All language subtitles for The.Dark.Side.Of.The.Heart.1992.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]-eng

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The ball I threw

while playing in the park

has not yet reached the ground

I don't give a damn if
a woman's breasts are like magnolias

or like figs

if her skin feels
like a peach or sandpaper...

It's irrelevant

if she wakes up
with breath like an aphrodisiac

or an insecticide.

I'm perfectly

willing to put up with

a nose

that'd win first prize
at a carrot show.

But on one thing

I am intransigent.

On no account whatsoever
will I forgive a woman

who cannot fly.

If she can't,
she'd better forget me.

THE DARK SIDE OF THE HEART

I didn't know not having you

could be as sweet as calling you,
even if you won't come...

that your absence could be

as painful
as hitting my head

while thinking of you.

I like it.

Yes.

Was I right to have your friend
from Buenos Aires come over?

I'd like to discuss how many shots

of our product will be shown.

That's up to you.
You're in the best position to decide.

Please excuse me.
It was a pleasure, but I have to

take off.

I'm sorry.

You animal!

Your manners are beginning to tire me.

We fly any way we can.
Gives'em something to tell their wives.

Pick up your check
before I change my mind.

And call before you go back.

Yes, master.

I have another job for you.

But please don't
come to the presentation.

Hi, I need some vegetables.

We're the caravels three

of Captain Christopher Colombus.

We're sailing
to the virgin-continent

with it's new conqueror!

A beer, please.

I don't give a damn
if a woman's breast

are like magnolias or
dried figs...

if her skin feels
like a peach or sandpaper...

It's totally

irrelevant

if she wakes up with breath
like an aphrodisiac

or an insecticide.

I'm perfectly willing to put up

with a nose that'd win
first price at a carrot show.

But on one thing

I am intransigent.

On no account whatsoever will
I forgive a woman who cannot fly.

If she can't,
she'd better forget me.

Training flights, $50.

Domestic flights, $70.

International, $100.

My tactic is to watch you

learn how you are,
love you as you are.

To talk to you

listen to you

build with words
an indestructible bridge.

To stay in your memory...
I don't know how

or under what pretext

but to stay with you.

My tactic is to be frank

and to know you are frank.

To sell each other no pretences

so no curtain or abyss
comes between us.

My stratey,
is even deeper and simpler:

That one day, I don't know how

under what pretext,
you'll finally need me.

'Tactis'... by Mario Benedetti.

Are you taking me somewhere?

I bet you've read Onetti too.

I'm not here
to discuss literature, honey.

This is a cabaret,
not a literary cafe.

Yeah, sorry.

Your place?

I'll cost you more.

Because you are mine

and are not mine.

Because I think of you.

Because the night has open eyes.

Because the night passes,
and I say "love".

Funny place to keep books.

A habit I got into
during the military regime.

Why do you like poetry?

What do you do?

Justice of the Peace.

Your time's almost up.

Want to do it or not?

Why do you like poetry?

It's part of my job.

It allows me to meet
sophisticated people, like you.

A guy who likes poetry
can't be that bad.

He may be broke, but...

if he has money, he spends it.

It's $100.

At home, it's $100.

Better pay me now.

Excuse me?

Do you know Benedetti?

Does he work here?

Do you want to go to heaven?

Don't worry, whores enter first.

May I have a coffee?

Sure.

Sorry, forgot the keys.

How did it go?

I met an unusual woman.

How many tits?

Hello.

I'm Eric, a friend of Gustavo's.

They pay you?

Yeah, I'll go to a hotel.

What do you do?

I'm cold.

I mean, in life.

I teach languages.

You're not writing.

I'm with my train.

How do you like it?

I just bought it.

Always losing them when I move.

When did you stop writing?

Had to go on a trip.

Maybe you have
nothing more to say.

Or maybe you've realized that

I'm the most important woman
in your life.

Or maybe

you've decided to keep silent

so I may dictate my words to you.

Your words!

They might be suitable
for military communiques

But for a poem...?

Found the one who flies?

Not yet.

You're hiding something.
I always do!

That's what you like best.

Like it?

I don't like anything, Oliverio.

Poor thing.

You're so boring.

What is it?

I don't know.

I was thinking-some day
I'll have to take you.

I don't know how I'll break it.

It's easier with others.

But I don't know how I'll tell you.

I pity you.

Why?

You have a shitty job.

Like some coffee?

A smoke?

Ridiculous,
worrying about your health.

I've spotted a few jobs for you.

Bank manager... interesting.

It just says assistant,
but leave it to me.

The man there is getting old.

No need to find me a job.

I'm alright.

How can I explain? I'm a poet.

A poet?

I am a poet.

What kind of job is that?

Where does it say,
"Poet required, good salary"?

I'm trying to make
you see reason

so you finally grow up.

What for?

My nerves stick to the mud

to the walls

and embrace the branches.

They penetrate the earth

scatter though the air,
and reach for the sky.

Marble and horses
have veins like mine.

You're delirious!

All pain hurts my flesh, my bones.

I've died so often seeing bulls slain.

You're completely crazy.

You're mad, a sick child.

An irresponsible idiot
I should force to suicide.

If I see a cloud, I fly with it.

If a woman goes to bed,
I go with her.

You scare me.

How often I've asked,
"Am I that stone?"

If I follow a corpse, I stay by it.

If an egg is laid, I cackle.

If someone thinks of me,
I'm already a memory.

He bothering you?

Yes!

Today's man,
as evolved as he thinks he is

hasn't totally accepted
his sexuality as God intended.

Most of our problems

are caused by people
who haven't had a good fuck.

Badly fucked army officers
and politicians...

The masses are fucked too

but they are unable
to find answers

to the sexual violence
of exploitation.

In North America, you know

an exhibition like this
would be sponsored by...

American Express.

Here

It can be closed at any time
because some hypocrite reports it.

An artist should live
where Art is motivated

by the hope of being subversive.
Otherwise

it's just,
how do you say, occup...

Occupation therapy...

as permitted in the madhouse.
You know that.

Something's wrong.

Mrs Dolores Harriet de Lopez Meller

Would like a 9 foot dick for
her summer house living room.

She'll pay with American Express.

It's the same everywhere.

Oli, I'm hungry.
Did you write anything?

"You sail through my blood
and know my borders

and wake me up at midday

to lay me down in your memory.
You, my Fury

my patience,
tell me what the hell I'm doing.

Why do I need you?
Who are you, silent one

running through me,
my passion's reason?

Why do I want to fill myself

with me, to cover you, finish you...

to mingle only
with your dear bones, you

my one country against oblivion."

If she doesn't say yes after this,
I'll kill her!

What do I owe you?

Well, it's quite a long poem.

Three steaks would do it,
but make them thick.

Excuse me, sir. The manager
was hoping you'd pay your bill.

Tell him not to worry.
I'll take care of it now.

They say I'm

no longer myself...

that I'm crazier than yesterday.

City of crazy hearts.

Crazy!

I don't want to go out to smoke.

Don't want to walk
the streets with...

you!

I don't want to wonder

who put the grass
in the old drawer.

Good morning, valium!

Good morning, ma'am.

Good morning, doctor.

I curse your love

your boundless realm

your desire for pain!

In this fucking city!

Fucking city!

I long for nothing
in this moment of eternity

which is all,
when I desire nothing.

Thanks.

Too corporal, limited, compact...

I'll open my pores, disintegrate...

not too much, though.

Thank you.

As musical instrument, the clarinet
is richer than the dictionary.

Thank you.

Hope has so many vacants lots.

Anybody in the vagina?

Hi.

Where's Gustavo?
In jail.

Again!

They closed the exhibition.
Greath, huh?

We have to pay the... mail.

The 'bail'.

And the money?

Well...

The lady who wanted to buy
that big work... remember?

Here she is.

What will you do?

I'll tell her
I'm his dealer in Montreal.

Better yet, in New York!

She should buy it now,
because he's controversial.

His prices are going to skyrocket!

How about that?

We could meet at other times.

You're my lawyer.

I'm also your son.

When are you going to stop
acting like a fool, Dad?

Don't you start scolding me.

And don't kiss your mother for me!

Thank you, counsellor!

Thank those who paid the bail.

I may be crazy,
but I do love you.

Buddies!

I thought you might be hungry
so I wrote this.

Let's see...

Worth at least 3 steaks!

But what I really need

is an oh so warm, oh so pink

huge, throbbing, juicy...

Champagne.

I don't think
it's a sonnet she needs.

Did you notice?
What?

Her hair.

She has a mustache

hair on her arms...

A hormone problem.

These women have a sex
like a vacuum cleaner

or a suction cup.

There's no defending yourself

even with prickly underwear

or a lightning rod
for your balls.

It's all useless. They push
their sex on you with such violence...

Before you know it,
you're on a roller-coaster

of endless spasms.

You must resign yourself to keeping

motionless for months

if you hope to recover

the weight you lost in an instant.

Why'd you choose me?

I liked your mustache.

First time I heard that compliment.

Still...

must've liked something else.

Are you married?

Not anymore.

Would you marry again?

Don't panic!

You'll never hear me say,
"I'm pregnant, gotta marry me."

Marriage isn't important.

You can live without marriage, but...

still...

you can't live without love.

What do you think?

Can you move over?
There's a crease that's bothering me.

That's it.

What brings you here?

I'm waiting for him.

Does he know?

Sure.

He asked for one last

hot chocolate.

Always with young people.

You like kids.

Fucking death, cruel death

useless death, implacable death

inexorable death

mysterious death

sudden death, accidental death

death while on duty...

What would you do without me?

I don't exist by myself, Oliverio,
try to understand.

I'm an instrument.

You follow orders.

Why can't you take me?

Are you in love with me?

Sometimes I think
you're dying for it.

You'd love to feel
my hand between your legs

to have me squeeze your tits,
fucking death!

A poet talking like a truck driver!

Or growing up?

I'd take you, but you
still use words that stop me

As long as you say them,
I'm forbidden to touch you.

Which words?

As time goes by
you'll forget them.

Then you'll be at my mercy.

Have you found her?

Who?

The one who flies.

Yes.

What's the product?

It's a new campaign.

Sure...

I can come up with a few ideas
in a day or two.

Not by mail,
I'd rather meet you.

Don't stay motionless
by the roadside.

Don't freeze joy
or love half-heartedly.

Don't save yourself

now or ever.

Don't save yourself.

Don't become serene.

Don't keep only
a still corner in this world.

Don't let your eyelids drop

heavy like judgments.

Don't stay without lips.

Don't sleep without dreams

imagine you're bloodless

or judge yourself in haste.

But if, after all,
you can't help it

and freeze joy,
love half-heartedly

save yourself and become serene

keep only a still corner
in this world

and let your eyelids drop

heavy with judgments

stay without lips,
sleep without dreams

imagine you're bloodless,
judge yourself in haste

and stay motionless
by the roadside

and save yourself.

Then

don't stay with me.

How do you feel.

Like a 100 dollars!

Good!

And you?

When did you arrive?

Today.

And came straight here...

sex fiend!

And in Buenos Aires?
There I go to mass.

What did you say you do?

Something absurd...

I was Justice of the Peace.

Now I'm an astronaut.

I write. When I need money

I rent myself, do advertising.

So you're a whore like me.

Did you think about me?

No, bad memory.

I'm lying.

Once... I found a book
by Benedetti in the bathroom.

In the bathroom?

What'll you have.

Don't waste your money here.
Wait a minute and we'll go.

Because the night passes,
and I say "love".

Because you came
to get your picture

and are better
than all your pictures.

Because you are beautiful
from head to soul.

Because you are good to me
from head to soul.

Because you hide sweetly
behind pride

small and sweet,
armor-plated heart.

Because you are mine
and are not mine.

I must love you, beloved.
I must love you.

Even if this wound pains me doubly.

Even if I look for you
and don't find you.

And when the night passes

and you are mine

and not mine.

No, wait! Please!

Stop!

What's wrong?

I don't know.

I felt a pain.

I'm sorry.

Don't worry, I won't
charge you this time.

Worked at the cabaret long?

This one? A year.

And before?

I went to a boarding school
run by nuns.

How much do you make a month?

How much do you make a month?

Enough to live on.

Not much, it seems.

I'm saving up.

For what?

To go to Europe.

My best friend lives in Barcelona.

How much more do you need?
A little

Get dressed.

I have to meet a girlfriend
at the club.

Do you have a man?

A pimp?

I'm a freelancer.

Do you want to be my pimp?

You put up the place,
I find the girls.

A couple of friends...

Could be a good business.

A pimp...

Never occurred to me before.

I'll think it over.

Free for lunch tomorrow?

Lunch?
Give me a call and we'll see.

Got a phone?

Never look at a whore
in broad daylight.

When you going back?

I'd stay for you;
if not, tomorrow.

Bon voyage.

Enough!

Tonight I'll shut the door.

I'll put on my coat

set aside these notes
that speak only of you.

I lie about your whereabouts

my body forever shaking me.

My body forever shaking me.

Have you put on weight?

That was just a political joke!

There's an ad for a marketing
manager. You'd like that.

I don't need work.
Besides, I've got money!

What'll you do with it?
How long will it last?

I don't know.

But I have an idea.

Morning, young man.

My hand is always late.

Another hand
mixes with mine to form a hand.

When about to sit
I notice my body sits

in another body
that just sat where I sit.

Entering a house I discover
I was there before I arrived.

I may not attend my funeral.

As they sprinkle commonplaces
over me, I may

already be dressed as a skeleton,
yawning at their phony tears.

Have a good day.

Hi, Oli!

You know, we Canadians are
very concerned about our health.

This is aerobics Latin-style!

What's new?

I've been thinking of
displaying my works in front of

the Government House
and the Cathedral.

A work of art in an exhibition
is like a caged bird.

We must go out into the streets

and reach the people.

Art in freedom!

Back in jail, you mean.

I'm hungry. You didn't
happen to write something.

Don't forget me.
I'm working up an appetite!

"We don't build a house
to stay at home.

We don't love to stay in love

and we don't die to die.

We have an animal's
thirst and patience."

Odd. Doesn't sound
like a love poem to me.

Sure it's a love poem!
Read it to her, she'll understand.

It's written specially for women.

Ok. Anyway, the last one
drove her wild. She's dying for me!

What'll it be?

Anything. A mixed grill.

I've got very good meat.

Animal! We'll starve cause of you.

Stop wasting time on this nonsense.

We're as lonely as shit.

We have to do something.

Let's look for a chick.

Even if she can't fly,
we'll get some action.

I can overlook
every fault in a woman

except her not being able to fly.

I'd need radar.

I'm blind.

Shirt.

Pants.

You're covering your chest.

Red.

White.

Green.

Blue!

We get off at the next stop.

When won't I see you again?

Soon.

Call me.

Aren't you ashamed?
How is it possible?

How could you fall so low?

You're unfit to live among people.

Mom?

Yes, son.

You could've been so happy!

You're cultivated,
intelligent, selfisch...

But what have you been doing all your life?

Cheating and cheating.
Nothing but cheating.

And now, as usual

the only one really cheated
is yourself.

You've never given yourself.

You'd prefer anything.

Rather than face yourself.

How can you stand
so much emptiness?

Why do you strive
to fill it with nothing?

You're unable

to lend a hand
or open your arms.

It drives me to despair.

I feel like crying.

Anyone buying it?

You'd be the first.
Who spends money on poetry today?

I'll take it.

What's wrong?
Is the publishing industry in crisis?

On my tail again!

Remember, I'm everywhere.
What now, feeling lonely?

Want me to do what I said?

Are you horny?

Taking all of them?

You know, you're just
a small-time death.

A little bit phony, a bit...

stupid.

Unprofessional, boring...

Unprofessional, boring...

You're not

a bullfighting death

a guerilla warfare death

a Formula-1 death.

You're a pensioner's death

a nuthouse blues death

a low-rent-housing death

a poor neighborhood death,
a tv death

a mediocre death.

Anonymous. Cowardly.

There's a position open

in an advertising agency.

I had nothing to do with it.

Fool wouldn't wait for me,
took an overdose.

A big agency.
Shove it!

Sometimes I wonder

why you try so hard
to convince me you're a poet.

- Sad because your books don't sell?
- No.

- Something I said?
- No.

Listen to me, Oliverio

before you let loose
one of your idiocies...

You may behave like a child,
but you're not.

You're an adult.

You should know that love is a trap

designed so men
perpetuate the species.

A mechanism.

As necessary as my work.

Nothing else.

Just that.

I may intervene in love

even if it's not always fair.

Love can never
pass through your hands.

Justice can never
pass through your hands.

Even if they kill in the name
of the law, and die for love.

You blame me as if I were

responsible for everything.

I'm only playing my role.
Just like you.

I know no more than you.

I know one side,
you know the other.

Ask He who is
Responsible for Everything!

Give me a letter of introduction.
You must know him.

I work for him, I've never met him.

You work for him?

I think I do.

It would be horrible to realize
there was never anyone...

that I worked for nobody,
or nothing.

There's nothing personal
in what I do.

It would be awful
to discover I'm carrying out orders

nobody has given.

A death worrying about
God's existence... How underdeveloped!

Why don't you
buy yourself a nice dress?

We'll get drunk
and I'll say to you

all the things
no one's ever said to you.

You'll forget everything.

If God exists, he'll forgive you.
If not, you'll have lived a bit.

I'd be known as

the man who vanquished death
by winning her love.

The planet would change.

A love song
would prove more significant

to the history of mankind

than the 'Marseillaise',
the 'Internationale'...

those hymns you danced to till now.

Sorry...

but I have to get off.

I'm going to the hospital.

One of those cheap jokes you like.

See you.

I forbid my personalities
to interrupt while I'm playing.

Especially you,
you're always crying.

You fall apart over everything!

Want to borrow the train?

Ride a roller-coaster?

Give my dick some action?

No, it only wants one kind of action.

Besides, I don't feel well.

Am I smoking too much?

Keep acting like a jerk
and I'll die of sadness.

Queer!

And before?
I was a whore.

Never try to find out a woman's past.
You may be disappointed.

By daylight
one can ask certain questions.

I was married.

We had a daughter.

My husband was jailed
by the regime.

He disappeared.

I had to eat somehow

and keep my daughter
at the nun's school.

My dad's in Buenos Aires.

Really. In the suburbs.

He is an Evangelist preacher.

It's true.

But it's all the same.
Truth, lies...

It's always like that with a whore.

Did you go to college?

You go to college,
you work, you grow up

you screw, you read

you enjoy yourself,
you suffer, you live...

Does it matter how?

You work with your imagination

when you don't turn it
into a fucking whore to earn

some fucking dollars
so you can fuck a whore.

Imagine my fucking life!

How old were you during the coup?

When it began, a little girl.

And when it was over?

Twenty-two or so.

But it wasn't their fault.

They made many people whores

but didn't decide my career.

Were you afraid?

Yes... and I've also been hungry.

So please quit bugging me
and let's eat.

Ana!

Gypsy!

Curly is getting married!

I'm marrying Walter.

Oliverio, this is Gypsy.

Looking at a whore by daylight

is like seeing a movie
with the lights on

or a nightclub ot 10 am...

the dust swept up by the cleaners
swirling in the sun

or realizing
the poem you cried over

barely interests you the next day.

Imagine this fucking world

if we had to face it as it is!

Seeing the actor
who plyed Hamlet

at the soup kitchen.

Empty when you're paid
and feel nothing.

Sad, when you get paid
and DO feel something.

Like finding in a drawer
a photo of the whore at age nine

or letting you be with me

knowing that when
the magic is over

you'll be with a woman
like me in Montevideo

My baby.

You have to go.

A client.

Can't let him down.

He's Japanese, pays very well.

Will I see you later?

You can't stay.

What's wrong?

Want to marry me?

To redeem me?

I'm thirty.

I could't live any other way

and don't know if I'd want to.

Don't be a jerk.

Run out of money?

Screw you!

Don't mess up my life
and my work cause

you've got a crush and no dough!

Crying one's heart out

Crying a flood of tears

Crying over digestion and sleep...

Crying at ports and portals...

These fellow tears,
these yellow tears.

To open the faucets
and dams of crying

Soaking one's soul,
one's undershirt

flooding sidewalks and parks.

To swim away from our crying.

To study anthropology crying.

Attend family birthdays crying.

Going across Africa, crying.

Crying like an owl or a crocodile.

If it's true that owls
and crocodiles always cry.

Crying it all out, but well

with the nose

the knees

crying through navel and mouth.

Crying out of love, hatred, joy.

Crying in a tux,
for flatulence or gauntness.

Crying by improvisation, by rote.

Crying through all insomnia

all day long.

Where's Gustava?
In jail.

Thirty days, this time.

Public disorder and
who knows what other shit.

Bitch!

I'm writing to my ex-wife,
the last one.

Know what she's asking for?

Money!

Shall we go eat?

Don't have a poem.

Forget it, today it's on me.

I came into some money.
We're rich.

How's Gustavo?

Fine! I went to see him yesterday.

He's great,
earning a fortune in jail.

The motherfucker shapes bread
into cocks inscribed:

"Smile. A politician
is fucking you right now."

I came for a month
and stayed a year.

I like it here.

On that trip I met a woman.

You can't imagine what it was like.

She gave me these blow jobs
that made me her slate.

Her 'slave'!
If you like.

That's why I stayed a year.
Then things started to sour.

You can't base
your whole life around that.

But I like it...

I like this nuthouse a lot.

Even before I first came here
I knew I would.

I dreamed of seeing
the country of Cartazar.

Borges

Biay Casares...

It was an obsession.

With other countries

it's easy to imagine how they are.

But with Argentina,
it's not easy.

It's chaos.
You don't know where it'll lead.

The promise of heaven and hell
at the same time.

Fascinating.

Besides, you know what?

At home everything
is planned, calculated.

Even my death is planned.

Here, I can still dream
many different lives.

A nice country.

It has a great future.

The only thing missing
is how to survive the present.

Now, let's eat.

Didn't write anything. We'll pay.

No need for poems now.
I'm getting married.

Congratulations!

Thank you.

You have to come to the party.
Where's Gustavo?

He's having a show.
But he'll be at the party. When is it?

Next month.

Just right!

Steaks, as usual?

No meat for me.
A big salad with everything.

And you?

A rib steak, fries and wine.

Turning vegetarian?

Yes.

What is it?

I have an idea.

Keep this up
and I'll see a lot of you.

Them too,
they must've robbed a bank.

We couldn't decide
on a wedding present so...

From your romantic period.

She's still pretty.

Right!

Hey Karina! Meet my pals!

A present for you.

What is it?

A sculpture.

And who dares to say
my heart is crazed?

And who dares to say
my heart isn't crazed?

Look!

There she is...

the great Latin-American female

capable of swallowing a man
through her mouth

and giving birth
to him again and again.

Queen of unpolluted territories

able to repel urban plagues

with the milk
of her sacred breasts.

No duty-free-shop perfume for her!

She smells of the liquids of life

secreted

by countless pink vaginas

like tropical fruits.

I've never been to Corrientes.

Il take you there.

Mom?

Hi, darling!

A caffee?

And your husband?

We're adults.

You glanced at your watch.
Is he very punctual?

Another caffee, please

How are you?

When will you
let things go well for you?

Are you in love?

Come on, tell me. You're in love.

I'll only state my name and number.

Don't be silly.
I'm your wife... Your ex-wife.

And you?

Do you love that ass

who pays your bills?

Let's not start that.

Does he dress you
in saliva negligees, like I did?

Some never change.
When will you grow up?

What for?

No, but seriously, tell me...

Got a girlfriend, or still looking

for the one who flies?

It's very hard.

What?

Love.

How to love without possessing?

Or be loved without stifling?

Love is a pretext
to appropriate the other

to enslave the other

to transform the other's life

into your life.

How to love
and ask nothing in return?

And need nothing in return?

If time hadn't passed,
I might feel that was a reproach

I have a feeling you're scared.

You're going through something

big.

Our usual mistake is to think

only of what we're going through.

It seems so important to us.

Nothing about the other person
can be as important

it's often a tragic contradiction.

If time hadn't passed, that
would sound like self-criticism.

It's our most frequent mistake.

Wanting the other
to be as we'd like

not as he really is.

When we realize our mistake

sometimes it's too late.

But don't be afraid.

It's not good to be alone.

We grow old too soon.

Who is she?

It's complicated.

Fight!

Don't think about what you'll get

but what she needs from you.

What she expects from you.

Dollars!

Near the end of the world

where my errant boat

rides the waves...

May I?

What is it?

$300. I want you for myself
for three days.

Should give me a discount,
but we won't haggle.

It's $100 each time.

You might make a million and
ask me to spend ten years with you!

I'm not for sale, I'm for rent.

I'm a client.

You're a whore.

I have money.
It's nothing personal.

Rob a bank?

No, they published my book.
It's a best-seller.

I have a Japanese client,
just like you.

Are you mad at me?

This is about business.

And sex, of course.

I've no right to get angry.

I'm sorry.

I was a bit rude last time.

You act like a kid sometimes.

But not now.
You're a real man today.

You look like
a lawyer or an accountant.

Someone serious. Not an astronaut.

My fly.

What?

Open it and put your hand in.

I have no more.

What?

No more dollars.

I took on a job
just so I could see you.

I want to go to your place.

When I'm done here.

Remember the address?

Be there around four.

I'll see a few clients.

Don't stay here.

Take your money,
you'll pay later.

What do I want money for if...

if I'm dying?

Yesl

More!

My loneliness is so crowded

so full of nostalgia
and faces of you

of long-ago goodbyes

and welcoming kisses

taking off
and being left behind.

It's so crowded I can organize it
like a procession

by color, size and promises

by period,
sense of touch and taste.

I tremble no more
to embrace your absences

which attend and assist me
with my face of you.

I'm full of shadows

of nights and desires

of laughter and also a curse.

My guests gather

gather like dreams

with new animosities
and lack of candor.

I exorcise them...

I want to be alone
with my face of you.

But your face turns away

eyes of love no longer loving.

Like food searching
for its hunger... endlessly.

They extinguish my day.

The walls leave

the night remains.

Nostalgia leaves

nothing remains.

My face of you closes its eyes.

It's such a desolate loneliness.

I don't remember you.

I have a bad memory.

Who were you?

A sailor on the 'Toronto Star'?

On the 'Havana Maru'?

The astronaut who loved Benedetti?

Can't recall.

But you must.

Tell me your final optimism.

I offer you my last trust.

Hope... so sweet,
so beautiful, so sad.

Such a frail promise is useless.

Still, we must measure each other.

Such tame hope is useless

such submissive,
such feeble, such humble anger...

Cautious fury... it's useless.

Wise anger... all useless.

You're alone, I'm alone.

We're next of kin.

Loneliness can burn.

Don't love me.

Please don't love me.
Don't love me, don't!

Well, Eric

if it doesn't work out

you always have a vagina here
to take refuge in.

Why shouldn't it work,
you jealous old fart?

Corrientes is a fine place
to start a new life.

I'll teach her French and English.

She'll teach me
how to grow tomatoes and lettuce.

Whatever!

That's what Kennedy meant
by "Alliance for Progress".

But nobody understood.

Come on guys!

Let's not part
like 3 crybabies.

To the bar!

One moment.
You owe two weeks rent.

You have to pay.

I can't wait any longer.

I'll take care of it right away.

Hello.

Who?

He doesn't live here anymore.

No doubt about it-
Christ experienced physical love.

It's curious that

out of this life

grew a religion which,
contrary to its founder

banishes from it's realm
the most basic natural function

and opposes nothing
more fiercely than physical love.

I want to make

a series showing our beloved Christ

loving naturally.

Christ making love?
Yes.

The last piece would be

Christ fucking Death!

Death clutching her scythe

her legs spread,
her eyes open, bulging.

Christ astride her

serene

eyes closed

vanquishing her.

The triumph of Life over Death
through Love... Well?

They won't jail you,
they'll crucify you.

Yes?

Just a sec.

Oli, it's for you.

She called before.
Forgot to tell you.

I came to visit my dad.

Want to see me?

It's free in Buenos Aires.

Don't go.

It's bound to fail,
It's part of your immaturity.

You loathe love
as much as poetry.

What's the worry?

You'll get me in the end anyway.

Dead, you're mine.

Alive, you're someone else's.

I've just found the love of my life.
Can't waste time talking to Death.

Don't wait up, I'll be back late.

After knowing an ethereal woman

what does
an earthly one have to offer?

What difference, living with a cow

or with a woman whose bum
is 3 feet off the ground?

I can no longer conceive of
or even imagine

making love other than flying.

I love you.

Me too.

But I don't need you.

We've flown together.

What else do we need?

A whisky.

What happened?

Did she take you flying
and drop you?

I warned you you'd get hurt.

Better hurt than asleep,
like before.

You enjoy suffering?

Pain may remind you you're alive.

That's what love is

you stupid Death, just that.

How to explain?
If you understood, you'd be alive.

Ana broke my heart

and thus gave it life.

You'd never understand.

My poor Ana...

My beloved Ana...

I could never pay you
for what you did to me...

casting light
on the dark side of my heart.

Why did you choose to stay poor

while leaving me so rich?

Let's go, Mom.

To life!

No offense.

I propose to build a new canal

without dams, without damn-you's

linking your Atlantic gaze

and my Pacific nature.

Let me tell you right away.

I can forgive many things.

But on one thing I'm intransigent.

On no account

will I forgive a man
who cannot fly.

If he can't,
he's wasting his time with me.

Excuse me, may I use the phone?

Subtitles: Edgardo Cozrinsky
and Robert Gray (Kinograph)

Subtitling:
Dber Amsterdam