"HOUSE OF GUCCI" (2021)

Written by

Roberto Bentivegna

April 19, 2019

OVER BLACK: BABY CAN I HOLD YOU TONIGHTas sung by Pavarotti.

Brunelleschi’s Dome, Giotto’s Tower, the Arno River. A postcard come to life, enveloped in a painterly light.

A medieval street slowly waking up. Our gaze turns towards a grate marked “COMUNE DI FIRENZE”. Suddenly, WATER gurgles out of it, quickly invading the street’s cobblestones. Ominous.

A factory frozen in mid-production. Hundreds of items in various stages of the process: bags, shoes, belts. We linger over them voyeuristically. Their craftsmanship is exquisite.

Suddenly: a RUSH of water sweeps through the atelier. Violent, unstoppable. Nature’s wrecking ball. The gorgeous leather goods float around helplessly- and with them white lab coats, papers, designs.

The portrait of a DISTINGUISHED MAN- more King than fashion titan- stares blankly at us. The rising water engulfs the portrait, swallowing it whole. The face vanishing with it.

We move outside the factory through the window and hold on the Fascist-era signage informing us whose factory this is. Five letters, slowly filling the screen. In iconic type.

GUCCI

5 CLOSE ON: AN ASHEN-FACED WOMAN. 5

Wrap-around sunglasses cover her eyes. A burning cigarette in her hand. A tower of ash lands next to her off-white sneakers.

This is PATRIZIA REGGIANI (47). She addresses us directly.

2.2.

6 SUPER TIGHT ON: A MAN’S FACE. 6

Melancholic. Pensive. He is perched at the stool of a bustling cafe. Also smoking. We are on the opposite side of the street, watching him through the window.

This is MAURIZIO GUCCI. 47. Three-piece suit. Tinted specs. Effortlessly elegant.

A waiter places an espresso and a brioche next to Maurizio’s hands. We notice his DOUBLE G GUCCI CUFFLINKS.

7 BACK TO PATRIZIA. 7

She removes her sunglasses and we get a glimpse of her VIOLET EYES. They are both touching and terrifying.

TITLE UP: MILAN, 1975.

An ostentatious Italian restaurant overlooking the Galleria in Milan. Patrizia (25) is mesmerized by a kit of PIGEONS fighting over crumbs outside the restaurant’s glass pane.

FWOOM. A TUXEDOED WAITER ignites the crepes tableside. They go up in a small blaze. He flips them, serves them.

We reveal COUNT BRUNELLO. Stiffer than a very stiff Martini.

3.3.

Patrizia’s long nailed fingers SQUEEZE the Count’s hand. Speechless indignation forming on her face. He grimaces.

Silvana follows Patrizia around the house in furry slippers, cigarette and curlers. Patrizia is removing her accessories.

4.4.

Silvana cuts around the photo of a handsome playboy from a magazine and pins it to a cork board behind her. There are dozens of other faces, names.

BIRD’S EYE: Patrizia’s orange FIAT 124 Spider takes the exit ramp off of a new clover-field freeway in Milan’s hinterland.

Patrizia parks her Fiat. She steps out in a super-tight polkadot dress, tall heels, wrap around sunglasses.

As she walks towards her office trailer, a gaggle of truckers stop washing their trucks. Completely transfixed by her.

Patrizia keeps walking towards us. A wry smile on her face.

C/U: Patrizia’s long nails type on a typewriter like it’s a Steinway piano. She is working on an EXPENSE REPORT.

5.5.

Her stepfather FERNANDO REGGIANI (50s) dumps a stack of CHECKS on her desk. He wears a shiny silver double breasted suit. He licks his comb, slicks his hair back.

Patrizia places Fernando’s signature above the first of many blank checks. Carefully copies it. Proudly shows it to him.

He examines it, amazed. They’re identical. Kisses her head.

Patrizia slides into her car, sighs deeply after a work day. From across the lot: a secretary waves at her with a TELEPHONE HANDSET. Patrizia hesitates a moment. More work?

She decides to take the call. Walks over, grabs the handset.

A Jaguar E-type pulls up outside the stunning Palazzo showing 16th century statues contorted in pain. Patrizia steps out wearing a head-to-toe mink coat. Her hair, her make-up, her shoes. We can smellthe perfume. She means business.

MUSIC CUE: LA BAMBOLAby Patty Pravo.

6.6.

WE FOLLOW PATRIZIA, FROM BEHIND: She passes the NIGHT PORTER, who welcomes her; she heads up the lavish staircase, passes two giggling guests dressed as MATADORS; she approaches two enormous double-doors which swing open. Enters the BALLROOM.

A “Carnevale” party. The costumes are exquisite. Venetian masks, Arlecchini, classical composers, historical figures.

Max, standing behind her like a servant, removes Patrizia’s MINK COAT and reveals the most smoldering red dress ever. She knows what she’s doing.

ON THE GUESTS: Conversations stop. Everybody in the room notices. The men, of course. But also the women, who gawk enviously and incredulously at this apparition. For a moment Patrizia kidnaps their attention. She circles the room.

Vittoria Orlando, accompanied by two men, steps up to Max and Patrizia, hand extended. She’s dressed as Marie Antoinette.

Embarrassed faces all around.

Patrizia looks over at Max as he flirts with a handsome hunk.

7.7.

17 LATER. AT THE BAR 17

A nerdy guy stands awkwardly next to the bar. He is in a TUXEDO. Keeps pushing his oversized glasses into the bridge of his nose. Drinks Pepsi. This is MAURIZIO GUCCI (20s).

Patrizia saddles up next to him.

Maurizio turns around. Their eyes meet. He’s speechless.

He quickly reaches for the Johnny Walker, makes her a drink.

Maurizio reflects on this. She’s right.

Maurizio bows, gives her abaise main. He’s very old school.

8.8.

Most of the guests are sitting at tables around the dance- floor, or grabbing their coats to leave. Maurizio and Patrizia slow-dance toIl Cielo in una Stanza by Mina.

Max stands with Patrizia’s coat, ready to go. But he doesn’t want to interrupt what is clearly a moment of pure chemistry.

They’re alone on the dance floor. Maurizio is a terrible dancer. And he’s twice her height. But she leads, swaying to the music and helping him along. She’s a good teacher.

DONG. DONG. DONG. The huge grandfather clock rings MIDNIGHT. Maurizio PULLS away from Patrizia, double checks his watch.

He kisses her hand- definitely more intimately than the initial baise main. Runs out, panicked. Patrizia makes her way to the balcony, gets a bird’s eye view of Maurizio climbing into a limousine. His bodyguard, FRANCO, awaits.

9.9.

Patrizia stands barefoot in the kitchen, still wearing her dress. Cigarette in one hand, jug of milk in the other.

Mamma SILVANA storms in.

Stand-off. Will she tell her mother?

She leaves the kitchen as her mother processes this. Off- screen: the sound of Patrizia’s bedroom door closing.

Uncharacteristically, Silvana is SPEECHLESS.

Patrizia runs into the house carrying groceries. She dumps them in the hallway and checks the Answering Machine.

No new messages. She looks genuinely gutted.

Silvana moseys in, arms folded.

10.10.

Patrizia hides her disappointment, puts groceries away. Silvana follows her around the house like a cloud.

Patrizia looks up at her mother. Tears in her eyes. Her mother wipes her tears.

She hands Patrizia a post-it note with some writing on it. Patrizia looks at it.

RAIN. Patrizia. Burberry raincoat and flat shoes. Sits under the cafe’s awning opposite the Università La Cattolica. STUDENTS TRICKLE OUT. She finishes her cappuccino, quickly removes a bottle ofl’Air du Temps and sprays herself.

A face appears from beyond the revolving glass doors. MAURIZIO. Patrizia calls out to him.

He looks at her. Puzzled. Pushes his glasses in. Squints.

11.11.

He doesn’t recognize her! She suddenly appears... defeated.

But then he SMILES. And she resumes breathing again.

He crosses the street, narrowly dodges a bicycle.

UNDER THE AWNING:

Maurizio laughs awkwardly.

She looks into his eyes, launching a thousand ships.

12.12.

A beat that lasts... an eternity. Smoldering silence.

Franco, parked on the other side of the street, opens his window to get a better view of Patrizia.

She slips her number in his shirt pocket. His heart almost falls out.

She kisses him on the cheek.

SNAPSHOT OF MAURIZIO AND PATRIZIA walking past Milan’s Duomo, arm in arm, as a thousand pigeons take flight around them.

SNAPSHOT: they walk past the GUCCI store in Via Montenapoleone, her eyes beaming in amazement. The Gucci insignia reflected on them.

SNAPSHOT: Maurizio and Patrizia eatpanzerotti (hotpockets) in the street. He takes a huge bite and makes a mess: he’s never had one and it shows. She cleans him up with napkins.

13.13.

SNAPSHOT: they pass Arnaldo Pomodoro’s famous sculpture of a half-sliced Tomato, try spinning it around. It moves an inch.

We pan over to FRANCO THE BODYGUARD, watching from across the street. Checking his watch.

FOG. The kind of fog that envelopes the Scottish Highlands or... Lombardy’s pianura padana. Hard to see 10 feet ahead. Maurizio and Patrizia are walking hand in hand, Franco keeping up behind them. They turn a corner.

Franco turns the corner too but realizes he’s LOST THEM.

ON MAURIZIO AND PATRIZIA. They are RUNNING down a cobblestone street, hand in hand. They emerge onto the other main canal. Nobody around. Patrizia notices a tiny ROWBOAT bobbing.

She removes her heels and steps onto the boat with Maurizio’s help. They undo the rope, grab an oar and push away.

LATER: Patrizia and Maurizio are wrapped around each other on the boat. Light drizzle comes down on them. He takes off his raincoat and lays it over both of them like a blanket.

They kiss, disappear under the coat.

14.14.

TIGHT on a KLIMT PAINTING. Patrizia stares at it confusedly, walks over to an imposing leather couch. Sinks in it.

She sits on the couch, adjusting her posture. The leather SQUEAKS loudly. Her eyes are glued to a HUGE MIRROR where we can make out two figures: MAURIZIO and his father RODOLFO.

Patrizia awkwardly looks over at a maid who pretends to busy herself with a plant. The tension is palpable.

15.15.

Rodolfo turns away from his son, faces a window. A long beat.

Maurizio exits the room, grabs Patrizia by the arm. They walk down the cold marble floors past other priceless art pieces.

Maurizio and Patrizia step up to Franco. He is working on an Isotta-Fraschini. One of many classics.

A yellow cab pulls up outside the gates. The cabbie HONKS.

He gives Maurizio some cash, squeezes his cheek. Wells up.

A secret shrine to Rodolfo’s acting days. Rodolfo is in a silk Gucci robe, watching himself in a silent film. He mimics his own movements, enveloped in nostalgia and regret.

16.16.

Rodolfo marvels at himself, proudly. Drowning in memories.

Maurizio and Patrizia waits outside the Reggiani’s modernist home. The door opens and Silvana and Fernando greet Maurizio with crocodile smiles. Fernando takes Maurizio’s duffle bags.

The Reggianis and Maurizio walk across a hallway lined with religious icons. Silvana subtly stops and crosses herself as she passes a small Madonna. “Thank you for bringinghim.”

They open the door to an APARTMENT above the family garage. Simply a small bedroom, kitchenette, living area and a TV.

Patrizia grazes Maurizio’s hand. Smiles conspiratorially.

The family watches the Italian soccer team on the couch. Frittata on the table. Ice-cold beers being passed around.

Italy scores. Fernando goes berserk, jumping up and down as the dog barks. He grabs Maurizio and squeezes him like a rag.

WIDE on the modernist villa and studio apartment above the garage. A moonlit SHADOW crosses the connecting hallway.

ANGLE ON: PEDICURED FEET. Tiptoeing across the mahogany.

Patrizia. Slides into Maurizio’s bed. Licks him all over and gets on top of him. He inhales her chest like it’s cocaine.

ON SILVANA. She lies in bed listening to the couple make love. That’s my girl.

17.17.

PRE-LAP: the sound of WEDDING BELLS.

A 14th century red brick basilica in a walled, tree-filled courtyard. A ROLLS-ROYCE pulls up. Patrizia exits, her father Fernando holding her dress behind her.

The pews are draped in burgundy velvet and decorated with bunches of wild-flowers. Patrizia walks down the aisle.

She joins Maurizio at the altar, he kisses her hand. Her gaze lands on EMPTY PEWS at the front.

Her expression changes instantly. From elation to woe. Why?

No Guccis came. (Except for Franco who weeps incessantly)

The wedding ceremony begins. She cracks a fake smile at Maurizio but she never shakes off her disappointment.

Maurizio and Patrizia, newlyweds, step outside to a crowd of onlookers clapping and cheering. A couple PAPARAZZI elbow their way through and snap photos of them. Yell out.

PAPARAZZO #1 PAPARAZZO #2

How does it feel to be a Have you bought a house yet? Gucci? *

Maurizio and Patrizia jump into the Rolls-Royce and take off.

Patrizia is sweating in goggles, standing in an upright sunbed, UV light on her. A spa employee hands her a phone.

Patrizia can’t see anything. She paws at the phone, grabs it.

A Korean masseuse walks on the back of: ALDO GUCCI (70s). Debonair. Effete. Bronzed. He is gawking at the front page of a gossip rag, Novella 2000, detailing the wedding.

18.18.

INTERCUT BETWEEN PATRIZIA AND ALDO

CRACK. The Korean masseuse hits a spot. Aldo GRUNTS.

Patrizia and Maurizio walk up-hill to an immense white-and- turqouise villa perched above the lake.

19.19.

Large umbrellas shield a long table from the sunshine as the staff prepare lunch. It is a glorious, bucolic vision, interrupted by:

The sound of GRUNTING and SLAMMING and CHEERING.

Maurizio and Patrizia peer over to the left, to a stretch of LAWN. There are goal nets on each end. A GAME IS IN PROGRESS.

A group of MEN- some kids, too- are playingCalcio Storico (Historical football) - a game thought up by 16th-century Florentines. As the name suggests, it's an early and very violent form of football. We join them on the field and see:

ALDO. White shirt rolled up, screaming on the sideline, spit flying out as he motivates his team.

THE PLAYERS. Still in their once-crisp WHITE SHIRTS and FLANNEL TROUSERS. The shirts bloodied, the trousers torn.

Paolo has the ball in his hand. Terrified. He looks around at who to pass. Not many options.

Paolo gets ELBOWED IN THE FACE. Lands in a mound of dirt, blood squirting out of his nose and onto the ground.

MAURIZIO AND PATRIZIA. He, horrified and embarrassed. She, intrigued and titillated. A smile forming.

Some 20-odd guests sit at the long table under the umbrellas. The men who participated in the game sport band-aids, bloody clothes, bruises. Gift-wrapping paper is picks up by maids.

We pan across the guests as bowls of food are passed around.

ON PAOLO GUCCI. Uncomfortable in his own skin. Bald, mustachioed, short. He has changed into the weirdest looking corduroy suit imaginable and has toilet paper up his nose.

20.20.

We shift our gaze to Paolo’s buxom, British new wife, JENNY.

Jenny CACKLES at something as she passes the bowl of pasta to Patrizia and immediately notices her WEDDING RING.

Now on to ALDO GUCCI. A gorgeous young FRENCH MODEL giggling opposite him as he tickles her toes under the table.

ON DOMENICO DE SOLE. Bookish. White socks over black ill- fitting business suit. Straggly beard. He runs his index finger across his tight shirt collar. A nervous tic. And he neatly divides his food into little sections on his plate.

Paolo polishes off a glass of wine, reaches for another bottle. He’s drunk. Aldo takes his glass away from him.

21.21.

Maurizio pulls Patrizia to himself, whispers in her ear.

Jenny turns to the table. Speaks with her mouth full.

The deafening silence of people chewing, drinking.

22.22.

Aldo examines his slice of Parma prosciutto. He calls one of the waiters over. Whispers to him.

He stabs at the slice with his fork, raises it towards the sun.

Maurizio looks down at his plate. Plays with his food.

23.23.

He grabs Jenny and they leave.

Maurizio is driving Patrizia’s orange convertible with the top down. She is a little tipsy and he doesn’t drink. So he drives. Sitting in Patrizia’s lap is a box. She pries it open revealing a mud-brown CAKE. Not exactly appetizing.

She breaks off a piece, eats it.

She takes a piece and feeds it to Maurizio.

He doesn’t answer. Keeps chewing. And chewing. And...

24.24.

She kisses Maurizio, stares at him longingly. Pure adoration. Slips her hand into his and squeezes it tightly.

She keeps breaking pieces of the cake off. One bite, two bites... she can’t stop eating it.

Patrizia lies in bed, wheels turning, eyes staring at a CRACK in the ceiling. Maurizio curled up by her in fetal position.

She gets out of bed and makes herself an alka-seltzer in the kitchen. Stares at the fizzing tablet. She sips, burps a little. Turns on the T.V., flicks through some channels.

She stops at a TAROT CARD READER taking live phone calls on a local cable cannel. This is PINA AURIEMMA (late 30s). Her black eyes stare into the camera. Hair dyed red, permanently enveloped in cigarette smoked, she uses her long fingernails like wands. A phone number flashes across the screen.

25.25.

Pina’s eyes burn a hole through the T.V. and pierce right into Patrizia. Patrizia CALLS THE NUMBER on the screen.

The phone rings on T.V. - Pina answers. She starts shuffling her cards. Ready for action.

26.26.

Cream leather sofas, 70s plush carpeting. A flurry of activity surrounds a very special customer making his way out of Milan’s flagship store.

Marlon Brando.

Assistants carry several Gucci bags for him. Two girlfriends hang off his arms. And ALDO, like a drooling Chihuahua, chums around with him.

Brando steps outside. An army of FANS await him. He climbs into a limo.

Aldo slaps the trunk of the car. Blows an air kiss at Brando.

The limo PEELS AWAY, fans running after it.

Aldo, still high from hanging with Brando, moseys back inside the store.

He notices a pretty girl in a monochrome satin dress and red heels. We don’t see her face. He just can’t help himself.

27.27.

He turns her around towards a full mirror. We pivot together.

And reveal, in the reflection, that... IT’S PATRIZIA.

In the mirror: Aldo’s “FUCK!” face as he realizes it’s her.

Aldo’s office is just as garish as he is. More Hugh Hefner than Gucci. Leopard rug, full bar, life-size bust of himself. And the ubiquitous Guccio Gucci looking over proceedings. They drink espressos and eat biscotti.

Raises a glass to Guccio Gucci’s portrait.

Patrizia laughs awkwardly.

28.28.

He places his hand on her arm.

Aldo’s Maserati Khamsin crosses the idyllic Tuscan landscape. Aldo and Patrizia up front. Maurizio squashed in the back. Aldo easily pushing 100mph.

The car pulls up outside a vast field full of cows. They walk around. Aldo breathes in dramatically.

29.29.

They go through a tannery, hinds hanging from the ceiling. The chief tanner kisses Aldo’s Gucci ring. The stench is strong. Maurizio (not Patrizia) gags. She nudges him to stop.

A dingy, damp tavern carved out of a grotto. Maurizio, Patrizia and Aldo sit in a corner. Aldo finishes a sip of wine. He’s drunk. All around: blue-collar employees of Gucci. Male and many females.

He smiles at a very pretty 20-something year old girl in overalls and a hair-net. She smiles back. Instantly charmed.

Angle on: Patrizia’s heel steps on Maurizio’s foot under the table. He jolts back to life.

30.30.

Aldo leans in: THE MOMENT she’s been waiting for.

Maurizio stares at the Milan skyline. Patrizia moves in behind him, sipping on tea. They are reflected in the window.

31.31.

A long pause. He kisses her forehead but she turns away. He immediately picks up on her mood-shift.

They kiss. She grabs his hand and places it on her belly.

She takes his hand and places it on her belly.

32.32.

Maurizio runs down the hallway with a bouquet of flowers and an envelope. He scans the name-tags, stops at GUCCI.

POV MAURIZIO: Patrizia lies in bed with their newborn daughter, ALLEGRA, who is fast asleep on her chest.

Maurizio wells up, grabs her little finger. Places the flowers and the envelope next to Patrizia, proudly.

She opens the envelope and pulls out:

TWO PLANE TICKETS TO NEW YORK. And a CHECK for $50,000.

Patrizia smiles ecstatically. She’d do a dance if she could.

TITLE UP: NEW YORK CITY- ONE MONTH LATER

Patrizia and Maurizio walk away from a TWA jet, an ant line of suitcases following them. Patrizia cradles their sleeping newborn in her arms. The three of them get into a brown Cadillac straight off the Tarmac.

A porter takes Maurizio and Patrizia inside the luxury Upper West Side old money apartment. It is fancy and has a spectacular city view. Patrizia drinks it all in. In heaven.

33.33.

The living-room has exposed white brick along the walls, bronze ostrich figurines, a white baby grand piano, and a zebra print rug surrounded by a few couches.

A half-eaten chocolate cake next to a “Welcome to New York” card signed ALDO. Patrizia is in a bubble bath, her head above water. Maurizio enters. She grabs his tie, pulls him in (fully clothed) and turns the bubbles all the way up.

Patrizia and Maurizio, in formal wear, mingle in the extravagant hotel’s ballroom. They speak to an ancient couple struggling to pronounce Italian words.

Maurizio smiles politely. Patrizia cringes as she looks around the room. Whispers to Maurizio.

Aldo, pants around his ankles, is going at it with a YOUNG SOCIALITE surrounded by tumbling washing machines. A KNOCK.

Aldo works the room, shaking dozens of rich, wrinkled hands.

Tight on the filaments of a flash bulb as they ignite.

34.34.

A photographer takes pictures of Aldo with a cluster of New York celebrities. Aldo suddenly spots Maurizio and Patrizia, moves over to them. The room’s attention turns to the young couple. Patrizia loves it. Maurizio doesn’t.

Aldo positions himself between them. Photos are taken.

Aldo is on stage, delivering an acceptance speech, under the headline ALDO GUCCI: SON OF NEW YORK.

The women in the crowd giggle. They’re lapping it up.

Aldo points out Maurizio who embarrassingly raises his Pepsi.

35.35.

A tower of fresh seafood is placed in front of Patrizia, Maurizio, Aldo and Aldo’s new squeeze - a CHINESE GIRL in her 20s. They are sitting under a Maxfield Parrish mural. Lounge Jazz in the background.

The clink glasses and dive into the seafood tower.

MONTAGE: LIFE IN NYC over Sylvester’sYou Make Me Feel.

- Maurizio directs employees at Gucci 5th Ave. He confidently climbs up a step ladder and re-arranges the handbags, angling them so the light hits them just right. They nod. Get it.

- Patrizia has her hair done by Vidal Sassoon himself.

- STUDIO 54. We pass a gallery of celebrities- Liz Taylor, Andy Warhol, Mick and Bianca Jagger- and land on the DANCE FLOOR. Maurizio is a terrible dancer. Patrizia teases him by sensually dancing with five outrageous DRAG QUEENS.

END MONTAGE

Patrizia steps into the apartment carrying armfuls of shopping bags. She looks effortlessly cool in her new hair, clothes and fast-acquired New York attitude.

36.36.

She puts down her Gucci handbag on the kitchen counter. Something catches her eye:

ANOTHER GUCCI HANDBAG. Virtually identical. Not hers. Whose?

MAYBELINE, the 50 year old housekeeper, vacuums the zebra print rug. Patrizia taps her on the shoulder, holding her handbag. Maybeline JUMPS- she didn’t hear Patrizia walk in.

Patrizia studies it. It really is a Gucci. Or a GREAT copy.

Rain. A checkered cab pulls up outside an ELECTRONICS STORE. This is 1970s Midtown. Hookers, drug dealers and regretful faces. Patrizia steps out and hesitantly enters the store.

Muzak plays over harsh NEON LIGHTS. A makeshift sign informs us where the GUCCI section is. Flagship store this ain’t.

Patrizia walks up to a shelf. She looks in horror as she examines GUCCI HANDBAGS and MOCASSINS. A sign proudly announces “GUCCI HANDBAG ON SALE: $99.99”. But it gets worse.

Further down the aisle are GUCCI TRINKETS: Umbrellas. Mugs. Wallets. Patrizia opens the umbrella. GUCCI LOGO ALL OVER IT.

37.37.

Maurizio inspects a HANDBAG. He places it on the white grand piano. We pull back to dozens, maybe hundreds of similar items: Patrizia bought as much as she could find. She paces, jabbing the Gucci umbrella into the air as she speaks.

38.38.

Angle on: the GUCCI MUG. Aldo sips from it. Maurizio and Patrizia have brought a bunch of trinkets for him to look at.

Patrizia has to hide her disgust. Barely holds it together.

Aldo and Maurizio both look at Patrizia. Surprised.

39.39.

And with THAT ONE LINE he’s created himself an enemy.

He checks his watch.

He slides his hands into Maurizio and Patrizia’s arms and walks them outside, ever the charmer.

Paolo Gucci’s Alfa Romeo spider pulls up outside Rodolfo’s austere mansion. Rain pelting it from above. The gates open.

Paolo is in the living room neatly arranging his designs on the large oak table. A fire rages. COUGHING is heard nearby.

The heavy doors swing open. RODOLFO enters, accompanied by his trusty lawyer, DE SOLE. Rodolfo is in a purple silk robe and sheepskin slippers. He finishes drinking a glass of pomegranate juice. Wipes his mouth with a Gucci handkerchief.

Marvels at the red stain. Juice, or... blood?

They sit in complete silence for a moment. Just the sound of crackling embers and distant classical music.

40.40.

Paolo shuffles uncomfortably in his chair. DE SOLE’S gaze remains fixed on him throughout the meeting.

Paolo lifts frail Rodolfo out of his chair and guides him towards the oak table. They review the designs together.

41.41.

Both Rodolfo and De Sole marvel at the cacophony of colors, the obvious lack of skill, the obliviousness of it all.

Paolo closes his designs, flabbergasted. Devastated.

Paolo removes the scarf from Rodolfo’s neck, admires it and in an act of defiance, throws it into the raging fire. FWOOM.

Rodolfo stumbles over to him, in disbelief. COUGHS VIOLENTLY.

42.42.

Paolo collects his designs (which takes a lot longer than he anticipated) and storms out.

Rodolfo, in pain, opens a bottle of pills and slams them with another colorful glass of green juice. Another silent film plays in the background. This one a sword-and-sandal one.

Maurizio and Patrizia sit quietly opposite him.

Rodolfo smiles at Patrizia’s quip.

43.43.

Rodolfo hobbles to a portrait of Guccio on the wall. Bows.

He moves the portrait over, opens a hidden safe. Inside: a WALLET. Old, wrinkled, bearing the two Gucci G’s.

He hands the wallet to Maurizio. Maurizio’s hand shakes as he clutches it. He knows the value of it. It’s... priceless.

Patrizia grabs Rodolfo’s boney hands. Puts something in them.

Rodolfo opens his palm. A LOCK OF BABY HAIR. He considers it.

44.44.

Maurizio thumbs the GG wallet next to Patrizia, their hands interlocked. They pass the Gucci store on Via Montenapoleone. Maurizio opens the window for fresh air. He dry heaves.

The car stops. Patrizia opens the door and Maurizio vomits.

We are tight on Maurizio. His dazed gaze fixed on something:

RODOLFO. Dead. Lying in a coffin, surrounded by an immense floral arrangement. A HEADSHOT propped up next to him.

Maurizio taps the coffin, unsure of what else to do.

Behind him, De Sole is sensitively herding mourners out of the room, listening to their stories about Rodolfo.

De Sole is going through the inheritance left to Maurizio by his father. He’s been reading for a while.

Patrizia cradles Allegra in her arms.

45.45.

De Sole unties a cord, opens a leather-bound document holder. Inside: GUCCI’S SHARE CERTIFICATES. Ornate and austere.

De Sole does some math on a pocket calculator.

Patrizia puts her hand out for the documents.

He hands them over.

Patrizia goes through a shoebox containing Rodolfo’s old mail and removes a signed headshot dated 1954. She gets to work and starts PRACTICING his signature. Over and over.

68 LATER: 68

Hundreds of practice sheets strewn about the glass table, all showing Patrizia’s attempts to imitate Rodolfo’s signature.

46.46.

She’s finally read to FORGE the real thing. Removes the SHARE CERTIFICATE and slips a pair of LEATHER GUCCI GLOVES ON.

She breathes heavily. Has to sign it in one go.

She GOES FOR IT. Her hand gliding perfectly across the manuscript.

Maurizio JOLTS her- she almost screws up the signature. But it’s done. And it looks...just like Rodolfo’s.

She pulls Maurizio towards her and gives him a big kiss.

Music cue: Donna Summers’I FEEL LOVE.

On Maurizio and Patrizia, sitting in the front row of a packed audience at Versace’s 1980 Spring/Summer fashion show.

47.47.

She is chatting to her extravagant neighbor, laughing along and being effervescent. He presses his glasses in. Anxious.

Maurizio looks down at the PROGRAM. One name.Versace.

On the runway: the show starts. It’s very different from the fashion shows we are used to. Models are all over the place, walking and strutting. Smiling and dancing. Kind of a mess.

As for the clothes? Lots of sunset and sand colors. Slouchy boots and pants and intricate belts. Subtle non-specific eastern references, a ramshackle South American cowboy look but with Versace's famous opulence coming through.

Maurizio all in black- looking less dorky. Patrizia is her usual extravagant self: skintight leopard dress, 5 inch heels, 4 inch coif. Around them: TRAPEZE ARTISTS. TRANSVESTITES. GRACE JONES. PAPARAZZIS. FASHIONISTAS. COKE.

Angle on: a lost cat makes its way across the dance-floor. The cat gets snatched up by KARL LAGERFELD’S LEATHER GLOVE.

She licks her finger and wipes a small stain on his shirt.

48.48.

LATER: Maurizio is at the buffet nervously scooping up a shrimp cocktail. A SILVER FOX IN HIS 40s stands next to him.

They look over at the profile of one GIANNI VERSACE.

The Silver Fox almost chokes on his shrimp.

49.49.

Silver Fox “accidentally” drops a dollop of cocktail sauce on one of Maurizio’s Gucci moccasins. Out of sight.

Silver Fox extends his hand.

50.50.

Armani walks away. We pull back to reveal Patrizia who has been watching this exchange all along.

Patrizia and Maurizio walk down a quiet cobblestone street enveloped in fog. Nobody else around. Patrizia, in her heels, struggles to keep up with Maurizio, who is walking ahead of her. He undoes his tie, flustered.

He stops- can’t believe she said that.

51.51.

They stop in the middle of the street.

That one cuts right to the bone.

52.52.

She kisses him.

A newspaper clipping lands on a table next to a half-finished breakfast. An ominous headline:

We are in the glass veranda of the new penthouse overlooking the Milan skyline. The swimming pool is just outside. On DE SOLE. He loosens his shirt collar. Sitting opposite him is Maurizio. They study the clipping.

We pan over to reveal PATRIZIA sitting next to Maurizio. She’s been there the whole time.

Domenico’s gaze turns to Maurizio, who bites his nails.

53.53.

Patrizia isn’t pleased with this answer but she works it.

Patrizia and De Sole exchange subtle ”fuck you too” looks.

A tarot reading. Patrizia and Pina sit opposite each other at the table.

Pina’s apartment is next to a loud tram station and they have to wait for the tram to pass by before she can answer.

54.54.

Paolo’s lips are covered in sugar. He throws a morsel to his pigeons. Patrizia walks around his DESIGNS which hang on mannequins. Sketches strewn about everywhere. Fabrics.

Patrizia examines a Paolo monstrosity. Flash Gordon meets Vivienne Westwood. Urine yellow. He waltzes up proudly.

55.55.

De Sole was right after all. Patrizia rethinks her strategy.

A pigeon lands on Paolo’s hand, he caresses it as it coos.

56.56.

Paolo looks up at Patrizia. A glint in his eyes.

She starts packing up. He senses that he is missing an opportunity. Grabs her by the arm and, nervously asks:

Through glass doors we see MAURIZIO smoking in his living- room, listening to Verdi’s LA TRAVIATA. His mind elsewhere. PATRIZIA slips up behind him, jolts him.

He can’t hear so she pulls the needle off the vinyl.

She takes the cigarette from his mouth, smokes it.

57.57.

Patrizia moves over to the billiard table. She deliberately starts potting balls into the pockets with her hands.

He joins her at the pool table, faces her on the other side.

He stops a ball from going into the pocket, grabs it.

They stare at each other across the pool table. A LONG BEAT. He throws the billiard ball back at her. She catches it.

Slow motion of MAURIZIO walking through the salle. He tosses his cigarette butt in the entrance and puts it out with his shoe. He looks nervous. PATRIZIA watches from outside.

58.58.

Maurizio and Paolo sit on the side of the oak-paneled room. A bunch of duels are taking place. The sound of blades sliding against each other and the buzzer going off.

Paolo nudges Maurizio. Crass. But Maurizio humors him.

Maurizio smiles. Enjoys watching Paolo squirm.

Paolo looks around, pulls out a briefcase and clicks it open.

59.59.

He hands Maurizio one of the files. Maurizio glances it over.

BUZZ. A fencer lands a direct hit.

Paolo grabs the briefcase again. Clicks it shut.

60.60.

Paolo nods silently. Maurizio takes the briefcase from him.

Maurizio stares at a duel where a fencer is being cornered by his opponent who doesn’t let up. Hit, Hit, Hit.

ALDO, in protective glasses, is dripping sweat as he is slammed into a wall while playing squash with a young co-ed.

Suddenly THREE MEN in suits show up waving Federal Badges. He greets them, ignores them. Returns to the game.

FREEZE FRAME: a NEWSPAPER PICTURE of Aldo getting arrested.

61.61.

UNFREEZE: The NEWSPAPER PICTURE comes alive and Aldo, in his squash gear, is stuffed into a car. Oblivious.

Paolo looks down at the newspaper article about Aldo’s arrest, his hands shaking. He pours himself an immense whiskey. He’s on the phone to Maurizio.

SPLIT SCREEN. Maurizio on the left, in chiaroscuro. Paolo on the right, pacing with his drink and article in a kimono.

Heavy breathing. Paolo’s half a second from a panic attack.

62.62.

CLICK. Maurizio’s SPLIT-SCREEN fills the frame, revealing Patrizia to his right. She was there all along.

SNAPSHOT: Long work tables, sewing machines, fabrics, flat overhead lighting, curtains drawn over windows. A much more professional set-up than we’ve seen previously.

SNAPSHOT: Paolo gets a tape measure and a notebook and proceeds to measure his models, writes down measurements.

SNAPSHOT: Paolo picks a LOGO for his PG line- it’s gold and garish and very Paolo i.e. completely lacking in subtlety.

Whip-pan to Patrizia and Maurizio walking in to “take a peak”. Arms outstretched, they affectionately hug Paolo.

Patrizia takes a CHECK out of her Gucci bag and hands it to Paolo, who in turns hands it to his new assistant.

ALDO and his team of lawyers STAND in the busy courtroom. He is sobbing, leaning on his cane.

The judge gathers his paperwork.

63.63.

Aldo and his lawyers sit around the formica conference table.

On ALDO: the look of a man in torment.

ANGLE ON: The GAVEL STRIKES. The judge delivers his sentence.

SNAPSHOT: ALDO, in his Prison Uniform, is greeted by his new cellmates: a heavily tattooed NICARAGUAN and a scrawny TEXAN. He puts his towel and soap on the bottom bunk of the bed. Extends his hand as though he were at a cocktail party.

MUSIC CUE: Verdi’s“Drinking Song” from LA TRAVIATA.

Angle on: JENNY GUCCI’S OPEN MOUTH. She belts OPERA for the guests at Paolo’s big show. The setting is a courtyard in a Milanese palazzo. There are WAITERS circling dining tables and an improvised catwalk running through them like a train track. Paolo’s P.G. logo is draped from the balconies.

A gaggle of NERVOUS MODELS wearing Paolo’s designs make their way down the catwalk. There is NO consistency to the designs: they are clearly the work of a glorified amateur.

64.64.

Safari-themed jumpsuits. Fur-lined puffer jackets. Tunics. Faux-fur coats. Velvet blazers.

Welcome to the dark side of late70s/early80s fashion.

We track through empty coat racks, people running around like headless chicken, models hangings. End with PAOLO watching the show from a vantage point. He turns to his assistant, grabs him by the shoulders. Flushed and agitated.

A MODEL comes up to him in her underwear. She’s shivering.

He runs to another end. No clue where to turn. Overwhelmed.

His FEMALE ASSISTANT pounces on him, terrified.

PAOLO steps out into the light, is approached by the CHIEF.

Paolo nods. Turns to the room and tries to DEFUSE tension.

65.65.

The cop hands him a CEASE AND DECIST letter. Paolo squints.

The CARABINIERI storm the backstage area and being REMOVING his designs, carelessly place them in boxes.

Paolo can’t believe it. His hands shake as he reads the document. Jenny starts belting opera again to try and reclaim some normalcy. But it’s too late. Guests are pouring out.

Patrizia and Maurizio are parked in their Mercedes-Benz, watching as the guests chat loudly about they just witnessed.

A steady stream of boxes is now being carried outside by the carabinieri. A handful of dresses fall on the dirty sidewalk.

Maurizio and Patrizia are kneeling at a pew. Without warning, Paolo slides in next to them. Disheveled. The entire conversation is sottovoce, accompanied by an organ.

66.66.

Paolo paces up and down the cobblestones like an angry bull. Opposite him, Patrizia and Maurizio do their best American Gothic: standing perfectly still watching him blow up.

Maurizio turns to face Paolo. His voice growing in strength.

He clicks his fingers.

67.67.

Paolo lets out a cackle in church. Everybody turns to look.

Paolo’s jaw hits the floor. He can’t believe his ears.

He leaves.

TITLE UP: 1985.

MUSIC CUE: FRANCO BATTIATO’SCUCCURUCUCU. Aerial of a PRISON.

68.68.

ALDO, in prison garb, walks down a row lined with sewing machines. Inmates carefully stitch and pull and cut cloth. He stops to INSPECT a pair of trousers. He points out errors.

Aldo fixes up his Nicaraguan cellmate, adjusting his trouser turn-up. A guard swings by.

Aldo looks up, inquiringly. He shakes his head no and continues working on the pant leg.

ANGLE ON: the prison’s log book. The guard scribbles a new entry: Paolo Gucci. We pull back to entire column of missed visits from PAOLO to ALDO.

PULL BACK to a large gymnasium filled with formica tables and cheap plastic chairs at which we see PRISONERS and their WIVES AND CHILDREN eating, talking, crying. We land on:

PAOLO. All alone. Waiting for his father who won’t come.

Paolo paces around his atelier, looking more like a coked-up porn producer than a fashion heir. Disheveled, salmon pink suit, eye bags. Lights a cigarette with the end of another.

69.69.

A huge mahogany desk with a team of a dozen or so lawyers giving a presentation. Paolo is in the middle, flipping through an IMMENSE folder of documents. Totally confused.

ANGLE ON: Paolo signing cheque after cheque until he literally his the cardboard of his checkbook.

An ACCOUNTANT with the face of an undertaker reviews Paolo’s expenses with him. Paolo bites his nails, knows it’s bad.

70.70.

WHIP-PAN: FRANCO bursts through the door carrying a MOTORCYCLE HELMET.

SIRENS blaring outside. Maurizio runs to the window and sees three marked Alfa Romeo 155 screech to a halt.

SUPER SLOW-MOTION ON THE FINANCE POLICE AS THEY PULL UP. Dressed in innocuous light gray uniforms.

Franco grabs Maurizio by the arm. Hands him TRAVEL DOCUMENTS.

The MAID takes Allegra to her bedroom as the Finance Police swarms the apartment.

96 REAR OF THE BUILDING: 96

Maurizio hops on a RED KAWASAKI. He revs the engine, kicks the stand and TAKES OFF, concealed by his helmet.

The color palette goes from foggy, grey Milan to lush, green Switzerland. Maurizio constantly checks his rear-view mirror.

71.71.

The motorcycle pulls up at a BORDER CHECKPOINT where the Swiss Authorities check his documents. They ask him to lift his visor. Back and forth glances, then the signal: GO AHEAD.

The motorcycle’s headlight shines in the night as it pulls up outside the Gucci’s St. Moritz chalet. It is austere, set on a snow-covered ledge overlooking a deep valley. Swiss Xanadu.

Maurizio steps inside, alone. It’s dark. He grabs a flashlight and shines it around. He comes across photographs on the mantelpiece. Of him as a little boy with his mother. Of his father and mother. Of him on Guccio Gucci’s lap.

A big portion of his life in just a few snapshots.

Patrizia stands in the middle of the office putting out a cigarette in an overflowing ashtray, watching powerlessly as the TAX POLICE removes dozens of files.

A HANDWRITING SPECIALIST with a magnifying glass compares Maurizio’s signature with Rodolfo’s in several documents.

TAX COP #1 Thank you Mrs. Gucci, we have all the help we need. We just need to perform a few more analyses.

Patrizia pulls out her purse and removes a 5 inch wad of cash. Not a word is spoken.

Everybody stops on their tracks. Looks are exchanged. Half of them want it. The other half... want it but can’t.

Suddenly DE SOLE steps inside, sees what is going on. He grabs Patrizia from the room and steps outside with her.

72.72.

They stare at each other. Two liars squaring off.

She throws her mink coat on and leaves.

Maurizio, decked out in a garish 80s ski outfit, tears through a steep double black diamond piste. An expert.

73.73.

He arrives at the bottom and takes a breather. Removes his gloves and loosens his ski boots.

A WOMAN IN HER 30s, PAOLA FRANCHI, “pulls up” right next to him. Taps him on his shoulder.

Maurizio looks up. Paola removes her goggles and hat. We get a good look at her. A Hitchcockian icy blonde in her 30s, elegant and low-key. Polar opposite to Patrizia.

She immediately gives him a giggly hug. Holds his hands.

100 THROUGH WINDSHIELD WIPERS: 100

The St. Moritz chalet appears, amber light glowing in the snow-covered Swiss landscape.

Patrizia and Allegra exit and make their way into the house. The sound of laughter intensifies as they get closer.

PATRIZIA, wrestling with suitcases and Christmas presents, steps into the living room.

PATRIZIA’S POV: six dinner guests are watching a game of TWISTER. MAURIZIO and PAOLA FRANCHI are all tangled up with each other. The laughter subsides when guests notice Patrizia.

The guests say “Hi Patrizia” in unison. Allegra RUNS towards a pretty Christmas tree proudly standing by the bay window.

74.74.

Paola makes her way over to Patrizia and Allegra.

Macaroons and Moscato d’Asti. The guests are stuck-up winter weekenders. Everybody is enjoying dinner except for Patrizia.

All eyes on Patrizia.

75.75.

She puts her hand on his. Suddenly Patrizia perks up.

76.76.

Icy silence in the room. Just the tinkle of a spoon.

A fire burns in the mahogany imperial bedroom as Patrizia removes her jewelry and lathers her face in beauty creams. There’s tension in the room. You canfeel it. Maurizio is in his underwear pulling clothes out of their suitcases.

77.77.

She throws the pajamas at him.

78.78.

She tries caressing him but he pulls away.

Patrizia turns on a dime. Venom in her eyes.

He GRABS her by the throat and pushes her up against the wall, lifts her up.

Angle on her feet: they’re a good 5 inches off the ground. She claws at his hands. His glasses go flying off him. He snaps out of it.

Immediately regretting it, he lets go and looks down at his hands. Amazed at himself. Color returning to his black eyes.

She coughs, breathes heavily, tears in her eyes.

Then, unexpectedly- she grabs him and KISSES HIM PASSIONATELY. They do it against the wall, it’s aggressive, animalistic. A mix of passion and hatred. A FINE LINE.

It’s CHRISTMAS EVE. A light snowfall dusts the house. Patrizia pulls up outside, enters carrying shopping bags.

Patrizia has just finished re-decorating the Christmas tree with new decorations.

79.79.

Paola’s decorations have been taken down. Allegra is playing SIMON SAYS (the toy) in the living room. She hits colored triangles and repeats musical patterns, mesmerized. It’s super loud. She bangs on and on.

Through half-open French doors: we see Maurizio, smoking, pacing back and forth. He is on the phone with De Sole.

Maurizio pokes his head out of his HOME OFFICE.

He angrily slides the doors closed and resumes his conversation. Patrizia eyes him like a hawk through a gap in the door. He’s circling companies in the WALL STREET JOURNAL.

Patrizia goes through the papers on Maurizio’s desk, sees what Maurizio has been circling: FOREIGN INVESTMENT COMPANIES.

Christmas wrapping paper strewn around. Patrizia is handing out presents. Maurizio swallows a yawn. His mind elsewhere.

She rips the paper ravenously. Teddy Ruxpin. She lets out a gasp. Adds him to the pile of toys next to her.

80.80.

Maurizio throws Patrizia a look: obviouslyhis credit card. Maurizio takes the gift. He pulls the paper back. It’s a Tiffany WATCH. He puts it aside.

Allegra sees one last present under the tree. Pulls it out.

Patrizia unwraps the present whilst smiling at Maurizio. This is a big moment for her. For them. She unwraps the already small package, realizes it’s even smaller. Could be a jewel?

Patrizia removes something so awful she almost cries at the sight of it. She dangles it like it’s a dead fish. It’s...

81.81.

Maurizio and Allegra make their way down the bunny slope. Patrizia watches them as she waits in line for the ski lift.

Something catches her eye: PAOLA FRANCHI, in all-white. She is at the front of the line. Patrizia charges through the crowd, gets right next to her.

They get on the ski-lift. The bar is lowered. Legs dangling.

Pause. Patrizia stares at Paola, expecting an answer.

82.82.

Paola offers a passive aggressive, smiling nod. “go ahead”.

They arrive at the top of the slope. Patrizia raises the ski lift bar and skis away, leaving Paola to digest this.

Patrizia, alone in the resort’s cafe, sips on a hot chocolate. She looks out at the mountain. Maurizio and Allegra are nowhere to be seen. Paola’s strudel is next to her. A resort attendant stacks chairs. Time to go.

Patrizia is dropped of by a taxi. As soon as the taxi is out of sight, she takes Paola’s strudel, walks over to the edge of the valley, and TOSSES it down. It vanishes in the snow.

She tries to open the door to the house. It’s LOCKED. She tries her keys. In vain. They don’t work.

83.83.

LATER: Patrizia sits in the doorway shivering. Her coat is up to her nose and she is half-asleep. HEADLIGHTS WAKE HER UP.

Maurizio pulls up with Allegra. They make their way over.

He hands her a copy.

She rubs Allegra’s head.

Maurizio and Patrizia are in the bedroom. She sits upright in doing a crossword puzzle. Trying her best to be “normal”.

Maurizio is in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He either ignores her or doesn’t hear.

84.84.

No answer. She puts the puzzle down. He emerges from the bathroom, wipes his mouth clean and prepares for bed.

Patrizia laughs in disbelief. Then she realizes he’s not joking and a look of deep sadness washes over her.

He leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

85.85.

180 rotation on Patrizia, wide awake, SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY in bed. Alone.

Patrizia finishes packing presents and suitcases in the back of Franco’s car. She gives Maurizio one last glance.

Maurizio looks out at her through the icy window. Impassive.

ANGLE ON: Maurizio’s list of Foreign Investors. One in particular is circled.INVESTCORP.

De Sole is at Maurizio’s desk, feet up, flipping through the Wall Street Journal. A SECRETARY pours him fresh coffee.

86.86.

De Sole suddenly perks up. Maurizio has NEVER snapped at him.

ESTABLISHING: with its ceramic tiles depicting bourgeois beauties, is one of the finest pieces of fin-de-siècle Liberty architecture in Italy.

Patrizia and six HEAVILY MADE UP EX-WIVES sit in a windowed terrace, sipping wine and exchanging love/war stories.

87.87.

They are playing Baccarat but nobody really pays attention. The floors are pink, the ceilings are covered in cherubs.

EX-WIFE #1 The credit card he ordered for his girlfriend came to my house. Long story short, he had taken me off of his account (mind you, I am his WIFE). A month later, a brand new Amex shows up in the mail, addressed to another woman. I was thinking that the mailman put something in my box for someone else, but nope, it was my address, and her name. How dumb can you be?

EX-WIFE #1 Our son Leo’s music teachers. Now I understand why he wanted him to learn all those instruments.

They all laugh. Patrizia is mildly horrified.

EX-WIFE #2 Men never change.

EX-WIFE #2 How are things going with Paolo?

She produces a GUCCI handbag. All eyes on Patrizia.

88.88.

EX-WIFE #1 “I need space”...”give me time”...

EX-WIFE #2 Just get a great divorce lawyer now. Load up the gun. I can refer you. He’s a handsome devil, too.

Patrizia blows up.

She slams the CARD on the table.

A TAROT CARD LANDING on a red felt table.

Patrizia is drinking a glass of wine, smoking, her eyes red with fresh tears, while Pina finishes doing her Tarot cards.

89.89.

Patrizia hobbles over and they embrace. Long, hard.

They smile warmly at each other. Pina wipes her tears.

Patrizia removes an envelope BUSTING with cash. Hands it to Pina, who takes it and hides it in a secret floorboard. We see dozens of similar envelopes all written for Pina. She’s making a fortune off of Patrizia.

SLOW-MOTION: The elevators open and out step MAURIZIO, DE SOLE, two IRAQI BUSINESSMEN (both wearing sunglasses). The quartet make their way down the long hallway. They stop outside a suite. Knock knock.

Maurizio notices a dozen bottles of DOM PERIGNON peeking out of the room service cart outside the suite. Expensive taste.

90.90.

Maurizio and De Sole enter the luxurious suite. Louis XIV but with Italian style. De Sole discretely carries a DUFFEL BAG.

MAURIZIO’S POV: sitting in the middle of the room with his back to us is a very large man in his mid 50s. Slicked back raven hair, matching tracksuit. His feet are in a foot jacuzzi. He is watching a soccer game. Meet NEMIR KIRDAR.

There is only one chair, opposite Kirdar. De Sole sits behind them, silently. Knows his place. The other two Iraqis next to him. But this scene is between two men: MAURIZIO and KIRDAR.

Maurizio gestures to De Sole, who brings him his BRIEFCASE. Maurizio pulls out a 10-inch stack of financial documents.

91.91.

He rises from his foot jacuzzi and walks to a closet, leaving a wet trail behind. There are dozens of SHOES. His weakness. He dries his feet and slips a pair of moccasins on.

The two men move to the bar. Kirdar prepares drinks: a Scotch for himself, a Pepsi for Maurizio. Knows he doesn’t drink.

92.92.

Kirdar is a tough cookie. This is the most delicate part of the meeting and Maurizio knows it. It’s make or break. He pushes his glasses in and looks Kirdar square in the eyes.

He slowly moves to the T.V. showing the soccer game.

Kirdar takes a long, hard look at the T.V. screen. A.C. Milan has won the Champions League final. Cue: orgasmic jubilation.

De Sole, perfectly cued, loosens the duffel bag. Removes an intricate shoebox. Ceremoniously places it on the table.

Maurizio opens the box, revealing...

Kirdar takes the shoe and looks like a pig in shit.

93.93.

He’s won the big man over. And with great style.

A flurry of families embracing each other at the arrivals gate. Paolo cranes his neck and waves nervously at ALDO. Aldo is gaunt. Older. Panama hat, linen suit. A shell of a man.

He hands Paolo his suitcases, shakes his hand.

Father and son are lost looking for Paolo’s car. He can’t remember where he parked. This has been going on a while.

Paolo wheels Aldo’s suitcases around. Drops them. A mess.

They finally find the car. It’s still the same Alfa- only the soft top has a gash in it, the sides are rusted, and the color has faded. Paolo loads Aldo’s suitcase in the trunk, then turns to him and blurts out -

Aldo puts his hand over Paolo’s mouth. Forever in control.

94.94.

We go through Paolo’s new digs, the sound of AM radio getting louder. The apartment is barren. Boxes left unopened. Mouse traps in the corner. We enter the KITCHEN where Aldo sits at the table, a bowl of pasta e fagioli and a glass of milk opposite him. Chugs it.

Paolo fidgets anxiously, keeps himself busy by tidying up.

Paolo’s shaking hand extends the INTERCORP PROPOSAL LETTER to Aldo, who keeps eating and reads it, dismissively.

95.95.

Aldo gets up and grabs the salt and pepper himself.

Paolo bursts out crying. Collapses into Aldo’s arms, who drops the salt and pepper. They crash onto the floor.

We pull back as Aldo repeats this mantra, painfully.

A GUCCI HANDBAG sits on an empty chair. Patrizia is saving the seat next to her. She constantly checks her watch.

Patrizia’s POV: Allegra is on stage performing a ballet recital. She notices DE SOLE making his way in. Bad omen.

96.96.

Parents are mingling and discussing the evening’s show. Patrizia is off to the side, squeezing Allegra’s hand, as she talks to De Sole.

The other parents look over, Patrizia’s shouting overheard. Allegra exchanges glances with two other little girls who are looking at her like “Why is your mum screaming at school”.

He hands her the papers but she gives them right back to him.

97.97.

De Sole doesn’t answer. Which of course is an answer. Patrizia’s hand goes limp, releasing Allegra who runs over to her classmates. Running away from her own mother.

Allegra hides behind her friends. Peers out at Patrizia.

Patrizia steps right up to him.

We pass a couple of outrageously extravagant yachts, their occupants laughing and lounging on their decks. Floating mansions belonging to the “fuck-you-rich” crowd.

We stop at the most striking of them all. THE CREOLE. A three- masted, 200 foot schooner. Maurizio’s pride.

98.98.

Tight on: A COCKTAIL GLASS. Maurizio pours a shot of Gin into it, stirs it around. Unsure, he pours another shot in.

He puts on LAMBADAby Kaoma on a state-of-the-art CD player.

He grabs the drink and crosses the Yacht’s deckhouse, decorated in sumptuous style. Artworks and handmade pieces carved from solid ebony and marble. The Creole’s emblem, a pair of intertwined seahorses, hangs above a BLOOD RED COUCH.

On the couch, sprawled out in a bikini, is PAOLA FRANCHI. She takes her drink. Sips. Smiles. Maurizio joins her.

Maurizio points at a framed B&W photo hanging on the wall. It shows the Creole at its worst. A RELIC.

She puts her cocktail down and puts her hand on his lap.

99.99.

Silence.

She takes his hand and pulls him up. They sway to the music with their eyes closed. She guides his hands to her waist.

Pina’s eyes are closed too. She sits at the tarot table while Patrizia paces nervously in front of her.

Back to the Lambada. Maurizio and Paola are full-on dancing. Her head on his chest. She pulls back and speaks to him, inches from his lips.

100.100.

Pina’s eyes are wide open now. She is in a trance-like state (or at least she seems like it). She mumbles something under her breath. A tear runs down her face. She is distraught.

Maurizio and Paola are now naked, entangled in one another. Something catches her gaze. A huge FAMILY PORTRAIT of Maurizio, Patrizia and Allegra looking down on them.

Angle on: Pina’s hands SQUEEZING Patrizia’s, hard. Her face is tight, pain painted on it. She suffers for her friend.

Pina turns the cards over. She gets up, stumbles towards the open window. Dizzy. Takes deep breaths of polluted Milan air.

Maurizio and Paola are going at it. The Creole rocks back and forth. The portrait slides off the cabinet, falling onto the floor. Crashing. They couldn’t care less.

Patrizia makes her way onto the boat holding her heels in her hands. She means business.

101.101.

A BOAT-HAND ignores Patrizia, sweeps the upper deck.

He shakes his head no and continues sweeping. She enters.

POV Patrizia: she glances at the environment carefully, a detective looking to uncover evidence. Everything looks in order. She walks past the bar... the red couch... steps onto the zebra rug.

As she walks around, she notices the missing portrait on the cabinet. Specifically, the dust outline of where it USED TO BE. It has since moved an inch. And then, she looks at the floor and notices faintindentations of heels. Clue #2.

Finally... she makes her way over to the couch and looks at the window above it. The faint imprint of a HAND splayed out on the glass. All the clues she ever needed. It hits her.

She sits on the couch and stares at the floor. Overwhelmed.

The farthest corner of a noirish bar. Red walls, red drapes, red drinks. Sitting at a table- ALDO, his hand on his Gucci cane; PAOLO next to him. Opposite them: KIRDAR and his two IRAQI EXECS. Kirdar slides some documents forward.

Aldo interrupts him.

102.102.

The Iraqi execs look at each other. They’re not used to their boss being spoken to this way.

Paolo looks down at his Negroni. Mortified.

103.103.

Aldo throws shade at Paolo. Then looks back at Kirdar. Suddenly, something catches Aldo’s gaze.

Kirdar’s moccasins. Peering from under the red tablecloth.

Kirdar removes one of the moccasins from his foot. Aldo takes it from him, holds it. It is burgundy, supple. Classic Gucci.

He removes the sole and points to the golden lining hidden inside the shoe.

104.104.

Maurizio paces back and forth, puts out his cigarette in an overflowing ash tray. De Sole is next to him, cleaning his glasses by the telephone. They stare at the phone. The clock.

Suddenly there’s a KNOCK. Maurizio runs towards it excitedly.

Opens it. His jaw hits the floor. Not who he hoped for.

ALDO and PAOLO.

They make their way inside. Not a word is spoken.

Aldo removes the shares documents from his briefcase and holds them up. Maurizio has been exposed.

Before he has a chance to say more, Aldo SLAPS his nephew across the face. It’s the closest thing to getting punched he’ll ever come to. His glasses go FLYING across the room.

Next, very deliberately: Aldo SITS down at Maurizio’s desk. BRUSHES a ton of stuff aside with his Gucci cane, making a mess. UNSCREWS his Mont Blanc fountain pen. SPITS on it.

And SIGNS his Gucci shares away. His gaze planted onto Maurizio. Essentially cutting his veins in front of him.

Then he gets up. Tears running down his face. A BROKEN MAN.

He extends his hand to Maurizio, who hesitantly shakes it.

Aldo puts his hat on. Grabs his cane. Slips his arm into Paolo’s and hobbles away. Leaving Maurizio and De Sole alone.

105.105.

Maurizio on the phone, in a double-breasted suit and 70s style sunglasses in his lavish, outrageously new expensive office. Looking more like a crime lord than a fashion mogul.

FLASH: we realize he’s been posing for cameras.

SUPER: covers of ELLE, VOGUE and HARPER’S BAZAAR cross the screen. Dawn of Gucci.Out with Gucci Gauche. Fashion Feud.

INTERVIEW: Maurizio is sitting with ANNA WINTOUR, Editor of VOGUE. He is incredibly POISED, ELEGANT, MANAGERIAL.

SNAPSHOT: Maurizio hands De Sole a revised INVENTORY OF ITEMS. There are red lines running across almost everything.

SNAPSHOT: a removal team sweeps dozens of Gucci products off of shelves. Unceremoniously dumps them into crates. Low-end canvas pocketbooks. Coffee mugs. Money Clips. Poorly made leather shoes. It’s a Gucci-kitsch graveyard.

SNAPSHOT: we’re seeing GUCCI STORES in various locations undergoing costly refurbishments to make them more extravagant. The items being brought in are insanely gaudy.

106.106.

SNAPSHOT: Delivery trucks outside Maurizio’s new CORSO VENEZIA APARTMENT. They are delivering an ENORMOUS Japanese cabinet. 12th century. It belongs in a museum.

This is Maurizio's new pad: a lavish three-floor apartment which he has moved into with PAOLA FRANCHI.

As the movers set down the cabinet, directed by Paola, we see where a lot of the Gucci money is going: marble and wood inlaid floors, entire rooms filled with mysterious antiques, stained glass windows taken from 15th century churches, an indoor swimming pool, a movie theater. Palatial and, simply, the kind of place that would make Donald Trump jealous.

De Sole, Omar and Said from Investcorp sit in the conference room hearing him rant and rave. They look exhausted.

Maurizio pops yet another Pepsi open. He’s on his 56th today.

107.107.

De Sole pulls up an article and hands it to Maurizio, who looks at it squinting since it’s so small.

De Sole has to circle it with his pen for him.

Shaking his head, pondering this.

141 LATER: 141

Maurizio, De Sole and a young, dapper designer look over the designer’s PORTFOLIO. The work is sleek, inspired, fresh.

ON TOM FORD - 30 years old, good-looking, casual chic in a black leather jacket over a white shirt. He sits back in the leather chair at the head of the table. Super confident.

108.108.

Maurizio closes the portfolio. Suddenly melancholic.

Maurizio can’t help but smile at this brash Texan.

De Sole beams proudly as though to say “toldja”. Maurizio looks like he wants to understand, but is out of his depth.

Patrizia and Pina are getting skin scrubs in a volcanic mud pit, smoking away- only their eyes are left uncovered. Patrizia finishes reading the Vogue story. Waves it at her.

109.109.

Patrizia reaches out for a very stiff glass of Scotch behind her, drinks and chews the ice in a frenzy. And smokes.

Patrizia wipes the mud of her face. Puts the cigarette out in her glass of Scotch.

110.110.

She rises out of the mud and gets rinsed off by an attendant.

The Milanese fog is heavy, thick, and reminiscent of the fog from Patrizia and Maurizio’s Navigli tryst many years ago. Except now it is dark and mysterious. Ominous.

ON PATRIZIA: She stands across the street, in her mink coat, shivering. Waiting. Suddenly the RUMBLE of a sports car:

A FERRARI F40 ($1.5 Million) pulls up outside the building.

The door opens. MAURIZIO steps out. Alone.

ON PATRIZIA. She walks across the street. Slowly then faster.

A look of FEAR comes over Maurizio. Who could it be?

Maurizio turns around, sees Patrizia. Annoyed but relieved it’s “just” her and not someone out to, say, kidnap him...

Patrizia is clutching something under her arm. We don’t know what it is. Too dark to see. We wonder:“Is it a gun?”

111.111.

She grabs his hand. He pulls back.

The PORTER cranes his neck out of the vestibule, curious as to who Maurizio is speaking to.

Patrizia pulls out the dark object she’s been hiding. It’s a book of PHOTOGRAPHS she’s been carefully collecting.

She starts flipping through photos. Memories, faded with time. Carefully arranged in order. Maurizio is unfazed.

Not the answer she was hoping for. He makes for the stairs. She pulls him back.

112.112.

In a rare moment of affection (however cruel) Maurizio removes his gloves and places his hands on Patrizia’s devastated face. Half lovingly, half menacingly.

She looks up. A wounded tiger.

He turns his back, makes his way up the marbled steps, greets the Porter and leaves Patrizia in a state of total despair. But before he goes, one last arrow straight to her heart.

Patrizia stumbles back onto the street, which is now EVEN FOGGIER. She wipes tears from her eyes, struggles to see.

As she walks in an absolute daze. We follow her distraught face. She can barely breathe. MOS except for music swelling.

She crosses the street. Nothing around her. Just surreal fog. A strong light illuminating her face...

113.113.

POV Patrizia: through the fog, a light approaches. She covers her eyes. THWOOOOOMP!

A VESPA. Skids to a halt but not fast enough. SLAMS INTO HER.

SLO-MOTION: PATRIZIA goes FLYING.

The book of photographs SPILLS onto the sidewalk.

PATRIZIA HITS THE GROUND. Blood leaking from her mouth.

OVER BLACK:

The sound of BLEEPING.

POV PATRIZIA: A NURSE attaches an IV drip into her arm.

Patrizia turns to the left and catches a REFLECTION of herself in a mirror. She is completely BALD. A 8 inch SCAR runs across her scalp.

The nurse ignores her. Continues taking Patrizia’s vital stats, scribbles them on her medical records.

Pina walks into the room carrying a bag. She removes DIFFERENT WIGS from it and lay them out onto the bed for Patrizia to review. One of them is bright red.

She hands the wig to Patrizia who throws it across the room.

114.114.

Pina is at a loss for words.

Maurizio and Paola Franchi return home from a TENNIS GAME- both in their crisp white outfits, drenched. He steps into his home office. The answering machine FLASHES RED.

Maurizio slumps in his chair and presses PLAY.

Maurizio presses the “SKIP” button. Another voice-mail from Patrizia. Just heavy breathing. Demonic. TERRIFYING.

SKIP. Another message. And another. And-- Maurizio clumsily RIPS the tape out and places it in a desk drawer.

PAOLA walks in. Wraps her arms around him. He cracks a smile.

She kisses his neck, oblivious. Runs her hand down his chest. We hold on his expression: perplexed and... afraid.

115.115.

TITLE UP: 1995

PATRIZIA smokes, sits by the window of a dingy Chinese restaurant. Chinese Muzak plays. She is wearing a wig, oversized sunglasses, and is bathed in the restaurant’s flickering RED and GREEN neon signage. Pina sits next to her.

The Chinese drapes part open and two men walk in. One is lean, elegant, youngish. This is BENEDETTO (30s). The other man is somewhat older, and glum. This is IVANO (50s).

Patrizia gives them the slightest nod. They make their way and sit down at her table. Patrizia checks her watch.

Ivano extends his hand. Patrizia looks at it perplexed, offers him half an inch of her leather-gloved hand.

116.116.

Question answered. Benedetto plays with chopsticks, completely uninterested. Aspergers-y.

Benedetto pulls out a pen and scribbles something on the Chinese takeaway menu.

Patrizia is bluffing and Pina knows it.

Bingo. The only words spoken by Benedetto are the right ones.

Ivano looks at Benedetto who gives him a sign. “Ok”.

117.117.

RED AND GREEN VELVET fills the frame. Projected onto it, the word GUCCI. The crowd’s murmur fades as the show begins.

Massive Attack’s BLUE LINES kicks in. Its pulsating rhythm dangerous, modern, seductive.

Parading down a spotlighted, smokey runway, like an otherworldly apparition, is a stone-faced 90s SUPERMODEL. She is dressed in one of Tom Ford’s seventies-tinged designs signaling a sexy, super-glam new direction.

Soon she is joined by a gaggle of MODELS.

ON THE AUDIENCE: no way of knowing if they’re impressed yet. Just... surprised. A FASHIONISTA wearing white-rimmed glasses turns to her colleague.

More models step out onto the runway. This time MEN.

Jewel-tone satin shirts. Velvet hip-huggers. Horse bit leather loafers with the race car finish. And the SHOCKER:

A male model turns around to expose... his bare ass in chaps.

148 BACKSTAGE, LATER: 148

We glide through COMPLETE CHAOS. Half-naked MODELS running around. DRESSERS helping models get into outfits. The show’s DIRECTOR screaming into a walkie-talkie. The LIGHTING TECHNICIAN at the mixing board fading lights in/out.

And we land on: TOM FORD, pacing nervously and quickly pulling on a model’s blazer before sending him out onto the runway. DE SOLE, next to him, watching the audience from the sidelines. And KIRDAR, whose gaze is firmly fixed on the dozens of half-naked girls surrounding him. Happy as a clam.

In a corner, looking like a deer in headlights, is MAURIZIO. A couple of people move him around. He’s IN THE WAY.

The show director gestures to Tom Ford. Signals him: 3,2,1...

Tom Ford steps onto the runway to RAUCOUS APPLAUSE. Standing ovations. A bouquet of flowers handed to him.

A FASHION SUPERSTAR IS BORN.

118.118.

De Sole and Kirdar EMBRACE: both men delighted with the reception the show is getting. Maurizio awkwardly walks through the hugging, kissing, crying crew.

WE TRACK THROUGH THE AUDIENCE to find:

PATRIZIA. The only person whose gaze is NOT directed at Tom Ford. But rather at Maurizio in the wings. Venom in her eyes.

POV MAURIZO: He sees her. But as people rise and clap, she vanishes, wiped away by a passing silhouette.

BACKSTAGE:

Tom Ford has a magnum of CHAMPAGNE poured all over himself by a couple models. He opens his mouth as they pour some directly in it. He steals the bottle and SPRAYS his assistants, dressers, designers. A victory lap.

DE SOLE hangs back, watching his protegé run amok for a few moments. MAURIZIO moseys up next to him.

De Sole knows this was his doing. And yet--

From across the wings, KIRDAR catches De Sole’s eye. “Do it”.

119.119.

Maurizio suddenly pales. This can’t be good news.

De Sole leaves Maurizio to ponder this as he disappears into the crowd.

The SUNDAY BELLS ring at a nearby church. Maurizio walks across the cobblestones of the 17th centurypiazza looking like a man on his way to the hanging tree.

He arrives at the ANCIENT DOORS leading into Boeucc, the oldest restaurant in town. They open like a lion’s mouth.

Vaulted ceilings, linen tablecloths, silver cutlery, crystal glasses. The essence of the late XIX century. It is still early and most Milanese are at Sunday Mass. So, it is virtually empty. Except for:

TOM FORD. KIRDAR. DE SOLE. OMAR. SAID. They are LISTENING as Tom Ford reads from a review in Sunday’s New York Times. Tom is still wearing last night’s clothes. He’s hungover and definitely reeks of champagne.

Tom Ford goes quiet as he reads the articles to himself. He puts a hand on his mouth as though to say, “am I dreaming”.

Tom Ford looks up at De Sole. Tears streaming down his face.

120.120.

Tom gets up and rushes out just as Maurizio enters. Tom doesn’t see him, his nose stuck in the newspaper.

A very different mood welcomes Maurizio at the table.

Maurizio sits on one end of the table- facing the other four men. The solitary WAITER brings a bottle of wine to the table. They watch him silently as he uncorks and pours it.

A SECOND WAITER lays out a couple plates of “antipasti”.

Maurizio serves himself, passes the plate around. Kirdar, Omar and Said are SPEAKING TO EACH OTHER IN ARABIC. No idea what is being said. Maurizio looks at De Sole for clues.

Maurizio presses his glasses into his face. Sweating bullets.

121.121.

Omar places a FINANCIAL SUMMARY in front of Maurizio. A list of his recklessness. Maurizio thumbs through it.

Said and Omar laugh at this. Said shakes his finger at him as though to say “funny... but no”.

122.122.

Said and Omar nod to Maurizio: “so glad you understand!”

Kirdar holds his open hands up as if to say: "I have no tricks up my sleeve". Then he looks away and makes a distressed look on his face. Turns to the silent party:

De Sole is ICE COLD. He wipes his mouth and slowly, deliberately, makes it clear whose side he’s on.

This was always the direction in which the meeting was headed. But to hear it said by De Sole- possibly Maurizio’s closest, oldest ally- burns like hell.

All eyes on De Sole. Nothing more needs to be said.

Maurizio recalls Patrizia’s distrust of De Sole.

He extends a MONT-BLANC PEN. The same model Aldo used to sell his soul to Maurizio previously. What goes around...

123.123.

The tip of the pen oozes black ink, like a poisoned dart. Maurizio stares at it. If he signs, it will be the end of Gucci and the beginning of a new era. Without him.

As Maurizio contemplates this monumental decision, SAID AND OMAR taste the carpaccio, savoring its tenderness. They speak Arabic to each other then turn to the waiter.

The waiter proudly announces to the table:

Maurizio looks at the carpaccio on his plate.

It’s from the same cows used to make Gucci leather.

Maurizio stumbles out of the meeting like a featherweight that just went fifty rounds with a wrecking ball. Completely stunned. Drained of color. His hubris reduced to rubble.

As he walks around in a daze, he overhears a voice.

He looks over at a HOMELESS MAN sitting on a Church stoop.

Maurizio makes his way over to the homeless man and removes something from his pocket.

ANGLE ON: THE GG WALLET HIS FATHER GAVE HIM BEFORE DYING.

He hands it to the homeless man and sits next to him.

The man opens it. It’s empty. He smells it. Shrugs.

Decides to keep it.

Patrizia is locked in her bedroom forging Maurizio’s signature on a letter addressed to ALLEGRA. She unfolds the top portion and draws a heart. As she reads it through, a drop of WATER lands next to a bowl near her. She looks up: there are severe HUMIDITY CRACKS in the ceiling.

124.124.

Suddenly, the PHONE RINGS. Patrizia answers it.

Pause. Grips it as though holding onto life itself.

Patrizia listens some more.

Patrizia walks out into the living room. The apartment is in very bad shape since we last saw it. Furniture is wrapped in plastic to protect it from water damage. Unattended tools lying around everywhere due to unpaid labor.

ALLEGRA is reading Dylan Dog (an Italian comic book). Patrizia slides up next to her. Stunned by the phone call.

Allegra scrutinizes Patrizia’s letter. She places it in a stack of letters on the mantelpiece. All signed similarly.

She adjusts her mother’s wig. Caresses her face.

Allegra unintentionally gives her mother a blessing for whatever awfulness she has been cooking up in her head.

Patrizia opens a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. She is frozen in place, staring at the wine as it fills up.

125.125.

She doesn’t stop. The wine overflows, runs all over the table and into her lap, a sea of red that she does not acknowledge.

Allegra pulls at her mum’s arm. Mouths “MUM” to her.

Patrizia snaps out of her trance-like state. COVERED IN RED.

THROUGH A DIRTY WINDSHIELD:

We are pulling up very slowly into the sketchiest street in Milan. Street hookers step out in front of the car, hoping it’s a client. Pimps stare suspiciously from the stoops of the “hotels” (whorehouses).

Pina is driving her Fiat Uno (a sardine can on wheels). Patrizia is next to her. Both women are smoking.

Patrizia reaches for a gym bag by her feet. Suddenly Pina’s hand grabs her wrist.

Checkmate. Pina is a co-conspirator.

126.126.

Broken neon at the top of the building identifies our destination. The Hotel Adry. A flophouse.

Patrizia grabs a bag sitting by her feet and heads straight over to the hotel.

WE FOLLOW HER as she makes her way over, past a gallery of grotesque faces straight out of a Hyeronimous Bosch painting.

She makes her way up the red-tinted stairs, into:

Where A ROMANIAN hooker is snoring open-mouthed on the couch. Patrizia nudges her awake.

The prostitute comes to, gestures with her head. “Over there”. Patrizia makes her way over towards:

THE HOTEL LOUNGE- a couple of garden chairs, a drinks machine and a cheap bunny-eared TV.

BENEDETTO and IVANO are watching a cartoon on TV.

They immediately straighten up as soon as Patrizia walks in.

She places the BAG on the table. They’s SURPRISED SHE CAME.

Benedetto and Ivano open the bag. It’s overflowing with CASH.

The two men are still processing the money in the bag.

127.127.

Ivano quickly grabs a napkin and a pen, starts scribbling.

Patrizia, Benedetto and Ivano step into the hotel room. The worn carpet has a large dark stain on it. Patrizia steps over it, advancing slowly. It’s a far cry from any place she’s ever been in.

There is a bathroom door in the depth of the room. Benedetto toes the door. It creaks slowly open.

Patrizia and Ivano wait for him as the bathroom light goes on: bright. White tile. Benedetto fumbles with the TOILET TANK.

He steps back into the bedroom holding the rag out for Patrizia to see. She unwraps it. RevealsA PISTOL.

She points the gun at various objects in the room, squinting. Imagining they’re targets. Benedetto opens his palm, shows her the 9mm bullets. She takes one and studies it.

Not a joke. She hands it back to the two men.

TITLE UP: Monday March 27, 1995: 7:59am

We are outside Maurizio’s new apartment. The city is slowly waking up on Monday morning. A posse of students with their backpacks spill into a bus on the corner.

128.128.

Parked on the other side of the front door is a completely unremarkable GREEN RENAULT CLIO. Inside it:

BENEDETTO and IVANO.

Benedetto is at the wheel. A photo of MAURIZIO pressed against the steering wheel. Ivano is seated next to him.

They look over at the building’s DOORWAY.

The building's PORTER is sweeping leaves from the doorway.

A BUSINESSMAN IN HIS 50s starts chatting to the porter, half- hidden in the entryway.

Ivano cocks his Beretta and is about to head over. Benedetto stops him.

Benedetto almost doubts Ivano. Finger on the trigger. Checks the photo against the man’s profile. Definitely not Maurizio.

They are both JOLTED by Ivano’s Casio alarm clock- *8:00am*-

AN ALARM CLOCK GOES OFF: Patrizia’s. Also signaling *8:00am*

Patrizia is fully submerged in a bath. She’s underwater for what seems like an eternity.

Finally she comes up for air. She is not wearing her wig.

She wraps a robe around herself and leaves the bathroom.

Benedetto and Ivano see MAURIZIO coming out of the building. He walks rights past the porter. No small talk.

Benedetto is about to go but this time it’s Ivano who stops.

He raises the photo to Maurizio, verifying his profile.

He can’t quite tell if it is or it isn’t. Maurizio presses his glasses into his face. It’s definitely him.

129.129.

Benedetto steps outside with the gun in his coat pocket. But with a stream of honking cars blocking him from crossing the street, he watches Maurizio disappear around the corner.

Into BAR BRUNO.

Benedetto stalks his prey carefully - watches him through the curtained windows.

Maurizio appears lost in thought. Mistakes. Regrets. A lost legacy. He can’t shake it off. He wears the shadow of Gucci.

A waiter places an espresso and a brioche next to him.

Angle on: the pair of DOUBLE G GUCCI CUFFLINKS. We recognize them from the opening.

Patrizia and Pina are in pitch black: Curtains drawn, lit only by Pina’s candles. A series of CARDS laid out on the table. All depicting female saints.

BENEDETTO has followed Maurizio out of Bar Bruno and walks 20 feet behind him.

As Maurizio approaches his office’s steps, BENEDETTO pulls out the Beretta.

Maurizio turns around. Squints. Presses his glasses into his nose to better see. One final time.

Benedetto fumbles with the gun. Cocks it. And FIRES.

BLAM! One bullet enters at the HIP.

BLAM! The second at the left SHOULDER.

BLAM! Hits Maurizio’s arm.

Maurizio slumps to the floor. Blood leaking out of him.

Maurizio crawls up the steps. Benedetto comes to stand over him. He fires a fourth into Maurizio's right temple.

THE PORTER steps outside of the vestibule, holding a broom.

130.130.

Benedetto aims the gun towards the Porter and fires two more shots, one of which hits the Porter in the shoulder. He slides down the wall to the ground.

Benedetto runs back down the steps and gets in the Clio, which takes off at speed along the avenue.

Patrizia goes to light her cigarette with a candle. It FLICKERS eerily. She throws a glance at Pina. Even she looks genuinely spooked. Interrupted by:

The distant sound of AMBULANCES. POLICE CARS.

The two women exchange glances.

THE PHONE RINGS. All we need to know.Maurizio is dead.

MUSIC CUE: PUCCINI’S MADAMA BUTTERFLY, HUMMING CHORUS (ACT 2)

Alone, Patrizia opens her journal. As she flicks through it we see some of her entries.

They detail an OBSESSION with Maurizio’s every movement.

Feb 4: MAURIZIO AT LA RINASCENTE. BUYING PERFUME.

Feb 6: MAURIZIO JOGGING. WHY? NEVER LIKED RUNNING.

Feb 7: MAURIZIO CALLED AND TALKED TO ALLEGRA FOR 242 SECONDS.

She writes the new and final entry for March 17th, 1995:

PARADISO. (heaven)

A single TEAR drops onto the page. Then another. Smudging it.

MAURIZIO’S FUNERAL is underway. Patrizia is in a black lace funeral dress, dark lipstick and sunglasses. She holds Allegra’s hand. Allegra wipes tears from her eyes.

As Maurizio’s casket makes its way outside, various guests beeline to offer Patrizia their condolences.

Her expression remains imperturbable- until a familiar face approaches her. De Sole.

131.131.

He knows.

Patrizia and Allegra elbow their way through a crowd of onlookers and journalists. A couple of LAWYERS by her side.

She continues surging forward into the building.

Patrizia rings the doorbell. Holds Allegra’s hand.

A distraught, tear-stained Paola Franchi opens the door. Patrizia and her rival stand face-to-face. Without saying a word, Patrizia crosses the threshold. An act of hostility.

While Paola is in the living room discussing the legalities of her eviction with a team of lawyers, Patrizia is in Maurizio’s old closet. She goes through his suits, his coats. Finds a big beige raincoat.

She removes it from the rack, wraps it around herself and slumps in the chair. Taking big, deep breaths into it.

Allegra walks into the room. She curls up in a ball by Patrizia’s feet.

She kisses Allegra on the forehead.

132.132.

Maurizio and Patrizia lie in bed next to each other.

Patrizia- immaculately dressed in all-black- sits in a courtroom. A beam of light shining down from the skylight.

An oddly vacant look has come over her features.

The look of a woman who has done the unthinkable.

Patrizia looks up and we PIVOT around her. We see the Italian justice hall alive with lawyers, witnesses, journalists.

Patrizia looks over at PINA who looks like she hasn’t slept in a decade. And next to Pina are BENEDETTO and IVANO.

The voice off-screen belongs to a JUDGE.

PATRIZIA TURNS STRAIGHT TO THE CAMERA, BREAKS THE 4TH WALL.

FREEZE ON PATRIZIA’S FACE.

133.133.

IN 1997 PATRIZIA REGGIANI GUCCI WAS ARRESTED FOR THE MURDER OF MAURIZIO GUCCI. SO TOO WERE PINA AURIEMMA, BENEDETTO CERAULO AND IVANO SAVIONI.

ALL WERE FOUND GUILTY.

PATRIZIA WAS SENTENCED TO 29 YEARS IN PRISON; PINA TO 25 YEARS; IVANO TO 29 YEARS; BENEDETTO RECEIVED A LIFE SENTENCE.

SIX MONTHS LATER, PAOLO GUCCI DIED IN POVERTY IN A LONDON HOSPITAL, LESS THAN A MILE FROM THE SAVOY HOTEL.

UNDER THE LEADERSHIP OF DOMENICO DE SOLE AND TOM FORD, GUCCI BECAME THE BIGGEST SUCCESS STORY IN THE FASHION WORLD.

AS OF 2019, GUCCI IS ONE OF THE MOST PROFITABLE BRANDS WORLDWIDE. ITS ESTIMATED VALUE:

$22 BILLION.

THERE ARE CURRENTLY NO MEMBERS OF THE GUCCI FAMILY AT GUCCI.