My Brilliant Friend (L'amica geniale)

And this is your bibliography, good.

All you have to do is get to work.

I'm already doing it, professor.

And what would you like to do after?

- I'd like to teach. - Good.

That's an excellent idea.

In fall there'll be a civil service exam for teachers' training college.

I'd actually like to try and embark on an academic career.

I see.

Greco...

You're a good student, I hold you in high regard. You've worked hard.

Thank you, professor.

But it's better not to run before you can walk.

You see...

Each one of us is the result of a long process of refinement

that often spans generations

and you have definitely put in the effort,

but nature does not take leaps.

And then, I don't mean to offend, but take your accent.

Yes, it has improved,

but it's a signal among the many that don't favor you.

Just think how useful your education could be

in training a new generation of elementary teachers.

In any case, let's take it one step at a time.

Let me read some of your thesis soon.

Everything Franco Mari had given me was out of fashion,

and had grown old on my back.

I'd always be afraid,

afraid of saying the wrong thing, of using an excessive tone,

of revealing petty feelings, of not having interesting thoughts.

Look who it is! Naples.

Naples!

Remember to bring me the sweater I left in your room last night!

What do you want?

I'm Pietro Airota.

- So? - You're Elena Greco, right?

- What do you want? - I see you all the time.

Well... I wanted to say I'm sorry about before.

Those guys are boors who don't respect anyone.

I was cowardly, I wanted to intervene but I couldn't bring myself to.

- Intervene to do what? - To defend your good name.

I don't have a good name.

May I walk with you?

Perhaps it's better than stalking me.

You're a brilliant student, so many people say so.

- How old are you? - Twenty-two.

- Are you writing your thesis? - It's not finished.

Then I'll have to see to its publication.

Publication?

If your thesis is good, they publish it.

I didn't know that.

Is yours good?

I don't know.

I don't know if I'm any good.

I don't know if my thesis is valid.

I get good grades in the exams,

but that doesn't mean that I'm clever or intelligent.

- What are you talking about? - It's true.

Are all the theses that come out well, published?

Yes.

I don't know if mine's interesting.

Everything's interesting if you know how to approach it.

- What's it on? - It's on Horace.

- Astronomy and astrology. - Fascinating.

Really? Do you know Horace well?

And I can keep going until you stop me.

Bravo!

You could help me with my thesis.

- Are you going home at Easter? - No.

- You never go back? - I haven't been back in ages.

Everyone leaves, what do you do?

I study.

Thank you for walking me home.

I'm very glad to have spoken to you.

I'll see you soon.

- You mix in the right circles! - What do you mean?

That's the son of Professor Airota.

- Who's that? - He's a bigwig in the academic world.

His mother's important too, it's a family that matters.

Don't let him get away.

I was blocked, for a while I couldn't work on my thesis.

I stared at the pages in books without seeing the lines.

I racked my brain about what to do.

Give up at the end, return to the neighborhood,

graduate, teach in elementary schools?

Teacher. Miss Greco.

In the neighborhood I'd be seen as someone important,

the porter's daughter who'd known everything since she was small.

You mustn't read, Elena.

You must study.

Philosophy, Latin...

adventure novels...

the daily news, fashion magazines, you must always study.

Always try to understand.

To understand...

Come.

I'd mourn my time with Franco Mari for the rest of my life.

How lovely those months, years with him had been.

At the time, I hadn't realized their importance

and now they made me sad.

The rain, the cold, the snow,

the springtime scents along the Arno River, politics, literature...

His room at night, his body...

all gone.

I'm lying to myself, I thought.

Had it all been so wonderful?

Even then, I knew there was shame,

awkwardness, humiliation and disgust.

To accept, endure, force oneself...

Is it possible that even happy moments of pleasure

don't bear closer inspection?

I don't know why I started writing a story in the third person.

It took me 20 days to write it, non-stop.

At the end, I reread a few pages, but I didn't like it and I let it go.

Meanwhile, I realized I felt calmer,

as if the shame had passed from me into the notebook.

- Who is it? - It's Bianca.

Hi.

There's a boy waiting for you downstairs, I said I'd tell you.

- A boy? - Yes.

See you.

Pietro!

Elena! How are you?

Fine, thanks.

- You? - Fine.

My parents are here, I'd like you to meet them.

Would you like to come to lunch with us?

- I have to get changed. - You've got plenty of time.

Take your time, I'll wait here for you.

All right.

All right, thanks.

Mariarosa, dear daughter, I can't talk politics with you.

Because I'm a woman? Because I'm young?

Because you're full of prejudice

and prejudice doesn't allow you to think deeply.

I think if we listened a bit more to the young, it could be useful.

Adele, you always say what everyone is thinking.

Am I banal?

No, Mamma, you're not banal, you're sensitive.

You like everyone.

My family's favorite game is to gang up on me.

You won't admit that you're trapped by interclassism.

Professor Airota! How nice to see you.

Hello, my dear fellow.

Signora Adele, my respects.

Your son is doing himself proud in Pisa, but we knew he would.

Good morning, professor.

Good morning, professor.

Good morning.

The young lady is a very capable student of mine.

Good.

We won't keep you any longer, bon appétit.

- Bon appétit. - The same to you.

Who's that?

A professor of Latin literature, I think.

What were we saying?

You're anti-American.

And you, Dad? Are you socialist and pro-American?

That was Pietro's family,

they talked about everything, they argued, but politely.

They never said anything just for the sake of it,

they had big ideas, big, real passions.

I wasn't real.

I observed them stupefied by my own discomfort,

searching for something to say to make me seem intelligent,

like Mariarosa.

The Americans after Hiroshima should have been tried for crimes against humanity.

Bravo.

Congratulations! You and Mariarosa are two of a kind.

Cultured youth, rebellious young ladies...

The main thing is not to think of rebellion

as rebellion, as an act of opposition and that's all.

What are you doing, smoking?

A small act of opposition, every so often.

Papa, Elena's working on her thesis.

Pietro told me you're not even going home.

I'd like to do it in the next session.

- Can we do anything for her? - No, thank you, Dad.

Elena's done everything on her own

and she is very proud of it.

Bye, see you soon.

Bye, Elena.

- I'll be right there. - Goodbye.

Do you have to go, Pietro?

Did you enjoy yourself?

You swear?

Of course I enjoyed myself, you're a really wonderful family.

It's important for me.

Thank you again for bringing me.

Why don't you come to Turin with us?

- Grab some clothes, I'll wait here. - Are you crazy?

I've never liked anyone

as much as I like you.

I have to go.

I promise I'll be back soon.

Bye.

- I'll be back soon. - Yes.

I graduated at the end of July with the highest grades.

I avoided telling my parents,

fearing my mother would feel obliged to come.