Original subtitles

Here is an engraving that I long sought for my collection.

This isle suddenly emerged from the seas in 1812.

The English yielded to a conquest impulse, and planted their flag there.

They were unaware of the malignity of these isles.

A few weeks later, the Santa Isabel disappeared back into the waters.

One would suspect the archipelago was doomed to the same fate.

These islands might seem fleeting and shifting,

but, once you set foot on them,

they reveal themselves to be invariable, frozen, welded,

as if frozen in the grip of death.

Back then, when I maintained this logbook,

I was too close to what I wrote to truly grasp it.

And now,

I am no longer certain that any of this happened.

When I recall my wanderings in those enchanted isles,

the power of my imagination is such...

that I ask myself, in regards of this archipelago,

If I was not the victim of a hallucination.

The Enchanted Isles Based on a novella by Herman Melville.

Behold the Enchanted Isles.

Sailors on the Gazelle, all men on deck!

Furl sails!

Sailors to their posts, to the mast!

Sailors of the topmast!

Sailors! To your posts!

Everyone to their post!

My name is Manoel de Abrantes.

I am Portuguese.

How strange to recall myself as a young officer on this boat.

Oh, youth and the sea.

It was during this voyage that I learned it all.

What I recall most vividly is not the picturesque facts,

but those that taught me how to observe, and feel.

I remember stopping by an island that used to be an infamous pirate spot.

How strange to find such a graceful seat in such a place.

It must have been the work of pirates,

built with purely peaceful intentions.

And yet, one can't forget they were bloodthirsty brutes.

My friend, the world never ceases to amaze me.

In my travels, how many times

have I studied it, like a chemist in his lab,

to deduce its forms and substances?

An acquaintance used to tell me I had a curious occupation.

I still marvel at the connections between things.

Take those pirates.

One day, they're pirates. The next, they're poets and philosophers,

and builders of stone seats.

Their double nature is in the image of the isles they visited.

A site of desolation,

as well as a harbor of rest.

For many weeks,

driven by our sense for adventure and scientific quest,

we sailed by those desolate shores.

Some of the passengers derisively referred to them as enchanted.

What I admire most about those isles is their nudity.

One thing is certain: That is all the work of the devil.

DOMAIN OF TURTLES

Driven by whimsy, and by a desire to explore such a strange place,

a boat was sent ashore to explore the land,

and to bring back as many turtles as possible.

They are blacker than coal!

Who knows what they are?

How could one even imagine them to be part of creation?

Things like these turtles make you nervous...

Or is it I who scares you?

Don't tell me that you think these sailors will disobey me.

Hell, I'm not completely evil...

I'm just like the turtles...

of this archipelago.

GREEN ISLE

A long time passed, and I still thought of the turtles,

and their monstrous appearance.

They seemed to me like victims of a malediction.

For what creatures, unless coerced,

would choose to live in a place that has long been established...

as a sight of death, and of desolation?

We sailed for three long months among those isles.

Things gradually took on a fantastical aura.

That isle lives on in my soul, as a land both cursed and noble.

In 1826, I was a witness...

to a strange affair.

Here, in 1826, a lieutenant died in a duel, at dawn, at the age of 21.

Black Cape Island.

Paralyzed by the absence of wind,

how could we avoid feeling the oppressive weight of the air?

We were all haunted by a cruel memory.

Don't abandon me here!

Kill me if you want, but don't let me die like this!

Come back here!

Have pity! Throw me to the sharks!

You are scared, cowards!

You are rubbish! Wretches!

Do anything you want to me, but don't leave me here!

Don't leave me!

Companions! Companions!

Stay there, my brother, you still have a chance!

Be brave!

Mateus, you are my friend, don't leave me!

I can't do anything to help you! Wait!

To suffer worse than death?

I'd rather die at once!

No, brother! Don't do that!

SAVAGE ISLE

As we went further along those isles, the stories became more implausible.

I resisted believing them.

Little did I know that I was about to live through such a story...

that others would disbelieve.

On September 15th, 1830,

convinced that the isles no longer held any more discoveries in store,

we made a discovery.

Look, Lieutenant!

It's just a bird, a bird with white feathers...

It looks like... like... a handkerchief.

Yes, a handkerchief.

Halt the ship.

Look, Captain.

Drop anchor.

Lower the rowboat.

Please follow me. The captain is waiting.

There was something strangely haughty in her expression,

as if a proud essence was subjugating a tortured essence.

Please have a seat.

We're all anxious to know the story...

of how it was that you've come to this island.

At least tell us your name.

I can't tell you much.

I had a husband and a brother.

My name is Hunilla.

She told us her story.

I'll tell it as best I can.

Her exact words have faded away, but not their meaning.

Hunilla left the continent with her husband, Felipe,

and her brother, on a Dutch boat.

They were bound for one of these isles.

They arrived and went to shore.

The captain promised to return in four months.

There was foul play, or maybe fickleness,

or perhaps it was due to shipwreck and death,

but the boat never returned.

Hunilla!

They sunk before her eyes.

And before her eyes, they died.

I buried him.

But my brother... never.

I've buried my life, my Lord.

But God also brought happiness.

I am very alone. Very alone.

What day was it?

What month?

She no longer knew.

Hunilla was completely lost in the labyrinth of time.

And no other boat ever passed by the island?

I don't have to tell you, sir.

But I saw...

Saw what, Hunilla?

You saw ships sail by?

You tried to signal them, but they sailed on?

Is that it, Hunilla?

I don't have to tell you, sir.

It was like you said.

Fate has sent me a companion.

He's on the other side. I'll have to go find him.

There is also food and turtle oil.

I was so afraid.

I thought you abandoned me.

I was afraid.

Pierre Ducheman. Previously a sailor on the French ship The Lamentable.

I thank your captain for sending you here.

The source is weak, and the water was often insufficient.

They became accustomed to thirst.

When I saw her for the first time...

Pierre did not go into the details of his adventure.

Too young to hide his most inner thoughts,

he dwelled not so much on the facts, but on how they made him feel.

The boat's crew had stopped on shore for some maintenance work.

This brief stop would not have changed things...

if that isle had not been...

the one where Hunilla was living.

Do not be afraid. The men are gone.

I've left my boat.

You do not understand me.

But how can I say this... See, I left those men.

Forgive them.

Do not be afraid.

There are certainly people who can save us.

I'll find them.

Let me help you. I want to do that.

Excuse me.

I've explored the island. It is utterly deserted.

We are alone, you and me.

There's the water.

Do you not understand? How long have you been alone?

This is unbelievable.

I would never have thought it.

I could never imagine this.

I was a fool to escape.

It'll be months before a ship passes by.

We must be rescued.

But say something.

You have no right to stay silent.

We should speak to one another.

I don't know what to do.

The days passed by.

Hunilla, Pierre told me, never spoke.

They lived as if they were alone.

Doubly alone.

I was thirsty.

The sea is beautiful.

I've never seen it so calm.

That is not what I meant to say.

You don't understand me. I could tell you anything.

And yet...

I love it when you bend your neck.

Yes, I love it.

I would like to see your hair down.

In some paintings, women have their hair undone.

You look at me in such a perplexing way.

Pierre talked in his mother tongue.

He knew she could not understand.

He told her his innermost secrets.

Hunilla, however, sometimes suspected a meaning...

and sometimes understood his feelings.

It frightened me to see you in the water.

I can no longer abide the sea.

It has become difficult for me.

It has been a long time since I have spoken.

The last time...

The last time it happened was up there,

when I signaled to my brother.

Your voice sounds so calm.

I'm happy you are no longer sad.

The loneliness was too much.

Hunilla felt like she was on trial.

But a companion has come to me...

and my solitude has become light.

I feel so much joy.

Oh Pierre, your youth.

Good night.

Good night, Pierre.

You're quite moved.

Please forgive me.

No need to apologize.

The following day...

I did not dare approach her.

I thought I lost her by loving her too much.

She was the first to speak.

"Pierre," she said, "your presence is sweet."

But I should remain alone.

My death like my life will be solitary.

'Is it unjust, Pierre?', she asked. 'My heart says no'.

I barely made sense of her words.

Weeks passed before your arrival.

Her demeanor was friendly, mine was passionate.

I stayed by her. I was often happy.

Sometimes I forgot the strangeness of our life.

I refused to imagine that we'd one day separate.

I dare to tell you...

I wonder what I would have done if I had been the first to spot your boat.

Now...

I am a sailor, sir.

If your captain accepts me, I will bow down to this ship's flag.

I thank you for listening...

I must sound foolish.

Don't believe it.

I am grateful we spoke.

But, I believe the boat will be leaving. Come on.

How many can you take on board?

We cannot take all of them.

We are struggling to survive, and the winds are uncertain.

So just choose one.

And now the sea...

once more.