La profezia dell'armadillo (2018) - full transcript

I've always liked that logo.

Did you make it?
Didn't think so, it's too good.

They must've hired a pro.

Will they call us when it's time?

- They said 10 minutes.
- I hate interviews.

- I hate the waiting.
- I like it.

I feel like a show dog
hoping to win the rosette.

Enough with the metaphors.
Work ethic is outdated.

How much is 10 tons?

- Even 12.
- How much is that?

Something like 10 cars
piled on each other.



- Heavier than a T. Rex?
- What?

That's a totally different era.

- Which is heavier?
- The mammoth.

T. Rex weighs 5-6 tons at most.

- So there's a mammoth in there?
- Just the tusks and bones.

Everyone knows you made up
the mammoth story to get girls.

Can we see it?
Looks closed.

It is closed but it's there.

And who the hell
is this dude with the yo-yo?

Time to go.

And enough with the underprivileged
who have to rob to get funds.

Nobody move and nobody will get hurt!

Let's see how long
till you finish the sketches.

It's already been 40 minutes,
like an episode of "The Walking Dead".



90 minutes... we could be watching
the season finale by now.

A Fiat takes 135 minutes
to reach Florence,

a waiter serves 60 tables.

A surgeon performs
a kidney transplant in 136 minutes.

The Zapatistas
occupy a Mexican city.

A roe deer gives birth to two fawns.

A Terrence Malick film
lasts 137 minutes

and shows a pear
falling from a branch.

138 minutes have gone by
and you've done jack shit.

Wrong you are
because I finished, hear me?

Finished.

Short story,

important metaphor,

five panels,

Indian ink outline,

background...

and I finished.

Got that?

Finishing something useless
is like not having done anything.

Don't break my balls
at this time of night.

And who says it's useless?

It's my job... maybe.

Job?
What job!

The Yoda robe auction ends
in 20 minutes.

It's 9:00 in Taiwan.

Screw the robe.
I'm busy, get lost.

Stay sharp, you're bidding
against 100,000 gooks.

Come on, the euro is strong now!

What's this email?

I got an email from Camille...

That Camille?

A friend from France,
we haven't spoken in ages.

A "friend"...

She sent me a blank email?

Odd.

Oh God!

Hope she doesn't come to Rome!

Hooray, the Demon of Hospitality
will reappear!

- God no.
- "Let's go downtown tonight."

"You have nothing but snacks to eat?"

"Can I use your charger? A nightshirt?
Can I get a set of keys?"

- I'm feeling sick.
- "I brought a sleeping bag anyway."

Knock it off.

I'll buy time with an ambiguous answer.

Good, ditch this moocher.

I'd better play it cool,
this is important.

"Hey dumbass,

you sent me an empty email?"

- Too harsh?
- No. Polite equals willing. Don't risk it.

Go to eBay,
5 minutes left to get that robe!

Good old Europe
against the power of the East!

Enough with this robe,
I have to work on the poster.

Feeling guilty? What poster?
For the punk show?

- Low in militancy rankings?
- Piss off.

I have work in 3 hours,
she might show up and want to stay...

If I have to talk, it'll be
with someone who's not in my head.

Another email from Camille.

Listen, if she comes,
I'll curl into a ball till she leaves.

"Dear Zero,
hope this email reaches you.

I'm Camille's father..."

Mom?

- Who is it?
- Who do you think?

What's wrong, honey?
What time is it?

Mom...

Camille died.

THE ARMADILLO PROPHECY

Two passengers haven't confirmed...

You're a real idiot.
Your face is going to melt off.

It burns 'cause it's made to burn,

that's why it's called pepper spray.

That's not normal.

Last Saturday I was nice and relaxed,

at noon I sprayed it in my face...

3 minutes of agony,
which is expectable,

and then I was interacting,
I was able to socialize.

I'm developing a tolerance.

I know it bugs you to admit it,
but I'm developing a tolerance.

Sit right. I can't stand your French
way of sitting.

There's no view to see.

Whatever, if it makes you happy.

I'm feeling better.

My eyes are tearing but that's normal.

My nose is stiff but that's normal,
I was up till dawn.

Till dawn with who?

Me, two French, two Brits,
a Bangladeshi, and two Russians.

You should see these Russians,
they still call it Texas hold 'em.

They both won, I was third, 120 euros.

Russians are hard core.

You think they're gonna fold,
but they're hard core.

They have an inner balance
that you can't detect.

- They've got a gift...
- Slim, why is your face purple?

An updated list of the bands.

- I'm betting the poster's not done.
- Almost...

That's the definitive list,
no more changes.

I don't know how to draw on walls.

We're not talking about
the Sistine Chapel!

- It's for the G8 anniversary.
- I know.

So you'll come?

Good.

Gina's grown.

What's that mean?
She's 5 years older than us.

So? She can still grow.

Whatever.

- You called yesterday?
- Yes.

Why?

- Remember our sacred oath?
- No.

- About the videogame?
- No.

- The public pool?
- No.

- Then what?
- The one with Camille and Greta.

Camille and Greta?
Oh, Camille and Greta!

- Camille and Greta...
- Yes.

Why?

Camille died.

Hello, Mrs. Panatta.

- Not again...
- What's wrong?

Hello.

Calm down, don't exert yourself.

- You skate.
- What?

You skate.
Skate, skate, skate.

All day and night...
You skate on my head.

- Quit fucking skating.
- Stay out of it.

- Let's all calm down.
- Young fags.

Emilio, enough.
These youngsters are dangerous.

- Take his skates away.
- I'll burn them.

I don't have skates!

Come on, enough.

Now he's pissing me off.
I'll head-butt you!

- Fuck you!
- Old folks are dangerous.

"I swear that we'll never be

like our parents were with us.

Even with seventh generation videogames

we'll kick their asses."

Me and you were at the merry-go-round
on the highway.

- It stank of fish, remember?
- Damn, it still does.

Even worse.

And "I swear I'll never take
life's comforts for granted

and won't give into common sense.

Even in 113 degree heat,

I'll only wear flip flops
at home or in public showers".

It's not this one... Camille
and Greta were always barefoot.

Right...

- This one's useless.
- Which?

- It's irrelevant.
- Read it.

- It's irrelevant!
- I'll decide if it's irrelevant.

"I swear to always confront
the law of survival of the fittest,

to reach goals through hard work,

and with a blatantly superior
sense of awareness.

Never hit on girls who are drunk
or out of it."

- You did that one alone.
- What?

- You did that one alone.
- We did it together.

- I know where we were.
- At your shrink's.

- No, at your shrink's.
- My shrink is dead.

Wonder why he died...
you drove him to his death.

Wonder if Greta
remembers our sacred oath.

Doubt it.

- Phone.
- Wonder what she's up to...

- Phone.
- Get it.

Hell no, they'll think we're a couple.

It's right near you.

Mom?

I'm practically on the subway.

- Ticket! Ticket!
- Shut up.

- Next train is in 2 minutes.
- Stop it.

I'm on my way, bye.

Get lost!

I can't go on like this.

You're always late, like your dad...

What awful news about Camille.
Poor thing...

Her poor parents, did you write them?

No, I need to figure out
what to write.

Only a parent could understand.

- Had you seen her recently?
- No, not in a while.

- Was she still in Toulouse?
- Dunno, I think so.

I just can't imagine...

- Why's your laptop over there?
- Huh?

Why's your laptop open on the table?

Just eat.

Did the graphic design studio
call you?

No.

Do you have voicemail on your phone?

Maybe they left you a message
but you didn't get the notice.

- The notification.
- You know what I meant.

- Did the airport job pay you?
- In 10 days.

- The kid?
- A whopping 60 euros.

- He's still struggling in school?
- Luckily for me, yes.

Tell me what's wrong with your laptop.

- Want a cutlet?
- No.

I don't have all day, tell me.

- You're sure?
- Yes.

- It'll only take one minute.
- One minute.

Tell me what a browser is
or I'm leaving.

- You're so severe!
- Severe?

You chewed grandma out
'cause she couldn't use a remote.

Bringing up grandma
just like... your father.

- I knew it, it's true.
- Sure, great.

Tell me what a browser is,
or no bookmarks till Christmas.

- Go to start.
- You mean type "start"?

Type?
There's a mouse, just click!

You know what, just leave!
I'll call a tech.

- I left school 30 years ago!
- I can tell.

If I do things for you, you'll never
learn and will keep calling me.

Self-determination is the key
to human development.

- So ideological.
- Thank God I'm ideological.

Want humanitarian aid?
Fine.

Poor thing... I did it for you.

What did you do?
Start... and then what?

- Search.
- Search... for what?

- I can't take it!
- What are you doing?

- I'll kill the plant.
- Don't! That's mean!

- There's a space to write in.
- Let go.

Go on.

Where do I have to write "search"?

Okay, fine...

- Don't!
- I'll burn your plants.

Get on the keyboard.

I'll do it myself, all right?

Oh God, everything disappeared.

- Start is gone, everything's gone.
- "Everything's gone"...

It's all gone dark.

Tell me the truth...

am I adopted?

It'll be the best party!

Shut him up
or the cops will bust us.

Couldn't we do something more normal?

Rent a club for a party,
an after-dinner thing...

The four of us in a private club?

Why do you have to leave?

I'm 15, I have to go back to Toulouse
with my mom and dad.

- So there's a mammoth in there?
- Just the tusks and bones.

- Here, in Rebibbia?
- Here, in Rebibbia.

I'll do math with mom after...

because it's a heartless subject,

and you can't reach me with math.

- It's theoretical stuff.
- Technical.

Yeah, that's what I meant.

Let's review French.

Ice, can't talk now,
I'm with my tutor.

- Sorry, I'll turn it off.
- No prob.

Why did you call your friend "Ice"?

I forgot to tell you...

I did my homework,
I watched "Crime Novel".

- I told you to watch it?
- No, but it's worth watching.

- Haven't you watched it?
- I have.

It's a masterpiece.

"Break the mold, screw the system,
take over the city..."

Break what mold?
Gimme a break, Blanka.

You said "Crazy About Love"
assuages the conscience.

I've got too much shit to deal with,

I'm out of my turf uptown.

How do they break the mold?

The whole thing
revolves around the system:

power, greed,
abuse of power, money.

Sorry, I thought...

You should see "La Haine".

What's "La Haine"?

Excuse me?

Sounds like movies my dad likes
with gay AIDS-infected lawyers,

the guy who cries, Forrest Gump...

How dare you?
"La Haine"!

A movie that shaped
an entire generation of thugs!

The dogma for all kids
from the slums!

What do they teach you in school?

Time for some homework.

No, download "La Haine".

I'll do your homework.

Mom says that downloading is illegal.

Tell your mom that "illegal"
is a neutral word.

It has no connotation.

First you must distinguish
between what's right and wrong.

Whether what's right is legal or not
is a secondary matter,

which you consider
only when calculating risk.

- Who decides what's right or wrong?
- Who decides?

Follow your heart, Blanka!

Amanuenses used to write books by hand.

It took 10 years,
the richest guy in town would buy it.

Does that seem fair?

No.

Then printing was invented.

So they could print any book
and everyone could read it.

If you had money to buy it
and were literate.

Isn't this more fair?

- Yes.
- Why?

Because ideas should be spread.

What's legal or illegal
can change with legislation,

but what's right always remains right.

Okay.

Now download "La Haine"
while I do your French homework.

And tell your maid
to be less stingy with the cake.

5 to 15 centimeter stem,
white and smooth,

bulbous, round,
hard, and fibrous cap.

Membranous, faint ring
on the lower part of the stem.

White volva,
two or three hoop-like rings?

Here, check it.

I say this mushroom's edible.

You've invented a new form
of agriculture in your bathroom.

- Genius!
- Score!

- What'd you find? The tea?
- No, Greta.

- We'll see her tomorrow.
- You couldn't tell her on the phone?

Some things are better said in person,

to avoid wire taps
and misunderstandings.

Where'll we see her?

At a craft fair
where a Dutch hippy works.

- He says they were a couple.
- He who?

- Boar.
- What does he know?

He lived in a commune in Vetralla.

Boar?

To learn diaphragmatic breathing,
chicks love it.

Can you picture Boar, dressed in white
in a field of poppies meditating?

He ate poppies...

Why would Greta be there,
is she still with this hippy?

How the fuck would I know?
We'll go see.

What a beast.

- It's jumping on its head.
- It's all about wickedness.

- Jumping on its head.
- Wickedness.

The smaller they are
the more ferocious they are.

- They attack first.
- They don't always.

Name a big animal
that attacks smaller ones.

Elephants.

What about mice and elephants?

There are a lot of false publications
about mice...

Elephants get annoyed by mice
because they can't catch them.

Frustrated?

It's more like:

"I'd better go before I..."

- Why don't you ever come with me?
- You never tell me where to.

- There's a reason why.
- Just tell me.

I'd tell you but...
never mind, you're a drag.

I don't like surprises
or not knowing where I'm going.

- I'm not curious.
- You're a drag.

Whatever.

Why didn't you tell Camille
you liked her?

You should act like
a Jedi Knight in life. Always.

See ya, Jedi.

Hi, «mon pote.»

I decontaminated the space.

Now you can bring some happiness
into this room.

Good line, who'd you steal it from?

It all looks the same.

You call this tidying up?

I've never snored in my life,

but my adenoids have been flaring up.

Everyone who's stayed over
slept like a log.

What's new?

I miss you, «mon pote».

- Is it cold in Toulouse?
- I don't know.

How are the others?

They're fine, same as usual.

I miss you all.

I miss when we were all carefree.

- I've never been carefree, Camille.
- You have.

It's not true that it's all the same.

Everything's different now.

I can't seem
to get into carefree mode anymore.

You always have...

and always will.

Let's make a deal: we'll leave
paranoia and dark thoughts

outside of this room for tonight.

Sounds good.
You have to hear this awesome song.

Let me in, you're lost without me.

Piss off, she and I need to talk.

- You need me to guide you.
- Guide me? Get lost, go!

Get lost!

Have you been with Camille long?

I've been with him since...

I can't recall!

Not much of a talker, I see.

All the better.

Come on Zero, it's easy.
You can do it.

- You know I don't like dancing.
- Just move your shoulders.

You dance.

Just move your shoulders.

Fine, I'll move my shoulders
but I won't dance.

No, buy the good vodka.

She's coming too?

That's all,
thanks for participating in the survey.

- Can I get your deets?
- What's that?

Can I get your details:
name, surname, occupation...

so we can finish up?

- Panatta. Adriano Panatta.
- Adriano Panatta.

Panatta?

My neighbor's Panatta,
maybe you're related...

- He's nice.
- I'm glad.

Occupation?

Occupation?

Know what your problem is?

- No.
- You don't have fun.

Huh?

Do you have fun
filling out these surveys all day?

How many have you done today?

- How many more left?
- This is it, I'm going home.

Home?
All you care about is the result.

You only focus on getting results,
instead of playing.

- Playing what?
- The game, the buildup...

Instead of serving at 220 km/h,

try your hand at a slice
or a nice volley.

- Volley?
- Yes.

I don't know much about sports,
especially volleyball...

Try out a nice, melodious flat shot
for a change.

- Know what a flat shot sounds like?
- No...

You use hideous, senseless strokes,
with zero melody.

- None at all...
- You just don't get it.

- Nope.
- You should just leave.

- Should I?
- Go home.

- Melody, sound, music...
- Melody.

Get it?
You don't. Just leave.

- I get it.
- No, you don't. Leave.

Come on.

I didn't get everything
but I liked it.

I didn't get the cow.
Why does Vinz see a cow in the slums?

You don't need to get the cow,
it appears and just disappears.

- Okay, I get it.
- You don't need to get it.

- Then I don't get it.
- All right.

- What else wasn't clear?
- The thing about falling.

It's nice but dramatic.

If you fall, you fall,
and you get hurt.

- Is the end what matters?
- The landing.

Right, the landing.

- So?
- So planes land,

people plummet from 20-30 floors...

- 50 floors!
- Exactly.

Translate: "L'important c'est pas la chute,
c'est l'atterrisage".

What's important...

isn't important.

What's important is not the fall,
but the landing.

- It's a metaphor.
- I don't get it.

It's a metaphor

because it doesn't represent
a person trying to commit suicide,

it represents society,
our society.

Who pushed society off the edge?

Did it jump
or did someone push it?

Forget metaphors,
let's try reality.

We are all falling
but falling isn't important,

because so long as we are falling
we are alive, right?

You'd probably pass out
after 20 floors.

- But metaphorically we're alive.
- You said no more metaphors.

You're right, sorry.

If we are aware of our downfall

we can decide where and how to land.

You're going to high school next year,

time to realize it's up to you
where you want to land.

Good, but don't pronounce the S.

My dad points his finger like that too.

We don't die forever, it's impossible.

We sweat blood our whole lives
and then just vanish? No!

Know where we gather
this awareness from?

From things, from objects.

Things, if we don't throw them away,
remain.

Sleeves...

Live sleeves.

The sweater died, it was thrown away,
but the sleeves remain.

This is natural selection.

Because a sweater
without sleeves is useless,

but sleeves without a sweater are not!

Not!

My aunt's molar.

They were about to bury her
but I said "Wait!".

He's nuts.

Are we sure Greta dated him?

I'd bash his face in.

I just found out he's from Vetralla,
he's not Dutch.

- Boar is clueless.
- Fuck it...

- Boar's an idiot.
- I'm getting annoyed.

- I can't stand this bullshit.
- Let's go.

- Let's go get a drink then...
- Hold on.

See that?

- That sweater's mine.
- What do you mean?

I lent it to Greta when we went
to Mini Italy to do graffiti.

You lent it to Greta?
Then he's been with her.

You talk to him.

- Hey.
- Hello, brothers.

- Hi.
- Hello.

Hey, by any chance...
do you know Greta Salvini?

- From Rome.
- Greta...

Yes, she's in Rajasthan.

She died there 20 years ago.

- Then it's not Greta.
- Relax, all is well. Why?

- Why?
- Why?

Because she now lives on
in the body of a Tibetan goat.

- I'm glad.
- Me too.

Just one thing, that sweater...

that fake wool sweater
with the pattern is mine.

Catharsis! Reunion!
New life!

Great.
Can I have it back, please?

Let me embrace you.

Catharsis of things
happens so rarely.

- I'll go get it.
- Good.

- Here it is.
- Thanks.

34 euros.

- 34 for what?
- New life has a cost.

You and your Icelandic sweater,
together again.

It's not Icelandic, I stole it
from a department store downtown...

- I see, I see...
- He's haggling.

You have father figure issues,
it's evident.

It's evident that you should
shut the fuck up, how dare you!

Give me back my sweater.
Nadia, grab the Spanish whip!

Fuck you both!

- Don't piss me off!
- Run, the forest rangers!

- Help!
- I didn't touch you.

- They stole my sweater.
- Out of the way.

Forest rangers... up yours!

I swear to accept the end of things

and never nourish
the illusion of immortality.

I swear to live in the present,

and oppose the revival cult
and vintage lobbyists.

The metempsychosis of objects...

Fuck you!

Awesome, I'd forgotten
how sacred oaths came about.

I'm fine.

Grab my leg, please.

- Left one.
- Like this?

Higher.

Other one.

"Developing a tolerance", huh?

- Call for help, please.
- You're making great strides.

Call for help, please.

Hope nobody sees us.

You're nuts.

I'm shitting myself.

I'm shitting myself.

Lie on your stomach.

I just shit myself.

You've surpassed the critical threshold,
cleaning is futile now.

Burning's the only option.

It took me an hour to make,
I found instructions online.

The neighbors will complain,
my exhaust hood's not up to code.

Don't throw it away,
you can use it for ants.

I don't know, I'm not sure.

Giving the pig such a negative role
seems wrong.

If I were a pig I'd be pissed off if they
depicted me as a capitalist oppressor.

Listen, you drew three males,
three females, it's even.

One female's yelling at the pig.

To avoid the banal analogy:

conflict equals male
equals testosterone. But...

- It seems super conscious to me.
- Not to me.

Why does the pig
have to be the torturer?

That's what you do in comics,
you use animals.

That's how you convey
the oppressor's wickedness.

In Northern Europe
a band made a poster

depicting a cop as a cogwheel.

- A rotor.
- Yes, a rotor.

- What the fuck's a rotor?
- A rotary part of a machine.

So it's a metaphor,
it sparks the viewer's imagination,

and doesn't offend a poor animal
who's a victim like you.

You worry me.

At this rate, you'll end up
only eating salad.

Hello?

Who's this?

Sorry.

Yes...

The interview?

Via Skype? Now?

Sure.

FuckFBI.

We call our friend FBI because
he was stalking a chick.

- Zero, you're rather experienced.
- Well... yeah.

- You'd do more than broadcast...
- Sure.

You'd be handling model sheets
for rendering...

- Can you do that?
- Yes.

- All right, thanks. See you...
- Monday.

Monday.
Thanks, bye.

I don't know any of those terms.

You'll see...

they'll call my bluff and they'll pillory me.

The world's full of incompetents
who can't do their job.

Bravo, that's how you do it
in the working world.

Temporary work pride?
Fuck off!

I'm an abettor, a conniver.

First Republic style,
I'm proud of you.

No, I have work to do.

I don't want to talk on the buzzer,
come up, Slim.

I got news about Greta,
let's go see her.

- Another ex-psycho?
- When did we last go to a party?

- Forever.
- Exactly, let's go.

- Come on, get on.
- You first.

- Whose is this?
- Boar's.

Ocher, nice.
This is vintage.

Why that face?

I start next week
at the graphic design studio.

- You got a job?
- Maybe.

- What job?
- Why the backpack? Going to war?

- What job?
- Where is this place?

- Let's go.
- Where?

- You'll see.
- Tell me where.

- I told you already.
- No, you didn't.

- Yes, I told you before.
- No, you didn't.

- I said it's downtown.
- I didn't understand. Where?

- Downtown.
- Downtown?

- You're insane.
- I'll go alone.

- My phone's dead.
- So?

If anything happens, on my computer

there's an RTF and DOC with my will,
delete the RTF.

Then delete my pics on Facebook,
the password's FuckFBI.

Lash out at the first necro-tweet
so they think I'm still alive.

Dis them.

- Dis?
- Yes, "Your mom, your grandma..."

Go work.

- Can you drive that?
- Don't worry about me.

- Need help?
- Give me a hand.

It's heavy, push.

Where'd Boar get this?

- Where'd Boar get this?
- Dunno.

Boar's a mythomaniac,
nothing he does is normal.

This is no way to get around Rome!

- Smooth riding.
- Two hands...

In the air?

Relax.

Where'd you get this gold jacket?

It's not gold, it's iridescent.

- Dressed downtown-style.
- Shut up...

- Just have one.
- No thanks, not interested.

It's not tequila boom-boom,
it's good stuff.

- No...
- It's from Oaxaca.

- No, thanks.
- Try it.

I don't want it.

You're looking for Greta
with long dark hair?

- Bingo, know her?
- She's always had long hair?

Since I've known her.

- Dark eyes.
- Really dark.

- A frog tattoo.
- Exactly!

We found her!

Nope, don't know her.

- What?
- My cousin had a fling with her.

- Can we track down your cousin?
- You brought your own water?

Yes...

Bet that's MDMA!

No.

Is it special low-sodium water
for kidney stones?

- No.
- Then why'd you bring it?

It's who I am, I can explain...

- No, thanks.
- Fine.

What a drag!

How wild,
you're obsessed with zombies too!

I dug a ditch
around my aunt's country house

and filled it with sodium hydroxide

like Max Brooks says
in "The Zombie Survival Guide".

I plan on not being cremating

so if a meteorite falls and resuscitates
the dead, I'll come back too.

- So you're that kind of guy?
- What kind of guy?

I think you only become a zombie
through contagion.

Yes, but actually
in the movie you see...

The dead rising from their graves

is nothing but a Medieval concept
and a caricature I find offensive.

- No...
- I'm with Romero.

- But in "Night of the Living Dead"...
- Enough, you gave it your best shot.

Go have a drink.

There is talk of a meteorite...

- Zombies hate garlic, right?
- No, those are vampires.

- Vampires, zombies, same thing.
- No, it's not.

Vampires are rich and charming,
stars of the supernatural world.

Vampires?

Whereas zombies are the proletariat.

How old are you?

Isn't pussy better?

Water boom-boom!

I'll follow along anyway.
Hey, I'm Slim.

Water boom-boom!
They can't hear me anyway.

Heaviness has nothing to do
with extinction.

Your heaviness
will make you extinct!

- I'm already extinct.
- What causes extinction?

- They had small ears.
- How small?

The largest mammoth ear found
was only 30 cm.

Only?

An African elephant's
is 1.80 meters.

What good are 1.80 meter ears?

For shooing away flies,
flapping them before charging...

- You hear the enemy first...
- Flapping ears is cool.

So mammoths became extinct
because they couldn't shoo flies?

Like my grandma!

The real catch was the tusks.

They were curved to shovel snow
and eat the grass under it.

- Mammoths were vegans?
- Herbivores.

Herbivorous megafauna.

- Megafauna? How cool.
- Great band name.

Or a meteorite that hit the Earth,

but that applies to anything.

There has to be a way to sneak in.

A passage.

«Mon pote»,
how do you know all of this stuff?

It's our history,
our neighborhood's history.

Nobody's ever slept
in a mammoth's bed.

This is better
than a goodbye party in a club.

If you're born with small ears,
you're stuck with them.

And tusks can't be straightened out,

you're stuck with them.

- I found a way in!
- Cool, come on.

We can jump from here, it's safe.

- So you're leaving for good?
- Dunno.

Can't you stay here?
Let's find a way.

I'm not sure I want to.
I'm not really happy, buddy.

Neither am I.

Mon pote», I have somethin
important to tell you.

Goddamn you!

There's no more room on my watchband,

I wrote all the algebra formulas on it
and now I can't erase them.

Buy a new watch or watchband.

You know I'm broke right now.

If you hadn't bought the game

you'd have a new watchband
full of verb conjugations

and the afternoon off, so would I.

What if I ask my mom
for a smartphone?

- You suck.
- These controllers aren't working.

Steam-powered Pac-Man
is all you were good at.

Knock it off!

Using a smartphone is too deceitful,

a petit bourgeois reaction
against institutional impositions.

Plus they'll catch you,
so it's best you open your book.

You're right, I had it coming this time.

My dear Blanka,
life's all about sacrifices,

either you make them
or others will impose them on you.

Sacrificing means choosing,
don't you forget that.

If I'd sacrificed buying the game
I would've made a choice,

like Dragon Shiryu
in Knights of the Zodiac

when he blinds himself
to defeat Medusa.

That's a sacrifice, that's a choice.

Let's start with irregular verbs,
they're hardest so let's get cracking.

Fink bastard.

That's right, bastard fink.

- Hello?
- Come in.

- May I?
- I suck at using chopsticks.

Have a seat.

Sit down.

We'll miss you,
and I don't say this to everyone.

Every few months contracts expire,
don't blame me...

- It's fine by me, sir.
- Don't call me sir.

- And her...
- Yes?

Incompetent, superficial...

She has a permanent contract,
a cushy job,

she could even get a loan,
and she chats on her phone at work?

I don't get it...

I'd give people like you
a permanent contract.

The info you gave me
is more useful than what she does.

Hold on... As for Danieli...

- Look.
- That's her.

Thanks to you, awesome!

Sign here,

contract cessation
and the fruits of your work.

I gave you 38 euros extra
since you were such an asset.

Awesome!

But that girl is a real babe,
she could be Miss Italy.

Jot down her number,
she'll get over it...

That's how I met my wife.

- Come here, you perv!
- Freak!

No getting naked today, you perv!

Where are you going?
Come here!

Deep down you always knew,

knock it off with this nonsense
about good faith.

You knew very well what you were doing.

I didn't, I thought
I was helping to plan shifts better.

- I thought it was useful.
- Useful for getting people fired.

It's useful for workplace turnover.

You should've told me,
you made me do something despicable.

Me?

You were a spy,
one of the oldest professions around.

It looks good on a resume.

Judas was a spy
but not everybody hated him.

What on earth is she up to?

Some say Jesus asked him:

"Judas, betray me,
I need to squeeze home..."

What are you doing?

What?
I'm cleaning.

You have no cleaning skills.

I said I would do it.

A pristine sink in a filthy house
isn't of much help.

Cleaning is in the details.

Mom, so long as the Health Department
doesn't come here,

I don't give a shit about limescale
on the faucet. All right.

What are you doing?

- I'll do it, get to work.
- Fine.

What'll you show them on your first day
of work, cleaning theories?

I'll do that after, stop.
I have to go meet Slim.

- I'm almost done...
- Step away from the sponge.

Come on.

- Bear down on that sink.
- I'll bear down, sure.

- When are you going?
- Camille's dad wrote me...

saying there's a non-religious
mass there on Sunday.

What's a non-religious mass?
Mass is religious.

Dunno.

Dumbass...

I said wait there, I'm coming.

Stay put, I'm coming.

Your purse?

Come on, don't just stand there.

Buddy, what's up?
Where are you off to?

- A place I always go to.
- Where?

- The Japanese Cultural Institute.
- Right by my house.

- No way!
- I've never been.

Ticket inspector.

Hello...

trying to sneak off without paying?

- Ticket?
- I don't have one.

It's illegal to ride the tram
without a ticket.

One must distinguish
between what's right and wrong,

who cares if what's right
is legal or not.

ID please.

- Yours?
- Can't you just spare us the fine?

Come on, please.
She's French, she can't help it.

The revolution, the baguette,
stuff like that...

We're underage, if we don't pay it
they can't do anything.

Plus, I only have French citizenship,
good luck catching me.

Only a dumbass
follows laws without questioning them.

Buying a bus ticket is reactionary.

I'm not entirely sure what that means

but my dad uses it for shitty things.

It sounds like hostile word.

"Hostile word", I like that.

- Why are you going there?
- Where?

Buddy, what's with you?
The Japanese...

Cultural Institute.
Right, sorry.

Because I'm very intrigued
by their traditions,

their post-war guilt, odd time zone,
Godzilla, Tiger Mask...

Well, I'm going home,
I live right there.

See you at school.

- «Mon pote»!
- Goddamn you.

No, you see, in Rome...

"goddamn you" isn't just an insult.

It can also be a term of endearment,
depends on how you say it.

Goddamn you?

Fine... I want to come to
the Japanese Cultural Institute too.

Coming downtown twice in a row
is brutal.

It's out of control, for real.

- Where is this place?
- She said it's near here.

- She who?
- Greta.

- You talked to her?
- Boar's friend knows her.

Not Boar again!?
Now he has a friend downtown?

This time it's for real.
He gave me her number, I called.

It was Greta, she said:
"Let's meet to booze & schmooze".

- Really?
- Yes.

What was she thinking
making us come here?

She used those words?

- Yes, I swear.
- She said "booze & schmooze"?

- She did.
- Maybe ironically?

No.

- Quit mumbling.
- There are cameras all over.

Shit.

There's another one.
Walk normal though.

- Weird light.
- Walk normal.

- I am walking normal.
- Where is she?

- There are two more cameras.
- Weird light.

There's another and another...

Slim? Zero?

- No way!
- Who's she?

- How are you guys?
- Greta?

Hi! What's up?
It's been forever since I've seen you.

- 10 years.
- 10?

- Maybe more, since Genoa.
- Genoa, what a flashback.

Were you at
the Caetano Veloso concert too?

- No.
- Right.

- How are you? How's life?
- Mine's great, going great.

And you?

I don't know where to start...

No worries, I'll start,
I have oodles to tell you.

I got my MSF, 5,000 euros
a month, I live with a lawyer.

I don't go out much,
occasional drinks downtown.

I ran into your friend
who went to high school with us.

What's his name?
Boar?

- Yeah, Boar.
- All dressed in white, so odd.

- Are you married?
- No.

Okay.

- Forte Prenestino squat still exists?
- Hell yeah.

Nice.

I'm with friends, how rude,
let me introduce you.

- Let's go.
- Don't leave me.

Guys, this is Slim and Zero,
we're childhood friends.

We have to head back to Rebibbia.

- Is that near Portonaccio?
- Pietralata.

No, Rebibbia is Rebibbia.
Pietralata is closer.

- Portonaccio is even closer.
- You're from there?

Yes, I was raised there,
my dad's from Garbatella.

Garbatella... low-income housing.

Who's from Garbatella?

- My dad.
- I don't believe it.

- Don't believe it...
- Damn, how lucky.

- Is your father well?
- How so?

Is he alive? He's extant?
Where does he live?

In Rebibbia, he moved there
three years ago.

Fucking hell, we will never manage.

- Never.
- I'm dying for a place in Garbatella.

With all due respect,

these bastards pass around
those houses amongst themselves.

Yeah, like trading cards.

Because it's public housing.

Public housing, some excuse.

It's not an excuse.

- Poverty's an excuse.
- It's public housing.

It's not an excuse at all.

But I have three sick cousins
in Pigneto.

- Where?
- In Pigneto, and they're sick.

- Sick?
- Yes.

- Where's Pigneto?
- Mandrione area.

- In the Roman hills?
- Where Pasolini was killed?

Greta, can I talk to you?

- What?
- Can I talk to you a second?

- Are they sick?
- Excuse me?

Are your cousins sick?

Listen, I wanted...

I wanted to tell you something
about Camille.

I already know.

Her father wrote to me.

I was so shattered.

She and I lost touch
but she was a real sweetheart.

Are you doing something for her?

Yes, but we don't know what yet,
not sure...

We can all chip in
for a flower arrangement?

Flower arrangement?

- Yes, like a sympathy wreath.
- A wreath?

All right, Greta,
we have to get going.

All right.

Let's not wait 10 years
to meet up again!

Be in touch.

- Let's go, Slim.
- Okay.

Houses in Tor Pignattara have
high ceilings, you don't need AC.

- Let's keep in touch.
- No fan needed.

- Leave me your number.
- Greta has it.

Don't give up, guys.

Bye!

I have to change my number.

- Does she remember the sacred oath?
- I didn't ask.

- What?
- No.

Dunno if she'll come to Toulouse
and I don't care, she's changed.

I don't remember her being like that.

- How do we get home?
- Dunno, but get me out of here.

Can you come with me first?

- I'm aching inside, my heart hurts.
- Wait.

- Be patient.
- Wait for what?

You really are something...

You come here every night
and watch them clean?

- Every other night.
- Every other night?

Look, isn't she gorgeous?

Look at how she's waving that hose,
so smoothly,

she always sprays the bottles.

- She raised her arm.
- So?

She never does that,
she senses me.

She pulls the hose and pirouettes!

I'll do it too and she'll reply,
just watch.

She's going to turn around, watch.

There she goes, she's spinning.

I'll spin clockwise too.

- What's she saying?
- Lots, we're saying lots.

I'm answering her.

I'm like a griffin.

She took off her glove,
she's not cold.

- She's not cold?
- No.

- Now she's smoking.
- What's that mean?

- I'm trying to decipher.
- She saw you.

She saw you, grab your water.

- Pour it down your throat.
- Really?

- How's my hair?
- Awesome.

Will I seem vulgar?

Him again.

- Don't do it then.
- Maybe I'll do this...

That guy.

- Raise it like a glass to her.
- Will she understand?

- Yes.
- Your hair's great, relax.

- Did she get it?
- She sure did.

He'll step away now.

Hey pal, can I tell you something?

- Will you fuck off?
- He's talking to you.

You've been coming here
for two months!

You even brought a sidekick tonight,
you perv!

Sidekick? Chill out.
Let's just go.

Get back to work, you orange jackass!

We are working,
we're doing it for you too, asshole!

She does all the work,
you do fuck-all!

Your work ethic is outdated,
has been for years!

- What'd you fucking say?
- That you do fuck-all, slacker!

We won't let them walk all over us!

Nobody walks all over us!

You burned my face.

Nutcases!

Fuck!

- Chill out.
- Slacker!

Run!

Son of a bitch!

- Throwing bricks?
- I'll bash you!

- Take this, shithead!
- Throwing bricks?

The forest rangers!

- Hurry!
- Shitheads!

He loved you, you ice queen!

Run home to mommy, idiot!

This is the Armadillo Prophecy.

It's called the Armadillo Prophecy...

every optimistic prediction based
on subjective and irrational elements

passed off as objective and logical

destined to fuel disappointment,
frustration, regret,

forever and ever, amen.

Could you be more specific?

A vade mecum to get screwed over.

Riccardo's told us a lot
about what you've taught him.

That's what school should do,

teach you what's right,
what sacrifices are.

He kept dreaming that
he was falling from high up

and would wake up screaming.

One, two, three nights in a row...

Giuliano and I were concerned,
and didn't know what to do.

Then, on the fourth night...

What?

He saw an angel with open wings.

An angel?

An angel that...

Oh God!

An angel that?

What did the angel do?

An angel that took his hand
and brought him down safely.

Riccardo got a calling from God,
he says he's back at home.

- What home?
- God's home.

He realized he has
a religious vocation.

Isn't he too young?

You're never too young
to receive God's light.

He's in silence in a monastery.
He'll finish school there.

- This is your severance pay.
- No...

No amount of money can repay
this great gift you've given us.

There's even a note
Riccardo wrote for you.

Through sacrifice I embrace the light.

What's right is always right.

A manly hug, warrior mentor.

Hail us.

Hail us... goddamn you.

I saved this.
Want half, buddy?

I'm from Toulouse,
my family's communist.

I have a feeling
there aren't many here.

- Thanks.
- What's your name, buddy?

- Zero.
- I'm Camille.

- Nice to meet you, but...
- Bored?

- No, I just got here.
- Already bored? Coolio!

- Coolio?
- I never get bored.

Not sure if it's true
or if I'm just always bored.

- Cool.
- I'm going to dance.

- You don't dance, do you?
- No, this music sucks.

Too bad, I love it, it's fun.

Later, have fun.

Hey, what are you doing here?

- Looking for the clippers.
- For what?

You want to shave your hair
even shorter?

I look shabby,
I can't go around like this.

I'll do it for you, if it's too short
your face looks droopy.

- You don't know how to use clippers.
- I sure do.

Hold on.

Stressed about Toulouse?

I'm glad Slim is going too,
you can comfort each other.

- Is he of comfort to you?
- Dunno.

Slim is different,
his emotions aren't like ours.

I feel funny
but not because of Toulouse.

Because of work?

If they picked you
it means they like your work.

It's not because of work,
I feel really anxious.

Why? Figure out what triggers
this anxiety or else...

Maybe it's the fact
that you're going to scalp me!

Oh please... it'll take a second.

- Careful.
- Don't move.

What?
What'd you do?

Nothing, I lowered the clippers.

- You made a bald spot!
- I didn't even touch you.

- Don't move or I'll mess up.
- You already did.

Don't move.

- You made a bald spot!
- Where do you see it?

- I don't, but I can feel it.
- Feel what? You're bald inside.

Like your father.

- Is it because of the kid?
- Blanka?

- Not again!
- If you'd just made him study...

Keeping him stupid so you didn't lose
your tutoring job was mean.

- Colonialists did that too.
- Please...

Colonizing Africa is one thing,
colonizing a rich kid is another.

Well, you lost that job
and subjugated that poor boy...

So it's my fault? Don't blame me,
blame the family legacy.

I have to feel bad about this too?

Go on, you'll be fine
once you start your new job.

- When are you leaving?
- Tomorrow.

It'll take forever
because there's no fast train there.

- Why, you'd take the fast train?
- Why not?

Aren't you anti-fast train?

I'm against it because they'll destroy
the valley and exploit it.

I have no beef with fast trains if they
travel fast on pre-existing rails.

Because you're superficial
and stop at the first instance.

Huh? Explain.
Go ahead.

Railways haven't always existed,
tons of places got destroyed for them.

Torricola, for example.

Torricola was a gorgeous oasis,
snipes mated there.

People came from America to see it.

Then they tore it up
to build the railway.

- 80 years ago.
- What's that mean?

The damage is done,
Torricola is what it is.

Nice counterargument!

Yeah right, in 1200
Fregene beach used to be nice.

The fact that you don't mind
fast trains is problematic.

Nothing is neutral in capitalism.

Take a slow train instead.

It makes every stop...

And it'll take 10 years!

- Rushing isn't neutral.
- But you take slow trains.

Why don't you go by chariot?
Take a chariot!

I work on the train.

And kill off snipes.

That's what I'm getting at,
let's use maieutics.

- Meaning?
- Slave!

What was that?

Slave.

- What the fuck does he want?
- How dare you!

- Calm down.
- I am calm.

- You're not.
- Take your hood off.

Chill, I'm not insulting you,
just stating your stance.

If I wanted to insult you
I'd call you a lackey.

- Then I'll call you an asshole.
- That's an insult.

Back off with that brush,
get it out of my face!

- How dare you!
- Use your own brush.

- Paste up your poster.
- He stuck his brush in my face!

He's messed up!

Hungry?
Want to split a sandwich with me?

Come on...

Tell me if you like someone.

But it has to be someone worthy.

- You're sure this is it?
- Yes.

Are we on time?

Dunno, hope so.

- Let's go back to Rome, forget it.
- Move it, we're late.

They don't know us.

That shitty sandwich from the train
made me feel sick.

I'll always remember the cousin
who taught me to roll cigarettes

and covered for me when I played hooky.

I'd tell you this when you were down
and you'd tease me.

But I could see the pride

in your eyes for the things
you'd taught me...

He said his cousin taught him
to roll cigarettes

and covered for him
when he played hooky.

- Then he said something about gays.
- He said "orgueil".

- Pride, in French.
- About gays...

- Be quiet, that's her dad.
- Then he said...

They say death
always teaches us something,

but it's hard to learn
when it happens like this.

When it takes away what you love most.

It is so hard for Françoise and I...

there's not even a God to question,
we've lost our faith

and it's no time to ask questions.

What remains doesn't matter to us

because nothing remains.

Nothing at all.

We're here to ask for help

with humility and dignity,

there's no shame in that.

Perhaps this is what we've learned,

but death didn't teach us this,
Camille did.

We wanted to thank you all.

It's nice to know that Camille
isn't only ours.

Two of her friends travelled
from abroad to be here today,

Slim and Zero,
her friends from school in Rome.

- He said Slim and Zero.
- He's thanking us.

- What's he saying?
- Nothing, let me listen!

- Nothing?
- Let me listen.

- I'm missing it all.
- Hush.

Where are you going?

Excuse me...

Excuse me.

I'm not good at speeches,

I'm shy.

I wanted to thank Camille because...

For me, for us, Camille was...

now that she's gone...

I want to thank Camille
because I never danced before

and I'd like you to listen to a song
she introduced me to.

Camille, goddamn you.

We're like Pavlov's dog.

Know Pavlov?
The guy with the dogs.

He'd ring a bell
when he fed the dogs.

The dogs would drool and run because

they were used to it,
a reflex,

automatic reaction.

We're like those dogs.

We know what to do
when they kill us.

We get angry, write on walls,
hold a rally, burn shit...

Automatic reaction.

What if Pavlov stopped ringing the bell?

If he played the bongos
what would the dogs do?

What the fuck would the dogs do
if he started playing the bongos?

Same holds true for us,
we're like the dogs.

But this is different.

There's no reflex here,
no automatic reaction...

So what do you do?

In this case...

when anorexia kills you, then what?

What do you burn?

Who do you take it out on?

What are you doing here?

People will see you, go home now.

Don't tell me what to do.

What?

- No point in staying home anymore.
- What?

What's this?
What's in here?

You know.

You start work soon,
all of your work is in here.

I was coming home to get it.
What's going on with you?

- You're planning my days?
- That's exactly the point.

I'm only doing it today.

- What the fuck are you saying?
- You don't want to work.

- And?
- I came to make you admit it.

Since you admitted it,
I'll move on to the list.

What list?

No more muffins,
you don't like muffins.

You eat them because that article said
they're serotonin inhibitors.

You'd be happy without muffins,
you don't want to be happy.

No more TV shows.
Seriality mythicizes time

but time does exist,
it's a bastard and it expires.

No more unconditional faith
in public transportation,

you're exploiting the company's
structure, its crisis.

Get yourself a scooter,
accept what your city is.

- You'd love to live downtown.
- No.

- You yearn for a place downtown.
- No, stop.

Please!

No more a priori refusal
of alcohol and soft drugs,

you lose control anyway
just like you will soon enough

when I tell you
what you don't want to hear,

what you've always known.

Camille liked Slim!

Enough now!

Say it again!

Camille liked Slim!

I was waiting for this,
I lived with a Buddhist for years.

- Finally!
- You're hitting yourself.

Still talking?
You fucking pop icon!

Nihilism is anachronistic, dummy!

Coherence is a drawstring
of weak thought!

Still talking?

Did I hurt you?

No, did I hurt you?

No.

Let's go.
Give me your paw.

Both.

My backpack. Hang on here.

Wait here.

Come on.

Watch the step.

No more moronic T-shirts,
second-hand attempts to seem young.

Not again!

No more track suits
and stretched-out socks...

Look who's talking!

You look like a stuffed animal
with coils.

Leave me be,
I belong to the past,

you need to focus on the future.

- Focus on the future.
- Anyway, I have a gift for you.

Your first-day-of-work outfit.

It looks great on you.

You're a whole new person,
you look like a model.

Come on, give me your paw.

One at a time, easy.

All right...

Does your carapace still hurt?

Good.

What's wrong?

Come on.

You go.

Let's go together.

- I'm not coming.
- You'll wait here all day?

No.

See you at home after.

See you at home after?

My little man...

Let's not make pathetic scenes.

Make sure

you sneak off, call in sick,

be the poster boy for absenteeism,

hate the company,
fight it from within,

don't be contaminated
by the urge to change the world.

Another world...

is not possible.

Making a sacred oath isn't so easy.

We've never even kept one.

Fuck you, a girl's sacred oath
is just as valid as yours, dickheads.

- Nobody said otherwise.
- Shut up. Go on, Camille.

I swear on the mammoth's bed...

- That's not how you start.
- Oh right.

Verb, objective,

then say an absolute,
metaphysical concept.

Here comes the man
teaching the woman!

- How sickening.
- Greta, shut up.

Okay.

I swear...

Small ears and curved tusks
had nothing to do with it.

It wasn't a meteorite
or climate change.

Humans made mammoths extinct.

We ate them all.

Worst of all, there was never
a mammoth in Rebibbia.

It's just an ancient elephant.

So what? That's cool anyway.
Why the sadness?

'Cuz there's an ancient elephant
uptown too,

and it's probably better maintained.

- I swear.
- I swear!

THE ARMADILLO PROPHECY

- I can't see!
- Run!

I can't, my eyes are burning!

It's pepper tear gas!

Plug your ears.

- Take that off your head.
- We lost the others.

- I have no service here.
- Greta tried to call.

- You have service?
- No.

This is fucking useless.

Fuck, they're here too!

- They're just forest rangers.
- They're cops too.

They're here for the fires,
environmental safeguarding.

Like Yogi Bear.

Excuse me, forest ranger,

we just want to get out of here.

- Which way?
- You can't get out of here.

You have to die here in Genoa!

Are you crazy?
Ouch!

Are they gone?

Are they gone?

How humiliating!

The forest rangers hit us.

- We can't tell anyone.
- No shit.

No shit!