All language subtitles for Walter Hugo Khouri - O Desejo [1975]

The Desire

A Film By
Walter Hugo Khouri

There's a girl waiting for you.

Who is she?

She didn't want to say.

Tell her I'm coming.

I could have never imagined.

It's incredible.

I was reading your last letter just now.

I'd swear that you'd never come
back again, despite the promises.

I solved everything in three days.

I wasn't hurting anymore.

I realized it was time to get back.

I left everything.

I left Paris on Wednesday night.

I arrived in Rio early in the morning.

Why didn't you call?

I didn't want to.

I was going to call you.

I was going to ask you to get there.

But it was impossible at home.

There was no more damage.

I decided to surprise you.

And I thought it was one of those
women who came here looking for him.

Tired of waiting for him to show up.

Three have already come.

I have great pleasure in saying...

Well, Marcelo died.

That's right.

He's dead.

How long has it been?

Eleven months.

And sixteen days.

Have you gotten used to it?

Yes.

And no.

Excuse me, where do we put the bag?

Put it all in my room.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

By your description,
I imagined a different house.

Better or worse?

I don't know.

It's strange.

Here, everything is in place.

Come.

This is the temple.

This is the tomb.

The eight years we lived here,
it changed six or seven times.

It was a way of changing something.

He got tired of what he was doing.

After he died,
I left almost everything as it was.

And I think it will stay that way.

I like the tomb.

Excuse me.

You can serve.

Are you sure that's all you want?

Yes.

Thank you.

This is Helena.

Mrs. Ana Maria will stay
with us for a few days.

Excuse me.

Beautiful.

What is it?

I'll tell you later.

Aren't you going to eat?

I will.

Almost two years.

Two years of what?

Of my trip.

Of people in Paris,
in Venice, in the mountains.

Incredible. It seems like
it was just the other day.

Tell me about yourself.

Your letters are always so dry, so short.

I never know how you really are.

I'm sorry.

Deep down, this trip didn't solve anything.

It only served to show me that it's no use
leaving here to look for things out there.

It's all the same.

People are the same everywhere.

Now the stock market is over.

And my father is giving me money again.

I hate that.

I'm here again, without a plan.

I don't want to work, I have no money.

I have no motivation.

It's strange to hear you say that.

Yeah, I'm tired, you know.

I'm totally empty.

It's amazing.

A year ago I was full of energy,

fighting for things,

searching, studying, reading,

loving a lot.

Now I'm very, very empty.

I'm not in the mood for anything,

neither to work nor to study.

Politics is over for me too.

It was nothing of that.

I can't even love anymore.

Since when are you like this?

A long time ago.

It was something that came almost suddenly.

Like this.

And we saw each other there.

That's why I decided to go back home.

But I know that this won't help either.

I think you haven't had time to think.

But I'm guessing.

Do you understand?

Sometimes I feel that something
wonderful is about to happen.

And I have the intuition
that I can find it.

A fullness, a total thing, I don't know.

It's almost the same feeling
I had when I was 17.

I woke up in the morning and felt so alive,

exploding,

with the consciousness of being eternal,
of being everything.

Sometimes it seems that
it's coming back again.

It's very close to me. It's a step.

But what I can't do is take
that step and get there.

But most of the time,
it seems that nothing has a solution.

That things will continue this way.

Without emotion, without depth.

Or else, they will simply end.

Disappear.

And then I see a total darkness.

A shadow devouring me.

It's horrible to hear you say that.

Why?

It's so strange.

I've spent years hearing only that.

Sit there.

In the last months before he died,
he hardly left the house.

He was totally focused on
the work he wanted to do.

And for the first time
I thought it was really worth it.

And that the eternal project of the book
would come out of simple conversation.

It was years of attempts. Of everything.

He had an incredible mind.

But he couldn't materialize anything.

There were perpetual plans of great things.

And they ended up like this.

I know.

I understand that.

Not really.

It seemed he would overcome the dispersion.

He didn't care about almost anything.

One day he told me he'd
concentrate his life on that folder.

And get rid of everything
that was superfluous.

I don't think he did.

There are thousands of notes.

And the book's synthesis.

Nothing but a synthesis.

The great will of fullness made
impossible by almost everything.

Mainly by the limitations themselves.

By the attachment to things,

to vanity,

to pleasures,

to money,

to people,

and more than people,

to the possible love of
people for themselves.

The foolish notion that there
will be time for everything.

The useless hope of changing places.

Of meeting exceptional people.

Of traveling.

The anguish of not being
what you wanted to be.

This impotence.

This impossibility of
holding on to a moment.

Time.

The complete experience.

The horrible insufficiency of love.

And at the same time,
the incredible appeal of it.

The wonderful sex.

And soon after, empty and mandatory.

The incredible enchantment of everything,

of things, of people,
of animals, of the world,

of nature, of work.

Work.

Something remains,

there is still something.

Suddenly, it seems nothing,

but it's all the terrible
notion of ephemerality,

the incomprehension of time and space.

And the lack of notion of
the meaning of everything.

Always the will to transcend.

And the strange and
wonderful climates of happiness.

The magic of certain things
that passed but remained.

This charm, this climate.

Which is becoming increasingly difficult

in virtue of the greatest lucidity
of the experience of the outcome

of the anguish and suffocation of
not knowing what one would like to be.

This impotence, this impossibility
to hold on to the moment,

the time, the complete experience,

the great desire for fullness
made impossible by everything,

especially by the very limitations,

by the attachment to things, to vanity,
to pleasures, to money, to people,

and more than people, to the
possible love of people for themselves,

the horrible insufficiency of love,

and at the same time,
it's incredible appeal,

the confusion, the possessiveness,
the useless violence,

the so meagre ends, the wonderful sex,

and soon after,
the void and the obligatory.

The lack of courage to assume,
to decide, to face, to choose.

Mutual destruction, misunderstandings,

small stupid suicides.

Seeing everything ending,

feeling suddenly rooted
in prejudice and concepts,

letting go of the things that could
have been so much and that were there.

And always the inability of
permanent fullness, of being,

always staying on the line,
not taking the step that will get there.

You want to know what I found?

It all seems like you
gave it to me last year.

Or is it your monochord voice?

I didn't ask you anything.

Why do you read this to me?

I thought you were interested in what I do.

Of course I'm interested.

But I still think it's absurd
to stay here for six months.

Six months?

Or more.

You've been here for six months.

Or you keep looking at the rain.

Or you mentally drift away upon
these 'transcendental meditator' areas.

What for?

To come back with a book structure
repeating the same things.

Besides, you know very well that
this will never go beyond a structure.

And look at that.

How stupid you are.

Stupid, but lucid.

Are you angry with what's written?

No, but I could be.

Do you think a woman would like
her husband to write certain things?

I'm trying to be honest.

Sex, empty and mandatory.

Is that what I'm like?

You know it's not.

Empty and mandatory.

So tell me, why do you
run around like crazy,

after every woman that comes your way?

Who forces you to do this?

You're confusing obligation and compulsion.

Stop being stupid.

You're the one being stupid.

I understand you very well.

I just don't understand how
you can still get these women.

At least...

What are you laughing at?

It's a mystery.

Do you want to know something?

The first time I met you
I thought you were...

To tell you the truth, I still don't know.

You see, you can solve
your problems much easier.

Instead of that, you try to write the
deepest book anyone has ever written.

You'll end up getting it again.

You always get off topic when
we talk about certain things.

Stop being a bitch.

I can't wait to get into your neurosis.

You're a boring neurotic.

Boring!

And whose fault is it?

It's not even mine!

Don't you see the absurdity of all this?

Of the life we lead.

It's all so fake.

We have everything and at
the same time we have nothing.

And what we have, we don't deserve.

Have you ever thought that you
haven't worked for three years?

Work, really work.

Before you went to the factory
twice a week to help your brother.

Help.

Then you went there
once per month to get paid.

Now they send you money at home.

Think about it.

You're the third generation
that does nothing.

That lives at the expense of your
great-grandfather's work, who planted...

What did he really plant?

Beetroot, potato?

Grapes.

First-quality wines.

I'm sorry.

Grapes.

You see? A lot of people
are living on the streets.

And all at the expense of your
great-grandfather Carcamano.

He was planting the land in Italy
and then here in the countryside.

I think your grandfather
still worked a little.

But you know very well
what your father was.

A bad old man, drunk, gambler, womanizer.

Only your brother knows
how much money he earns.

That factory is a machine
that works by itself.

You know that very well.

And you?

If we had had that son, Pestinha
would have been free to walk around.

On the same path.

And my family is the same thing.

But instead of grapes, it was coffee.

Fine coffee for export.

But my father spent everything at once.

His and that of others.

That was another nasty one too.

Don't you see it's an indecency?

A class like ours has to disappear.

You're thinking you're doing a special,
superior, transcendental job.

You don't even know if
you have talent or not.

It's 2 o'clock in the morning
and we're here arguing.

You keep reading me these crazy things.

And soon there will be a line
of people waiting for the doctor.

To get a prescription for bronchitis,
rheumatism, heart, cancer.

You don't want me to go and bring them
here for you to take care of them, do you?

I don't know why I'm telling you all this.

I'm worse than you.

I can only think of myself.

Myself only.

I would like to be detached
from certain people.

Like Ana Maria, remember?

The one from the course in Paris.
I told you.

I know. You're tired of talking about her.

I know everything. If she walks by me
on the street, I'll know who she is.

I've never seen anyone so spontaneous,
so without premeditation.

She's never pretending.

She can't lie, she can't deceive.

Unlike us.

It's an open, totally accepting thing.

I don't know how to explain it,
but it's wonderful.

Why are we never like this?

You stay there in this melancholy,
in this discouragement.

And I'm always quiet,
always waiting for something to happen.

And I know you think the same.

The other day I read your papers.

You know I don't like it.

I know, but I needed it.

So I read something, I even memorized it.

It was like this.

One day I understood that nothing,

nothing extraordinary or
really important would happen.

Neither outside nor inside me.

And that something was always missing.

A breakthrough, a revelation.

And the future has come.

What was to be done, has already been done.

And it was that.

The lack of passion.

The acute lack of passion.

Marcelo, I feel so sorry for you.

I feel sorry for you, for me, for us.

We have to keep on living.

It's so hard to live. I don't know why.

I wanted so much for us to be one.

It was always like that.

It always ended like that.

If it was just between us,
everything would be fine.

But he was insatiable.

Sometimes they were the ones who told me.

While I was in Europe
telling you about him...

You have a grudge.

Me? Why?

Because of her.

She wouldn't like it.

Friends from school.

I'm sure she thinks I'm special.

It'll hurt her.

She talks a lot about you.

Laura this, Laura that.

Yeah.

She wanted to be like me.

Did she?

I wanted to, but I can't.

Why?

Because of you.

Me?

You don't realize it,
but you're terribly possessive.

Inhibitor.

Castrative.

You want to take everything
and not give anything.

That's not true.

That's what you think.

Only those who see you
from a distance can see it.

But it doesn't matter.

This is your key.

With it you're even more attractive.

I've been wanting to go
to bed with you for five years.

But I had scruples because of Eleonora.

What a stupid thing, right?
We wasted precious time, didn't we?

I had to travel to be able to decide.

I also wanted a lot of time.

Every time you came here,
I needed to contain myself.

I can tell her.

Tell her what?

It'll be the best of all.

You know.

She'll be shocked, I know.

But she'll pretend she doesn't care.

I can see her face.

Are you afraid I'll tell her?

I don't see the need.

See how you are?

Let me tell her.

She might be happy.

Maybe she'll stay with us.

The three of us.

Have you thought about it?

I like it when you're so angry.

I know that. I know you.

You're a little crazy.

Yes, you're right.

Sometimes I feel like a real drug addict.

An animal.

You're already inciting me by saying that.

For me, so what?

If it depended on me, I'd spend
12 hours a day in bed making love.

And the other 12 hours,
eating, drinking and sleeping.

And dancing, I love dancing.

That's it.

Eating, drinking, sleeping and dancing.

Waiting for death to come.

But isn't that all you do?

If it were before...

Our money wouldn't be enough for that.

Have you ever imagined...

Getting old...

And poor.

Let's stop talking about it.

Come here.

Like that.

The troglodyte.

Come.

Did Nuret write to you?

Twice.

How is she?

She seems fine.

She's struggling to come back.

What is she doing?

A course.

Another one?

For psychology.

It seems she's enjoying it.

She told me she made a
Brazilian friend in the course.

And she's a good person.

Wonderful, brilliant, spontaneous.

What are you laughing at?

Say it.

What?

Do you want me to say it?

Say it.

You won't like it.

I get angry when someone starts
telling a story and then stops.

Okay, then.

I'll say it.

He never forgave me that.

It was horrible to see
him die in front of me.

I don't know how I managed
to get him out of the water.

I thought he was still alive.

But I was paralyzed.

I could only scream.

I don't remember anything.

Just the sensation of the
flesh cooling in my hands.

And screaming.

It was all so fast.

I still don't understand.

He had no breath.

He was very weak.

He was going through
a total physical decline.

His face, his hair, his teeth.

And he was so handsome before.

I told myself that it
was unbearable for him.

You know?

I'm sure he wanted to die.

He had to die.

He was afraid of what was ahead.

He was afraid of the future, the present,

and the past.

Afraid of convincing himself
that the past was nothing.

He wanted to die.

I could feel it in his eyes.

It was almost a request.

I've been back there many times.

To see if I can understand what happened.

How could he die like that, in front of me?

Without me being able to do anything.

In a place where we were so
used to swimming and playing.

The pond is in a farm of a
friend of mine, near our place.

He loved swimming there.

We would play for hours.

It was so good.

I think I just learned what loneliness is.

I don't understand.

He was the person I liked the most in life.

At the same time,
I never had so much hatred for someone.

Blind hatred.

Lately, he's been messing
with something inside me

that woke me up in a real fury.

Now I know he was an incredible person.

Unique, changeable, fleeting.

He was capable of being
wonderful and despicable.

But he never made me indifferent.

Sometimes we loved each other
with a kind of obsession.

With madness.

So he was evil.

He wanted to attack,
he wanted to be unpleasant.

And he was.

At first it scared me.

Then I got used to it.

Then I liked it.

And I started to wait for that ritual.

That game.

And sometimes I was cruel to him.

And he liked it too.

It attracted me a lot.

But I wanted it to be just for me.

I never knew anything about him.

I couldn't give him back his kindness.

I was always in doubt.

I never knew what was
going through his mind.

I didn't know if he really liked me.

I couldn't forgive myself.

It was a hard defeat for me.

He was terrible, difficult, light.

But only he knew how
to be tender and caring.

I was always there.

Ready to be a slave and an animal to him.

I understand you very well.

But for me there was no one wonderful,
repulsive, caring or anything.

One disappointment after another.

After I left Jack, remember him?

I decided to go crazy.

I don't know.

I just know I was so crazy.

I was desperate, I wanted to enjoy freedom.

If I told you I became a promiscuous woman,
you'll think I'm exaggerating.

I think I was out of my mind...
I got into such a wrong mode.

Everything you can imagine, I did.

I did.

And the worst part is that I found out
that this damn education they gave me,

had marked me much deeper than I thought.

I always felt guilty, guilty of sin,
of dirt, of wrongdoing.

A feeling of guilt much greater
than any emotion that I could have.

And after all, there was no emotion.

I was always punishing myself,
punishing myself.

In conclusion, you're looking
at a bourgeois, 25 years old,

free since she was 17,
four years in Europe,

who traveled, studied, lived, experienced.

What's left is the feeling
of always being plagiarized.

Worse, I died of longing for my mother.

Even my father, and my brother,
who is a pain in the ass.

Now I'm already feeling
like an idiot for coming back.

But I couldn't stand staying there anymore.

And I can't stay here either.

And not there, and not anywhere.

I don't know what I want.

You know what I really want?
To keep reading this book.

Let's stop talking and enjoy this, ok?

Tomorrow we'll start over.

Listen to this.

From an English scientific journal.

In 10 billion years, all stars
will be extinguished one by one.

All forms of life will disappear.

The whole universe will freeze.

The temperature will reach
273 degrees Celsius.

Below zero.

The stars will be consumed.

Life will cease.

Now, in the short term, if the
world population grows at a rate of 2%,

that is, less than the current rate,

the following indexes will be
recorded in the next 500 years.

Year 2200, 308 billion.

Year 2400,
16 trillion and 200 billion inhabitants.

In the year 2500,
117 trillion and 300 billion inhabitants.

Are you trying to hear the water?

What water?

This place was made for us to sit and
try to hear the water running on the rocks.

It's a system of tranquillization.
I can never do it.

But Marcelo said that
from time to time he could.

I think I was already hearing.

Let's go get some coffee?

Let's go.

Terrible, isn't it?

Very.

What if we went to the site today?

Can you?

I always can.

Are you going to have breakfast now?

Yes.

As soon as I finish my breakfast,
you help Rosa pack my bag.

The usual. I'm going to the site.

Okay.

Helena, the juice.

Aren't you going to tell me?

What?

The business of the maids.

Wait a minute.

After I came back from Europe,
I went to the south with my mother.

I took the car. I couldn't stay there
for the week, so I came back.

Without telling anyone.

Helena!

Helena!

Helena?

What about you?

Me? What could I do?

Send them away? I thought it was unfair.

After all, their guilt was less.

I don't know.

I felt a certain pleasure.

An accomplice, I don't know,
letting them stay here.

You must think all this is crazy.

But it is.

I like to look at them
and think that they too...

It's a stupid thing.

Perverse. I don't know.

And the other one?

The other one?

The other one looks like Santa,
doesn't she?

He used to talk about her eyes.

Her smile.

Her story is more interesting.

I think it was almost a love affair.

Let's go upstairs.

Ana.

Mr. Augusto, this is my friend Ana Maria.

Good afternoon.

He's taking care of everything by himself.

Now he has no horses,
no animals, no crops, nothing.

Thank you, Mr. Augusto.

Excuse me.

You were expecting another
pretty maid, weren't you?

This house was built piece by piece.

Yeah, I can see that.

Each of us built a different piece.

It was almost a fight
between me and Marcelo.

We attacked each other
through the construction.

With sentences on the wall,
remains of demolition.

You know?

It was endless, like everything between us.

A little house, a little fortress,
a little prison.

Here I had the worst and the best moments.

Excuse me.

Oh, I almost forgot.

Mrs. Nina was here yesterday
and left this note.

She said the horses are at your disposal.

The farm too.

Thank you, Mr. Augusto.

Keep talking.

I've been meaning to tell you something.

What?

When you arrived, I was dreaming of you.

Remember that surgery we saw in Paris?

That the whole class went?

Oh, in that basement? I remember.

I dreamed that same surgeon
was operating your eyes.

Putting huge needles in them.

It was horrible.

I took you there because
you were almost blind.

I wanted to save you.

It was the only chance.

Otherwise you would be blind.

And die.

Then they blindfolded you.

And I had to take care of you.

Guide you, feed you, bathe you.

You depended on me for everything.

It's good to have someone
who takes care of us like that.

Yes, it is.

I've been thinking a lot about
this night before going to bed.

What awaits me isn't very bright.

What can I do from now on?

Thinking well, I can't do anything.

I'm just informed, nothing more.

Profession,
informed about almost everything.

And the rest too. Love, survival.

I don't see anything.

Nothing.

Nothing.

I wonder, I can't see anyone.

The shacks are empty.

There's always people around.

And today, nothing.

No horses, no people.

What happened?

This way we're going by car.

I'm so exhausted...

It's curious, this place calms me down,
despite everything that happened.

At first I thought I would
never be able to return.

Now swimming here calms me down.

What's wrong, do you have a fever?

I told you, I still don't understand.

I only remember him in my arms.

Why did you light the fire?

I'm cold.

Cold? Today?

Cold inside.

You need to get dressed.

Maybe.

Right now.

I'll do so when I want to.

You're a boring, annoying, unpleasant...

It's horrible to live with someone
who doesn't know what he's thinking,

or what he wants, or what he's
feeling. He doesn't know anything.

The only thing I can feel
is the feeling of falling.

Falling.

I don't know where to go.

It's not the time.

Nor is it death.

It's something else...

that I don't know what it is.

Ana.

Things get so confused in my head.

I think I lied to you about him.

When he wanted, he could be anything.

I don't want to accept that,
but the truth is...

he dominated me in my flesh.

To the point where I couldn't resist.

I never wanted to admit it.

I didn't want to admit
it was an integration.

But it was.

Deep, sensual.

An integration in the flesh.

He was exactly like a man has to be.

At least in love.

A man has to exhaust us.

He has to give us endless pleasure.

And we let go.

It's a domain, a mission.

But it's good.

It's everything.

He was like that.

You can't imagine the days we were fine.

It was a crazy pleasure.

Why is everything so competitive?

I always wanted to be
with someone totally.

And there's always shock,
rivalry, destruction.

Always hurting each other.

Ana, I need to be loved,
loved with despair.

But I think I'm the one who
doesn't know how to love.

I'm worse than him.

And I end up hating the one who loves me.

Good night, Ana.

Good night.

Good morning.

Good morning.

What is it?

I had an incredible dream.

With your husband.

You talked so much about him yesterday...

Tell me.

It was a different world.

In my dream, I was married to him.

And all that you said, that integration...

That thing of getting away,
of getting away from me...

In short, you were making love to him.

Yeah, that's what it was like.

It was strange.

So strong.

You don't care.

Why?

You don't care!

Do I always have to lose everything?
I'm tired of losing!

I only told you a dream.

Can't you see you're taking
away the only things I have?

What's this? Are you going crazy?

You're taking him away from me,
now you're running away from me.

What? It's not possible.

It is possible!

I always lose everything. I'm losing him,
I'm losing you, always losing!

I never have anything that interests me.

There's never anything left for me.
Nothing! Nothing for me!

And now you're doing this to me!

Stop being ridiculous!
I only told you a dream.

You haven't stopped talking about
your husband since I got here.

But not for this!

This what?

This! This!

Get out of here, you're crazy!

No!

No, please.

I'm begging you, don't go.

Forgive me, Ana.

I don't know what happened to me.

I have nightmares, I'm not feeling well.

Please, forgive me.

I swear it won't happen again,
I'll get better.

How about we go for a walk?

Ride a horse?

Or swim? I'm sure it'll calm me down.

If you want, we can go.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Your new horse,
you looked for it yesterday, right?

Yes.

I can prepare two for you.

No, we don't need them.
We're not riding today.

We're going to the studio. Thank you.

No!

Stop!

No!

Stop!

No!

Subtitles by xrt,
February 2024