Cafè Express 1980

Michele Abbagnano Nino Manfredi ekes out a precarious living by moving through the night trains between Naples and Vallo della Lucania, peddling warm drinks—coffee, hot milk, and cappuccino—to passengers who are half-asleep and drifting with the sway of the carriages. He carries his stock in a set of vacuum flasks, tucked into a simple basket, along with handfuls of sugar packets he jokes he’s “borrowed” from railway cafés, moving from carriage to carriage to revive sleepy travelers with a quick, comforting heat.

The reason behind this grueling hustle is painfully clear: a young son who suffers from a congenital heart deficiency, one that may need surgery to grant him a healthier future. That desperate motivation, paired with Michele’s keen eye and quick wit, keeps him in this exhausting line of work, where he’s exceptionally suited to read people and help them in small but meaningful ways. He becomes a trusted presence on the night trains, waking passengers for the stops they need, and weaving little acts of kindness into the fabric of their journeys. He also entertains them with tall tales about his supposed right arm, always hidden beneath a long leather glove he wears as if it were a wooden limb of surprising strength.

His stories are not random fragments but carefully tailored performances designed for whoever is listening. To a young traveler, he might present himself as a pianist whose career was ruined; to a man who dreams of a Carabinieri future, he spins a version of past bravado; to a nun guiding schoolchildren, he recounts how he once saved orphanage boys from a roaring fire; to a WW2 veteran, he narrates a tale of losing a limb on the Eastern Front. Each vignette is adjusted to whatever fears, hopes, or desires the listener carries, turning a routine fare into something almost magical and endlessly adaptable.

One night, Michele’s night of work spirals into danger when he’s chased across the train by a trio of conductors tasked by the Ministry of Transports with ending his activities. The pursuit becomes a test of nerve and improvisation, forcing Michele to navigate a maze of paranoia and reality while keeping his wits about him. Along the way, he encounters the shadow of his own family’s needs—his son’s fragile health weighed against the risks of the road—and intersects with other troubled souls who are drawn into his orbit. A trio of petty thieves sees an opportunity in his skills and tries to recruit him as an accomplice, pulling him deeper into a world where every door opened can lead to new risk or new kind of rescue.

Through it all, the film threads a quiet, human-centered realism with gentle humor and a profound sense of perseverance. It is a story about the power of storytelling to illuminate hardship, the stubborn love that keeps a parent fighting for a child, and the strange, intimate connections that form in the cramped, moving spaces of a night train.