01x07 - Episode 7

Let go of me!

Let go of me!

Let go of me!

His Eminence Voiello knew about it, but he looked the other way.

Not me.

I'm curious about something, Eminence.

What does it feel like not to feel anything?

- Are you trying to intimidate me?

- I don't need to.

You're already intimidated by me and do you know why?

Because you're incredibly turned on by me.

Just try and deny it, you little whore!

- What are they doing?

- They don't want to let us hear him.

Why?

Because they want to kill Pius XIII.

I know Lenny.

Pius XIII is a living saint.

And in the Vatican, saints are an inconvenient presence.

Except for the Doctor and the nun, no one should know he woke up until I say so.

You called me.

I came back.

Now tell me why.

- Hi, what do you want?

- I'd like to eat something.

Are you mad?

It's Ramadan.

Listen Come back tonight.

What's your name?

- Faisal.

- Hi.

I'm Ahmed.

- How long did I sleep?

- Twelve months.

And I certainly deserve a Cherry Coke Zero.

You do know it's a miracle that you woke up?

Please!

Let's not start that again.

- What is your name, Sister?

- Pamela.

A name right out of a TV series.

And was it you who watched over me all this time?

- Yes, every night.

- And what did you do all night?

I would look at you and pray.

And when I fell asleep, I would dream I was praying For you.

And what did you ask for in your prayers?

- That you would wake up.

- Maybe it was you, then.

God listens to those who are close by.

Thank you, Sister Pamela, for watching over me.

It was a gift from heaven, Holy Father.

Right, it's true!

I'm the pope.

YOU HAVE KILLED PIUS XIII You'll have to fill me in on what has been happening these past few months.

Ok.

Ewa, dear, we have a guest.

I gave the servants a few days off.

That way no one will see you.

Luckily, we're the same size.

I can't wait to wear my papal vestments again.

Doctor, what is wrong with your wife?

Health wise?

Nothing.

She's suffering, that's all.

- We all suffer.

- She more than most.

She cannot bring herself to accept the inscrutable will of God.

She looks like the Madonna.

One of the reasons I fell in love with her.

We're both devout Catholics and before she was a happy Madonna, now she's a grieving one.

Do you have children?

I'd like to show you around my home.

This is one of the most beautiful houses in all of Venice.

Everyone said: don't buy it.

It's cursed, they said, but I don't believe in superstitions, which are antithetical to God.

Even if everything pushes us to believe they're true.

That didn't stop you, though.

- From desiring the house?

- No.

From desiring your son.

Even though, the tests showed he was ill.

However, you and your wife do not go against God, you go toward life.

And your wife refused to terminate the pregnancy.

You know everything.

What are you?

A Guru?

A saint?

Neither of the two.

I am simply an intuitive man.

Many of us are.

There are so many things I'd like to ask you.

You'd be disappointed.

I don't have any answers.

I quit when I got pregnant.

Good for you.

Now you can start up again.

It's nice to smoke.

No, it's not nice.

It's right.

You're in perfect health.

Everything is perfect.

- And inexplicable.

- An absolute scientific exception.

Nonsense.

Absolute scientific exceptions do not exist.

Thank you for the hospitality, and for agreeing to hide me here.

You're welcome to stay as long as you like.

Sooner or later, I have to go home, to the Vatican.

And what are you waiting for?

First I want to understand.

The world has not forgotten you.

The world loves you.

That's not the point.

What is, then?

In what way does the world love me, from now on?

Now that you, when you face questions from the press, won't be able to explain, scientifically, how I woke up from a coma?

Do you know my greatest desire, right now?

No, what?

To go for a walk.

With the proper precautions, we can give it a try.

Venice is quite deserted in January.

The tourists aren't around and the locals have been gone for years.

Are you all right, Doctor?

Your Holiness, you rose from the dead.

I did not ask for this.

I did not ask for this.

My husband has no courage.

He hasn't asked you what I begged him to ask, so I want to ask you myself.

You, on the other hand, are courageous.

That's clear.

I have nothing left to lose.

Have you never asked yourself why your husband has no courage?

No.

Because, unlike you, he has something to lose You.

He's afraid of losing you.

- I will always be at his side.

- No.

It's not how it works.

When one thing changes, everything changes.

Do you have any evening dresses?

You'd look magnificent in an evening dress.

That bathrobe, on the other hand, doesn't suit you.

I have beautiful dresses.

But I haven't worn them in 11 years, not since my son was born.

Why did you ask?

Because if things were to change, if you would start wearing those dresses again, and your husband would not be by your side.

He may kill himself.

No man can allow soft luxury of losing a woman like you.

That's how things change.

And that's why he is afraid.

No.

It's not the way it is.

Yes, it is.

I know it is.

While you were in a coma, a woman named Ester spoke on TV.

- She said - I know what she said.

And I know what you wanted to ask.

I didn't do anything for Ester and I won't do anything for you, because I am unable to help you.

You're right.

Things change.

And if my son were to get better, I wouldn't have any more reason to live in a bathrobe, and my husband wouldn't have any more reason to fear losing me.

We would be what we wanted to be in the beginning.

A happy family!

- Then never cease praying.

- You are!

You see me as a shortcut.

As an impossible dream.

You are a saint, and you performed a miracle: Ester got pregnant.

Then, on TV, a priest, he wanted to remain anonymous, said that in the Vatican, you performed a miracle when you were a boy, too.

You cured your friend's mother, who was terminally ill, like my son.

Then, you rose from the dead.

That's what my husband told me, and he's a scientist, one of the most famous cardiologists in the world.

You weren't supposed to wake up or rather you couldn't wake up.

- And yet you did.

- I am not a saint.

I did not rise from the dead and I do not perform miracles, ma'am.

- I am just the pope.

- No.

No, you're not.

Not anymore.

My husband was cowardly about that as well.

What are you saying?

Nine months after you fell into the coma, they elected Tommaso Viglietti, Francis II.

He didn't last long.

Then they elected John Brannox, John Paul III.

Try to cure my son.

You are no longer the pope.

You're beyond that.

You are a saint.

If you rose from the dead, you are Christ.

If you have returned, you are the Messiah.

I beg you, try to cure my son!

- No.

- Try to cure my son.

He's suffering.

He has been bedridden since the day he was born.

He knows nothing and no one, not even us, his parents.

I am no longer alive.

My husband is no longer alive.

We're dead, in a dead house, in a dead city.

I believe in God and I know I need to be able to read the signs.

You came here, that's a sign.

But you know all this far better than I do.

You believe in God, but you're not very versed in theology.

You're delirious.

I am not Christ, nor am I the Messiah.

It's more likely that I am the Antichrist.

In truth, I have only woken up from a coma.

And medical science doesn't know how to explain it yet.

That's all.

You want to save your son?

Then continue to pray.

I have run out of prayers.

I don't believe in God any more.

God can f*ck off!

I only believe in you.

And you have a moral obligation to save my son!

Let's go!

Why?

Because they have killed Pius XIII.

There's no more reason for us to stay.

- How can you be so sure?

- Ester said so.

It's true.

They killed him.

I know.

I feel it!

- Let's go.

- Go where?

To purify ourselves.

Whoever believes in me should follow me.

I was hoping I'd find you here.

You scared me.

I didn't know where you were.

Put this on!

I needed another walk.

Will you ever be able to forgive my wife?

She's the one who will need to forgive me.

No, of course she forgives you.

Please, accept my apologies on her behalf.

She's she is worn out, wasting away, like a candle.

And I'm afraid.

At times, I worry that she's on the verge of insanity.

I am terrified.

In centuries past, bad things happened in our palazzo: murders and suicides.

At night, every night, when I can't sleep, I'm thinking to myself: it's going to happen again.

- History is going to repeat itself.

- No.

It's not going to happen this time.

Venice is beautiful, but Rome is my home.

Even though I'm no longer the pope.

I hope there is still a bed for me there, somewhere.

You want to go back to Rome?

Shall I call someone?

No.

Not yet.

Let's go.

- Go where?

- I wanna meet your son.

He has type 1 congenital myotonic dystrophy.

A progressive, irreversible loss of muscle tone, impaired development, endocrine alterations, congenital heart defect, cognitive deficit.

Even the most minor cardiac arrhythmia could prove fatal.

- I would like to stroke his cheek.

- Of course.

He'd like that.

Even though he won't be able to express it.

I will know, I will know regardless.

What is he saying to him?

I don't know.

Never before have we seen anything like this.

A vile, treacherous attack against the very heart of the Catholic Church.

The Basilica was empty when the dynamite attack occurred last night.

There are no victims, but numerous works of art have been damaged, including Michelangelo's Pieta', which reportedly has suffered serious damage.

There are unconfirmed reports that two young men, an Egyptian and a Syrian seen early hanging around the Vatican, were taken into custody immediately following the explosion.

Nor the Pope John Paul III, nor the new Secretary of State, Cardinal Mario Assente, has released any sort of statement.

The silence on the part of the Holy See is already cause for heavy criticism.

Come in!

What is it?

I would like to apologize.

You two are going out tonight.

Excuse me?

Tonight, you and your husband are going to get dressed up and you are going out, take the evening off.

It doesn't matter where you go.

But tonight, you are going out.

- Why?

- Because you need it.


I will watch over your son for you.

Okay.

What is your son's name?

Arek.

Good.

I'll stay with Arek.

What did you say to him yesterday, when you whispered in his ear?

I described heaven to him, down to the tiniest detail.

You know what heaven is like?

Yes I do.

I'd forgotten that in January, not a single restaurant is open here in Venice.

We've already had one miracle tonight.

We're out.

I can't even remember the last time that happened.

When we first met, we used to go out every night.

I wanted to show you Venice, before we got married.

Yeah, that was a special time.

Do you remember the first time we met?

Of course I remember.

You were wearing a tux then, too.

And you were very charming.

I remember I said: "My name is Helmer Lindegard, I'm a doctor," and you came back with an extraordinary retort.

You put on a mysterious smile and you said: "Know that I will need a lot of care.

" Game over.

There was no turning back.

I was head over heels from that point on.

I used to be good at coming up with witty retorts.

When you're young, you believe blindly in your own vanity.

Then that night, in Saint Mark's Square, I snuck a peek at you as you walked.

I'll never see another woman walk like that as long as I live.

And I said to myself: "When she stops walking, I'll ask her to marry me.

" You'd never seen a model walk before.

And I said: "Yes, I want to marry you too, Doctor.

" Just like that.

How crazy was I!

Shall we go home?

I'm worried about Arek.

Yes, let's go home.

Now Lord, you and I must talk.

You and I must talk about Arek.

Make him a man, Lord.

Make him a man, Lord.

I will intercede, but you must act.

Make him a man.

Make him a man.

Make him a man, Lord.

Wait here And look.

I do not perform miracles.

I simply find myself at the center of coincidences.

Time for your bath, Arek.

Thank you for trying.

I imagine you would like to go back to Rome now.

No.

It's still not time.

Our hatred is concrete.

Our enemy is obvious.

It's Iblis.

It's the Christian, the crusader.

And as the Koran says: I will fill Hell with you all, you and all those after you.

Sit down, Sofia!

What is happening is bigger than I am.

I need some advice.

- I know.

- Would you help me?

I am retired, now.

I am out of the game.

- Can't we pretend?

- Pretend what?

That you're still the Secretary of State?

Just for ten minutes.

Please!

You're the most intelligent man the Church has ever known.

I make a brilliant gardener as well.

Girolamo and I tried grafting a nun's orchid with a rose of Bethlehem, and it worked.

Don Mimmo was skeptical, but he had to eat his words.

Right, Don Mimmo?

So, Sofia, what seems to be the problem?

Since the attack, the pope has given up.

He is poorly advised.

The problem is that it has become impossible to advise him.

He has holed himself up in his apartment and refuses to speak with anyone.

He has fallen into a deep depression.

All he does is weep over the death of his dog.

He said it himself, he is a piece of fragile porcelain.

- What can I do?

- You can weaken the strong.

I've been doing that my whole life.

But there is one thing you can not do.

- What's that?

- Given the strength to the fragile.

And so?

And so there is only one thing left to do.

- Ride John Paul III's weakness.

- What do you mean?

Facing you is a man who is worthless.

A man without merits.

I'm indolent, I'm pompous, I am irresponsible, I am conceited, I'm a disappointment, I am undistinguished thespian, I'm a weak man, and I am a drug addict.

- Holy Father - Please, let me finish.

You and I must talk now.

Yes, Lord, you and I must talk about Arek.

Life is life.

I know, I'm going where you would rather I didn't.

But I am asking you: make him a man.

Make him a man.

I will intercede, but you must act.

Make him a man.

I told you.

Make him a man.

Make him a man!

Make him a man.

Have you read "The Middle Way"?

The summation of my thinking?

- Did you like it?

- Like it?

Who didn't!

It is what is guiding us all in these difficult times.

It is a masterpiece.

True, it is a masterpiece.

But I did not write it.

What are you saying, Holy Father?

My brother Adam wrote it and he died before he could publish it.

So I did, and claimed it as my own.

I am an imposter, Gutierrez.

Make him a man.

Make him a man.

Make him a man now!

Make him a man now, Lord.

Make him a man, Lord.

I will not wait another second, make him a man!

Make him a man now.

Lord, make him a man.

Make him a man, Lord.

Make him a man.

Make him a man.

Make him a man, Lord, now.

Make him a man.

Make him a man, Lord, make him a man.

Make him a man.

Make him a man, Lord.

Make him a man.

Make him a man, Lord.

Make him a man now!

- Have you finished, Holy Father?

- Is that not enough?

No, it is not enough to not be forgiven.

God saves us, always.

God does not deny anyone the grace of salvation.

It is the most beautiful thing there is.

We love vanity and sin.

We love deprivation and wickedness.

So we believe that God has abandoned us.

That God does not like us.

But God does not manage our lives.

He does not correct our weaknesses.

God does not stop our hand, when it plunges into sin.

No.

All He does is save us.

In the end, God saves us.

And He saves us with a kiss.

Just like with Moses.

Holy Father What is Heaven like?

Exactly like here, the same life as here on earth, for each of us.

Except, it's not the same.

Why?

Because in heaven we glimpse God.

And Arek?

Will he go to heaven?

Yeah.

This is his place.

And now the time has come.

For what?

To return to Rome.

You will call the Holy See.

And speak with Gutierrez.

And when you finished speaking with Gutierrez, you will get your wife, and the two of you will meet me in the ballroom.

- Why?

- Because I'd like to say goodbye.

But first but first I would like to show you a miracle.

Holy Father, I have to tell you something.

Now Let's hold hands, and close our eyes.