01x07 - Episode 07

Lazio is going deep once again...

Watch out for Lulic!

How could we let this happen?

How could we let this happen? How could we let this happen?

Such a key game... wasted like this!

What the hell?!

What kind of Naples' team is this?

How can you possibly play such a crucial game this way?

We let them overtake us like this!

We let them overtake us like this!

For the second time!

How could we let this happen?

What a disappointment!

What a disappointment!

Lulic's 2-0...

Just as the first half was about to end.

What a disappointment!

What a disappointment!

Leave us!

They'll destroy us.

This losing retrograde battle against homosexuals, especially in the glare of that young man's suicide, will put an end to everything.

It's possible to tolerate a great many things but not a threat to one's own survival.

But you told me that you gave those photos to Sister Mary and that she had destroyed them.

That's true.

But first I made a copy... just in case.

What do you have in mind?

Let's give them to the press.

In fifteen days we'll have a new Pope.

An adult Pope.

Who?

Spencer.

Or else me.

No.

Me.

All right.

I'll pull strings in the Conclave like always, and you'll be the new Pope.

And you'll be an all-powerful Cardinal Secretary of State again.

But none of that will happen.

We won't use those photographs. There won't be any scandal.

Why not?

Because we can't show the world the image of a Pope with his hands on a young woman's breasts.

It would be the lowest point ever for the Church, that no subsequent Pope would ever be able to recover from it.

You're forgetting something.

subtitles: sookie sync & corrections: othelo

I speak frequently with the Pope.

What I'm about to tell you he said to me in conversation, not in the confessional.

Which means I'm not breaking the seal of confession.

What are you about to tell me?

The Pope is going through a profound crisis of faith.

What are you insinuating, Don Tommaso?

That the Pope doesn't believe in God.

They've manifested themselves.

Who?

My Mom and Dad.

But how?

It came in a box. No postmark, no nothing.

Not a clue, no way to track them down.

Why don't they wanna be tracked down?

Because they're afraid of you, Your Holiness.

Everyone is afraid of you.

You've gotta cut it out with the fear, Your Holiness.

The important thing is that they're alive.

And they haven't forgotten you.

That's the Madonna of the jungle.

I know that.

Was there something you wanted to tell me, Sister Mary?

The Pope is upset, the Pope is experiencing a moment of weakness.

The Pope is distracted.

If you need to have him sign a document or something of the sort that gets our Church back on course, this would be the right time to do it.

I've done my part. Now you need to do yours.

What exactly have you done?

You'd better be ready, Voiello.

Someone might see us.

There is a new preface by Joseph.

I'm depressed, Angelo.

I don't give a sh1t that you're depressed, Michael.

At night, I take care of a disabled boy.

Last night I was looking at him, he was drooling and his eyes were blank, and I thought to myself: what is the Church doing for this boy?

And the answer was simple: the Church is doing nothing.

Why?

What was it doing before Pius XIII?

Are you depressed or suffering from amnesia, Michael?

Before Pius XIII the Church was taking care of the poor.

It was "also" taking care of the poor.

But there's a bigger question.

What is the Church doing on a more general basis?

It's not doing anything anymore.

It's killing time.

We have a Church that's just killing time and has become infinitely marginal.

That's exactly what the Pope wants: a marginal Church.

Small and dead.

He said it and now he's done it.

He wants to take the Church back to its beginnings?

In the beginning, all this was nothing more than Peter's tomb.

For what purpose?

To close himself off, to deny himself, to make himself inaccessible and mysterious?

Sacrifice and suffering to get closer to God.

In his convoluted logic this strategy is supposed to stimulate the world's curiosity and dedication, so that everyone will want to come back to discover the mystery.

Fine! But none of this is happening.

The churches are empty.

The mass with the Tridentine rite would discourage anyone.

It's now harder to become a priest than it is to become an astronaut.

The Pope is refusing to refinance the missions.

Our non-relations with other religions are tense and dangerous.

We've become few in number, alone, against the rest of the world.

St. Peter's Square is empty, dreary, and abandoned.

Michael, we have the duty to take steps.

How?

Michael, come see.

I know how to get him to resign, Michael.

And who would this new Pope be?

Forgive me, Lord, for I have deceived, I am deceiving, and I will continue to deceive the Holy Father.

Forgive me, Lord, but I can no longer continue to look on at the destruction of the man I love more than I love myself.

Forgive me, Lord, for I cannot continue any longer to look on at the destruction of the institution I love more than I love myself: the holy Roman Church.

Having fun, Aldo?

Yeah, I guess...

Don't you agree it's a crime that the cocktail culture is in decline, Your Eminence?

Is it really such a bad thing?

I should say so.

My father taught me the art of the cocktail when I was twenty-five.

My father was one of the first people in Italy to devote himself to the art of the cocktail, you know.

I'm sorry.

Can you excuse me just a moment?

You're a murderer.

Did you come for me?

No, no, I came because I've never felt so alone and in despair in all my life.

Angelo Sanchez is dead.

And I wanted to die when I first saw you.

I was dying of desire.

Ludovico, we'd like to go to bed.

Would you do us a favor?

Get his crucifix and take him back to the Vatican.

I'll take care of it, mom.

Who are you?

Ludovico Meraviglia.

When will they be here?

Soon.

They're clearing immigration and passport control.

Why don't you help the time pass by doing a little work?

They're here.

Show them in.

Did you send me a gift?

Yes.

What did you send me?

The piece of the pipe you were missing.

The piece I gave you before I left you.

How did you know I lost it?

From time to time I'd call the orphanage where you were growing up.

And they told me that you always kept a piece of the pipe with you, but that you were missing the other piece.

How did you find that piece?

I had already lost it after you left me at the orphanage.

Because one day, I was in a shop in Venice, and I happened to find the same pipe so I bought it.

And I sent you the piece of it that you had lost.

All right.

Now neither of you move.

It's not them.

Valente, expel these impostors from my home immediately.

Who are you, Lenny?

I'm an orphan.

Just like you.

When you gonna grow up?

Never.

A priest never grows up, because he can never become a father.

He'll always be a son.

That is why we imposed a vow of celibacy on ourselves thirteen centuries ago, because we must always be the sons of God, never dare try to take His place.

Do you know why I wanted to meet you up here?

No, why?

Because this is where that young Spaniard, Angelo Sanchez, jumped from.

He wanted to be a priest and we thwarted him.

I thwarted him.

And now he's dead.

Lucky him.

He's going to speak with God.

Unlike us, he's finally going to find out the way things stand.

What has become of your pity?

Have you never experienced pity?

I can't take it anymore, Lenny.

I wanna go home, I wanna go back to Honduras.

If you give up now, now that you're faced with the burden of responsibility and your own guilty conscience, when will you ever grow up?

When?

Who is betraying me?

Who is sending actors to my home, palming them off as my long-lost parents?

Who?

Voiello, Spencer?

Tell me, Tommaso.

No.

"No", what?

No, I won't tell you anything else.

Why not?

Because I'm stupid, it's true, but not that stupid.

Do you resent me for not having made you a cardinal yet?

Yes, at first I thought that was the reason I wouldn't confide in you again.

You'll assume the purple at the next consistory.

It doesn't matter.

Because then I identified another reason I won't ever tell you anything again.

Why?

You don't believe in God, Holy Father.

You don't believe in God.

He pooped.

You can give him to me, Your Holiness.

I'm happy to change him.

Peter, get some rest, I'll take care.

Oh, a lot of poop!

Holy Father, the other day I was reflecting on the fact that the one thing on which we share a single view is the management of the Tonino Pettola case.

You can never be too careful.

Are you afraid of being poisoned, Your Holiness?

Among other things.

These are practices that have fallen out of use even in the Vatican, Your Holiness.

So... who organized that ridiculous masquerade with the fake parents?

Not me, Your Holiness.

I'd find it offensive if you thought I was behind that.

My methods are far more sophisticated.

I have to give you that.

Who, then?

I don't know. Believe me.

I wouldn't rule out the possibility that they were a couple of the kind of lunatics who crawl out of the woodwork, and that our screeners allowed themselves to be taken in.

Holy Father, I swear to God there is no conspiracy against you.

Only a great deal of sincere concern.

What did you have me sign the other day?

A simplified procedure for ordaining new priests.

And why did you have me sign it without talking to me about it first?

I had the documents delivered to you the night before.

I assumed you had read them.

No. That's not what happened.

You knew my head would be in the clouds and you had me hastily sign those documents that were completely opposed in their intent to the direction I' advocating..

No, that's not right.

I wanted you to sign the decree simplifying the procedure for ordaining new priests because the press is attacking us.

They're calling us murderers.

That with our shortsightedness, we killed young Angelo Sanchez.

What do you think?

Did we kill him?

Do you want the truth?

Yes, I want the truth.

No, Holy Father. We didn't kill him.

You killed him.

I couldn't bring myself to do it, Caltanissetta.

I couldn't have him sign his resignation.

It's time to speak the truth: Pius XIII is a total failure.

I'm gonna resign, Michael.

It's the only thing left to do.

He knows.

Do you know who I am?

Yes. You're Carlos Garcia.

And do you know what I do for a living?

I've heard that you're a narco.

No, I'm not just any narco.

I'm the biggest narco around.

And do you know how I became the biggest narco around?

By cunning?

No.

By violence.

I understand.

No, you don't understand.

Violence, per se, ought not to exist.

It does exist when there is a lack of respect.

But there are many different ways to disrespect.

And not all require the use of violence.

If you had preached in your church against the narcos and refused to give me communion, I wouldn't feel disrespected, you would simply have been doing your job, and I wouldn't have felt obliged to use violence against you.

But that's not what you did.

That's what the current bishop is doing, and he's right to do so.

In fact, no one would dream of laying a finger on him.

You however have chosen another path for your protests against drug trafficking.

You've decided to take my wife to bed.

And that's not right.

That's not right because now you're putting me in the odious position of having to decide whether to forgive you or not.

My profound religiosity tells me I should forgive you, but my professional working ethics tell me the opposite.

All right, Esteban, let's go.

Hello, Rome!

Greetings.

Thank you so much...

Thank you.

God has been evicted.

I'm going to hand in my resignation.

My papacy is a failure.

Never say that again, Lenny.

You will be a great Pope.

The most beloved Pope of them all.

You've healed the sick.

You've made a hopelessly sterile woman pregnant.

You are a saint.

A beautiful saint.

You are the sweet Christ come back to earth.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Thank you for what you did for me the other day.

What did I do for you?

It was wonderful!

That was the loveliest moment of my life, to believe for a fleeting instant that I had found them again.

For just one moment, I felt like I'd come home.