Giardino dei Finzi-Contini, Il

Come on, Alberto.
They're here!

You lunatic-- I'll fall!
There's our Micol!
There she is!

My brother and I decided
to hold our own tournament here...

since the club's put us out.
- It may even be more fun!
- It's lovely!

Like the country!
Sorry that the court looks like
an old potato field.

It needs a red clay top
and deeper backspaces.

But to Papa, any land left uncultivated
seems a total waste.

But next year maybe!
Excuse me.
You haven't met Adriana Trentini.

Carletto Sani.
And Tonino Collevatti.
- Want to change?
- Are we playing or not?

Let the children play first,
then the champions.

- You can change in the Hutte.
- What's that?

The cabana.
Don’t you know German?

Very bad. Learn it at once!
Aren't you playing?
Later. I don't feel like it now.
Do you like him?
- Do you?
- Oh, he's not my type.

- Who is he?
- A great friend of Alberto.

Milan, college, love affairs.
He works in industry here.
- How are you?
- Fine. And you?

- Did you get your degree?
- In February. And you?

- Me too.
- In Venice?

- Yes, but will they let us graduate?
- I hope so.

Where have you been hiding?
I saw you
at the Venice Cultural Contests.

I knew it was you.
You haven't changed.

Why didn't you come over?
It would have been nice.