Anima persa (1977) - full transcript
Bizarre events keep occurring in an old mansion in Venezia, and it's soon obvious that something mysterious is up in the attic.
- Who lives in there?
- The gentry
- I see nobody around
- The gentry stay indoors
- In Venice for the first time?
- No no
I was here as a child
during the summer
- It's a wonderful city
- Venice is Venice
- Annetta.
- Yes, madam
See to the master's case.
- Your case.
- It's light.
I'll see to it.
- Nice trip?
- Yes. Thanks.
You must be tired.
You've grown.
What a fine lad you've become.
- How are your parents?
- They send their best.
This is your room.
Want to wash your hands?
- Trains are quite dirty.
- Give me your overcoat.
- I'll be in the dining room.
- All right, Auntie.
This blasted window
is always open
Latin and maths are out.
Dad's trade is not for me.
Even mum said
"Try painting. You're gifted.
Then we'll see"
- Are you gifted?
- Well...
As a child I was praised
for my drawing of Tarzan
- No
- I'll have some more.
God bless you.
- May I finish it?
- Yes. Don't be so formal.
My head!
Always at this time.
Join me in the other room
when you're ready
Oh, Tino,
Come along
I'll show you around.
This is Uncle's study.
He always eats out.
He meets important guests,
some from abroad.
- What is he?
- Engineer with the Gas Company.
A very important position.
I won't recognise him
after so long.
- Is that him?
- No. His Father, Mr Stolz.
A peculiar man.
When the Italians took Venice.
He moved to Vienna.
"I'll breathe the air of the
Empire till the end" he said.
- So you met there.
- No. We met in Venice.
He sleeps there.
Let me show you the disused
part of the house.
This house has been
in my family for centuries.
We've only restored
a small part of it.
Everything's so costly today.
We'll wait for better times.
This was the theatre.
Look at the decay.
How terrible.
As a child I'd sing...
and dance here.
Come.
Watch your step.
- Where does this lead?
- Nowhere. A locked room.
Don't ever go up there.
That staircase is rotten.
Come on. Let's go.
This is my room.
He comes home late.
I'm a light sleeper.
It's my nerves.
Go to bed. You must be tired.
Good night.
Good night, Auntie.
Thank you for everything.
I thank you for bringing
your youth into this home.
Bye.
- Can you find your way?
- Yes, Auntie.
- I can't find my room.
- It's right in front of you.
Thank you.
Good night
Good morning, son.
It's late.
- It's almost 7 o'clock
- Hello, Uncle.
If you're used to saying
your prayers, go ahead.
I'll look the other way.
Know how long you've slept?
Nine hours.
Plato said
"There's a beast in all of us
which comes out in our sleep"
Rule 1,have little sleep
I sleep 3 hours a night.
Here is all you need
to wash yourself
A touch old-fashioned,
I love the simple things of old.
Cold water and exercise
are good for you.
I do it every morning.
Naked by the window.
Do likewise.
We have 35 minutes to get
to Professor Sattin's school.
He's a poor painter.
And a hopeless teacher.
But it could help. Breakfast
and the boat are ready.
You may start breakfast.
I'll join you presently.
Hurry up.
What you see are the windows
of the old gaol.
Doge Faliero
And the Fornaretto
were first gaoled and then
executed in there.
That's Cimetta's house... the
first real murder after the war.
Her lover cut her up and threw
the pieces into the canals.
A little dirty, your Venice.
Yes.
A humorist said "Venice is like
an old lady with bad breath."
A ghost that speaks at night
lives in that palace.
It says strange words
in an unknown language.
Some fauna!
This is a distant relative.
He's from the country.
I wonder if he's talented.
We shall see.
Who needs talent today?
Goodbye.
Look at them.
The remnants of a fleeing army.
Stateless vagabonds
All rebellious Absaloms,
victims of their hair.
- Are you crazy?
- I was joking.
They too are lost.
Destroyed by too much help
and understanding.
Go. What's stopping you?
Bye, Uncle.
Since some of you
are new here...
The others are old pupils.
Here are a few words
for the new ones.
The others are free to listen.
- This will be my third time.
- There will be many more times.
Drawing makes a good painting,
not colour.
If you think colour can hide
a bad drawing,
you're grossly mistaken
Because the drawing underneath
always comes out. And it shows.
Like tits under a beautiful
girl's blouse.
Has Lucia arrived?
Lucia!
I'm here. I missed my ferry.
I came by motorised gondola.
Is that why you're late?
The gondola ran out
of petrol.
You're so good
at telling fibs.
This elegant line
from the shoulders to the hip...
Try to do it
with just one stroke.
With just one stroke.
Don't overdo the chiaroscuro.
Your bum's getting rounder.
Is this your first time
in a nude class?
No. I've been many times.
This is my first time.
In your experience,
do these models
screw around at all?
What are you saying?
Modelling is a serious job.
Some hot coffee
for these nice kids.
Lucia,
can you help me?
Coffee's here.
Just what I needed.
Thanks
Sugar?
Two... Three...
Two or three?
Three.
Are you new here?
Yes, It's my first day.
- One or two?
- Two.
One.
- Are you reading word puzzles?
- Yes.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I don't work them out.
But they still facinate me.
It's the link between
such diverse things...
A king,
a farm and two bulls...
a fisherman casting his net...
a tall girl
next to a grave...
and all those mysterious
letters here and there...
a, q, m, r...
Poetry...
Surrealism...
At times I think I'd love
to live inside a word puzzle.
Isn't it so? Don't we all
live in a word puzzle?
Darling, you've been inside
all day.
Have a stroll with Annetta
before turning in.
I can go with you if you like.
No no no.
I want to show you my library.
Right.
A stroll will do me good.
See? The idea of going out
makes her feel better already.
- Have you noticed?
- What?
That every woman
has a special smell.
Men and women, we all have
our own individual smell.
True. But women smell
of vegetables.
Strindberg...
Strindberg said
women smelt of celery.
I'd go further.
Some smell of celery,
others, of rosemary...
radish, artichoke,
cabbage...
Because, among all living
creatures,
woman is the closest
to the vegetable species.
- Don't you think?
- Go on.
I think
woman is the transition
between the animal
and the vegetable kingdoms.
Woman is the link
joining the two.
So long, Tino. Engineer,
I'm going on my health stroll
Can you smell it?
A delicate fragrance of celery.
- Pardon?
- Nothing, dear.
Are you going out like that?
I'm covered. It's not cold.
I think I noticed
a light fog outside.
It denotes dampness.
I don't know if you should...
I'd say no.
You coughed a lot last night.
- Maybe a little.
- No, my dear. A lot.
You'd be asking
for trouble.
You're right.
You'll be better off at home.
I'll read something for you.
Now. Do you know
what's in here, Tino?
All Hölderlin's poems.
Here's a beautiful one
from his schizophrenic period.
When he thought he was
Scardanelli, the cobbler.
I have enjoyed
the pleasures of life.
The joy of youth
has long gone.
April, May and June
are past. And...
Now I'm nothing.
Life has lost its appeal.
It sounds nicer in German.
Doesn't it sound nicer
in German, dear?
- What are you doing?
- Nothing!
I was looking for a drink.
I was thirsty.
Don't you know
where the kitchen is?
Good night.
Good night, Uncle.
Yes?
- I don't want to impose.
- Come, in Tino.
- What's up?
- Nothing. How's your headache
It's gone this morning.
Sit down.
Thank you.
- Shouldn't you be at school?
- It's an hour later today.
- Do you mind if I smoke?
- No
Thank you.
Did you sleep well?
Were you cold?
No. I slept very well.
Just that...
Just what?
- Who plays the piano?
- What piano?
Last night I heard
someone playing a tune...
I seem to know.
It went...
- As if a child were playing it.
- Why a child?
I don't know. Children have
a hesitant way of playing.
Maybe it wasn't a child.
- Who was it?
- Nobody.
Perhaps a neighbour,
from a house nearby.
I don't know which one.
The sea breeze carries in
every voice and noise.
That music comes from outside.
But I don't know from where.
I don't.
You always say you love me.
Show me then.
- Would you kill yourself for me?
- No.
But I'd injure myself
badly for you.
Hi, Lucia.
Hi.
- No. Please don't...
- Let me get out.
- You look even better dressed.
- Nice of you to say that.
When a boy meets a girl
he usually wonders what
she looks like undressed.
- I have already...
- Forget it.
What's your name?
Tino Zanetti.
Lucia Pandin.
- Lived in Venice a long time?
- Since birth.
- How old are you?
- Almost 18. And you?
- Nineteen.
- Gee, you're old!
By the way, who was the man
with the beard?
- Did you see me?
- Yes, vaguely.
Not so vaguely.
You walked past me twice.
- Did you notice?
- Of course. I'm not blind.
Why didn't you say hi?
- He's jealous
- Jealous? Why?
Haven't you got it?
He was my lover.
You fool!
He's my uncle
Nice man
He looks like an artist.
He's an artist in his field.
He's a plumber.
Auntie?
Aunt Elisa?
- Isn't anyone home?
- Just you and me.
- Your uncle's out.
- Is Auntie out too?
Yes. Charity work.
She went to the hospice.
- Where?
- The hospice.
She donates money and clothes
forgetting the paupers near her.
Neglecting this poor old woman
who would love to retire.
And enjoy
a nice bottle of wine.
- Care for a cup of coffee?
- Yes.
- Annetta?
- Yes...
Can I ask you a question?
Who lives on top of my room?
What do you care?
Think of studying, eating
and being merry.
Annetta, please,
answer my question.
There's nobody.
Heavens above!
It must have been the rats.
We have plenty of those.
With all the houses in Venice,
how did you end up here?
Think of pretty girls instead.
They'll go crazy
for a handsome boy like you.
Get yourself a girlfriend.
And at night,
you'll serenade her.
Goodbye.
Wait.
Master Tino...
Promise you won't say a word.
Then I'll take you up there.
Come along.
- But you mustn't laugh.
- What?
- Speak softly.
- Where are we going?
Sooner or later,
they would have told you.
Someone lives in the room
just above yours. A sick man.
- Who?
- Mr Stolz's brother.
He's gone barmy, the poor man.
Come.
He hasn't left his room
for years.
He only sees his brother.
You'll see him through
the peep-hole. Don't be afraid.
He's a happy man
with his funny face...
One day he kept going
like this with his two fingers.
So I played "2"
on the Venice lotto.
And I won 48,000 lira.
Come.
Have a peep.
- I see nobody.
- Just wait.
We'd better go now.
Shut the peep-hole.
Doesn't he look like a snake?
When he sticks out his tongue
he's quite a sight.
I wonder what's in his mind.
Did you see how he waggles
his red tongue?
He's a real swine.
At times he lifts up his robe
to shock me.
I was a nurse in World War 1.
I've seen a few.
Imagine if I...
Madam's back.
- It's quite painful, my dear.
- What?
Having him here,
above our heads.
Despite his silence, we know
he exists and thinks.
Maybe he even hates us...
Squatting like an animal...
Can you help me?
Annetta was wrong, though.
She had no authority.
It's my fault.
I asked her...
You'd have found out anyhow.
But...
what really happened?
I didn't know
Uncle had a brother.
His name's Berto.
He was a science lecturer.
Suddenly one day,
he was taken ill.
He lost his mind.
He's a maniac but harmless.
- Is he always up there?
- Always.
So he plays the piano
at night?
No.
Who does then?
Don't make me talk.
I beg of you.
Be kind.
Don't ask questions.
Are you my friend?
Do you promise?
Of course, Auntie.
Good.
I'm not a curious person,
but those strange noises...
I won't tell Uncle if you like.
The oddest thing is that
Berto doesn't speak any more.
He used tp speak a lot,
and sing too, like a tenor.
Not a word now,
not even to his brother.
Your uncle's a saint.
He washes and shaves him
every morning.
He cuts his nails
and makes his bed.
No one's allowed in there.
Only Fabio keeps a key.
- Do you visit him?
- Never.
Fabio would be furious if he knew
we were discussing it.
Your uncle's very good.
But he can be quite mean too.
- What are you doing?
- Nothing, just closing it.
I'm sorry
I thought you were...
Why would you open it?
You have no reason.
See, Tino. We're survivors
of a great empire,
heirs of the Habsburgs.
Our forebears and fathers
of Venice, Trieste in my case,
all spoke Goethe's sweet
tongue as their second language.
To think we learn that the
Austrians were all ruthless.
What?
On the contrary, they were
honest and able administrators.
And strict educators too.
But for Italy's unification
we'd be part of civilised Europe.
Churches are deserted.
Only cinemas are full.
That's where today's people
go for confession.
- So you saw him.
- Who?
My brother...
the demented one.
- I'm sorry.
- You needn't apologise.
Silence is better than lies.
In fact my brother was
a noble soul.
A respected science professor.
Insects were his main interest.
He devised
an interesting theory.
That is, God is to be sought
below not above us.
He thought
we were more likely
to find evidence of God
in insects.
"Why look to the sky
when thinking of God?
"Let's look down and study
more mysterious forms of life.
"God... is an ant.
"God's a bee. We must
look for God amid the insects."
Once he removed a crucifix
from above his bed
and hung up a magnified
picture of a scorpion.
We really got along.
I envied him in a way.
I had opted for a somewhat
dull career.
Engineer with the
Gas Company.
Whereas he...
he had chosen the absolute,
the great mysteries of nature,
an unknown world,
a wonderous world.
Don't think that as a scientist
he was a slave to his work,
his research, not at all.
Not at all. He gave himself
fully to living.
Especially to love.
He was hardly 20 when
he knew a tragic love for...
Well, I won't go
into the details.
It was an overwhelming love.
For a girl who turned out to be
different from her image.
It left him
with an incurable wound.
- Is that what caused...
- Yes. Maybe the catalyst.
But I put it down to ancestral,
familial factors.
Madness is like a sprite creeping
randomly into people's heads.
At times every two generations.
So, one day,
he started forming an idea,
a phobia, a whim...
It's always a whim
that drives us to madness.
He started to fear that his face
was slipping off his head,
sliding down his chest
to his feet
and vanishing on the floor.
- Understand?
- Not really.
A spinechilling obsession.
He took to looking at himself
in the mirror more often
to check whether his nose
or eyes had in fact descended
With a ruler, every day,
he'd measure the distance
between his nose and hairline.
- He was mad all right.
- Mind you, there is...
there's a psychological
explanation to his mania.
The fear of seeing one's face
slip off
is nothing but fear
of losing one's identity.
Losing oneself.
Know what that is?
A mental asylum.
How could I let my brother
die in there?
Possibly strapped to a bed?
Look!
Poor souls!
Guilty only of rejecting common
sense and its vile rules.
Hello, Minister!
Come and keep me company.
Do you know why
they're locked up?
Because like kids,
the insane know the truth.
And people fear the truth.
Has he been in that room since,
seeing nobody?
Nobody except me.
He's in there with his toys,
his things...
He's quite well equipped
He even has movie-cameras,
microscopes...
He loathes clocks though.
He can't stand their ticking.
My brother would often
come here before becoming...
a recluse.
He loved this long
abandoned oil tanker.
He'd stare at her for hours.
Then suddenly he'd yell out
a word.
A name... Eufrasio.
I wonder why.
Eufrasio.
That's how he yelled.
Who knows why?
Until recently there was
some rationale to his madness.
He'd film interesting,
curious material.
There was order,
logic to it.
He was very interested
in spiders, arachnids...
scorpions...
and in the dipterans...
which are, as you don't know,
what we commonly call flies.
Nature can be so cruel.
A sharp, but above all,
very original remark.
Here is a film
shot a few years later.
He had already lost interest
in living things.
What?
Who included that footage?
I don't know.
I didn't do it.
That's enough.
Let's move to the table.
Tino, some wine please.
- It's your third glass.
- No, Engineer. My second.
No, your third
It's your birthday soon.
What would you like?
Forget it. I'm too old
for presents now.
I think I'll have a drop.
Enough, darling.
It's bad for your skin.
We must give you a present
though.
A diligent boy like you
deserves it.
It's a shame today's youth has
lost interest in such things.
Here.
You see, Tino...
my father gave me these
on my 18th birthday.
American duelling pistols
from 1830. Look.
Such elegant lines.
Nothing's more perfect than arms
and musical instruments.
A pistol in particular,
has a rational,
essential type of beauty.
Some things may remind you
of other things.
But a pistol can only ever
remind you of a pistol.
- Please don't do that.
- Why?
- Think I could kill you?
- No.
Yes.
You think it's possible.
So little do we know
each other.
The chiropodist's arrived.
Accidents happen to all of us.
Every day people fall
into a canal.
But not her.
She's as reliable as bad luck.
It's no good
covering up things.
You're an adult.
- Did you notice that girl?
- Yes.
She's one of those.
She comes every Thursday...
for the professor.
His mind may be sick
but he's still a man.
We have to accept it.
Charity doesn't only mean
alms and kind words.
Besides, what the poor woman
is forced to do
is anything but fun
or pleasure.
Does Uncle go with her
upstairs?
Of course. He stays there
the whole time.
He doesn't trust him.
And I can see why.
God only knows
what could happen.
Having to watch all that
must be...
Once we thought
we should change.
Mr Stolz took on the demeaning
task of finding another,
of negotiating with her...
All in vain. He wouldn't
accept any other woman.
We trust her. She comes
and goes so discreetly.
Like a nurse.
Nurse my foot! She's a whore.
Why not say so?
I'll make him disinfect
himself.
He's so polite. He walks her
to the door and shakes hands.
This is Vermeer's
Sleeping Girl.
Next time I'll go through
its virtues and beauty.
Today we'll discover
something else.
This is a detail
of the painting.
Look very carefully.
This isn't a still life
by Cézanne
Here is an enlargement of it.
Sandokan, come and lift up
these apples.
Hold up the Cézanne.
Aren't they similar?
And isn't this a Burri?
Just like this one.
What did modern artists
invent? Nothing!
- Rascal!
- How dare you?
- I'm going, Sir.
- Good day, my dear.
What I mean is
that everything the moderns do
can be found
in the old masters.
But in their paintings
we find a lot more too.
Get the idea,
you jackasses?
Especially you, Francesca.
And you, Tino.
Where's that baboon gone?
He plays with toys like a kid.
He shoots short films too.
Films about what?
Insect behaviour, for instance,
ants, spiders...
My uncle showed me a few.
Aren't you afraid of living
with a madman?
I am. But I feel sorry
for him.
Yesterday, I went to see him
unbeknown to anyone.
- What was he doing?
- Having coffee.
- Nothing wrong with that.
- Sure.
But he poured it into his saucer
and then lapped it up.
Disgusting
- Like this place? It's famous.
- The come from everywhere.
Especially America.
Writers, film stars...
That one must be
an American writer.
That's the owner doing his
accounts. He makes money.
- It's pricey. Can you pay?
- Of course.
They look like statues.
Let's wake them up.
- It won't be easy.
- Let me try.
- What's going on?
- A Swiss dropped in, then out.
Some people!
Venice has become unlivable.
Come in.
- I'm off.
- Okay, Annetta.
- You'll be home alone.
- Alone?
Well, not really.
You've got him.
- Who is it?
- Me. Lucia
- I'm so happy to see you.
- What's come over you?
They've all gone out.
I'm home alone.
- With him.
- Him?
- Where are you going?
- I don't want to intrude.
I'm alone.
How could you intrude?
- Where are you taking me?
- Let's have a drink.
- What brings you here?
- Aren't you glad?
Yes, of course.
- Where is he?
- In the attic.
- Can I see him?
- Do you really want to?
- Yes... I do.
- Let's go, then.
What a sitting room!
Your relatives must be wealthy.
Little Red Riding Hood goes
to see the Big Bad Wolf.
- This way.
- After you.
Watch your step.
Come.
- Afraid?
- No, But...
I'm here.
Come along
Careful. He might hear you.
I can't see him.
- Oh, it's you.
- Let me see.
What a fright!
My heart's pounding.
- Can you feel it?
- I sure can.
What's that?
Look!
Pretty, isn't it?
What's this?
Cute...
You'll be Lelio,
and I, Rosaura.
Miss Rosaura, you're so lovely.
Spare a kiss.
- What? I'm a decent girl
- And I am a decent boy.
I'll give you my heart, and my
father's estate when he dies.
Forget it. I'm engaged
to Fabrizio, the servant.
Marry him, and let me be
your lover.
- Are you hurt?
- No.
I've never been in here before.
- Quite pretty.
- Yes.
- Who was that girl?
- A school friend.
We weren't doing anything bad.
We came in here by chance...
There's something new
in the sun today.
Or in fact, ancient
How mean! He's not to speak
to me that way again.
I swear I'll never let him
talk to me like that again.
I've asked Jesus to forgive me.
- Let's go, Gino.
- Where are you going?
- To a lecture.
- Aren't you saying goodbye?
Yes, Auntie.
- Can you get there late?
- I can even skip it.
Are you ill?
Anything I can do?
No. I'm better now.
Sit with this sick woman.
God, I've changed.
My face... my eyes...
everything's so grey.
It's the start
of my effacement.
I'm discovering that years
are like an eraser.
A light and invisible eraser.
It slowly goes over our eyes,
nose, mouth...
making everything blurred,
confused...
I can feel it going over my face
time and time again.
- You're partly to blame too.
- Me?
Yes.
In a way you've awoken things
I wanted to forget.
You've made me think...
recollect...
And memories hurt.
- I didn't mean to hurt you.
- No. You did the right thing.
With your thirst
for knowledge...
I know I have to keep quiet,
avoid asking questions
and wandering at night.
I've apologised to Uncle
I'm doing the same to you
Take the box out of that
first drawer over there.
Bring it to me.
Here it is. Look.
My little one.
- This must be...
- Beba.
- Your daughter?
- Yes. My daughter.
From my first marriage.
When I met your uncle I was a
widow with a 10-year-old child.
A sweet, gentle
and sensitive girl.
She loved music
and dance.
I can still see her
in her tutu,
a pretty little ballerina.
She loved Fabio.
And he loved her...
like his own daughter.
Then Fabio had to leave
on business for two months.
Right at that time his brother
came to visit.
He was back from a long trip
He was already ill.
Naturally he grew fond
of the little girl.
He was a lonely,
unhappy man.
Beba was sweet, radiant...
full of life.
She smothered him
with caresses, kisses...
In a very innocent way,
naturally...
very innocent.
But the professor was
no innocent man.
The girl's slender arms
around his neck...
her unstoppable kisses
on his forehead, his cheeks...
on his lips at times...
the presence of her lithe,
blonde figure...
awoke a violent passion
in him.
Or even love,
if we want to call it that.
The little girl was upset...
disturbed.
I saw her cry more than once.
He'd told her everything.
He begged her for love
as if she were a woman...
capable of understanding.
He'd send her flowers
buy her dresses...
bracelets...
bracelets
for her slim wrist.
He'd charm her.
He'd fascinate her
with his bizarre talks...
his tales of anguish...
softly, whilst staring at her
with his demented eyes.
And once the child
was totally besotted by him
he'd grab her and kiss her
desperately... passionately.
If you knew
why didn't you stop him?
- Speak to him?
- I knew nothing.
I found out much later.
- You said you saw her cry.
- But I didn't know why.
I swear, Tino.
One day he suddenly became
violent... agressive.
The child was frightened.
I was out.
In tears, she ran
towards the canal.
When they fished her out
she was dead.
And he's shut himself away
since...
as a prisoner...
prisoner of his own remorse.
Can you hear him?
He can't find any rest.
He never sleeps.
He hasn't had any peace
since that day.
- What does horehound mean?
- Not during the recitative!
God Almighty! Always
during the recitative!
You're so good at spoiling
a mood
- You can talk.
- Okay. Forget about it.
The concert's over.
- So, what was the word?
- Never mind.
You can't back down now.
I must educate you, right?
- Well? What word was it?
- Horehound, I think.
We don't need a dictionary
for that.
Horehound is a plant
with small white flowers
Satisfied?
It's amazing how insensitive
women are
to all things spiritual.
Your aunt, for instance,
who's not so silly after all,
enjoys holding a book
now and again,
flicking through it,
reading here and there...
But they're nothing but
haphazard, empirical readings.
It's not true culture.
Want and example?
She can never put a book back
in the right place.
It would be worse if she didn't
put it back at all.
Tidiness doesn't bother me.
The fact is, the poor woman
still hasn't grasped the idea
that some writers
find it painful
to sit next to each other.
Recently she took out Ulysses,
bitter, difficult reading.
Know where she put it
back in the library?
Next to Goethe's works.
How can anyone put Joyce
and Goethe side by side?
The sublimina,
imperturbable Goethe!
How could they not help
loathing each other?
Where does Joyce belong?
Next to the great clowns
of language and literature..
Next to Rabelais, Gadda,
Folengo, Celine...
Only a stupid
and insensitive woman
would try to make Joyce
and Goethe live together.
Good night, Tino.
Have fun.
Are we being ironic
my sweet tyrant?
You resent being called stupid?
But you are.
Stop torturing me!
I'll end up killing myself!
Kill yourself?
You've been dead for years.
You're a corpse. And I'm
rotting away next to you.
Like the past, when they tied
a living person to a corpse.
You're right.
But you're the corpse.
Do you know why
I married her?
One day I didn't know
what to say to her...
So I told her I loved her.
Poor woman...
She's been a nervous wreck
ever since.
- She told you, didn't she?
- No.
The tone of your voice
tells me yes.
It's a habit of hers...
ridding herself of guilt
by blaming others,
like my poor brother,
who's totally innocent.
I must be frank with you.
You know too much now.
You see...
young Beba...
my wife's child
from her first marriage
was pure,
totally devoid of malice.
She grew fond of me,
like a real father.
Suddenly, Elise...
was overcome by unfounded
jealousy towards her.
She was jealous of our hugs,
our caresses...
I could tell from the suspicious
way she looked at us.
Yes...
Elisa came to hate
little Beba.
- She caused her death.
- What are you saying?
Yes...
Beba was taken ill...
bronchitis with pulmonary
complications...
Nothing major, with the right
treatment and medication...
But Elisa neglected all that.
She even forgot
the injections,
suddenly...
Beba got worse.
- And we couldn't save her.
- That's terrible.
I don't believe you.
No mother could...
Beba died because of Elisa.
And she lies there...
in our family vault.
Where I wanted her buried.
And where I hope I'll be able
to join her soon.
What else do you want
to know?
I don't know. Uncle lied.
Or Auntie did.
Listen.
You'll never know the truth.
- Besides, who cares?
- You're right.
I'm involved.
I can't ignore it.
Really! The cause of death
won't be written on the grave.
Something doesn't jell.
My aunt's still very young.
When was Beba born?
When did she die?
Let's go and see.
It must be over there.
Strange,
Beba's name isn't here.
Of course, it's a nickname.
It's Slav for doll.
Didn't you know?
No, I didn't know.
She could be the one,
Barbara Stolz 1920-1968.
Can't be.
She died at 48.
What about that blank stone?
Know where the Gas Company is?
Of course. I'm from Venice.
Third bridge to the left.
Damn! You scared my fish away!
Bugger it!
- We Don't have a Mr Stolz.
- My uncle. He works here
Not to my knowledge. Augusto,
do you know a Mr Stolz?
Stolz?
I don't remember him.
I've never heard the name.
Ever.
Now I remember,
Stolz, the engineer
Of course.
A very tall man...
quite handsome too.
I thought he was dead.
He worked here years ago.
- Some 12 even 15 years ago.
- I told you. He's left.
- Happy birthday, Master Tino.
- Thank you.
Blow
This is my present, vermouth.
- This is from me.
- Thank you, Uncle.
With my best wishes.
You can buy what you like.
- Thank you, everyone.
You shouldn't have.
Presents give pleasure
to the giver.
I went to your office today.
Very good.
- What were you talking about?
- Nothing.
Tino and I are going out
together tonight.
So much study calls
for a break.
But it's so cold.
It's not cold. Besides,
we'll be well sheltered.
Perhaps Tino would sooner...
Are you deciding for him?
Don't you want to let him
make up his own mind?
He appears to be old enough
Careful.
What are you doing?
Give it to me.
An additional toast
to your birthday.
Plum liqueur, a great
stimulant at this hour.
It will brace you up.
It's cold outside.
Frankly, It's quite cold
in here too.
This room's so glum.
You said it was today
at midday.
I bet that dreadful gas building
hasn't changed one iota.
Somber, grey...
murky water, greenish-grey.
Inside, It's like an anthill.
You have no idea of its many
stairs, landings, mezzanines,
little offices like kennels...
Is the caretaker Augusto
still there? A wiry, old man?
Yes, an old man.
I don't know his name.
Maybe you won't believe it,
but I feel that...
that words such as... gas,
yes, gas, sound preposterous.
Paroxytone words
are already quite droll.
Take engineer, or more so
sur... surveyor,
assessor...
But monosyllables
such as gas...
Not to mention apocopated words
such as compo...
a compo claim, a compo case,
compo... just listen to it.
Rego, commo, cuppa,
uni, telly, pub...
Simply irresistible!
One of these days...
I'll show you my collection
of dictionaries... 22 of them.
- Sorry. Had I known...
- Please don't apologise.
Excuses, justifications...
leave all that out.
We ought to remember
Homer's words.
"Be calm, my heart.
You've suffered far worse."
- Why are you staring at me?
- No reason.
- Are you afraid of me?
- No.
You needn't be afraid of me.
I can do you some good.
Come on.
Let's go and talk in a cafe.
That's the girl!
- Is it good?
- Yes.
I'm glad.
I love them too.
Those little logs,
what do we know about them?
- I really can't, sir.
- Oh, go on.
- There. Is it nice?
- Yes, very.
Give it to me, then.
Come.
I'm not crazy about sweets
but I love the game.
That Daniela there,
so pretty, so obliging...
My dear Fabio...
more and more handsome.
Tino, before you is
the Duke himself.
This must be your nephew.
I heard...
Yes, he is.
He went to see me at the
office... the Gas Company.
How clever of him.
What can I say? Blessed youth!
Blessed innocence!
Sorry, I couldn't help it.
Forgive me, but the Duke and I
are very old friends.
His presence helps me speak.
The fact is
I don't have a job.
I haven't worked
for 15 years.
So I live on the estate...
my wife's estate.
Yes.
This isn't my business.
I'd better leave.
Don't you move.
I can't explain everything.
It would take me years.
Tell me why I should work.
Why?
If I don't have a purpose,
a child...
Do you find me prosaic?
I'll be right back.
I won't forgive him.
But don't think badly of him.
Someone who did what he did
for his wretched brother...
Buried alive...
a life of misery.
- Is the train going tonight?
- After one. Roulette is first.
You'd better hurry, then.
It's drizzling.
- I can't guess your age, son.
- Nineteen.
Nineteen!
No occultism please, Fabio
Come on. Let's go, Tino.
You, hurry up.
- Where are we going, Uncle?
- To discover an unknown Venice.
I'm so glad to see you.
Who's the good-looking lad?
My nephew.
Come along.
You can't stay without a tie.
That's better.
- A little cognac?
- Leave the bottle with me
Four, black even.
- Any money?
- The money fron Auntie.
Come on.
Take it out of your pocket.
Here... on eleven.
10 on eleven, please.
Six... actually six and nine
split.
Christ!
- Aren't you playing?
- Yes, I am.
Nineteen red, odd.
- You bring bad luck.
- Nineteen.
Is nineteen yours?
You've bloody won!
Nineteen's ours.
Sit down. Stay here.
Good for you.
I'll take this.
I need it to recover.
Don't move or I'll eat you up.
I eat kids, don't I?
They must have told you.
We'll play these on alternate,
odd numbers 1-3-5-7-9...
Here...
13579...
E, u, a, i, o...
Eufrasio.
Know why my brother
kept saying that word?
Because it contains
the five vowels.
Seventeen, nineteen,
twenty-one...
Twenty, black even.
Chemin de fer
is about to start.
Let's try
It will be on credit.
Let me feel your bum.
Come on, Duke.
Play the bat. Fly away.
Know who we're waiting for,
sonny? The casino survivors.
Your uncle plays his last
few coins with them.
- Let's go home, Uncle.
- Yes, of course. Home
Duke, I'm taking
the child home.
Wait here.
I'll be right back
- Let's go.
- I'll go alone.
Why that tone now?
Go alone if you like.
Don't fall into a canal.
Go.
No. I'll wait for you.
Are you crazy?
I'm going... I'm staying...
I give the orders here.
I command you to go.
Off with you!
You're not well.
Let's go.
Don't touch me,
with that alter boy's face.
Go home. Begone!
Good night.
They're coming.
I have a royal flush!
- Duke, I have a royal flush!
- Bravo!
What are you doing here?
Nothing.
You've paid a visit
to the forbidden room, right?
May I offer you something?
Like a cherry chocolate?
It's very nice.
It's delicious.
Listen to that.
It's the cicadas.
It's like a violin
penetrating my brain.
Just listen to it go...
Can you hear the bow stroking,
pressing onto the strings...
cutting...
going round and round
like a chainsaw.
What's up?
Are you afraid of me?
No, it can't be.
You're afraid of your poor,
sick uncle...
half lucid, half insane...
half engineer
and half professor...
like two faces in a mirror...
light area...
and shaded area.
Tino, aren't we all
like that?
You're frightened.
You really are.
You're thinking of poor Beba...
that I let her die...
You think I let her die,
that I'm a crazy criminal...
You didn't let anyone die.
Beba isn't dead.
Isn't she?
Where is she then?
Perhaps she's sick.
She may be in a hospital or...
- Or..
- Or she's hiding in here.
That's right.
Why couldn't she be
right here?
You were here looking for her.
Am I right?
But as you can see
she's not in this room.
But...
wait a moment...
She may be in another room.
Let's see.
She can't hear.
Let's try louder.
- Let's call her, Tino.
- I'm going.
No. I'm afraid
you can't leave now.
Now...
After all that has happened...
consumatum est.
Come here.
Can you hear her?
She's coming up.
Here she is.
Come.
Don't be afraid.
Come closer.
You shouldn't have...
you shouldn't have told him.
Your tutu, Beba...
your ballet shoes
- I can't wear them any more.
- Why?
They don't fit any more.
I'm a big girl now.
- Try them on.
- You know I can't.
Stop it, Fabio!
It's absurd... totally absurd.
Then, Beba...
I loved her
while she was a child...
while she was innocent,
for youth is innocent.
I wanted to make her youth
last for ever.
But everything decays,
becomes corrupt.
She grew up...
became someone else...
and killed my little girl.
The little girl I loved.
Any messages for Mr Sattin
I'll send him a letter.
I've realised I'm no painter.
- Pity. Painters earn heaps.
- The good ones do.
A picture by me isn't worth
the canvas it's painted on.
- Where are you going?
- Back home.
- Bye. Write to me.
- What's your address?
- What?
- Your address?