WWW.MY-SUBS.CO ﻿1
We have only one viable candidate
for the papacy, Sir John Brannox.
Come back with a new pope in your pocket.
I've got a lot of projects to propose to Brannox.
Then I will use my charm to persuade him.
If I were to become pope,
might I be able to meet famous people?
Oh.
Finally, a sensible reason for aspiring to the papacy.
I still don't understand why you can't get into
Brannox's good graces.
Guess who knows the Pope's secret?
Do you remember me, Holy Father?
Beautiful baby, your nephew.
Ah, thank you, Holy Father.
Um...
Appreciate that.
Oh, sorry, I brought a gift for you,
a painting that I did.
Thank you.
Interesting, thank you.
You're welcome.
So...
You look a bit older.
And it might just be the beard, but...
I've had a beard since I was 31.
Well, I remember this amazing speech
that you gave in Venice,
but I don't remember you having a beard then.
That was Pius XIII.
Oh.
So... who are you?
I'm John Paul III.
Oh, oh... oh.
Please forgive me, Holy Father.
You gotta understand, I've been in the studio
holed up for months, and I don't really
keep track of the news, so...
What helps?
Potassium phosphate
mixed with a capsule of Xabol.
So you're quite the pharmaceutical adventurer.
So you're not Pius XIII.
No, I'm the new pope.
May I ask what happened to the old pope?
He's in coma,
and he had a successor, Francis II,
and he died.
Wow.
Um... have you gone to visit him?
Who?
The pope in a coma.
No, not yet.
Maybe you should.
Brothers.
Many,
far too many members of the clergy
believe that love
is an infinite meadow
and they're allowed to pick all the flowers they want.
But they are not picking flowers.
They are ripping plants from the earth
and assuring by their actions
that in the scorched and barren soil
they've defiled,
nothing more will ever grow.
This is what our Church risks becoming.
The world wants to see pedophile priests hanged.
But Jesus would not want this.
Jesus is civility, and the Church
cannot, must not abandon her children,
especially if they are ill.
But...
if they are ill,
she must distance them
from the heart of ecclesiastical life forever.
Forever.
I know it sounds trite, but seeing you surrounded
by all these men
makes me swell with pride.
Is that what we're calling it now?
Pride?
Your Holiness.
When you have a minute,
I would like to show you something.
A gift...
from me to you, Your Holiness.
They told me you only love Bentleys.
So this is the way the real world works.
Yes, this is how it works.
I hope that you are not offended, Your Holiness.
It's only a welcome gift,
one that expects nothing in return.
What could I possibly give in return, Eminence?
I am only a primus inter pares.
To be concrete,
you need to make appointments.
I'm never concrete.
Do you remember, Your Holiness, when we slept
in the same room after the seminary?
What happy memories.
We were young then.
All I remember about my youth
is my brother, Adam.
Do you still sleep with that silver box
next to your bed?
Actually, you're right, of course.
We did sleep in the same room.
I recall you had an endless stream of young visitors
day and night, no?
If you allow me, Holy Father,
I would be happy to inform you sometime
of certain habits inside the Vatican.
Oh, I very much allow you, Eminence.
Do it now. Do tell straightaway.
I'm curious.
In the Vatican, the choice is between
blackmail and benevolence.
I always prefer the second option.
Don't you?
I never answer important questions
in the evening, Eminence,
especially after three glasses of champagne.
Matter resolved.
A quid pro quo in the chain of command.
May I swear?
Just once.
Like fuck it is.
The matter's not resolved at all.
Reverend Mother, Don Cavallo informed me
that you had requested 200 euro
in order to take Lisette's mother to Lourdes.
And I have just given you 200 euro.
What we want now is not what we wanted before.
Our requests have changed.
You don't understand.
I understand everything, Reverend Mother,
but you need to be more clear.
We sisters have joined together,
and we now understand the difference
between charity and rights.
I am all ears.
We... demand respect.
Social, moral,
and economic recognition for the duties
we sisters perform.
We want to be welcomed into the bosom of the Church,
to be granted a more active ministry,
including administering the sacraments.
And, in general, we expect the male clergy to adopt
a psychologically mature attitude
in its relations with us female members.
Please, clarify this last point for me.
Do you really need me to elaborate
on the sort of things your brothers are capable of?
No, not now... I don't have time...
but a detailed written account would prove most useful.
- That you shall have. - No, you won't.
It's a trap, Reverend Mother.
We will be dismissed as tattlers,
and he will have a record
of all his accomplices' depravities,
the better to blackmail them with.
Spectacular... the talent.
This will be a long war, though it will end
as they all do, with my victory.
But you, Sister Lisette,
will make a formidable adversary.
You can bet on that.
Now what are you doing?
I'm dismissing you.
Then we will carry on with our strike.
Fine, and we priests will learn how to cook and wash
and iron our robes.
It's about time.
Be careful, Sister Lisette.
Your rights are one thing.
The rites of the Church are another.
The former are negotiable, for they belong to man.
The latter are not, for they belong to God.
That's better.
You haven't joined your sisters' protest?
No.
Me, no.
Why not?
Because I decided to believe in you.
What are your sisters asking for?
Respect.
Don't you need respect?
I have always had it.
I work with popes.
Are you mad at me?
I couldn't.
You're just a Sunday morning Christian.
What does that mean?
Ready to do good
only if you don't have to get your hands dirty.
You're like those philanthropists who think
they'll go to heaven if they give away
a tiny fraction of their dirty money.
You're being unfair. I tried.
No, you didn't try, Ester.
You just deluded some people who are truly suffering.
When will I see you again?
Here I am, Holy Father.
Forgive me for being a little late,
but the Napoli coach's press conference
dragged on and on.
Brevity of speech is not his strong point.
You, Voiello, have the great gift of informing me
of things that would not interest me
even if I were you.
So what is this about the nuns occupying
the Sistine Chapel?
Every six months or so, the sisters remember
that somewhere in some parallel universe,
they, too, could say Mass.
But don't worry.
I have the situation under control.
Don't be too hard on them, Voiello.
The proper amount...
that way, they will not be too hard on me.
Marilyn Manson doesn't know who I am.
Marilyn Manson doesn't know who he is.
The Church I have in mind
must be better at informing people.
Every Marilyn in the world
should know reflexively who the pope is.
This is not vanity. This is necessity.
Um, as for them knowing who they are,
there's always time for that.
Emory Kitsworth wants to interview you.
An in-depth, wide-ranging conversation.
Exclusive coverage on the "Times" website,
live, then rebroadcast an hour later
on every TV channel in the world.
So voilà, now every Marilyn in the world will know you.
Hmm, an appealing idea.
I have another one.
I wish to pay a visit to Pius XIII.
- Dutiful. - Dangerous.
To have two popes, Pius XIII and John Paul III,
together in one photograph
wouldn't do much to clear up the confusion.
That photograph will never be taken.
My visit to Pius XIII will be strictly private.
My face will only be seen in public
on my way to and from the hospital.
In storytelling, that is called powerful deference.
My admiration for well-read women
will never fade.
Perhaps that's why I don't miss Meghan.
Is there any possibility
he could wake up?
Based on the knowledge we have now, no.
No possibility.
His hand was so warm.
I found that comforting.
He is still alive...
Even though he doesn't know it.
In Venice, my authority
did not turn into authoritativeness.
If I may, Your Holiness, it is actually the opposite.
Your authoritativeness did not turn into authority.
What should I have done?
Never mingle with idolaters.
Had you asked my advice,
that is what I would have told you.
What do you think, Sofia?
You cannot please everyone, Holy Father.
If I do not please, I cannot seduce.
If I do not seduce, I cannot influence.
If I do not influence, I repent.
Of what?
Of everything.
Do I please you?
Immensely.
May I ask you an indiscreet question?
I will never tell you what the woman
whispered in my ear, Eminence.
Appointments.
Our dear Sofia reconfirmed as director of communications.
The masterful Voiello reconfirmed
as secretary of state.
Gutierrez will be my adviser.
And now an innovation...
my new personal secretary in charge of creativity,
the most eminent Cardinal Spalletta.
What would you have me do, Holy Father?
Everything I do not wish to do,
which I can assure you will be rather a lot.
In terms of creativity, what do you propose, Spalletta?
I would commission Christo to make
a gigantic contemporary cross
to be exhibited in St. Peter's Square.
A classic extemporary operation, Holy Father,
and also quite costly.
Nor is it devoid of the age-old stench
of corruption.
So not a good idea.
Spalletta?
Hmm.
A momentous diplomatic visit to North Korea?
That's already been done.
I would be the second.
I've playing second fiddle my whole life,
so not a good idea, Spalletta.
A smashing success, Spalletta.
And now I will instruct
my personal secretary in private.
Disappointed?
No, not in the least, Holy Father.
I won't deny that I aspired to become secretary of state,
but personal secretary allows me
to work closely with you,
which is what really matters.
I'm only thinking
of your own good, Holy Father,
for your good coincides with the good of the Church.
So Francis II's death... what do you make of it?
Did he really die of natural causes?
Do you really want to know what I think?
Hmm.
Probably not.
Voiello probably had a hand in it.
So we share the same suspicions.
What do you say we look into it,
just to keep ourselves from getting bored
and to keep me from meeting the same fate?
May I offer you some impartial advice, Holy Father?
Of course.
I would let it drop.
Hmm?
I will not deny my longstanding antipathy for Voiello.
Yet I feel I must warn you
that making inquiries about him
would mean setting yourself against him...
Which is the last thing you want to do here in the Vatican.
Even the walls know that.
What makes him so dangerous?
No one really knows.
But the fact is,
every time someone tries to oppose him,
he has ended up in pieces,
literally.
Literally.
Voiello is helped... by the Lord, Holy Father.
But... what is difficult to understand is,
who is this Lord?
Is he divine?
Or is he human?
John!
Sir John,
what did that woman in Venice say to you?
Good day, Sisters.
You wanted to see me?
Actually, we wanted to see you five hours ago.
Ah, forgive me for having kept you waiting.
The consequences of the strike...
everything is moving more slowly now.
So what can I do for you?
To start, fix the Wi-Fi.
If only I could, but the server is down.
That happens occasionally, and a nun usually repairs it,
but that nun is currently on strike.
Are you saying we have to suspend our strike
if we want Internet?
It would seem that I am.
Why don't you call in an outside technician?
Because here in the Vatican, we don't like waste
and because we can live just fine without Wi-Fi.
We are the oldest institution in the world, Sister Lisette,
not the Apple campus.
Reverend Mother, you seem tired.
So am I.
I am not sleeping well. Are you?
Try this, chamomile.
It helps, I've found.
If we suspend our strike,
what will you give us in exchange?
Wi-Fi.
And our other demands, what about them?
I will bring them to the Holy Father's attention,
as I do with every request that comes across my desk.
Do not overestimate my power, Sister Lisette.
I am merely a paper pusher.
We would like to meet with the Holy Father ourselves
to explain our position.
A sacrosanct right.
You merely need to file an official request to see him.
Mm-hmm.
Filed with whom?
With me.
I'm confused.
What exactly is the purpose of this meeting
which you have defined
as both urgent and highly confidential?
We are repealing the "eight per thousand" law.
The tax Italian people pay
to maintain the clergy.
This is a declaration of war on the Church.
No, no, no, it's a necessary step
toward saving the Italian people.
How?
One, our finances are in incredible disarray.
The EU won't grant us any relief.
A surmountable problem. I will talk with the EU.
Two, we were elected on the basis
of a clear and simple platform:
to do away with privilege,
which is exactly what we have done.
We put the Church at the bottom of the list,
but now your time is up.
I see, so the issue is not my confusion
but your conviction.
I take that as a compliment.
Take it as a threat.
Your conviction conveys a distinct lack of respect
for the only thing that matters to us here in the Vatican.
What is that?
Mystery.
If they go through with it, it would be the end of us.
The Church will be poor.
What do you advise we do, Holy Father?
Nothing.
As the great Cardinal Newman used to say,
Christian virtues are poetic:
gentleness and grace,
compassion, joy, and modesty;
whereas common, course sentiments
are rhetorical tools:
anger, indignation, emulation,
combative spirit, the love of independence.
We must fly high.
We shall hold on to the poetry
and leave the rhetoric to others.
Holy Father, with all due respect,
I'm afraid Newman may not be enough.
What a shame, Eminence.
What a shame.
The world once again confirms it has no use for poetry.
But I am not the world.
That is not me.
You're back.
Yes, Ester, I came back...
To test your righteousness.
I should have stayed at home to loll about my own house
rather than having to loll about in someone else's.
This is your house,
and I will make it more comfortable for you.
Listen, I can convince
the minister of economy to delay the measure.
Delay it until the government falls,
at which point we will be safe.
Holy Father, the "eight per thousand"
is not the only source of the money Guicciardini needs.
It can be found elsewhere.
Where?
In our own backyard.
We have our own financial organization.
Which is free and easy, I gather.
See, Holy Father, you can be concrete when you want to be.
Don't alter my nature. It may kill me.
So give me a free hand.
I will continue to deal with the stench of the body
and you with the perfume of the spirit.
An admirable poetic utterance, Eminence.
What must I do?
Tomas Altbruck, Sofia Dubois' husband...
Appoint him head of our financial organization.
Thank you, Holy Father,
for receiving me at this late hour.
I shall always have time for you, Gutierrez.
You are dear to my heart.
I am ready to hear your confession.
Freddie was dressed nicely tonight.
When we were in the hallway, he took out his keys,
and, with the calmness of youth,
he opened the door to his room.
But first...
he turned and looked at me.
Once inside, he knew what to do.
I didn't, though.
His confidence excited me.
He got undressed in front of the mirror.
He wasn't looking at me, but...
he knew I was looking at him.
His back, his bare back.
It was too much.
I could barely bring myself to look at it.
It excited me so.
But at the same time, I wanted more.
And...
and it was as if there was a wall between us.
But it wasn't an obstacle, that wall.
Please, that's enough.
Yes, enough.
Holy Father, enough.
Freddie satisfied my body.
God satisfies my spirit.
So...
Why do I always feel so empty?
But you are not alone, my friend.
You are not alone. That is all I can say to you.
This constant sense of feeling inadequate...
Makes us constantly nervous. I know.
I absolve you of all your sins.
But now you will have to hear my confession.
In order to stoke my pride,
soothe my insecurities,
satisfy my vanity,
and salvage my limping papacy...
I have taken the first step
in the everlasting garden of sin.
And coward that I am,
I pretended not to see,
not to understand,
and not to know.
But I do see.
I do understand.
I know.
- Synced and corrected by Firefly - - www.MY-SUBS.com -
People are asking,
"Is this pope porcelain or steel?"
All this fanfare over Pius XIII has made quite an impression
on the masses.
It's indispensable to refocus attention on you.
I intend to make an extraordinary overture.