Cetto C'è (Cetto c'è, senzadubbiamente)

Gentlemen, the wait is over.

The failure of the Republic is there for all to see.

<The country is in disarray.

<The time has never been more propitious to put a king back in command.

<We all agree on this.

The moment is right,

but the conflict over the lineage to the throne was never resolved .

- The protagonist is missing. - You're right, we don't have a king.

Who do we put?

<Venanzio, what do you think?

I say it's true.

You have to find the right man.

(SONG: "BUM BUM BUM" BY GUERRERA AND ALBANESE)

Now he's silent.

​​Applause!

For me? No, you're too kind.

For me, singing is a hobby, like shooting "in a different way".

Is everything okay in Germany? Is business going well? Are you happy?

It is a land of great opportunities,

Not like Italy, which has now become a hairless country.

As far as I'm concerned, I'm done with politics and with my country too.

I'm German, obviously. I'm Calabrian-German.

(In Germany my business is going as smoothly as a gunshot.)

(My restaurants are always full and no one asks for pineapple on pizza anymore.)

Hi, Cetto, how are you?

The orange and wine deliveries arrive tomorrow .

- Okay, thank you. "Goodbye". - "Goodbye."

Hello. Say hello to Petra.

How badly they speak, in my opinion they don't even understand each other.

It is true.

(Everyone here loves me, I'm the boss in town,)

(and Germany really welcomed me with open legs.)

Money flows around here and nobody asks where it comes from.

From where, not from where, it doesn't matter a damn thing.

Here the mafia is a mark of quality.

It's like Parmigiano Reggiano and "pilu". Right?

(Every now and then there are some problems with the tax authorities,)

Our cash movements

they aroused the suspicions of the inspector of the "Staatskasse Finanzamt".

The Tax Office.

It's one thing to launder money...

It's another thing to do it illegally.

"Keine schwarz", they get pissed off with black in Germany.

Because of racism?

Here I found home, family, and love, thanks to Petra, the "pilu" of my eyes.

Come on, tell our friends.

Yes, we have a very sweet and quiet little girl,

a real angel.

Hey, beautiful Daddy's Bowl!

Is it normal that he's always crying?

(Even my in-laws welcomed me with typical German affection.)

Do we have to come to your house every Sunday morning ?

I have the feeling they want to shoot me after coffee.

Don't talk nonsense. Hello, Dad.

(LOUD MUSIC: WAGNER'S "RIDE OF THE VALKYRIES")

Doesn't the music seem a little loud to you, Fosco? The music, the volume.

"Ach so", bella musica. Richard Wagner.

Don't you think it's a little too loud? The volume.

Isn't it loud? Some music.

"Ach so", beautiful music.

- Richard Wagner. - Yes.

Wagner.

I feel like your parents are kidding me.

For me they adore you.

A little wine, please.

("In short," I'm a satisfied man. In cash.)

(So, "so," long live Germany and screw Italy.)

Do you want to try to get her into bed, love?

Let's see.

But did you have it checked? Maybe it's just a screw.

- She's just sleepy, just put her to bed. - Yes.

Hold the pacifier. Hold it. Hold it, like this. Hold the pacifier.

Hello?

- Cetto. - Huh?

It's for you.

- From Italy, Comare Lina. - No, not Comare Lina.

Tell her I'm not here and you're not here either.

Call for Aunt Nunziata.

Second.

Yes, hello?

Don't tell me.

Is it that serious?

How much?

Both.

I'll be right there.

Right away, yes.

I arrive.

Aunt Nunziata is dying, we have to leave "immediately".

The first plane is tomorrow morning around 10, I'll check.

We can't wait.

He's dying "orally." I call Pino and we leave in the car. Right away.

- Petra, "hello". - "Hello".

Gunhild!

How are you?

- (in German) And the hair? - (in German) I don't know.

They won't let me enter the village as a blonde.

Don't worry, "as soon as" your aunt dies, we'll be back.

Hello, Pebble of my heart. Hello.

Bye, go.

Say hello to your parents.

- (in German) Hello! - (in German) Hello!

Oh, easy.

Come in.

The aunt?

- Is she still alive? - It's as God wills.

He's resting.

Forever?

No.

Hello. Hello, hello.

HI.

Petra. Pino. Wait here.

Come in.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God..."

"And blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus."

"Pray for us sinners..."

Come in.

"Amen."

Come in.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God,"

"pray for us sinners now and at the hour..."

I think she's still alive.

"Amen."

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners."

"now and at the hour of our death, amen."

Aunt.

- Cetto, come closer. - Yes.

I haven't seen you for two weeks.

Two weeks and five years to be precise.

Ah!

-Sit here. -Thank you.

- I have to tell you something very important. - Yes, aunt.

Before I die...

You must know the truth,

the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I swear.

My sister, your mother, was a skilled embroiderer.

He had hands of gold.

The malicious said: "Not just the hands."

"In fact" one evening 50 years ago, crossing the woods,

Your mother went to deliver some beautiful embroidered sheets

to the castle of the nobleman who had commissioned them.

Chance wanted

that it was not the servants who opened the castle door .

- It wasn't. - It wasn't.

- It wasn't. - No.

Who opened the door for you, aunt?

The prince himself.

Your mother delivered the embroidered sheets,

but the prince wanted to hold her back

to congratulate him on the excellent job he had done.

<He also offered her a small glass of Anisetta.

- Even two. Even three. - And they lived happily ever after.

Auntie, can we get to the point, please?

Let's try, let's tighten.

The prince said to her, "Your sheets are very beautiful,"

"but will they also be made of sturdy canvas?"

<At this point your mother felt hurt in her pride

and said: "Prince, thus you offend me."

The prince, then, did not let the opportunity slip away.

and asked her to test the sheets from the inside, both of them.

Try them from the inside.

Cetto, I know you don't like hearing these things about your mother.

She was a cheerful, fun woman, even between the sheets.

Do you want me to explain? Your mother was a slut.

Yes, aunt, please. Shall we get to the moral of this story?

It's getting dark, it's dark. It's getting dark.

- Cetto, you are a child of love. - Yes.

- But you're also the son of a prince. - But also the son of a "whore," if you like.

Rest in peace, it has passed.

Sorry, aunt.

My father was not a street vendor of bleach

who passed by every 15 days with the van and then disappeared?

No, that was a lie

that we used to say to a poor little boy who was always asking, "Who is my father?"

You could have invented a story that smelled better than bleach.

Every time I see a ladder being washed, I get emotional thinking about my father.

"The truth is, you're a prince." "Yes, of course. And you're Pocahontas."

<Hi, hi. Hi.

- So? How did you find it? - Bad.

He told me a story, it had never happened before.

Let's go find Melo in the "meanwhile",

I want to see my country again.

- "Meanwhile"? - Yes, it's Italian.

See, little by little, you're learning? Well done.

The Old Navy has now become the New Navy.

Apple tree! Apple tree! Mayor Meluzzo!

How the fuck do you get in? Melo!

​​Shitty doors.

But what kind of way is this? Do we want to put an end to this mess?

- We're looking for Melo, if you'll excuse me. - The mayor is working.

Thank you.

Cetto, it's you! I didn't recognize you!

Even I didn't recognize you dressed.

Do you always think? Do you practice?