All language subtitles for Papa Hemingway In Cuba.eng

MAN :
In the way of things,

fathers are,
by tradition and compassion,

supposed to
leave their sons at least
a little legacy of wisdom

to help them
get through life.

But I don't remember
my father ever saying
anything memorable

except those seven words
he said that Christmas season
when I was four years old--

Wait here, son.

I'll be right back.

I grew up an orphan,
like many other children
abandoned during the Depression.

And as a young boy,

I ran off to pursue my dream
of becoming a writer.

It was that dream
that gave me hope
during those dark years.

That and a bigger-than-life
writer and adventurer

by the name of Ernest Hemingway.

Many years later,
I was working as a reporter
at The Miami Globe.

I had written Hemingway
a letter,

but I couldn't get it right.

It had to be perfect--

heartfelt and genuine.

What do you say to the man
that changed your life

and never even knew you?

I needed to tell him
how much he had meant to me.

Copy!

Scotch, rocks.

How's it goin', Jimmy?

Don't ever get married, Eddie.

Did you get into
another fight with Maxine?
Yep.

She was so pissed off,
she ripped the wires out from
under the dash of my new Chevy.

Wow.

The things we put up with

just for that
microsecond of ecstasy.

A man should never marry.

Don't worry.
It's my goal in life not to.

I gotta go, Eddie.
All right.

-I was due home hours ago.
-Adios.

Deb, what are y--
what are you doing?

This is
a beautiful letter.

Look at you, the nosy Nancy.
Do you always read
other people's mail?

No. I saw the address
on the envelope--

Ernest M. Hemingway,
Finca Vigia,
San Francisco de Paula, Cuba.

Okay, I know what it says.

"You gave me hope
when I thought
there was none left.

In my darkest moments,
you were my friend."

Deb, that's
a personal letter.

If I got this letter,
I'd fall in love with you
instantly.

Well, it wasn't
addressed to you.

You're just afraid to send it,
aren't you?

Okay, I-- I'm not afraid
to send the letter.

That's too bad.

It's none of your business.
It's a personal letter.

-You're a nosy Nancy too.

**

City desk. Myers.

This is
Ernest Hemingway.

Oh, really?
This is Ernest Hemingway?

I got your letter.

HEMINGWAY: H

Hello?

Uh, uh, yes, sir.

It's a good letter.

Well-- Well, thank you.

I read it
about 10 times.

Mr. Hemingway,
y-your work has meant
so much to me.

I, uh--
M-M-My whole career is--

I don't think
you're old enough to have
a whole career yet, kid.

I've been reading your stuff
in the Globe.

You have a tendency
to underwrite,
which is good.

Well, thank you.

You covered
the Korean War?

Uh--
Are you really talking
to Ernest Hemingway?

I, uh-- Yeah, from--
from 1951 to '52, yeah.

Well,
that's what I did,

and you know,
an honorable profession
if you do it right.

Yes, sir.
Yes, sir.

Uh, that "sir,"
not necessary.

You can call me Papa.
Everybody does.
Okay.

Like you said
in the letter,
I'm your friend.

It's a good letter,
kid.

You like to fish?

EDDIE: I don't know
the first thing about fishing.
I've never been fishing.

I don't even know
what to wear or--
What do you wear on a boat?

A hat.

Okay, I don't want
to wear the hat.
Why? It's a great hat.

It is a great hat.
Did you get this hat for me?
Yes. It's gonna block the sun.

Thank you
for sending the letter.

You're welcome.

**

**

**

¡Oye! ¡Venga! ¡Venga!

Hola.

Good morning.

-Whoo!

Ed Myers.
Gregorio.

Mucho gusto.

Permiso. Permiso.

Okay.

**

**

Flight okay?

They fed me rum daiquiris
on the plane.

I'm-- I'm half-bombed.

Not a bad way
to start the day, huh?

Come on.
Let's go find you a fish.

Now watch the tip
of your rod.

When it goes up,
then you can
get some line back.

Easy.

That's it!

It feels like a fucking whale.

Nah, that's a tuna.
Little one.

Oh! Ah! Now!

He's turned around.
Now you can get some line back.

Ow!

You've got to
ease the rod back.

When you jerk the rod like that,
something's gotta give.

Usually it's his face.

Ah, cheer up, kid.

No virgin does it right
the first time.

It's a good day.
You'll get another chance.

And up! There we go!
Keep reeling.

Let her go. Easy.

And up. Reel!

Oh, she's a beauty!
Look at her!

Beautiful!

Keep working.
There you go.

There.
Now you're fishing, kid.

Now you're fishing.

Okay, okay,
reverse the engine.

Turn the wheel a little.
You know, I think
you'd better do this.

Look, kid, the only value
we have as human beings

are the risks
we're willing to take.

Now, fuck it. Dock her.

That's it, now, easy.
Let her ease in.

All right,
now put her in reverse.

That's it.

Nice job.
Thank you.

You could turn off
the engine anytime.

Oh, right.

**

**

Ah, what the hell, kid.
You know all this.

I talk too much.
Boring.

I wouldn't say you're boring.

I'm just...

so fuckin' shy.

Well, you're
among friends here.

It's the power of less.

Pick a number...

between one and... ten.

Six.

Complete short story,
six words.

"For sale, baby shoes.
Never worn."

Señor Hemingway.
Please?
Ah.

You're quite
a pretty young lady.

Thank you.

Permiso.
Excuse me.
Okay.

Yes.

-(chattering in Spanish
continues)

DEBBIE:
Couldn't find your sugar.

I read an AP article
that said he's the biggest
tourist attraction in Cuba.

Said thousands of tourists
come from all over the world
just to get a glimpse of him.

I've never seen
anything like it.

He draws a crowd
wherever he goes.
Thank you.

The only place
he gets any real privacy
is at sea.

Must be awful
to be that famous.

-I haven't met her yet.
I'm supposed to this weekend.

Oh, this weekend.
I got the weekend off.

I was hoping maybe
we could go to the Keys.

Well, they--
they've invited me
to the finca.

I'm gonna go to their house.

Oh, wow, that's great.

-Yeah.
-We'll go another time.

**

** (singing in Spanish
continues)

Oh, my God.

Gracias.

Shh.

Papa working.

Miss Mary swim.

Oh, my...

Oh. Hello.

You must be the kid.

Uh, yeah.
I g-- I guess I am.

Edmund, isn't it?

Eddie.

Hello.
I'm Mary Hemingway.

Yeah, I know.

Hi.

Papa showed me
your stories.
You write very well.

We're both impressed.
Thank you.

I didn't embarrass you,
did I?

No, no, no. No, no.

How God made me.

My perfect
pocket Rubens.

Why, thank you,
kind sir.

We do have a generally
good alliance, don't we?

Based upon your great beauty
and the wondrous blondness
of your hair.

MARY :
Deeply rooted
in his system of values,

Papa has a secret mysticism
about blonde hair.

You'd be ecstatic
in a world of female dandelions,
wouldn't you, love?

Sure.

Come and have a drink.

I confess,
it is artificial.

It used to be a color people
called titian, but I like to
call it a nice peanut brown.

Oh, Papa, I do believe
we've embarrassed the kid.

He'll get used to it.

EDDIE: No, I was
just an ignorant bum

who read a lot in libraries
to stay out of the rain.

You know, mostly day labor jobs
and flophouses,

and then
after years of hustling,

I finally managed
to weasel my way into a job

on the sports desk
of a local paper
in Northern California,

which was a dream.

The only problem was,
I didn't know how to write.

I mean, I could read okay.

But to actually
type out sentences,
and spelling and punctuation...

I didn't know anything.

In the newspaper business,
this could be a problem.

Yeah, the city editor
found it particularly amusing

when I spelled
the word "maybe" M-A-B-E.

Ooh.

He called me a liar
and then he fired me.

So what did you do?

Well, I knew that
I wanted to be a writer,

and the only thing I could do
was go and beg for my job back.

So after about three days
of begging he finally said,

"Okay, fine,
you have two weeks, no pay.

Maybe you can learn
to be a writer."

So I worked at the paper
during the day

and then at night I stayed,
typing over your short stories.

I copied them word for word.

It taught me how to type,

it taught me
the English language,

it taught me spelling, grammar
and how to write dialogue.

It taught me how to see.

Smart.

Changed my life.

And did you
get your job back?

Yeah. A year later,
I was on my way to Korea
as a war correspondent.

Didn't I tell you
what kind of kid he'd be?

Did you ever
find your parents?

Yeah-- Yeah,
I met my mother for about--

f-for about 10 minutes
once, yeah.

No good, huh?

Yeah, she just
had other agendas.

Yeah.

I had a mother like that
myself.

You know,
my father killed himself.

Couldn't take it anymore.

We'll be your family.
Huh, kid?

I'm not sure
if the kid knows what
he's getting himself into.

DEBBIE: Hemingway
really said that to you?

Isn't that what
you've always wanted?
To be part of a family?

Yeah, I guess so.

You ever think
about having a family
of your own one day?

Come on.
Let's go swimming.

I didn't--
I didn't bring a swimsuit.

It's how God made me.

Copy.

MARY: Such great news!

I'm so happy
for you both!
MAN: Thank you.

Eddie, what happened
to that story, you know, about
the kid hobo riding the rails?

Oh, yeah, I, uh--
Well, I sold it, actually. Yeah.

-Yeah.

Well! Who to?

It wasn't exactly
The New Yorker, you know.

I'm embarrassed to say.
I don't want to say.
Oh, come on, kid!

You're among friends
here.
No, that's exactly--

That's why I don't
want to say anything.

Uh, Mike Shayne
Mystery Magazine.

Oh! Well, congratulations.
How much did they pay?

Uh, it wasn't that much.
How much was it?

Come on! How much
wasn't that much?

Uh... $42.

-Uh, it was $42.

How much do you get
for a short story now, Papa?
$100 a word?

Forty-two bucks.
That's-- That's swell, kid.

Christ, I sold
Big Two-Hearted River
for 15.

Ernie, that's
an American classic.

Jesus Christ,
you sold it for 15 bucks?

At the time, it was
all the money there was.

Makes you 27 bucks
better than me.

Hey, kid.

Congratulations.
Oh, thank you, Evan.

-Cheers!

Mike Shayne.
Cheers to Mike Shayne.

Yeah!

**

Hey, a friend just called.
You want a good story?

-Yeah.
-Juan's bringing the car.

Come on.

Wh

MAN:
Just keep running!

I think they got inside!

Think
they got Batista?
I don't think so.

Let's get closer.

Go to the truck!
We'll make it!

You all right, kid?

(shouting in Spanish
continues)

Let's go.
No, no! wait!

Come on! Let's go!

Get down!

Goddamn war.

I hate it.

Fucking lousy way
to settle politics.

The faces of the dead
are always the same.

Just fucking kids.

No hay remedio.

No remedy.

Toughest phrase I know
in Spanish.

No hay remedio.

EDDIE :
My entire life,
I had idolized a legend,

an intangible hero.

And now he had
become my mentor,

the father I never had.

And he had shown me Cuba
was gonna be the next big story.

Mmm. Yeah, I was there.

Hey, get me some background
on this Castro fellow.

All right, all right.
Bye.

How you doin'?

MAN: This is really important
to Mr. Hoover, Eddie.
Hi.

We know you took
the next three days off.

We know Hemingway's
invited you to go fishing
down in Havana.

We want to know
what he thinks about
Castro and Batista.

Look, all we ask is you
find out where he stands.
Is he a rebel sympathizer?

How does he feel
about the Bureau?
What's he say about Mr. Hoover?

John, if I didn't know you
for so long, I'd tell you
to go fuck yourself.

Not a good idea.

Nice work.

Debra Hunt,
this is John Fletcher.

He's with the FBI.
Ah.

Hello.

See you, pal.

Nice to meet you too.

FBI jerk.

He here on business
or social?

He's recruiting me
because of my big muscles.
You have big muscles, huh?

I guess the FBI's
bird-dogging Hemingway.

Why?
I don't know. I told him
to go fuck himself.

Good job.

Were you just about
to kiss me just then?
Mm-mmm.

You make me blush.

Is your place
as hot as mine is?

**
* Hey *

DEBBIE: No, no.
No, no, don't--

Sorry.

Are you kidding me?

MARY: Eddie. Hey, love, sorry.
Did I wake you?

No, uh, no. Mary.

No. Uh, no, you d--
you didn't wake me.

MARY: Papa's worried
you're not gonna make it.

But you are, lamb,
aren't you?

Uh, yeah.
Is everything okay?

Evan's here.
You remember Evan Shipman,
the poet?

-Yeah, yeah, yeah.
-It's just the two of us here.

We went dancing
with Mr. Black Ass.

I'm afraid
he's very depressed, Eddie.

I don't mean to burden you
with our personal problems,
but, well,

you really seem
to lift his spirits.

We're going fishing.
You're gonna come fishing
with us, yeah?

HEMINGWAY:
Goddamn it!
Oh.

Um, I have to go.
Don't mention this call
to Papa, all right?

** (woman singing
"Non, Je Ne regrette Rien"
in French)

** (singing in French
continues)

**

**

**

**

**

Juan, I'm staying
at the Ambos Mundos.

You just missed
the turnoff.

Miss Mary wants you
to come to the house.

Is everything okay?

No puedo.

All right.

All fucked up!
I need you!

Why did you have to die,
goddamn it?

I need you!

Son of a bitch!
Why did you leave me?

Hi, Evan.

Hello, kid.

Uh...

I look that bad, huh?

Uh, do you-- do you
need help with that?

It's not an easy task.

No, no, no, no.
That's okay.

Are you sure?
Yeah, yeah.

Sit down.
It stinks.
It smells.

It doesn't bother me.
Sit down.

That's very kind
of you, kid.

I've been using penicillin
powder for the infection,
but I want to try the iodine.

It's gonna sting.

It's only pain.

-Old war wounds.

You shoot at people,
they tend to shoot back.

Damn things heal,

then break open again
every once in a while.

It's an awful nuisance.

-Nothing very amusing,
I'm afraid.

So what do I do now?

Bandages, please.

Okay.

Here.
All right.

All right, all right.

Thank you.

Okay.

Need a clean shirt.
Okay.

Yeah, uh, you want a beer?

Yes, please.

You know, I, uh--
I came in

and I overheard Ernest
talking to himself.

It's been going on
for weeks.

Listen, kid.

I may be crazy, but no way
do we want him cured.

He's a great writer.
True genius.

That's rare
in this world, huh?

Maybe all our geniuses
are crazy.

Maybe it comes
with the territory.

I've known Hem
for over 30 years.

Since we were kids in Paris
back in the '20s.

Hem can be
the meanest son of a bitch
you've ever seen.

I've seen him at his best
and his worst,

but he's the only true friend
I've ever had.

Kind, loyal, gentle.

You can't judge him

like an ordinary man

because he's not ordinary
in any sense of the word.

A hundred years from now,

people will read his work

and know his name.

Kid.

You should know
what's going on around here.

This, uh, character--

he a good guy?

Yeah. He's
a political reporter.

Pulitzer winner.

Pulitzer doesn't make you
a good character.

I'm living proof of that.

So she left him
to be with you, huh?
Yeah.

Do you love her?

Yeah.

What do you want?

I don't know.

I'm trying
to write about Hadley,

my first wife.

The only true love
I ever felt was from her.

I'm trying to...

to get one true sentence

to start it, you know?

The fun we had,

loving each other in a warm bed
in Austria that winter.

And then I had to
go back to New York

to deal with publishers.

And when I came back
the next spring,

I stopped off in Paris

to fuck the woman
that would later
be my second wife--

my rich wife.

And then on to Austria,

seeing Hadley
at the station

with our son.

How beautiful
she looked.

Unforgivable.

You make a decision, kid,

make it carefully.

Know what you truly want.

Consider...

every possible consequence,

or you'll wind up at 59...

wondering
what the hell happened.

Did the cab come?

Not yet.

What are you reading?

Reading about
your new friend Hemingway.

I can see that.

Eddie,
what's California like?

California?
You know, it's like here,
but without the humidity.

I want you to run away
to California with me.

Don't go to Havana, Eddie.

Deb, I got--
They're waiting for me.
It's his birthday.

The flight's about to leave.

I'm late.

What are you afraid of?

Will you listen
to something?

It's Hemingway.

"The celebrated develop
a technique to deal with
the persons they come across.

They show the world
a mask,

but take care to conceal
their real selves.

They play the part
that is expected from them,
I gotta go.

but with practice
play it very well.

Let's talk about it.
But you are stupid
if you think

this public
performance of theirs

corresponds
with the man within."

I'll be back Tuesday.

EDDIE :
Deb certainly deserved someone
who could commit to her.

Even though I loved her,
how could I give her something
I had never known?

MARY: I guess it started
about a month ago.

Papa started to complain
that he's living with his
"deads," as he calls them.

Every morning
he'd go to work
and there they are,

all his dear,
old dead friends,

talking to him
as if they were alive.

I guess
they're real enough
in his mind, but...

it's bloody close
to madness.

MARY: Oh!

This water's glorious.

Oh, I'm so glad
you're here, lamb.

Oh, yes, yes, yes.
That helps.

Every day, he's just
become more depressed.

You know?
More moody.

When I saw him
at his desk this morning

with that pistol...

I've never been
that terrified in my life.

I didn't know
what to do.

He just sat there,
staring at the gun.

So I got angry

and I said...

that if he was gonna do such
a stupid, idiotic thing,

to at least go outside
where I wouldn't have to
clean up the mess.

I've been
waiting all morning
to hear a shot.

Evan said that-- that he's
threatened suicide before.

Yeah, but this
is different.

It's very different.
He--

The other times, he's always
been able to get himself out of
the dark places he goes to,

but this time--

He doesn't even want
to celebrate his birthday.

But... I do.

I want to have a party.
You know?

Lots of people
and good talk,
good booze, good food.

Lamb, can you help me?

Whatever you need.

I have a plan.

Eddie, you will play
General Buck Lanham,

commander of the
22nd Infantry Regiment in France
during World War II.

And Evan,
you will play

Papa's
African white hunter hero,
Philip Percival.

We'll be reinforced at lunch
by Papa's old Cuban friends.

There's Sinsky.

He's a Basque seaman

who now captains cargo ships
between New Orleans and Havana.

The Herrara brothers,
Roberto and Luis.

Luis was a surgeon
for the Loyalists
during the Spanish Civil War.

Paxtchi Ibarlucia
and Fernando Mesa,

both Spanish Civil War
veterans exiled in Cuba.

Oh, and one other
survivor of that crew
I know only as Lucas.

He's Cuban, and he's
a very mysterious character.

Only Papa
seems to know him.

EDDIE: Colonel Buck Lanham
and the 22nd Infantry Division

wishing you
a happy birthday, Ernie!

Jolly good, Pop.

Damn good lion,
and happy birthday
from you know who, huh?

**

**

** (singing along with record
in German)

** (all singing along
in German)

**

**

**

You've all gone crazy.

Oh!

** (singing in Spanish
continues)

So, we're sitting
on the steps

of the San Cristobal Cathedral
in Havana.

Sinsky and I get drunk.

So I said,

"Papa, when was the last time
you went to confession?"

"Oh, 15, 16 years at least,
maybe more."

"Let's go!" Papa says.

The priest began
sweating immediately.

It took eight hours!

Eight hours? Oh, pooh.
It couldn't have
taken that long.

Oh, you don't understand.

No, eight hours.
No one can have that much sin.
You made it up.

The priest fainted.

Yeah, I tried to revive him
with some Napoleon brandy,

but he just passed out
before he could
give us absolution!

Miss Mary,
you were a correspondent
in the war.

Oh, yes,
uh, for Time magazine.

And before that,
The Chicago Daily News.

Yeah, I was in Paris
when the Germans took the city

and in London
during the Blitz.

London's where I met Papa.

So, after
the Normandy invasion,

I decided to
stay with the troops
all throughout France.

-I had a good life on my own.

Okay, Papa.

So, this was just after
the war started?

Oh, yes, Eddie.
U-boats were everywhere
out there.

Nothing to stop them.

From my house in Havana,
at night you'd see tankers
burning out at sea.

Ooh, I wanted to
get me a U-boat.

Oh, so did I.
We all did, huh?

Yeah, but you never even
got close to a U-boat.

What do you know about it?
We were the ones out there.

We had Pilar
rigged like real Q-boat.
Right, Papa?

Hell, yes.

We had bazookas,
.50-caliber machine guns,
M-1 rifles,

Thompsons, grenades,
short-fuse bombs!

But you never saw one?

We came this close.
Didn't we, remember?

Oh, yes,
on Megano de Casigua.
Just off the shore.

But we gave that bastard
a chase.

She took off like a pig
with a pole up its posterior!

You're like a bunch of
schoolkids playing at war.

Fucking IRS just hit me
with income tax.

40,000.

Everything I had in savings
after all these years.

-They knew exactly what I had
in my accounts.

The government's
out to get me.

For God's sakes,
stop being so paranoid.

Fucking FBI
will be after me next.

Don't be so ridiculous.

How does government
taking $40,000
translate to "ridiculous"?

You're exaggerating.

But you always exaggerate
when you're drunk.

I'm not drunk.

At least not yet.

Fact is, you're drunk.

* If you don't love me, Mama *

* I don't care at all *

* 'Cause I can get
more womens *

* Than a passenger train
can haul *

One more for the road,
gentlemen.

We'll drink to
Operation Friendless.

We were the best,
and we did it for free.

I've never seen him
like this.

Yeah, well,
now we have the evening
to look forward to.

Well, at least
he's laughing.

Well, I'm certainly not.

How much money do you need?

Oh, no, no, no, Papa.
You don't have to.
I'm not asking.

Excuse me, Ernest.
Only way I can help
is with cash.

Now tell me, how much?

Maybe $4,000.
But you got taxes.
You got hit with taxes.

Don't--
Ernest, excuse me.

I have credits.

Your daughter's life.
Money's not important.

You go to New York,
I'll work it out.

Ernest?

Listen to me.

I'm your wife!
Look at me!

I deserve a certain amount
of courtesy.

Seem to have decided
that I, alone,
am inaudible to you.

Why do you always wait
till I'm having a good time
to ruin it?

Why are you always
such a bastard?

I'm not trying
to be a bastard.

Well, if you're not trying,
you're certainly making
a good imitation of one.

I'm trying to enjoy!

You are rude
and you are inconsiderate.

You insult me! On my dignity
as a human being, goddamn it!

You get back
what you just put out.

What I put out?

I went to a great deal
of effort to make this
a pleasant lunch for you.

Yeah, and ruined it
by being a bitch!

I can't believe how much
you're like my mother.

I'm not like your mother!

You want someone
to kiss your ass,

then you go back
to your sweet,
lovely Hadley.

Why don't you
just call her up?

I'm sure she'll
leave her husband
and come back to you.

Call her up,
like you do all
your other whores!

-You go to hell!
-I don't need to!
I'm already here!

So why in God's name
did you marry me?

Another mistake I made.

Maria. Por favor.

You apologize to me,
or so help me God!

I'll take "so help me God."

How do you like it now,
gentlemen?

Goddamn it.

You have the feeling
they're not telling
funny stories out there?

Yeah, whatever it is,
it seems pretty serious.

I feel like
we missed something.

If we did, I don't want
to know about it.

Had enough for one day.

Leaving, Luis?
No, Evan. I'm going
to get my bag.

I want to take Ernesto's
blood pressure.

It's probably normal.

A lot of killing now.

PAXTCHI: At night in Havana,
the streets are deserted.

Few tourists still
come from the States,
but very few.

Everyone is scared.

We're thinking
of leaving to Miami.

Well, who knows?
We may have to
pull out of here too.

So, how is it,
el doctor?

Ernesto, you're going
to live to be a hundred.

At least a hundred.

Yes, but will I still be able
to make love every day
and drink what I want

and have good conversation
with my friends
and not bore anybody?

It would probably do for you
not to drink so much.

Sure.

Birthdays excepted.

¿Por qué no?

Evan, why don't you
have Luis look at you.

-Maybe he can help.
-No, thank you. I'm fine.

Yeah, Evan, come on.

Not fine.

It's not necessary,
thank you.

Let me take a look, Evan.

Only take a minute.
Unbutton your shirt.

Go on, Evan. Do it.

Do you know what this is?

Yes.

Gangrene.

I can change the bandages
for you, if you wish.

That's very kind
of you, Doc,

but I've enlisted a medic,
and he does a marvelous job.

These should be changed.
Soon.

Yes, we'll take care of it.

-For pain.
-Thank you. It's not necessary.

It will be... very soon.

We go, Papa.

Adiós.

Adiós.

Adiós.

Well, that cat's
out of the bag.

How long have you known?

Three months.

How long did they give you?

Not long.
Why I came to see you.

I wasn't sure
I'd get another chance.

But how it is.
No regrets.

It's been a decent life.

I've been such a prick.

No.

You know,

I--

I never gave a damn
about our Lord.

But we'll pray, truly.

I'd like that, Hem.

It's all right.
Yeah.

To friends.

To friendship.

Papeles.

Continué.

Who is it?
It's Eddie.

Ah, come in.

Shut the door behind you.

I, uh, brought you
some water.

Oh, love, you have
to forgive my temper.

-I used to be able
to control it better.

I... used to be
a lot tougher.

When I was a little girl,
I loved my father so much.

I thought that
he was the greatest man
on the face of the earth.

I watched my mother
just nagging him,

unrelentingly bitching
without quarter.

She broke him.
She destroyed his spirit.

And I promised myself
that I'd never be like that.

I don't want to be a bitch,

but I can't seem
to stop myself.

It's okay.

Hello.

DEBBIE :
Eddie.
Hi.

You said you'd call me.
I've been waiting all day.

I know. I know.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

It's been a long day.

Eddie.

I'm in love with you.

And I believe
you feel the same way,
but I need you to tell me.

Eddie?

EDDIE :
I felt like I was falling
into a world of madness.

And somehow,
it was up to me to stop it.

Eddie told me about Evan.

I'm sorry.

People dying
that never died before.

Do you want to
come in and talk?

Sure.

Señor.

You have
a telephone call.

He say
it is very important.

Hello?
MAN: Mr. Trafficante
wants to see you.

We're sending a car
to pick you up.

Hey, Rene, tell them
not to wait for dinner.
I have to go to Havana.

Good evening,
Mr. Myers.

I'm Sal.

Mr. Trafficante's
waiting for you
at the Ambos Mundos Hotel.

Hey, why would
the head of the mafia
want to see me?

Get in.

Buenas noches.

Ooh!

Mr. Trafficante.

Lupe?

Why are we here?

I make it a rule
to pay my debts.

That's why we're here tonight
and why I'm taking my time
to see you.

You understand?

You don't owe me anything,
Mr. Trafficante.

Yeah, I do.

That article you wrote about
the FBI framing Sal Lopez?

Well, he's a friend of mine.
You saved his ass.

I appreciate that.

I hear you're a friend
of Mr. Ernest Hemingway's.

Good guy?

Absolutely, yeah.

Tough?

Uh, yeah, I think so.

Not like most people think
though, you know.

He's actually
very shy and gentle.

I understand you had a visit
from an FBI agent named
John Fletcher in Miami.

Not much happens on my turf
I don't hear about, kid.

He wanted you to inform
on your friend, Mr. Hemingway.

And you told this FBI guy
to go fuck himself.

I'm not sure what
you're getting at,
Mr. Trafficante.

Somebody very high up,

a person who is very powerful
in the United States government,

has a hard-on
for your friend Hemingway.

They want him
publicly discredited.
They want him out of Cuba.

Uh... why?

You don't need to know why.

Let's just say that
this individual doesn't like
what your friend knows.

Doesn't like what he does
or how he thinks

or how important
a celebrity he is.

He's out to burn
Hemingway's ass.

It's personal.

The IRS just sandbagged
your friend, didn't they?
Forty grand.

Yeah. Well, I'm telling you,
it isn't over.

MAN :
They're talking at the bar.

And we're sure
it's Trafficante?

Yes, I am.

Looks like we're gonna
get a thunder shower.

Good.

Cool things down.
This heat is brutal.

We're square?

Yes, sir. Thank you.

You did a good thing, kid.

Sally Lopez is
a straight-arrow guy.

Good, honest union man,
big family.

If it wasn't for you,
fucking FBI would've
let him hang in the wind.

They're all pricks.

One more thing.
Tell Mr. Hemingway
I admire his books.

Are you, darling boy?

Oh-ho-ho!

Wow, it's really--
It's really raining
out there.

Uh, we were worried
about you, lamb.

Oh.

Yeah, I just met
with-- with the mafia.

-Santos Trafficante.
-Yeah.

Yeah, you're pretty tight
with this mafia character,
aren't you, huh?

Who else
are you tight with?

Papa, let him explain.

-I don't know what you mean.
-You know damn well what I mean.

You're fucking
double-crossing me.

Eddie, get out of here.

Papa?
Eddie, just get out.

Get out of here!

Papa, stop it before
you say or do something
that you will regret.

Last time you were here,
you met with your FBI contact
at the Ambos Mundos.

-Stop it.

No, no, no, no.
I know that guy.
He's a friend of mine.

Fucking Judas!

Eddie!

Oh, my God!

Papa, what has
gone wrong with you?

Are you gonna
hit me next?

Stupid drunken bastard!

Is that what you're doing?

You think we're all
gonna double-cross you.

Get off me!

Trafficante says--

Trafficante says that
they want you out of Cuba.

He says the FBI
and Batista's secret police

are working together
to set you up.

They think you're
smuggling weapons
for the rebels.

Someone...

high up in the US government
is out to get you.

He said that it
was a personal vendetta.

EDDIE : Physical
pain is nothing compared
to the pain of a lost bond.

For the second time in my life,
I felt completely alone.

You really think
that boy would
betray you?

Did I hurt you bad?

No, you didn't hurt me.
I'm fine.

How's it feel?

It feels like
you punched me in the face.

Well, maybe we should go
get some ice on it, huh?

Nah, I'd rather just go.

Don't go.

I was wrong, kid.

Full apologies.

I was potted,
bad in the head.

Being a prick.

And I'm sorry.

Truly.

How does it feel now, kid?

It's just numb.
It feels like a mule
kicked me in the face.

No mule.
Just a dumb ass.

-No, just swollen.

Here. Put that on.
That'll help.

So why is the government
out to get you?

Well, this was back
during the war.

Young FBI character I met.

I liked him.

Trusted him.

We all did.

Even went on patrols
with us.

And we'd go to the Floridita
afterwards and have a drink.

One night,
it was just me and him,

very drunk.

And he told me a story
that made me feel hollow sick
in my gut.

A party in the basement
of J. Edgar's house in Virginia.

Mr. J. Edgar
and his pal Mr. Tollen

dressed
in women's clothes.

Wow.

Got Mr. FBI kid very drunk.

J. Edgar made him
take off his pants

and played with him,

while bosom buddy Tollen
shot moving picture photos.

You could tell
he was giving it straight.

He cried.

Was very scared.

And do you think that Hoover
knows that he told you this?

My fault.

You remember
the yacht club celebration
after we won the Nobel?

Oh, dear God, Papa.
Not that yacht club party.

A lot of wet talk.

Me, worst of all.

Just after
the African plane crashes.

You know, my cracked skull
not working very well.

And with booze,
not working at all.

Yeah. Dumb.

By this time,
Mr. FBI was dead.

Heart attack.

So I figured
the obligation of silence
was over, you know?

And then this creep
starts talking about
what a great man J. Edgar is.

And I told him
what a great man
J. Edgar wasn't.

Got pissed.

Called me a liar
and ran out of there fast.

-So, that's it.
-Yeah.

So, what now?

I mean, I vote
that we get out of here
as soon as possible.

-Well, anywhere.

Just don't fancy spending
any time in La Cabana prison,
thank you very much.

You don't get run
out of your house.
You defend it.

Papa, we have nothing
to defend it with.

These people
are very powerful.
They're ruthless.

I'm gonna cancel
the fishing trip.

No.

I want to go fishing
on my birthday.

I told Gregorio
I'd meet him at Cojimar
at 7:00.

Well, all right.
Then you two go.

And Evan and I will stay here
and guard the homestead.

No, we need you.

Who needs me?

Me.

You need me?

We like this.

-Hola.

Papa.

They ambushed Lucas.

They shot him to pieces.

Ambushed?

He had more than 30 bullets
in his body.

We have to close
our account, Papa.

They ambushed Lucas
last night.

Shot him to pieces.
What?

I haven't told
Miss Mary yet.

Don't want to worry her.

It's a fucking
black dog day, kid.

And I am doing my best
to get through it

without killing anybody,

especially me.

Papa! Papa!

Small school of mullet,
under two-pronged attack.

The bonito are coming up
from below,

the birds hitting 'em
from above.

Gregorio, why isn't
the bait in the water?

We're not going fishing
today, are we?

¡Atencíon!

Oh, my God.

Gregorio!

Papa! Papa!

Coast Guard cutter
coming right at us!

What'll we do?

Put her ahead, trolling speed,
our bow right on theirs,

so they can't see
the stern.

To them, it'll look
like we're fishing.

Aw, shit!

We have to work faster!
¡Rápido!

He's fishing.
Good.

Means he hasn't dumped
the weapons yet.

Mr. Hoover
will be pleased.

As soon as we have him
in custody, radio Havana.
I want the press informed.

We'll bring him
into the yacht club dock
in handcuffs.

That'll make a good picture
for the front page
of The New York Times.

What if we fail
to find weapons?

You got weapons aboard
this ship, don't you?

MAN :
Pilar, stop your engines
immediately

and prepare to be boarded.

Since you've just put
my future in jeopardy,

would you mind telling me
how these armaments got aboard?

Sinsky.

He's been running them for Lucas
and his Havana operation.

I got these for the kids
in the village.

Our village?

Small gift
for the country
and the people I love.

Why didn't you tell me?

Didn't want you to worry.

Well, isn't this swell.

A small visit,
courtesy of the feds.

Mr. Hemingway,
I'm a great admirer
of your work.

I've read
all of your books.

I'm very flattered.

I apologize for this intrusion,
but I have orders to search
this boat for illegal weapons.

A sus órdenes, comandante.

Your presence
aboard this ship
is highly annoying.

We were out fishing
for Mr. Hemingway's birthday.

A peaceful enough endeavor,
wouldn't you say?

I have my orders, señora.

Well, then execute them
and be quick about it.

It's getting late,
and Mr. Hemingway wishes
to catch a marlin.

Just as soon
you didn't irritate him.

Given the present circumstance,
best to keep our mouths shut.

Oh, shit.

There are no weapons
aboard the Hemingway boat.

Are you absolutely sure
of that?

Absolutely sure.

Fletcher,
we've got a problem.
No sweat.

Put together
an evidence package,
a nice selection--

tommy guns, BAR's,
ammo, grenades.

Not too much.
Just enough to show intent.

That's not gonna
solve our problem.
Take a look.

What are you talking about?

Son of a bitch.

Gregorio, take her in!

**

Cuidado. Cuidado.
Please.

Carlos.
¿Qué tal?

There he is!
Oh, lordy!

Y'all look just like
the old man and the sea.
Doesn't he, Charlie?

Just like
the old man of the sea!

ALL: Happy birthday, Papa!

** (singing "Happy Birthday"
in Spanish)

We'll be okay
if we can get a drink.

Papa!

**

-Number two.

-Sure.

Record's 16.
I might just break it.

Happy birthday.

Don't ever let yourself
get famous, kid.

You let your work
get famous.

That's okay.

This celebrity shit
is-- is deadly.

Nobel thing is even worse.

You work all your life,

you get that prize,

and as a writer,
you're finished.

I mean, all of my life
has been about writing
as well as I could

and sometimes better
than I could.

It's all I cared about.

It just won't come anymore.

What do you do about that?

**

Quite the party.
Mmm.

Everyone who's anyone
in Havana is here.

It must have cost a fortune
to close this place down.

Well, it's only money,
lamb.

There's an old
Cuban saying.

"Some people are very poor.
They only have money."

I always loved Paris.

I liked sex too.

Henry Miller
made both sound dirty.

I met Henry Miller
when I was working
at the Chicago Daily News.

Oh, he was this
intensely charismatic--

What did you think
of Thomas Wolfe?

Oh. Confused size
with writing.

He was a large man,
wasn't he?

Well, how do you
like it now, gentlemen?

Excuse me.

Well, that was another
hugely successful evening,
wasn't it?

Oh, I have to say,
if I hear any of those
hackneyed phrases one more time,

I think I'm gonna
go insane.

What was it again, Papa?
"Oh, how do you like it now,
gentlemen?"

Or the classic,
"When the chips are down."

Oh, gosh, what has happened
to your vaunted wit,
your incredible charm?

I must say,
it didn't seem to
go down too well with--

What was his name's daughter?
The one you were all over?

I hate to say it,
but you're leaning towards
being a big, bloody bore.

What? Excuse me!
Would you mind
with the door, old man?

I want to thank you
for working so diligently

to cheer me up
on my 59th birthday.

Dried-up old bitch.

I heard that!

I am not
the limp-dick, impotent one
in this marriage!

Mary.

Don't walk away from me
when I'm talking to you!

Ha! You're talking to me?
You're screaming at me!

I--
Oh, shut up!

What happened?
This used to be paradise.

Surely it seems
like they have everything.

This gorgeous place,

plenty of money,

good looks,
good health, fame.

But there is something missing
for both of them.

Love and friendship.

A willingness and a desire
to put aside your own ego,

to enrich
the day-by-day experience
of your beloved.

That's what
they're missing, kid.

It's like
being under siege.

Most marriages are.

Mine sure was.

EDDIE :
Evan once wrote a poem.

"Maybe the peace we all seek
is but a dream."

MARY: No!

No! Papa!

-Hey, now!
-Give it to me!

Eddie, take it!

Give it!
Papa, come on, stop.

No!
No, you stop now!

There's nothing for me
in life anymore.

I can't write.
I can't fuck.

I can end this shitty life.
My choice.

Give me the gun.
No, Eddie, don't!

Give me the gun, kid.
You don't have to do this.

You know
I can take it from you.

Be a good boy.
Give it to me.

-If I give it to you, what
are you gonna do with it?
-What I have to.

-You don't have to do this.
-MARY: Listen to him, Papa.
Listen to him.

We're all gonna
die sometime, kid.
What does it matter?

-Give me the gun!
-No.

-I don't want to hurt you.
-You're gonna have to kill me.

What the fuck right
do you have to say no to me?

Who the fuck are you?

Hey, I love you.

I love you, Papa.

There's another one here,
Hem.

I'm another guy
who loves you.

We're not gonna
let you do this, Hem.

-No, Hem! No!

-Let go!
-MARY: No, no, no!
Stop it! Stop it!

-Give me that gun!

Don't do it.
Don't do it.

Oh, Hem, I want you
to stop this now.

This has all gone too far.

No good now.

You're not being rational,
love.

I'm completely rational.

My head is good, clear.

I know what I'm doing.

I want to die.

Before it all
turns to real shit,
and it will, believe it.

No, I won't believe that.

We've had times
of great and good happiness,
haven't we?

Sure. Good, old times.

We can still
have fresh, brand-new
good times, right?

I'm just a worthless,
impotent old man.

You said it.
But I didn't mean it.

I'm sorry
that I said that. I--

We both say things in anger
that we don't mean.

I'm your wife,
and I love you.

And I couldn't live
without you.

You never said that before.

Haven't I?

I'm different
from other people.

I-- I can't--

I couldn't.

Understood.

Me too.

We're two
pretty fucked-up people.

Let's never get married again.

Certainly not
to each other.

ERNEST:
You make a decision, kid,
make it carefully.

Know what you truly want.

Consider every
possible consequence,

or you'll wind up wondering
what the hell happened.

Go away.

I have to
tell you something.
I don't want to hear it.

I don't want
to talk to you.

You think I'm an accessory
in your life, but I'm not.

I don't need you.
I'm fine.

I don't need anything
from you.

I don't want to hear from you.
I just want you
to leave me alone.

I love you.

I love you.

EDDIE :
Most of what I learned
about how to live life,

I learned from Papa.

One thing he once told me
became that little legacy
of compassionate wisdom

I had so desperately wanted
from my father,

and I've lived by it.

He said, "The only value
we have as human beings

is the risks
we're willing to take."

Papa committed suicide
with a shotgun

at his home
in Ketchum, Idaho,

18 months later,

July 2, 1961.

There was no suicide note
since Papa could
no longer write.

After it all,
I guess what he really wanted
was to have true love.

He once wrote, "A man alone
ain't got no chance."

**

**

** (men singing in Spanish
continues)

**

Captioned by Captions, Inc.