#no dogs or italians allowed

[gael-garcia]

TOP FIRST-TIME WATCHES OF 2024 tagged by @hayaomiyazaki thank you<3

Rules: Post 9 of your favorite films you saw for the first time this year that are not new (2023/2024) but are new to you, and tag 9 others to do the same.

I broke the rules I'm sorry this is 12

That Day, On the Beach (1983 🇹🇼), dir. Edward Yang Barber's Tales (2013 🇵🇭), dir. Jun Lana Leila and the Wolves (1984 🇱🇧🇵🇸), dir. Heiny Srour Looking for Langston (1989 🇬🇧), dir. Isaac Julien There Is No Evil (2020 🇮🇷), dir. Mohammad Rasoulof They Do Not Exist (1974 🇵🇸), dir. Mustafa Abu Ali Tokyo Godfathers (2003 🇯🇵), dir. Satoshi Kon No Dogs or Italians Allowed (2022), dir. Alain Ughetto Jefferson Circus Songs (1974), dir. Suzan Pitt Winter Kept Us Warm (1965 🇨🇦), dir. David Secter Cleaners (2019 🇵🇭), dir. Glenn Barit The White Meadows (2009 🇮🇷), dir. Mohammad Rasoulof

tagging @igneousbody @ourlittlesister2015 @natalia-lafourcade @nonbinarybriarmoss @lesbiancolumbo @sarazanmai @albertserra @chutiyaaa @illgiveyouahint @isabelleadjani @cooperhoward @muozu @farminglesbian @lady-arryn @moonlight

[gregor-samsung]

Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens [Manodopera] (Alain Ughetto, 2022)

[ourlittlesister2015]

No Dogs or Italians Allowed [Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens] (2022), dir. Alain Ughetto

[whatamigonnawatchtoday]

Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens (No Dogs or Italians Allowed)

2023. Animated Period Drama

By Alain Ughetto

Voices: Ariane Ascaride, Stefano Paganini, Diego Giuliani, Christophe Gatto, Laurent Pasquier, Laura Devoti, Bruno Fontaine, Thierry Buenafuente...

Country: France, Switzerland, Italy

Language: French, Italian

[toon-feasts]

No Dogs or Italians Allowed (2022) dir. Alain Ughetto

[lefilmdujour]

Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens / Alain Ughetto / Italy, France and Switzerland / 2022

[thoughtportal]

No Dogs or Italians Allowed / Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens (2023) - Trailer (English Subs)

Early 20th century, Northern Italy. The Ughetto family, living through difficult times, dreams of a better future abroad. The story tells of Luigi Ughetto crossing the Alps to start a new life in France, thus changing the destiny of his beloved family forever. His grandson travels back in time revisiting their history, in an intimate dialogue with his grandmother Cesira.

[cineclubsala1]

Interdit aux chiens et aux italiens, dir. Alain Ughetto (2022)

[pacingmusings]

Seen in 2024:

No Dogs or Italians Allowed (Alain Ughetto), 2022

[moviecinepelis]

[chromatic-lamina]

I watched this on the plane on my travels today. It was heartwarming. Has a lot to say in its own quiet way. Very clever, too.

[gael-garcia]

No Dogs or Italians Allowed (2022, Alain Ughetto)

[gregor-samsung]

Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens [Manodopera] (Alain Ughetto, 2022)

[ourlittlesister2015]

No Dogs or Italians Allowed [Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens] (2022), dir. Alain Ughetto

[bisquid]

Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

I am in Cardiff

For a concert I am attending solo

Doors open at 5

4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'

Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy

Find McDonald's

McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce

Directly across the street

Is an Italian restaurant

It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit

Go over

Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)

"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)

Inside restaurant is Deserted

Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine

Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component

Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard

Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen

Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers

I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between

Am finally brought food

It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist

It is all delicious

Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing

Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish

She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up

I am 27 and only nominally female

I am not remotely lost

She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food

I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food

'do you want to pay for the food?'

'.... Not if I don't have to?'

'good'

I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel

I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)

I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends

The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food

'yeah it was great!'

Everyone laughs a bit

I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off

I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Ten

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series masterlist

Your arms were wrapped around him, staring up at him as he spoke. He always spoke to the Italian press, speaking on behalf of the both of you. If you were paying attention you would have nodded along with his words, made it look like you knew what was going on.

Truthfully, you didn't have a clue, entirely distracted by him. His arm was around your shoulders, thumb moving so distractingly against your arm. You couldn't help but stare up at him, at his pretty face.

He had entirely captivated you. And he wasn't even trying.

Suddenly, he was staring down at you. Not at the interviewer, not at the camera. At you.

Your insides did flips.

"Birdy," he prompted, his fingers coming to hold your chin. Your lips parted as you kept staring, searching his eyes for the answer he was looking for. You couldn't speak it, but you could nod.

He dropped your chin, made it look as if he hadn't been prompting you. You weren't great with the media, not like Charles. This was the first time you had been allowed around the media without your muzzle and shock collar. Well, when Charles wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in front of the camera, there was no way your handler could pull you away.

Charles thanked the interviewer. You flashed your teeth, hoping it was a smile and not a threat. Funny, isn't it? How smiling wrong can make someone look.

"You did so good, Birdy," he whispered as he walked you back into the garage. You were still holding each other, you were still safely nestled against his side.

You could confidently say that race weekends had become one of your favourite things ever. The energy it took both hyped you up and helped to calm you down. There was no better feeling than a post race nap, if you'd finished with a good amount of points.

Race weekends also meant Max and Charles. They were the only drivers who would talk to you, who didn't still see you as a danger. But it had been weeks since you last snapped at someone, and that was in your F2 days.

The updates you got on Carlos Sainz were few and far between. Just that he was getting better but he was still a long way off racing. Good, that meant more time with Max and Charles. Of course, the second the thought entered your head you felt guilty. No, you didn't want to wish ill on the man, but you never wanted this feeling to end.

Charles walked you across the paddock. The moment he left you alone, your handler would be there, leading you around like you were some dog. Charles led you around but with a kind hand, with his arm around your shoulders and a kiss pressed to your temple.

You walked past the other garages, taking everything in. The smells, the sounds. You loved all of it. Even the different languages spoken throughout the F1 paddock was fascinating to listen to.

Dutch. And a familiar Red Bull shirt. He didn't notice you at first, and you didn't want to bother him while he conducted an interview.

Other drivers walked past you. One lifted his hand and gave you a wave. You knew him, raced against him before. Nut that was when you were back in F2, when he was supposed to go to Alpine. But now he was in McLaren, having success most almost rookies could only dream of (his rookie year was incredible, something to be celebrated).

You waved back, eyes lighting up. At the movement of your hand, Charles looked down. He glanced at Oscar and looked back at you. He tightened his grip on you as his heart swelled with pride. You were waving kindly at someone, not trying to bite their hands. You had grown so much.

"Birdy! Charlie!"

You lifted your head, looked towards Max. The cameras turned to you as you broke away from Charles and ran across the paddock. Max opened his arms for you and you ran into them. Muzzling yourself against his chest, you hummed in contentment. Even if you weren’t racing, being around Max and Charles was enough.

Media day was fun. Media day with Charles was fun. But race day was where you shined.

You sat in the car, waiting for the light to go out. When they did, you were off like a rocket, overtaking two of the cars in front of you as you went into the first corner.

It was a drive you could be proud of. The way you were going, you were on track for a podium,maybe even a win. A win in your rookie season, you were bound to get a seat after that. Was that really what you wanted, though? A career in Formula One?

You blinked, clearing away the thoughts. Anymore thoughts like that and you'd end up in the barrier, hopefully gaining a bad enough injury that you wouldn't get back in the car ever again.

"Box, box."

It pulled you from your ugly thoughts. Box, box. You had barely done ten laps yet. Too early for you to come in, according to your strategy. So, you drove past the pitlane. Max was right behind you, and you were unwilling to lose the leas to him.

"Box, box!" Your engineer insisted. "We have to retire the car.”

"No."

You didn't realise you had said it, but the silence on the other end of the radio was a dead give away. No. A word you hadn't been able to say in years. A word you had been too afraid to say in years.

Suddenly, there was a voice, a French accent. "Birdy, I'm sorry," said Fred. It was so strange to hear your team principles voice during a race. "But you have to bring the car in."

It was easy to listen to Fred. He kept his voice calm when talking to you. He made you want to bring the car in. So, you did as you were told. You pitted the car, and climbed out, trying to hide your disappointment. Keeping your helmet on kept any tears from escaping.

Sitting in the corner of the garage, with your helmet on, you waited. You waited for the race to finish. For the podiums and celebrations, for the drivers to be weighed and for them to return to the garage.

You didn't blame Charles for smiling as he walked in. A win under his belt. But it was a win that should have been yours. No, that was no way to think. You were happy for him, happy he was one step closer to catching Max in the championship.

"Where is she?" You heard him ask. An engineer must have pointed, because the next thing you knew he was in front of you.

His smile was so pretty. You could have stared at it for hours.

Sitting on the floor in front of you, Charles flipped up your visor. "There she is," he whispered. He moved to take your helmet off, but you shook your head. "C'mon Birdy. Gotta get you out of this thing. As soon as we've debriefed with the team, we can head home with Max."

Face the team. When your car had cost them points. You couldn't do it. But the way Charles was looking at you, making you feel as if you could do anything.

You didn't protest as he undid the strap beneath your chin and pulled your helmet from your head. Your hair was a mess, you were a mess, eyes shining with unshed tears. Putting your helmet to one side, Charles pulled you to your sheet. He whispered something in French and led you to your drivers room. "I'm gonna take you home to Monaco with me," he promised.

***

You were beginning to like travelling in style. Sat on Maxs private jet, sharing a seat with him as you had a drink. Maxs face was hot, arm around your shoulder as you leaned against him. It was just your second drink, but the most you'd ever had.

"We're gonna get you in a good car, Birdy," Max had said as you flew. "Get you in a Red Bull."

You had shaken your head at him, you remembered. Your head wasn't fuzzy, but the world around you was moving slower than it should have been. No more driving. You'd drive in the place of Carlos, and that was it.

There was no plans for you in Monaco. You were to stay with Charles, you knew that. Part of it had you giddy, but then your handler followed you into the car. "Don't worry," Charles whispered in your ear.

And you didn't have to worry, bc Charles dropped her off at a hotel. You could still picture your handlers face as Charles drove off, leaving her behind.

That left three of you in the car. We live in the same building, Max had explained to you the moment you realised he was still in the car. There were a few drivers that lived in the same building, but none of them drove there together.

Heading up to the apartment, you expected Max to go his own way. But he was still following you and Charles. You weren't complaining, though. You loved Maxs company, his and Charles's.

Charles let you and Max into the apartment. It was spacious, tastefully decorated with pictures of the f1 cars he had driven. Family pictures, too. Pictures with Arthur.

A piano was pushed against the wall.

The door shut and Max dropped his bags. He stretched his arms up and let out a yawn. "Want something to eat, Birdy?" He asked, but you were distracted, looking around at all the stuff a real f1 career could get you.

Charles rolled his eyes at you. He just found you so damn endearing. He followed Max into the kitchen, kissing him for the first time in days. You didn't witness it, though.

After getting himself something to drink, Charles wandered over to the piano. He sat down and pressed a couple of keys. You walked away from the window, standing behind him as Charles began to play.

Your body began to move. Just small movements, barely noticeable.

"Shut up, Charlie," Max called from the kitchen.

Charles stopped playing and you stopped moving. A whine left your lips and you moved forward, coming to sit beside him. "No," you said through a whine. "I liked it."

You weren't aware of how Charles was staring at you as your fingers hovered over the keys. You didn't know what to press to make sounds as pretty as Charles.

"You liked it," he whispered. "You liked it."

You nodded your head and folded your hands in your lap, waiting for him to continue playing.

So, that was what he did.

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