All language subtitles for El pequeno ruisenor.en

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The Little Nightingale

Amen.

Very good, son, very nice.

You see?

That's singing as it's
meant to be,

and not the other way...

that the sacristan teaches you.

But, Grandpa, the sacristan
doesn't teach me anything!

It just comes out.
-Even worse!

Listen.

Why don't you like it, Grandpa?

Because I don't like it at all.

Well, you listen now.

When the Moorish king lost you,

Granada, for you,

when the Moorish king lost you,

he wept tears of blood.

Why did I lose you,

You were my greatest treasure.

They say that's how my father sang,
It's where I get my ability.

He was great.
-A great rogue.

Why do you always speak
this way about him?

You're right.

Your father died,
God has forgiven him.

What about my mother?
You never speak to me about her..

Your mother is the Blessed Virgin,
you already know that.

Is that why we sing
to her every day?

Yes, that's why.

Jose!

Jose!

-Where are you going?
-To the choir, by the elevator.

From steep stairs deliver us, Lord.

What brings you here?

-The priest wants you.
-What for?

How should I know?

These pups leaving the seminar
don't consult experience.

So goes the congregation.
If you only knew...

I don't need to know.
I don't like gossip from down below.

Let's see what the world wants.

Blessed are we living in the tower,

away from the experience
of the higher clergy...

like you!

Are you in good form today?

For what you want, so so.

I heard you sing.
Top quality!

-I don't want to upset Grandpa.
-The christening awaits.

They expect us to attend.

I don't dare.
Grandpa doesn't want me to sing.

What does he mean by flamenco?
Some cheerful songs, for instance?

And isn't it an act of charity
and a cheer to others,

and on the way...
get fed as well?

That's true.

Imagine Joselito,

meringues, swiss roll,
and pies as big as a fist,

all in exchange for a few songs!!

-Will there be sugared almonds?
-Sure, sure...

and cupcakes like muffins!

But keep an eye open...
so that nobody finds out!

That's precisely the case,

my singing at christenings will cost
you and me our cassocks.

Bah, forget that!
Hurry, let's go.

Tell me, will there really be
sugared almonds?

Then comes... the big finale!

The big finale!
How do I look!

A wide brimmed hat... olé!

A bolero jacket with tassels.

How does that sound?

Tight pants...
like this!

And if you move...
they'll burst open!

-Great stuff, boy.
-And where is all that?

I keep it in the sacristy.
Come on, I'll dress you right away.

Let's go, although I'll get
it from Grandpa!

Truly I say unto you,
says the Lord.

There'll be more joy in heaven
over one repentant sinner,

than over 99 righteous persons
who need no repentance.

How satisfied, how peaceful
feels he who forgives.

How nice it is to forget the offenses and
open our arms to whom begs forgiveness!

Father...

I know where this is leading,
so don't waste your time..

Wait...

don't go, José,
listen to me.

Your daughter returns repentant.

She calls to her father's heart and you
have to forgive her as a good Christian.

Remember the parable of
the prodigal son.

I don't understand.

I had a daughter but now
she's dead to me, forever.

You're not saying what you feel.

You want to forgive her but
you're embarrassed to admit it.

Embarrassed of being yielding.
-Embarrassed? No, señor.

She took away her family's self-respect,

the day she ran off with that gypsy...

the day before marrying
a respectable man.

Well, when that "gypsy"
as you say, died,

he was already her husband.
-It doesn't matter.

She was already dead to me.

There's only a reminder of
that misfortune,

my grandson, who's already
giving me trouble.

He was born a gypsy,
like his father

Sorry to have to answer
this way, Don Jesús.

What did he say?

I'm sorry...

you must have patience
with your father.

-Maybe if the boy intercedes…
-Where is he now?

Oh, not a hope!

He's never at home.

From the bell towers to the mountains
the tune of the bells becomes a song,

And by way of its bells and joy,

with a few words it proclaims my love.

My love is a star,

and I can not reach her,

And I think about her all the time,

but she doesn't want to look at me.

I'm a poor altar boy who doesn't
have any more consolation,

than to dream of this radiance
that calls from heaven.

And to the compass rose,
I ask for a path,

to lead the altar boy
to meet the star in heaven.

Give me a biscuit,
they're my favourite.

You, start singing.
Sing!

To the four corners of my tower
with Spring arrived yesterday,

Four swallows and a muttering
that reminds me of stars and dawn.

Curse the light of the day that
steals the resplendence from me,

when the echo of your song
cheers up my agony.

I'm a poor altar boy who doesn't
have any more consolation,

than to dream of this radiance
that calls from heaven.

And to the compass rose,
I ask for a path,

to lead the altar boy
to meet the star in heaven.

How cute!

I'll hire you for the christening
of my grandson.

And I for my wedding,
next month.

Form a queue, ladies,
for christenings and weddings.

(Latin)
To the greater glory of God.

-Very well said.
-Very good!

Go on, sweeten your mouth.
Take what you want.

No! Only one, not more,
because you have to sing.

That's it, son, take two.

-Go on, slip in through there.
-Where are you going, scrounger?

Let the boy in, he'll dance.
And we're also going to dance.

-Joselito, start with some slow flamenco.
-Sing something lively!

He'll sing a flamenco tango dedicated
to the child we just christened,

to his parents and the whole crowd.

-And where are you going?
-I'm playing, the sacristan asked for me.

-The others outside.
-Let me in, man.

The tango is danced in Cadiz,
and that's the honest truth.

Just watching as the girls
pass by on the sidewalk,

as the girls pass by,
as the girls pass by,

like riverside reeds
that are full of playfulness.

Dolores, Dolores,

With what do you wash your face,
to make it smell so much of flowers?

With what do you wash your face,
to make it smell so much of flowers?

You're worth millions more,
you're worth millions more

than the little scarlet carnations
that overlook the balconies,

than the little scarlet carnations
that overlook the balconies,

If you ever go to Cádiz pass by
the neighborhood of Santa Maria,

there you'll see the Gypsies,
how they dance out of joy.

How I love you, how I love you,

with my heart and soul, more than
I love the mother who bore me.

With my heart and soul, more than
I love the mother who bore me.

Olé! What if they see me
arrive in my smart suit…!

That would indeed take
some explaining.

And stop playing with it,
it's not the squirrel from the tower.

Well, señor Martin, how much of the
money you collected is my concern?

Your concern... is to keep quiet.

Are you questioning your superiors?

Besides, haven't you heard,
ignorant altar boy,

that the monies of the sacristan
come and go away as fast as a song?

So, I get nothing more than this?

What more do you want, cute
one, than 2 kilos of sweets?

Hey, you're a brat,
no more than a brat!

Always asking the same thing,
"what's my share?".

Well come on,
that really is a...

Jesus! Don Jesús!

-Father!
-Damn, a pretty tight spot!

Quiet or I'll withdraw your right to
taste the communion wine. Grab that!

And don't get excited,

Joselito, you're making me nervous.
Come on, let's go.

-Can you see anything?
-No.

-Oh, the sugared almonds!
-Oh, no!

Let's go, let's go.

-Oh, that again!
-Pick it up, or there'll be trouble!

Come on, let's go.

Praise be to God, Father.

Thanks to God that you're here.

Where've you been?
They've come looking for you.

What did we get into?
Oh, my very dear Don Jesús!

Getting in isn't hard,
the hard thing is to get out.

-This one jumped...
-But I didn't...!

He jumed into the river.
Splash! It was awful.

I mean...
because I had to help him.

If you don't go fishing
you won't catch a fish.

Understand, Father?

I think so.

So that's it,
jumping into the River, eh?

Ignore him. I tell you I...

The time it's taken me to
find dry clothes!

You could have drowned!

Drowning my foot, Don Jesús!
Just because señor Martín...

Quiet, boy!

When a superior speaks
the altar boy says Amen.

Run along, go and play,
off you go!

Who, who's come looking for me?

Looking for you...?

Ah, yes, some parishioners
who were asking for a bird.

Are you now engaged in
breeding canaries?

Me?
No, what nonsense!

They asked if the canary, nightingale,
or goldfinch was free...

I don't remember what bird it was.
-Ah, yes!

Around here, Nightingale is what
they call the harmonium.

In the christenings and weddings.
These yokels!

I understand.

Be very careful now.
-Yes.

Fuensanta wants to see her son.

-She's been reconciled with her father?
-No, this is the first step.

Joselito, come.

Come on, son.

Come on!

Romualda?

Romualda! Where are you?

Hello.

Well, here he is.

This is the rascal.

Thank you, Father.

Thank you!

Who is this lady?

I don't know why,
but I like you kissing me.

What's wrong?

Are you mourning someone?
-No, no, son!

-Then, did somebody insult you?
-No.

That's not a thing to do
to such a lady,

who looks ike the Magdalena
of the sacristy.

I'll hit whoever it is!
Tell me who it was...!

Calm down, boy,
nobody insulted her.

Come inside.

I don't know how to thank you for
this charity which I don't deserve.

God has begun to help you
and will finish his work.

Romualda, prepare a room for Fuensanta.
She's going to be staying with us.

With us?
What do you mean, Don Jesús?

Yes, is there a problem?
Don't we have a spare room?

It's... not that there's no room, Father,
but people will gossip.

Martin's right.

One does't want to give reasons for...

I'll go, Don Jesús.
-I won't hear of it.

Since when is the rectory not
a refuge for those who suffer?

You'll live here until God touches
your father's heart. Come on.

Come.

Good, we got away with it!

Poor thing!

-Who is this woman, Martin?
-She's slightly mad.

She had a son, like you,
and he died.

Would you like to have
dinner with us?

Yes. Is she coming to dinner too?

-Sure.
-Then let's go.

Come on.

-What about the money we've earned?
-Why do you want it?

-To buy things for tonight.
-Quiet, quiet, Joselito!

This can be seen and not touched.
Here, here, go on.

I'll take care of buying something,
run along now!

You gotta see her, Grandpa.

She's beautiful!

She's staying with Don Jesús,
and he's invited me to dinner.

But it's not the dinner
that tempted me.

Even if they're eating,
rice pudding and spiced pork,

that I really like...

It's that she called me son,

and kissed me, crying, and...!

Wow, that's made me
both sad and happy!

Have you brought up the potatoes?

And I peeled them too.
Behind you there...

in the pan.

What bearing and what elegance!
There's no women around here like that!

And the paprika,
where have you put it?

Again? Can't you see it there?
It's on the chair!

I'd have gladly sung her
a song that says:

Don't cry with this sorrow.

Don't weep for me because you have,
the sweet face of a loving mother.

It's time for prayer, now.
Let's go.

Don't cry with this sorrow,
don't cry with this sorrow,

Don't cry with this sorrow,
don't cry with this sorrow,

Don't weep for me because you have,
the sweet face of a loving mother.

Don't weep for me because you have,
the sweet face of a loving mother.

Grandpa, you're making me deaf!

As usual the cat has been here.

I cooked such a tasty stew,
but it's reduced to a shadow of itself.

What about the meat?
What have you done with the meat?

Couldn't you have forgotten about
the poor since we have guests.

For one day...!

It's true, I didn't think about it.

"I didn't think about it..."!

-Shall we bring it to them now?
-Come on, let's go.

Poor Andrea, the widow, was sick
and needy. She came to see me and…

We'll be the sick and needy if you keep
taking the food from our mouths...

to give to those beggars
who are eating us alive.

Every day is the same.
Scroungers!

Don't talk like that, Romualda,
we must be charitable.

Charity?

Let them be
charitable to you first.

We heard you and were laughing,
because we with our small savings...

have bought a few little things
to celebrate the occasion.

Ham... see! Cheese...

-Look, we'll have a feast.
-Sausage...

Come on, cheer up!

And where did that come from?

Drop it now.
God, he who doesn't forget us.

Thank you.

Hey! Who could that be?
What timing!

Martin, see who it is.

It may be someone in need and there's
no better time than now to help him.

That's all we need,
with all this here!

Tell him to excuse us, by God!

-Calandria!
-The very same!

What do you want?

Aren't you happy with your share?

-It's not about that!
-Of course it's not about that!

Can I talk to you?
I've a business proposition.

-Is it by begging?
-Of making millions!

Did you see how successful the
boy was this afternoon?

The Salamanca Fair is approaching and
I'm hoarser than a constipated calf.

Lend me the Nightingale.

With his silver voice and my magic
fingers we'll make the fair ours.

I'll give you 50% of the gross earnings.

The gross one would be me
if I gave you the voice of an angel,

to take from place to place.

-Don't you take him to every christening?
-Yes, quiet!

-Get going, man! Go, go.
-Who is it, Martin?

A beggar!
A poor person, Father!

Don't worry, I've already helped him...
-Will you excuse me?

Get out of here, Calandria!

Don't get me in trouble. The boy's
voice is mine. I'm his manager.

No, don't go, come in.

Good evening, Father.

Come in. Share our dinner.

Thank you very much,
but I'm not alone.

No matter, bring them too.
There's enough for everyone.

God bless you, and may the Holy Virgin
reward you, for the sake of those in need!

But, Don Jesús, they're just freeloaders
who turn up at mealtimes!

-Come on, children!
-Lord have mercy, a swarm of locusts!

-One, two... more! Four!
-My Family.

Oh, my God!

My children and my wife.

But this is like the plague of Egypt!

Poor things! Don't you see how
they come? Barefoot!

It's up to you, if you want
to be a Sister of Charity.

We're used to eating
very little, Father.

Come in.
Thanks to God there's food.

Go ahead, come on,
in you come!

Hello.

If you squeal to the priest
I'll sing "De profundis" to you!

Don't worry, you and I will talk
about singing in due time.

Come over here.
everyone sit at the table.

Are you okay there, poppet?
That's it.

Sit yourself down.

Let's eat.

-Eat up, children.
-Here's cheese...

-Give me bread!
-Sausage...

-Good morning, Father.
-Hello.

-You're getting wet.
-Yes, this hose is a pain.

-Can I have a look?
-Sure.

-There.
-That was easy! Thank you.

I wanted to water the flowers,
and you see how I'm soaked.

What a shower!

But... what's this?
Stop it!

-Shut it off, father!
-But how?

I see now. Here it is.

Thank goodness!

There.

How cold!

You're a hero.

On the other hand,
you see me.

Stick to what you know best.

Your father is to blame, he was
in charge of watering all this.

But the poor man is in a mood!

I wanted to talk to you
about my father.

Have you seen him again?
-Yes.

I went this morning to
the tower after Mass.

-And what did he say?
-Nothing... for now.

But a father always forgives.
You'll see.

We'll end up convincing him
with God's help.

I'd like to face him and talk to him.

How much wrong I've caused him!

If you see this and are repentant, then
you've already started purifying yourself.

I've paid dearly for my mistake.
The loss of my son is my punishment.

-Don't talk like that.
-They snatched him from me at birth!

I want him back, so that
I can tell him I'm his mother!

I know you don't believe what
they say about me in the village.

I don't understand how
people are so mean,

and even my own father
treats me this way!

Hey, don't cry, or you're going
to affect me too!

Your father will forgive you,

because I can't believe his heart
is made of bronze, like his bells.

And people...
what do they matter?

Who is without sin?

You're a saint, and I don't deserve
that you even listen to me.

A saint?

Good God, if only I was!

I'm not used to such luxuries.

You mothers,
it's you that are saints!

Although sometimes life...
Blissful life!

In the end, your father will forgive.
About the boy, then...

I came prepared to take him,
and they won't take him from me,

even if all the powers on
earth join forces!

Are you going to snatch him from
his grandfather? It would kill him.

Or do you prefer the
judgment of Solomon?

I nearly forgot! Sorry,
I have to celebrate a wedding.

Pray to the Blessed Virgin. She'll listen
because she's a mother too.

Don Jesús, Don Jesús!

The people are waiting in the church!
-I know.

We have wedding today.
You can come too. Come on.

I forgot about the wedding.
They must be very impatient.

The impatient one was me,
who didn't know where you were.

Good morning, Don Jesús.
May I come in?

Hello, José. Come in.

I wanted to talk to the sacristan.

All right, go.
I'm ready.

I'm told that you have a boy
who sings at weddings.

Can we hire him?
-Quiet!

Yes sir, that's known as
a wedding with Nightingale.

With Nightingale!

With harmonium...
wedding march...

A special rate just for you.

Don't talk about rates, Martin,
even less in this case.

As for the "Nightingale" or harmonium,
it's included in the ceremony.

Don't promise that, Father.

If the nightingale isn't paid,
he won't sing.

I mean... not a tweet!

What's this about tweeting?

And what are these expressions
regarding objects of worship?

I mean...
he doesn't play the harmonium.

That's another matter.
But as for charges, nothing.

Just a good sized charitable
contribution,

which we need to help the poor.
-Yes, sir.

-Hey, this is my business! Don't worry.
-The Nightingale will be there, right?

There'll be nightingale,
harmonium and everything.

-Do you know where the dinning hall is?
-Of course I do!

-What's this?
-Well, goodbye.

Goodbye.

Martin.

Some gypsy who was here.

I'd like to know who the joker is,
who's messing in my closets!

This isn't right, Father,
It's not right.

You're too generous!
Too many people come in here.

This is a house for all...
but this is too much!

Who knows whose this has been!
Oh, how disgusting!

I played the lottery,

with the heart that I had.

I played the lottery,

and I won you,

which was what I wanted.

A heart with your beauty.

Who is this kid?
What a voice!

Don't you know?

He's the grandson of José,
the San Salvador bell ringer.

Don't you remember?
Fuensanta's son!

Address Fuensanta respectfully.

Yeah, sure, man,
Fuensanta.

He's still not over it

Then, what if he hears
"The Bell ringers daughter...!"

Does the kid know how to sing it?

-I don't think so.
-What does he know, the little angel?

Let's get to the singing,
to see if there's a cure for once!

In a flower garden,

I was walking,

I was walking,

I was walking,
and I saw a poppy,

I saw a poppy...

Pedro!

Here's Don Fernando!
-At last!

Good afternoon, Don Fernando.

Hello, my children.
I'm a bit late.

We thought you weren't coming, señor,
you've arrived at the end.

I had a meeting with his Grace and left
without even stopping for a bite to eat.

You must be starving Don Fernando!
Come over here.

We've saved you a chicken!

A morsel, nothing more, eh?

Good afternoon.

Well, I couldn't decline your
invitation so here I am.

What I regret is not being able
to attend the ceremony.

How's my nephew?

A holy inocent guy, señor.
The parishers walk all over him.

We need an experienced priest here
like you, able to use his fists and his...

Pedro!

It's okay,

forget it, Eclazia,

your father-in-law is an old Castilian
and likes to call a spade a spade.

You must forgive him.
I'll tell them to bring the food.

Just a morsel please,
with some potatoes.

...so to be the chosen one.

With such beautiful colours.

-How charming!
-Come here, Joselito.

Here, you've earned it.

Thank you,
a feather for the Nightingale,

to put towards his studies.
-Hey, Joselito.

-Where did you learn to sing like that?
-I was born singing.

No wonder they call you
the Nightingale!

And I hope the nightingales
will forgive me,

but my pupil is a better singer!

-Take heart, gentlemen, chip in, come on!
-How nice, that's great!

Chip in, gentlemen, chip in!

There's still much more...

he has a large repertoire of songs!

Chip in, chip in!

For "The Bell Ringer's Daughter".

He doesn't know it.

-Chip in, chip in!
-Make him sing it.

No.

Chip in, chip in!

-For "The Bell Ringer's Daughter".
-Didn't you hear?

He doesn't know it.

Think about it, it's a fifty.

He doesn't know it, I said.

- What do you say, Joselito, know it?
-Yes, I learnt it on the radio.

You see?

He wants to sing it.
-He's gone hoarse.

Me, hoarse?
I'm better than ever!

Play "The Bell Ringer's Daughter"
to please the audience.

-This isn't right!
-Living off a kid is worse.

I'm not hurting anyone,
you are.

Why have you made up your eyes?

The colour of the royal lily.

Why are you wearing silk.

Oh bell ringer's daughter!
Why is that?

Beware of all those who don't know,

what the key to the truth is,

They say that you're not good,

and they could compare you to the lily.

Tell her to stop that gossiping,

going around spreading
whatever she wants.

Because out of curiosity,

they're looking over your
past for hurtful things.

Oh, bell ringer's daughter!

Even though people don't think so,

You're the best of women
because God made you his herald.

-Nice voice.
-Yes, sir.

He's the altar boy from
San Salvador, a prodigy.

-What, from San Salvador?
-Yes.

He's included in the ceremony.

My nephew's organizing parties!

Why do people stop,

just on seeing her passing by?

Because she's the brave skylark,
that lifts it's head and begins to sing.

Are you the one who told
the boy to sing that?

-Yes, against my will.
-You're a swine .

Is it forbidden?
I like this song.

What's the problem?
-Swine!

Let go!

Let's go, Joselito.
This is getting ugly.

Let's run for it.
Oh, what a disaster!

What a catastrophe!

Come on!
Let's go.

Hey, man, get out of the way!

Very edifying!

A sacristan and altar boy involved in
flamenco and causing a brawl.

-Lord be with you, Archbishop!
-And also with you,

because you realy need him!

Follow me,
we'll settle this.

-Go to church I'll be right behind you.
-Yes, Archbishop. Whatever you say.

Oh, Archbishop,
my dear Don Jesús,

have mercy on me!

I haven't done more than to
bring a little joy to the faithful.

And promote folklore in the parish,

bringing the atmosphere of
partying and bars here.

You're the black sheep
our Lord speaks of.

You've scandalized this child.

Take that off.

And you deserve to be
thrown into the depths,

with a millstone around your neck!
-God help me!

But as we're benevolent and
there are no millstones here,

rather than throw you into the depths,
we'll simply throw you out of the sacristy.

Thirty years of lighting and
extinguishing candles,

then without further ado,
suddenly, poof!

Out on the street!

Stand up for me, Don Jesús,
you're so good!

Don't do this, Don Fernando!

Oh, Holy Mother of God,
what has the folklore brought us!

I assure you, dear Uncle Fernando,

that there was no sinful intention in
these indulgences of my subordinates.

The child, as you see,
poor thing, is an angel!

With a bolero jacket.
I've seen him.

As for Martin,
I can vouch for his innocence.

Believe me, uncle,
I know my sacristan.

And I know you.

I'll ask His Grace to send you
as chaplain to a convent.

You're unable to face facts and bring to
heel candle wax stealers like this one.

Candle wax stealer, me?

With permission of his lordship.

I don't have this defect,
like others of my profession.

No, señor Archbishop!

You have no right to
sing to me that song:

sacristan, you who sell wax
and you don't have bee hives,

you candle wax stealer,
you altar wax stealer.

No, never!

Are you going to sing
songs to me too?

I didn't know you had
so many abilities.

Go on, take the Nightingale,

and remove forever the
feathers of the crime. Go!

Listen to me, son,

the handling of souls requires
besides apostolic zeal,

a basic sense of reality.

-Good afternoon.
-Hello.

Hey? What's this?

Where's that woman come from?

-From her room. She lives with us.
-How long's she been here?

Since last night.

-Jesus!
-Yes.

I mean Jesus! Jesus,
and hundred times Jesus!

What kind of parish is this?

Devilish sacristans,
altar boys in bolero jackets,

women in the rectory...

If I didn't know you,
I'd be led to a hasty judgment.

But, why, uncle?

Of all the Saints!

The Flamenco thing is serious,
but this is worse.

It's not enough to be good,
you have to appear so as well.

who is that...
sorrowful woman?

She's the bell ringer's daughter.

Her?
She's Fuensanta!

God help me!

I know the story passed on in songs.

It seems that the former boyfriend...
But enough of that,

you still haven't told me what
she's doing in the rectory.

The rectory is the home
of all who suffer.

You taught me that, Uncle.

She has suffered a lot, that was
enough for me to receive her.

She's come to see her son and
to ask her father's forgiveness.

All right. It's a matter of conscience
that deserves study and charity,

especially charity.

But is she truly repentant?

-Like Mary Magdalene.
-What about the father?

He's suffered a lot, too.

Everyday problems and his idea
of honour, has blinded him, and...

There's no more daily concern
or honour for a christian,

than the forgiveness of sins and
the peace of a clear conscience.

I want to see the bell ringer.
-Here?

No, in the sacristy.

We'll stop by the church
to ask God to enlighten us.

So you won't be moved by reason,
petitions, doctrine of the holy fathers,

nor the example of our Lord himself,

who forgave the sinful woman
when others wanted to stone her.

You persist in the same atitude,

locked in your obstinacy,
hard as a rock,

and saying to yourself:
"Preach, preach."

"Anyway every word goes in
one ear and out the other."

-Yes, sir.
-Man, I like your frankness!

It's just that what my
daughter did to me,

and that poor boy...

has no name.

Do you pray the Lord's Prayer?

Yes, sir, every day.

And did you pay attention
to what you promise to God,

when you get to,
"forgive us our sins",

"as we forgive those
who sin against us"?

You didn't pay attention, right?

Because do one of two things:
either forgive,

or stop making promises to God
that you know you won't keep.

Look, man,

forgive your daughter...

or don't say the
Lord's Prayer any more.

Don't play with God.

Come in.

Go ahead.

Look at her, man,

She's your own flesh and blood.

Father...!

Daughter!

Here are the Nightingale's feathers.

Will his lordship tell me
what I should do with them.

Make them fly away to
where I can't see them.

They'll take flight, señor Archbishop.

And a server that's spent 30
years at the foot of the altar,

without more bad points
than these stiches,

that I got in the war,
that hurt me when it rains!

Is he forgiven too?

You're forgiven this time,

but if you return to your old tricks...
-No, no, no!

You won't even notice me
Yes, sir! Sleep easy!

But... the boy...

can he sing for me, softly?

Can he, Father?

The boy can sing as
much as he wants,

as long as nobody
profits from his voice.

Religious songs, folk songs that
won't offend anyone...

Yes, yes, sir, Certainly!

I saw you, it's burning me,

I'm looking for a fountain
to drink from.

Oh, from that water so clear,

that doesn't quench my thirst.

Oh, the light emanating from your face,

it was fire, and I burned!

It goes, bam-balabam,
it goes, bam-balabam,

the moon and the rose!

It goes, bam-balabam,
the ringing, already veiled

by the mountain and
the sound of the stream.

But the water that already passed by,

to the spring, it did not return.

It goes, bam-balabam,
until the bam-balabam.

it even took away
the sound of the stream.

Hey there!
How nice to see you.

Good day. It wouldn't feel right to
pass by town without saying hello,

so I said, Let's have a
cigarette with señor José.

Thanks...

but you know I don't smoke.

That's right.
Are you moving?

Yes, we're leaving the tower.

A lot of things have changed...

and people.

Maybe it's for the best,
Can I give you a hand…

Of course, at my age...!
Not a hand,

I'd say you could lift
all this with just a finger.

Go on, son, go,
bring something down.

But the water that already passed by,

to the spring, it did not return.

It goes, bam-balabam,
It goes, bam-balabam,

it even took away the sound
of the stream. Pom pom!

-How well you sing, son!
-It's because I'm so happy, mother!

There's still a few things out there.
Bring them, son.

Oh, how dirty it is, father!

Imagine... seven years
without coming over here!

Gonzalo's here.

He came to offer me a cigarette,

I don't smoke, and he knows it.

It's up to you.

Where there were embers,
the fire can be rekindled...

You know what he did at
the wedding for you.

What you suggest is impossible father.

He... with how proud he is...!

Then it's up to you,
despite his pride,

you have him up there,
in the tower.

He can't wait to meet you.

Why did we move, Grandpa?

I preferred the belfry,
it was a bit like a dovecote.

Too many stairs, son.
Too many stairs!

And it's time to cut down on
the flying and rest a little.

Bah, he's getting old!

You'd have liked living there too.

Even the walls shake
when the bells ring.

I'll settle for seeing
them from here.

Look at my small bells.

The large bells aren't visable.

We call the big bell Guadalupe.

Do you know what she says,

when she chimes, "ding dong",
which is even heard in Plasencia?

"My name is Guadalupe.
I weigh 100 hundredweight."

"Anyone who doesn't believe it,
let him carry me."

"Take me for a walk around the square,
and take me home."

-What are you thinking about?
-Nothing.

Are you going to be sad like Grandpa?

Bah, older people don't
know how to live!

You have to be happy,

And for that there's nothing
like a few of my songs.

Yeah, the sailing boat,

that's sailing towards us,

-Yeah, the sailing boat,
-Go on, take that. You've heard?

on its way to the island...

-Is Fuensanta there?
-I think so.

Go on, man,
she won't eat you!

Just as the boat,
oh, mother of mine!

I approach you singing for joy,

Out of joy, mother, for joy,

because by your side the night,

seems like day.

Bravo, my child!

Good afternoon, Fuensanta.

Hello, Gonzalo.

I didn't know you were in town.

I came to see your father,
and he asked me to help.

Thank you very much.

I'm going to stay here,
to live with him.

How did you do, out there?

Badly, like I deserved.

Come on, son,
go and help Grandpa.

Gonzalo, time has passed and we
shouldn't talk about that anymore,

but I've never forgotten
how badly I treated you.

And what shames me, is that
you still look me in the face,

and defend me from people
like you did at the wedding.

If you knew how much I've suffered,
you'd understand...!

Understanding isn't difficult.

The difficult thing is to forget,
even if one wants to,

even if one is determined
to kill the memories.

José! Is Fuensanta there?

Yes. What do you want?

Tell her to come down,
the priest is waiting for her.

Go on Joselito, tell your mother.

I received this letter from my uncle.

There's a paragraph that
talks about you.

Look, it says:
"And if the mother wants,

the boy can be admitted to the choir
school of the Guadalupe Monastery.

to be part of the choir
of this holy cathedral."

"He'll learn music, and with
his voice, who knows?"

"If he has a vocation and
some impediments fade away,

the boy may some day become
choir conductor priest."

To separate me again from my son?

It seems that the circumstances
make it advisable.

There's another paragraph of the letter…

here,

which says:

"Furthermore, the absence of
the boy would surely help...

to reconcile the mother with…"

Go on.

"I know that in this environment,
churlish and full of mundane worries,

it's very difficult,

I'd almost say heroic,
to forget and forgive."

"But he still loves her, demonstrated
by his violent and gallant behaviour,

that we all witnessed,
at the wedding party."

"How beautiful it would be if these
two souls who are suffering",

"were joined in holy mariage."

"I spoke to Gonzalo before I left,

and I made him understand
these sublime words of Christ:"

"If you look at what you are inside,

you won't care what other
men say about you."

I believe that Gonzalo, who's dignified,
will be going to see Fuensanta and…

Has he come to see you?

Yes, he's upstairs, now.

I don't know...

I'll do whatever you want, I...

what am I going to say, if I…?

Thank you anyway, Don Jesús.

Go with God, and think,
do your own thinking, too.

What did the priest say?

But...does it mean
they'll take the boy away?

I don't know.

Listen, Martin, if my son wanted...
let's say...

to be be a cathedral priest singer...
-Hey...!

Hold your horses!

He'd have to start by
entering a seminary.

The Church keeps a tight rein, my girl,

when it comes to choosing
ministers of the altar.

Look at me,

I haven't become a bishop because
I coudn't wear a mitre with these ears,

and I had to forget it.

Besides the physical defects...

are the morals...

and ones of birth.
Do you understand?

Yes, I understand that best:

My situation may harm my son.

Don't worry, child.

Here you'll have more
friends than at home.

Do you see what fun
they're having?

They all sing like you.

-Do you like football?
-Yes, Father.

-Can you play?
-A little.

Well...

maybe we're standing
before a great player!

Go on!

Join them and start kicking.

Go on, off you go!

Goodbye, Joselito!

Go on, son!

In his letter, the Archbishop tells me
that the child sings very well.

Yes, señor.

These separations are always painful.

When I joined as a novice...
and that was some time ago...

my mother, the poor thing,
there was no consoling her.

The boy's never been apart from me.

We've always been so close!

Calm down, man, relax.

Pass it here!

Go on then.

Give it a good kick.

Thanks!

Do you see how he's begining
to cheer up all by himself?

Yes, señor.

Father Anselmo...

come here.

You'll see, he's a very nice priest,
he runs the choir.

-Yes, Father.
-You have to sign a new champion.

Man, that'll come in handy!

Just what we needed,
a center-forward.

Come on, come with us.

Do you see?

Childhood and sadness
are incompatible.

Okay...

come closer.

And now,

let's see what your voice is like.

Do you know the scale?

Is that the "do re mi" thing?

Quiet please.

You laugh a lot, but you sing
like a cat's chorus.

Eh? What do you know?

I heard you singing
"Hail Mary" last night.

But she's a saint and can bear it...!

Well, we have a critic
now in the choir!

We'll try to make amends, señor critic.

Now do the scale.

Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do.

Now down?

Yes, señor!

-Hey!
-Do Si La So Fa Mi Re Do.

Perfect, we climbed up and
down the scale like an acrobat.

And how about tessitura?

-Tesi... what?
-Sorry, son.

I mean, how high can you go.

Ha, as far as you want, I grew up, going
up and down the stairs in the belfry!

Hey, are you going to laugh
at my towns bell tower now!

Order...

order or you'll go without your tea!

And you learn to curb your temper.

Do you remember,
since you were an altar boy...

any religious song?
-Yes, señor.

"Yes, father."

Okay, whatever you want.

Not what I want,
but what must be.

Let's hear that religious song.

Forgive...
Well, religious, but one of mine.

Holy Christ of the Expiration!

Holy Week in my Sevilla!

Go on, son, continue.

Oh, forgive me my sins,
for the sake of Virgin Macarena,

who walks by your side
crying and dying of pain,

who walks by your side
crying and dying of pain,

That isn't religious but has a soul.

Rightly called a sacred song!
It pierces...

boy, does it pierce!

That procession of the
Holy Christ of the Expiration...

when even the gypsies...!

Well, let's leave that.

Look, son,

the music of Victoria, Palestrina
and Perosi, is more beautiful,

not to mention pure Gregorian chant,
all about dedication and serenity.

Well, I'll tell you for your satisfaction,

that some say that flamenco
comes from the Gregorian.

Let's sing the Ubi Caritas so
this new student can hear it.

Where charity and love are...

I can sing that too.
I learnt in church back home.

Do you know all of it?
Let's see.

Where charity and love are,
there God is.

Where charity and love are,
there God is.

The love of Christ has
gathered us into one flock.

Let us exult,
and in Him be joyful.

Let us fear and let us
love the living God.

And from a sincere heart
let us love each other.

Where charity and love are,
there God is.

Therefore, whensoever
we are gathered as one:

Lest we in mind be divided,
let us beware.

Let cease malicious quarrels,
let strife give way.

And in the midst of us
be Christ our God.

Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee;

Blessed art thou among women, and
blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

Glory be to the Father,
and to the Son,

and to the Holy Spirit:

as it was in the beginning,
is now and ever shall be,

forever and ever.
Amen.

And my mother, why hasn't
she come to see me?

Is it because they don't let her?

You always have your child
in your arms, and he's so happy.

I don't ask that mine holds me like that,
because I'm already almost a man,

but this... not a single
visit in three weeks...

I want to go and see her,
but they won't let me.

But you're in charge here
more than anyone,

and if you give me permission...

Can I have it?

Go on,
give it to me!

Yes?

Thank you, Señora, thank you!

I'll be back soon to sing
whatever you want!

Were you here?

We've been looking all over
the monastery for you.

Come on, you have a visitor!

Has my mother come?

What a healthy bird, eh?
It was Romualda's idea.

Romualda's my wife,
who said to me:

"Come on, Martin, since the others..."
The others are the boy's mother,

and her boyfriend,
who isn't his father.

"Since the others are
getting married..."

Because they got married
as God intended. You know?

No, I didn't know,
but go ahead.

Well, as I was saying, she said:

"Take those chickens to the Nightingale,

so that he also enjoys
something of the wedding."

And although I shouldn't say it,
as I'm not his father,

I love the Nightingale,
like he was my own son.

I grabbed the chickens and
these almonds, and here I am,

with the goods and I can't
wait to see the boy.

So tell me,
what do I do with this.

Follow me.
First you'll see the boy.

Hear, hear.
The boy is all I can think about.

Because the child...

well, as you know,
the boy is the boy.

Because... I don't do
flamenco singing at all.

The Lord well knows.

A few pesetas, a few coins, and to
bring a little joy to the parishioners.

-Sure, sure.
-There he is!

Joselito, don't fall, son,
take care.

Here, please.

Hooray my boy!

Let's see, oh, flamenco!

Give me a hug, Nightingale!

I say...

and with a purple cassock,
like a cardinal!

Where's my mother?

You see... your mother
wasn't able to come.

She sent me! She sends her love
and these presents, for you!

The only present I want is her.
Why hasn't she come?

I already told you she wasn't able to.

Go out, go out for a moment
and talk calmly.

Thank you, Father.
Thank you. Come on, Joselito.

Goodbye, Father, goodbye.

The boy will be right back.

Take this, Father:

rice and dead rooster.
-Okay, Father.

Hey it's getting away!

I know what's wrong:
you miss our fun, right?

What a lot of parties and tips!

And all those cakes
you got to eat! Eh?

If one wasn't so honest...!

Don't worry. If my mother
doesn't come to see me…

well, I already know
what I have to do.

What will you do?
It's nothing crazy?

You stay put.

Crazy, when the Virgin Mary herself gave
me permission? That's my business.

You tell my mother not to worry,
we'll see each other again.

I don't know if I can tell her.
Your mother has moved house.

She now lives in the
Greenhorns estate.

Where there are many wild horses
and mares that run like the wind?

Yes, that's the place.

I'm glad, she's closer now.
Maybe that's why she moved.

Of course, for sure!

Well, you stay with these almonds.
They're candied, eh?

The visit is over.

They're calling us to the refectory.
-Another hug, nightingale!

And behave yourself, son!

If you work hard,

some day you'll become
a sacristan, like me.

Don't laugh,
that's no small feat.

How hard it is for me to leave you!

Kiss.

To think of what a high life
we used to lead!

Oh, what a damn shame.

Like a love song
crossing the skies,

goes my song among
the singing bells.

I'd like to be the bell-ringer
of the Sevillian towers,

I'd like to be a bell-ringer,
to say with my bells:

Now I have a mother's warmth,
I no longer have to cry,

because the echo of my sorrows
cheers up with a song

Like a love song
crossing the skies,

goes my song among
the singing bells.

Now I have a mother's warmth,
I no longer have to cry,

because the echo of my sorrows
cheers up with a song

Like a love song
crossing the skies,

Well done, boy.

Does it seem nice to you,

to sing this way as if you
were on the street?

They surely heard it
all over town!

What will they think of us?

Hail Mary Immaculate!

It's twelve o'clock and all's well!

Mother.

Son, son!

The poor child has come to see me.

They told him where we lived, and...

I didn't expect him, you know.

You must have walked a long way.

You're tired and you
should get some sleep.

Go and lie down.

I'll bring you a glass of milk.

Who is that?
He didn't look at me nicely.

Don't worry, son,
it's just that he's angry.

I'm sorry, Gonzalo. I know
you're upset by his presence.

He's left the monastery?

I don't think so.

They surely gave him
permission to come to see me.

He came on foot from Guadeloupe.

Wandering around all night long.
He's a scoundrel like his father!

-Gonzalo!
-What?

Does it still hurt when
I mention the other guy?

It hurts me that you offend
someone who cannot defend himself,

and it hurts me to see you
suffer for what can't be helped,

and relentlessly touching
a wound that's festering,

and making yourself worse
than you really are.

Damned jealousy!

That's why you remind me,
with the presence of your son.

Yes, my son, that I've got
back after so much suffering!

if he's a nuisance here,
so am I.

What are you saying?

Do I have to kill you to get
a little peace of mind at last.

You said: "he's going to Guadalupe
monastery, perhaps for life."

And scarcely are we married...

and already you have him here!
-Don't yell, it's not the child's fault!

Shut up, shut up,
you've all deceived me!

You, your father, you've all
conspired to make me suffer!

And I won't tolerate it, you hear?
I won't tolerate it!

I sacrificed everything for you:
my pride, and my shame also,

and you've returned to deceive me.

Why did I marry you?

Hey Juan, we've run over a boy!

The bulls have trampled him.

-He's still alive. What do we do?
-Let's take him to the farmhouse.

Leave the dressing.
Transfusion. Take blood.

His pulse is very weak because
he's lost a lot of blood.

I'll try a transfusion,
I don't know if it'll work.

-Whatever it is, quickly, doctor.
-A donor.

My arm.

-Would my blood do?
-I hope so.

Prepare everything.

Your blood's okay.

Come here.

Lie down next to the child.

-How much?
-300 ml, for now.

That's enough.

-We just have to wait.
-Will he make it?

His pulse is a bit stronger.
Now he has to respond.

It's a pity you didn't call me sooner.

it's just that...

The wounds although serious,
aren't fatal,

But the loss of blood
has been great.

Doctor, come here, please.

He'll be all right.

Thank you!

We now have a Nightingale
for weddings and christenings!

Whether or not it's you, Don Jesús,
or your uncle the Archbishop, or whoever!

My God, Martín, what joy!

Thank you.

Let's see who arrives first
to the christening, Joselito.

Yeah, come on!
I'll get there first!

Come on, horsie,
or else we'll be last!

Joselito!

Come on now,
get in there, go on!

Joselito... Joselito!

Joselito...

Hey, Joselito,
we have a christening!

Wait... wait...
we have a christening!

Subtitles by
Oliver Sanderson

http://tinyurl.com/cco7yhx