The Young Pope (2016–…): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript

All of us cardinals were there,
at the Conclave.

We were on the fourth ballot,
the famous total stalemate.

I looked at Cardinal Dussolier,

a longshot for the Papacy,

we've known each other
since we were kids,

We've shared
every suffering imaginable.

I looked at tall, stoop-shouldered
Cardinal Spencer, my mentor,

the most eligible of all
the candidates, looking so wise.

I've always been suspicious
of wisdom.

I'm convinced he was already
drafting his first papal address

in his head, maybe even
composing his first encyclical.



I looked and looked at them.

And then I prayed to God.

You did well to pray.

At any rate, it is the Holy Spirit
who must illumine...

This was the prayer
I muttered between my teeth:

Lord, I don't care with what means,
licit or illicit,

they're all fine, I don't care
about the Holy Spirit,

whether He illumines me or not,

I don't care about anything, I
don't care about your opinions,

or if I'm up to the task,

or if I'm not an outsider
or a longshot,

I don't care if you think I'm weak,

or a scoundrel, I don't care
about loving my neighbor as myself,

I will never love
my neighbor as myself,



I only care about one thing, Lord,

that I, not the others,
can be useful to You.

I prayed some more,
harder this time.

I was praying so hard
I nearly shit my pants.

I had to glue my ass to my chair
so as not to make a mess,

I stared,
straight to Dussolier and I said:

God, not him, me.

I looked at Spencer and I said:
God, not him, me.

I must have chanted
those words a thousand times

before they opened the voting again,

like a mantra: not him,
me, not him, me,

not him, me, not him, me.

And then, toward the end:
not them, me.

And now I'm the Pope.

Not them.

Me.

Sister Mary would call it a miracle.

Others would call it
the answer to a prayer.

But I don't know what to call it.

They all went white when
they heard the name I'd chosen,

and I reveled in their fear.

They were beginning to realize
who I am,

because that is the enormous
error they committed:

they chose a pope they didn't know.

And today they began to understand.

That is their tremendous sin:

they chose a Pope
they presumed they knew.

I spoke my new name, Pius XIII,

and they forgot
to thank God because they thought

that God had failed
to illumine them.

I forgot to thank God,
because I didn't think

God had illumined them either.

I love myself more than
my neighbor, more than God,

I believe only in myself,
I am the lord omnipotent:

Lenny, you have illumined yourself!
Fuck!

We had a deal, Angelo!

Me pope, you reconfirmed
the Secretary of State.

The perfect balance.

But then you broke our agreement.

You pulled that kid out of the hat.

My own student.

You really are a shit!

You won't be able to manage him,
you know.

You must have learned that by now,
after that homily he gave.

How stupid can you be!

You were so fearful of my extremis,

that you forgot
the most obvious truth:

the young are always
more extreme than the old.

But there is another truth, Michael.

What other truth?

That you were afraid old Spencer
would be beyond your control?

Well, now you got yourself
a young Spencer.

The Church is gonna be in his
clutches for a long time.

And it's not even a given that
you'll be reconfirmed.

I don't understand, what are you
getting out of all this?

You don't understand
because you don't allow me

to tell you the truth.

- And what truth would that be?
- I didn't plot against you.

I didn't direct
my men to vote for Belardo.

Sure, I let people believe
that was the case,

so as to maintain my power.

But that's not how it went.

At a certain point, without
anyone giving instructions,

Belardo started winning votes.

That is the unspeakable truth,
Michael.

Don't fuck with me, Angelo!

What do you expect me to believe?

That what we witnessed in there...

...was the breath
of the Holy Spirit.

I think so, Michael, I really do.

I believe the Holy Spirit breathed.

You're out of your mind.

Michael, the Holy Spirit breathed.

Forgive me, Lord,
for I have been unforgiveable.

It's not true that I illumine
myself. You illumine me.

It's not true that
I feel omnipotent.

You are the Lord Omnipotent.

It's not true that
I don't care about anything.

The only thing I care about is You.

You alone.

And if I've forgotten to thank You,
I thank You now.

And if I've sinned by presumption,
I ask Your forgiveness now.

And if I've tricked
that poor Don Tommaso,

I ask Your forgiveness now.

And if I have frightened people,
I ask Your forgiveness now.

And if I have wished Spencer
and Dussolier harm,

I ask You send harm my way as well.

And if I have abused my power,
I ask You to take it from me now.

Forgive me, Lord, illumine me.

Give me the words to say
to the cardinals.

My address regards You.

My words are Your words.

I keep praying for You to make
something happen,

so why this awful, crawling
feeling that nothing ever does?

I know, dictate to me Lord.

Yes, dictate to me.

I've always been good
at taking notes, You know that.

You know that.

Your Excellency, can I race my
toy cars on the carpet?

"Excellency" you can say
to your mom!

You have to call me: Eminence.

Eminence, so can I...

Do you know
how much that carpet costs?

Twice the GDP
of your entire Country.

Cane sugar for me, please.

You have to buy your
own cane sugar, Aguirre,

because frankly
the stuff makes me want to puke.

It's been four hundred years

since a Pope took such a hostile
stance toward the faithful.

In any case, I have to talk
with the Pope soon.

I'll make a point of divining
his intentions.

"Divining his intentions?"

Voiello, you'd said: I report
to you, the Pope reports to me.

His speech was just one false step.

We have a young Pope.

Have you been reading the paper?!

They're all asking, "what is the
Cardinal Secretary of State doing?"

I know what to do.

What we need...

is a dramatic gesture..

Voiello, you need to hand in
your resignation today.

Excellent!

That's what you'll do, Voiello.

It's a genuine miracle that
this assembly generated an idea.

A first-rate idea.

I'm willing to bet, that
in the aftermath of my homily,

you're ready to hand
in your resignation.

I wouldn't even think
of it, Holy Father.

Were you hurt not to hear
the homily you drafted for me?

Frustration is an emotion that
does not appertain

to the Secretary of State.

- Did you like my homily?
- That's not the point.

Then let's hear the point.

The point is that the faithful were,

to put it euphemistically,
surprised.

More than surprised,
they were overwhelmed.

God overwhelms.

God frightens.

Priorities?

Your speech
to our brother cardinals.

In due time. Anything else?

The Kurtwell case, Holy Father.

The big hot potato.

Exactly, Holy Father.

Your predecessor didn't
have time to put someone

in charge of this delicate matter.

But I will. In due time.

With all due respect, Holy Father,
the time is "now".

The charges of the child-abuse
are detailed and embarrassing

and Kurtwell's attitude is, to say
the least, defiant and insolent.

Anything else?

Holy Father, it's my duty to inform
you that the press and the TV news,

after attacking us
over your inaugural speech,

have now begun a new phase
in which they ask us to clarify

the meaning of your statements.

Typical plebeian reaction:
to hate when you do not understand.

How are we going to put over
the idea that the world press corps

has difficulty understanding
the basic concepts?

A potential compromise might be
to call a press conference

- to explain things.
- I don't appear, I don't explain.

Not you, Holy Father.

I could go myself
to give an interview.

We no longer give interviews,
Your Eminence.

The only interviews
we give are to God.

Too bad he hasn't requested one
yet, it would be quite the scoop.

Holy Father, the press
is begging for a photo of you.

No.

Holy Father, it's Cardinal Ozolins.

Let him in. I've been expecting him.

You wished to see me, Your Holiness?

Yes, and for the last time, Ozolins.

Come with me.

Now...

close your eyes
and choose your new destination.

What have I done wrong, Holy Father?

Nothing.

It's just that your role under
the previous three Popes

was to organize their travels.

A role which I intend
to radically rescale,

because this Pope won't be
wasting time roaming the world.

As a result, I no longer need you.

It would be beneath
your stature as a cardinal

to accept a diminished role so...

Then why do I get the impression

that you're out
to diminish me even further?

Because it's true!

Now close your eyes
and plant a finger on the globe.

Close your eyes.

Ketchikan, Alaska!

Actually, Holy Father,
San Francisco is what turned up.

You're not right there, Ozolins.

Ketchikan, Alaska.

It's a lovely place,
I've been there..

A nice little town,
population 8,000.

You'll like it.

Is it cold there?

Oh, yeah, it's freezing.

But don't forget Nobel laureate
Joseph Brodsky's wonderful words:

"Beauty at low temperatures
is beauty".

Holy Father, a little gift for you.

Blessed Father,
this is a very useful object,

but only if you open it.

You see?

It can be perfectly useful
even when it's closed.

Your Holiness, will you allow me,

given my venerable age,
a vaguely critical observation?

Yes, I allow you.

To expect a devoted and adoring
crowd to ponder the enigma

of God's existence amounts
to asking an obsolete question.

The question now is
not whether God exists,

but rather, why do we depend on God?

You surprised me, Holy Father.

You're so young...

and yet you have such old ideas.

You're wrong about that.
I'm an orphan.

And orphans are never young.

But the majority
of the churchgoers are not orphans.

Says who?

Do you really think the only orphans

are those
without a mother and father?

Even if it were true,

as an orphan grows older, he may
discover a fresh youth within.

We're gonna hold a press conference.

Voiello will be happy
to face the press.

Voiello won't be facing the press,
you will.

Me? I'm not up to the challenge.

I wouldn't know how to respond.

You won't be expected to respond.
You'll be expected to affirm.

Affirm what I am going
to dictate to you.

You look on edge to me.

You always ask rhetorical questions.

Why don't you just tell me
why I'm on edge?

You're upset because
of the press conference.

You've never held one.

Exactly.

And you're depressed
because you wanted to do it.

True, but not because I want
to be in the spotlight.

I would have been happy for
a chance to publicly reassure

the bishops, who've been calling me
from all over the world,

in a general state of alarm.

Can I ask what your general stance
will be at the press conference?

No, you cannot.

Tell the truth, you would have
preferred Spencer as pope.

Spencer has always been smarter
than the rest of us,

but also more fragile.

That's why I worked
against his election.

Have you ever considered becoming
the pope yourself?

No.

A pope needs to inspire trust.

I inspire the opposite.

But the question that distresses me
is: what inspires Pope Pius XIII?

Everyone wants to see him,
and he refuses to be seen.

The faithful expect reassurance,

and instead he offers
only unsettling comments.

I can't figure out
what he has in mind.

What kind of Church
is he looking for?

You tell me, does he have a plan?

I really have to tell you,
Sister Mary:

this Pope is strange
and contradictory.

Just like you.

- Just like me?
- Just like you!

What can you say about a man who

lives in an 6,500-square-foot
apartment with a private sauna...

and a billiard table, surrounded
by fine tapestries,

goldsmithery, damasks,
and expensive artworks,

but who also takes the time,

and energy at night
to babysit a disabled boy.

You're unbeatable, Sister Mary.

No one's unbeatable, Your Eminence.

It's a matter of patience,
which means it's a matter of time.

And that's what I ask of you:
time and patience.

And you're not worried?

No, I'm not.

Michael, I'm worried.

Lenny has barely begun and already
they're abandoning him in droves.

They should have thought about
it before, during the Conclave.

Well now you need
to give it some thought.

I've done everything
that's within my power to do.

- It's up to you!
- What are you raving about?

Lenny needs concepts and visions.

I can't help with that, but you can.

You are his spiritual father.

I'm just a tired old man.

And history has passed me by.

You're just a man who's pissed off

because you didn't get
what you wanted most.

And now you're being spiteful.

A man of your prominence,
wallowing in such childishness:

aren't you ashamed of yourself,
Michael?

- The boy has become a man.
- He's the father now.

And I must obey him.

Those are the rules.

You're just spouting bullshit
and you know it.

He needs you
and you refuse to help him

in the name
of your bottomless vanity.

You will answer for this, before
God and in your ravaged conscience.

Lenny doesn't want my help.

He just wants me
to approve of his mistakes.

That's what every son
wants from their fathers.

So summon him
and withhold your approval.

That's what all good fathers
do with their sons.

The Pope has dictated
the following statement:

"I, Pius XIII, Bishop of Rome,
Vicar of Jesus Christ,

Successor of the Prince
of the Apostles,

Supreme Pontiff
of the Universal Church,

Primate of Italy,
Archbishop and Metropolitan

of the Province of Rome,

Sovereign of the State
of Vatican City,

and Servant of the Servants of God,

wish to inform you
of my total indifference

to your doubts and criticism,

in light of which
I deem it necessary

to reiterate my infallibility

in contrast to your
human fallibility."

Is this Pope claiming divine status?

"And by virtue of the prerogative,

which is dogmatically sanctioned by
the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff,

I will not tolerate any delays

or compromises
as I carry out my plan."

What plan?

We didn't understand
anything about the plan.

And once more
we don't understand who you are?

Me?

I'm Sister Mary.

Who is Sister Mary?

Holy Father, Cardinal Spencer
would be pleased to have you

call on him this evening,
if you wouldn't mind.

What unforgivable weakness!

There was no need to drag out
a bunch of old absurdities

from the past.

All you had to do
was smile and greet the crowd.

I don't smile and I don't greet.

Did all those years
you spend studying with me

do you no good at all?

Yes, they taught
me to think for myself.

Ah, and this is what you
thought all by yourself?

To set every Christian and
journalist in the world against you

in the first week of your Papacy?

This is part of my plan too.

What plan?

What plan?

Absence is presence.

These are the fundamentals
of mystery.

The mystery that will be
at the center of my Church.

Mystery is a serious matter,

it's not some marketing strategy.

Out there,

everyone must learn
that it takes sacrifice

and suffering to find God.

It's too easy to come to terms
with God as the sun is setting.

They have to find Him in the cold
and the dark of night.

The way I did.

"Absence is presence."

"Sacrifice and suffering."

I know where these ideas
are coming from

because I know you even better
than you know yourself.

- Where are they coming from?
- From your own life.

Your parents rejected you,
so you've spent your entire life

trying to receive
them within yourself.

They distanced themselves from you,
so you desire them.

And then you,
in your unmedicated concide,

you presumed that your needs
are the same as those

of a billion of the Catholics!

Cut out this dime-store
psychoanalysis and work with me.

I don't work
with nine-year-old boys.

You've never budged from the front
gate of that orphanage

where one fine day,

without explanations,
your parents abandoned you.

Cut it out.

May God help us!

You want to make the world
pay for the wrong it did you.

You'll be a terrible Pope,

the worst and the most dangerous
in modern times,

and I don't intend to waste
the few years I have remaining

being an accomplice
to a vindictive little boy.

You are drunk.

No. Not enough.

I know that woman.

That's Esther, the wife of Peter.

A Swiss Guard.

Do you still think about me
now and then?

I'm begging you, I need to know:

do you still think about me
now and then?

Let go of me, someone might see us.

So, why did you come get me?

The Holy Father wishes to see you.

Haven't you ever been
in the Apostolic Palace before?

Never, in all these years.

Well, what do you think?

It makes you feel uneasy.

It was designed
and built with that exact intent.

You wanted to meet me?

Was that clear even from up here?

Why were you standing motionless
in the middle of the square?

I wanted you to know.

Know what?

That I loved your homily.

That's not enough!

Because it's not enough
to just love it,

you also need to perceive it.

I think I perceived it.

And what else did you perceived?

What?

Respect.

What's your name?

All right, let's get started.

Holy Father, I am sure that
there is no need to remind you

that the cardinals are expecting
your speech of thanks

and to be sent home.

You're right, there is no need to
remind me, but you did it anyway.

What about the papal tiara
from Washington?

Apparently it's on its way.

Now: the Kurtwell case.

I have a candidate: a layman,
Fabio Claudio Tavarelli.

Highly impartial.

An impartial layman?

Yes, that's Tavarelli.

Your Eminence,
you seem a bit impetuous

when it comes to the Kurtwell case.

I'm not impetuous. I'm fair.

Among the many things that are
fair, let's also remember

that the American seminaries run
by Kurtwell provide forty percent

of all new priests in North America.

Sister Mary, if the intention
is to cover up the Kurtwell case...

No one wants to cover anything up,
Your Eminence.

But I've already told you that I
will oversee the Kurtwell case,

and that I will appoint
someone I trust.

When, Holy Father?

Later.

When the Holy Spirit illumines me.

Only the Holy Spirit hasn't
scheduled a meeting with me yet.

What else
do your agenda books tell us?

On Thursday, the Holy Father
is scheduled to baptize

ninety children
from all over Europe.

Must I really subject myself
to such torture?

Holy Father, the church tends
to attach a fair amount

of importance to baptism.

Anything a little more stimulating?

In light of the statements made
at the press conference,

newspapers around the world have
just begun to unlease holy hell.

Well, that's always the first step
on the path to paradise.

I see.

I'm not the one dispensing jokes
in the Vatican anymore,

Your Holiness, now it's you.

Your Eminence, first of all:

I suggest you recover as soon
as possible your legendary,

fake courtesy.

And secondly:
my jokes contain the truth.

You know something, Holy Father?

You are as handsome as Jesus,
but you are not actually Jesus.

I may actually be more handsome,
but keep that to yourself.

Cardinal Spencer, in a private
conversation between the two of us,

alluded to certain machinations

that led to my being elected Pope.

He was unwilling to acquaint me
with the details.

I'm not going to insist
with Spencer,

but I am with you, Voiello.

So, tell me exactly the dynamics
that went on to see me elected.

Tell me right now, or what you've
seen so far will be nothing

but a foretaste
of the macabre banquet

that will bring on
the ruin of the Church.

Explain it all, right here,

right now, because even
a second later will be too late.

Are you telling me that
you're behaving irrationally

with the faithful, the Vatican
Curia, and the mass media because

you were kept out of the loop on
the behind-the-scenes machinations

that led to your election?

No.

I am ordering you, beginning
with your next utterance,

to tell me why I was elected,

and what my election
was supposed to mean to you all.

In truth, the Holy Spirit...

You were not supposed to be
the man of the Providence,

you were supposed
to be the Pope of compromise.

What do you mean by compromise?

Your prudence as a cardinal was
interpreted as a potential bridge

between the progressive positions
so dear to me

and the more conservative ones
so dear to Spencer.

You were considered
to be a synthesis.

A happy synthesis, pleasing both
to the Holy Spirit and myself,

the great elector who, believing
in you and your young talent,

influenced a majority of cardinals.

Now, for reasons that
are unclear to me,

you no longer want to be a bridge.

And this is only the beginning.

Why are you doing this?

- Why did you change?
- A Pope is not a cardinal.

A cardinal works
in a collegial manner,

while a Pope
is an absolute sovereign.

Fuck, you were supposed
to share your sovereignty

with my advice and Spencer's!

Not like this!

A decidedly undiplomatic response,
Your Eminence.

You're right, Holy Father, and
I humbly beg your forgiveness.

I'm not sure that's enough.

Do you want my resignation?

I'm not sure that's enough.

Tell Valente to go to the archives

and bring the procedure
for deposing a cardinal.

May I ask you both
to leave us for a moment?

Your Eminence,

would you have me believe
that I am Pope thanks to you.

But you and I both know
that's not the truth.

But if the Pope thinks he
can depose the Secretary of State

without all the grave repercussions
that are bound to ensue,

then it means that he
really understands nothing

about the way things work here.

You have no idea
of how vast my powers are,

here and beyond
the walls of Vatican City.

You braved this terrible
storm out of fear

you might lose your cardinalate?

Out of fear I might lose the Church.

Go away.

I don't wanna talk to you anymore.

You're a traitor and a fool.

And I don't know which one is worse.

Wait.

I didn't come alone.

What's he doing?

He's lifting the weight of God.

And what is the weight of God like,
Michael?

Very fragile.

It's extremely fragile.

Which is why you are going to help
us to fortify God.

I tried.

It's hopeless.

No, Michael.

We have to spend...

our whole lives trying.

We have to try right
till the moment of our death.

That's what priests do.

We give God's...

...weight!

I beg your forgiveness, Lenny.

Forgive me.

I've come to tell you
that I've changed my mind.

I'll gladly accept
the position of Prefect

for the Congregation for the Clergy.

I'm sorry, Michael, it's too late.

There is no position left open
for you.

One more thing, Cardinal Spencer.

What?

Address me as Your Holiness.

Blessed Father,
I am the bishop of Belluno,

but I speak for all
the other bishops of Italy

and nearly all the parish priests.

It behooves me to inform you that
something anomalous is happening.

Your words to the faithful have sown

doubt and, worse, fear.

Many of them are afraid...

to set foot inside
their parish church again,

they come to us,
eager for an explanation.

In other words, they're scared.

What truly made our church great?

Fear or tolerance?

What can we learn
from the history of our Church?

How great was the papal state
when fear among nations

was part of our DNA?

How small did we become,

how greatly did our influence
decline, when we decided to yield.

To succumb, to withdraw, to become
accommodating and reassuring?

This place, these people,

placate my sense of disquiet,

all my anxieties,

both ancient and modern.

It's nice and cold, Holy Father.

I don't doubt it, Sister.

Would you be so kind as to bring me
three oranges, as well?

Certainly, Holy Father.

I so wish that I could
have been thunderstruck,

as you were, one May afternoon,

in the heart of the Church.

Instead...

I became a priest for lack
of a better alternative.

From the orphanage with Sister Mary
I went straight to the seminary

under the protection
of Monsignor Spencer.

Then he became Cardinal Spencer.

But between the end of school

and the beginning of seminary

I had a week of vacation.

It was the first time I'd ever been
out in the world on my own.

I went to California,
and there I went to the beach.

And on that beach...

I won over a homely girl

who seemed at the time to be the
most beautiful girl in the world.

How did you win her over?

Please, tell me.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome, Holy Father.

Like this.

We were together for a week.

And then, I entered the seminary.

This is the first time I've told
anyone about it.

Your Eminence, what,
what are you doing in my room?

My dear Gutierrez,

have you ever asked yourself

how I've managed to run the
papal State for all these years?

Many times.

What 's your answer?

It requires a great
overarching vision, I imagine.

Precisely the opposite.

No vision whatsoever,

but by placing importance
on the irrelevant things.

And do you know how I manage to
learn all the irrelevant things

that no one wants to tell me?

No... how?

By learning people's secrets

and threatening to reveal
those secrets to the Pope.

One bottle of gin doesn't make
an alcoholic of me.

Agreed.

One bottle doesn't.

But a whole liquor store full does.

Who told you I'm an alcoholic?

I forgot to confide in you another
stratagem for running the Church:

never reveal your sources.

And if for some reason you have to,
make them up.

Now, my very dear Bernardo,

let's not waste any more time.

You tell me about the irrelevant
things that you and the Pope say

to each other and I will never tell
anyone that I got them from you.

If on the other hand
you refuse to tell me,

I will reveal your
serious problem to the Pope,

and I'll have you sent away
from the Vatican once and for all.

And you, outside of these walls,

will be a lost man,
because you are a fearful man.

What do you want me to say?

We, we don't talk about
anything of significance, really.

Today, for instance, he told me...

with some nostalgia

about a girlfriend he had
when he was just a kid.

You see, things like that,

that's the height
of what he confides in me.

Stupid, silly things.

I knew it!

What did you know, Your Eminence?

That the Church is female!

Holy Father...

I have to ask you a somewhat
unseemly question.

There are no unseemly questions
between you and me, Monsignor.

Because... because you and I
respect each other.

What remained with you
from your experience

with the girl...

...in California?

The memory of her eyes.

At first, eyes full of love,

then later eyes full
of disappointment.

And that was an important lesson.

I understood
that I want Catholics in love

and I no longer want to see
disappointment in their eyes.

Never again.

Still, at the same time,

I occasionally find myself
unable to believe my own words.

I don't believe my thoughts,

I don't believe in my will,

I don't believe in my abilities.

I'm speaking to you
from the heart, monsignor.

There are times...

there are certain times,

or possibly always...

In short, there are times
when I don't believe.

There are times when I think it
might be better to leave it all

in Voiello's hands.

He knows how to do things.

He believes in what he says.

And he still believes in God.

No, Holy Father.

No.

Voiello is a politician.

You are the Pope.

subtitles by sookie
sync and corrections by othelo