Cercando La grande bellezza Page #4

---

I've never forgotten the end.

Stop right there, you're stroking

my ego in a dangerous way.

You must've been deeply in love

when you wrote it.

Moravia made the same comment,

more or less.

Even though he worded it

a bit better.

I once saw Piazza Navona

covered in snow.

Really? What was it like?

White!

When I come to Rome I live there.

Deep in the outskirts...

What job you do?

Me? I'm rich.

Great job.

You didn't enjoy it.

I know I'm not very good.

Why do you say that?

Plus it's so sad being good,

you risk becoming deft.

It didn't seem like you cared much.

You're very beautiful, Orietta,

very, very, very beautiful.

I take photos, you know.

Of myself.

At all times of the day,

to get to know myself.

- With the self-timer,

with my phone... - Interesting.

My Facebook friends say

I take great photos.

I bet there are some of you naked...

- A few.

- I knew it!

Do you want to see them?

- Of course.

- I'll get my computer.

The most important thing I discovered

a few days after turning 65

is that I can't waste any more time

doing things I don't want to do.

When I came to Rome,

at the age of 26,

I fell pretty swiftly,

almost without realizing it,

into what might be defined

as the whirlpool of the high life.

But I didn't just want to live

the high life.

Sacconi should be in charge.

Antonini's a f***ing pain

in the ass!

I wanted to be

the king of the high life.

And I succeeded.

I didn't just want

to go to parties.

I wanted to have

the power to make them a failure.

Gambardella?

Sorry for showing up like this,

without warning...

I'm Alfredo Marti.

Nice to meet you, I'm Jep,

but my house is this one.

I don't want to bother you.

How can I help you?

I'm Elisa De Santis' husband.

Did you have children?

No.

I couldn't.

But I could.

I could.

I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

She could too.

Elisa died.

Yesterday.

Alfredo, if you need anything,

you know where I live.

Don't leave me alone, please.

Don't leave me.

We were married for 35 years...

but Elisa always loved you.

What are you saying?

Elisa and I went out together

when we were kids.

She left me, I think,

it was so long ago I don't remember.

Yes, she left you.

On September 8th, 1970.

Exactly...

You're distraught now,

that's normal.

I'm not distraught.

Elisa only ever loved one man.

- You.

- How can you say that?

I never saw Elisa again,

you were together for a lifetime!

I found a diary of hers,

with a lock.

And I broke the lock off.

I write for a living, believe me...

when you write, you give life

to fantasies, imagination, lies...

I was only a good companion.

That's all she wrote about me.

35 years together...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes