The Voice of the Moon (La Voce della Luna)

THE VOICE OF THE MOON

Story and screenplay by FEDERICO FELLINI

Loosely based on the novel IL POEMA DEI LUNATICI

by ERMANNO CAVAZZONI

Script co-written by TULLIO PINELLI, ERMANNO CAVAZZONI

Musical commentary NICOLA PIOVANI

Director of photography TONINO DELLI COLLI

Production designer DANTE FERRETTI

Costume designer MAURIZIO MILLENOTTI

Salvini, Salvini, Salvini, Salvini...

Ivo Salvini.

Did you hear that, too? They called my name.

We're going to see some pussy. Pussy, pussy.

We're going to see some pussy. Pussy mussy, long live the pussy.

Pussy, mussy, long live the pussy.

Have you all paid? You haven't. Pay me for the previous time, too.

It's so hard it could bring down a wall.

- Does he want to come, too? - Yes, where are we going?

- Be quiet. - Open it a bit more.

No, she could see us.

Ah, there she is.

- Last time we saw more. - The curtains were more open.

What are you doing?

Why doesn't my wife have tits like that?

Give me the money. Come on.

- Why? - To see my aunt's tits.

I've got scissors. I'll cut you open.

- You still owe me from last time. - Be careful.

Come here. My legs are longer than yours.

- Stop him. - Let me go.

He didn't do anything.

I can't give him money, I haven't got any.

Juno, Jupiter's wife, had two big tits like that lady.

Do you know that story when she fell asleep under a tree?

With her breasts nude. And little Hercules was there.

He sees her big tits and he begins to suck and suck...

- What are you doing? - You think you're smart? Pay up.

As I was saying... all at once Juno woke up.

All the milk squirted up all over the sky.

That's how the Milky Way was born.

Now she stopped undressing. Well done.

- I bet you did well at school. - Yes, I was promising.

You bunch of drunk bums!

Go away, there are people here who want to sleep.

- If only Ottavio was here, he'd show you. - I am here, Auntie.

How lovely to have a nephew like you.

Goodbye.

Have a good night.

- Can you walk? - I'm fine.

I haven't seen my friend Salvini in a while.

- I'll come with you. - Yes, Mr. Pigafetta. Certainly.

Never a quiet moment around here.

My aunt wasn't like that. She was very skinny.

She used to comb my hair when I didn't expect it.

And she always wanted to know if I had defecated or not.

What were you doing here at this hour?

Are you doing it again?

No, I swear.

Believe me, I do try to resist.

When I close my ears, I hear them even more.

Last night was the first time that well called me.

"We have to tell you something very important."

Don't listen to the wells, they are traitors.

They make you dream nice dreams, but also ugly ones.

They should be closed at night.

- But then I... - Stay away from those wells.

- I don't want you to see it. - I have to do my job.

I have to talk to you. Watch out.

It's full of potholes here. Let me help you.

- Lady Gertrude, can I help you? - It's you, Pigafetta.

I'm late, they insisted I make stuffed zucchinis.

It took a lot of time to get them right.

You go ahead, I'll come in a while, pretending to be just passing by.

Fine.

Angelino, I'm going in. Or it'll go off.

Of course. You're nervous tonight.

- Angelino, how are things? - Fine.

Let's go for a walk. Come in, then.

You're getting bigger. Many people come here.

- Nobody wants to leave. - That reminds me, Mr. Pigafetta.

I have to tell the mayor about all this. You can't just do as you please.

You're just a gravedigger. What were you thinking?

The professor asked me to help him. He's a friend.

Is it a problem if he wants to sleep here?

- Prices are so high nowadays. - Exactly.

- Right. - I didn't bring him here. He followed me.

Who is the other guy?

He's with me, don't worry.

Well, speak up. Can you still hear it?

I sleep at night.

I just have two questions to ask you,

so I can make a good impression on my boss.

There are no questions, and there are even less answers.

- He'll only say I'm crazy. - But you are.

He got a degree at the conservatory.

He became a professor, and look where he is now.

My father saw right through him. "Don't marry him," he said.

Even in church he signaled to me, "Run while you still can."

But I was enchanted by his music.

Oh, yes, we keep on saying these silly things.

But music should be forbidden by law.

It's invasive.

Excuse me, but did your instrument show its aggression?

Tell him. He says his oboe moved his furniture.

Certain notes, a triplet of semiquavers, "sol la do mi".

In the Middle Ages, that combination was called Diavolus.

Think of a lizard that runs from your coccyx to your neck.

That night, at my place... Do you remember, Gertrude?

We were doing a concert at the Teatro Comunale.

I was going over my notes. And there they were, those four notes.

- Gertrude. - What?

It moved, just now.

Am I crazy?

- Am I seeing things? - Yes.

- Did you not see who was in the kitchen? - Please tell me, who was it?

One night, I was rehearsing...

What are you doing here?

Who are you?

I am the big eater.

I eat everything.

He ate everything.

Then, one night, they showed up at my house.

The ringleaders.

Gentlemen, what an honor.

Thank you.

I was rehearsing.

There's this passage, this infernal interval.

It should be forbidden to write certain chords.

Don't tell me you don't know which ones.

The phantoms enter exactly in those pauses, those intervals.

The dark, the cold.

The music then does with you as it pleases.

How can you defend yourself from something that never keeps its promises?

Tell me, what did it promise you?

The same things it promises to everybody. Joy, serenity.

Oblivion.

And that we'd all be happy and accepted. Including me.

But that's not true.

Gertrude.

It's gone.

But some nights, when the Moon is full, even down there, deep in the earth,

it keeps on playing, and I can still hear it.

It won't come. It's too late, it won't come tonight. It's too humid.

Here is my grandad.

Up there.

Always the same question.

How is it possible that nobody knows anything about you anymore?

Yes, you are all dead, I know. You did well.

Very well even, it can't be easy. I never managed.

I can't even imagine how you do that.

But afterwards we can't meet anymore. We shouldn't, right?

But where are you all?

Sometimes I think, "There must be a place in the world

"where there's a hole, an opening, to the other side?"

I'm here, you see?

- The raven doesn't betray. - Where have you been?

Now the heel of my shoe has broken. I'm so tired.

Tomorrow evening, I'll make mashed potatoes. Good night.

It's raining.

That's how I imagined God the Father in a coach.

Like my granny said when it was thundering. It's so beautiful.

Already when I was a child, I loved the thunder.

I didn't hear my granny calling me, "Pinocchino."

Pinocchino!

Pinocchino, come inside!

Get under my skirt.

Now you're burning your shoes, too.

You're becoming more and more like Pinocchio.

- Pinocchio didn't have a real dad. - No.

Neither do I. Is it obligatory to have one?

But you did have one, my poor boy.

Yes, I know.

I did have a dad.

Granny, I didn't see Daddy on the coach of God the Father. Mommy neither.

He can't only carry those two around. There are other people, too.

- There are so many. - So that's why.

Have you finished your milk?

Let's go to bed.

Is the Moon coming later tonight?

- I became a poplar tree this morning. - Well done, what a good result.

Let me tell you how. It's not hard to become one.

It happened very naturally. I sat down next to one and said,

"How are you?" It made me feel it.

My feet sank into the earth, and my toes grew like roots, all around.

All at once, I had 4, 10, 100 arms.

I felt a fresh air in my hair. A clean wind. I breathed with my leaves.

My hair had turned into a million leaves.

I was in heaven, it was very high.

The farmhouse had become very small.

I saw you, in the farmyard. You were so small.

I called you, I was calling you, "Granny, granny."

Come down now, even poplar trees have to go to bed.

- Did you not hear me call you? - Come, Pinocchino.

I have to check under the bed first.

There's nothing there. It's getting cold, come back.

But it's beautiful here and there are so many things.

Just look at the fire.

Where do all those sparks go? Where does the fire go when it goes out?

It's just like music. Nobody knows where it goes when it ends.

I always get so many ideas here in bed.