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My father was a migrant worker.
Every four years, he'd be assigned to a new worksite.
Each time, we had to move.
I hated all those moves.
Arriving once again in an unknown city,
I would lock myself in my room as a protest.
My only friends
were the modeling clay, glue, scissors, and pencil.
What will you do, later on?
Something with my hands. Maybe I'll go to art school.
Art is not for us.
Get a job at the post office, and paint on Sundays.
You have to work with your head, not your hands.
When I was a kid, my father's hands fascinated me.
He'd shape the wax cheese rind,
conjuring up foxes, birds, or butterflies.
Today, I feel the magic of these shapes, in my hands,
telling a story,
a story from far, far away.
My father used to say that in Italy,
there's a village called Ughettera.
Everyone there has the same name as ours.
Ughettera, the land of the Ughetto.
It all started here, in the shadow of Mount Viso.
My grandfather and grandmother lived in a house like this one.
Today, the roofs have caved in on their peasant abodes.
Trees flourish where they made charcoal.
What happened?
I wish I'd known my grandfather, Luigi.
My grandmother Cesira was a familiar figure.
I remember the lady dressed in black that I called Granny.
Seeing her old home,
I realized that before she was Granny,
my grandmother was Cesira,
young and beautiful.
She had been desired and loved.
What a beautiful scarf!
In Ughettera,
they told me Piedmontese women wore these aprons and skirts to work.
You went to Ughettera?
There's nothing left of them.
I brought you everything I found.
Mainly, you wanted land, right?
Ah, land was everything.
The land kept us alive.
We were hungry for land,
We made terrible sacrifices to buy a piece of land.
In Ughettera, there wasn't much.
The steep fields were scattered.
And Luigi? What was he like?
Ah, Luigi...
He was a handsome man.
Solid.
Strong.
With beautiful hands.
In those days, poor men were not ragged,
They did not beg for pennies.
They lived modestly and were satisfied.
Antonio, come on!
Wake up!
Giuseppe!
Luigi was the second of eleven children.
Dad, wake up!
Come on, Mom!
Eleven children?
There were kids everywhere.
This land is good. You could eat it.
The kids' legs were scraped from climbing trees looking for nests.
It was the only way to eat a little meat.
At home, to welcome people we love,
we brew coffee.
Your coffee is powerful!
You have the same hands as Luigi.
Amazing, Luigi!
He's good!
But what did you eat?
In Ughettera,
they ate what they had.
The mother made polenta with milk,
and the father made them eat it with a fork,
so the milk dribbled away.
But that's all in the past.
Why do you want to know?
I wanted to go to Italy with my father,
to hear about Ughettera, your lives, the stories.
Ask your questions.
Didn't the children go to school?
School came after the fields, after the seasonal work.
I have to sweep up!
Calm down, kids!
Luigi didn't go to school either?
Antonio, you imbecile!
Sometimes he did.
He could write a little, for official documents.
But he was eager to learn.
I taught him his first words of French.
Are they building the house?
We're going to make a nice, big, solid house!
You said it!
At home, we all lived in one room.
We slept in the barn all year round.
Yes, here people are born, live and die in the stables.
Didn't the mayor or priest try to help?
Ah, the priest...
To be in the priest's good graces people gave him the pick of the crop.
Not a single priest died of hunger in Ughettera, believe me.
Turn the crank under the table.
Truth be told, the priests always ruled our rural villages.
If he hadn't blessed your house, he claimed you were a godless person.
If you were a woman, he told people you were a witch, "une masca".
And people believed him.
They were afraid of the masca.
The villagers shunned those poor old women.
Their plight was most miserable.
The mascas were blamed for every misfortune: storms, hail,
bad harvests, the diseases, the accidents,
children who died, it was all the masca's fault.
And the priest let people gossip. Of course! He encouraged superstition.
What have you found, Giuseppe?
Look!
A mandolin.
Dance, dance, dance!
Come and see!
Dance, dance!
Come on, dance!
Dance, dance, dance!
- Is that a real cow? - No, it is not real!
It's nice and plump!
A cow that doesn't make milk!
Where did you find it, Luigi?
In the box.
Cow, give milk.
But it's a toy!
The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
We can't survive the winter.
We'll starve. All we have to eat is chestnuts.
We must leave before snow blocks the pass.
Get ready to go!
They don't have enough food for everyone, and winter's coming.
- Send them potatoes. - Just one, then.
Here, give it to them.
- How about another? - No.
Look, they already have a swollen belly !
One day, a young man
found a pot full of boiled potatoes.
He ate and ate.
He's hallucinating!
His stomach was swollen.
His buddy warned him, "Careful! You'll die."
And there he stayed, a potato in his mouth, dead.
We all had thin, fragile guts.
There were no jobs at home.
Every winter before the snow, half the population went to France.
Chimney sweep, ragman, lighterman, cobbler...
The Italians would do the hardest jobs.
Listen to what this French newspaper says:
"What characterizes the Italian worker is his flexibility.
"We can make him do whatever we want.
"These workers have no personal dignity.
"They endure everything.
"Told to start work when the bell rings, they obey, heads bowed."
What a beautiful evening!
I'm still a little hungry.
Any of you men want to work?
Yes.
Do you sleep late?
No.
Do you smoke?
No.
Do you have any papers?
Yes.
You have shovels and picks?
Yes.
Be ready early tomorrow morning.
Impossible! What about the children?
Children went to Barcelonnette, in the Basses-Alpes.
For the weekly children's market.
There were always 300 or 400 boys and girls, 10 or 12 years old.
By 10 AM, the market was deserted.
The kids had all been rented.
But that's horrible!
Yes.
But that's how it was.
Luigi didn't like it, but everyone did it.
Take that, you beast!
Antonio! You imbecile!
Goodbye, little one.
Take care of yourself.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, Luigi!
Goodbye. Goodbye, children!
Where else did they go?
Wherever there was work. Switzerland, France.
As if there weren't any mountains between us.
They dug a tunnel under Mount Viso,
"Buco di Viso."
Luigi was there.
Go look in the box at the back.
Did you find it?
Do you see Luigi?
The one with the hat!
You were telling me the three brothers got jobs.
But when and where?
It was around 1899-1900.
They were hired on the Simplon construction site.
A railway tunnel between Italy and Switzerland.
What do you do to wear such holes in your socks?
You were saying they worked at Simplon?
Yes, the Simplon tunnel
was an enormous project.
Before drilling the tunnel, they had to build the road.
After a two-day hike up the mountain,
Luigi, Giuseppe, and Antonio started work.
Is that the lunch siren?
The wops got blown up!
They could at least warn us.
- For sure. - What was that?
Why didn't you go to America?
Where dollars grow on trees?
Luigi was 20 years old, Giuseppe 18, Antonio 17.
My father worked at Simplon as a foreman.
Sometimes I would go up to see him.
That's where I met Luigi.
I liked him as soon as I saw him.
It was fate.
My parents did not look favorably on our marriage.
Since Luigi was from the mountain and they from the plain, they wept.
"If only he was from down here,
"but he is from up there!
"Will you go live up there?"
My mother lamented,
"With nothing, you'll make a thin soup."
Cheers to all!
My stomach is going to explode!
With all our savings,
Luigi and I went to the jeweler.
He said, "Pick out what you want."
I chose something fairly modest,
thinking of the future, and our common interest.
A beautiful double gold chain, with a silver pocket watch.
And this gold band, thin and worn now from work.
- Look. - It's beautiful.
I'm as hungry as a wolf!
You will rest at the table!
Food's ready. Time to eat!
Time to eat!
It's ready!
Tonight, I've made you gnocchi with tomato sauce.
The farmer sees money once a year,
but the worker is paid weekly.
Construction work is dangerous.
They filled the holes with stones.
They're rushing. They're paid by the task.
The family was growing.
Now I was afraid.
- Who got hurt? - An Italian.
The fifth, this morning.
Go to work, hurry up!
- This coffee wakes you up! - It's strong!
When the road was finished, Luigi went to work in the tunnel.
Sometimes they even worked at night.
A hard life.
The air was bad, the heat was stifling.
When they hit springs, the tunnel was flooded.
The water might be freezing, or it might be hot.
How do we do it, Luigi?
We'll show them how we work in Piedmont.
The engineer will be happy.
Is it a gift from Cesira?
It keeps your sleeves clean.
It's cleaner.
Our daughter was born there, in Switzerland,
at the foot of Mt. Simplon.
We wanted to give her a French name.
We called her Marie-Cecile.
How beautiful she is!
Come to Papa, Marie-Cecile.
And then one day, the work was finished.
We will return to Italy, to Ughettera.
I'll introduce you to my family.
Luigi was like one of those pigeons that always return home.
Arturo!
Costanza!
Alcide!
Luigi!
Oh my children! You have come back!
Oh my dear Luigi!
Cesira.
Marie-Cecile.
My name is Costanza.
But who is she?
It's Luisa!
Luisa. Her father had gone to America; her mother had died.
They'd taken her in.
Giuseppe sure is acting weird.
At first, we had food, and a little money left over.
I could say the plates were full.
We don't play with food.
And we share it.
I just came by to say hello. Is everything okay?
The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
That thief!
Luigi was the only one who saw through the priest.
We all got to work.
That was the most important thing.
Pants made to measure!
For you, Mamma.
He loves me,
he loves me not,
He loves me,
he loves me not,
He loves me,
he loves me not...
He loves me.
He loves me!
It's the mailman!
But they didn't work for long.
The postman read the letter: "A glorious page for Italy."
Bye, Luigi!
In 1911, they went to war in Africa.
One, two, three, four...
What did we know about war?
Nothing! We were ignorant.
They said it was small matter and would be settled quickly.
An officer warned them, but they didn't listen.
They thought it was a joke.
In Syracuse, they were loaded onto an old ship like livestock.
Cockroaches and lice pounced on them and devoured them.
The boat spat out a herd of louse-ridden weaklings in Libya.
At home, the men's work
had to be done.
Look out!
Giuseppina!
- Slow down! - Help me!
Oh my God!
Oh poor thing!
I wanted to call the doctor.
No, it costs too much. We'd have to sell the cow.
In Ughettera, the bonesetter pulled teeth and fixed fractures.
He was the doctor, the surgeon, everything.
Giuseppina was not better. She was in pain.
Maybe the masca would have a cure.
The masca was also close to death, but could not die
until someone took her hand and inherited her power.
No, I don't want it!
Neither do I!
Cesira, you take her hand!
I don't want her power either.
The masca was dead.
So was Giuseppina.
When it snowed, people said
"Happy are those with bread and polenta."
Every winter, we had to shovel the snow off the road.
All the villages sent volunteers to do that.
It's not time yet.
I'm thinking of our men.
Cesira, the song said "Tripoli, beautiful land of love,
"Tripoli, enchanted land,
"You will be Italian by cannon blast."
No way!
There was sand in our soup bowls and pots,
sand in our eyes and in the air we breathed.
The only water was briny.
The Bedouins were slaughtered.
Antonio!
Our men were slaughtered by the thousands.
We were the ones from the unknown destination.
Dad!
Ida.
She's so beautiful!
Come to Papa, Ida!
Antonio was 19 years old.
One, two, three, four, five...
Watch out, children!
I'm having another child.
I don't know how we'll feed it.
I don't understand! Speak Italian, Luigi.
In those days, people liked to meet.
It was common to party in the barn.
Laughing and singing didn't cost much.
After Libya, Giuseppe spoke only of love.
He and Luisa were both in a hurry to marry.
How will I feed another child?
Giotto!
Go get help!
Leave me alone!
All right, I'm going!
Stop, thief!
Ah, it's you.
Irma.
What a beautiful baby!
Come to Papa, Irma.
This man is crazy!
Mail!
The good times did not last long.
In 1915,
the war came back to take our men.
It's always the farmers who are sent off to war.
They were obedient, and easy to satisfy.
They all left reluctantly, though.
Many made themselves ill to avoid going.
They drank tobacco tea
and put weird things into their ears.
Many died as a result.
My valley is next to Mount Viso.
My village is there,
and my children.
Cesira is there.
I worked like a man.
I thought to myself:
"This will never end."
Giuseppe! What are you doing? Come back here Giuseppe!
Writing to Giuseppe, Luisa filled her letters with lies.
She told him we were fine, that the harvest was plentiful,
that the work was light.
And Giuseppe answered her with a lot of other lies.
Military life is a paradise.
We eat meat. We're far from combat.
Mail!
Cesira, in the trenches,
we suffer and fret so much we're not even hungry.
We mount an attack like goats headed for a salt lick.
The men leap over the trenches reciting the rosary.
They die like flies.
We live underground like moles.
This is sheer hell.
Giuseppe!
In 1918, the Spanish flu epidemic killed more people than the war.
In Ughettera, half the family was taken away by the disease.
Giuseppe was 20 years old when he died.
What can I say?
We had so many people to mourn we ran out of tears.
Marie-Cecile!
Ida!
Irma!
Nino.
The kids didn't know who he was.
Luigi couldn't sleep for four months.
Nino.
It's a beautiful name.
It must be said that during the war, some people got rich.
Not us.
We were broke.
Cesira, let's go to America.
I'll work in the mines in Michigan, and you can sew.
There, dollars grow on trees. You just reach up and pick them.
L'America!
La Merica!
We sold the gold chain and the silver pocket watch.
We bought a sewing machine. The best.
The first ship sailed with our freight. We were to board the next.
We had nothing left.
We took the train with some Italians who were leaving to work in Ariege.
We settled in a village in the plain.
The children discovered French at school.
The first words they learned
were "Son of a bitch macaroni."
Watch the birdie!
Let me get this straight. By then, how many kids had you had?
- Marie-Cecile in Switzerland... - Ida, Irma, and Nino in Italy.
And in France, we had three more.
We gave them French names:
Marcelle, Vincent, your father, and Rene.
And he said
"Listen up, Witch! I forgive you.
"But swear that you will never do any harm
"to me
"or my descendants.
"If not, I will dip all of you in boiling water!"
Tell us another story, Papa! A scary one.
That time, the witches...
I can tell you that Luigi was happy.
You have to go.
Next.
Italian?
Yes.
- Do you have any papers? - Yes.
- Do you speak French? - Yes.
- Can you build a wall? - Yes.
Show me.
You will be a mason.
Next.
Watch the birdie!
What happened?
Nino, Marcelle! Stop it, immediately.
No !
Alain, can you take care of your father?
Here, Papa. Play mason with the trowel and calm down.
France needed laborers.
Italians were in great demand.
This is what the newspapers wrote:
"Almost all the Italian workers come from small villages in the Alps.
"They're used to high altitude sites, the biting cold, the icy wind.
"The Italian labor crews have little or no interest in politics."
Politics? That's all they talked about on the construction sites.
Fascism was taking root.
In Italian villages, all the scoundrels, by ambition or by interest,
had become fascists.
It was convenient for them to give orders.
They burned my house down in mid-winter.
Look at the blows on my head!
They stole everything from me.
Police are the ones behaving this way!
- Good morning, lads! - Good morning.
Luigi and the other workers were housed in barracks on-site,
built before the work began.
According to the management, these were sturdy buildings
to protect the workers from wind and cold.
France's factories needed electricity.
In the southwest,
Izourt Dam was to be the centerpiece of the infrastructure.
Oh, Ughetto!
We need laborers. Can you find some?
In Italy, if you want, I can.
I was against it.
I didn't want him to go.
I was afraid the fascists would beat him, jail him, and kill him...
In Italy, men were eager to flee fascism and go to work in France.
Luigi found them everywhere.
He recruited everyone he could.
Hello Luigi!
Then he went home.
You are rich, my son.
In Ughettera, there was a fascist, a bastard,
a violent man who let terror reign.
He used to help himself, like the priest.
Wait, Luigi.
Fascism is not just about castor oil and the bludgeon.
Look, Papa.
Look at my land.
Very good!
That could have been the last time I saw my father.
I didn't know how to say goodbye.
The fascist, that bastard,
went to Giuseppe's house to rape Luisa.
Slowly, slowly.
Shame on you!
What have you done?
Go hide that rifle. Come with me to France.
Go to hell!
In the morning, in Ughettera,
two Fascist Party officials went to investigate.
The walls are made of cardboard.
It's just a toy!
Castor oil?
They don't need it.
They're all crazy here.
Help me, I'm locked in!
Let's go.
As they left, they said:
"The party doesn't like it when citizens start killing people.
"They'd rather see us die from a simple hunting accident.
"It's the Lord's fault, and everyone is happy."
It's dangerous.
Take up arms!
We are safe!
Long live liberty!
Can you build a wall?
Show me.
Both of you will be laborers.
Luigi, you will be foreman.
To get hired, some workers tried to bribe him with gifts.
You. If I take your gift, I should give you work,
but not the others?
Take your rabbit and go.
He spent all of his first paycheck as a foreman on gifts.
Watch the birdie!
Liar. I don't see a bird.
The doctor came.
He said, "Don't worry, it's a malignant fever. It'll go away."
Cesira, why are you crying?
Because of Ida?
She was barely 17 years old.
Fascist nuns used to visit the site to spread propaganda
to the Italian workers.
They said that in the name of Mussolini,
you had to love Italy more than anything else.
One even said to Luigi:
"Don't forget that you were raised on Mussolini's bread!"
I am from Piedmont.
Italy is Mussolini's land, but France feeds me.
So France is dearer to me than Italy.
Ida's death...
Fascist nuns on the site... Luigi couldn't take it anymore.
We heard that a big project was starting in Genissiat, in Haute-Savoie.
We left.
Luigi and I have known many departures.
This one was different.
Luigi said nothing, but I knew we wouldn't be returning to Italy.
And I knew he knew it.
"No dogs or Italians allowed."
Why did they write that, Papa?
Why?
Because they're afraid the dogs will bite the Italians.
So they ask us not to enter.
So as not to be bitten.
But we Italians are not afraid of dogs.
We love dogs!
Come on kids, let's go!
We still have a long way to go.
We rented a house next to the construction site.
With all our savings,
we bought the land around it.
Land...
All ours.
France was joyful.
celebrating the Popular Front.
As for us, we called our land "Paradise".
Not because it was, but because it had to become Paradise.
We had suffered enough as it was.
Children, don't touch that.
This clock is the soul of the house.
Let's eat!
Luigi had fulfilled his dream.
He was now a property owner.
Padrone.
Hey Cesira, how about making us one of your risottos?
There's the dam!
Come down from there, you fool!
Shut up, you son-of-a-bitch macaroni!
You're the macaroni.
I was born in France.
In the suburbs, the event of the day
is the start of the Grand Tour de France.
Admiring every stage of the race,
Each has a favorite To pin his hopes on!
But these racers will have to fight hard
Keeping the hope of winning at heart
- My father's grown! - It's the polenta.
He eats it daily, like bread.
A little to the right.
A little to the left.
Take it down slowly.
Turn it!
What do you want?
Turn it! The other way!
Luigi had gotten Vincent hired on the site.
When will he turn it?!
What's he saying?
Vincent was only 16.
What do you want?
These Italians.
Like this!
Why didn't you say so?
12mm wrench!
Tighten it hard.
Crescent wrench!
Add bolts, so that it's sturdy.
Hammer!
- I don't have it. - I'm the one who has it. Here.
Marcelle, Irma, Marie-Cecile, come inside!
Mama, look! We ground the coffee beans.
Has anyone seen my polenta pot?
Who took my polenta pot?
The next time we sing
When cherries are ripe
Ah, that Vincent!
His hands are a regular toolbox.
What are you doing, Vincent?
You'll see tonight.
Are you ready?
Yes, go ahead!
I want to read!
Move. I'm going to make gnocchi.
Yoo hoo! Anyone home?
They could have left me something to eat.
The girls were all grown up.
They were old enough to choose husbands.
The house seemed quite empty all of a sudden.
What's up? You guys play with food now?
Causson is the champion!
We'll put some music on for you.
Beautiful music.
I don't like it when he tinkers silently.
In these times when the fate of Europe is being decided,
France speaks to us through the voice of all those
who have accepted, if necessary, the supreme sacrifice.
- Is war coming? - No.
There have been enough wars as it is. They'll settle it.
Like thousands of others, on June 18, 1939,
we were hastily naturalized.
Now we were all French.
Luigi became Louis.
Nino, a letter for you!
Gerard?
Nino!
No, my name is Gerard.
Nino's injury took weeks to heal.
Our soldiers and the French people as a whole agree...
Nino!
Time went on, but Nino did not.
He was 23 years old.
Genissiat was right on the border between the free and occupied zones.
To escape from compulsory labor in Germany, Vincent went underground.
He joined the Resistance.
If you get caught, it's over. Pull the pin.
I want to fight too.
Go pedal!
If soldiers' mothers had ever experienced a single moment of war,
they'd kill them all, fascists, Germans, generals...
They'd strangle them!
London calling!
Please listen to some personal messages first.
"Gabrielle remains anonymous,
"The one-armed man is hugging her."
On June 10, 1940,
Italy declared war on France.
The fascists invaded four French departments.
When they neared our Paradise,
we felt our hearts shatter.
The French government,
having requested armistice,
now knows the conditions
dictated by the enemy.
It follows from these conditions
that the French territory
would fall under the control
of Germany and Italy.
Vincent!
We broke into the Nestle plant. They're shipping food to Munich.
We stole, with no qualms.
I'll make you a meal, a good polenta.
Vincent, go hide in the cellar!
Get out of the way!
Are you hiding terrorists?
Is there light here?
Who was it?
Up against the wall!
Go on!
Nobody move!
What is it?
The French are not disciplined.
Look at all the stuff they're piling up.
We'll be back.
The Italian planes are coming!
Rene!
What a lovely Sunday!
Here you are, pretty Mama
A bouquet of white roses
Because you love them so much.
When I grow up,
I'll go to the shop
And buy all these white roses,
For you, my pretty Mama!
One evening,
Luigi felt a lump in his stomach.
You have beautiful hands, my boy.
Luigi, my Italian grandfather, died on September 6, 1942.
He was 63 years old.
He was buried in Paradise.
So ended our Italian story.
From town to town in France,
Cesira accompanied us.
Vincent, my father, married Jeanne, met during the war.
He joined the union,
and continued his career as a migrant construction worker.
We children were born and raised in a prosperous France.
A France busy rebuilding itself.
A France full of cars, washing machines, electric toasters, formica tables,
television sets, and yeye singers.
Cesira. Don't you miss Italy?
You know, a person is not from a country.
A person is from a childhood.
When she felt her life was ending,
Cesira wanted to return to Paradise.
Cesira died on August 11, 1962.
She was 76 years old.
Caressing my grandfather's tools,
I found my father's gestures.