The key term—la grazia—is defined as pardon. When the Pope tells De Santis that he possesses la grazia—pardon—the president answers with a simple, disarming question: “What is it?” The film’s answer is neither doctrinal nor procedural. Pardon becomes a late-life problem: not the cancellation of guilt, but the “beauty of doubt,” a state in which passion has been replaced by a fragile ethics of reconsideration. “Whose are our days? No one knows; we must discover,” De Santis reflects, only to arrive later at a paradox: they are ours, and yet a whole lifetime is insufficient to understand them. The film repeatedly returns to this sense of weight and lightness—the gravity of years, the possibility of “absence of gravity”—as if pardon were not a juridical act but a way of inhabiting time.