Natale a 5 stelle (2018) - full transcript

This film is purely fictitious,
fruit of the writers' imagination.

Any reference, even indirect, to actual
people is not meant to be factual

but merely a portrayal
of purely fictitious facts and events.

A NETFLIX ORIGINAL FILM

5 STAR CHRISTMAS

DEDICATED TO CARLO VANZINA

MERRY CHRISTMAS

ROME

- Good morning, Mr. President.
- Good morning.

Good morning. Good morning.

- Pinna.
- Morning, Mr. President.



Good morning, everyone.

Good morning, good morning.
Good morning.

- Hello.
- Morning, Mr. President.

- Bianchini.
- Morning, Mr. President.

Mr. President, something to drink?
Whiskey, champagne?

Thanks, but I need to remain sober.

I wouldn't mind a sip of prosecco.

Prosecco, my foot.
We need to remain sober.

You're right. Never mind.

See that hostess? Polite, refined,
nice eyes. and a nice...

Sober, Mr. President.

A nice attitude, Bianchini!

How dare you make assumptions!

You're right.



Here's our 3-day schedule in Budapest.

This brick for 3-days?

Miss being the opposition party now?

I don't get it, with all the issues
we have in Italy,

why waste time on a bilateral meeting
in Budapest

on Christmas week?!

By the way, Bianchini,
you're in charge of gifts.

Buy things that are useful or classy.
Nothing tacky, please.

Does this whole herd have to come with us?

So much for the spending review!

Who are they?

The federations of Industry,
Enterprises, Artisans, and Farmers.

The opposition party's here, too,
why are they coming?

Mr. President, you have a rather
democratic idea of pluralism.

Senator Rossi, sorry,
I didn't know you were here.

Without those traitorous
northern separatists,

you'd barely have the Senate majority.

With all due respect,

the opposition party
represents millions of citizens,

or rather, the people!

Enough with the word "citizens",

the French Revolution is over!

In any case, Senator Rossi,
you shouldn't complain, you lost votes

because you campaigned for a leader
who's full of baloney. Shame on you!

Shame on you!
Promising basic income without the funds.

By the way, take a look
at this morning's polls... you'll see.

Bianchini...

- Are we dropping?
- Dropping? We're plummeting...

for now.

According to polls, we'll drop 7-8 points
in the next few weeks.

- We should give up.
- Keep your opinions to yourself.

You seem to be enjoying
our approval drop.

Never!
I'm with you, truly faithful.

So now you're faithful?

"Truly faithful," my foot.
You're a flip-flopper!

- You were a democrat.
- So were you.

No, I was not a democrat,
I was a progressive.

You jumped ship to be with the winners.

And remember this,

if this government flops,
you'll go back to your old life.

Remember?

A town clerk
in the boondocks of Guidonia.

Before becoming Prime Minister
you were nobody, too.

Hush! I got my start in politics in Rome
thanks to...

Never mind.

Listen, you won the online elections
with 124 votes.

124 votes! That's incredible!

Pure luck, don't you forget.

- Pure luck for us both.
- How so?

You went from bookkeeper
to Prime Minister.

- It's mom.
- Mom?

Mom!

You can't use your work phone
for private calls.

- But mom just broke her femur.
- Who cares!

The millions of citizens
who voted for us don't care either.

But she's old, ill, and needy...

Don't forget that lawfulness
is one of our pillars.

That's yours, President.

It's work!

Hello?

Sure, I can talk.
It's Luigi Di Maio.

Yes?

There are some issues
with Matteo Salvini?

Tension?

But how can I now? I'm heading
to Budapest, we're taking off now.

- Liar.
- No, don't worry,

I'll handle it.

I "gots" it covered!

I wasn't mocking you,
it was just a joke. Bye.

In 1873, the city of Buda
merged with the city of...

Pest!

To create Budapest

where about two million people now live.

Excuse me.

Work.
Matteo? I'm all ears, what is it?

I know, there's tension
with Luigi Di Maio.

I'll call him.

No, don't worry, I'll placate him.

This government's a nuthouse.

Is it that hard to open a door?

- Welcome, Mr. President.
- Thank you.

I'm Alberto Fracassi-Torre Rossano.

Torre Rossano's in the Marches?

It's his last name.
He's our ambassador.

Nice to meet you.
I've heard great things about you.

- I'm honored.
- So tan!

Just came from the mountains.

As representative of the Hungarian
government, here's Ferenc Szabo,

- Foreign Affairs Undersecretary.
- Undersecretary?

Why didn't the minister come?

Mr. President,
it's the week of Christmas.

To be honest,

due to shared ideas,
they would've preferred Salvini.

Let's go.

Chop...

- Dear President, welcome in Hungary.
- Unlike Matteo Renzi, I understand.

Thanks, Undersecretary.

Didn't you go to Harvard?

That's what your resume said.

The boondocks.
I'll ship you back to the boondocks!

- Franco Rispoli.
- No, no. He's the gardener.

Who?
The gardener.

The gardener's still a citizen.

The ancient Magyar school of gardening
is esteemed.

- How long will this take?
- Thirty minutes.

I'm dying to go
take a shower at the hotel.

Me, too.

We're in different hotels,
I'm in Buda and you're in Pest.

- Is there a difference?
- The Danube separates us.

You and doors don't get along, Pinna!

Look how nice!

Is that him?

It is!

Can I take a selfie with you?

Of course, you'll get heaps of likes
when you post it.

- Rocco, can I take a selfie with you?
- Sure.

- Me in the middle!
- Women in the middle!

Thanks, Rocco.

- Thanks, bye.
- Bye.

- He touched my butt!
- Rocco? Awesome!

- Who's that?
- Rocco Siffredi.

- Right.
- Rocco Siffredi...

He married a Hungarian
and lives in Budapest now.

That Rocco Siffredi sure keeps
the Italian flag flying high.

Indeed, very high and upright!

He's a huge asset for Italy,
a very huge asset. Enormous!

Mr. President,
I'm the hotel manager.

Your prestigious presence is an honor
for our historic Grand Hotel.

The honor is all mine.

Other noteworthy guests we've had:
Emperor Franz Joseph,

Kaiser Wilhelm, Prince of Wales,

President Macron with his wife Brigitte,

and more recently,
Paolo Gentiloni from Italy.

He's at 19 percent now... Anyway,
I hope you've given me the best room.

Yes, the Imperial Suite.

Macron and Brigitte's?

Indeed. Top floor
with a view of the Danube.

The great Italians Pupo
and Toto Cutugno also stayed there.

Like Rocco Siffredi,
they keep the Italian flag flying high.

Rocco Siffredi keeps it higher!

Okay, Rocco is Rocco.

As for security,

if you need anything
just speak to Brigadier...

Pinna?

Brigadier Pinna, my bodyguard, all right?

No worries, sir.

For you we'll create
an impassable wall of security.

Thanks, we may be
in a coalition together,

but I'm no separatist, no wall needed.

No Budapest wall in the hotel...

Just don't post a guard
outside of my door, please.

Maybe just discreet security
at the elevators.

You have a private elevator.

Good, I'm opposed to favoritism.

I'm a regular citizen, too...

- As you wish.
- Thanks.

Pinna, you know
who's allowed up or not.

I'm in your hands.

Mr. President,
I'll show you to your suite.

I mean, Mr. Super President!

I love being Prime Minister!

Mom?

Walter, what's going on?

Do phones not work in Hungary?

I've been calling you for three hours.
I was losing my mind!

Because I'm working.

I'm the Prime Minister's secretary,
I've got a lot on my mind.

If you want to chat, call Aunt Lole.

No way, she's such a whiner!

"My head's spinning,
my blood pressure's spiking..."

So what's up?

Nothing...

It's just that I'm nearing 80,

I'm in a wheelchair
because I slipped and broke my femur.

I'm stuck with an African tribeswoman
who can barely speak Italian.

But apart from that, I'm fine.

Just focus on your President.

Shame on you.
You were born a Communist!

You went from Togliatti to Fico!

And now you're with Salvini, shameful!

Mom, how's the weather in Guidonia?

Why me?

Honey...

you can't imagine how incredible
this Imperial Suite is!

Wonderful.

The one they gave Macron.

Seems only fair, right?

I'm really sorry you couldn't come.

But my schedule is so packed,
three days of encounters.

We wouldn't have had
a minute alone, believe me.

How are things at home?

Good.

Listen, honey...

I have to run, I'm meeting the head of the
Italian Cultural Institute.

Right now. Gotta run.

Bye, we'll talk later. Bye-bye.

Done!

Senator, you can come in.

- Senator...
- President?

Still dressed?

You sure know how to lie...

- And what did you tell your husband?
- I cooked up some lies, too.

How amazing, three days alone
here in Budapest

without guards, paparazzi,
snooping reporters.

Without wives!

And without your husband!
All alone.

An amazing pre-Christmas
5-star weekend.

Franco, are you sure
we're doing the right thing?

The Prime Minister
with a Democratic Senator...

If Italians found out, we'd be doomed.

Nobody at all will find out.

We're in Hungary,
they don't care about Italians.

There are no gossip reporters.

Oh, God, go get undressed now!

- Are you okay?
- Yes!

- Need help?
- No, thanks.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

Coming.

Ta-da!

Oh, Lord!

Wow, you're a knockout!

Thanks.

Mr. President.

Nonsense, thank you!

- My love, thank you.
- Franco,

you do know
what we're doing is disgraceful.

I feel so uptight and nervous...

I'm not used to these things.
This is my first time!

- Mine too!
- Liar.

My first time with you.

But we're so different,
politically, age-wise...

I don't know why I'm doing this.

You'd be my first Prime Minister!

No, do not say "Prime Minister"!
Don't!

Every time I hear that word,
I burst into flames inside.

My husband's frigid, a block of ice.

Why'd you marry
a northern separatist councilman

who's not even from the north,
but from Civitavecchia!

Giulia, enough now! Enough!

Take off...

your glasses.

Right away, sir.

- Can you see?
- Yes, I have perfect vision.

The Party made me wear them

so I look less hot and more brainy.

Not a bad idea... No, no.

Put them back on.

I like you more with glasses. Come here.

Let's go into the Imperial Suite!

They sure gave you a great place.

We opposition party members
are in a tourist hotel.

I am the Prime Minister, after all.

- With a mere six vote Senate majority.
- Yes.

But... Je suis le President.

I ordered oysters and champagne
to celebrate our first encounter.

Aren't oysters and champagne
against your coalition's "world view"?

Politically, yes,

but this isn't a political encounter.

This is a romantic encounter.

Romantic.

Honey!

My husband didn't even order
oysters and champagne for our honeymoon.

- Civitavecchia only has shrimps.
- We went to the spas in Montecatini.

The interpreter told me
there are amazing spas here, too.

Afterwards... we'll go.

Budapest must be mind-blowing,
from up here.

- Mind-blowing...
- Really lovely.

- Want to see?
- Yes.

Not there.

Over here, the view's better here.

I can't believe
they put up scaffolding to do work,

even if I'm in this suite now,
they could see me...

And see me!

- Idiots.
- Oh, my God!

A killer view,
though it's not Montecatini, but...

Franco, I'm feeling ill.

Vertigo?

Terrifying!

We're on the fifth floor,

but trust me, just keep looking up,

never look... Oh, God!

- Who's that?
- Know him?

Santa Claus? No.

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Hold on. Hold on.

I don't know him.

- No heartbeat.
- Is he dead?

Obviously.

- Is he warm?
- Yes, he's still warm.

- How creepy.
- He's dead.

- Poor thing!
- Poor thing, my foot.

It's a thief dressed as Santa Claus
who was trying to break in.

- You think?
- Obviously.

He tried to get in,
but it seems the window

came down like a guillotine
and slam!

Must be defective.

- No kidding?!
- Let's call the police.

The police?
No way!

What'll we say?

They'll see Democratic Senator Rossi
with the President.

There's only one elevator,
so if you leave they'll see you!

- But he's dead, Franco!
- You think the police will resurrect him?

We can't ignore it.

If not the police,
call the manager, then.

Then he'll call the police.

I'm only saying this out of concern
for you, believe me.

You're not concerned about me.

You're concerned about your wife,
the media, the polls, and your career.

No... Yes.

I can already picture the headlines:

"Democratic Senator and President
have orgy with corpse"!

Forget about Bunga Bunga!

We have to tell someone.

Yes, I must tell someone.

I must tell someone...

- I'll tell Walter!
- Veltroni?

Not Veltroni, Bianchini!

Who's that? Your secretary?
What can he do?

Bianchini does whatever I tell him to.

Hungarian salami, good stuff!

Good day!

Seventy euros.

- Not enough.
- Not enough. How not enough?

How much does this darn salami cost?

I'll take a selfie for mom,
she loves markets.

I'll send it and make her happy.

Like this.

That's Berta!

Berta?

Berta?

Mr. Walter,
what are you doing in Budapest?

I'm here for work
with an Italian delegation.

Great to see you,
you moved back to Budapest?

Yes, after your mom fired me
the recession started in Italy.

I figured it was better to be broke
at home.

- Right.
- So I came back here.

- I bet that's mom.
- No doubt. I'll mute it.

- I remember how obsessive she was.
- Yes.

When I was her helper:
"Berta, I want some chamomile."

"Berta, I'm cold.
Berta, my cardigan."

Mr. Walter,
do you still live with your mom?

It's my destiny,
how can I go live on my own?

She has a Cameroonian helper now,
but she has a snowball's chance in hell.

- She's relentless.
- Like a pit bull. She won't let go.

Why don't you come to dinner
at my mom's tonight?

- Another mother in Budapest?
- No, don't worry.

My mom's democratic, you know.

She's heard lots about you,
I'd love for you to come.

- At 7:00?
- I have a work dinner...

but maybe I can get out of it.

Perfect.

My address and number.
We'll make a special goulash for you.

I'll call you, save my number.

- Okay, later.
- See you.

My salami!

Six missed calls. Not from mom!

Mr. President!

Okay. Bianchini will be here soon.

Not exactly the seventh cavalry!

Who's that?

- Who's there?
- Room service for suite 648.

Not now.

Oysters, caviar, champagne.

Not now... come back later!

Room service.

Oh God. Go hide,
this guy won't go away.

- Go.
- This is so wrong.

Coming!

Close that!

Hello, Mr. President. Finally.

A little bump.
It's all under control.

- Are you Italian?
- From Naples.

From Naples.

I said bye to Italy
and those politicians.

- Which politicians?
- Not you, the others.

Because you all... You all...

- We?
- Never mind.

No, do tell.

Thanks to the brain drain,
I came here.

Good thing this isn't hot
or it'd be cold by now.

Where shall I leave it?

Right there.

Hold on...

Hello? Yes? Mr. Manager.

A man on the scaffolding?
What? No such thing!

There's no problem at all.

Maybe it's another suite, not ours.
Where are you going?

Where are you going?

Yes, everything is fine, thanks.

Thanks again, thanks.

- Maybe we should check.
- Everything is fine.

As you wish, sir.
Will you sign, please?

- Why?
- Oysters and champagne.

- Isn't it all included?
- I do as my manager says.

Hold this for a second.

Did Macron pay for his own incidentals?

No.

I'll talk to the manager, thanks.

- You're welcome.
- Thanks.

Things were different when I delivered
food to Pupo and Toto Cutugno...

Right.

What's right is right.

- When shall I come get the cart?
- I'll call for you.

- I'll be waiting, Mr. President.
- Okay.

What are you doing, Franco?

What do you think?
Dancing with the Stars?

Give me a hand,
we'll put him in the closet.

Oh, God!

See how it happened?
The window fell and... slam!

A corpse must not be moved
from where it died.

The corpse couldn't care less.

You're doing something awful.

We're doing... Come on!

- This is what they do in films.
- But this isn't a film.

- Really?
- Really!

Okay, pull him up.

Wait. Wait...

I have an idea, hold him.

Lift him up. Lift him up.

- How?
- Like this. This is perfect.

You can go, it's done. Come on.

There.

Now get dressed and go to your hotel.

- Where's my dress?
- I was holding it...

Oh, God!

I gave it to the waiter,
he took it with him.

- I can't believe it.
- Damn it!

- Who is it?
- The manager, open up!

Hide in there.

Coming!

This isn't just wrong,
it's a real fuck-up!

Coming!

- Sorry, this is rather serious.
- I bet.

The guest next door

saw a man kneeling down
and peeking through your window.

Must be a liar.

He's no liar.

He's Hungary's skeet shooting champion.

He's eagle-eyed.

He saw a man motionless,
peeking inside.

- A peeping Tom?
- Or a thief.

He must've climbed the scaffolding.

It encircles the whole suite.
We should check the bedroom.

I just came from the bedroom,
no need to check.

I must. I'm responsible
for your safety in this hotel.

No, Brigadier Pinna is responsible
for my safety.

I assume you spoke to him.

- I couldn't find him.
- What?

Fine, if you must check...

The manager must check the bedroom,
fair enough.

I suppose you'll check
the scaffolding, too, now?

- Absolutely.
- Go ahead.

- May I?
- Sure.

Oh, God.

The dress...

- I'm here...
- Bianchini, hush.

Listen, I'm going to say something
I will never repeat again.

Something awful happened in this suite,
the body's in the closet.

- The body?
- Hush, let me finish.

You'll have to find it later, not now.

What do you mean, "body"?

When you find it, I'll be meeting
with the Hungarian president,

- and she'll be gone.
- She?

Yes, she!

- I don't understand, I'll...
- No, stay here.

When the manager comes in,

pretend that whatever I told you
didn't happen, okay?

- All the better.
- What's that?

- Salami for you.
- Salami?

- The Christmas gifts.
- Put them in the fridge.

- I paid 20 euros out of pocket.
- Now's not the time...

Listen up.

Make sure to agree with
everything I say, got it?

- As always.
- No, even more.

We have to...
Pretend like you're smart.

Never mind, nod.
Just nod.

Nod. Just nod.

You're right, sir,

I checked the scaffolding
and nobody's there.

I told you! I'd like you to meet
my secretary, Walter Bianchini.

Walter works for me 24 hours a day,
but he's in a hotel far away.

We're in Buda, he's in Pest.

Could you find him a small room
on this floor? I'd appreciate it greatly.

232...

650 should be fine.

Mr. President, I'll see what I can do
for Mr. Bianchini.

And I will alert security
regarding the intruder.

No need! As you saw, there's nobody here.

Also, it would be bad publicity
for the hotel, understand?

Indeed, you're right.

The less we talk about it,
the sooner it'll be forgotten.

Great. Bianchini,
you must treasure these words.

Excuse me.

- Did I nod well?
- Yes. Stellar performance.

Thanks.
Now will you explain what's going on?

What's going on is you'll spend
three days in a five-star hotel.

He's gone?

- Hello, Bianchini.
- Senator.

You do realize that
I'm putting myself in your hands.

I wish!

If word gets out,
I would be royally screwed.

- So would he.
- That's why we called you, Bianchini,

a truly faithful servant.

Can this truly faithful servant
have a word?

Certainly.

How could you?
With Senator Rossi of the opposition?!

- Just look at her.
- True.

But that's not the issue,
we need to find her dress now.

- Where is it?
- The waiter took it.

Of course, silly me.

- He knows about the corpse?
- Yes.

There is a corpse?
You lied to me.

No, I lied to the manager
about the thief,

but I told you about the body,
which is in the closet.

The thief's body?

- Did you kill him?
- No, the window did.

Slam... and he died!

- How did he get in there?
- I moved him.

You should never move a corpse.

I told him it was a serious crime.

You have no right to preach,
you rigged votes in Basilicata.

- In Molise.
- Molise, Basilicata... same thing.

A corpse is worse than vote rigging.

Fine, whatever,
are you truly faithful or not?

- Should I nod?
- Nod.

Go back into the room
while Bianchini and I find a solution.

- Hope so.
- Giulia? This is guy stuff.

- Quit staring!
- Did you call the police?

Why would I call you
if I'd called the police?

At times, you really are a dumbass.

You want my help
but deep down, you despise me.

- Then I'll go.
- No! Don't be hasty.

Listen,

if my wife finds out
I was in a hotel in Budapest

with Senator Rossi,
she'll rearrange my face, understand?

You can't understand
because you're not married.

If I were married, I'd be faithful.

Also, if I were Prime Minister
I wouldn't sleep with the opposition.

Luckily, you're not the Prime Minister.

The truth is...

I didn't do anything with her,
I wasn't able to...

But you must help me.
We must find a solution.

- We?
- No, you must find a solution.

- For what?
- Moving the corpse.

When the manager comes back
with your room key,

we'll move the corpse
into your room,

place it outside of the window,
close the curtains,

and then tonight,
you will "find" the body.

- I'm leaving.
- No!

Put yourself in Giulia's shoes.

If word gets out, she'll be expelled
from the Democratic party.

- And you'll have to resign.
- And you'll go back to the boondocks.

- The body's in the closet?
- On a hanger.

So it won't get wrinkled.

Bianchini!

- He fell!
- Oh my God, terrifying!

But his Santa Claus costume
is cheery.

- Right?
- It's less creepy.

We'll pull this off.

- Get inside!
- Fuck!

Mr. President.

I found a room for Mr. Bianchini
right next door.

Room 650.
Can I leave the key with you?

Wonderful.

Did Walter find a solution?

Have you met Mrs. Bianchini?

Son of a...

- Hello.
- Mrs. Bianchini?

I forgot to mention that Mrs. Bianchini
will stay with her husband.

Right, Mrs. Bianchini?

So I'll stay here instead of my hotel?

You're on your honeymoon, after all...

Why split you up?
You have to sleep together.

With someone like Mrs. Bianchini,
I'd never fall asleep.

You rascal!

With a bombshell like this,
nobody could fall asleep!

Thanks, sir, but I need my dress now.

You see, Mrs. Bianchini
was taking a shower before

and your waiter, the Neapolitan...

- Pasquale.
- Yes,

...accidentally took her dress.

I'll find him.

Goodbye.

- Mrs. Bianchini?
- I didn't know what to say!

The coast is clear.

Back off, Santa.

Mr. President,
I strongly object to all of this.

- I second that!
- Objection overruled.

Now go into room 650,
open the window,

and come back here via the scaffolding.

- I'm afraid of heights.
- Who cares!

I have to call my mom first,
she already called five times.

- Enough with your mom!
- She's my mom...

You can talk to your mom
after you find the body.

- Room service.
- I'm not getting it.

- Must be my dress.
- Wait!

Sweet Lord.
Is this the wrong room?

- No, it's right.
- Well done, President.

Now I know why you ordered
oysters and champagne!

You know nothing!

They got married this morning
so I ordered it to celebrate.

Congrats!

The Bianchinis, my friends who will now
be staying in room 650.

Now that you know everything,
you can go.

- More?
- For the bride's dress.

Why the rush to get it back?
Aren't you on your honeymoon?

At times, your bullshit is funny.

Thanks, President, at your service.
Call me as much as you want.

Let's move him to room 650.

Come on, Bianchini!

- Give me a hand.
- Oh, God!

- Excuse me?
- What?

- Your belt was in the hall.
- Thank you.

- Sweet Lord, who's that?
- Vincenzo. Bianchini's brother.

- Is he ill?
- No, just drunk.

He was the best man this morning,
and then boozed it up.

Who dresses like Santa Claus
for a wedding?

- Mind your fucking business.
- Just asking.

Ask yourself this...

if you want to safeguard
the Bianchinis' honor,

can you keep your mouth shut?

Mum's the word.

We're doomed.
A witness has seen the corpse.

Your brilliant plan is a flop.

How can I pretend the body in room 650
is my brother Vincenzo's?

Calm down!

We are faced with an emergency.
We need to think this through.

Quit saying "we", please.

- I'm voting for the Democrats, next time!
- Good.

Democrat or 5 Star supporter?

Partisan grandpa, unionist father,
Berlinguer was my hero.

Then I jumped on their bandwagon.

How depressing,
all those principles up in smoke.

How dare you talk about principles?

You were on Celebrity Survivor!

The Democrats only elected you
because you're hot.

I'm leaving.

You're going to leave
your brother-in-law's body here?

Brother-in-law, my foot.
I'm splitting.

If you go out that way, they'll see you.

- Mrs. Bianchini can do as she pleases.
- Right.

Mr. President, I'm going to split, too.

You will stay put
until we have a plan for this body.

Fine, what?

- Idea!
- Your ideas scare me.

I have an idea and it's brilliant
like all new ideas!

You will pick up this body
and toss it into the Danube.

But how?

- A wheelchair?
- Yes.

Yes. You must have one on the premises.

Of course, President.
The hotel has one for emergencies.

Like now.

All right.

It won't be easy.
I have to go fetch it from storage,

haul it upstairs...
It'll be a real hassle.

I'm sweating just thinking about it.

I understand,
but I'm out of cash now.

How about a credit card?

I'll bring up the card processor, sir.

Process my ass...

You're sure you didn't see her?

I think you're hiding something from me.

Now what?!

Everything's fine, Pinna, no worries.

Mr. Bianchini.

- Need help?
- No, thanks.

My staff informed me
that your brother is feeling ill.

- Is that him?
- Unfortunately.

Dressed as Santa Claus?

He looks unwell, almost dead.

Nonsense, he's just hungover.

Want me to find a room for him, too?

No, he's going on a long trip, now.
Right, Vincenzo?

Shall I call a doctor?

Want a doctor, Vincenzo?
He said no.

Some fresh air will do him good.
Which way is the Danube?

Keep going straight
and you'll walk into it.

Walk into it? Perfect.

Wait!

- Why'd you hide it?
- What?

That you got married this morning.

Yes, but I didn't think
it was important news.

I'll send a bottle of champagne
up to room 650.

No, thanks, no more alcohol!

As the president says,
I need to remain sober.

Italy has a solid relationship
with your lovely Hungary.

Italy has a solid relationship
with your lovely Hungary.

Giulia, what are you doing here?

- Roberto!
- Roberto who?

My husband is here!

The separatist?
Yes.

You said he was at
the northern separatist rally!

He's not.

- Open up.
- It's him.

I'll break this door down!

He will, he's hot-headed,
a real beast with fists.

Hide in there.

Quick, quick!

- Hello.
- I'm Roberto Di Leo.

Where's my wife, Giulia?

- What are you talking about?
- Drop the act, Mr. President.

What?

Happy now? See?

What makes you think
your wife would be here?

We are bitter enemies,
politically speaking.

Political enemies, secret lovers.

- What are you saying?
- The truth.

It all started
after the Cernobbio Summit,

with an anonymous letter:
"Your wife's hot for the President."

"The President"?

Everyone's a president in Italy,
even movie producers.

Quit joking!

I had you followed...
one-on-ones, hidden cafes,

- tea rooms!
- Tea rooms, I get it...

Okay, we have met up,
but only to try and find a way

to form an alliance
with the Democratic party.

You're a northern separatist
who acts like a jealous southerner.

- Giorgetti would ban you!
- Be quiet.

Your affair is in the public eye.

Gossip shows are after you,

they sent a reporter
to Budapest to tail you.

- "Budapest love nest"!
- Knock it off!

The reporter told me:

"Di Leo, you'll catch them in Budapest."

So I came here.

He climbed up a scaffolding
and called me:

"Hurry, I'm watching them
from the window..."

Then the call ended.

- Santa Claus!
- Who?

No, nothing...

- Well?
- Well, what?

Okay, I confess.

Your wife came to my suite.

Damn her!

- But not for me.
- For who?

Walter Bianchini,
my new personal assistant.

You think I'm a sucker?
My wife is sneaking around with you.

Fine, then I'll confess everything.

You know that my pillars
are based on principles.

I tried to get Walter Bianchini
out of your wife's head,

but to no avail.

Because he's a playboy
who's slept with half the Senate.

Heaps in Guidonia!

He's a sex-addicted rabbit.

Don't believe it?

Then go ask the front desk
about room 650,

it's reserved for Walter Bianchini
and your Giulia.

What's wrong?

It's all my fault.

Knock it off, be a man.

Let it all out, come on.

I've always neglected Giulia,

that's why
she's gone after Bianchini.

Because I'm not a hot-blooded man,

I'm not passionate.

You're cold, icy?

Yes, and I often strike out
between the sheets.

Shooting blanks?

I'd say this is rather serious.

You see, I love Guilia
so much that I can't...

We could work on this, no?

- You think?
- Try.

But that Bianchini guy...

I'll go kick down the door to room 650
and kill him!

Nobody's there, now,
they went out.

Where?

Dunno, a stroll along the Danube.

Well, they'll be back.
I'll stand there and wait.

Good idea, go.

Catch the rabbit and keep me posted.

- Who's this?
- The hotel's richest man.

- Goodbye.
- Eavesdropping?

- I was looking for...
- What?

I came to get the cart.

Fine, get rid of everything
and put that chair back, too.

All right.

- How did I do?
- Amazing.

- Thanks.
- Not you... Roberto!

Now I know he really loves me.

He's never opened up like that.

He was even brave enough
to admit his minor dysfunction.

Minor?

I'm glad nothing happened between us.

At least I won't feel guilty.

He thinks Bianchini's guilty.

Go back to your hotel now.

Actually, go this way.
Call Roberto when you get back there.

- And say what?
- Dunno.

You're in Matteo Renzi's party,
didn't he teach you to lie?

Look who's talking.

Darling, go...
before I vote you off the island.

I may have been on Celebrity Survivor,

but ever since I met
you "real" politicians,

I've considered going back
to being a hairdresser!

What a nasty bunch.
Willing to do anything:

change your minds,
jump ship, swap principles in a flash.

Poor Italy.

Great legs!

Eavesdropping again?

- No, I'm still looking for...
- What?

- My tip.
- Here's your tip.

- You've disappointed me.
- You've pissed me off.

Can't wait to see this cheapskate's
financial legislation!

Don't touch a thing.

- Hello?
- Walter?

This isn't Walter, who's this?

His mom, who are you?

Room service
at Budapest's Grand Hotel.

He's in a different hotel now?

Yes, thanks to President Rispoli

who offered him a room
for his honeymoon.

- Walter got married?
- Yes, this morning.

- You weren't at the wedding?
- Dear God.

Lovely guests, lovely party,
and such good food!

I'm going to faint!

Come on, ma'am...

I'm going to have a stroke!
Oh, God...

Hello?

Walter...

Hello?

Mom got cut off.

He didn't even invite his mom?
How shameful.

What can you do...

A mother feeds 100 kids,

but 100 kids don't feed a mother.

Oh, God, Santa Claus!
Where's the body?

I have to tell the President!
Where's my phone?

In the suite.

Berta, it's Mrs. Bianchini.

Mrs. Bianchini, what a surprise!

I ran into your son
by chance in Budapest.

I'm calling about that wretch.

He got married this morning.
It was a secret wedding.

My son's life is a mystery.

I need you to solve it.
Go find him!

He's honeymooning at Grand Hotel.

Go there and call me
when you have news.

Do you understand? Hurry,
I'm a bundle of nerves!

Italians...

3,000 forints, please.

I left the necklace Roberto gave me
at Franco's.

If I'm not wearing it,
Roberto will never forgive me.

How's your brother?

He dis... departed.

Excuse me, I heard
you were looking for the President.

Are you part of the delegation?

Do you know Walter Bianchini,
the President's secretary?

Yes, why?

- I want to kill him.
- Why?

He's having an affair
with Giulia Rossi, my wife.

- Says who?
- The President.

- What an asshole.
- The President?

No, Bianchini.

When I find him, I'll kick his balls in
and head-butt him.

- Thug style?
- Yes.

Then I'll punch him.

It won't be easy. Bianchini's big,
a 7-foot giant.

Massive shoulders,
shovel-like hands,

he's an ex-martial arts champ.
I'd steer clear.

I'll get a bulldozer from Civitavecchia
and pave him.

What a day...

Here you go, 6,000 forints.

Oh no, my shawl...

Who gives a shit.

"Welcome, newlyweds"...

I'm not married, I'm a bachelor.

Pinna!

You suck!

Mr. President?

Fracassi, you said it'd be a full house,
standing room only.

Mr. President, it's Christmas.

If Rocco Siffredi were here,
it'd be jam-packed.

Like the stadium.

My goodness!

Italy has a solid relationship

with your lovely Hungary.

Respectful and warm greetings to all!

I am delighted that so many of you
have come despite the Christmas season.

Italy and your wonderful country, Hungary

have shared an intimate connection
since ancient times.

I promise

I will do my best to make our friendship
even more fruitful.

How can we forget
Prince Eugene of Savoy,

who halted the Ottoman onslaught
on Buda's hills

to reaffirm Christian principles
in Magyar territory.

We helped reaffirm Christian principles.

I feel obliged...

Excuse me...

It's work.

Work.

An important State matter...

Donald calling from the Oval Office.

Donald?

- Donald?
- Forget Donald, it's me.

Any news about the Danube?

I have some news:
bad news and worse news.

Deep shit!

- The bad news?
- The body vanished.

That's great news!

The worse news?

The body reappeared

and is about to sneak into your suite.

Walking dead?

And I'm shitting myself.
Gotta go, Prez.

Freeze, don't move.

Don't hurt me, Santa Zombie.

I'm an only child
who cares for his sick mother.

Where's President Rispoli
and Senator Rossi?

Still here?

- It's a long story.
- So I see.

- And you?
- A long story.

Help me hide this corpse,
if it is a corpse.

- Meaning?
- I told you it's a long story.

- Where's my husband's room?
- Almost there.

Mrs. Rispoli, the President's wife.
Hide in the bedroom.

- My bag.
- Yes.

The hallway is so long!

Here we are.

Mrs. Rispoli...

this is the hotel's nicest suite.

Delightful.

- Looks like a museum.
- Thanks.

I'll put your bag in the room.

No! No.

Bianchini? What a surprise!

In the closet?

Give it to me, carrying bags is my job.

- Here.
- Only five?

I'm a bag-carrier, not the President.

- Five euros?
- Scram.

Franco was right,
it's a delightful suite.

Before becoming First Lady
I only went on field trips.

I teach geography,
but I've never been to Budapest.

To be honest, I've never seen
a hotel like this before!

Why the unexpected visit,
Mrs. Marisa?

Because today's our wedding anniversary,

but with all of his duties,
Franco must have forgotten.

So I decided to surprise him.

I know my husband
and he'll be thrilled to see me.

Overjoyed.

What a lovely lady!
Who is she?

Dunno, some dame.

Bianchini, why aren't you with him?

I came back here to get
some documents he'd forgotten.

He forgets everything!

- Bet he keeps you running around.
- Especially today...

How can you stand such intensity?

I get breathless just thinking about it.

Okay. Bianchini,

I'll go freshen up
and take a look at the bedroom.

- Don't go in this room.
- Why?

Because it's better over there.
Where?

In my room.

- You're in this hotel, too?
- Yes, room 650. Come...

- Where?
- Over there, just us two.

Now's our chance.

Our chance for what?

To make love.

Crazy!

You are crazy!

Yes.
I'm crazy about you, Marisa.

I feel so odd, like I'm alive.

How incredible!

You are amazing.

It was love at first sight,
don't resist me.

I won't.

Why'd you wait so long?

- Not again!
- Why'd you keep it bottled up?

Because I toe the line.
You shouldn't.

Walter.

I've been married for ages,
I didn't have tenure,

then my husband took to politics

and doesn't look at me anymore,
barely touches me,

he's focused on his career,

on meeting with Macron, Merkel...

It's all become so dull.

But right by his side

was a man who longed for me.

A lot!

Let's get to it.
Room 650 awaits!

No, wait.

They'll see us in the hall,
we'll use the scaffolding.

Scaffolding...

An adventure.

I brought a negligee with me.

We might not need it,
but it cost a fortune, so I'll wear it.

Careful!

Goodness...

Hot, cold...

Cold, hot!

I never know what to wear! Bianchini?

Where are you?

- Franco?
- You?

I left this behind.
Roberto's wedding gift.

I saw him fuming in the lobby,
he wants to kill Bianchini!

- Did you see Bianchini?
- Yes, I have some bad news.

Bad and worse news?

No, just worse news. Come here.

What?

First news.

I thought he had risen?

Whatever.

- Know who he is?
- No.

- A gossip reporter.
- Oh, God!

The second news is even worse,
so brace yourself.

- Have a seat.
- No, I'm too tense.

Know who's come to Budapest? Your...

- What now?
- My head.

He dies, rises, then dies again.
What's wrong?

Do you know who I am?

- No!
- No!

Then we're screwed,
because I don't remember.

- What's my name?
- This news is...

Dreadful.

Why am I dressed like this?

Why was I in a closet
in your home?

No, this isn't our home,
this is a hotel.

- A hotel?
- Yes, hotel.

Now it's starting to come back.

Don't exert yourself.

- Ouch, my head.
- See? Don't exert yourself.

- You're lucky.
- Why?

Because we have a doctor here,
a neurologist.

She's great, we'll consult her.

Dr. Neurologist,
what should he do?

Total bed rest, eyes closed, lying down.

- To the bedroom.
- Let's go.

Come to think of it,
your faces look familiar.

You're not cooperating.

Stop thinking! Stop thinking!

God, what a day.
Her, them, the corpse...

He's gone again?

Bianchini?

Where the heck were you?

- Santa woke up.
- So I see.

Know who he is?
A gossip reporter.

Luckily, the bang to the head
made him lose his memory.

- Now we have to go back to Plan A.
- Plan A?

Move him into your room,
room 650,

because my suite
is getting rather crowded.

- So is mine.
- Why?

Sir, take a deep breath,
sit down and I'll explain.

No, you can explain later,

let's move him before
he recognizes me, it's our only choice.

We still have Plan B.

- Plan B?
- Tell the truth.

The truth?

Are you nuts?
And topple the government?

- I go back to the boondocks?
- Yes.

- Then Plan A.
- Good.

He remembered his name!

Oh, God, this is a nightmare!

God, what a madhouse.

These two names
keep whirling in my mind:

Rossi and Rispoli...

- Ring a bell?
- No...

Ouch, my head!

Go get my sleeping pills
in the bathroom.

- How many?
- The whole box.

- What?
- And the drops, too.

He'll die.

Then we'll resort to Plan C:
wheelchair and Danube.

This is politics, baby.

Maybe I should go back
to the boondocks!

Housekeeping.

Mr. President.
I'm here for turndown service.

- Who are you?
- Caterina, I'm from Apulia.

Only Italians work here?

No, we Italians were assigned to you.
It's an honor.

I came here because I'm dating
an Apulian porn actor.

I see, great.
But quit dicking around and get out.

- And the bed?
- Do it later.

Cookie, come here!

I ordered oysters and champagne.

I told you to wait in there,
your husband could come back.

Yes!

- Sign for the oysters and champagne.
- God...

Stop it.

Enough!

You leech!

Take an oyster as a tip,
you might find a pearl.

Props to you, Mr. Bianchini,
a threesome honeymoon.

Yes, join us!

- Really?
- No, get lost!

- Hope it's the last time I see you.
- The night is still young.

Let's go back.
Whatever you want!

Go on, Marisa!

God, Mrs. Rispoli!

Mrs. Rispoli?

For fuck's sake...

Who's that? Coming!

Coming!

Berta, why are you here?
Pinna let you up?

Your mom sent me.

She said you got married this morning.

She's worried sick.
Where's the bride?

Calm down Berta,
there's no bride, I'm not married.

Walter, what a kiss!

What a bang!

- There is a bride.
- No, she's the President's wife.

- I'll wait here.
- Sure.

She said, "Walter, what a kiss!"

Yeah, more or less.

- Where's your wife?
- In the bedroom but she's not my wife.

- How many women are there?
- I lost count.

I want to see this bride for myself.

- Come!
- Where?

- To my room.
- For what?

Hot lovemaking!

Mr. Walter, are you crazy?

Crazy about you.
I dream of you more than soccer!

Don't resist me, Berta!

I won't!

Mr. Walter,
to think we wasted all this time.

I've longed for you all these years...

...but I kept it bottled up.

That's my line.

And it's the truth because
I've always liked you.

But you're married!

I'm not married, I'm still a bachelor.

What about the lady in the closet
and in the bedroom?

I'll explain under the sheets.

- I won't be a mistress!
- Trust me!

Fine, let's go!

- Come on.
- Wait.

- The key.
- Okay.

First room on the left, 650.
I'll finish up and be right there.

I'll be waiting naked.

All right, baby! I can't wait!

What a babe!

What a dumbass, they all wanted me
but I had no clue.

- More!
- More than 80?

Eighty-one, 82, 83, 84, 85...

Enough!

Here.

- What's that?
- Spa water.

- Will it help?
- For sure.

He's finally asleep.

Now help me move him to your room.

- Not my room.
- Why?

Because there's a naked lady
waiting in my bed for me.

Now's not the time for practical jokes.

What's that?

Marisa! Marisa! Marisa!

Marisa!

- Marisa?
- Huh?

Why are you in a closet in Budapest
wearing a negligee?

Where did you get this negligee?

- Why am I here?
- Why?

I don't know. I don't know.

- My memory's foggy.
- You, too?

- Thank goodness.
- Where are we?

- My head hurts.
- What happened?

The window hit her head
while she was climbing in.

- Why was she climbing in?
- I tried to explain before.

It's your anniversary today
so she came here to surprise you.

Well, she sure did. Sit down, honey.

- No, on this sofa. Fine.
- No, this one.

She used room 650 to get changed.
I tried to keep her there

but since I've been up to my neck,
I lost control of her.

Honey? Honey, look at me.

How could I have forgotten
our wedding anniversary?

I'm getting screwed by politics.

Not just that.

Your face looks familiar.

What's your name?

She's out of it.

That window's lethal.
Robespierre would've liked it.

Quit blabbing,
go get her some water.

Honey, stay put.

Close your eyes and relax.

Relax... you'll be fine.

Some water, rest, and you'll be fine.

I'm here, baby.

So there is a lady in his bed!

Who are you?

I'm so naive and stupid
for believing Walter.

He said he wasn't married.

Mrs. Bianchini, I don't steal husbands.

No, it's not a big deal.

Don't trust him.

He has another woman in suite 648.
In the closet!

- Roberto? Honey...
- So the President didn't lie,

you're Bianchini's lover?

- Why are you here?
- Answer!

- Roberto, let me explain.
- What?

You're in room 650, Bianchini's room.

- You're his lover.
- No, another woman is Bianchini's lover.

- Who?
- Marisa Rispoli, the First Lady.

This is her bag with her initials:
"M R." Marisa Rispoli.

She secretly came to Budapest
just to be with Bianchini!

But... In the room
next door to her husband's?

When women are neglected
they can go astray.

If you're not Bianchini's lover,
why are you here?

I'm here...

for political reasons.

- Meaning?
- I can't tell you.

Only me, Orfini, and Di Maio know.
It's Walter's idea.

- Bianchini?
- Veltroni.

Bullshit! You're a liar
like the President and Bianchini.

Bianchini is a front.
I had you followed...

You met secretly with the President.

It's true.
Why do you think I did that?

- Political reasons, I bet.
- Bingo.

Rispoli doesn't have Senate majority,

some northern separatists betrayed him,
so he needs us.

Remember the Nazareno Pact?

This is Pact 2
with the Five Stars.

But it's top secret, nobody must know.

- Not even Marco Travaglio?
- Roberto, look at me.

Look at me,
I swear I'm telling the truth.

You betrayed Silvio Berlusconi...

but I never reproached you.

Betrayals are not allowed
in politics or life!

But I'll forgive you,
and do you know why?

Because I love you.

I love you!

Finish your water and cover up,
it's cold.

- Yes.
- Come on.

- Feeling better?
- Yes, thank you.

Are you a doctor?

Hold on!
I got it!

Santa's back!

I'm Mariano Tozzi!
I'm married to Loredana!

I have two sons,
Giovanni and Alberto.

I live in Milan on via Silvio Pellico 5,
building A, apartment seven.

Okay, we believe you.

Wait... I went to Cesare Beccaria
High School,

class C with Professor Vignuzzi,

who would always say that the window...

The window?

The window...

Her memory might be coming back.

- We're in trouble.
- I remember everything.

I came in through the window,
and I remember...

everything.

The window.

Professor Vignuzzi.

God bless sleeping pills!

Blessed they be!
I'll put him back in bed.

Bianchini, who's that Santa
with my husband?

Your memory's back?

I never lost it.
I was pretending as a cover-up.

Brilliant!

Bianchini, I need a hand here.

Coming!
Thanks, Marisa.

We'll have a rematch in Rome.

Sure.

- The window.
- Sleep, Tozzi...

What were you whispering about?

Nothing, she was just rambling.

Poor thing.

Hurry, we have dinner
with the Ambassador at 9:00 PM.

Thank you.

You saved the "government of change".

- Can I say something?
- Affirmative!

- Who gives a shit?
- Negative!

Now what?

I came to apologize,
these are for you.

Give them to your wife, forget about me!

No, Berta, let me explain.

Everything I did
was to save the government.

Now I want to save something
I care more about.

My future with you.

Mr. President!

Doctor? Where are we?
Is this your hospital?

I'm not a doctor, I'm your husband,
the Prime Minister.

Sure...

Come on, let's go.

Mr. President...

Hear them?

I'm Prime Minister
and you're the First Lady.

Who?

Let's go, it's cold.

We spent our honeymoon in Venice.

The President is happy to meet you,

he hopes these three days
will reinforce the friendship

and the financial partnership
between Hungary and Italy,

a country he loves, where he spent
his honeymoon ages ago.

He said all that in four words?

It's a Magyar custom.

Please, Mr. President...

- Doctor...
- Wait till they leave.

They're leaving... Doctor?

- I need a drink.
- But don't wander off.

You don't know
where you are and might get lost.

Mr. President? This is my girlfriend,

Berta Molnar.

- An honor, Your Excellency.
- Thanks. What a lovely lady.

Berta and I are getting married.

Married? I didn't even know
you were engaged.

We met this morning
and just decided.

You are amazing!

On a day like today,

you had time to meet her,
become an item, and propose?

I'll nod.

What's wrong? Hands off.

Giulia's husband, the thug!

- They made up.
- They made up...

But if he knows I'm Bianchini,
I'll need the wheelchair!

- Honey, let's go.
- But we just got here.

- Let's stay for 10 minutes.
- I can't.

My world might end in 10 minutes.

Walter, wait!

Relax, don't worry,
he'll be back.

He will.

Who's that in the white tux?

Walter Bianchini, the guy
you thought was my lover.

Just look at him,
I'd never sleep with a guy like that!

Cookie? Are you dancing?

- I'm so glad you're here.
- I'm going back to the hotel.

I'll come back to room 650 with you,
Franco will be here till late.

Hello, Mrs. Rispoli.

Hello.
Do I know you?

I saw you in the closet
at the hotel,

but we weren't introduced.

Berta Molnar. Walter's future wife.

- Really?
- Really. I kept it bottled up.

You bottle things up too much.

Very well, then.
Congratulations to you both.

- What was that?
- She's crazy.

I was a bit brutal with him
at the Grand Hotel earlier.

I'll go apologize.

God, here he comes.
Hide me.

He wants to kill me.
See you at the hotel in 30 minutes.

I'll find a way to get back.

Bianchini!

Where are you going?

Bianchini, wait!

Bianchini!

Stop running!

Bianchini!

Please, don't kill me!

I'll tell you the whole truth,
every single detail.

A toast to two great nations,

and I will make it my mission

to support the needs, the appeals,
and the ambitions of Hungary.

Prosit, and I wish you all

a Merry Christmas.

- Prosit!
- Prosit!

Pay no attention to this man's promises.

Mr. President, you're a fake,
manipulating liar.

Shame on you!
You took advantage of a state mission

to have a fling with my wife,

the sordid opposition Senator,
Giulia Rossi.

- Roberto, what are you saying?
- The truth.

- Are you nuts?
- I have a witness.

Bianchini?

- Bianchini is truly faithful.
- But you're not faithful.

Shame on you!

Bianchini told me the whole truth,
every single detail.

Two rooms, scaffolding,

lavish tips for the staff,
oysters and champagne!

- What?
- Is this true?

- Are you talking to me or the doctor?
- Knock it off.

I never lost my memory.
And you're a louse!

Betraying me in front of everyone
on our wedding anniversary!

Marisa, wait...

It's true.

- It's true but not true.
- Who are you, Pirandello?

No, but I am a man
who lives a life of hell.

Deficit, bid-ask spread, pensions,
unemployment, unions!

Merkel, the polls, Di Maio and Salvini!

What else can I do
but seek out a little intrigue?

Where does one find a little intrigue?
At work.

The woman in question
has a husband with a minor dysfunction.

I know this all sounds
rather morally inappropriate

but we're humans!

But in my defense, we never
went further than the thought.

Yes, this woman and I
never did anything.

It's true, nothing happened.

In the end, life is like politics,

all talk, no actions.

Well, let me tell you something...

Talk, my foot,
unlike you I am all action.

- How so?
- I cheated on you.

- What?
- Yes, this afternoon. Around 6:00 p.m.

But not with thoughts, or real.

I'll let the world know,

because I am a woman of action!

Action with who?

With Walter Bianchini,
in room 650.

Walter? Monster!

Berta, believe me,
it's a misunderstanding.

You can tell the truth now,
no need to hide, admit it.

You love me and kept it bottled up.

Bianchini? Back to the boondocks,
you're fired.

- You're fired as my husband.
- You're fired as my wife.

We never fuck anyway.

I will topple the government with this.

Figures,
I'm all over the gossip rags.

Wait, don't do it!

Bianchini?
What are you doing?

Killing myself... Why live?

I've lost it all:
job, woman, even my dignity.

Think about your mom.

All the more reason to die.

Don't! If anyone
should be jumping it's me.

Disgraced and mocked
internationally.

I wonder what the polls will say!
My career is over.

- Let's jump together.
- No!

What... No. No.

A politician shows his true colors
in hard times.

Idea!

- I have an idea.
- Not again!

I could move up in the polls,
but I'll need your help.

I already did enough for today.

After everything that happened
with my wife, you owe me.

Nothing happened with your wife.
I swear it on my almost-over life.

Ever since the Renzi let-down,
I've been truly faithful to you.

- Truly faithful? Then prove it.
- Yes!

I can't, you fired me.
- You're re-hired.

At your service! What can I do?

Be my lover.

I'll jump.

You don't understand.

- I sure do.
- My fake lover.

Let me explain it: I'll write a tweet
admitting the whole truth:

I'm gay and tried to cover it up

by courting Senator Giulia Rossi.

But I love and have always loved
only one man:

Walter Bianchini!

- Hush.
- All of Budapest must know.

- Not all of Budapest!
- And Italy, too.

How's that sound?

- Awful.
- What?

Don't you get it?

This way the liberal media
will be on our side.

We'll be invited to every talk show,
it'll be great.

People will love me
and feel for me.

You'll see, I'll shoot up
like a missile in the polls.

- I'd rather jump.
- No!

Actually, go ahead, it's not a bad idea.

Not a bad idea at all,
the headlines will read:

"Heartbroken lover
jumps to his demise,

leaving the President with teary eyes."

It's good, it rhymes, too.

What am I saying?
You should live.

Giulia is right for saying
that life and politics

are the same shit.

But in both cases,

there's always room for compromises.

You said fake lover...

I'm just warming up.

Bianchini,
why am I calling you Bianchini?

Walter, I'll call you by your first name.
It's better!

Come on, Walter,
trust me.

- Isn't this grand?
- I wonder how mom will react?

I'm sure she'll react fine.
Just relax.

I'm not relaxed at all.

- Walter, moms understand these things.
- No!

So, you and Senator Rossi...

Nada, zilch, nothing...

- Because you'd already fallen for me?
- Give me a break!

Blue balls and a white Christmas.

- It's snowing.
- Real romantic!

Sure thing...