Tear Along the Dotted Line (2021) s01e04 Episode Script

1
A NETFLIX SERIES
["Strappati Lungo i Bordi"
by Giancane plays]
[cricket chirping]
Hey! I don't pay you to be a nuisance!
-Action in three, two…
-[clears throat]
The other day, I found my CV
that I sent to companies
about ten, 15 years ago.
I read through it thinking, "Wow!
Look at all that stuff I did!"
It was the profile
of a versatile professional.
[barking]
Okay, I was young, but I had
a wide range of experience.
There was some good quality stuff,
some big gigs.
[man] Houston, we have a problem.
[Zero] I got emotional looking
at how great and versatile I was.
Then I remembered
that it was all bullshit.
The truth is, I never got a job
because no one replied.
And so the armadillo said…
And who gives a shit?
Just make stuff up
so you look like a real artist.
Someone might fall for it.
Yeah, okay
But what if they check if it's true?
You need to stay hidden in the shadows.
Say things they can't possibly check.
Like that you were an art director
at a company on the Jakarta seafront
and the tsunami washed it away.
Capitalism's main weakness
is it will believe anything.
There's no time to check everyone out.
It's vulnerable…
to lies.
[Zero] Anyway, I sent out
a ton of those CVs,
and the process of applying for jobs meant
I was perpetually swinging both ways
on an existential pendulum of ambivalence.
On the one hand, I was depressed
and felt like a failure
'cause no one ever got back to me.
And so I convinced myself
that finding work by distributing my CV
was a huge farce, that only served
to prevent everyone from going crazy
and planning mass shootings
like Bowling and Columbine.
[man gulps]
Maybe that worked in the past,
but now this country is rotten.
To get work, you have to get
your mum, uncle or a friend
to introduce you to their boss.
You're vaguely required
to have anthropomorphic characteristics
and then they see
if they can fit you in somewhere,
as long as you don't bother
the other employees too much.
But since I'm a sociopath
with useless friends
and come from a long line of sociopaths,
there was no one to snag me a job.
So I waited for the light
of the temp job archangel
to shine down on me.
PERMANENT CONTRAC
The other side
of the pendulum of ambivalence
was when someone actually called me back.
And you'd think, "Fine. At least
this gives you faith in the system."
"You should be euphoric."
But no! I was a real mess.
Because it meant that I had to reply,
and show up!
I had to put a big smile on my face
because you can't go in not smiling,
like an ungrateful shit.
But they were always jobs
I didn't give a shit about, like…
You seem perfect
for delivering a free paper
to every optician in the city centre
about the under-reported risks
of counterfeit sunglasses
bought at street markets.
[man groans]
[Zero] Basically, I spent my time
looking for work because I needed money,
but when I did get a job,
I'd rather die than actually do it.
Which is the same way that at least
three billion people on this planet
live their lives.
One day, whilst I was complaining,
Sarah asked…
So you're sending out all these CVs.
What job do you actually want?
What kind of question is that?
I wanna do something
that pays my rent and bills, a normal job.
So why the hell are you complaining
about delivering newspapers?
When my work offered me the job,
I wanted to die too, you know?
But that's because I'm waiting
to qualify as a teacher.
That's what I've studied for
my entire life.
But instead, I'm selling toilet brushes.
What's your actual goal in life?
[Zero] The question throws me.
The truth is I don't have any goals.
I know perfectly well
that sending out CVs is just an exercise,
something that lets me to present myself
as though I'm a responsible
participating member of society.
So if someone asks my mother…
What does your son do?
…she can reply…
He's sending out lots of CVs.
[Zero] Which is better than…
He spends his time wanking
and stuffing his face with cake all day.
But searching for jobs
had absolutely nothing to do
with fulfilling any lofty goals for me.
I subconsciously hoped that one day
a huge catastrophe would happen,
so catastrophic that someone would say…
All right, guys.
The whole job thing is finished.
Now a new historic age has begun,
we have to team up into groups of bandits
for the next 200 years.
We're gonna need two attackers,
a goalkeeper, and someone
who's good at scalping Lazio fans.
I had hoped that this dystopia
would arrive before I turned 50.
-When someone asked Mother…
-What does your son do?
Well, he's sending out CVs
and he's living under a bridge
because he likes the outdoors.
[Zero] That's why I was sending out CVs,
to convince myself that my life
was still following the dotted line.
But I wasn't looking while I was tearing,
because I was scared that if I looked up,
I'd see I was actually miles off the line,
and I was tearing in any direction,
and that the piece of paper
was becoming a huge mess.
There were only two people
that could console me
when I felt like a failure.
One was Secco, who had the advantage
of making me feel
like I have a place in society,
and I'm not a huge fuck-up in comparison.
That's something
society wants you to believe,
but really
people stopped working ages ago.
It started in the Industrial Revolution
and now everyone just plays online poker.
Enrichetto, Federicone and Cannella.
You're just too stubborn
to learn how to play.
[Zero] And the other was Alice,
because she was just like me.
We never spoke openly about it,
but I know that she only stayed at uni
and got a master's degree then a PhD
because she had no fucking idea
what she wanted to do.
She also tried to convince herself
that her life
was following the dotted line
and she kept putting off the moment
that she'd have to look
at the piece of paper.
[robotic] Oh, you're such a little shit.
You only call me
when you need to be reassured
you're not the only failure
who can't find their place.
Fine, but you do the same to me.
So you can remind yourself
there's always someone else
whose compass is broken
and is equally lost.
We'd grown up,
and we didn't have the same feelings
for each other anymore,
so we'd found a balance
that worked even better for me.
With hindsight, I know
that finding emotional stability
in someone else's failures
isn't the best strategy,
but during a storm,
you cling onto whatever you can find.
It's all about me
And no one else today ♪
And start a revolution ♪
[Zero] Anyway, 15 years went by.
In the end, I found a job drawing comics.
I had my own place.
It's a real home,
bigger than anywhere else
I've lived in till now.
And every time she sees it,
my mother says…
This flat could be so nice,
but it's a complete pigsty.
Your home is like a business card,
it's a first impression.
If you don't have control over your home,
you won't have control over your life!
[Zero] I'd like to tell her…
You have no idea
how true that is, Parent One.
Not only have I lost control of this flat,
but I have no authority over it either.
I reign over a portion of the flat
as a whole, which is about 70%,
so after all,
I control the absolute majority.
But the rest of the territory
is fragmented.
You know when people say…
Ah yes, Tito was severe,
but he was the only one that could
bring back unity to the former Yugoslavia.
Yeah, my flat's the same.
But unfortunately, I'm weak
and I couldn't keep the flat as united
as it was when I moved in.
And so, over time,
four kingdoms
have declared their independence.
Each one wants to prevail over the others
and is determined
to conquer the Iron Sofa,
my fortress, laden with crumbs,
a symbol of power,
thanks to its position
in front of the television.
[dragon screeching]
It's the ultimate place
for performing all human activities,
working, eating, sleeping…
Or even pissing,
if you have a bottle nearby.
Shut up, you!
The contenders for the throne
are Cardboard Castle,
which was supposed to be my office,
that mythical place
when you have a spare room
and no idea what to do with it,
so you say…
I'll turn this into my studio!
The punishment for even thinking
of such a bourgeois luxury,
arrogance dripping from every syllable,
was that without even realising it,
the room filled up with moving boxes
full of things
that I have no recollection of,
that are probably completely useless,
given that
in the five years I've lived here,
I've never needed anything in them.
It's not like I've ever thought…
Now where's that robot dog
that plays Beethoven's "Per Elisa"
but with farts when you squeeze its tummy?
At the same time, you feel
you can't throw that stuff out.
You never know
what you might need in the future.
After Coronavirus,
it seems anything is possible.
-[rapid beeping]
-[dramatic music plays]
[heavy breathing]
Oh no!
A terrible dystopic dictatorship
has banned all music,
destroyed every CD,
and shut down YouTube and Spotify!
How will we ever show our children
the beauty of the symphony? [sobs]
[wind howling]
[farting in rhythm of "Per Elisa"]
[Zero] So the boxes stay,
the room can't be used,
but everything in there
is a potential future resource.
Then there's Tangle Trench,
which is next to the TV, and is
the most dangerous part of the flat.
It's where all the cables
from the TV, the satellite box,
the video recorder, the DVD player,
the PlayStation, the Switch, and the Xbox
combine to make one nonsensical mess.
I say nonsensical because, in theory,
these cables shouldn't move.
Nobody really knows
how they get so tangled.
Even if you actively braided them
every day for hours,
you couldn't get them
nearly as tangled. [gasps]
One time, I tried to untangle them.
What an idiot!
I pulled out a plug and the TV fell on me.
I couldn't find the PlayStation cable
because they all look the same.
I wanted to cry. I thought…
Why did I start doing this?
I'll never be able
to plug all this back in!
Meanwhile, a cable slithered up
and around my neck
and a USB plug whispered in my ear…
This is our home!
Get the hell out of here!
[Zero] Ever since, I don't go near it,
but every so often, I see it's grown.
I think it's sucked in
a few phone chargers
and the extension cord for my iron.
Superfluous Landing!
It used to be a table. It was
for eating at, like all other tables.
Now, it's a pile of stuff
that's been attracted by its flat surface
which is perfect for putting things on.
It's impossible to clear,
because none of the various things on it
have a designated place in the flat.
So, even if you want
to bring order to the chaos,
you look at this clay chicken and think…
"Now, where do you go?"
Or this plastic ball
that projects a simulation
of the starry sky onto the ceiling.
I'm not gonna put it in the kitchen
on top of the microwave, am I?
And what about
these 14 boxes of nasal spray?
Or this wooden dinosaur
that was probably painted
by an exploited baby seal
in a zoo in a developing country.
It's sort of a huge refugee camp,
where all the things
that don't have a home have found refuge.
It's the kind of stuff
your mum's talking about when she says…
Sort out the things you want to keep.
Anything left behind tonight,
I'll throw away!
[Zero] That's because
your mother is a real Marshal Tito
and you're a hippy with a big, soft heart.
Every time, the best I can do
is move three books onto the bookshelf.
Actually, one. I need to keep
the other two out. I haven't read them.
I don't want to forget about them.
Inferior Sofa, the last of the fiefs.
It's another sofa, because at first,
I thought I could put them in an L shape
so that when I have people over,
everyone could sit down.
But I've never invited anyone over,
'cause I'm an unsociable hermit
and this is my cathedral of solitude.
So, bit by bit, Sofa Number Two
disappeared under a bunch of crap.
It was a gradual invasion.
I blame myself,
because one day, I thought…
"Okay, I can put my rucksack here."
"If someone wants to sit there,
I can move it."
In reality, however,
what started out as temporary clutter
began building new colonies,
and every time, I'd say…
Okay, enough. The treaty stated
only one cushion up to here! Ow!
Well, face it. We've spread out.
Families live there.
You can't just send them away!
[crying]
So let's make this cushion the new border.
[Zero] And every day, using this excuse,
the border moved an inch further.
And now, the entire sofa is lost.
In the evening, when I let my guard down,
full of milk and snacks, I see it
plotting to take over the Iron Sofa.
-[snarling]
-[dramatic music plays]
I called it that because once,
whilst moving the cushions,
along with the bits of food
and yoghurt pots,
874 pens and pencils,
I found a knife I used to slice ham
that I'd lost four years earlier.
I felt like King Arthur with Excalibur.
[triumphant music plays]
I'm trying to say
that getting control over your own life
isn't simply a state you can achieve
then never think about again,
it's not permanent.
[battle music plays]
It's a constant battle,
and every inch that you conquer
must be defended every day,
or else, as soon as you let
your guard down, you'll lose it all.
-[snarling]
-[creaking]
Anyway, giving up the sofa
is not an option.
I'd rather have a Viking funeral
and burn the whole building down.
-[sirens wailing]
-[fire truck horn blaring]
-[dragon screeching]
-[dramatic music plays]
[birds twittering]
[Zero] Everything is going to plan,
except for smelling like piss,
being covered in grease,
having sweated
for fear of missing the train,
and now being at risk of dying
from the stark contrast of temperatures
outside and inside this train.
My teeth are chattering.
There must be a mistake.
Perhaps we're in
the refrigerated carriage.
It can't possibly be this cold.
Guys, can you feel that?
Am I the only one who's dying?
Nothing. They don't answer
because they're asleep,
oblivious to the fact that this train
might be some type of Noah's Ark
in which a philanthropist recreated
a habitat for polar bear
at risk of extinction,
and we're probably their dinner.
-[snarling]
-[dramatic music plays]
[horn blaring]
Instead, an old woman answers me
and tells me something
that she must've learned
in her 450 years of wisdom.
[swallows loudly]
It's the air conditioning.
Yes, of course it fucking is, madam.
It's 800 degrees outside!
Of course it's the air conditioning!
Or it'd be an interdimensional wormhole
between here and Pluto.
But it should be a rule that
the temperature inside be proportionate
to the temperature outside.
Ah, when you take the train,
you should always take a jacket with you.
[Zero] Her attitude was driving me insane.
Okay, A jacket is all well and good,
but for how cold it is,
it would need to be made of fur.
If it's so hot outside
tarmac is melting on the pavement,
surely we should be able
to board the train
in clothes that are compatible
with the outside world?
[train doors beeping]
[zinging]
If it's just a little cooler inside
so we can breathe, then that's fine.
But it shouldn't be like
entering a parallel universe
where life on Earth is dying out
because the Ice Age has returned.
But I'm talking to myself.
Even the old lady's fallen asleep now.
Why did I bother talking to you?
Old people's internal thermostat break
at a certain age anyway!
That's why you go around
dressed like a mad woman
as if you were crossing the tundra
in Rome in mid-July!
I can feel the other passengers judging me
because I'm attacking
a defenceless old lady.
Or maybe they think I'm overreacting.
But I don't understand
how they aren't dying.
Except they're mostly all
young, yodelling, tourist couples,
so this is like a sauna for them.
Maybe a Viking lobby
has bought the train company
and now they decide
the temperature all trains should be.
[dramatic music plays]
Whatever it is,
this situation is becoming unbearable.
I think I've got hypothermia
and I realise that the people around me
probably aren't asleep.
It's just that their vital functions
have slowed down
because they're hibernating.
Maybe we'll wake up
and it'll be 400 years in the future,
like in Futurama.
I slap myself.
Stay alert, Calcare. Stay alert!
I think about Luke Skywalker
who, in order to survive the night
on the frozen planet,
sliced open that ram-like beast
with his lightsaber
and slept inside the carcass to keep warm.
I look around me, trying to find
something resembling that creature.
But the only creature big enough
for me to crawl inside is a 300-pound nun.
But to be honest, she doesn't seem
like she'd be up for it.
She has a scary face.
I'm not sure I'd win.
Luke Skywalker had a lightsaber.
I only have my bare hands,
and I don't want the nun
to end up wearing me like a scarf.
[thudding]
That's it, I'm going the toilet.
A narrow cubicle full of urine
is bound to be warmer than this.
[lock clicks]
[sighs]
You do know why you can't stop
obsessively talking about how cold it is?
Yes. I was really hot then really cold,
which makes me ill,
I have sensitive adenoids.
Calcare, my job as your conscience
is to prod you to see if you know
why you're really talking about the cold.
After that, we can do what we want
you can pretend nothing happened.
Oh my God! Okay. All right.
I know, I know, I know.
You have to say it.
Because otherwise I have to think
about where we're going.
Okay, then. That's great.
The subject is aware.
He can therefore resume
his endless pantomime.
Okay, what now?
Shall we light a fire and get warm?
[Zero] You should never
admit things out loud.
It's guaranteed to ruin the fun.
["Black Water" by Apparat plays]
…keep a slender hope… ♪
[brakes squeal]
Until they spread above the stone ♪
Until they spread above the stone ♪
I pulled the trigger by mistake ♪
Floundering at the aftermath ♪
Slowly recognise the scale ♪
[soft rock music plays]