All language subtitles for Celestial Consequences English Full Movie

Excuse me.

Yes? Can you give me the address of the
Imperial Hotel?

What? Hotel Imperial. Where is it?

What's this, then? Do you like this
place?

It's there.

You never get in, you know.

You're wasting your time.

It's all booked up. Booked up with
people coming to the film festival.

Mr. Valentine, what did you discuss in
your private audience with the Pope?

We discussed new romances, prospective
divorces, and all the latest gossip from

Hollywood. For 40 minutes?

Well, I pressed for more spiritual
issues, but the Holy Father wouldn't

it.

Mr. Valentine, what is your view on
fame?

It doesn't mean as much to me as you
might think, and it can have its

side.

For instance...

Last year in the theatre, when we were
doing Othello, the moment I walked on

stage, the audience began to applaud and
cheer, and I hadn't even opened my

mouth.

Clearly, the audience couldn't possibly
be applauding my performance as Othello,

as I couldn't begin playing him because
of all the noise.

So they were applauding me as a famous
person.

Valentin was getting all the applause
while this poor chap Othello was

there hoping that they would shut up.

Which acting style do you prefer?

I can do without actors who mumble and
mutter and stumble around as if they'd

been chewing tranquilizers for years.
The moment they see a camera, they seem

be trying to creep under the carpet. But
you have to despise the camera. It's

just a chunk of glass and metal. You
have to control the frame to dominate

space.

Or even the other way around. You have
to control the space and dominate the

frame.

What do you think of British cinema?

Oh, that would be a very good idea.

I can give you the address of Mr.
Valentin's fan club. I'm not talking

mail here. Believe me. Look, if it's
business, you discuss it with me, or

leave a message and I'll pass it along.
No, it's a personal matter. I have to

speak to him directly. Why don't you
write him a letter? No, I've written to

ten times already. I've never had a
reply. Will you please call him now? He

not here at the moment.

All right, I'll wait.

When's he coming back?

You can't see him. He's got appointments
all day, and he's leaving first thing

tomorrow. It's impossible.

Mr. Valentine!

Wait!

Please! I have to talk to you!

I have to talk to you!

There's some mail for you. Would you
like anything else?

No, thank you, Walter.

Stand by.

You on that light.

As soon as they come out of the car, you
have to follow them.

Understood? All right, all right. Keep
your vest on, Garth.

Camera 5, on the man.

Get the light on that man immediately.

Move to follow, Spock.

Yeah, right, look, we've got him. Camera
3, camera 5, close.

Welcome, Mr. Valentine. We have been
expecting you.

You will be given a very beautiful suite
on the second floor, one of the best we

have.

We are most happy to have you here.

Would you sign here, please?

Is there something I can do for you
straight away?

Yes. I want to change my clothes. You
will find everything you need. We have

thought of all that.

I wish you a pleasant stay.

Excuse me.

Could you tell me what year it is?

1966.

1966?

Already?

Your name, please?

Norman Elliot Tregorin.

You don't seem to be registered here.
What did you do before?

I killed Caesar Valentine.

Oh, that's who you are.

But you're here under Smith, Brian
Smith, is that correct?

Yes, that's my real name. The other is
my pen name. Right, Brian Smith.

Otherwise known as Norman Elliot
Tregorin?

Your key.

Yes, beautiful indeed.

Yes,

lovely indeed.

Beautiful, yes, beautiful.

Oh, fantastic, this fabric.

Mr. Smith, I have fresh towels for you.

Could you just leave them in my room?
It's open.

Who's the asshole who keeps stealing the
fucking shark?

Look what's left here.

Baldessari, my dear.

Even the most perverted characters in my
novels never use such language.

Fuck you and your fucking novels.

It really is pointless for you to
complain about this.

And it is absolutely irrelevant that you
cannot work in a small room.

You should be glad that you have a room
at all.

You have ten seconds to evacuate this
place.

Hold on, please.

It's a very unusual place here, is it
not?

But you'll get used to it, as we all
have.

By the way, my name is Frisch.

Erika Frisch.

Dr. Frisch.

The Dr.

Erika Frisch.

That's why you look so familiar.

Whose child is that?

That is the Lindbergh child.

The Lindbergh child, said Dr. Frisch
blithely, is a brutally murdered baby

ambled happily before Smith's
unbelieving eyes. Are you a writer?

I tried my hand at a lot of things.

Some poetry, you know, short stories,
other things.

They published some of it, but the old
stuff, you know, not the good things.

It's hard to break through.

But you must be famous now.

Otherwise you wouldn't be here.

As a matter of fact, the fame you enjoy
on Earth at this moment is the only

thing which gives you the privilege of
being on this island.

Every now and then there's a selection,
and if you have been forgotten on Earth,

off you go into the midst of oblivion,
just like all the others who live and

anonymously. So where are we? What is
this place exactly?

I wish I could tell you.

A waiting room?

A purgatory, perhaps?

You might even call it hell.

Since so many of us are more afraid of
oblivion than of death.

And the old chaps, where are they?

Sorry? The Shakespeare's, the Galileo's
and the Mozart's, where are they? That's

a good question. But logic doesn't apply
in this place.

Nobody seems to stay here forever.

And who says this is the only island and
the only hotel around here?

But how can I believe I'm dead?

I'm tangible.

I'm not alone. I can hear your voice.

But yes, you are dead.

We're all dead. This reality is an
illusion.

And that's Lassie, I suppose.

Yes, the famous movie dog.

And she's dead, too.

So, what did you do to become famous,
Mr. Smith?

I killed one of the greatest actors of
our time.

Waiter!

Waiter!

Yes, sir? What is this noise?

That's the rock stars having their jam
session, sir.

Well, it's rubbish and it's loud. Tell
them to shut up.

All our guests are free to do as they
please, Mr. Valentine, as long as they

here.

All right, I'm going to my room, and I
expect you to have a bottle of scotch

a bucket of ice waiting for me when I
get there.

Certainly, sir.

Hemingway? Oh, yes, he's here, too.

But do go on. I can't believe I have a
chance to talk to him. Well, your

here may not be any greater than they
were on Earth.

If you see that chap, Smith, will you
please tell him that I want a word with

him?

Of course, Mr. Valentine.

What time is it?

This sundial drives me nuts.

Look at this crazy shadow.

It never moves.

You never know whether it's day or night
or how long things will take.

So how can you make a fucking date in
this dump?

Bianca! I was waiting for you.

Bianca, I know where you are.

I've got a better heart.

Help me, bitch!

I'm sorry.

Who are you?

No one special.

Really?

Well, Mr. No One Special, why did you
kill me?

I don't know.

You don't know?

You don't know why you killed me.

I don't think I like having been killed
for no reason, and so you will think of

one.

Now.

Got you!

It must be Mr. Valentine.

I so enjoy those stories they used to
tell about you.

I particularly like the one about the
young actress who bit you so violently

during a tender kiss that your lip began
to bleed.

When asked why she did it, she declared,
I did it because Mr. Valentine

deliberately made me feel his sexual
excitement in order that I should forget

lines in front of the camera.

Is that true?

Have we met?

My name is Merrick.

Horace T. Merrick. No doubt you have
heard of me.

Horace T. Merrick?

Oh, yes.

The Nobel Prize for Literature. Aren't
you the man who didn't get it?

On the contrary, I'm the man who turned
it down.

It was my way of protesting against a
jury report which totally ignored one of

my most brilliant contributions to world
literature.

Sexually the most liberating book of the
century.

The eve of gravitation.

The

eve

of gravitation.

That's it.

The story of a young man waiting for a
telephone call from his mother or his

lover, or who was it?

His brother, who was his lover.

That's right.

The phone call didn't come. The young
man fell asleep on the sofa. When he

up, there was still no phone call. And
you squeezed all that into 400 pages.

Amazing.

The simplicity of the actor's mind is
fascinating.

He would make a novel.

A very short novel.

What would that be? Only 200 pages.

You do this to me.

You don't even give me notice.

I'm not going. I'm not going. I am not
going.

I'm going to go play. Watch out.

Scratching my painting.

Watch out.

I know who you're looking for.

They won't get away with it. He's played
us.

I know now.

Excuse me.

I think you've lost this.

Oh, it's beautiful.

But it's not mine.

Well, I found it in the labyrinth just
after we bumped into each other.

Well, it must be somebody else's.

When someone is offering you a nearing
on the staircase, what does that mean?

Pardon?

In dreams.

Sheer happiness?

I see.

You think it's silly to talk about
dreams.

Well, no, I don't, but this isn't a
dream, is it?

Thank you.

Anyway...

What happened to you?

They shifted me to the attic like a
piece of old furniture.

Then your fame on earth must be fading
quite rapidly, I'm afraid.

That's impossible.

My paintings are as beautiful as ever.

Yes, but you know, the public always
wants something new.

Not in my case.

It is immoral.

I tell you what it is.

They try to destroy my name, my art.

Who's trying to destroy you?

I can't tell you their full names, but
I'm sure that Salvador and Pablo are

among them.

Mm -hmm.

I see.

Isn't it a seduction scene when I were
to say something dreadfully corny, such

as... This music does something to me.
How would you respond?

Do you like it?

That would be a very good response.

Yes or no?

What? This song.

Do you like it? This music really does
do something to me.

You're an actor.

Uh -huh. And you?

That was me you've just heard on that
recording.

You have a lovely voice.

Thank you.

You like playing games?

Certainly. What game have you in mind?

Chasing game.

What are the rules?

You start and I chase you.

You chase me?

Yes. Run.

Run?

Yes.

You can't be serious.

Go.

Run.

Mr. Zlatogorski, we're pleased to inform
you there's been a sudden revival in

the public interest in your work on
earth.

Not only in Russia.

The poems are translated and published
all over the world.

We have the honor of moving you to a
luxurious suite on the second floor.

You'd hurt my courage, you just tell me
this nonsense.

Don't you see I'm working?

Don't leave me alone. But your
widespread public success make it

move you upstairs.

I don't care.

I will stay where I am.

Don't you touch that!

Or I'll break your bones!

I'm the Russian Pole.

Listen, you idiots.

Stalin's changed the revolution!

The art. The human feelings.

Millions of questions.

But I could always define him.

I'm afraid of you.

Come on.

Let's talk about something.

Yes.

How

did

you die, my dear?

I died of a broken heart.

Always the same story with men.

They use you.

They lie to you.

They beg you to stay.

Then they leave you for another.

They should die of a broken heart.

It wasn't a man.

What about you?

I was executed.

Ah, how awful.

Why did they do such a dreadful thing?

I strangled 23 women.

Here we go again.

Can they come up with something new?

I told you something like this would
happen, but you wouldn't listen.

Me? Yeah. It was his fault.

Yes.

They shouldn't drive through the roses.

Who cares about the roses?

What about my dress?

Shut up. Who cares about your fucking
dress?

I'm dying to see some action.

German bastards.

What are you doing?

I lost my earring. What?

My earring.

You don't mean the dolphin?

Yeah. How do you know?

You found it.

Thank you.

Wait.

Let's sit down.

Please.

What's your name?

Smith.

Brian Smith.

We met on the staircase.

On the staircase?

But which staircase?

Look, I saw you at the labyrinth. We
bumped into each other. Perhaps you

remember.

I found the earring there.

And I saw you on the stairs and you told
me it wasn't yours.

After that, I started to look for you.

Because of the earring?

Because of you.

No, please stay.

No, I must go.

Let's meet at the greenhouse.

Well, that's not easy. How can I know
when you'll be there when there isn't a

single clock in this place?

Well, come when you hear that old man
shooting.

Looking for a boat?

Don't think you'll find one.

Why are you avoiding me? Are you afraid
of me?

Should I be?

Listen.

Maybe it was a good idea to murder me at
the height of my career, and so spare

me the misery of slowly sliding down the
hill. Thank you. I really am terribly

grateful. But tell me, my dear chap, why
did you do it?

All right.

Let's say you want to become famous.

You do your best. It doesn't work out.
So suppose it occurs to you that there's

a better, quicker way to do it. You kill
someone famous.

Immediately the publicity starts to work
for you. You instantly get a share of

your victim's fame and your own name is
connected with the name of that

celebrity forever.

Of course, you've got to have the gut to
do it.

Splendid example of positive thinking.
And immediately after murdering me, you

get killed yourself. Was that part of
your master plan?

I didn't plan anything. Didn't you just
say that you murdered me in order to

become famous?

No. All I said was that someone might
get such an idea, remember? I said

suppose.

You know, there's another very
interesting type of murder. There is?

A murder for absolutely no reason at
all.

A murder for which you get nothing in
return except possibly the thrill.

Or the feeling you exist.

I must go.

Bianca? Mr. Smith!

I hope you don't mind my being frank
with you, Mr. Smith, but I feel you are

wasting your time with, shall we say,
second -class personalities.

It's a pity.

I think it's time we meet the right
people.

I know someone who could answer any
questions you might have.

Well, I don't know.

Trust me.

Now, let us proceed a little further.

We're going to discuss the notion of
experience.

Any suggestions?

I'm going through a really bad
experience right now.

It seems that they don't play my
compositions anymore on Earth.

In fact, I'm being threatened by
complete oblivion. Oh, God, it's an

experience. Sir, what is your question?

Well, my question is, could you get in
touch with a medium back on Earth?

I mean, so that I can transmit the work
I write here. You know, my music, back

to a living audience.

What kind of music is it?

Oh, it's contemporary music.

That will take a private session. Come
back later.

When?

Later.

This is bullshit. No more.

You can go now.

Enjoy yourselves.

Brian?

You're nothing.

I knew it from the beginning.

Just an ordinary earth.

Something I want to show you.

I don't want to disturb you. I just want
to ask you one question.

Oh, that's all right.

I just finished working. I can think a
lot better in the bathtub.

Lucy Down, you know what I miss most in
this place are my mice and rats.

Sometimes they teach you more about
human behavior than people themselves.

Would you care for a really good cigar?

No, thank you.

And you, Mr. Smith, how are you finding
this place?

Still fascinated by all these famous
people?

Dr. Frisch, do you believe there is love
after death?

What do you mean, precisely?

I mean the love of a man for a woman.

Here in this place?

Impossible. The only states of mind I
have observed here are jealousy, vanity,

and boredom.

Are you sure?

Positively.

That's funny.

What?

It doesn't matter.

It would be nice if we could have a more
extensive conversation some other time.

It could be interesting.

For both of us.

Yes, it could.

Thank you.

Love?

In a place like this?

Interesting.

I didn't plan anything.

Remember, I said suppose.

Excuse me, Dr. Frisch. Mr.

Valentin, won't you join us? No, thank
you. Please, I must have a word with

Certainly, Mr. Valentin.

You know, the psychology of dance in
different cultures has always fascinated

me. Did you know that in some... Dr.
Frisch, forgive me interrupting you.

Smith. He won't tell me why he did it.
He's playing games with me.

With me!

He tells me one thing and then promptly
tells me something completely different.

What is the crazy little parasite up to?

He's deranged. I'm telling you,
absolutely deranged.

You mean a syndrome of sensory limbic
hyperconnection? No, I mean he's fucking

mad.

But surely you could deal with him.

You're an expert in this field. You're
an authority. You must be interested in

case like his.

Of course I am, Mr. Valentin.

But I'm not sure if I can help you.

Perhaps if you would treat him as your
equal?

Smith?

They dance like no one ever danced
before.

Just the two of us.

No, not at all.

I thought Mr.

Valentin was in. I think he must have
lost it.

I was wondering if you care for a drop
or something.

Huh?

It's good stuff.

And on the house.

Come in.

Thank you.

Nice room you have.

Cheers.

Pretty strange place we ended up in, Mr.
Smith.

Well, I imagine it's a lot stranger for
you than it is for me. Oh?

Why's that?

Well, it must be hard for you here
without all your fans, the attention,

applause, all those things you took for
granted.

I took nothing for granted. It took
damned hard work to earn it.

When I arrived in New York from Europe
in 1930, all I had was a piece of paper

with the address of Howard Nilsson on
it.

I went to his office to ask for an
audition. They told me to come back

and they kept telling me to come back
tomorrow for six months.

It was November in the middle of the
Depression.

I took a shabby room at the Breslau
Hotel, which left me with no money to

any food.

It was a terribly cold winter.

I had a small paraffin heater giving out
enough warmth to soothe the tips of my

fingers.

I turned up every day asking for an
audition until eventually I was given

and I got the part.

It's interesting. I thought the, um...
What?

It doesn't matter.

What?

Well, first of all, the Brethlaw Hotel
was built with central heating. But

that's beside the point, because you
arrived in New York in July, which was

hottest summer on record, and you got
your first part six weeks later.

So what's all this about a paraffin
heater?

Are you sure?

How do you know all this?

I'll be back.

Oh, excuse me. Auntie Dr. Frisch has
been moved to another room. Can you tell

where I can find her?

Pardon? Dr. Frisch.

Can you give me her new number, please?

We don't have anyone of that name here.

Oh, come on. You know Dr. Frisch.
Everybody knows Dr. Frisch.

I know all the guests who are staying in
our hotel perfectly well.

I never heard that name before.

I'm sorry.

Oh, fuck you!

Our director wanted us actors to be more
muscular, and so we went to a gym. I

watched my chums lifting these bloody
great heavy weights, and I thought, oh,

God, that's not for me. Cesar, can't you
ever stop talking about yourself?

What about my past?

I had four new dreams, and they're very
important to me. Oh, well, tell me all

about them, lovey.

There was a sheep under the sea rose.

A beggar treats out his thumb for money
and... Extraordinary! I played a beggar

once.

A blind beggar.

A villainous blind beggar.

Of course, I overacted dreadfully.

I was miserable. I thought I'd never
work again. I went home.

It was the middle of the Depression and
a bitterly cold day. I had a small

paraffin heater giving off enough warmth
to soothe the tips of my fingers, and

suddenly the telephone rang. It was
Howard Newton.

Depend from heaven, boy, and join us.
What's your address? I thought, oh, God,

can't tell him I'm living in this dump.
It was a frightful place called... The

Bresla Hotel.

How do you know?

Who told you?

No one.

I read it.

It's all in here.

Where'd you get this?

A waiter brought it to your room.

Norman Elliot Treat -Goring.

Where are you going?

Brian Smith.

Also known as Norman Elliot Trigorin.

Trigorin! Norman Elliot!

A woman, Elliot Trigorin.

A pen named Go, that's a loo -loo.

All right, Norman Elliot Trigorin, I did
use some parts of your manuscript. Some

parts? I debated for my book.

It would have been more courteous of me
to have mentioned your name in the

introduction. No, no, you stole my
manuscript, all of it.

And what's more, you ruined it with your
amateur scribbling and your pathetic

lies. Is that a reason for killing
someone? I'm a reasonable man. I believe

conversation. You've got to talk to me.
Talk? Talk's all right. Who else have

you talked to besides Bianca? I haven't
talked to Bianca. Then what on earth is

she doing with the book?

Oh, you must feel immensely important
babbling about this to everybody.

Well, that's not a bad idea. Perhaps
I'll go and write an epilogue.

What are you doing?

Get out of your mind.

Mr. Togorin swore that you won't tell
anybody. Never.

You're trying to kill me? I'm dead
already, remember?

Maybe, but the fall could still be quite
painful, don't you think?

You think anyone would care if I told
them anyway?

They don't give a damn. They don't give
a flying fuck about these are Valentin

or anyone else. You bloody well know
that.

Valentin.

You know what I like particularly about
your Anthony and Julius Caesar?

What?

The way you... Yeah?

I'm fully... Wait!

You were talking of the film.

What?

Julius Caesar.

Julius Caesar.

You know, I think that's the only film
with you I've never seen.

And I told Dr. Frisch you really are a
twifty little bastard.

Frisch is gone.

What?

Seems they've never had anybody
registered under that name I see

Charming little spot

Wait. You can look really mean. Did you
know that?

Is this what you wanted to tell me?

I've been looking for you.

Oh, you've been looking for me?

I have to speak to you.

Well, go ahead.

No, not here.

Will you come to the labyrinth?

Look, why the labyrinth? Why not the
bar?

Because in the labyrinth, I feel safe.

They don't know the way.

Well, that's what I mean. I'll get lost
in there.

No, I know the way. It's easy.

Let me go first.

Don't follow me right away.

I will be there at the fountain.

Oh, shit.

Bianca, are you there?

Yeah.

Well, how do I get to the fountain?

You can't get here from where you are
now.

Is there just the one hedge between us?

I think so.

Right.

I'm coming in.

That's not the way to get to the heart
of the labyrinth.

Oh, I'm sorry. Shall I go back to the
beginning again? No, no, wait.

I have to warn you.

You wanted to warn me?

About what?

About me.

What's so dangerous about you?

I don't remember anything about my life
before I came here.

Except that I was a singer, for they
tell me.

I have no memory about my past.

That's why I'm here, in this clinic.

Clinic? Yes, I suffer from total
amnesia.

What's your problem?

My problem? What do you mean?

All right, you don't have to tell me.

When I see all the other patients around
here, I think I am a lucky one.

But watch out for the doctor and the
medical staff.

They are evil.

There aren't any doctors here, Bianca.

Didn't you know?

The waiters, they are doctors in
disguise.

Haven't you noticed how they observe us
all the time?

They even tried to make me believe I was
dead.

And you didn't believe them?

No. No, of course not. But nonetheless.

Oh, you found it. Wonderful.

What

the

hell are you doing here, my Roman? Who
are you?

You should address your questions to the
desk, Mr. Valentine.

And this is your new key.

There's been a bloody mistake made, and
I want you to put it right at once. Can

you not see that I'm busy?

Listen, you toad!

You will shortly be busy removing broken
teeth from the back of your throat.

If you cannot find your new room, these
gentlemen will be glad to help you.

If you're worried about your privacy,
then don't be, for this arrangement will

be only for one night.

Shut up!

The place is obviously run by
incompetence who've made an intolerable

Intolerable!

By tomorrow, I shall have an appropriate
sweet, so don't worry.

Do you find this terribly funny?

No.

No, absolutely not.

This reminds me of someone.

Oh, yes.

Yes.

There was someone.

Oh, please.

Don't stop.

Please. Don't stop.

Don't stop.

This reminds me of someone.

What do you think?

It doesn't make any sense to me. Your
dreams are too strange.

But my dreams are the only clue to my
past.

I don't know.

You're not interested in me.

But I am.

All right, let's start again with facts.

Okay?

Now, how did you get here?

On a boat.

How else?

Yeah, I know, but before that, what
happened before that?

What is the very last thing you remember
before you died?

So you believe it, too?

You really don't know or you just don't
want to know? Which is it? You're sick!

Bianca, please listen!

I have to finish my sonata before the
ceremony. It's my last chance. What

ceremony?

What's the matter?

My life in the limelight.

And beyond the light, squalor.

Faces, all those faces count.

False smiles, envious eyes,

poisoned kisses, honey -tongued voices,
flattery, gossip, deadly wit,

little lies, big lies, betrayal,
unfulfilled promises,

flaws, praise, adoration.

I thought it was love.

May I tell you something?

I miss it.

I really, really miss it.

All of it. Incredible.

Come along, my dear. It's time.

I'm not going.

Oh, you have to.

We all must.

What's wrong?

You're not afraid, are you?

Me? Afraid?

We'll be all right.

We'll see.

Do you think they're overdressed?

Ladies and gentlemen, it's always a
pleasure to get together, see old

and make new acquaintances, though some
of these friendships might be of a very

short duration.

To those of you who are soon going to
leave us, have a good journey, and I

like to advise the good swimmers among
you not to swim against the tide.

To those of you who are going to stay
with us, thanks to their lasting

reputations, in the hearts and minds of
so many living on the earth, I would

like to remind them, as time goes on, so
does the process of forgetting.

At the end of all time, oblivion will
catch up with all of you.

He's a bald comedian, don't you think?

So now may I kindly request you to form
a queue and to follow the staff onto the

stage when ordered.

Thank you.

A jour en plus, un jour en moins, un
jour je viens et l

'amour partira de nous.

You were the wife of the great composer
Gruberman.

You were the lover of both the poet Jean
-Francois Rouleau and of the ballet

dancer Blagol Leyev at the same time.

You were a favorite model of both
Maconet and Ortola.

And during the last two decades of your
life, you were the inseparable and

faithful companion of the young
archaeologist Jarvi... Jarvi...

Jarvi... Jarvi... Jarvi...

who excavated the ruins of the temple of
Rainapur.

To all these great men, you were a
source of unlimited inspiration, and we

pleased to have you here.

Where have you been?

Trying to avoid my performance.

Your first paintings attracted the
attention of the eminent art critic,

Matarov. After the break with a group of
six, your star rose even faster.

Shortly before your untimely death, the
prices paid for your paintings reached a

level unheard of at that time.

But not for long.

Only seven years after your death, a New
York art dealer who specialized in your

canvases... could not sell a single
piece and went bankrupt.

Rosenfeld. Marcus. There is not one
single reference to you in the

of modern art.

And that is the limit.

Oh, no. No, no.

Leave the stage, please.

No. No.

No.

Ladies and gentlemen, good evening.

Most reassuring not having to introduce
myself.

Tonight I have the great pleasure of
disclosing to you the immediate future

one of the more outstanding people in
our midst.

Mr. Valentin, would you kindly adhere to
the text on the card?

When you died, Mr. Sergei Antonovich
Slotogorsky, only a few people stood at

your graveside, a shallow trench dug
into the frozen soil of the Ural

Soon the power of your words burst open
the coffin.

Now your poetry gallops through the
world, merciless and true, and the world

kisses your poetry's toil -hardened
hand.

The Bucky, you monstrous hypocrites!

You creeps who suffocated all the homes
of the century!

You enemies of love and humanity!

I spit on you!

I would rather be swallowed by the cold
mist than remain in this

rotten place any longer.

Deep breath, nice clear voice.

A few centuries ago, the life of an
actor didn't mean more than the life of

stray dog.

How much has changed since then?

The world we now know adores its actors,
but for one who wants to become a good

actor, discipline, sensitivity,
intelligence, and good looks are not

In order to be a really great actor, you
have to be born one.

But it does not necessarily follow that
an excellent actor is also a famous one.

In order to be a star, you need an
audience of millions.

Mr. Valentine was such a star.

I'm not going to read this.

As we all know, Mr. Valentin was such a
star.

But as time has passed, there's no
longer any audience that wants to see

picture starring Mr. Valentin.

Hardly anyone remembers him and his
films.

Ladies and gentlemen, there is no
audience and no fame whatsoever for the

celebrated Mr. Valentin. Therefore, I'm
very sorry to have to say goodbye, Mr.

Valentin.

Isn't it remarkable how good a minor
actor can be when he's not playing a

in anything?

Did you say something?

Not really.

I thought as much.

Well, Mr. Smith, since your fame is tied
up as that of Mr. Valentine, you know

what that means for you.

Leave me alone, would you?

You. You failed to transmit my music
back to the living.

You charlatan.

Charlatan!

Now, ladies and gentlemen, the final
event of the ceremony, the lottery.

Each time the prize of the winning
number is unknown to us, and each prize

different from all the previous ones.

And as the veterans will have witnessed
before, the prize is not always a good

one. In fact, it can be quite
disastrous.

Now, spin the wheel.

Number 104.

Number 104, please step forward.

What's your number?

Haven't you got your number?

104, 104. He's got it. It's here.

Here's your number.

Show your number.

Ladies and gentlemen, the holder of the
winning number 104 will leave this place

and return to Earth to live again.

There is more, Mr. Smith.

In addition, you have the right to take
with you one person of your own choice.

You may think about your choice as long
as the sand is running.

Please take me. My work on Earth is not
finished yet.

The band is running. Do make up your
mind.

Brian, I shall give you love.

I'll make you happy.

Now we can find out about your past.
Let's go.

I'm staying.

I'm not going to let you do this,
Bianca.

The time is running out, for Christ's
sake. Don't you understand?

It's another drug of the daughter. Don't
go, please.

It's time, Mr.

Smith. Yes, I know.

I want you with me.

Don't believe them. Don't believe them.

I take two pardons. Not permitted. Make
your choice. Did I say two? Out of the

question. Make your choice now.

That's a ridiculous idea, you know, my
being forgotten on Earth.

Ridiculous.

Ryan, would you go and get me a pair of
dark glasses?

Go and get them yourself.

I'd rather not.

I don't want to be recognized
immediately.

Excuse me, do you know this song?

What? This song, do you know it?

She died a long time ago.

What's the name again?

Bianca.

Ah, yeah, Bianca.

Do you remember how she died?

Well, there's something about a car
crash.

Sorry, I really don't remember.

Forgotten on this earth, eh?

Look.

A Cesar Valentin retrospective.

Forgotten my foot.

Sure be here. You come for the valentine
retrospective? Yes.

Pity these are gracious dross.

I'm so.

What weep you when you but behold our
Caesar's vesture wooded.

Look you here.

Here is himself.

Will you be showing this film again?

Never. That was the last copy.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

This is for you.

Don't you want to keep it? No.

No, I know it by heart.

I'm sorry.

What I did was awful.

It's a good book. You're a writer.

Would you sign it for me?

Trigurino Smith.

Give me Smith.

What?

What?