Lost and Beautiful (2015) Movie Script
LOST AND BEAUTIFUL
Characters
Sarchiapone - Campanian buffalo
Tommaso - shepherd
and guardian of an abandoned palace
Pulcinella -
traditional Campanian character,
intermediary between the living
and the dead
Gesuino - shepherd and poet
The undersigned Tommaso Cestrone
requests that Sarchiapone
is given the gift of speech
so he may tell his own story
and the story
of the lost and beautiful palace
that was rediscovered thanks to me.
Sincerely, Tommaso Cestrone
As far as I'm concerned, I would have
liked to have been born on the moon
or any other planet.
In fact nowhere could be worse
than where I am now.
Not that our planet isn't good enough
as long as you're born with a good name
or great luck.
But that's not my case.
I was not born in a tree
or inside a comfy house.
My only roof was my mother's womb.
And occasionally an old floorboard,
if I was lucky.
This is my story.
It's all I have and I cherish it dearly.
When I stop telling it,
it will be because I've gone
once more to safety
on a distant star.
But for now it's still too early.
The undersigned Tommaso Cestrone,
having found a buffalo calf
in the area of San Tammaro...
- Carmine, where's Pasquale?
- Over there.
What beautiful puppies!
Pasquale, I've found a buffalo calf,
can you give me some milk?
We need to go over there.
- Here you go, Tommaso.
- Thanks Pasquale, bye.
The palace has been abandoned.
Everyday people steal, at night.
Fireplaces, capitals...
Everything.
A car stopped once, it was February.
"Who gave you this contract?" he said.
I was working outside with the bulldozer.
I told him: "I'm a volunteer."
"Volunteer, eh!"
Two days later they blew up
the wall and gate at home.
They poisoned my goats.
They burnt down my caravan.
They punctured the new car's tyres,
slashed with a knife.
I don't want to press on
because we've hit a dangerous nerve.
I'm not leaving here until it lives.
Carditello must live on.
The Camorra protects us.
If the Camorra was there,
it would have protected us.
The Camorra is honest,
the State steals money.
They've even tainted the flag!
Shame on you! Shame on you!
Bastard!
You need to stamp on this bloody flag.
You need to stamp on it.
They should be ashamed.
...LET THEIR DEATHS BE NOT IN VAIN
How long have you
looked after the palace?
Overall, for three years,
as a volunteer.
Before, people talked about the rubbish
at the Carditello palace.
It became my obsession to remove it,
I was trying to save the palace.
Today, though, when you won't
see even a plastic bottle...
It's worse,
because I see it immaculate,
but people can't go inside.
They stop at the gate, saying:
"When is it opening?"
It will never open, because
the judge never signs the licenses.
Who oversees your work?
My work?
It's out of my own pocket.
And the tools too.
And no one says thank you.
And who looks after your sheep?
I do, at 4am and then at 6pm.
My son helps me.
How much longer can you resist?
I want to see what happens to it,
I want to see if the palace lives or dies.
I want to see it live,
but no one understands that.
How long is a life?
It's like the sheltered rest
of a traveller along the road.
Tommaso went away for good
one night when Jupiter shone
in the Leo constellation.
My kind owner went up there.
A bit earlier, at sunset,
I'd said goodbye
to that animal lover for the last time.
And I was once again alone.
And though I already had a name,
without my kind owner to use it,
the only person interested in using it
was the damned Grim Reaper.
It was his obsession.
I think he lost his life
because of the palace.
For me he still lives on in that place.
I brought him up.
He was a good person, a polite person,
respectful of everyone.
I'm sorry to say this, but it's what I feel.
Tommaso is dead not because
of the Carditello palace.
Tommaso is dead
because he was abandoned.
This morning, 25 December,
the Angel of Carditello
was carried off by a heart attack.
After so much pressure
defending his beloved palace,
his heart gave up.
I'M SUFFOCATING
I'M DYING
- We need to go now.
- Hold on, Antonio.
Let's take these three as well.
It's getting dark!
Let's take these and go.
Look, it's Pulcinella.
What do you want, Pulcinella?
Come here, let me stroke your hump,
maybe it'll bring us a bit of luck.
Stroke it.
What is that thingy?
Can't you see? It's a bird call.
- A bird call?
- Show him, Antonio.
Each colour is a call?
Are these the birds you've caught?
They're so beautiful.
Why don't you let them fly?
- And what will we eat?
- Let them fly.
- Birds are made to fly.
- And we should go hungry?
- What does he want, Antonio?
- If I were you, I'd let them fly.
It's up to you.
Look at him!
Where are you going, Mascaron?
- What are you doing here, Pulcinella?
- Where is Tommaso?
Tommaso's not here anymore.
- Where is he?
- He's dead.
He died on Christmas Eve.
He'd said it: "As soon
as all is in order here, I'll go."
- And who are you?
- Who am I?
I'm the new caretaker,
the State is here now.
- The State?
- Look, they've even put the flag up.
- Did he leave me something?
- What?
Did he leave something for me?
Come with me, Pulcinella, let's go.
Come on, hurry up.
There's no time to lose, move it.
Let's go, Mascaron.
You see this buffalo calf? It's for you.
For me?
You need to take it, it can't stay here.
Are you sure it's for me?
This buffalo is Tommaso's,
the Angel of Carditello.
Come on, take it, hurry up.
Otherwise tomorrow
they'll take it to the abattoir.
You know the males here... Understood?
Understood.
Ok, take care!
Take care!
Farewell, Pulcinella!
Farewell.
Where are you going with him?
To Tommaso's tomb, where the tree is.
- Where is Tommaso's grave?
- For Tommaso's tomb...
...go straight, it's beneath the tree.
The Angel of Carditello is there.
Where?
All the way down there?
Ok.
Ok.
"September's come, let's go,
it's migration time.
In the Abruzzi lands my shepherds
are leaving their summer folds,
down they climb,
sloping toward the untamed Adriatic,
its brine as green
as pastures in the mountains.
They have drunk deeply
from the alpine fountains.
Native waters linger as solace
in their exile hearts
and cheat the thirst
that dogs them on their way.
Each is clutching
a fresh-cut hazel crook.
They take the path
their forefathers took
the old drove-road,
which bears them to the plain
as if upon a silent current of grass.
And oh the trembling sea
and the young swain shouting
at what he's never seen before!
The flock is moving now along the shore.
Around it, all the air is at a stand.
The sun has painted that living wool
so blond it's hard to tell it from the sand.
Splashing, tromping, sweet noise.
Ah, why am I not with my shepherds there?
Nothing, totally neglected.
Sarchiapone, this was once a lovely barn.
Now it's full of tyres.
You know who put them there?
You know nothing.
This was a beautiful barn,
full of good people and now it's empty.
Let's go, there's nothing to eat here.
Perhaps thanks to my ancestors,
who had been so fond of humans
and served them with dedication,
once again the wind
turned my way.
And brought me a good friend.
He came from the unknown
and was ignorant of everything.
Like me, he didn't yet have a name.
He had the features of a Pulcinella
who since ancient times listened
to the dead to speak to the living.
And followed orders from on high
without understanding them.
I shared this fate as a servant with him.
I to humans,
he to immortals.
Trusting of the system
which orders everything,
but which is too busy
to stop and explain itself.
We can't take them, Sarchiapone.
It's no good looking the other way.
We can't take them.
I know, I'm sorry,
I'm sorry too.
They were unlucky.
They find themselves in this situation
and now they'll need a lot of luck.
Shall we go?
Do you want to stay here?
We need to go.
I know, I'm sorry too, there's a fair one too.
Look how lovely he is!
Should I leave you here too?
It's not far.
I know...
What should I do? What do you think?
You were entrusted to me by Tommaso
if not you'd end up like them. Let's go!
Come in, Pulcinella.
- Make yourself at home.
- Thanks.
Sit down.
The lady told me I could sleep upstairs.
You can sleep upstairs.
My sister and I can't though
because our parents died there
and it upsets me.
What are you doing
with that worthless male calf?
You could have got a female,
at least it produces milk.
I know, but...
I'm a doing a favour for a friend.
They kill them and sling them,
because they're worth nothing.
I know, that's why
I'm taking him far away, to safety.
- Do you want to eat with me?
- Thanks, gladly.
I was born here and I must die here.
But everything was more beautiful once.
Really?
How come?
Before there was work,
everybody was together in the fields,
nowadays you don't see anyone.
In the last shining lands of the south,
exists a hidden ministry
that defends nature from human beings.
A maternal spirit of unlimited power
to whose meticulous and perpetual care
the slumber of those sleeping peoples
is entrusted.
If only for a moment that defence slackens,
if the sweet cold voices of human reason
could penetrate that nature,
it would be struck down.
Sleep, my Pulcinella.
Sleep.
This incredible
and secret defence of a territory.
The faint nature
with its songs and its sorrows
its deaf innocence
dictates the conditions of this land
and the pitiful end human reason meets.
Here, thinking is nothing but a slave to nature.
And as soon as criticism appears,
or a tendency arises to correct
the celestial structure of these lands,
to see in the sea only water,
in volcanoes chemical compounds,
in man only innards,
the human race is perished.
A large part of this nature
of this maternal and custodian spirit
occupies the same species as man
and keeps it oppressed in sleep.
And day and night
watches over its sleep.
Careful that he does not improve.
Good morning, Pulcinella.
I've washed your clothes.
These are my father's shoes.
If they fit, you'll revive his soul.
Certainly.
You have a glint in your eyes.
I could almost remove this mask.
Why don't you remove it?
- What's your name?
- Teresa.
You're beautiful, Teresa.
Could you tell me why this calf won't eat?
I'll show why it won't eat!
Pass me that bucket.
You see why he won't eat the hay?
He still needs milk.
You try.
Let me see.
Ah, there we go.
Move it.
Come on!
Come on!
Move it!
Shall we go, Sarchiapone?
Do you want to stay here?
You're happy here?
Ok, I understand.
Have we found hospitality?
What d'you reckon? Shall we?
It's freezing, I can feel it in my bones.
Let's go inside.
Come on, Sarchiapone.
Thank you.
What a day, Sarchiapone!
We're nearly there.
Don't worry, lie down if you want,
they won't say anything.
Look at this jenny, she's pregnant.
Now it's her turn
to let her son fall to the ground.
One morning in 1900
I went to breakfast in Selvapiana
And I ate three oxen and a cow
Seven geldings including the wool
Who are you?
Are you Gesuino?
Of course I'm Gesuino.
Gesuino, we've come from afar.
We're tired,
we've come all the way by foot.
Do you see this buffalo?
It's been sent to you by Tommaso
the Angel of Carditello.
He's sent it to me? Why?
You're asking me? What do I know?
They were going to kill it,
because it's a male.
He's an orphan.
He grew up without a mother.
Pulcin!
You see this?
This is the tree of death.
From here one goes to the afterlife.
The afterlife?
- So it's a shortcut.
- Yes.
Good to know.
I have shepherd dogs
to watch over the sheep.
You bring the whole flock here?
Yes.
It's wonderful here.
Dear Pulcinella
you see that lovely fountain?
- This one?
- This is a magic fountain.
Enchanted water.
If you drink this water,
you'll become another man.
Another man? I'm immortal!
But I can't refuse.
- Should I drink it?
- Drink it, trust me.
You're right.
What are you doing? Come in.
- Come in!
- Thank you.
You rest, I'll deal with the buffalo.
Give it here.
Go on, don't worry, he'll treat you well.
Gesuino'll take care of you.
Pulcin,
seeing as you're so tired,
there's some straw over there,
go and rest.
Go and rest.
Pulcin!
- What's going on?
- Wake up.
Wake up, I've prepared you dinner.
Let's go.
Follow me!
There you are.
So...
What do you reckon how will this calf
fare in this region?
Will he be ok?
Because where he comes from,
it's completely different.
Well, they're different lands those,
different habitats,
here there are more mountains.
But you'll see, I'll find a way.
If Tommaso has sent me the buffalo...
I'll find a system for it.
To us and to Tommaso.
Tommaso, may God be with him.
Let's hope there'll
be many more Tommasos,
many more like him.
I will always remember Tommaso's scent.
The same scent of that land,
I had been forced to leave.
I can see his charming, disdainful smile
in that lovely face of his.
And imagine the mild shock
that enveloped him that night.
Get some rest.
Bye.
Thanks.
One must make a choice.
If I have to suffer anyway, I want to decide
how and what to suffer.
Hunger is not the only scourge.
There are plenty of others.
I want decide where and with whom to be.
I want to be free from this slavery.
Come on, Sarchiapone.
Let's go.
Get up.
Come on!
Damn!
Stubborn like a buffalo.
Come on, Sarchiapone.
I've found you the ideal spot.
- Morning, Gesuino.
- Morning, Alviero.
You working?
- Where are you going with this calf?
- It's a long story, I need a favour.
What do you need?
Seeing as you have space,
fatten it up for me.
No.
- It's a male, what can I do with it?
- When it's fattened up, we'll eat it.
This won't fatten up,
if it was female I'd take the milk,
but it's male.
When it's nice and fat, in a year...
How strange my fate was!
I had travelled there
to a new owner
to be sentenced to death once again.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
But they would have taken a knife to me,
they would have pierced me
and then torn me apart,
spilling my innards onto the ground.
That night I dreamt that all humans
had become winged creatures
and they had flown far away,
to the celestial land of immortality.
Earth had been covered with dense forests
and had been bequeathed to the animals.
But then I woke up, still longing for it.
When will all this finish?
When will humans
leave us to our own fate?
At last you have come back!
Pulcinella exists no more.
I don't want to be Pulcinella anymore.
If I have to die,
I want to do it unmasked.
Where's Sarchiapone?
I've taken him to the cattleman.
When he's fattened up,
we'll eat him together.
For God's sake!
I told you he was a special buffalo,
he's a buffalo that speaks.
Where's the cattleman?
- I know where he is.
- Let's go and get him.
Come on, let's go.
Hurry up, let's go.
Grab that, let's go and get him.
Hurry up, walk.
You took him to the cattleman!
We slept side by side,
now I should let you eat him?
Morning, Alviero.
Pulcinella here wants the buffalo back.
He's convinced it can speak.
He speaks.
He's convinced it speaks.
What is it, Sarchiapone? Come here!
Come here!
Sarchiapone!
I've come to find you.
Do you want to speak?
Gesuino says you can't speak.
Speak! Speak!
They'll send you to the abattoir,
you're here to fatten up.
Speak! Speak!
He doesn't want to speak.
Because you're here.
Sarchiapone, they'll kill you, understand?
You don't want to come.
You want to stay here?
You want to eat. Fine.
Take care!
It was a lovely journey.
I came to save you
and now it's up to you.
Let's go, you're right, he wants to stay.
He spoke and now he no longer wants to.
We'll eat him together.
For God's sake! You're insisting?
Say it again...
We'll eat him on the anniversary
of Tommaso's death.
Again? What if I was to eat you?
Leave me be. You're nuts.
- Walk.
- Nutjob!
The spell was broken.
Without his mask,
my friend no longer heard my voice.
My friend,
I couldn't explain to you
that pursuing you into reality,
like you asked me,
was impossible.
Dreams and fables,
although imaginary,
should tell the truth.
For years it suffered
Camorra lootings, deserted auctions,
destined to increasingly become a ruin.
The royal site of Carditello,
the great 18th-century Bourbon residence,
in the heart of the 'land of fires'
in San Tammaro, of Caserta
now belongs to the Italian people.
Everyone remembers Tommaso,
the volunteer who'd been its guardian,
despite threats and intimidation,
who died shortly after Christmas Eve
having left a message to the ministry:
"My Christmas is here in the Carditello palace".
Now my story comes to an end.
Perhaps the meaning has been conveyed,
perhaps not.
But it doesn't matter.
To love life is what really counts.
Despite everything,
I'm proud of being a buffalo.
In a world that denies we have a soul,
being a buffalo is an art.
Men have such a ridicuolus belief...
being the only ones to have a soul
in this immense universe.
But I'm sure that there
on other planets, where I'll go,
they think differently about us.
Go on.
Get up there, go on.
Go on.
Up you go.
Don't move, stay still.
Leave it be.
Go back.
Go on.
To Tommaso Cestrone
Characters
Sarchiapone - Campanian buffalo
Tommaso - shepherd
and guardian of an abandoned palace
Pulcinella -
traditional Campanian character,
intermediary between the living
and the dead
Gesuino - shepherd and poet
The undersigned Tommaso Cestrone
requests that Sarchiapone
is given the gift of speech
so he may tell his own story
and the story
of the lost and beautiful palace
that was rediscovered thanks to me.
Sincerely, Tommaso Cestrone
As far as I'm concerned, I would have
liked to have been born on the moon
or any other planet.
In fact nowhere could be worse
than where I am now.
Not that our planet isn't good enough
as long as you're born with a good name
or great luck.
But that's not my case.
I was not born in a tree
or inside a comfy house.
My only roof was my mother's womb.
And occasionally an old floorboard,
if I was lucky.
This is my story.
It's all I have and I cherish it dearly.
When I stop telling it,
it will be because I've gone
once more to safety
on a distant star.
But for now it's still too early.
The undersigned Tommaso Cestrone,
having found a buffalo calf
in the area of San Tammaro...
- Carmine, where's Pasquale?
- Over there.
What beautiful puppies!
Pasquale, I've found a buffalo calf,
can you give me some milk?
We need to go over there.
- Here you go, Tommaso.
- Thanks Pasquale, bye.
The palace has been abandoned.
Everyday people steal, at night.
Fireplaces, capitals...
Everything.
A car stopped once, it was February.
"Who gave you this contract?" he said.
I was working outside with the bulldozer.
I told him: "I'm a volunteer."
"Volunteer, eh!"
Two days later they blew up
the wall and gate at home.
They poisoned my goats.
They burnt down my caravan.
They punctured the new car's tyres,
slashed with a knife.
I don't want to press on
because we've hit a dangerous nerve.
I'm not leaving here until it lives.
Carditello must live on.
The Camorra protects us.
If the Camorra was there,
it would have protected us.
The Camorra is honest,
the State steals money.
They've even tainted the flag!
Shame on you! Shame on you!
Bastard!
You need to stamp on this bloody flag.
You need to stamp on it.
They should be ashamed.
...LET THEIR DEATHS BE NOT IN VAIN
How long have you
looked after the palace?
Overall, for three years,
as a volunteer.
Before, people talked about the rubbish
at the Carditello palace.
It became my obsession to remove it,
I was trying to save the palace.
Today, though, when you won't
see even a plastic bottle...
It's worse,
because I see it immaculate,
but people can't go inside.
They stop at the gate, saying:
"When is it opening?"
It will never open, because
the judge never signs the licenses.
Who oversees your work?
My work?
It's out of my own pocket.
And the tools too.
And no one says thank you.
And who looks after your sheep?
I do, at 4am and then at 6pm.
My son helps me.
How much longer can you resist?
I want to see what happens to it,
I want to see if the palace lives or dies.
I want to see it live,
but no one understands that.
How long is a life?
It's like the sheltered rest
of a traveller along the road.
Tommaso went away for good
one night when Jupiter shone
in the Leo constellation.
My kind owner went up there.
A bit earlier, at sunset,
I'd said goodbye
to that animal lover for the last time.
And I was once again alone.
And though I already had a name,
without my kind owner to use it,
the only person interested in using it
was the damned Grim Reaper.
It was his obsession.
I think he lost his life
because of the palace.
For me he still lives on in that place.
I brought him up.
He was a good person, a polite person,
respectful of everyone.
I'm sorry to say this, but it's what I feel.
Tommaso is dead not because
of the Carditello palace.
Tommaso is dead
because he was abandoned.
This morning, 25 December,
the Angel of Carditello
was carried off by a heart attack.
After so much pressure
defending his beloved palace,
his heart gave up.
I'M SUFFOCATING
I'M DYING
- We need to go now.
- Hold on, Antonio.
Let's take these three as well.
It's getting dark!
Let's take these and go.
Look, it's Pulcinella.
What do you want, Pulcinella?
Come here, let me stroke your hump,
maybe it'll bring us a bit of luck.
Stroke it.
What is that thingy?
Can't you see? It's a bird call.
- A bird call?
- Show him, Antonio.
Each colour is a call?
Are these the birds you've caught?
They're so beautiful.
Why don't you let them fly?
- And what will we eat?
- Let them fly.
- Birds are made to fly.
- And we should go hungry?
- What does he want, Antonio?
- If I were you, I'd let them fly.
It's up to you.
Look at him!
Where are you going, Mascaron?
- What are you doing here, Pulcinella?
- Where is Tommaso?
Tommaso's not here anymore.
- Where is he?
- He's dead.
He died on Christmas Eve.
He'd said it: "As soon
as all is in order here, I'll go."
- And who are you?
- Who am I?
I'm the new caretaker,
the State is here now.
- The State?
- Look, they've even put the flag up.
- Did he leave me something?
- What?
Did he leave something for me?
Come with me, Pulcinella, let's go.
Come on, hurry up.
There's no time to lose, move it.
Let's go, Mascaron.
You see this buffalo calf? It's for you.
For me?
You need to take it, it can't stay here.
Are you sure it's for me?
This buffalo is Tommaso's,
the Angel of Carditello.
Come on, take it, hurry up.
Otherwise tomorrow
they'll take it to the abattoir.
You know the males here... Understood?
Understood.
Ok, take care!
Take care!
Farewell, Pulcinella!
Farewell.
Where are you going with him?
To Tommaso's tomb, where the tree is.
- Where is Tommaso's grave?
- For Tommaso's tomb...
...go straight, it's beneath the tree.
The Angel of Carditello is there.
Where?
All the way down there?
Ok.
Ok.
"September's come, let's go,
it's migration time.
In the Abruzzi lands my shepherds
are leaving their summer folds,
down they climb,
sloping toward the untamed Adriatic,
its brine as green
as pastures in the mountains.
They have drunk deeply
from the alpine fountains.
Native waters linger as solace
in their exile hearts
and cheat the thirst
that dogs them on their way.
Each is clutching
a fresh-cut hazel crook.
They take the path
their forefathers took
the old drove-road,
which bears them to the plain
as if upon a silent current of grass.
And oh the trembling sea
and the young swain shouting
at what he's never seen before!
The flock is moving now along the shore.
Around it, all the air is at a stand.
The sun has painted that living wool
so blond it's hard to tell it from the sand.
Splashing, tromping, sweet noise.
Ah, why am I not with my shepherds there?
Nothing, totally neglected.
Sarchiapone, this was once a lovely barn.
Now it's full of tyres.
You know who put them there?
You know nothing.
This was a beautiful barn,
full of good people and now it's empty.
Let's go, there's nothing to eat here.
Perhaps thanks to my ancestors,
who had been so fond of humans
and served them with dedication,
once again the wind
turned my way.
And brought me a good friend.
He came from the unknown
and was ignorant of everything.
Like me, he didn't yet have a name.
He had the features of a Pulcinella
who since ancient times listened
to the dead to speak to the living.
And followed orders from on high
without understanding them.
I shared this fate as a servant with him.
I to humans,
he to immortals.
Trusting of the system
which orders everything,
but which is too busy
to stop and explain itself.
We can't take them, Sarchiapone.
It's no good looking the other way.
We can't take them.
I know, I'm sorry,
I'm sorry too.
They were unlucky.
They find themselves in this situation
and now they'll need a lot of luck.
Shall we go?
Do you want to stay here?
We need to go.
I know, I'm sorry too, there's a fair one too.
Look how lovely he is!
Should I leave you here too?
It's not far.
I know...
What should I do? What do you think?
You were entrusted to me by Tommaso
if not you'd end up like them. Let's go!
Come in, Pulcinella.
- Make yourself at home.
- Thanks.
Sit down.
The lady told me I could sleep upstairs.
You can sleep upstairs.
My sister and I can't though
because our parents died there
and it upsets me.
What are you doing
with that worthless male calf?
You could have got a female,
at least it produces milk.
I know, but...
I'm a doing a favour for a friend.
They kill them and sling them,
because they're worth nothing.
I know, that's why
I'm taking him far away, to safety.
- Do you want to eat with me?
- Thanks, gladly.
I was born here and I must die here.
But everything was more beautiful once.
Really?
How come?
Before there was work,
everybody was together in the fields,
nowadays you don't see anyone.
In the last shining lands of the south,
exists a hidden ministry
that defends nature from human beings.
A maternal spirit of unlimited power
to whose meticulous and perpetual care
the slumber of those sleeping peoples
is entrusted.
If only for a moment that defence slackens,
if the sweet cold voices of human reason
could penetrate that nature,
it would be struck down.
Sleep, my Pulcinella.
Sleep.
This incredible
and secret defence of a territory.
The faint nature
with its songs and its sorrows
its deaf innocence
dictates the conditions of this land
and the pitiful end human reason meets.
Here, thinking is nothing but a slave to nature.
And as soon as criticism appears,
or a tendency arises to correct
the celestial structure of these lands,
to see in the sea only water,
in volcanoes chemical compounds,
in man only innards,
the human race is perished.
A large part of this nature
of this maternal and custodian spirit
occupies the same species as man
and keeps it oppressed in sleep.
And day and night
watches over its sleep.
Careful that he does not improve.
Good morning, Pulcinella.
I've washed your clothes.
These are my father's shoes.
If they fit, you'll revive his soul.
Certainly.
You have a glint in your eyes.
I could almost remove this mask.
Why don't you remove it?
- What's your name?
- Teresa.
You're beautiful, Teresa.
Could you tell me why this calf won't eat?
I'll show why it won't eat!
Pass me that bucket.
You see why he won't eat the hay?
He still needs milk.
You try.
Let me see.
Ah, there we go.
Move it.
Come on!
Come on!
Move it!
Shall we go, Sarchiapone?
Do you want to stay here?
You're happy here?
Ok, I understand.
Have we found hospitality?
What d'you reckon? Shall we?
It's freezing, I can feel it in my bones.
Let's go inside.
Come on, Sarchiapone.
Thank you.
What a day, Sarchiapone!
We're nearly there.
Don't worry, lie down if you want,
they won't say anything.
Look at this jenny, she's pregnant.
Now it's her turn
to let her son fall to the ground.
One morning in 1900
I went to breakfast in Selvapiana
And I ate three oxen and a cow
Seven geldings including the wool
Who are you?
Are you Gesuino?
Of course I'm Gesuino.
Gesuino, we've come from afar.
We're tired,
we've come all the way by foot.
Do you see this buffalo?
It's been sent to you by Tommaso
the Angel of Carditello.
He's sent it to me? Why?
You're asking me? What do I know?
They were going to kill it,
because it's a male.
He's an orphan.
He grew up without a mother.
Pulcin!
You see this?
This is the tree of death.
From here one goes to the afterlife.
The afterlife?
- So it's a shortcut.
- Yes.
Good to know.
I have shepherd dogs
to watch over the sheep.
You bring the whole flock here?
Yes.
It's wonderful here.
Dear Pulcinella
you see that lovely fountain?
- This one?
- This is a magic fountain.
Enchanted water.
If you drink this water,
you'll become another man.
Another man? I'm immortal!
But I can't refuse.
- Should I drink it?
- Drink it, trust me.
You're right.
What are you doing? Come in.
- Come in!
- Thank you.
You rest, I'll deal with the buffalo.
Give it here.
Go on, don't worry, he'll treat you well.
Gesuino'll take care of you.
Pulcin,
seeing as you're so tired,
there's some straw over there,
go and rest.
Go and rest.
Pulcin!
- What's going on?
- Wake up.
Wake up, I've prepared you dinner.
Let's go.
Follow me!
There you are.
So...
What do you reckon how will this calf
fare in this region?
Will he be ok?
Because where he comes from,
it's completely different.
Well, they're different lands those,
different habitats,
here there are more mountains.
But you'll see, I'll find a way.
If Tommaso has sent me the buffalo...
I'll find a system for it.
To us and to Tommaso.
Tommaso, may God be with him.
Let's hope there'll
be many more Tommasos,
many more like him.
I will always remember Tommaso's scent.
The same scent of that land,
I had been forced to leave.
I can see his charming, disdainful smile
in that lovely face of his.
And imagine the mild shock
that enveloped him that night.
Get some rest.
Bye.
Thanks.
One must make a choice.
If I have to suffer anyway, I want to decide
how and what to suffer.
Hunger is not the only scourge.
There are plenty of others.
I want decide where and with whom to be.
I want to be free from this slavery.
Come on, Sarchiapone.
Let's go.
Get up.
Come on!
Damn!
Stubborn like a buffalo.
Come on, Sarchiapone.
I've found you the ideal spot.
- Morning, Gesuino.
- Morning, Alviero.
You working?
- Where are you going with this calf?
- It's a long story, I need a favour.
What do you need?
Seeing as you have space,
fatten it up for me.
No.
- It's a male, what can I do with it?
- When it's fattened up, we'll eat it.
This won't fatten up,
if it was female I'd take the milk,
but it's male.
When it's nice and fat, in a year...
How strange my fate was!
I had travelled there
to a new owner
to be sentenced to death once again.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
But they would have taken a knife to me,
they would have pierced me
and then torn me apart,
spilling my innards onto the ground.
That night I dreamt that all humans
had become winged creatures
and they had flown far away,
to the celestial land of immortality.
Earth had been covered with dense forests
and had been bequeathed to the animals.
But then I woke up, still longing for it.
When will all this finish?
When will humans
leave us to our own fate?
At last you have come back!
Pulcinella exists no more.
I don't want to be Pulcinella anymore.
If I have to die,
I want to do it unmasked.
Where's Sarchiapone?
I've taken him to the cattleman.
When he's fattened up,
we'll eat him together.
For God's sake!
I told you he was a special buffalo,
he's a buffalo that speaks.
Where's the cattleman?
- I know where he is.
- Let's go and get him.
Come on, let's go.
Hurry up, let's go.
Grab that, let's go and get him.
Hurry up, walk.
You took him to the cattleman!
We slept side by side,
now I should let you eat him?
Morning, Alviero.
Pulcinella here wants the buffalo back.
He's convinced it can speak.
He speaks.
He's convinced it speaks.
What is it, Sarchiapone? Come here!
Come here!
Sarchiapone!
I've come to find you.
Do you want to speak?
Gesuino says you can't speak.
Speak! Speak!
They'll send you to the abattoir,
you're here to fatten up.
Speak! Speak!
He doesn't want to speak.
Because you're here.
Sarchiapone, they'll kill you, understand?
You don't want to come.
You want to stay here?
You want to eat. Fine.
Take care!
It was a lovely journey.
I came to save you
and now it's up to you.
Let's go, you're right, he wants to stay.
He spoke and now he no longer wants to.
We'll eat him together.
For God's sake! You're insisting?
Say it again...
We'll eat him on the anniversary
of Tommaso's death.
Again? What if I was to eat you?
Leave me be. You're nuts.
- Walk.
- Nutjob!
The spell was broken.
Without his mask,
my friend no longer heard my voice.
My friend,
I couldn't explain to you
that pursuing you into reality,
like you asked me,
was impossible.
Dreams and fables,
although imaginary,
should tell the truth.
For years it suffered
Camorra lootings, deserted auctions,
destined to increasingly become a ruin.
The royal site of Carditello,
the great 18th-century Bourbon residence,
in the heart of the 'land of fires'
in San Tammaro, of Caserta
now belongs to the Italian people.
Everyone remembers Tommaso,
the volunteer who'd been its guardian,
despite threats and intimidation,
who died shortly after Christmas Eve
having left a message to the ministry:
"My Christmas is here in the Carditello palace".
Now my story comes to an end.
Perhaps the meaning has been conveyed,
perhaps not.
But it doesn't matter.
To love life is what really counts.
Despite everything,
I'm proud of being a buffalo.
In a world that denies we have a soul,
being a buffalo is an art.
Men have such a ridicuolus belief...
being the only ones to have a soul
in this immense universe.
But I'm sure that there
on other planets, where I'll go,
they think differently about us.
Go on.
Get up there, go on.
Go on.
Up you go.
Don't move, stay still.
Leave it be.
Go back.
Go on.
To Tommaso Cestrone