Cinema Paradiso Page #5

ALFREDO is caught out. He stops the film where another slip of paper is stuck

in and cuts the scene:

ALFREDO:

'Cause sometimes you can't find the

right place any more and so...well,

actually...they stay here.

(Finding an excuse)

Besides, there are more kisses than

you can count.

SALVATORE:

(Excited)

So I can have these?

(ALFREDO explodes, flies

off the handle. He grabs

SALVATORE by the shoulders

and shakes him.)

ALFREDO:

Look, Toto! Before I kick your ass

all the way to China and back, let's

make a deal. These strips here are

yours, I give them to you. However!

One you're not to stick your nose in

here any more. Two I'll keep them

for you, because you can't take them

home for God forbid and save our

souls, if they catch fire, all hell

will break loose! OK? Oh!!! And now

scram!

He takes him and turns him towards the stairs. For him the matter is closed. He

returns to the film-winder. SALVATORE sneaks back and while ALFREDO's attention

is elsewhere, snatches up a handful of movie frames scattered on the counter,

stuffs them into his pocket and...

SALVATORE:

What sort of deal is this? The strips

are mine! So why can't I come see

them?

And he stares at ALFREDO with a sly, saucy look. ALFREDO clutches his hand,

darts forth like an arrow and is about to give him a kick in the ass. He

shrieks:

ALFREDO:

Get out!! And don't show your face

here again!

And before the kick reaches its destination, SALVATORE has already dashed off

down the spiral staircase.

8 GIANCALDO. SALVATORE'S HOUSE. INT. EVENING

That was not the first theft of film strips. SALVATORE's hand reaches

into a flowery metal box jammed full of pieces of film. He takes out a

few frames and holds them up against the kerosene lamp. Gazes at the

figures that remind him of the films seen at Cinema Paradiso, and in a

whisper mangles fragments of dialogue, the shooting of guns, the

musical climaxes...

SALVATORE:

Bang! Bang! Bang! Shoot first, think

later! This is no job for weaklings!

Treacherous dog!

The house has no lights, is gloomy and cold. SALVATORE's

mother, MARIA, is leaning on the table in front of him. She is

young, around thirty, and her pretty face is haggard, marred by

all the sacrifices. She is sewing some clothes, is a seamstress. LIA,

his four-year-old sister, is sleeping on a cot in one corner. The

kerosene lamp projects the trembling shadow of the film strips on

the wall, figures of prairies, gunslingers, thugs. SALVATORE's

voice changes, turns even tougher.

SALVATORE:

Hey there, you lousy bastard, take

your hands off that gold, You black-

hearted pig, stay away from me, or

I'll smash your face in!

'Ntantatah!!!...

(In the heap of movie

frames there are also

several photographs.

SALVATORE picks them up.

Family keepsakes. A man in

an army uniform. Then the

same man with a girl

beside him whose smiling

face can be recognized as

MARIA. SALVATORE takes a

closer look at the man's

face, then whispers to his

mother:
)

Ma, if the war's over, how come

Daddy's never come back?

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