Made in Italy

Synopsis: Riko works in a cured meats factory, like his father, surrounded by more pigs than people. The real, everyday love he shares with Sarah, is in predicament. While Riko's unhappy with his job...
Genre: Comedy, Drama
100 min


Hear him ?

- So what?

- "So what?"

Why do you keep whistling ?

- Sorry ?

- Why do you keep fucking whistling ?

- That's my goddamn business.

- No, it's mine too.

- He keeps whistling !

- Max, drop it, get back to work.

He can't even whistle properly.

- Hey, Riko.

- Hey.

Your friend's a jerk.

You're not so bad yourself.

He's worse.

- See you.

- Bye.

As for corruption

in the public service sector,

we're bottom of the league.

Italy is Europe's most corrupt country,

beaten only by Bulgaria.

The shower was freezing.

What's up with the boiler ?


Everything you deserve

Angela's invited us to dinner tomorrow.

- Patrizio's bringing his new boyfriend.

- Someone texted you.

"M" ?

As in "matador" ?

Or "motherfucking lover" ?

- Save it with a fake female name.

- Don't look at my phone.

- It was staring right at me.

- Don't ever do that again !

I'm going to Milan on Monday,

I'm taking an afternoon for myself.

A little louder,

they can't hear you in Palermo !

These speakers are mine !

Do you want to blow them ?

- You're still pilfering my records ?

- Sometimes.

I was just finishing up...

The footage I shot with the captions:

"How did I get here ?",

"What am I doing here?"...

I'll make a short movie.

Not about you, rockstar.

I'll shoot more material then edit it.

What's up ?

I've found a studio flat in the centre.

What for ?

I'm happy here, I can't

afford to pay rent.

- Neither can you !

- We'll manage.

You need to move on.

You need to grow up.

- Cut the apron strings.

- You've rowed with mum ?

Leave her out of it.

I don't want you to settle for this.

It's too easy to settle.

It's too easy to settle ?

What's wrong ?

It's Friday.

Everyone's an expert now, you see ?

"Today it went up to 215".

215 what?

"The spread !"

The spread ?

There's no smoking in my car.

What? Since when ?

Since I quit.

What the f*ck do I know anyway ?

Instead I had to worry about him,

for the spread. Do you get me ?

Is everything Okay 7

Yes, can I call you back ?

It's best I call you back.

I will.

- This calendar's five years old.

- Yes.

Anyway, spreads, sacrifices,

various bullshit and then Copelli.

- Copelli ?

- Punga.

Oh, Punga.

They fired him today.

That's the third in under a month.

I know... you don't care about the spread.

- Where are we going ?

- To Baracca.

Didn't it shut down ?

- Do they still play rock music ?

- Yeah !

Rock music... you wish !

Won't they let you in ?

'Cause of your crap shoes ?

On the train, dimwit!

Here he is !

This is Riko.

This is Carla, that's Miriam.

Miriam's a beautician.

Should you need her...

Whereas Carla is my osteopath

and unofficially... she was my model.

- What do you mean by "unofficially" ?

- Well...

Whatever he's told you,

I've never done anything with him.

I sat for free,

so drinks are on you tonight.

- Have you been friends long ?

- Unfortunately, yes.

So what's his real name ?

Why's he called Carnival ?

Is that his surname ?

He signs his paintings with that name too.

Does he look miserable ?

- No.

- Doesn't he look like a carnival puppet?

- Yes.

- Plus he's done jack shit all his life.

Not bad, huh ?

If you're having too much fun,

we'll tone things down.

Miriam... a beautician...


Carla !

- Am I interrupting ?

- No, we were waiting for you.

I heard you liked young guys,

but this is going too far.

Mama, you've had your say,

you can go now.

Apart from the age thing,

isn't pulling someone's wife sleazy ?

- You know she's my wife.

- Ex-wife.

Now go away.

Miriam, do you have the hots

for oldies too ?

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Luciano Ligabue

Luciano Ligabue (born 13 March 1960), commonly known as Ligabue or Liga, is an Italian singer-songwriter, film director and writer. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018


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    "Made in Italy" STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 30 Sep. 2020. <>.

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