Avanti! (1972) - full transcript

Baltimore industrialist Wendell Armbruster crosses paths with London shop girl Pamela Piggott when they come to Ischia to pick up the bodies of her mother and his father, who have been killed in an automobile accident after a ten-year summertime affair. Straitlaced Wendell tries to avoid a scandal while free-spirited Pamela is impressed by the romantic setting. After some confusion with the bodies and a blackmail attempt by unscrupulous locals, Wendell and Pamela extend their parent's affair into the next generation.

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- Il suo nome, per favore.
- Hm?

- Your name, please.
- Armbruster. Wendell Armbruster Jr.

- You are from where?
- Baltimore. It says all that right on the...

- Your profession?
- Executive.

If you must know, I'm vice president
of Armbruster Industries.

What is purpose of your visit to Italy?

- To pick up a body.
- A body.

A corpse.

- Whose corpse? Maybe Dr Fleischmann.
- Dr Fleischmann?

- The man whose passport you are using.
- Oh, uh... Wait a minute. I can explain.

He and I exchanged clothes. We forgot
to exchange passports. He must be here.

I was on the golf course
when I got the bad news about my father.

He was killed in a car accident in Ischia.

I had 30 minutes to make funeral
arrangements if I was to catch the plane.



I had no time to change, and how would it
look if I showed up here in plaid pants?

Quest'uomo ha un passaporto falso.
Portatelo via. This way, Dr Fleischmann.

I am not Dr Fleischmann.
I'm Mr Armbruster.

I am not Mr Armbruster.
I'm Dr Fleischmann.

Look. I just did this guy a favour.

He tells me his father is dead.
What am I gonna do?

Ah! There he is.
There he is. Dr Fleischmann!

That's him.

- What the hell did you get me into?
- I'm sorry.

This is his passport. Here.

That is mine. Hm?

- OK? All clear?
- Yes.

- May I go?
- No.

- Why not?
- Because passport must be stamped.

- Well, then, stamp it.
- You have to go back to end of line.

Oh... I know you foreigners. I know
how you love to push Americans around.

But my father's lying
in a morgue someplace.

Listen. I've got to get a train
to Naples and a boat to Ischia.

If you guys give me a bad time,
if there is the slightest hitch,

if I don't get him to Baltimore
for that funeral on Tuesday

there's going to be such a scandal.

Eulogy, first draft.

We have gathered here
to bid goodbye to a good man.

A rare man. A much-beloved man.

Wendell Armbruster Sr
was an old-fashioned man.

I mean that
in the noblest sense of the word.

In these days
of defeatism and disillusionment

he was one who believed in duty
to his country, devotion to his family,

and dedication to his work.

Not bad.

He died suddenly and tragically,
far away from his loved ones,

alone in a distant land where he used
to go to rest his mind and heal his body.

He was a philanthropist.
A pillar of the Church.

A tireless crusader of all that is decent

and an ensign in the Coast Guard
during World War II. Friends...

if I may borrow... Yes?

I was wondering. Are you Mr Armbruster?

I'm certainly not Dr Fleischmann,
so don't you start.

- Why are you shouting at me?
- My name is Armbruster. What about it?

I thought that's what you'd look like,
but I didn't expect you to be so rude.

What the?

Friends, if I may borrow
the words of a famous poet

"Lives of great men all remind us..."

Excuse me, but are you following me?

No, Mr Armbruster. Not really.

- How come you know my name?
- I know a lot of things about you.

You're 42, you live in Baltimore,
you have a wife and two children,

and you're a former president
of the Junior Chamber of Commerce.

Oh, you read the Newsweek article, right?
Huh? Business and finance.

Incredible, isn't it? The weather, I mean.

Especially to someone
who lives in London.

Last year, summer was two days in June
and three days in August.

- Have you ever been to Italy before?
- No.

Neither have I. As a matter of fact,
I've never been anyplace.

It's a little frightening,
first time in a strange country.

In Italian, everything sounds
like it's from an opera.

"Non c'è sapone nel bagno."
Do you know what that means?

- What?
- There's no soap in the bathroom.

- How about that.
- And when you're in a ristorante -

that's a restaurant - do you know
there are 16 different kinds of pasta?

"Spaghetti, spaghettini, maccheroni,
cannelloni, rigatoni, tortellini, fettuccine,

manicotti, gnocchi, linguine, ravioli..."

Of course, I... I can't eat any of that.

I don't know if you noticed
but... I have this weight problem.

I noticed that.

And in the hotel, before a maid enters
your room, she asks "Permesso?"

And if you want her to come in,
you say "Avanti." Forward.

You should really get yourself
this little book.

I know all the Italian I need to know.

Ciao.

Arrivederci.

- Mr Armbruster Jr.
- Yes.

My name is Carlucci. Carlo Carlucci.

- I am the director of the hotel.
- How do you do?

I sorrow for you in your bereavement.
My deepest condolences.

- And my apologies.
- What are you apologising for?

That it should happen in Italy,
on an Italian road, in an Italian car.

- He was a bad driver.
- No. It was a bad curve.

As Verdi said "La forza del destino."

- An act of God.
- Where did they put him? Where is he?

A very nice place.
The municipal morgue.

- What are we waiting for?
- Your luggage.

This is it.

- How far is the morgue?
- It is in the other direction.

- I wanna see the old boy.
- The morgue, I'm afraid she is closed.

- It is the lunch hour.
- It's 2.30.

- In Italy, lunch hour is from one to four.
- Three hours for lunch?

Mr Armbruster...

here we do not rush to drugstore
for chicken sandwich and Coca-Cola.

Here we take our time. We cook our pasta.
We sprinkle our parmigiano.

- We drink our wine. We make our love.
- What do you do in the evening?

In the evening we go home to our wives.

Crazy.

Exactly how did the accident happen?

I don't know exactly. It was a dark night
and there was that bad curve.

Maybe he did not see it.
Maybe he lost control.

The car plunged straight down a vineyard.
200 metres.

- They must have been killed instantly.
- They?

The police came, and the fire department.
It took hours to get the corpses out.

Corpses? What do you mean, corpses?
How many were there?

- Just two.
- Two?

You see, Mr Armbruster, your father,
he was not alone in the car.

- Well, who was with him?
- Nobody, really. Just an acquaintance.

Another guest at the hotel. They went
for a ride. It's beautiful up there.

You can see the whole Bay of Naples,
Mount Vesuvius, and Pompeii.

Ah. Here we are.

Sure doesn't look like a Hilton.

I accept the compliment.

Ah, signore, this place will never be
the same now that your father has left us.

I'm Bruno, the valet. I hope you have
a pleasant stay in Ischia, considering.

Thank you.

I will take you to your father's suite. It is
on the main floor because of his bad back.

Sometimes he would get a spasm
and we had to carry him to the mud bath.

Yeah. Poor bastard. He really suffered.

It is the price
you executives pay for success.

Decisions, pressures, anxieties.

Naturally, the batteries wear out,
the transistors break down.

121-122.

If you please.

Nothing has been touched.

He always had this suite, for ten years.
July 15 to August 15.

- You must be tired. It's a long trip.
- I'm OK.

Maybe you should take some mud baths.

- No, I had one on the train.
- On the train?

I drank it. They call it "espresso".

Your father, he certainly blossomed here.

On the day he would leave, he would
put his arm around me and say "Carlo..."

He always called me Carlo.

"What an idiot I am to go back to that
rat race. I wish I could stay here forever."

When he started coming here
I thought the place was a phoney.

- A phoney?
- I mean, all this nonsense about mud

and underwater massages
and radioactive springs. Come on.

Mr Armbruster, you may not know it,

but Ischia has been a health resort
for 2,000 years.

The Emperor Tiberius came here
for the gout.

And the Medici. And Caruso.
And Sophia Loren.

Sophia Loren has the gout?

No, no, no. Here we cure everything.

Take Michelangelo.
He had trouble with his kidneys.

He took the waters here and passed
three stones. They're in the museum.

- Permesso?
- Avanti.

- Shall I unpack for you?
- Just put it anywhere.

Mettila sulla scrivania.

Operator? I'd like to make...
You're not out to lunch, are you? Good.

I'd like to make an overseas call
to the United States, Baltimore, Maryland.

Maryland.

M. M, as in Michelangelo.
He used to stay here.

You got it?

Operator? Hello, operator?

- You still there?
- Bruno!

- Uh, the number is 426-9956, area code...
- Queste valigie vanno al 126.

- All right, I'll give it to you slowly. 426...
- Dio mio. Che cretino che sono.

...9956. How are we doing so far?

- Good. Area code 301.
- Vai, vai, vai, vai, vai.

I want to speak
to Mrs Wendell Armbruster Jr.

Yes, it was a great loss.
That's very kind of you.

Would you call me back, please?

They must have liked
my father around here.

Oh, yes. When the news came,
everybody was crying.

The restaurant orchestra stood round his
table and played all his favourite tunes.

Is that so?

As soon as the morgue opens we'll claim
the body and make arrangements...

No, first there are certain formalities
we must comply with.

- What formalities?
- You cannot walk into a foreign country,

point to a body, say "That's Father"
and walk out with him.

Why not? Do they think I go around
collecting dead fathers?

You will have to fill out
some official papers.

Regulations about exporting a corpse.

- Everything must be in triplicate.
- Crap. Fill 'em out.

Certainly. And then there is some
additional crap to be dealt with.

Such as?

We need a certificate that he did not die
from a contagious disease.

Like what? Mumps or measles?
He died from drivin' over a cliff.

We need a certificate that the body
has been properly embalmed.

We need a mortuary passport. This has
to be issued by the authorities in Naples.

Don't bother me with details. Just do it.

You are exactly like your father. You have
to pay for the road sign he knocked over.

- Bad curve ahead.
- Pay it.

- You must settle with the Trotta brothers.
- Who are they?

They own the vineyard where the car
went down. They want damages.

- Well, settle with them.
- They are asking two million lire.

- Then... How much is that?
- $3,500.

$3,500 for a bunch of lousy grapes?
No, let 'em sue.

I agree. They're crooks.
Then there is the problem with the coffin.

- What's the problem?
- For export, a special casket is required.

It must be lined with zinc.
It must be absolutely airtight.

- It must be...
- Well, get one.

There are none in Ischia.

But fortunately,
I have located one in Amalfi.

Then there's no problem, is there?

I want a helicopter to take me to Rome so
there won't be a delay catching the plane.

- The funeral's Tuesday.
- Tuesday?

In the morning. 11.
First Presbyterian Church.

Impossible. You must postpone it.

I... What? What do you mean, postpone it?

So many things to do. This is Saturday.
Tomorrow is Sunday. Nobody works.

Somebody will work.

Mr Armbruster, this is a Catholic country.

Then we'll get a dispensation
from the Pope.

For a Presbyterian?

Come hell or high water
I am out of here by Monday

because at 11 o'clock Tuesday, work at
every Armbruster plant will come to a stop

so the 216,000 employees
can watch the services

on closed-circuit television, in colour.

Puerto Rico gets black and white.

There'll be governors, senators,
congressmen, judges,

the AFL-CIO, the glee club
from the Coast Guard Academy.

The White House is sending Dr Kissinger,
and you want me to postpone it.

No way.

- Permesso?
- Avanti.

Excuse me,
I'm looking for signor Carlucci.

- They told me...
- I am signor Carlucci.

How do you do? I'm Pamela Piggott.

Piggott. Uh...

You are not supposed to be here.
You are in 126.

I know, but I need some help.
All these questions, all in Italian.

Yes, I will be glad to help you.
But not now. I will see you later.

Ow! Dammit!

The faucet says cold
and I burned my hands.

So did I.

Then I looked it up in my book.
C stands for caldo.

But that doesn't mean cold.
It means hot. Freddo means cold.

- It's you again.
- Hello.

- You know each other.
- No, we don't.

- We do. We've been travelling together.
- Look, miss.

On a train there's nothing I can do,
but when you barge into my room...

I assure you, Mr Armbruster,
I'm not trying to pick you up.

I'm here to pick up my mother.
They tell me I can't see her till after lunch.

That's right. The place opens at four.

I hate going there.

I'd much rather remember her
the way she was.

- But I suppose it has to be done.
- Yes, yes.

Wait a minute.

Your mother, uh, where is she?

- In the morgue.
- What's she doing in the morgue?

What do people usually do
in the morgue? She's lying there,

side by side with your father, I expect.

Side by side with my father? Why?

Cos that's the way they were in the car
when the accident happened.

I told you he was not alone. Remember?

- My father and your mother.
- Why not?

You know how it is in a resort hotel.
People meet in the dining room...

- Look, I'm terribly sorry. I had no idea.
- Of course you didn't.

I must have seemed like some sort
of monster. Please forgive me, Miss, uh...

Piggott. Pamela Piggott.

- If there's anything I can do for you...
- Yes, there is.

- Could I have some Kleenex?
- I will get it.

Would you like some brandy?
Or to lie down?

- Don't worry.
- I don't know what to say.

Somehow I feel responsible because
if my father hadn't been driving...

You mustn't feel that way. If it had
to happen it was more or less ideal.

Hm?

Warm night, full moon,
island in the Mediterranean.

At the height of the season.
What more could anyone ask?

Of course,
I'm completely at your disposal.

- Any difficulties, any expenses involved...
- Thank you.

- Wait till you hear about all the red tape.
- I heard.

For instance,
you need a coffin lined with metal.

- Zinc. Better get a couple of those.
- I had trouble finding one.

Come on.
You can dig up a couple of coffins.

You want second-hand coffins?

Is that Mrs Armbruster Sr?

Yes, they would have
been married 45 years this fall.

How sad.

That's my wife, Emily, and the two boys.

That's one thing I envy you Americans for.
You're all so thin. How do you manage it?

Oh. Well, swimming,
horseback riding, golf...

I've tried jogging on Hampstead Heath in
a sweat suit, but never worked up a sweat.

- I just worked up an appetite.
- Oh.

Worked up an appetite.

What's that?

It's a nightgown.

- What's the meaning of that?
- Of what?

- That.
- Oh, that.

It's a mistake.

- Here's another mistake.
- I wanna know what they're doin' in here.

If I'm to get that second coffin
I'd better call...

- Hold it. I want an explanation.
- An explanation.

- Now, let me think.
- I'll help you.

The valet forgot to pack these when he
moved my mother's cases into room 126.

- Right?
- You cannot get decent help these days.

Time.

You mean her mother
and my father were shacked up?

- I don't care for your choice of words.
- They were making it. Better?

Mr Armbruster. Just because two people
are sharing the same suite or the same...

that does not mean
there was anything improper going on.

Now you're being insulting to my mother.
She was a very beautiful woman.

She was. And a lady.
And your father was a gentleman,

so no matter how bad things look,
you must believe me.

I have an uncle in the College
of Cardinals. Would I lie to you?

You're goddamned right.

- They were making it.
- Son of a bitch!

Do you know how old he was? 67.
A grandfather, with a bad back, yet.

- I would be proud if my father were still...
- Aw, shut up.

Your mother oughtta
be ashamed of herself.

- Mother had nothing to be ashamed of.
- She was the perfect lady.

Meets a rich American in the lobby.
One hour later they have drinks.

Two hours later
she moves into his suite and then...

- Actually, they met in the souvenir shop.
- What the hell difference does it make?

That was ten years ago.

Ten years?

- This has been going on for ten years?
- Every summer.

July 15 to August 15.

All the time we thought
he was getting cured he was getting laid?

Mr Armbruster,
this is neither the time nor the place.

Goddamn fool.

- Didn't he care what people think or say?
- It was handled discreetly.

- They signed as Mr and Mrs Armbruster.
- Mr and? Oh, my God. Jesus Christ.

Yes. What?
Am I ready to talk to Baltimore?

No, I'm not ready to talk to Baltimore.
Who's calling?

Oh, I'm calling. Oh, uh, put her on.

Hello, Emily. I'm fine.

The trip was fine.

Just one of those
unfortunate accidents that...

For what it's worth you can tell Mother
he didn't suffer towards the end.

Hm? No, I'm workin' on it.
There's no problems, just red tape.

Oh, questionnaires, permits, where do you
suddenly find two zinc-lined coffins?

Two? I didn't say two.
It must be the connection.

What would I do with two coffins? Huh?

No. I'm sorry.
No, I didn't call the embassy.

They're in Rome and I'm in Ischia.
What are they gonna do for me?

How's Mother? Holdin' up? Uh-huh.
And how are the kids?

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Just a minute, Miss Piggott.
Where are you going?

See you at the morgue.

Um... Um...

How are the funeral
arrangements coming?

What? Who's Miss who?

Piggott. Piggott, Piggott, Piggott.

Miss Piggott.
Oh, she's... in the hotel.

Works here.

As an interpreter.
Of course you need an interpreter.

Even when you go to the bathroom.
In this country, caldo means hot.

- This is the morgue?
- Yes, sir. 17th century.

The walls are that thick.

The coolest place in town.

Cipriani. Mattarazzo dov'è?

Non è venuto ancora.
Dovrebbe essere già qui.

Che facciamo?

Lo so che sono già le quattro.
Ma bisogna aspettare.

Ah. Good afternoon, Miss Piggott.
It's so nice to see you again.

How do you feel?

That's a silly question.
You feel the way I feel. Rotten.

- We will have to wait. He is not here yet.
- Who?

The... giudice istruttore che inquisisce
sulle morti violente. How do you say it?

- The coroner?
- That's it.

- Don't tell me he's still at lunch.
- Very likely. A coroner, he eats well.

He knows all the widows.

- Pretty flowers. What are they?
- In Italian they're tromboncini.

Oh, you don't say.
What are they called in English?

Daffodils.

Now. Miss Piggott, when it comes
to dealing with the authorities,

whatever happened between
your mother and my father,

we're gonna have to be careful, aren't we?

Don't worry about the hotel register.
We fixed it. No more Mr and Mrs.

Let me ask you, moneywise, how you're
fixed? What do you do for a living?

I work in a boutique on the King's Road.

Well... I'm sure you could
use a little money.

Anything within reason.
I'm pretty generous.

You will keep in mind what's been
happening to the stock market?

Since January, Armbruster Industries
has dropped 14 and a half points.

Scusate, ma il traffico era pazzesco.

Signor Mattarazzo, le presento il signor
Armbruster e la signorina Piggott.

Sua madre e suo padre
sono quelli dell'incidente.

Dio agisce secondo
i suoi voleri misteriosi.

E noi non siamo che fili

guidati dalla grandiosa logica
del suo disegno labirintico.

Non siamo che comuni mortali.

- Like music.
- Fragili come gusci d'uovo.

Minuscoli come escrementi di mosca in
quel gigantesco vetro che chiamiamo vita.

Scusi, sa, ma abbiamo un po' di fretta.

OK.

I moduli, prego.

Tutto fatto. Tutto riempito.

Giura Wendell Armbruster Jr
di essere Wendell Armbruster Jr,

e che questa è la salma di suo padre?

Do you swear that you are
Wendell Armbruster Jr,

and this is the body of your father,
Wendell Armbruster Sr?

- I do.
- Lo giura.

OK. Giura lei, Pamela Piggott che questa
è la salma di sua madre, Caterina Piggott?

Do you swear that you are Pamela Piggott

and this the body of your mother,
Catherine Piggott?

Miss Piggott, it is necessary
for you to swear.

I do.

- Lo giura.
- OK.

- Thank you.
- Not at all.

- I'm sorry. Go right ahead.
- OK.

- Any luck with the coffins?
- Yes, sir.

My brother-in-law in Bologna, who is
an undertaker, has two of those caskets.

- He is sending them out on the first train.
- Se i signori vogliono firmare.

- You can sign now.
- Miss Piggott.

- Questo è per lei, signorina.
- Grazie. Lei è molto gentile.

Come on, just sign, please.

Signorina Piggott,
signor Armbruster.

Questa triste circostanza non ha
diminuito il piacere di conoscervi.

Arrivederci.

Not if I can help it.

What happens next?

The red papers go to Naples
for the export licence.

The whites go to Dr Galuppo to certify
there are no communicable diseases.

The green papers stay here
until we get the coffins from Bologna.

- Go on.
- That's all.

- But we have a problem with Naples.
- Like what?

They're closed on Sunday.
But fortunately,

my nephew knows an official
in the licence bureau

and if he can get him to open
the office right after Mass...

If you ask me, Carlucci, any foreigner
who dies in Italy is out of his friggin' skull.

- May I make a suggestion?
- No.

- I have a super idea, I think.
- Save it.

With all this nasty business, zinc coffins,
health certificates and export licences,

why subject them to that?
Why don't we bury them here?

Why don't we what?

There's a lovely cemetery on the hill.
They could be there together.

- They'd like that.
- They would.

- It would solve all the headaches.
- Absolutely.

The Carlucci family. We have a large plot
up there. They would be welcome.

Better yet, why don't we bury them
in the Blue Grotto at high tide?

- Or in Venice, like Romeo and Juliet?
- Verona.

Or we could build a shrine for them,
with an eternal flame.

- It was just an idea.
- They were not the Unknown Soldier.

They were the unknown lovers.
Let's just keep it that way, shall we? Hm?

Let's go, Carlucci.

Ask fat-ass if she wants a ride.

Tell him no, thank you.

He died suddenly
and tragically, far from his loved ones,

alone in a distant land where he used
to go to rest his mind and heal his body.

- Bullshit.
- He was a philanthropist.

A pillar of the Church.

A tireless crusader for all that is decent,
and an ensign in the Coast Guard during...

A dirty old man, that's what he was.
Eulogy, second draft.

Friends, co-workers, stockholders,

we come to bury Wendell Armbruster Sr,
not to praise him.

The evil men do...

Ignore that.

Wendell Armbruster Sr
was a man for all seasons.

Permesso?

Permesso. I mean avanti.

- Buonasera.
- Buonasera.

The suit, I pressed it.
The shirt, it's like new.

Drip and dry. Great invention.

Like electric toothbrush,
roller derby, Alka-Seltzer.

I love America.

That's a switch.

I lived in America. Wonderful people.

So friendly. So kind.

When I left New York,
they took me to airport in limousine.

They put me on plane.
They waved goodbye.

- Who's they?
- The immigration department.

- You were deported?
- Yes.

But first class. In America, when they
deport you, they know how to do it.

Big 747. Window seat.

Beautiful blonde stewardess feeding me
with a spoon all the way across.

- Handcuffs.
- Who'd you work for over there?

- The Mafia? Cosa Nostra?
- Only part time.

You see, by profession
I am a photographer.

That's very interesting.

You know,
you are exactly like your father.

- Not exactly.
- I mean the size.

So I thought if you wanted to change,
here are all your father's clothes.

This is what he wore here, huh?
Plaids, bell-bottoms, two-tone shoes.

He had one conservative suit
but he's wearing it now.

He was a real sport.

See this watch? He left it for me last year.

Spiro Agnew.

And he gave me this lighter.

- Zippo.
- Uh-huh.

- And a camera.
- Is that so?

- A Polaroid.
- Mm-hm.

Never served a nicer guy.

And as for the lady, she was a pussycat.

A natural blonde.
Skin like vanilla ice cream.

Here they are all like black olives.
Me, I prefer vanilla ice cream.

- Here. Get some ice cream. Goodbye.
- Grazie.

They were such a swell couple.

Always laughter, always wine,

and always the sign outside the door - non
disturbare. They never got up until four.

What was there to get up for?
Nothing's open. It's lunch time.

And every night, the orchestra,
it would have to work overtime,

because they would dance until dawn.

- And then you know what they would do?
- No, and I don't care.

When the sun came up over Mount
Vesuvius, they would go swimming.

- No bathing suit, no nothing.
- No nothing?

Like the man says on TV,

in life you only go round once,
so grab all the gusto you can.

Buonanotte.

They were swimming naked,
right outside this hotel?

- Why not?
- Oh, my...

Everybody asleep, nobody watching.

- Except you, I imagine.
- I always get up early to shine the shoes.

And that's where the Polaroid
comes in, I guess.

I couldn't help it. It was so spectacular.
The sun coming up on the Bay of Naples.

- I know, yes, and Vesuvius and Pompeii...
- No, no, no, Mr Armbruster.

I am not a landscape man.
Only portraits and figures.

- How was your focus?
- Perfect. Colour, perfect.

And the water here,
it is perfectly transparent.

So are you, buddy.

- Maybe you want to see the pictures.
- Maybe.

- Maybe I can find them.
- I bet a hundred bucks you can.

It's not a question of money. I just think
any time one American can help another...

Sorry to intrude.
There are important developments.

- Esci da qui. Fuori, fuori.
- Buonanotte.

- What is it now?
- I have good news and I have bad news.

About the coffins. There is a railroad strike
so they put them on a plane.

- The airport is fogged in.
- Naturally.

But it will fog out.
About the health certificate.

I reached Dr Galuppo on the phone,
in the operating room. He cannot come.

Why? How long's it take him to operate?

You do not understand.
They are operating on him. Double hernia.

So now we are trying
to get the doctor from Capri.

- About the export licence...
- Go ahead, pour it on.

You know my nephew in Naples? Well,
he is in Firenze, but he is going to help us.

So he will take the plane from Firenze to
Naples, unless the fog moves to Firenze.

All right, let's have the good news.

That was the good news. The bad news
is... something mysterious has happened.

What?

You remember the bodies
in the mortuary?

- Of course I remember them.
- Well...

they're not there any more.

What do you mean,
they're not there any more?

They are missing. Signor Cipriani says
when he locked up the bodies were gone.

Gone? Gone where?

That is the mystery. When he looked in
at five the bodies were there

and so was Miss Piggott.

Miss Piggott?

Lo ho visto la signorina
alzare la persiana e aprire le finestre.

Ecco.

He saw her pull up the shade
and open the window.

That kook.

That sentimental idiot.

Mr Armbruster, please. You don't think
she took the bodies. That's preposterous.

Preposterous to you and me. But not
to her because she's off her rocker. Hello?

Get me Miss Piggott's room.
I don't know the number.

- 126.
- 126. Just get her.

Let us be logical. How could she manage?
A little girl like that, two bodies.

She's built like
a Japanese wrestler. What?

Well, try the lobby, try the souvenir shop.
How should I know? Get her paged.

Cipriani will have
to report this to the police.

No police.
We don't want any police or reports.

We're gonna handle this.
Get yourself some ice cream.

- You'd better check on that family plot.
- I don't believe it.

- There must be some other explanation.
- What?

Who else is gonna want those bodies?
Dr Christiaan Barnard?

God damn you, Miss Piggott.

Hello, Emily. How are you?
It's Baltimore. Huh?

I'm sorry, no, I know. I thought
you were Miss Piggott, the interpreter.

A ding-a-ling.
She keeps fouling everything up.

I can't fire her. I need her. Um...
No, no, no, no problems.

Just a few loose ends here and there
but I'm on top of the situation.

Yes, Emily, I'm positive
there'll be no postponement.

The State Department? Don't bother.
I don't need any help from them.

Yes. I saw him this afternoon
at the mortuary.

I haven't seen him lately.

How's Mother? Mm-hm.
Well, I hope she's all right for the services.

We don't want any hysterics
with television and everything.

Thank God it'll be a closed casket. You
heard from Billy Graham? Good. Listen.

What do you think if he did the eulogy?
Because I'm emotionally involved and...

Well, ask him. What's all the noise
in the background? Oh.

The kids are watching the Baltimore
Orioles. What's the score? Uh-huh.

Well, um... give 'em my love,
between innings, and, uh, kiss-kiss.

Where the hell is that Piggott?
Carlucci? Carlucci?

- Carlucci?
- I checked with the cemetery.

- No bodies. Miss Piggott...
- What about her?

She is in her room. She will not
answer the telephone or open the door.

Oh, she won't, huh?

126, huh?

126. Ah...

Mr Armbruster, please, no violence.

- This is a first-class hotel.
- Oh, sure.

If she really is a kook, one wrong move,
one push, and she will fall off that rocker.

- God knows what she will do.
- Yeah. Yeah, I'd better play it cool.

Watch me, huh? Caldo. I mean freddo.

Permesso? Hm?

Permesso?

Go away, Mr Armbruster.

Miss Piggott,
would you please open the door?

Go away.

I have this problem because
there's no sapone in my bagno.

There's no soap in my bathroom. Please.

- No.
- No?

Cool. You promised.

Miss Piggott?

Where are you?

Aw, did I wake you up?

Mr Armbruster, if you don't leave
immediately, I shall call the concierge.

I've been giving a great deal
of thought to our relationship.

- Operator?
- I suspect something's wrong with it.

- Operator, get me the concierge.
- We got off on the wrong foot.

I've been called plump.
I've been called pudgy, and chubby.

But I've never been called fat-arse.

- Did I say that?
- You certainly did.

Shame on me.

The truth of the matter is, I kind of like
girls with a little upholstery.

I think most men do. I know we have
this chemical plant in New Jersey.

You know what
our fastest-moving item is, huh?

Silicone for injections.

Take those models in Vogue,
like Twiggy and all the rest.

Nothin' but skin and bones. A man gets
lucky and he ends up black and blue.

You could even cut yourself.
Like makin' it with a pogo stick.

Are you looking for something?

When you first brought up this notion
in the morgue this afternoon...

- What notion?
- About havin' the two buried together.

I didn't think you were really serious.

I'm as sentimental as the next man,
but we're grown-ups,

and if you look at this realistically...

Mm-huh.

Oh... What I'm trying
to say is I can take a joke.

- A joke?
- But...

Lovers resting side by side.
Is that your idea of a joke?

All right, where are they?
What did you do with them?

- I don't know what you mean.
- You do. Quit horsin' around.

I'm not to be shouted at,
under orders of my psychiatrist.

- You got a psychiatrist. I'm not surprised.
- Because of my weight.

He has me on a diet and pills
and self-hypnosis and sleep therapy.

He wants me to sleep a lot
because then you can't eat.

- Sometimes I sleep around the clock.
- Right now, all I wanna know is...

Right now I'm going to have my dinner.
I'm going to hypnotise myself.

If you want a discussion,
come back tomorrow afternoon.

Tomorrow afternoon?
Don't you understand? I'm on a schedule.

You're shouting again
and in my weakened condition -

an apple three times a day
and a teaspoonful of honey...

- Get me the dining room.
- Please call from your own phone.

I'd like to make a reservation for two.
The name is Armbruster. Armbruster Jr.

Oh, really? That would be nice.

Shall we say in about 20 minutes?

- Guess what table we got.
- Just turn off the light and go.

Where they had dinner.
I thought that would be nice,

if we had the same table,
same wine, same music.

You should have heard the maitre d'.
He had tears in his voice.

Miss Piggott, this is no time
to be stubborn or selfish.

This has nothing to do with you or me.
It's more like a farewell gesture to them.

They would like that.

Shall we say in about 20 minutes?

- Ah, Mr Armbruster.
- Hm?

The fog in Bologna, it has moved out.
The coffins are on the way.

Great. We had bodies and no coffins.
Now coffins and no bodies.

I have searched the hotel with
fine-tooth comb. Even the mud baths.

- Mr Armbruster Jr.
- Mm.

Of course, you must be.
Same face, same suit.

- Good evening.
- The table is ready.

- I'm waiting for the young lady.
- Of course. Wait at the bar.

Everything has been anticipated.

- Mr Armbruster, here you are.
- What's that?

A whiskey sour on the sour side, and
for the lady, a Bacardi on the sweet side.

- That's what they used to have?
- Always.

Always.

That's the Baron von Schmetterling.
He's 90 years old.

Been coming here since
before World War I.

Remarkable.
This place must take years off your life.

It certainly does. Every year, his nurses,
they keep getting younger and younger.

I'm sorry to be late.
I had trouble getting into my dress.

- Actually, it's my mother's.
- That's only fair. This is my father's suit.

Here's your drink.

- What's this?
- Bacardi for you, whiskey sour for me.

- That's what they always had.
- Oh. I don't drink.

Oh, look, uh, Miss Piggott, Pamela.

If this evening is to be a salute to them,
then please don't louse it up. Hm?

- Of course not.
- Salute.

- Salute.
- Salute.

To Mother and Father.

Wherever they may be.

Uh, scusi.

I think the captain is signalling.

- Table 12.
- Oh, yes, thank you.

Welcome. I welcome you.
The orchestra welcomes you.

- That was their favourite tune.
- Oh, how very thoughtful.

~ Per dirti ancor nei baci miei ~

~ Che cosa sei per me ~

No, no, no, no, no. No.

- Madam always sat on your father's left.
- Oh, of course. That was his good ear.

Now then.
Shall we start with a little pasta?

We have spaghetti, spaghettini,
spaghettoni, maccheroni,

cannelloni, rigatoni, tortellini, fettuccine,
tagliolini, bucatini, agnolotti, bombolotti,

cappellotti, crosetti, fiocchetti, trenette,
pappardelle, tagliatelle, vermi...

Uh, tell me. What would they have had?

A few gnocchi, a few ravioli,
and some green noodles, for colour.

- Perfect.
- As for the wine,

they would always have
a Biancolella 1961 with the pasta

and a Corvo di Salaparuta with the entrée.

Oh. Uh, any special entrée that they liked?

Indeed. I have taken the liberty
of ordering duck à I'orange for two.

Super.

Not for me. I brought my dinner.

In that case, I'll have the duck
à I'orange for two, for one.

Would madam like
a little cheese with that?

No, thank you.

Shall I take it out to the kitchen
and have it peeled?

- I'll manage.
- Very good.

I admire your willpower.

Mr Armbruster, do you know how much
I weigh? Nine and a half stone.

That's 133 pounds.
I'm determined to lose at least two stone.

Well, you came to the right place.
Michelangelo lost three stones here.

- Salute.
- Salute.

Bertram and I, we used to go
to an Italian restaurant in Soho

but it was nothing like this.

The waiters were all Greek
and the cook was Chinese.

Who's Bertram?

My boyfriend. We've been together now
for a year and a half.

What you would call "shacked up".

Would you like to see his picture?

- Sure.
- That's Bertram. The one in the middle.

- He plays lead guitar.
- Is that so?

They're a terrific group.
They call themselves The Four Apostles.

- Matthew, Mark, Luke and Bertram.
- And Bertram.

He's also a terrific composer. Right now
he's writing a rock musical called Splash.

Splash?

Yes. It's about the sinking of the Titanic.

You know, I must admit I feel rather guilty.

Why? You're not eating.

- I mean about Mother and Father.
- Really? Why? What about them?

Well, here we are at their table enjoying
ourselves while they're lying there...

Yeah, lying where?

On the other hand,
they would have hated tears and wailing.

They weren't exactly
a conventional couple, were they?

Maybe I'll just have one ravioli.

Uh, certainly.

You know what they would do at dawn?

- Go swimming in the bay.
- Yes, I heard.

In the bay and in the nude.

Then they'd lie on a rock,
basking in the sun like two baby seals.

Baby seals! Why, that grey-haired,
self-righteous son of a... bitch.

- You keep calling him that.
- Oh, look. I have nothing against sex.

Premarital, extramarital,
you name it, I'm for it.

I mean, just because a man's married, that
doesn't mean that he can't have a thing,

you know, with a secretary or...

Let's say you're at a convention
in Hawaii and meet some chick. OK.

You swing for a couple of nights
but then, aloha.

Oh, I see. You can swing
with ten chicks a year.

That's OK. But if you love one woman
for ten years you're a son of a bitch.

Love is for filing clerks,
but not for the head of a conglomerate.

- 37 companies, the man had...
- Can I have a couple of green noodles?

For colour?

~ Catari ~

~ Catari ~

~ Pecché mme dici sti parole amare? ~

~ Pecché mme parli o core, ~

~ Mme turmiente, Catari? ~

- Caterina.
- Hm?

It's Italian for my mother's name,
Catherine.

Figures.

Your father used to call her Kate,
and she called him Willie.

Willie?

- And Kate. Well, what do you know?
- I'm sorry you never met her.

- She was a bloody marvellous woman.
- I'm sure she was. Look, Miss Piggott...

I appreciate how you feel
about your mother.

If you wanna bury her in Ischia, why not.
But when it comes to Willie... my father...

Basically, it's a question of weather. In
England, people should be buried indoors.

How's the weather in Baltimore?

- Not very good, really.
- Well, there you are.

Here you have the sun 12 months a year.
There's no need to lie in a damp grave.

It gets so cold and... so lonely.

~ Catari ~

~ Catari ~

~ Pecché mme dici sti parole amare? ~

Buonasera. Da voi ci sta
un certo signor Armbruster?

- Si.
- Posso parlargli?

- No.
- È una cosa importante.

- Le ho detto di no.
- E io aspetto cca'.

Io sono il direttore. Che cosa
desidera dal signor Armbruster?

- Do you mind if we speak English?
- Why English?

I do not want anybody to hear this.

- It is confidential.
- Who are you?

Let us say I am from
the lost-and-found department.

From where?

Tell me. Mr Armbruster, is he perhaps,
by any chance, missing something?

Or should I say, two somethings,
from the morgue?

Eh?

Argh!

Look, I hate to break the spell, but
before you've lost yourself completely

could I ask you just
for one moment to be reasonable?

- I'll try.
- Now, just think.

Come Tuesday there will be 216,000
people watching that funeral in Baltimore.

What will it look like if there's no corpse?

- That would look bad.
- It would be a catastrophe.

- Hello?
- Mr Carlucci's trying to catch your eye.

Well... Look, you don't know
the people in Baltimore.

What was a beautiful romance they'll twist
into something ugly and sordid.

- Oh, we can't let that happen.
- I'm glad you can see things my way.

Huh?

- But why should there be no corpse?
- No reason, if you'll just cooperate.

- But what can I do?
- Oh...

Excuse me.

- What? I was getting somewhere.
- You're wasting your time.

- She didn't take the bodies.
- What?

I kept telling you. But there is a man
in the lobby. He knows where they are.

He assured me
they are in excellent condition.

He asks if you are interested
in getting them back.

- Who is he?
- He won't say.

He won't? He won't?

- Don't annoy him. The price will rise.
- What price?

- I don't know yet but I'm sure there is one.
- Ha. All right, you creep, where are they?

- It's going to be more expensive.
- If you'd care to come with me.

My car is outside.

This is where the accident happened.

We were all asleep in the house
when there was this terrible noise.

So we ran to bottom of vineyard,
and the car, it is smashed.

And the two, they are dead.

And she is holding him like this.

And the radio, it's playing "Hello, Dolly".

- I think that's very touching.
- Yeah, it sure is.

This way, please.

O vide, San Gennaro?
O vide, San Gennaro?

Tene la mmerda a' mmano.

Mr Armbruster, Signor Carlucci,
this is Alberto Trotta.

Arnoldo Trotta.

Alfredo Trotta.

Adolfo Trotta.

This is Papa Trotta and Uncle Trotta.

This is Grandpapa Trotta.

- And I am Armando Trotta.
- That's a lotta Trottas.

You bet your sweet patootie.

Arnoldo and I, we used to work
with American armed forces.

- Black market.
- What's your racket now?

- Body snatching?
- Mr Armbruster,

we sit down and write you nice
business letter asking for damages,

and Signor Carlucci, he calls
on telephone and tells me to screw.

I did not say "screw".

I said "sue".

Sue? You take bodies out of country.
We take case to court.

It takes many years, and in the end,
all the money, it goes to lawyers.

- So you just stole them?
- Stole? That is such an ugly word.

Let us say we are keeping them
temporarily in, uh, escrow?

- Where?
- They are very comfortable.

With candles all around, and a baby-sitter.

And you will get them back
as good as new for two million lire.

Two... They think I'm some sucker.

Two million lire for a piece of broken wall
and some crushed grapes?

That's nothing. But when there has been
death in vineyard, the wine turns sour.

- Who says so?
- Is old Italian proverb.

- I never heard of it.
- All right, all right.

Let us ask some old Italians.

Nne, sentite, quannde per caso succede
cha rint' a vigna more coccoruno...

Don't believe a word they say -
Neapolitans.

- Let me deal with them.
- Neapolitans?

That's bush league. I bargained
with the Teamsters Union. Watch.

Hey, you, big Trotta.

- Si.
- Si.

- There you are. They know the proverb.
- The hell with that. I'm a very busy man.

I don't want any haggling or dickering.
Here's my offer, fast, firm, non-negotiable.

A million lire.

Mr Armbruster, our family, it is big.
Our vineyard, it is small.

It cannot support us.

Three of our brothers,
they work in Carrara, digging for marble.

With all the dust in the lungs.

All right, a million and a half.

Two of our sisters
are prostitutes in Milano.

Other prostitutes,
they use Ferraris and Alfa Romeos.

But our sisters,
they have to work on bicycles.

OK, two million lire,
but not one cent more.

- I could not have handled it better myself.
- Thank you.

And now, we will have some wine and
some goat cheese, and play boccie. Yes?

All right, here you are.

- $3,500.
- That's two million lire. Isn't it?

- We can not take this from you.
- Why not?

You are such a good man.

So warm-hearted, so simpatico.

- We do not want this.
- What do you mean? Come on.

Oh, we want it, but not in dollars.

We take Swiss francs, we take
German marks, we take Japanese yens.

But with your economy sick
like a dog... no dollars.

To repeat - at noon
we meet behind the morgue.

You will bring German marks,
we will bring bodies.

We will also bring fresh flowers.
No charge.

Buonanotte.

Do you realise I've gone
40 hours without sleep?

- I'm gonna hit the sack.
- I envy you.

- When do you sleep?
- In the winter.

Mr Armbruster? Your crêpes suzettes.
I've kept them warm.

Morning, Miss Piggott.

I hope you're not angry with me.

- Angry with you?
- I ordered champagne for the gentlemen.

Why not? I'm sorry I suddenly
disappeared. It was a minor crisis.

- As long as you're not too late.
- I had to straighten something out.

- You know the curve where it happened?
- You don't have a shoehorn, do you?

- What?
- Oh. Never mind.

Oh.

I've been thinking about that funeral
in Baltimore. Where's it going to be?

- First Presbyterian Church. Why?
- Cos I want to send a wreath.

- A wreath?
- Mm.

- With ribbons and something printed on.
- Like what?

- I thought you might have suggestions.
- No.

- What, no suggestions?
- No wreath.

How about a simple "Ciao, Willie"?
Nobody would ever guess.

Miss Piggott, the family
has specifically requested...

Why don't you just give a contribution
to your favourite charity?

- Shall I serve the crêpes suzettes?
- Not now.

- If we don't hurry we'll miss it.
- Miss what?

The sunrise. I don't know
why I'm bothering with these.

- I'll have to take them off anyway.
- What with the sunrise?

You know. Over Vesuvius
and swimming out to the rock.

- You mean you and me?
- Wasn't that the whole idea?

Fat chance. I'm sorry.
I didn't mean it that way.

It's nothing personal, you understand.

- Could you help me with my zip, please?
- Certainly.

If you give me a minute I could
find us a couple of bathing suits.

Why bother?

I don't want you to think
that I'm stuffy or uptight.

I'm considered a pretty groovy cat.
You know, tuned in.

Like when I'm business in Los Angeles
I always have lunch at a topless... place.

Oh, my... Uh...

Just because I don't have the long
sideburns that doesn't mean that...

Did you ever hear of Oh! Calcutta!? I've
seen it twice, and Carnal Knowledge, too.

The permissive society, Age of Aquarius,
sexual revolution. I'm into all of that.

Take the secretaries in our office,
always wearing those hot pants.

There's nothing wrong with that, just as
long as they're worn by consenting adults.

Please keep in mind that it's Sunday
and this is a Catholic country,

and they may think it's in very poor taste.

Pamela!

Miss Piggott!

Miss Piggott! Can you hear me?

Pamela!

Miss Piggott!

Pamela!

Miss Piggott!

Can you? Oh, my God.

Miss Piggott.

- Are you all right?
- I'm fantastic.

Uh-huh. I'll give you one minute to catch
your breath, then we gotta swim back.

- Ah! What's the rush?
- No rush.

It's just a little cold in the water.

It's nice and warm here just lying
in the sun with your eyes closed.

Yeah?

- Are your eyes closed?
- Why?

Nothing. Just... asking.

Ah.

Well, here we are,
basking like two baby seals.

Wonder what they talked about,
Willie and Kate?

I'm sure they didn't talk at all.

They were just listening.

To the wind and the waves and
the beat, beat, beat of their foolish hearts.

Why not? When you're in love
you don't need words.

A look, a touch, a sigh, you've said it all.

That's not bad.
I should try that on my wife.

Every time I come home pooped
she wants to know why I don't talk to her.

Do you and, uh... uh... What's?
Uh, Bertram. Do you communicate much?

- We haven't talked for six months.
- Beautiful. You must really dig each other.

The fact is we haven't seen
each other for six months.

The bastard walked out on me.

Stole my telly, two Picasso posters
and my hair dryer.

There's an apostle for you.

He moved in with some skinny girl
in Kensington.

When I found out
I tried to commit suicide.

- No.
- Yes.

I took my week's salary,
bought a suitcaseful of fish and chips

and a dozen bottles of Guinness stout
and tried to eat myself to death.

- Took them hours to pump my stomach.
- Was it worth it, for a guy like that?

- It was stupid. But I've learned my lesson.
- Good.

No more fish and chips.

There is something to what it says
in the tourist guide.

What does it say?

It says Italy is not a country.

- It's an emotion.
- Well, it's certainly been an experience.

Uh... um...

Miss Piggott, I'm afraid
that we have some sightseers.

Please, Miss Piggott.
Where's your British reserve?

Veni acca'.

Here. Maybe you can use these.

Buongiorno.

Buongiorno.

That was quite the loveliest night
of my life. Thank you.

You're entirely welcome. See you around.

Appartamento 100-108. Presto!

Prima che sia troppo tardi.

- What's up?
- Emergency in the baron's suite.

- Hope it's not a heart attack.
- Wouldn't be surprised.

No, no, no. It's not the baron.
It's one of the nurses.

Good night, Willie.

Good night, Kate.

- Good morning, sir. Are you all right?
- What?

They told me you asked
for two bottles of aspirin.

Oh, that. I just needed the cotton.
Damn bells. Talk about noise pollution.

There are 68 churches in Ischia.
They all want the business.

- How's that nurse? All right?
- Yes, just a slipped disk.

The three of them,
they were playing frog leap.

- The word is leapfrog.
- I would rather not know.

- I come to give a report.
- How we doin'?

We are making progress.
I met with the Trotta brothers.

I gave them marks.
The bodies are back in the morgue.

- Good.
- The doctor examined them.

- I have the certificates.
- Coffins?

They arrived this morning,
all three of them.

- Three?
- The two from Bologna,

and that first one I ordered
from Amalfi. Remember?

- And there is no refund, no exchange.
- Big deal. Make a lamp out of it.

About my nephew. He got to Naples.
His friend let him into the licence bureau,

even though it's closed,
and he got the licence.

- Then we're all set.
- Mm...

yes and no, because this nephew,
he gets tickets for speeding all the time

and while he was in that empty building
he got to the file,

he removed ten of his traffic citations
and now he's in jail.

- The licence?
- They're holding it as evidence.

Not to worry. When the court opens in the
morning, I have a cousin who is a lawyer.

I will get to him straight away.
He is the worst lawyer in Naples.

But fortunately, he and the judge
have the same mistress.

Is that what you call Italian justice?

What about Sacco and Vanzetti?

Permesso?

- Permesso?
- Avanti.

When will you people learn
how to make decent coffee?

You know what I have for breakfast?
Hot Pepsi-Cola.

- What's that?
- Your shorts washed up on the beach.

What makes you think they're my shorts?

Maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe they belong to the young lady.

Just put 'em down, will ya?

About those photographs I mentioned.
Your father and his friend.

I have searched
and searched and searched.

- And?
- I found them.

Of all places,
they were inside my mattress.

- The complete set?
- Absolutely.

That's the beauty of Polaroid.
No negatives, and just one print.

What was it? I owe you a hundred bucks?

- No, please.
- You want Swiss francs or marks?

I told you. It's not a question of money.
I don't need money.

What I need is, uh... a visa.

- A visa?
- Yes.

I want to go back to America
and you can help me.

- How?
- You know all the big shots.

Senators, the State Department,
Dr Kissinger. You can pull strings.

- No. You've been deported as a criminal.
- A criminal?

I am not a criminal. I am a patriot.
You know why they deported me?

There were all these hippies
demonstrating in Washington Square,

calling our president filthy names
and burning the American flag.

On July 4.
With police all around doing nothing.

So I got pissed off!

And pulled my gun out of my holster.

And what do you think happened?

The cops arrested me.

It was a bum rap.

- Well, give me all the details and when I...
- Mr Armbruster, this can't wait.

You know that maid, Anna?
With the moustache?

- What about her?
- She wants me to marry her.

- Congratulations.
- God forbid.

If there is one thing worse
than a Sicilian woman,

it's a Sicilian woman who's pregnant.

- I must get out of here, fast.
- Uh-huh.

I sympathise with you, Bruno, and I'll do
all I can, but I can't make any promises.

I am counting on you, Mr Armbruster.

Because, you see,
I have other photographs.

Taken this morning.

Same rock, same sunrise.

Different bodies.

So you'd better try very hard.

Hey!

Wait a minute. Where are those pictures?

- Not in my mattress.
- You little crook.

- I'll beat the bejesus out of you.
- Buongiorno.

- Buongiorno.
- What a day. Do you believe it?

What about all those bells?
Smashing, aren't they?

- Smashing is right.
- If you need me, just ring.

- Is it all right if I go into your bathroom?
- By all means.

Oh! Don't let me interrupt. Finish your
breakfast. Isn't the coffee here fabulous?

What ha?

Did you burn yourself?

I weighed myself on my own scales but
I didn't believe it so I came here to check.

- I lost three pounds.
- Really?

After that enormous meal,
strawberries and cream this morning,

and bacon and eggs, and croissant
and butter. Wait till I see Dr Shaftesbury.

- They should defrock him or disbar him.
- Who's Dr Shaftesbury?

- My psychiatrist.
- Oh, him.

He said I was unhappy
because I was overweight.

Rubbish. I was overweight
because I was unhappy.

- See what I mean?
- Yes, I do. I think...

- How long will it take you to get ready?
- Why?

You know those carts
with the horses with the feathers?

I thought we could take a ride and stop for
an aperitivo or a late lunch somewhere.

- I'm starved again.
- I'd like to.

But there's so many things
I have to take care of here.

- It's our last day.
- Well, there's still tonight.

Same programme?
Dinner downstairs, sunrise and...

Uh, no. No, no.
No, last night, that was their thing.

I thought tonight we'd do
something different. Our thing.

Surprise me. Ciao.

Buongiorno. You can do my room now.

Scusi?

Può fare la mia stanza per favore?

Con piacere, signorina.

- Permesso?
- Avanti.

Hey!

Signorina!

Oi, ci sta 'a femmina nuda!

Signor direttore.
È successa una cosa terribile.

Bruno è stato trovato ucciso
nella stanza 126.

Tre colpi di rivoltella.
Povero Bruno. Una cosa spaventosa.

Cosa dobbiamo fare?

Otto! Otto!

Bisogna chiamare la polizia
immediatamente.

- Si, signore, immediatamente.
- No!

Prima di chiamare la polizia bisogna
fare le valigie della signorina Piggott

e spostarle al 121-122.

Si, si. L'appartamento
del signor Armbruster?

Mr Armbruster?

Ah, here you are.
You call this a first-class hotel?

- If it is about the bed...
- Who cares about that?

- It's about the valet, Bruno.
- You know about it?

I know he's a blackmailer.
I oughtta kill that fink.

- It has been taken care of.
- What has?

- The fink is dead.
- Dead?

Murdered. He's lying in room 126
with three bullets in his chest.

- Miss Piggott's room?
- She had no part. It was the maid, Anna.

- She killed him and then she ran away.
- Terrible.

It's a tragedy. If you lose a guest
you can always replace him,

but to lose a valet
and a maid mid-season...

Listen. Bruno took some photographs -
perfectly innocent, mind you.

- But if they fell into the wrong hands...
- Don't worry.

They fell into the right hands.

I'm sorry, I had to look for a second. But
I had to make sure who they belonged to.

Thanks.

There is just one thing that puzzled me.
The black socks.

Is it because you are in mourning?

Va bene, va bene. Portale dentro.

- What's this?
- Miss Piggott's things.

We are moving them in here
as a precaution.

- Precaution?
- The police will arrive.

We do not want her involved. They will
start asking all kinds of questions.

- Who knows what may come out?
- Carlucci, what would I do without you?

I have often wondered about that.

- 126, prego.
- I'm sorry, but you have been moved.

- Moved? Why?
- I just follow orders.

You are now in 121-122.

But I was perfectly happy...

- 121-122?
- Mr Armbruster's suite.

Oh.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience.

Don't be.

Permesso?

- Permesso?
- Avanti.

- It's me, Pamela.
- Oh, hi.

I'm in the tub. Make yourself at home.

I must say, Mr Armbruster,
you do have some cheek.

I do?

Aren't you taking rather a lot for granted?

Just what made you think I would have
the slightest interest in this arrangement?

- Uh, did you say something?
- Not that I expected subtlety from you.

After all, you're American, accustomed
to having everything your own way.

You see something you want
and you just grab it.

- Uh, come again?
- London Bridge, for instance.

You simply took it apart, stone by stone,
and shipped it off to the Wild West.

Or the Queen Mary, with all that tradition,
sitting there off the coast of California

reduced to a floating cafeteria.

- What the hell are you talking about?
- Ah, such conceit. Such arrogance.

You act as though you own the world.
Playing golf on the moon. Now, really.

Me? I play gold at the country club.
A 12 handicap.

Then you wonder why people don't like
you - because you're like spoiled children.

- No manners, no consideration.
- Uh...

You don't just pick up the phone
and say "Move that bird in here from 126."

If I'm to have an affair with someone
I'd like to know first,

and not hear about it from the concierge.

- Oh, my God, the bags. Uh, wait a minute.
- A girl likes to be asked.

- She should be given a chance to say no.
- Miss Piggott...

- She wants to be talked into it.
- We have a failure of communication.

Argh!

It's not that I'm women's lib or anything.
I don't mind being treated as a sex object.

But it's like any other game.
You have to play according to the rules

or it takes all the fun out of it.

Hang on a minute
before things get outta hand.

Hello? Hello?

Baltimore?
Yes, this is Mr Armbruster's suite.

Could you speak up a bit, please? I'm
sorry, Wendell can't come to the phone.

He's in the bathroom. Can I help you?

This is Miss Piggott.

Am I the what? The interpreter?

Whatever gave you that idea?

Hello? Hello?

Ohh!

Uh, Miss Piggott?

- This...
- You're dripping.

Uh, Miss Piggott, I...
Whatever you may think of Americans

I do not consider you a "bird"
or take you for granted.

- Thank you.
- About those, there was no time to ask.

You were out. Under the circumstances
it seemed practical.

- I understand.
- No, you don't.

Look. You were moved out of your room
for your own protection.

For ours. We have to be very careful.

- I said surprise me, and you certainly did.
- Mm.

You're taller than I thought.

- Pamela, what? The bed?
- Mm-hm.

- You noticed it's not been made?
- I'll do it later.

That's because of Anna, the maid.
She was pregnant by Bruno, the valet.

Oh, the things that go on on this floor.

Yeah. She wanted to get married
but he wanted to go back to America.

There was a problem. He'd been deported.
He wanted me to help, she found out...

Is this going to be a long story?

Anyway, the maid...
She's Sicilian, you know.

She got a gun and shot him, just like that.
Three bullets through the photographs.

That's why your bags...

- Permesso?
- Avanti.

All clear. The body has been removed,
the police have left the hotel,

so we can now take Miss Piggott's
luggage back to her room.

- I'll take care of that.
- Yes. Yes, Mr Armbruster.

As I was trying to tell you, the murder.
She shot him in your room.

We had to move you out of there fast
before the police got there.

Then... this was not exactly
an... invitation?

Not really. As a matter of fact
it was Carlucci's idea.

How stupid.

No, it wasn't. The police,
once they start asking questions...

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It's just one of those things.
It's nobody's fault.

Fortunately, I'm only half unpacked.

Well, these things happen. That's...

I remember once I was invited
to a New Year's Eve party in New York.

Three, East 72nd St. I had a ball.

Next morning I found out
I was at the wrong party.

It was three, West 72nd St.

Don't you think that's funny?

Uh...

It's...

Yes?

Oh, uh... Put it through. Baltimore.

They called you before.

Hello? Hello, Emily. How are ya?

Huh?

What, is somethin' wrong?
What? What was that?

Wait a minute. Miss Piggott?
I told you before. She's the interpreter.

Who says she isn't? She did?

Well, I can explain that. Uh...

She's English. And we're in Italy.

She can't get a labour permit.
Naturally, she's not gonna admit...

What do you mean,
she's in my room all the time?

I don't mind you gettin' jealous,
but isn't this ridiculous?

I mean, that you think
that I, at a time like this...

What music?

OK, all right, Emily. Have it your way.

I've got a gypsy band up here.
Incense is burning, the booze is flowing,

Miss Piggott and I are playing
frog leap, bare-arsed.

Is that any better? Huh?

Mrs Armbruster? Just to put your mind
at rest, you needn't be worried,

because if you saw me, I'm short,
I'm fat, and I'm not very attractive. OK?

All right, Emily. You satisfied now? Hm?

Let's just forget the whole incident.
Yes, I should be outta here by tomorrow.

Everything's all wrapped up. One small
snag in Naples - the export licence.

Blodgett? JoJo Blodgett?

Yes, I know he's with
the State Department. A friggin' bore.

He's stationed in Paris? What?
There is no reason to contact...

All right, Emily,
if the worst comes to worst.

Yeah, I'll tell her. Kiss-kiss.

Uh...

- Mrs Armbruster said to apologise to you.
- No need.

- I thought you overdid it.
- Just telling the truth.

Come on. Stop putting yourself down. I'm
sure many men find you very attractive.

Oh, yes. No-good bastard Bertram
and some sex-starved sardine fishermen,

and the local coroner who took me for a
scooter ride and then pinched my behind.

Well, if it's of any interest to you,
you know who finds you attractive? Me.

- I find you attractive.
- Don't bother. I'll survive.

This isn't the first time
I've made a fool of myself.

- Excuse me.
- Would you consider it impertinent

if I asked you to step on the scales?

- Yes, I would.
- Please.

- Well, I really don't care any more.
- It's not the weight.

It's the height.

Permesso?

Why don't you just make
a contribution to charity?

Permesso?

Avanti.

- Are you guys sure this is Ischia?
- Reasonably sure, sir.

Because I don't wanna land in Africa.

That would be bigger, sir.

- Maybe it's one of those Greek islands.
- No, sir. Greece is way to the left.

Not as long as I'm with
the State Department.

No!

No, no, no!

Go away! Go away!

- What the hell is the name of this place?
- Ischia. But you cannot land.

- What do you mean, we can't land?
- It is lunch time. Come back later.

My good man, do you know
to whom you're talking?

- I do not talk to anybody. Lunch time.
- Let me make one thing perfectly clear.

I am Joseph J Blodgett, United States
Government State Department,

and I am here on an emergency mission
concerning an American citizen.

OK, boys. Stand by. Better clear some
seats out so we have room for the coffin.

- Got you.
- All right. Oh.

Tell me, how far is this hotel?

The Grand Hotel Excelsior,
five kilometres.

OK, OK.

- What do we do about transportation?
- No transportation.

Lunch time.

What the hell is going on in this country?

This wouldn't have happened
in the old days.

You remember... Mussolini?

Ah, Christ.

- What's wrong?
- I was thinking about going home.

- I hate the whole idea.
- Thank you.

After the funeral there's a directors'
meeting, probably a proxy fight.

I'll have to go to Washington cos they're
investigating the Armbruster Foundation.

And there's that strike at
our electronics plant in Wisconsin and...

We'll probably have to recall
250,000 square feet of artificial turf

because they said there's too much lead
in the green paint. Argh!

Goddamn Ralph Nader. Who asked him?

Guess we all have our problems.

I have to pick up my cat
from the vet's in Bayswater.

I hope the garage will have
my Mini Morris fixed now.

And I really should repaint my kitchen.

- Can I have your croissant?
- Of course.

You can have anything you want.

Miss Piggott, about your flat. Won't you
need a new television and hair dryer?

All that stuff that your apostle ran off with?

Don't bother. I dry my hair in the oven
and I really don't watch the telly.

It's always the same. Northern Ireland and
Princess Anne and the Common Market.

Pamela, uh, my father and your mother.

Now, during all those years
didn't he ever give her, uh, any...

Well, I mean, he must have helped her out
from time to time. Financially.

You want to know whether
my mother was a kept woman?

Well, after all, a man likes
to show his gratitude.

- Maybe an occasional present.
- Oh, yes.

Every Christmas he'd send her a dozen
long-stemmed roses to the Savoy hotel.

- Oh, your mother was well-to-do.
- No!

She was making £15 a week in tips.

On £15 a week
she was living at the Savoy?

She wasn't living there.
She was working there. As a manicurist.

Did my father know that?

- She didn't want him to know.
- Why not?

I told you the first day.
She loved him. She didn't want any tips.

II telefono.

That'll be Carlucci.

I have good news. The
arrangements, they have all been made.

I guess it's checking-out time.

- Yes.
- Did Miss Piggott enjoy her kippers?

No, no, no. That's not why I called.
I called to tell you that Anna, the maid,

she has been arrested by the police,
in a rowboat, trying to escape to Sicily.

And the bodies, they are in the coffins
and all ready for shipment.

There was something else. Oh, yes. The
judge in Naples has had a slight stroke.

Wait. What judge?
I don't know any judge in Naples.

Oh, yes, you do. The one with the same
mistress as my cousin, the lawyer,

who was going to get my nephew out
of jail. When she helped him too hard,

the judge, he always had
high blood pressure.

What are you tryin' to tell me?

We have no export licence? Is that it?

More or less. Now they will have
to appoint a new judge

and that may take a day or two.

We sure are runnin' in bad luck.

Look, it's not your fault. It's the way
it goes. "La forza del destino", huh?

Don't worry about it, Carlucci.
I still like you.

- Problems?
- We may be stuck here for a few days.

- That's terrible.
- Yeah.

- What about the funeral?
- Oh, boy.

All those people,
the closed-circuit TV, the glee club...

I'll just have to call Baltimore. If it has
to be postponed, it has to be postponed.

- I'm so sorry.
- What can I do?

- You've done everything you could.
- Yeah. How about you? Your plans?

Well, we're not that busy in the shop.

I'm sure Mother won't mind. She's in no
hurry to get back to the rain and the cold.

I guess Dad wouldn't mind either.

They deserve another couple of days
together, don't you think?

- Thank you, thank you.
- My pleasure.

Si, signora, I'aliscafo per Capri
parte alle otto e trenta.

Grazie. A sua disposizione.

Armbruster. Wendell Armbruster Jr.
What room's he in?

Just a moment. Your name, please?

Here, I'll talk to him. Wendell, boy?

JoJo Blodgett, State Department.

How are you, kid? Emily called me last
night, told me about your little problem.

Oh, dammit. I told her not to bother you.

Sorry. I realise you got more
important things to do in Paris.

Sure do, that's why I grabbed
the first plane to Rome.

Borrowed a helicopter from the Navy.

You're in Ischia?
Uh, where? At the airport?

Better than that, kiddo.
I'm right here in the lobby.

You're in the lobby? Well, gee, that's
great. That's what I really call service.

Now, JoJo, why don't you just check in
and wash up and we'll have a drink later.

What drink? What later?
I got to get back to Paris tonight.

I'm taking Julie and David Eisenhower
to dinner at Maxim's.

So we gotta get crackin'. We haven't
a minute to lose. Be right with you.

- What's that room number?
- 121-122.

121-122.

Entschuldigen Sie, gnädige Frau.
Excusez-moi, madame.

Idiota.

121-122.

121-122.

- What are we going to do with this?
- What are we gonna do with you?

121-122.

Mr Blodgett, I am Carlo Carlucci,
director of the hotel.

- Such a pleasure to have you here.
- Thank you.

We once had another famous American
diplomat staying here, Benjamin Franklin.

Franklin? Oh, yes, Ben Franklin.
Good man, for his time.

Today I'm not sure
he could pass the security check.

Would you like to see his room?

Not now.

Excuse me. I would like your advice
about something, from the horse's mouth.

Do you think there will be a war
in the Middle East?

We don't give out that kind of information.

You see, I have been offered a job with
a chain of American hotels, the Sheraton.

There are a couple of openings
and one is in Damascus.

Damascus.

Don't quote me, but with the Russian
presence escalating in the Mediterranean,

the Arabs' military posture stiffening and
Israeli first-strike capability at its peak,

whole place is a powder keg. It could
blow up at any second. My advice?

- Forget Damascus.
- Thank you.

- In that case I'd better take the other job.
- What's that?

The Sheraton in New York.

Take the one in Damascus.

- One more question.
- No more questions.

- Wendell?
- Mr Blodgett...

Come in, come in.

Well, JoJo Blodgett if I ever saw him.

Hi, there, Wendell.

- How are ya, huh? Been a long time.
- I haven't been to the States since '67.

That's it. Halloween of '67. Party at
the country club. You came as Batman.

Yeah. I'm sorry about
what happened to your father.

- Well...
- Um...

Look, Wendell,
it's two o'clock in the afternoon.

At 11 tomorrow morning
you have a funeral 4,000 miles away

and you're sitting here
getting a manicure?

Buongiorno, signore.

This is Miss, uh... Tromboncino.
She works in the barbershop.

Signora. Signorina?

Could you possibly speed it up a little?

Scusi?

She doesn't speak any English.

I get that all over the world. I don't object
to foreigners speaking a foreign language.

I just wish they'd all speak
the same foreign language.

- Odd.
- What's odd?

Wendell, if I didn't know
how strait-laced you were,

and if I didn't know
that you were in mourning,

- and if that dame were 20lbs lighter...
- Urgh!

- I would suspect...
- What?

Mr Blodgett, please.

That dame, she is my niece. She was
brought up by the Carmelite sisters.

- I was only kidding.
- It is forgotten.

- How many more fingers to go?
- Relax, JoJo, will you?

Relax, nothing. You're screwing up my
timetable. I got a helicopter standing by...

- Can I use your can?
- What for?

- To wash my hands.
- What's the helicopter for?

To pick up the old boy.
We're going to fly him to Rome

then I'm gonna put you
on the night plane to Baltimore.

- Tonight?
- Sure.

This is Italy. Nothing's simple.
We're still hassling over the licence.

- Emily told me about that.
- We can't get out before Wednesday.

I was about to tell 'em to postpone.

Postpone, nothing. Batman is here.
We don't need an export licence.

- We're going to bypass all that bull.
- Bypass? How can you?

No sweat. We're appointing your father
commercial attaché to the embassy.

That entitles him to the rights
and immunities of a diplomat.

- Wait. You are going to appoint him...
- Why not?

- A dead man?
- Just proves that we don't discriminate

for reasons of race, creed,
colour or... state of health.

You mean we handle him
just like a diplomatic pouch?

You bet. He goes right
through customs, sealed coffin,

no inspection, no formalities at either end.

- That's kinda cute.
- That's nothing.

Someday I'll tell you
how we got Batista out of Cuba.

Now then. First on the agenda...

- First, you wanted to go to the can.
- Can. That's right.

Um...

I'm sorry, Mr Armbruster.

Mother would never forgive me. Look
at the wretched job I did on your nails.

Carlucci. Tell me something.
Bruno's body - what did they do with it?

- It is in the morgue, unclaimed. No family.
- Interesting.

- How?
- We may have a use for that third coffin.

- That is very generous of you.
- Your family plot - does that offer stand?

You're suggesting we bury Bruno there?
The Carluccis would turn in their graves.

- I wasn't thinking of Bruno.
- No?

You were thinking of somebody else?

Maybe... two somebody elses?

- My ancestors, they will be honoured.
- Well, we're not there yet.

- We'll need some transportation.
- No sweat.

I will call the Trotta brothers.

Hey. You've got a plate
of scrambled eggs in the bathtub.

- I do?
- And half a herring.

Now you understand
why I want that job with Sheraton.

OK, kid. Here is the game plan.

Get dressed and packed.
Next we collect your father.

Sure thing.
As soon as they open the morgue.

I'll want some officials at that airport.

- I want the mayor and what have you.
- Of course. Right after lunch.

- That will be four o'clock.
- Four?

- That's when they open the mortuary.
- Oh. That goddamn lunch time again.

We pour in millions of dollars
of foreign aid,

just so they can sit on their butts and...

Eech!

What the hell is there to do
around here for two hours?

- Tell him about the mud baths.
- Mud baths?

World famous for rheumatism, arthritis,

neuritis, phlebitis, urinary complaints,
hyperacidity... male potency.

Is that so? Well...

Come to think of it, I have a slight acid
condition. Maybe I'll give it a whirl.

- By all means.
- It is downstairs. I will show you.

Be right back.

- Say, where do we meet?
- Let me put it all together.

We'll meet at the airport.

Righto.

That mud business. Does it really help?

I assure you. After one bath
you will have the acidity of a man of 20.

Hmm.

Thank you.

It was your idea.

- What's the name of that orchestra here?
- Sergio... something. Why?

We might as well go all the way. I'm sure
he'd enjoy it more than that glee club.

The son of a bitch.

The marble. Do you want it white or pink?

Pink.

Very good. And the inscription?

I guess... "Willie and Kate".

"Willie and Kate." That is all?

We don't want any weeping angels
or hearts intertwined, do we?

How about "Willie and Kate... Carlucci"?

I'd go for that.

You make me very happy.

And there will be tromboncini
every Sunday.

After all, we are now one big family.

Hold it, boys.
My father goes on the other side.

Very important. It was his good ear.

Posalo.

Damn.

What the hell took you so long?

Signore, in Italy when a coffin passes by
people cross themselves.

- They kneel down sometimes in the road.
- All right, all right.

Over here, boys. Let's get this thing down.

Poor Bruno. If he knew
what was happening to him...

What do you mean, poor Bruno? This is
what he wanted - to go back to America.

Come on, come on, boys. Snap it up,
will you? Come on, it's getting late.

Now then, will the witnesses
please step forward?

Raise your right hand and repeat after me.

I, Wendell Armbruster Sr,
do solemnly swear

that I will uphold and defend
the Constitution of the United States

against all enemies, foreign and domestic,

and that I will perform the duties
of my office to the best of my ability,

so help me, God.

Congratulations, sir.

And salute.

Hup-to!

Thank you, gentlemen. That concludes
the ceremonies. All right, load her up.

You'll need this.
It's your father's diplomatic passport.

- You don't miss a trick.
- The CIA ran it off for me last night.

- The CIA?
- Never heard of them. Let's go.

Well, goodbye, Pamela Piggott.

Have a good flight. Don't work too hard.

And suppose I do? The worst that can
happen is I'll wind up with a bad back.

The suite. It will be ready.
July 15 to August 15.

Hey, Wendell! Andiamo!

If we should run into each other again,
in the lobby or the souvenir shop,

I promise you I'll be so thin.

Miss Piggott, you lose one pound, just
one pound, and it's all over between us.

Arrivederci, Carlo.

Visiontext Subtitles: Abigail Smith