools.
Anger, indignation, emulation, combative spirit
the love of independence."
We must fly high.
We shall hold onto the poetry
and leave the rhetoric to others.
Holy Father, with all due respect
I'm afraid Newman may not be enough.
What a shame, Eminence.
What a shame.
The world once again confirms
it has no use for poetry.
But I am not the world.
That is not me.
You're back.
Yes, Ester, I came back
to test your righteousness.
I should have stayed at home to loll about my own house
rather than having to loll about in someone else's.
This is your house
and I will make it more comfortable for you.
Listen...
I can convince the Minister of Economy
to delay the measure
delay it until the government falls.
At which point we will be safe.
Holy Father, the eight per thousand
is not the only source of the money Guicciardini needs.
It can be found elsewhere.
Where?
In our own backyard.
We have our own financial organisation.
Which is free and easy, I gather.
See, Holy Father, you can be concrete when you want to be.
Don't alter my nature.
- It may kill me. - So give me a free hand.
I will continue to deal with the stench of the body
and you with the perfume of the spirit.
An admirable poetic utterance, Eminence.
What must I do?
Thomas Altbruck...
Sofia Dubois' husband.
Appoint him head of our financial organisation.
Thank you, Holy Father, for receiving me at this late hour.
I shall always have time for you, Gutierrez, you're dear to my heart.
I am ready to hear your confession.
Freddie was dressed nicely tonight.
When we were in the hallway, he took out his keys and...
with the calmness of youth
he opened the door to his room
but first...
he turned and looked at me.
Once inside, he knew what to do.
I didn't.
His confidence excited me.
He got undressed in front of the mirror.
He wasn't looking at me, but...
he knew I was looking at him.
His back...
His bare back...
It was too much...
I could barely bring myself to look at it, it excited me so.
But at the same time I wanted more.
And it was as...
if there was a wall between us.
But it wasn't an obstacle, that wall.
Please, that's enough.
Yes, enough.
Holy Father, enough.
Freddie satisfied my body.
God satisfies my spirit.
So...
Why do I always feel so empty?
But you are not alone, my friend, you are not alone.
That is all I can say to you.
This constant sense of feeling inadequate...
Makes us constantly nervous, I know.
I absolve you of all your sins.
But now you will have to hear my confession.
In order to stoke my pride, soothe my insecurities
satisfy my vanity and salvage my limping papacy
I have taken the first step
in the everlasting garden of sin.
And, coward that I am
I pretended not to see
not to understand
and not to know.
But I do see.
I do understand...
I know.