Lidia: [reading from a piece of paper] "When I awoke this morning, you were still asleep. As I slowly emerged from my slumber, I heard your gentle breathing and through the wisps of hair over your face I saw your closed eyes and I could barely contain my emotion. I wanted to cry out, to wake you up, because you slept so deeply, you almost seemed lifeless. In the half light, the skin of your arms and throat appeared so vibrant, so warm and dry that I longed to press my lips against it, but the thought of disturbing your sleep, of you awake in my arms again, held me back. I preferred you like this, something on one could take from me bacause it was mine alone - - this image of you that would be everlasting. Beyond your face I saw my own reflection in a vision that was pure and deep. I saw you in a dimension that encompassed all the times of my life, all the years to come, even the years past as I was preparing to meet you. That was the little miracle of this waking moment: to feel for the first time that you were and always would be mine and that this night would go on forever with you beside me, - with the warmth of your blood, your thoughts, and your will mixed with mine. At that moment, I realized how much I loved you, Lidia, and the intensity of the emotion was such that tears welled up in my eyes. For I felt that this must never end, that all our lives should be like an echo of this dawn, with you no belonging to me but actually a part of me, something breathing within me that could could ever destroy except the apathy of habit, which is the only threat I see. Then you awoke and with a sleepy smile, kissed me, and I felt there was nothing to fear that we'd always be as we were at that moment, bound by something stronger than time and habit."
Giovanni: Who wrote that?

Lidia: You did.
Giovanni: I no longer have inspirations, only recollections.
Mr. Gherardini: So as I was saying, my friend, it's absurd to speak of wealth now. No one's wealthy anymore. But should anyone still think of becoming rich, my only advice would be, "Don't worry about the money." I've always looked upon my businesses as works of art. Whatever profit I earned was of practically no concern to me. The important thing is to create something solid; something to be remembered.

Signora Gherardini: But darling, not everyone can create something lasting.

Mr. Gherardini: Please, do you mind? What sustains a writer - you for instance - is certainly not the idea of profit but a sense of necessity. You write because you have to...

Signora Gherardini: Still, one has to live.

Mr. Gherardini: I never worried about that. Life is what we make of it through our own efforts. What would you do if you couldn't write?

Lidia: A few years ago he'd have killed himself. Now I don't know. Tell us.

Giovanni: I don't consider myself that important. There are other solutions. A writer of today constantly wonders if writing isn't some sort of irrepressible but outdated instinct. This lonely craft of painstakingly joining one word to another that absolutely can't be mechanized.

Mr. Gherardini: Are you sure of that?

Giovanni: No. But you industrialists have the advantage of constructing your "stories" using real people, real houses, real cities. The rhythm of life today is in your hands. Perhaps even the future.

Lidia: My husband's having a particularly bad day.

Giovanni: I guess so.

Mr. Gherardini: Are you one of the many worrying about the future? I'm building my own future, though the present keeps me plenty busy. Besides, the future will probably never come.

Signora Gherardini: The future will be awful, don't you think?
Tommaso Garani: Lidia, you're looking very well.

Lidia: Marcella wanted to come, but I thought...

Tommaso Garani: You were right. I'd rather not see anyone. It's amazing how tired you get of pretending at a certain point.
Tommaso Garani: So many things become clear when you're all alone.
Tommaso Garani: There's still so much to do. I feel like I watched from the sidelines when I should have been more involved. I lacked the courage to go all the way. I console myself with the thought I wasn't smart enough anyway.
Tommaso Garani: A little self-criticism is good. It helps put things in perspective and gives you courage.
Giovanni: You bought it? I wanted to bring you a copy.

Tommaso Garani: I didn't just buy it. I'm reading it too. I've only read 50 pages so far. I hope they'll let me finish it. I like certain parts very much, like the whole thing about the bath. It's your best work ever, if the morphine hasn't warped my judgment. Morphine makes everything seem important.

Giovanni: Then it's definitely the morphine.
Tommaso Garani: Quite a place, eh? Everything I used to hate in terms of style. I never thought I'd end my days in such luxury. I feel like a fraud.
Tommaso Garani: Soon hospitals will look just like nightclubs. People want a good time right to the very end. Ah, the champagne.
Tommaso Garani: That lovely creature's only job is to cheer up the sick. She can't do anything. She's just beautiful. But sometimes beauty can really be depressing.
Lidia: Every millionaire wants his own intellectual.
Giovanni: Life would be tolerable if not for its pleasures.

Lidia: Is that your line?

Giovanni: No, I no longer have ideas. Only memories.
Beatrice: Don't stare at me like that. I know I'm showing signs of aging. You've improved a lot, you know. You use to be so plain. You don't mind me saying that, do you?

Lidia: I've heard it many times.
Lidia: Are you married?

Beatrice: No. I live alone. I was born to be alone. I'm too sensitive, as my dentist used to say.
Beatrice: The pool looks beautiful. Remember Grimaldi? I still see her.

Lidia: No. Please, let's forget the past.
Party Girl: Should I jump into the pool?

Signora Gherardini: Naked or dressed?
Beatrice: Stop sending me postcards. I'm green with envy.
Mr. Gherardini: Look who's here. Our patroness from Rome. Mr. Pontano, this is Marquise Gentili. She works with orphanages. Do you smoke?

Marquise Gentili: I will have one. Everyone smokes here in Milan.
Miss Resy: I'm your greatest admirer in Italy. You must allow me that privilege.

Giovanni: Why not?

Miss Resy: I'd like a novel about a woman who loves a man but the man doesn't love her. But, he does admire her intelligence, her character. They live together. But, how could such a story end?

Giovanni: In so many ways.

Miss Resy: She'd have to be a strong woman, who can sacrifice herself. She sacrifices herself for another woman's happiness.

Giovanni: Why does she sacrifice herself?

Miss Resy: I don't know. It makes me want to cry.
Mr. Gherardini: Who knows what the future holds? Perhaps our privileges will be swept away. That would actually be a good thing. When I was young - long ago, now, sadly - I imagined a world like this, and I set to work creating such a future. Bah!
Valentina Gherardini: That was not ruthless enough.

Giovanni: Show me what you can do.
Giovanni: Do you enjoy acting the cynic?

Valentina Gherardini: No.
Valentina Gherardini: You only worry about losers. A typical intellectual. Egotistic, but compassionate.
Giovanni: This isn't a racetrack and don't take me for a horse.

Valentina Gherardini: Is there a friskier horse?
Giovanni: Valentina, I'm rather disappointed.

Valentina Gherardini: In me? How can I put that right? Shall we read a few pages together?

Giovanni: That would be one way of getting closer.

Valentina Gherardini: Are you craving for affection?

Giovanni: Aren't you?
Giovanni: Don't forget.

Valentina Gherardini: My memory seems to get worse every day.
Miss Resy: Tell me something.

Giovanni: I'll tell you a bedtime story later.

Miss Resy: Pretend I'm in bed.

Giovanni: No, later, I"ll tell you about a hermit, an intellectual, of course. He drank only dew, until he came to the city where he tasted wine and became an alcoholic. How's that?

Miss Resy: I'd like a true story about you.

Giovanni: Worse has happened to me.

Miss Resy: I wish I could understand writers.
Giovanni: You want to understand only writers?

Miss Resy: No, others, too.

Giovanni: I think you'll have your hands full.
Valentina Gherardini: I felt miserable this evening, but, our game cheered me up. Now the misery is creeping back like a melancholic dog. Have you got a cigarette?
Valentina Gherardini: I think love restricts a person. It creates misunderstanding all around. But not within.
Giovanni: Sentiment is back in style even in novels these days.

Valentina Gherardini: I see, you're gathering material tonight.

Giovanni: No, I don't think I'll ever be able to write again.
Giovanni: I know what to write, but how? It's a crisis affecting many writers today. But in my case, it's something secret inside affecting my whole life.

Valentina Gherardini: You're just weak, like me. Why are you telling me this? I may not understand. After all, I like golf, tennis, cars, parties.

Giovanni: Nothing else? Isn't there anything else?

Valentina Gherardini: Yes. Everything.
Valentina Gherardini: Promise not to make fun of me?

Giovanni: I promise.

Valentina Gherardini: [turns on tape recorder] From the living room today you could hear dialogue from a film on television: 'If I were you, I wouldn't do that, Jim.' After that, the howling of a dog rising in a perfect arc and trailing off in great sadness. Then I thought I heard a plane, but there was silence - and I was glad. A garden's silence is made of sounds. Press your ear to a tree and listen - after a while you'll hear a sound. Perhaps it comes from within us, I'd rather think it's the tree. Within that silence were strange noises that disturbed the soundscape around me. I closed the window, but the noises persisted. I thought I'd go crazy. I don't want to hear useless sounds. I want to pick them out throughout the day. Same with voices and words. So many words I'd rather not hear, but you can't escape them. You must resign yourself to them like the waves when you float on your back in the ocean."
Valentina Gherardini: I don't have some overpowering vocation. Besides, Mother says scribbling indoors all day ruins the complexion.

Giovanni: It's a sin to waste such intelligence.

Valentina Gherardini: I'm not intelligent. I have a sharp eye. That's different. Observe things is enough. I needn't write about them. Last year I went to the United States to see Julia.

Giovanni: Who's Julia?

Valentina Gherardini: A hurricane.
Valentina Gherardini: Whenever I try to communicate - love disappears.
Roberto: Our time, sir, is vile and anti-philosophical, afraid to take a stand on values. As for democracy, in a nutshell, it means: take things as they come.
Valentina Gherardini: Confessions aren't my strong point anyway. In fact, I wonder what is? Not love, not vices. I've plenty of vices, but I hardly practice them. I don't even like whiskey.

Lidia: [takes the whiskey] Well, I think I've found the vice that suits me. It's nice and warm.
Lidia: How old are you?

Valentina Gherardini: Twenty-two - and many, many months.

Lidia: You don't know how it feels when the years with on you and no longer make any sense. Tonight I just feel like dying. I really do. At least this agony would end and something new would begin.

Valentina Gherardini: It may be nothing.

Lidia: True. It may be nothing.
Lidia: There was no jealousy in the things I said. Not the slightest bit. That's the whole trouble.
Valentina Gherardini: You've exhausted me, the pair of you.
Lidia: He never talked about himself. Only me - me - me. And I never understood. I thought so little of myself.
Lidia: When we're young, we're so stupid, we can't imagine things coming to an end.
Giovanni: I never gave you anything. I was completely unaware. I go on wasting my life, like a fool, taking without giving or giving too little.
Lidia: I used to spend afternoons reading in bed. Tommaso would call and find me there. He could have kissed me. I wouldn't have resisted, out of boredom. But he was satisfied to watch me as I read. All those purposeless books.
Giovanni: I've been selfish. It's strange to realize only now that what we give to others comes back to us.
Mr. Gherardini: It's what you say that counts, not your intention.

La Notte Quotes

Extended Reading

La Notte short comments

Melyssa 2022-03-28 09:01:08

Anthony Orr's next interpretation of love. I'm still young, so I can't understand the details and subtleties, the betrayal of the mid-life crisis, the love letter, and the unusual calmness. I don't know what the deep meaning is behind it. The movie is a little depressing.
Crystel 2022-03-28 09:01:08

9.5/10. ① Talking about the various lives of middle-class male and female protagonists in a day. It shows that their passion for marriage and love no longer derails their thoughts and behaviors; ② It still uses various landscapes, wonderful compositions generated by spatial structures, modern noises, etc. to express the alienation of the characters. Such as the sound of airplanes, the sound of rockets, various ruined building landscapes, barren grasslands (the end), the composition of the use of space when the heroine travels the city alone, etc.; ③ The use of glass to show alienation: such as the elevator descending at the beginning The city on the reflective glass in the viewpoint shot, the room where the male protagonist enters the small three-throw box at the party; ④ As always, a large number of high-level scheduling: keywords include deep focus shots, long-running shots, no front and back shots (such as the male protagonist and the mistress). The indoor scene and the conversation scene between the male and female protagonists at the end); ⑤ The light and shadow flow between the male protagonist and Xiaosan driving in the rain is very good, and the backlighting in this is very good to set off the ambiguity.