-- SECRET FANTASY --
It's a kind of sonata, modern, atonal, dissonant.
It starts with an allegretto.
I worked on the score.
I know you are the top of the class.
Good morning, gentlemen. Today, the first reading.
I hope you took a few hours of your precious time...
...to work on this at home.
This is a new work and it requires your attention.
First things first:
The dynamics are noted in the score. Cellos!
Your attack must be decisive.
It must contrast with the impetuosity of the brasses...
...and generate a background, discreet, but present. See?
Give life to this work!
Gentlemen, thanks to you...
...we are no longer in the Arena of Verona.
Instead, we are in the Theater of Flavius... also known as the urinal!
I salute you!
Such sensitivity...
- Smoke? - Yes, thank you.
Cavalmoretti, you didn't light mine.
Sorry, I didn't see you.
But I just gave you a cigarette.
Big whoopie. Such a fuss over a silly cigarette!
Go ahead, smoke, smoke.
What a clown, that one ...
He's obsessed with the cellos.
Remember when we rehearsed "Mephistopheles?"
He said: "Airy, cellos, airy ..."
"If you do not have air..."
"...get out or hide."
He said that especially for me.
No, he said that to me.
You weren't there.
What do you mean, I wasn't there?
- Don't you remember? - You were not there!
My name is Niccolo Vivaldi, I am a musician and married.
I earn my living but I'm not happy.
People do not remember me.
To some, I was introduced ten or twenty times.
I remember them very well...
...but they don't remember me.
Yet I have an extraordinary mind...
...a strong musical personality and character.
I'm no loser.
My father, a violin-maker, named me Niccolo...
...because he wanted me to become a great violinist. He entrusted me to a teacher.
It was a disaster.
"Ass! Fool! Parasite!"
"You are not made for the violin!"
"If you want to be a musician, go ring bells."
"Yes, the bells! That's also a stringed instrument."
I changed teachers and instruments.
I felt better with the cello...
...in part because I had long arms.
"That's it. All right."
"If the fifth, beautiful!"
"Okay, this air from 'The Thieving Magpie'."
"You're a sensitive boy and intelligent. You'll see."
"I tell you that you will succeed."
My good friends, keep this in mind:
you are professionals, poorly paid, of course...
...but nevertheless, more than you deserve.
So please do me the favor of paying attention to me!
Now let's get started!
Mr. Cavalmoretti, did you sleep well?
Just fine, Maestro, but that wasn't me.
Was it you, Mr. Mazzacurati?
I'd rather not intervene.
And the middle...yes, you, yes!
The one at the bottom. What's your name?
- Vivaldi. - Huh?
- Vivaldi. - Oh, come on ... Vivaldi?
Would you perchance be a distant relative of Antonio Vivaldi?
No, not the same family.
That's just as well. Have you ever played for me before?
Maestro, I've been playing for you for ten years.
I never noticed.
All right, let's go back to the beginning.
And you, pay attention. Beast!
The cellos always enter late!
You're the one who's late, Frescobaldi!
Will you please answer, Frescobaldi?
My name's Vivaldi.
Okay. Let's start again.
And pay attention, Frescobaldi!
Hey, come over here for a second...
...and I'll show you that you weren't there.
Sure I was there.
Where? Where?
Right there. That's me, there, next to you.
That idiot timpanist...
...put that damned cymbal right in front of my face.
- Bye! - Bye!
Looking back...
...I realize that I should protest...
...insist that they do the photo over again.
In life, I should not let them get away with it.
Here you see my head, because I pasted it there.
It bothered me that my wife should see me beheaded...
...and because it happened to me...
...at a time when I was restless and uneasy.
The doctor told me I was a little depressed...
...and, as a friend, he advised me not to spend my money...
...visiting him every week...
...to talk about what was going on in my head.
Instead, he advised me to keep a journal.
There I should accurately record everything that happens to me...
...everything I think and feel, even my dreams.
Niccolo!
It's time to eat. I made you a good polenta.
Hurry, it will get cold.
Tonight we eat polenta...
...as usual, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.
Unfortunately, Costanza makes it very badly. It has no taste.
Even today, the maestro remembered everyone else's names but mine.
He still called me Frescobaldi.
You, Sir, where are you going?
Ben, I'm going home.
Please excuse me, Mr. Vivaldi. I didn't recognize you.
Go ahead, go ahead ...
My doctor friend told me these events...
...these incidents are just slips of the tongue, or missteps...
...essentially, insignificant things. We shouldn't make too much of them.
But nobody recognizes me, and that makes me feel bad.
Very, very bad.
If I am depressed...
...unquestionably, that's the reason why.
Hey! Hey! Wait! Open up!
These are little things.
What conceivable reason could there be for this driver to keep me off the bus?
It should not bother me. All these things are pure coincidence.
I have to close. Is everyone out?
Yes, all.
- No one else? - No one!
There were other embarrassing incidents...
...that could happen to anyone.
My wife is expecting. Maybe it's already happened.
You should have thought of that before.
Call the guard!
I'm still locked up!
Deliver me!
Sometimes a freak incident can take you by surprise.
Why get all neurotic about it? It can happen to anyone.
On my wedding day with Costanza...
...I confess that I freaked out.
It was rather funny, actually...
Wait!
Stop! You forgot my husband!
- Excuse me. - Excuse me, my ass!
Distraction is one thing.
You can't blame someone for being distracted...
...but when you're the joke's on you, that's something else.
Even then, that doesn't necessarily mean it's malicious...
...or because you are considered stupid, or worthless.
Let's get started. Cellos, violins, as I said.
Let's go.
You there, in the middle!
What are you doing?
Have you lost your mind? What's your name?
Niccolo Vivaldi.
Fine coupling of names. You know the scherzo?
Yes, Maestro, I know it very well.
From the top. Cellos, listen up!
Mazzacurati and Cavalmoretti, just you two. That will be an improvement.
You do not play.
Yes, you! What did you say your name was?
- My name is Niccolo Vivaldi. - Exactly.
Do not play. Do not enter as pizzicato. Do not enter at all.
Let's go!
They'd never have played such a joke on the first cello...
...or someone else who matters. They would never do a thing like that.
What are you thinking?
Nothing, nothing at all.
The doctor said with this board...
...my spine wouldn't get so sore.
He also wants me to get mud baths in Salsomaggiore...
...to help get rid of the arthritis. When are you taking me, Niccolo?
First we have make sure insurance will cover it.
You know how much it costs. A cure ...
Say, Costanza.
- Are you happy with me? - What a strange question ...
- You would marry me again? - Of course.
But what for? We are already married!
How do I look? How you see me?
How do I make you feel? Tell me a little about myself.
You ask these questions, Niccolo ...
I don't know about myself. I am a bit ignorant.
I am not educated like you.
I'm not smart like you.
I am intelligent, am I?
Of course, and also, you're an artist.
And you're also...
...a very handsome man.
The first time I saw you...
...you made such an impression on me.
Do you remember, Niccolo?
CONTEST BIRD SONGS
The song of the nightingale and the canary...
...in early fall.
I always participated.
I never won, but I tried.
The male blackbird in the woods...
...his love song.
What an extraordinary artist! Not to mention very handsome!
I would love to meet him.
You like that kind? He's very ordinary.
Are you kidding? He's distinguished!
You talk about me, your sister and you?
What does she think of me? How does she see me?
She says you're not gorgeous, but you're nice...
...and funny.
What do you mean, funny?
For us, it's what you might call amusing.
Say, do something nice for me, Niccolo.
When we first met, you made me love the blackbird.
I loved it so much. Will you make me love it again?
Please, it's late; it is almost midnight.
I beg you, Niccolo.
Do it for me again.
You're such a little girl. Please...
You know nobody can do it as well as you.
Okay.
My God it's beautiful...
...when you do the blackbird, it makes me all ...
I want to make love.
It's been so long ...
No, tomorrow we must get up early.
Why?
Can't you remember anything?
We have to go to the insurance agency, remember?
Put the date there.
- Are you finished? - Almost.
- Your husband's full name? - Yes.
- You are married, aren't you? - Of course. This is my husband, right here.
Oh...Suddenly I've gotten a touch of amnesia!
- So? - Blessed Virgin!
I forgot your name! It's on the tip of my tongue.
My name is Vivaldi. Niccolo Vivaldi.
What an airhead! To forget the name of my husband ...
Calm down, Niccolo, calm down. Reason it out, and don't give yourself complexes.
Costanza just had a memory lapse.
It's okay, nothing to worry about.
We all have memory lapses.
You mustn't catastrophize. Calm down!
The key is to dedicate oneself to one's work.
I want to be remembered --me, Niccolo Vivaldi--
as a good cellist.
Just the first ten measures, right?
Oh, sorry.
Great!
Finally! For once, the cellos get it right!
That is the truth: My cello...
...may play, or not play...
...it makes no difference. Nobody notices.
I deceived myself in the choice of instrument.
The cello only accompanies. It never has the lead.
It is only used to furnish and enhance the basses.
No... The doctor very properly instructed me to write down the truth, precisely.
There is Pablo Casals.
There are sonatas for cello, with piano accompaniment...
...pieces for solo cello.
It is I who am insignificant...
...not the cello.
I'm not really sure whether or not it's a good idea to write this down...
...but my teacher at the Conservatory...
...once wrote to my father to say that I had talent.
I kept the letter.
Niccolo, What are you doing? The polenta is getting cold.
Costanza!
Where did you put the cello?
Me? No.
- So where is it? - I don't know.
Where could I have put it?
Come and eat now. You can look later.
No! Where could I have put it?
In the office?
It's not there. You're talking about ...
What was I saying? There is no ...
This is not possible!
In the bathroom?
Why do you think I should have put it in the bathroom?
Sometimes you practice sitting on the toilet.
And I'm always in the bathroom, according to you, right?
- Costanza? - Yes?
I understand everything now.
It's him. It was he who went into hiding.
- He, who? - The cello.
- Are you crazy? - It is the truth.
It is ashamed of me.
It hates me because...
...it's sick of merely accompanying and reinforcing the basses.
With someone else playing it, it was the soloist. Cello is a trademark.
Are you sure you feel well?
- Yes. - Because you sound like a madman.
You put it here to fetch your key, and you forgot.
No, no.
It is he who wants to leave me.
Now I understand.
Can you imagine? One day, he softly slipped by...
He took the bus alone.
Why don't I make you something to eat that you really like?
Cod? Like at home, in Vicenza.
It's been a week since you've said anything, since you've eaten...
...since you've laughed, since you've listened to me.
All that time you've been sleeping.
I see, but I cannot understand.
And when you sleep, you dream. You have nightmares.
I wish I knew what you dream.
You want to try to sleep? I'll turn out the light.
The dream is always the same.
In a concert, I am finally the first solo cello.
Are you ready?
You have to play this song very softly. Pianissimo.
I said, softly, not silently! I can't hear a thing!
None of this is true. It's a dream.
I want to wake up!
I want to wake up! Enough!
You've got nothing to worry about.
The dream of the mute cello is trivial, and classic.
Freud and Jung could have explained it very well.
You have what is called a complex.
You feel inferior to others.
It's all simply because you're too sensitive.
We'll have to set you free of your inferiority complex ...
...musically.
Maybe you see yourself as a faceless cellist. That doesn't mean you're sick.
A Casals or Amfiteatrov isn't born every day.
Maybe I was wrong to advise you to keep a journal.
You focus too much on the details.
These symptoms just don't add up.
Those people who don't recognize you...
...who close the door of the bus...
...or who don't light your cigarette ... all that's really unimportant.
You must not worry about it.
You don't have much personality; so what?
As soon as you can, take a little vacation. It will help. You'll see.
Yesterday, they gave the orchestra a little break.
Rehearsals resume in a week.
I took the opportunity to take Costanza to Salsomaggiore.
And while she's taking her mud baths...
...I'll be able to relax my nerves a little.
Costanza!
Hey! Costanza!
When she was just getting started with her treatments, Costanza had a lot of visits.
I attended the first one, but She was embarrassed.
Sit up.
Niccolo, don't stare at me. Turn around.
Now bend forward ten times.
That's good. You can get dressed.
It affected me strangely.
It certainly wasn't the first time I'd seen her breasts...
...but now I found it more...exciting.
I think that even the doctor took pleasure seeing her undressed.
Or perhaps I'm just getting ideas.
Getting undressed during an exam like this is normal, and yet she may be shy.
Anyway, even though nothing is being hidden from them...
...she nonetheless asked me not to go with her to her appointments any more.
Especially this one.
The bra also. First we'll examine your breasts.
Does it hurt when I touch there?
There's a little glandular inflammation, but that's normal.
You'll have to take off everything, including your underwear.
They always undress...
...and the doctors don't pretend they're not touching.
But then, Costanza...
...nude ... is something else.
It is provocative; that is the word.
That is why they undress her.
Dressed, that's nothing extraordinary.
...nude...
Give me the robe.
Lower your arms.
Don't move.
Get down.
Come here, now.
Lower your arms.
Does it hurt here?
- Or there? - No.
- And there? - There, that hurts.
Today I felt...
...a strange feeling, quite unexpected.
To see my wife naked before a stranger...
...gave me pleasure. I was even excited.
Sir!
You can't go in there.
Have you seen that piece of womanhood, eh?
She has boobs ... like my nurse.
- That's one beautiful woman! - Damn! ...
Sunday, Cesena plays in Mestre.
If we lose this match, there's division C afterward.
There's the ugly husband.
Ugly but damn lucky to have a woman with tits like that one.
He is lucky indeed.
Oh yes, I like it that Costanza arouses desire.
I love it that they envy me.
When you think that dressed, she's not nearly as special ...
When will my wife be finished with her mud bath?
In about half an hour. Light?
Yes.
Thank you.
It's true. When she is naked, she is something else.
I had a wonderful dream. I think the nightmares might be over.
Let's go. Slowly, the cellos.
I want to just hear them...
...to enhance the bass.
I do not want to hear anything but the first cello.
Are you ready?
Bravo!
Extraordinary!
Your coffee, Niccolo.
Too bad the mud baths are over.
Costanza is once again the model housewife.
What a shame...
Costanza...?
Did you know you're a superb...wife?
Blessed Virgin! What's going on with you?
- Oh, nothing, nothing ... - Niccolo!
Now just the wind instruments.
What an ass!
Don't you ever think of anything else?
Never. Why should I want to think of anything else?
Now this instrument always makes me think about it.
Just take a look at that ass.
That is a divine body, like a viola!
It's Bach!
Look at these poses! Look at that concert!
That's a real festival.
Here she shows you her mandolin,
Here, the bassoon...
...and contrabassoon.
Here, review your score a little.
- Excuse me ... - Huh?
- Take off your clothes here. - Why?
Well, I am your husband, right?
I want you to undress ...very slowly.
I want to look at you.
When you're naked, lie down on the carpet...
- ...and I'll look at you. - You're crazy!
I knew it!
We can never do anything.
Fuck!
You could at least knock before you come out!
Tomorrow, when I get up...
...I must remember this dream, at all costs...
...and ask the doctor what it means.
Look, Doctor: There's the husband.
Whose husband?
The husband of the cello and the lady.
What a slob! I prefer the cello a thousand times over.
Yes, Costanza is better.
Costanza is much better.
Better than the cello.
What's going on? What are you dreaming?
Nothing, Costanza. Sleep, sleep ...
Good night.
I am worried, Doctor.
He's there watching me from the keyhole when I'm at the W.C.
He wants me to do a strip-tease.
He wants me to lie down naked on the carpet. And his dreams ...
He takes me for a cello. It's not normal.
No, no, Costanza. They usually become depressed or aggressive.
- Who? - The frustrated.
Blessed Virgin! Just what "frustrated" are you talking about?
It's a bit long to explain, but nothing serious.
I can count on you to keep me informed.
Come and tell me if there are more weird things.
Like, even more weird than they are already?
For now, it is like a transfer.
- Blessed Virgin, is that serious? - No, it's perfectly normal.
Niccolo subconsciously identifies his cello with his wife...
...the very things he holds most dear, and sometimes he confuses them.
Well, I hope he doesn't confuse them when we make love...
...or we could get hurt by all those strings.
Costanza is very weird at the moment.
She is nervous.
I noticed her watching me. I get the feeling she's spying on me.
She doesn't look well. Perhaps if I took her to my shrink ...
I am nice to her.
On Sundays I eat at her parents' home in Sacile.
It's not something I exactly look forward to.
I do it for her.
My father-in-law has an aviary.
He tells me the life, death and mystery of love birds.
Come, I need to show you something.
You see...
...Camillina, the lark with green feathers.
She goes by the blackbird.
And at night, when the robin sleeps...
...she gets fucked by Garibaldi.
- Which is, Garibaldi? - That one...
...with the red throat.
He's a great troubador, but now he has nothing to sing.
But Camillina gets paid, that bitch.
- In cash? - Niccolo...
...don't be silly! You think that birds have money?
How, then?
He brings thirty grains of millet to that cow.
Costanza...
...I brought French champagne.
Let's make peace, shall we?
Okay, but you'd better stop with those quirks of yours.
The call of the blackbird male.
- Peace? - Okay.
Do you think the French champagne will go with polenta?
- Yes. - I prefer lemonade.
The champagne is better.
Tonight, champagne!
Do you hear, Costanza? Champagne tonight!
"...4 tablets for sound sleep..."
And the French champagne!
- Splendid, Niccolo! - It's better than lemonade.
No, this one is yours.
To life!
Do you remember our wedding night?
What you made me eat!*
Instead of what we had to do...
...we sang all night.
Yes, I remember. Want to do it again? Come on!
"If the sea was the sauce..."
"...and the mountain of polenta..."
Can't make you shut up.
I was drunk. Three liters of Grignolino.
Even then you played that cello to make me laugh.
Wait.
Polenta and cod ...
That's it. Are you ready? Here we go!
"If the sea was the sauce..."
"...and the mountain of polenta..."
We had to put everything off until the next night.
Oh, Mama, what a feast!
Oh, Mama, what...a feast!
Costanza ...
- I like it when we make peace. - Me too, Niccolo.
Okay, now I'm going make myself beautiful for the night.
Wait for me.
Polenta and cod ...
An idea came to me. Hosle, the Dortmund Philharmonic...
...on the occasion of the week of the Italo-German friendship.
I never would have thought...
You know what this is?
No, what is it?
It is...?
Very convenient. You take a picture...
- ...and it develops itself. - Really?
You can shoot a nude woman. You keep it...
...and when you're old, you can still look at her, no?
Costanza? Costanza...?
Costanza...?
- What was that, Niccolo? - Nothing.
Just the storm. Sleep. Just lightning.
Niccolo: What is this?
What is what?
Oh...it's you.
Me? How do you explain this? Who took these pictures?
Me, yesterday while you were asleep.
Don't be angry with me. It's difficult to explain.
It's trivial, but complicated.
For me too, it was a shock.
I could not help myself.
It was like a violent impulse.
Be calm, please don't get excited, and I'll tell you why I did it.
Because you're a pig!
I am not a pig. I am not a pig! Costanza! Costanza!
- Where you going? You're crazy! - I going back to my mother!
You're a... How can I say it? A perverted...
A sex maniac! A Satyricon!
What are you talking about? Let me explain.
- Wait, hear me! - I'm going back to my mother.
You're a rogue. I married a sex maniac, a pig...
...a degenerate, a vicious... werewolf ...
Shhh! They'll hear you.
I hope she hasn't told her parents about all this.
Imagine if she told them. Scandal, tragedy ...
They have a mentality of peasants. They'll take me for a pervert.
They may even reject me.
But what's gotten into me?
With the ass in the foreground?
Can I see these photos? Just a glance.
Stop it, Dad! You know that's wrong.
Ah, but such a fantasy, Niccolo!
It's starting to irritate me.
Who are they, these bumpkins, these rednecks?
They are not outraged. They think it's normal.
What's to worry about, my little girl?
He's your husband!
He has every right to enjoy his wife's ass...
...for real, or in a photo.
What is this camera that does everything?
A Polaroid.
Twenty gods! In my time, it existed, all deviltry.
We kissed, that's all.
- Too bad. - Why "too bad?"
Yes, because a little compulsion...
...a little bit of lust, a little depravity, now and then...
...doesn't hurt.
It can even be pretty good!
- Mama, what are you saying? - What, you're complaining?
You had the luck. Unfortunately...
...I lived in the country.
You know, the sex...
...some fantasy and some variety. It was nice...
...otherwise it is always the same soup.
Sometimes it's necessary to add a little spice.
No need to explain. That's something I know very well.
Well, well...Here's Niccolo.
Could you take some pictures of me too?
- Niccolo? - Eh?
Where are they?
The photos, what have you done with them?
I have ...
I have destroyed them.
Are you sure?
I told you so, didn't I?
Tonight could be the chance of a lifetime.
We're going on stage, and now, suddenly, we're missing...
...the first and second cello.
One has a fever of 42, and the other has mumps.
This is unheard of! We have to cancel the performance!
No, you're crazy!
Find another cellist. You have one half-hour to rehearse.
Easy for you to say. I'm not accustomed to these schemes.
The first cello in "Tosca"
has a very important and famous solo.
They usually bring in a soloist from Rome.
He plays his solo and leaves.
I play very well. This time may be my big chance!
Well, then, do the audition.
But I'm not coming back here.
I hope so...
- Who's next? - I am.
You.
Me? Or him?
This is the first time I ever considered suicide.
I don't like it...
...but I feel I have no alternative.
I am a failure now...
...and I have no place in this world.
Of course, you--you must go with me.
Cavalmoretti?
What are you doing here?
You look like a funeral.
- How does it feel? - What? - To be a soloist?
It's beautiful, it's gratifying, it's moving, but ...
But what?
But tomorrow it's all over. The soloist arrives from Rome.
I was the soloist for the evening, that's all.
Tomorrow I will once again become the usual idiot.
In this world, there are those who get the breaks...
...and those who are stuck at the bottom. And we, we are at the bottom.
In any case, we all end up dying.
Beethoven died, Bach died, Toscanini died ...
- May they rest in peace. - I am unhappy.
And you want to talk?
Listen. Misfortune? It's like money.
When we have it, we hold fast to it.
I have an idea.
Go for a drink?
Come on, we'll drown better in the wine.
Life is a melancholy celebration.
I knew you were a friend.
Hi, Cavalmoretti.
I'm going home.
By now my wife must have sent her boyfriend.
You're a cuckold, but you're punctual.
My poor friend...
...my dear friend, if all the cuckolds in the world carried a lantern...
...the light would be blinding.
For me, that one knows how to live.
He must be a philosopher.
Listen.
You can believe me.
It is always the last drink that makes you drunk.
What is your name?
I am in a fog.
My name is Niccolo.
That's it. Listen.
Believe me.
Don't waste your time worrying. It's not worth the trouble.
You know ...
I wanted to take up the violin...
...but I contented myself with the cello...
...thinking that perhaps I might become a...
...soloist.
Or, I don't know, perhaps one day...
...perhaps a conductor...
...like so many others.
Like few others, you mean...
...very few.
You're right.
I also studied composition.
But I never tried composing.
To compose, that is the most beautiful thing in the world.
I never even managed to write a little song.
That's life.
I want to show you something.
You alone.
Look, but discreetly.
Damn! Who is she?
Someone.
- Someone you know? - You could say that, yes.
This is one of those asses ...
That's true.
- She's a real tiger. - That's true too.
We do not see places like this on TV.
Although she does have something like the look of a whore.
- She is beautiful, eh? - And how!
You like her?
Oh, don't tell me that you are...
Yes! Exactly.
And how does it feel?
To do what?
In unite carnally with such a creature?
It's beautiful. It's very beautiful.
Trust me.
Better even than playing the cello. What an instrument!
I'll tell you something.
Tell me.
I...you know...I did not think you...
I took you for a poor boy...
...an idiot.
Well, no.
A guy who rides a rump like that...
...is a lord, not an idiot.
Yes ...
She is mine.
"Me, you know ... I took you for a poor man..."
"...an idiot."
"Better to play with her than a cello."
"Damn! She's a real tigress!"
Blessed Virgin!
I look like the girls from the magazine.
I look like a whore!
Did you take them?
Why? You said you had torn them up!
Why do you answer a question with another question?
And why do you answer a question with a lie?
We're not going to get anywhere if you keep asking questions...
...and not answering any.
Now, did you take them?
There!
- I really look like a ...? - Yes.
What's going on? Niccolo? What are you doing?
Tigress! Tigress!
Niccolo...!
You're a tiger!
A real tigress!
I don't know why I haven't gotten sick after a week.
I've made love with my wife so many times...
...several times a day.
Today, as you can see by the red dots, seven times.
Yesterday, and the day before yesterday, even more...
Even Costanza was surprised by my fiery passion...
...and stamina.
"Blessed Virgin!"
"You go from one extreme to another. Be careful you don't die of apoplexy."
I discovered a new Costanza.
She awakened me, physically and psychologically.
I did well to show Cavalmoretti the photos.
For the first time in my life I felt admired...
...and even envied.
Today is a great day.
I persuaded Costanza to pose for more photos.
- For you. - What?
- Flowers. - You never offered me flowers before.
You've got something up your sleeve! Just what do you have in mind for me?
Don't move!
Photographing my wife naked gives me great pleasure.
Life seems less empty, less dull, more exciting.
More smiling, you've gotta ... that's it.
Perfect! Don't move!
Not like that. Voluptuous! Sensual, lascivious.
You must be lascivious.
Shit, the flash hasn't recharged!
Okay, great, don't move!
- Niccolo! - Eh?
So far I've done what you wanted, but ...
Normally, the camera needs someone to operate it.
But with this automatic timer it can take pictures of both of us.
- I want to be with you. - Okay...
...but make it a picture of us hand in hand...
...or when we kiss...
...but not when we make love. That would be nasty.
No, it's beautiful!
The love between a man and his wife, that's dirty? On the contrary!
For two people who love each other...
...there is nothing more beautiful.
- Are you ready? I can start the timer? - Yes.
Ha! Big guy! You didn't even give yourself time to get your pants off!
- You look finished. - I've taken my clothes off before.
Reset...
Well, this one's shot to hell. So long...
- Ready? - Yes.
But you're not ready. You look kind of depressed.
Caress my chest.
- Go ahead, caress my chest, I beg you. - Niccolo!
- Niccolo ... - Go ahead, Costanza.
I'm ready.
That's it.
But what's the point of all this, Niccolo?
I'm sorry, but it makes me want..,
- ...to make love. - Oh no, that's enough for now!
Now let's just get some sleep. You need to calm down a little.
You know, all this is having a rather strange effect on me...
...as if we were making love, and someone was watching us...
These days, I have very pleasant dreams.
I dream of what Costanza said...
"All this is having a rather strange effect on me..."
"...as if we were making love, and someone was watching us..."
Hey, Vivaldi!
Niccolo, the world is watching!
Yes! You see, it's a great honor.
The maestro came here, just to direct our embrace.
He doesn't do that for just anyone.
Look, there's even a first cello!
Verve, panache!
Yes, Niccolo! You're right!
More gently!
Stroking, caressing ...
Good, very good.
Now pizzicato!
Now, crescendo!
- A big snake 3 letters. - Boa.
- From Sofia to Trieste. - Bora.
I say, you're damn good with crosswords.
Look.
Damn! A picture of the melée.
- And it's really you? - Of course.
Hot damn! She has an ass so round...
...rounder than a round watermelon. You lucky bastard!
Maybe you're not such a great cellist...
...but a piper ...
I could not play such a sonatina?
You're a marmoset.
It's the cellos' turn.
You there, in the middle!
You're supposed to be an octave lower!
Maestro, I play it the way Verdi wrote it. See?
Did you see that? Knocked him dead!
Right now, I feel different. Stronger. Maybe even superior.
Listen, you're the only one who knows this.
I've decided to create my own compositions.
It's decided. I want to try to write a lyric opera.
I feel like this is the way for me.
Second week of work.
I can't let it discourage me. An opera, that takes time.
I still haven't found the subject that inspires me.
But I trust that I will...
...for I am in great shape now. I'm accomplishing a lot of things.
I've left the arena, and now I compose...
...all the while inventing new games for photographing Costanza...
...which invariably end...
...with delicious hugs, and more, more of love with my wife.
Blessed Virgin!
You're becoming more and more corrupted and complicated, Niccolo.
You're getting to be a real pervert.
When did you meet?
Huh...?
I told you to pretend that you had slept together.
Okay. Just don't get so steamed up.
Let's go over this again. Don't be so stupid.
When did you meet?
Ah yes! One day I followed him to the arena.
He saw me and followed me into the street.
And he decided to approach me.
What did he say?
He said:
"Madam, I am the director of the Arena of Verona."
"May we go to your home?"
- "I must speak." - And you let him?
What did he want?
He said he was crazy about me...
...and he would prefer a thousand times to be a cellist...
...if it meant having a woman like me.
- You told him I was writing an opera? - Yes.
What next? Costanza, confess. I want to know everything.
Then suddenly, he got naked...
...and we were left to our instincts.
I can't leave you alone for five minutes!
But you're mine, mine alone!
I know that others will want you, but you are mine!
You are mine, Costanza. You belong to me, you understand?
I still have not found the subject of my opera...
...so I stay locked up in my office...
...in total darkness.
The birds become blind if they are locked in the dark.
I hope I'll go blind.
I remembered that apart from birds...
...blind singers and musicians are especially sensitive.
- I see nothing at all. - I told you.
He barricaded himself in the dark...
...and has provisions for a month.
Costanza, you need to find another doctor, a psychiatrist.
Niccolo gives me more trouble than all my other patients combined.
Look, Doctor, this is what I was talking about.
Yes, I understand.
It is quite clear.
Imagine that the head conductor is bent on...
...fornicating with you. This is his revenge on him.
It is as if invented another life for himself...
...exciting, thrilling, adventurous, passionate...
...with people falling in love with you and your betrayal.
It's no longer a dull life, insignificant, mediocre ...
Wait, doctor.
This is the journal I told you about.
I see ...
He likes to photograph you nude.
Why, he even showed your photos to other men...
...because he wants them to know...
...he has a wife ... how should you say it? Erotic.
You see, self-esteem, the pride of a man...
...has a great deal to do with his sexuality.
In the words of W. Reich, the great psychoanalyst...
"A man frustrated with life seeks his revenge in sex."
This week has been good.
I am not blinded, but thinking in the dark.
It's funny, but I had a flash of brilliance.
I will write an opera based on the songs of birds...
...or rather of the melodies that birds create.
Allegro con brio!
This will be a triumph of trills.
Control yourself, Niccolo, Don't get excited.
Don't go too far.
It's okay; others do.
But think about it before you decide.
Or you might be sorry.
No, I'm not focused enough.
In truth, I am tormented. There is something I burn with the desire to do.
I've had a fever for three days.
I intend to send my photos of Costanza to "Men" to be published.
Yes, it's true!
I am neither mad, nor am I vicious.
I'm just lucky. Oh, to have such a wife, what happiness!
I am proud of her.
I am thrilled! Nude photos of Costanza appeared in "Men"...
...with a small black rectangle covering certain details.
In the paragraph I wrote about it...
...I wanted to add, "My beloved Costanza..."
"...also has beautiful eyes."
Her body shines! Magnificent, victorious!
She is infinitely beautiful.
Men devour her with their eyes.
One said an obscenity. It did not anger me.
It even pleased me a little.
I want to shout to the whole world: "This is my wife!"
This is the cavatina, the missing piece I need.
I have it! All I need now is the third act.
Yes, it really is Costanza that inspires me.
But Costanza feels ashamed and humiliated. She cannot cope well with it.
That day, on my way to rehearsal, I wanted a cigarette.
It's a very good thing I did.
Looking for my pack of cigarettes...
I saw the letter Costanza had left in my pocket.
"My dear Niccolo, When you read this letter..."
"...I shall already be dead, suffocated, with gas."
"I will have killed myself, in shame."
"Maybe you will not understand..."
"...but I don't any more either. I'm not the woman for you."
"I beg your forgiveness. Farewell, Costanza."
Costanza!
What is this? What's going on?
Oh, please excuse me, Madam. I'm on the wrong floor. I live upstairs.
Costanza!
Thank God I was not too late.
You went too far, Niccolo.
You almost become a widower.
There are things you cannot understand.
I'm not like you think.
I believed him...
...and he betrayed me.
I was sick inside.
Suddenly afraid...
...of being...nobody. Of being nothing.
Then I discovered I really was someone...
...because you were my wife.
Nobody has a wife...
...as beautiful, as sensual, as exciting as you.
It is you who sees me like that. You shouldn't let it go to your head like this.
No, no. Perhaps you are not particularly exceptional when you're dressed...
...but when you're nude...
...that is something else altogether.
I realized that I would never a great cellist...
...but any man...
...who has a wife that all men desire...
She is mine!
Now, thanks to you, I am somebody.
You know, I've gotten there. I've arrived.
My opera, it's almost finished...
...and I think it's quite well done.
You know what its title is?
"The Male Blackbird" A joyful opera by Niccolo Vivaldi.
I'm so glad that you're here.
I'm so happy that you accepted my invitation.
Sit down here. I be back in a minute to play it.
Don't be impatient. I'll be right back.
Costanza, go in there and stay quiet. We should not see you or hear you.
It is important that we don't see you.
Here I am!
You are the first to hear it. It turned out pretty well, I think.
What kind of opera is it?
A joyful one. Your opinion is very important to me.
The cello has a prominent place in it.
- That's only fair, right? - Let's hear it.
It is truly a masterpiece! Bravo, Niccolo!
So what do you think? I'm asking you to be totally sincere.
Sincerely, it is a beautiful opera.
The style is great, and the overture is fantastic...
...and the whole thing is very moving.
I just have one comment.
You can't title it "The Male Blackbird."
- Why not? - Because, unfortunately, it is note for note...
...from "The Thieving Magpie" by Rossini.
I swear, I did not do it on purpose.
Besides, I didn't know a thing about "The Thieving Magpie."
It's a coincidence. But wait ...
Rossini had already composed it...
...but I didn't copy it. I recreated a work...
...he had written. That means that I possess Rossini's musical talent.
Then again, maybe in my subconscious, my childhood ...
"All right, now the tune of 'The Thieving Magpie.'"
That's right ...
Costanza, I'm sleeping here. Please leave me alone.
The nightmares have returned. That dream...
It's back.
Listen, since you're a friend...
...I'll tell you the truth.
I have bad news for you.
You didn't notice it...
...but at the end of the concert, I saw with my own eyes...
...how your cello ran off with the soloist.
She looked a little sad.
And if you want to know...
...the cello was pregnant, and yesterday she delivered...
...and gave birth to a violin.
- I don't believe you. - Resign yourself, it's a fact.
You have copied Rossini, so ... it's beautiful.
This is impossible, after twenty years.
- Impossible. - Look in the case.
You will see that there is more.
That's what you're hiding. I understand everything ...
Better than a cello.
Show it to me.
What an ass! Lucky, that...
...is an ass that speaks for itself.
We applaud an ass like that. Let me see.
You should be proud to show what you have.
When you have a beautiful painting, or a nice suit...
...what greater pleasure than to show it to others?
Hello, Niccolo.
Today I brought you the polenta with quail.
You haven't told me what your friend thought of the opera.
I don't care.
Here, put this on.
- We're going to the countryside. - It looks like a spider.
It's a leotard. Come on, please hurry up, put it on.
There's not a breath of air. Niccolo, I'm choking.
I have to find a good, sharp thorn.
What am I doing here with this wool sticking to me?
- Take off your shoe. - Why?
To put this thorn in your toe.
Are you out of your mind?
- I'll get tetanus. - Come back here.
Sit down.
Don't worry.
No, Niccolo, no!
It must penetrate well.
Niccolo!
"When you have a beautiful painting, a nice suit..."
"...what greater pleasure than to show others?"
What a story!
You wanted to wear it.
Doctor, it makes me laugh, that to show you a toe...
...I have to take off all of my clothes!
Let's hope it doesn't get infected.
This is impossible! Must I explain everything to you?
You were not supposed to be wearing panties under the leotard!
I should have checked it all out first.
What an idiot I was to have trusted you!
- It's not very hygienic. - Shut up. Don't say another word.
I want them to see you naked. Totally naked!
Okay, but calm down!
I want to see. I want to understand what I feel.
Okay.
You know, Costanza...
...my mind is clear...
...but I am very worried.
I know I've been very busy with the cello, the photos, the lyric opera ...
But that's not a problem.
Finally, I believe I have really found my way.
You got all that?
- I don't need a massage. - No matter.
And if people in the building figure out what's happening?
You want me to show myself off and let others touch me?
How do you suppose that will look?
I don't care; I need to feel that pleasure again.
I'll use camphor oil, okay?
Yes, yes, Okay.
If you want to prepare...
I have to take off everything, right?
No, that's not necessary.
- My God, how...? - Say again?
No. Listen.
I should take off my underwear. The camphorated oil could stain.
The camphor oil does not stain...
...but if you want to get undressed, go for it.
No, no.
What a cretin!
I will remove it them anyway. It's more comfortable and it's easier for you.
- It's no problem for me... - Here, I'll do it.
Excuse me, if I may be so bold...
...but you have a beautiful ass!
Here is the sleeper.
As I understand, you need to get to Rome tomorrow at 8 PM...
...and you be leaving at 8:10. What will you be doing in Rome?
That's my business.
Strange fellow, that.
I've have studied the railway map.
The red train stops in front of the house.
See?
There's a work crew repairing the road.
- Take this off. - I'll wind up in prison!
Shut up and hurry!
We're stopping.
Now, pretend to wash your hands.
Act as if nothing's out of the ordinary.
You must look distracted, preoccupied.
Now let your nightgown slip off.
Just be natural.
You're not having any doubts about this, are you?
Yes! Wash your hands just like that. Just be sure you don't look at me.
Beautiful! Perfect!
- Where? - There, in the train.
Don't look at them. Just ignore them, as if you didn't even know they were there.
I love you, Costanza.
Take a step back. Look at yourself in the mirror.
Turn around.
Show them your ass.
That's good.
Now get down to pick up something.
But there is nothing on the ground.
Pretend, you fool!
That's fine. Okay now, that's enough.
- Have you seen this piece ... - He's the husband.
Hot damn!
She's sparkling, lush and firm!
- The train from Verona? - Verona?
- Yes, quick! - This is it.
You're burning up!
how did you get a fever?
It is happiness, Costanza, the pleasure, the satisfaction, and fun ...
All of that which I experienced today.
You were great in the sleeper!
I really am very grateful to you. I love you even more.
Okay. Now let's get some sleep, Niccolo.
The conductor: What did he think of you?
He said I was sparkling, lush and firm.
What a beautiful dream. Do not wake me.
It really is a beautiful dream.
Good morning. Fill it up?
Yes. Check the pressure too, please.
The tits too.
Your pressure is running rather high.
You could skid, or even burst.
Thank you.
The dream I had last night is my favorite.
And I think I know why it is.
Cavalmoretti was in this dream.
It's less exciting to show Costanza naked to strangers...
...like the masseur, the pharmacist or the railway conductor.
The best ones are people I know, the ones who often underestimate me.
Tomorrow we'll show you to the concierge.
Blessed Virgin! When is this going to end?
I will pretend to have forgotten the house keys.
I ring.
You do not open...
...because you will act as if...
...you had slipped in the bathtub.
It would be better to gain momentum.
We'll have to break down the door. The lady may be in serious trouble!
Thank you for helping us.
Costanza! Costanza!
Vivaldi, Sir! She's in here!
She was taking a bath. She must have fainted.
- Mamma Mia! - Let's get her out of there, quick!
Costanza? Costanza...?
What could have happened? A dizzy spell, maybe?
It would probably be a good idea to dry her off.
Yes.
Shall I dry her off?
Yes.
I'll get something strong to drink.
I've been living here for ten years now...
...and I never realized...
...that we had a neighbor with tits like these.
That's it.
I'm back.
All done, Mr. Vivaldi.
Your wife is dry.
So I guess it's time for us to go.
- Goodbye, Mr. Vivaldi. - How can I thank you enough?
No problem. Good luck.
Thank you.
Bravo, Costanza! Very good!
You can open your eyes now. They've left.
That was good, Costanza.
Costanza? Costanza...? Costanza!
Costanza, wake up!
Call an ambulance.
I was in the bathtub, and stepped on the soap.
I slipped and bumped my head, hard.
It hurts! It hurts bad.
I was close to death.
Because of you, I had a concussion.
You were careless.
No, Niccolo. I may be ignorant...
...just a peasant girl, but I want you to listen to me.
These ideas and passions of yours are confusing.
To want me to be naked in front of everyone.
I did everything you wanted...
...because I love you...
...but now we must put a stop to all this.
I have a little confession. Maybe it wasn't quite right...
...but I took your diary and I read it.
I did it to learn about your thoughts, and feelings...
...because, I tell you, Niccolo, I love you...
...and I worry, for you and for me.
I read the last page and I swear ...
Shall I read it, Niccolo?
"I want this asshole conductor and the whole orchestra to see her naked."
"I will set it up for the premiere of 'Aida.'"
"I will hire Costanza for the chorus..."
"...and ask her to fake a 'wardrobe malfunction'..."
"...when she's on stage."
"Then she'll be naked in front of, maybe, twenty thousand people!"
Niccolo, I tell you, once again, I love you.
- I love you, too. - And...
...the truth is, I am ashamed!
I'm an honest woman, I am...
- ...and I am ashamed. - I admit, I'm a little ashamed as well.
Do you want to know why?
It's because I am jealous of you.
It's your obsession that took over. It controlled you, dominated you, completely.
There are so many other pleasures in life.
And by playing along with your little games...
...I risked my life, twice.
First suicide, and then later, when I slipped on the soap.
You're right. That's all true. I just never gave it any real thought.
And if I had died, would you have missed me? Would it have hurt?
Oh, my God!
Ask me if I love you.
- What do you mean? - Just ask me.
Do you love me?
I love you very much.
You have no idea just how much I love you.
So, if you love me that much, my request:
Let's get back to sanity. Get rid of the camera...
...the leotard, and the rest, and everything will be as before.
Okay, Costanza. We can go with that, I suppose.
And these photos...they'll be history now?
I can't say I like it, but I suppose it's for the best.
Okay, Costanza.
If it's what you want, I'll do without it.
I'll miss it, but in the end it's nothing. Your happiness is more important to me.
As you wish, Costanza. My promise, to you.
I gave it up. It was effortless; basically, it does not cost me.
Blessed Virgin, why isn't he here yet?
I hope nothing happened to him. It's not like him to come home late.
- Do you know me? - No, why?
You smiled, and I hoped that maybe you did.
I'm suddenly amnesiac.
I can't remember my name.
I must find someone who can tell me what my name is.
Frescobaldi!
No, no.
If I could just find someone I know.
Don't panic. Look carefully around you...
...the streets, houses. Something familiar. Just find the street.
Don't worry, it's just a little touch of amnesia.
Excuse me, sir. I beg your pardon, but...
...by any chance, do I live here?
Listen, wait, please!
Padovacci, Padovani, Padovetti...
...Vecchi Padre, Padre Missionari della Sacra Famiglia...
...Padula ... No, none of those.
Niccolo!
That's it! Fuck! Niccolo! Niccolo Vivaldi!
I had on the tip of the tongue.
What happened to you? I didn't sleep a wink!
I called the hospital, the police ...
Amnesia, Costanza, I forgot the name and address.
Whose?
Mine, of course! But don't worry. I'll get better.
I just need some sleep.
Tomorrow is rehearsal, and after that is the premiere of "Aida."
Wow! Is that...there...could it be?
Yes.
She's a smasher!
Ah! Tits that are big and yet don't lose their place!
Costanza! I didn't ask her to do this.
She did it on her own. For me. My dear Costanza.
Keep playing! Like nothing's happened!
Shh! Let's just be silent, like we don't notice it.
Wait, not yet!
Wait a little!
The contrabassoon!
Turn around! Back, back!
Show them your back!
She is beautiful! Beautiful!
That's my wife, everybody!
That's my wife! My wife!
It is a symphony, a celestial organ!
Band of rednecks!
Macaques!
Fags! Powerless!
I gathered all the elements here in this modest essay.
I have not tried to profit from it...
...but it turns out that his case corroborates my work.
Now everything is clear.
With the help of psychoanalysis, all this starts to make sense.
Some people are just more sensitive...
...than others.
Society has a hard time accepting them...
...as they are, that's all. Come, come.
It is serene here. He is happy.
You'll see for yourself. He's in the garden.
Go ahead. He's talking about you.
Look, here is Case No. 12.
We are friends.
Sit down.
Your husband and I are friends.
Go ahead, Oh ye of little faith!
- What are you doing? He's crazy? - Yes, ma'am.
Costanza, I told him to do that.
Did I or didn't I?
Yes, it's true. You're absolutely right.
These are truly exceptional tits.
Damn! Even she has two ...
Of course. Now you believe me?
Yes, I admit it. You were right.
You're a lucky man. She is voluptuous.
Well, Niccolo, I'll say goodbye.
Please, hold on a moment! You stay here.
You will come back, right?
Niccolo! What about me?
You, next week.
Goodbye, Niccolo. See you next week.
I'll count on you. The other guy needs to touch you, too.
Because now they believe me.
Goodbye.
Okay, start writing.
"I attest and certify..."
"...that Niccolo Vivaldi's wife..."
"...has the firmest, most beautiful tits..."
"...I have ever seen... ...or touched..."
"...as I have personally probed them for myself."
The love song of the male blackbird in the woods.
"The Thieving Magpie" by Vivaldi.
THE END