1 GIANCALDO. SALVATORE'S MOTHER'S HOUSE. EXT/INT. DAY
The October sun slashes through the gray clouds, cuts across the
shadow towards the sea, along the coast where the new suburbs of the
city of Giancaldo have been built up.
Bright light streams through the windows, glancing off the white
walls in an almost blinding reflection. MARIA, a woman a little over
sixty, is trying to find somebody on the phone.
...Salvatore, that's right,
Salvatore. Di Vita Salvatore
...But, miss, what do you mean you
don't know him?!...I...Yes...
(She gives a nervous sigh.
She has dialed her way
through endless numbers
but still hasn't managed
to speak to Mr. Di
Vita. She finally heaves a
sigh of relief.)
...That's right, good for you!
Oh!...yes...And I'm his
mother. I'm calling from Sicily. Been
trying all day...Ah, he's not
there...But would you be so kind as
to give me...?...Yes...
(She nods at another woman
around forty sitting
it is LIA, her
daughter, who jots down
the numbers her
...Six, five, six, two, two, oh,
six...Thanks ever so
She hangs up, takes the number LIA has jotted down, determined to have still
another try. LIA speaks to her as if she were a baby, to be more convincing.
Look, Ma...It's useless calling him.
He'll be terribly busy, God knows
where he is. Besides he might not
even remember. Do as I say, forget
it...He hasn't been here for thirty
years. You know how he is.
MARIA pauses to think it over. The decision she has to make is important. Then,
He'll remember! He'll remember!
(She puts on her glasses
and starts dialing
...I'm positive. I know him better
than you do. If he were to find
out we hadn't told him, he'd be
angry. I know.
(She takes off her
...Hello? Good morning. Could I
please speak to Mr. Salvatore Di
Vita. I'm his mother...
2 ROME. STREETS. EXT/INT. NIGHT
It's late, but there is still traffic on the streets heading downtown.
Inside a high-powered car, a man around fifty is driving. It is
SALVATORE Dl VITA. Elegant, just growing gray, a handsome face
creased by deep wrinkles. His weary expression hides the determined,
sell-assured manner of the successful self-made man. He must be a
heavy smoker judging by the way he draws the last puffs on his
He stops at a red light. He stubs out the cigarette and rolls down the
window, as a little Fiat Uno pulls up alongside. A rock tune plays full
blast on the radio. SALVATORE turns instinctively to have a look at the
man at the wheel a BOY with a brush cut standing straight in the latest
fashion. He studies the Boy's expression with almost exaggerated
attention, but devoid of curiosity, coldly. The GIRL sitting beside him,
lots of curly hair, overripe red lips, returns SALVATORE'5 look,
provocatively. The BOY notices, turns to SALVATORE in a surly voice:
Hey! What the fuck you looking at!?
Green light. The Fiat Uno shoots off, leaving a trail of music in its wake.
3 ROME. SALVATORE S APARTMENT. INT. NIGHT
The apartment is luxurious, tastefully furnished. There is no one waiting for
SALVATORE. Through the picture window on the terrace, the city can be seen
slumbering in the night. SALVATORE gets undressed on his way to the bedroom. He
moves quietly, as if to make no noise. He doesn't even turn on the light,
finishes getting undressed in the pale blue glow coming from the picture window.
A rustling sound, a movement on the bed, the voice of a woman waking up.