THE WORLD CAN'T TEAR ME DOWN
NO INVASION NO ETHNIC REPLACEMENT
POLICE
POLICE STATION
Wait here.
Let me start at the beginning, otherwise everyone will be confused.
It was Wednesday morning.
I remember that Secco was pressing me with a question,
and I was struggling to answer.
Which would you choose?
I don't know. I need my fingers to work.
- You have to choose. - God, you're such a pain!
Wait! Maybe we need to go back further, from why we were meeting up that day.
We were gonna talk about important stuff.
I don't remember what exactly, but it's easy to figure it out.
On my way there, I already had a conceptual plan
of what we might say to each other.
Remember, you are white, cis, heterosexual males born in the '80s,
so you absolutely can't talk about
feelings, positive emotions, being fragile, doubts, vegetables, jams,
pets, legumes, unless it's related to flatulence...
Feel free to release.
Umbrellas, scissors, nail clippers, or silk scissors.
Work is fine. But with Secco, it's like talking to a dog in the desert.
What common ground could there possibly be?
So, as conversation starters, you're left with gossip and fights.
Which, lucky for you,
those are the only two things in life
that Secco thinks are worth leaving the house for
to discuss with other human beings.
Mind you, Secco's vision of the world isn't run-of-the-mill.
It makes an unexpected connection between Bridgerton,
with the whole English court discussing Lady Whistledown's juicy articles...
and the classic hooligan mentality of Anglo-Saxon tradition.
Lady Marian smashed a bottle in the duke's face outside the stadium.
The Queen is here! Now let's drink beer!
I'm happy he wants to discuss these things in person,
because, objectively, these issues shouldn't be talked about on the phone.
It's delicate stuff, sometimes even criminally significant.
If you remember, Berlusconi always said this country is full of wiretaps.
And I'm terrified that one day, my conversations will come out.
Not for me, but because the controversial topics
could put the people I love in danger.
EXCLUSIVE WIRETAPS FROM CARTOONIST: "I SWEAR, HE FUCKS DOGS!"
I'd have to kill myself.
That's why I always have a cyanide capsule in my cheeks,
like a squirrel with acorns.
SORRY, PARENT 1 IT'S THE BAD INFLUENCES
I don't know. We might have talked about when Enrichetto beat Federicone...
Look, I'd have to check the dates in my fight diary.
But we sorted it out quickly
because with social media,
this has become the city of promised slaps that never materialize.
It took us ten minutes to wrap it up,
then we moved on to philosophical speculations.
They may be idle, but they're still of a high standard.
Come on, choose. Would you rather have a finger for a dick
or five dicks instead of fingers?
I don't know. It depends if I need to work.
Everything is the same as now. You have the same job,
but either a finger-dick or a dick-hand.
Left or right hand?
You're overthinking it. I can't do this with you.
Wanna get an ice cream?
I need to go home. This afternoon I have a work thing. Maybe...
- Wanna get an ice cream? - Let me go home and take a shower.
- Wanna get an ice cream? - The same tone.
It's like he's recorded this phrase and just keeps pressing "play."
Wanna get an ice cream?
It's like talking to a rubber wall.
Like hitting quicksand with a pickaxe. Forget it. It's not worth it.
Let's go get this ice cream.
CLOSE THE MIGRANT SHELTER
NO INVASION NO ETHNIC REPLACEMENT
I don't know exactly what time it was,
but that was the first time I'd seen those shitty posters.
God, I'm so tired of this bullshit.
- What? - The shelter, over here.
- No idea what you're talking about. - The posters you ripped down!
I like ripping things.
So, it's like this.
Imagine a package arrived a month ago that no one wanted to sign for.
It was in the way, no delivery note.
So, they took it all round the houses,
and it ended up in a neighborhood that we'll call "Dicksville."
DICKSVILLE
Much like every time,
the Nazis quickly showed up and started winding people up.
Are we supposed to sign for this package?
With all the shit we have going on, we have to deal with this too?
There's always someone who's pissed off here.
They get poked and prodded, until a pogrom happens.
It's not so out of this world.
Guys, we gotta choose. We either eat fish in Ostia,
or we gather with clubs like at Frankenstein's castle.
We can't do both. It's already 6 p.m.
By then, things in Dicksville had gotten messy.
The Nazis wanted to burn the package, the cops were in the middle,
and some of our friends were quietly disagreeing with the Nazis.
It really was an unmanageable situation.
So, someone said...
Okay, we get it.
This package is scrap. We'll move it somewhere else.
And they brought it to our neighborhood.
So, that was an extremely simplified diagram
to explain the dynamics.
But the package is actually 35 people. Men, women, and children
who arrived from Libya a month ago.
It's hard to even imagine we're talking about human beings.
You don't see them or know shit about them.
Just that they've been thrown into a shelter
behind the school, near the house of the guy
who cut his mother-in-law's chihuahua's head off,
a kilometer and a half from here.
For the past three days, these shitty posters
have been popping up here too.
Should we go fight them?
Fight them? You're obsessed with fights.
You sound like my mom this morning.
Have you seen all those Nazi posters near the bakery?
Please don't fight them. You can't go to jail.
You have sensitive adenoids.
My mom has an anxiety problem.
Nothing to do with jail. A lot to do with adenoids.
Don't go barefoot. Put your slippers on. Otherwise, you'll get a sore throat.
Mind your adenoids!
Mom, I'm going to Syria!
If ISIS kidnaps you, tell them about your adenoids
so they give you some woolly socks.
Anyway, the adenoids are a lost battle,
so I focused on the issue of jail.
Mom, please! Look, one, these guys aren't coming.
They made all this noise in Dicksville because they have a little following,
but there are no Nazis here.
And two, I'm not getting arrested!
I made a series for Netflix. I can do as I fucking like now!
Whatever, you're too sure of yourself. Remember Daedalus's son,
what's his name, Icarus.
He was obsessed with flying higher and higher,
but never wore a scarf to protect his throat, and look what happened.
ICARUS TAKEN FROM US BY BAD BRONCHITIS
And think about your friends in Dicksville who are still in jail.
Mom, I dare them to try!
In my line of work, jail sells like hotcakes.
Think about all those gangster things that talk about prison,
like Tupac or Gramsci.
Gramsci bought himself a house.
MIXTAPE FROM PRISON
I hate indifferent peeps I'll knock out their teeth
Damn you, Benito Got me put in prison
Tony Gramsci won't stay quiet!
I swear, I don't understand how you're such an ass.
My mom is ancient. She doesn't get it.
Anyway, we went to get that ice cream.
So, your intentions were already set?
Going to get ice cream.
Yes, but apart from the circumstances, what was your state of mind?
I was pissed because they said they didn't have any dark chocolate,
but I knew it was coming out.
Do you understand what he's saying?
Could you please articulate your words better?
If I articulate more, I get nosebleeds.
Munchausen nosebleed! He says it's the scientific name.
The poor man behind the counter!
Can I have dark chocolate?
Sorry, we don't have dark chocolate, just normal chocolate.
No, I only eat dark chocolate.
Normal chocolate gives me nosebleeds.
He says that about everything.
I have to sit in the front or I get nosebleeds.
I have to choose the film or I get nosebleeds.
I have to eat the last one or I get nosebleeds.
No one knows what to say to him.
He just confuses you.
- I understand, but we've run out... - Now we move to...
They're talking about Dicksville!
The investigating judge had a meeting in prison today with the 11 people
arrested for the events in Dicksville.
We'll talk about that after seeing this footage
summarizing the day.
REPORT BY MARTA KNOW-IT-ALL
These are graphic scenes,
but we believe that this is what public services should provide.
Not hypocrisy and niceties, but brutality and resentment!
This news was distressing for me
because in every report talking about brutal, violent people...
GET THE NAZIS OUT
...you saw an image of a woman
being taken away like she was a ferocious beast.
But that ferocious beast is Sandrina, the librarian in Dicksville.
If you see her, she looks like Heidi. She's soft and sweet,
with rosy cheeks and a voice like the Nokia ringtone.
She does all the workshops with children in her local area,
and the first time I saw her, she saved my life.
Please, can you draw me a sheep?
I don't know how to draw sheep. Why don't we do a dinosaur?
How about a Plesiosaurus?
No, a sheep!
Okay, but...
You said you draw comics, didn't you? Draw him a fucking sheep!
Sheep's ears don't look like that.
- Guys, he's not a cartoonist. - Who are you really?
Children! Pie's ready!
That was worse than when Tottenham fans wanted to beat me up
because they'd mistaken me for someone else.
- Thanks, because... - You can't work like this.
You need to control your emotions. They can sense fear.
You gotta understand who they are.
The little boy. Never look him directly in the eye.
He bites and carries diseases.
Why is Sandrina dressed like she's cosplaying the Gabibbo?
They're all in black. She's the only one in red.
You'd have to be a real idiot to go and fight dressed like that.
BERLIN 2006 AN ITALIAN ARRESTED
"HE LOOKED LIKE THE GIRL IN SCHINDLER'S LIST"
If you dress like that, of course they nick you.
Excuse me!
Mr. Armadillo, what does "nick" mean?
I don't know. I'm from South Tyrol.
It means "they arrest him," Mrs...
Whatever the fuck your name is.
They arrest him, ma'am. They get him, grab him, snatch him.
It all means the same thing.
"Grab his balls in Vipiteno."
Seeing as you remember these synonyms,
you can take home three credits.
That's useful if you want to put on Facebook
that you graduated from the University of Life.
Now, I don't want to cry, "Oh, my poor friends!"
Because I know they lose their temper sometimes.
But I'm always a bit perplexed
when I see who they call to comment on news like this.
A Random Show!
Mr. Mario,
please tell us the key to understanding this phenomenon.
I was walking my dog, he's a two-year-old puppy,
and he freaked out. Of course he would!
But how do you explain to a bulldog, looking at you with those big eyes,
that such people are on the loose?
I don't know the reasons for this chaos.
I don't want to. I'm not a politician.
I just think that in a civilized country these people should die in jail,
or, in any case, experience terrible things in dark places.
Like cleaning old people's butts in Potenza.
You see? It seemed to me that everything contributed to a slightly hostile climate,
which threw this heavy cloak of worry over us.
I don't give a shit. I was thinking about ice cream.
Of course, why should you? I'm the one who'll be a guest
on that shitty show next week.
Why? Because of the fights?
No, I'm going to talk about my work.
But after this report,
I'll have to say a few words about this.
Hey, losers!
Okay, maybe the music was a bit over-the-top,
but there's a reason I experienced it like this.
Sarah and I hadn't spoken for a while
because once I ignored her call and she got mad.
In theory, I just had to apologize.
But she wants apologies in Dolby Surround and poetic verse,
so I procrastinated, and two months went by.
And I couldn't even say that I was busy.
I was there eating ice cream, and she was sure to have a go at me.
She'd think we were involved in a great plot amongst men
who meet up without her.
Are you having ice cream? What flavor did you get?
We're waiting for the dark chocolate to come out.
I'll get one too. Shall we go eat it at the park?
I was speechless. Like waiting for the train to hit me,
I could see it coming, I clenched my teeth,
and instead of the train there was a cute unicorn
giving me a kiss.
I thought, "Maybe I've died from the force of this fit of anger,
and I haven't realized." So I asked...
Aren't you mad at me?
Why should I be?
Maybe because I missed your call.
Come on! That's because you're an ass. That's nothing new.
It's even on the fortune cookies at the Chinese restaurant in Rebibbia.
YOUR FRIEND IS A RIGHT ASS
I know who makes those. He's a piece of shit.
He's not even Chinese.
But it's strange for you to be smiling so much.
Do you have something to tell us?
Did you get laid?
I've been living with Stella for three years
and we agreed to fuck every 72 hours.
And that was yesterday.
So, yes, I got laid. But I don't see why that should change anything.
Do you still say "laid" when it's two women?
Yes, what would I say otherwise? That we play bridge?
No, but if I do what you do with a girl, mechanically speaking,
I don't know if I can technically say I got laid.
I'm going to pretend I didn't get it or I'd have to beat you up.
Plus, thinking about you doing those things is horrifying.
I'd rather picture you reproducing through spores.
Mitospores, which are more hygienic, like fungi.
But he's right. You're not usually like this.
Tell us what's happened.
Well, today I had an interview and...
I don't want to count my chickens, but I think I got it.
I'll start teaching in September.
Fucking hallelujah!
Hey, I don't give a shit either, but just say something to be polite.
Now you're like a proper cop.
I know that you have a troubled relationship with school authority,
but at least I can get out of that shithole I was in.
Yes, I don't think it was very rewarding.
When you have some time, I've been through all the candidates
and I've found the perfect graphic designer.
Thanks, hun, but we've chosen a young artist
who shares the company's vision.
Can't you do this logo any better?
Why the fuck did I give him those crayons for Christmas?
Fine.
The malcontent committee declares that for today
you have a valid reason to be happy.
It's not confirmed yet,
but at least I have something to cling onto, a glimmer of hope.
I should tell you that I'm taking an important step too.
I haven't told anyone yet.
- I think I already know. - How do you know?
It's something to do with elocution, isn't it?
No. What elocution?
No, I don't know, then. Come on, tell me.
No. What is it about elocution?
No, I got it wrong. Tell me about your step.
Tell me about the elocution thing!
Nothing. I thought you were taking elocution lessons.
I thought I'd understood that it could be important for your work.
But why? I speak perfectly fine.
My mom says that I have a clear, baritone voice.
Yes, but you know some say you mumble a bit.
It could be a way... Anyway, who cares? Go on, tell me.
I don't understand.
I don't know of anyone ever complaining about how I speak.
CONTROVERSY ON ROMAN DIALECT. ZEROCALCARE, "GOD, GUYS"
TOO MUCH DIALECT HE TALKS WAY TOO FAST
So, are you going to tell me?
Fine, the thing is, I'm going to be making... a film.
A cartoon, but a long one, that'll be in theaters.
I'd never found a producer for it before.
That's amazing! Much better than elocution lessons.
Only three people have done this in Italy.
I found someone to invest a load of money.
But I didn't know who to tell.
You could have called me, idiot.
Look, I'll be honest.
I was anxious that we hadn't spoken for two months.
And I was uncomfortable because, honestly,
I can tell you this now, your job is shit.
I didn't want to boast about something good happening to me.
Thank goodness you're having a career change now.
You're triumphantly leaving the field of bitter losers,
where you were a top scorer,
and you've earned your spot in the guilt-ridden team
of those who have made it on their own.
Don't tell me. I already feel a bit like that.
Of course, like everyone who has been saying for 30 years
that the only solution is a collective one.
That everyone makes it, or no one does.
Instead, in the end, you make it, but you can't enjoy shit
because you're surrounded by rubble.
And what fucking scavenger is okay in the rubble?
Okay, now you're making me sad.
Will you let me have one happy day?
Yes, but keep a low profile.
Besides, it's my way of not messing with karma.
If it sees you being arrogant, it might kick you in the ass.
At that moment, I realized we always laugh a lot,
but we almost never smile.
This feeling of soft, relaxed, smiling faces is strange.
It's very different to how our faces usually are.
All crumpled up because we're laughing so loud
and we don't hear the monsters inside us screaming.
Or all tensed up because we're eating ourselves up
and we're this close to exploding.
We're basically never calm and relaxed.
That's why I remember it so well.
Anyway, it was a nice moment.
I didn't have time to go home, but it gave me the strength
to go to that meeting with the program writers.
I'll describe them like the Lickers from Resident Evil,
those monsters with very long tongues,
but not because they're damn ass-lickers, of course.
It's just to protect their privacy.
Plus, we might have to work together. You never know.
Are you nervous? You don't need to be nervous!
It's like a walk in the park.
Look, I'm not nervous.
It's just that I get a bit tongue-tied with the cameras.
Have you not seen the program? Mauro is great at putting guests at ease.
After ten seconds, it'll be like talking with a friend.
With a friend?
So, finger-dick or dick-fingers?
Mr. Mauro, my mother is watching!
I'm not sure if I want to go on TV to talk to a friend.
So, we were thinking of something funny.
We wanted you to talk about the film, of course.
But first you could do a fun scene. Something silly.
Maybe you say your famous ice cream catchphrase.
You know? Like in the series.
Remember? "Wanna get an ice cream?"
I wanted to say, "Of course I remember."
"That's my friend who's obsessed with ice cream."
Instead, I tried to pitch something.
You think I have one minute to say a quick thing?
You talked about the riots in Dicksville,
and the journalist was very tough, and I'm in a bit of a pickle...
I don't think so.
But we can make the ice cream melt.
You'll get annoyed and let out a fart.
Yeah!
Can you really fart the tune of Für Elise?
If not, we'll ask the director. He has loads of sounds.
No, that was the dog.
I'm only asking
because I don't have a problem coming on the show.
But I'm worried that if I don't clarify things,
it'll look like I agree...
Look, she's breastfeeding a dog!
Oh, sorry, I wasn't following.
I think that you're getting really bogged down.
It's not like we're in Bertolucci's 1900.
I don't know what you're picturing.
The armadillo represents the false bourgeois consciousness
exploited by the imperialist state against the popular masses...
Enough with this shit, you damn lefty!
Listen to me, you can't do it.
You're not in the business. The riots are a sensitive issue.
It's not like science. Anyone can talk about that.
Yes. However, let me say that this is about people fighting Nazis.
I don't get it. Indiana Jones whipped them, and everyone was like,
"You go! Genius!"
The Blues Brothers ran them over and everyone laughed.
But Sandrina is a leper.
Do you like it?
There's even a looser one,
like a duck running off between your legs.
I LOVE YOU BUT WE'RE SIBLINGS
By the way, do you always talk like that, or is it a character?
My sister is a speech therapist. She's quite cheap.
- Do you think I talk weird? - Weird, how?
With a Roman accent that no one understands... Weird.
No way! At most, you have a bit of an accent.
But you could be a guy from Trieste who watches I Cesaroni.
I think I talk normal, but I'm starting to worry that maybe...
Trust me, you talk better than Google Maps.
But as your conscience, let me say that you're obsessing over this
to avoid thinking about Wednesday.
You have a problem, my friend.
Because you're keeping quiet about your friends in jail,
which contravenes the first rule of human decency.
Which is...
Even more important than letting women and children onto the lifeboats
when everything is sinking...
you don't abandon people in jail.
I know.
I know that you know.
But this is a penitent's first step towards darkness.
Be careful not to become a bald blob with asthma.
Careful!
My moral hero
has always been Massimo Giletti,
who is a great professional.
You decide.
As always, I never judge you.
SOLD-OUT TRAITOR
I didn't say anything to Secco about my worries,
because he's as flat as a piece of turf.
But then I saw these other posters,
right where we had torn them down.
I got weirded out and I said...
How horrible. They put them straight back up.
There might be someone in the area who checks.
They're not the same ones.
And they weren't the same.
These were about a meeting on Wednesday outside the shelter.
No, this is bad.
- I told you we were going to fight. - What a pain!
Hey, idiots!
Have you been keeping the bench warm for me?
We turned around and we didn't know who it was.
It was just a silhouette in the shadows.
We couldn't even tell if it was a man or a demon.
And from its mouth came something truly evil,
like a knife with a blade forged in the flames of hell.
Losing your hair, huh?
You look like your dad.
Fuck you! Cesare, what the fuck are you doing here?
What am I doing? Is it not my home anymore?
I know it's your home, but it's been 20 years!
I don't know what we said to each other.
It was late. We talked for five minutes, more or less.
To be honest, I didn't know what to ask him.
You know Orpheus and Eurydice?
It's like that. Imagine that asshole didn't turn around,
managed to get Eurydice out of hell, and then asked her...
What are we doing this weekend? Do you play padel?
Is there somewhere we can watch soccer?
Understandably, she doesn't know what to say.
Who knows what she went through.
It seems fair to me.
This is why it's so difficult to have stupid chats.
Come on, move!
Come on!
Let's get out of here!
I don't know what you ask someone who's just come out of hell.
ITALY FOR ITALIANS
MIGRANT SHELTER OPENING HOURS
Subtitle translation by: Luisa Zamboni