All language subtitles for Old_Gringo.1988.MULTI_-_Vivlajeunesse (2)

He told me I would forget the desert,
and what they had fought for.

But how could I not remember?

It was where my life began.

This land where death is not the end,
but only the beginning.

The story began before I knew
it was a story.

Hearing his voice before I knew
who he was.

The struggle for truth is part
of the struggle for human dignity.

And only to the altar of truth
has he borne his offerings...

...the most genuine product
of American genius and spirit.

Nice to see you, Miss Winslow.
Have classes begun yet?

I'm not sure I'm teaching
this year.

And how is your mother?

Very well, thank you.

I'd like to learn Spanish.
Have you any books?

Spanish? Well, we must have something.
Let me see. Spanish, how interesting.

A paragon of a writer.
I am honoured to present...

...the author of these marvellous
collected works, Ambrose Bierce!

Ladies...

...admiring ladies...

...prudes...

...suffragettes, foolish women
of America...

...and gentlemen.

I address, above all, you
professionals of the written word...

...who are already corrupt.

Or well on your way to selling
the products of your pens...

...to the highest bidder.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Mr. Bierce isn't well...

Only my lungs are sick!

Every word I utter comes directly
from my perfectly lucid mind!

There is something in
my editor's words, however, yes.

Yes.

When he spoke of my being faithful
only to the truth. Yes.

Day after day, believing that
every printed word was eternal.

And would, somehow...

...open men's minds.

I...

...sacrificed every day
of my family's life.

Every day of my children's lives.

And for what? I wrote. You read.
He grew richer.

Hearst, the owner of my newspaper.

He acquired more power.

My words did not serve the truth.
They served him.

Now, after this triumphant
presentation...

...of these 14 volumes
of meaningless paper...

...I bid you farewell.

I look you all straight in the face!

And with an enormous amount
of pleasure...

...I bid you farewell!

I hope never to see you again!

I never saw his face that day.

He had done what
I hadn't dared to do until then...

... say farewell to his world...

... just as my father had done
15 years before.

Harriet, I'm ready!

Harriet!

You're not dressed yet.
We'll be late.

- I'm not going.
- What did you say?

I'm not going with you to Arlington,
to that ceremony.

Not ever again.

It's the 15th anniversary
of the war in Cuba.

Your father's fellow officers
will be there.

What'll they think
if we aren't there?

What are you doing?

How can you be so disrespectful
of your father's memory?

I'm not being disrespectful.
I'm being honest.

From now on I'm going to be honest
with my father's memory.

I don't know what's gotten into you.

Take a few of those pills
for your nerves.

You haven't been yourself for months.
Breaking your engagement...

That engagement was a lie!
Like it's a lie to collect checks...

...for 15 years...

...as the beloved family...

...of a man who died honourably
on the battlefield.

Harriet, control yourself.

I don't want to control myself.

I don't want pills.

I don't want funeral honours
for a father who's still alive.

Mother, let me say it finally.
Alive! More alive than we are.

I don't understand what
you're talking about.

You're not a widow, Mother.

He didn't come back because
he didn't want to live with you.

Your husband left you.

And now you are planning
to do the same.

You too want to abandon me...

...without saying a word!

This is dated October.
How long have you had this?

How dare you?

How dare you respond to the offer?
Have you taken leave of your senses?

This is the first sensible thing
I've done in my life.

I've been hired!

You can't be serious! You can't be
a servant in some Mexican family!

You're an educated, independent girl.

I'm not a girl, Mother.
I'm a spinster.

I'm not independent. I'm like you.
We live on pensions we don't deserve.

Why don't you try calling things
by their name for once?

You know, Harriet...

...you are too much like your father.

There's one more on top.

- Smashing barrels in the street.

- Buenos d�as.
- They say Villa will outlaw alcohol.

- I'm Harriet Winslow.
- Yes, your room is ready.

Drinking will be punishable by death.

- I hope you're pleased with your room.
- I'd like to send a telegram.

Yes.

They're moving against
eight important families in Mexico.

Declaring them enemies of the
Revolution and confiscating property.

Is there anything else
we can do for you?

Howard, I can't hear you!

But it's addressed to Miranda.

Could you send that for me right away?

- They're waiting to hear.
- We'll do what we can...

...but sometimes they cut the lines,
sometimes they intercept them.

Miranda has been declared
an enemy of the Revolution.

I just phoned it to my paper.

Excuse me, I couldn't help
but overhear. Professional liability.

What does that mean,
what you just said?

Chihuahua is now
revolutionary territory.

The Miranda hacienda is controlled by
Federales. You're not going there?

Perhaps it would be wiser
for you to return home.

No, gracias.

I'll never buy another newspaper
in my life.

You understand English?

No, of course you don't.

I'm writing my last letter.

There's always a last time
for everything in life.

"If you hear of my being stood
up against a Mexican stone wall...

...and shot to rags, please know
I consider it a good way to depart.

Beats old age, disease,
or falling down the stairs.

To be a gringo in Mexico...

...that is euthanasia!"

Buenas noches. Are you Miss Winslow?

- Buenas noches. Yes, I am.
- My name is Frutos Garcia.

You got a telegram from the Mirandas?

Have they sent you for me?

It's a long trip.
We'll leave before sunrise.

Happy New Year!

She'll give us the luggage.

A gringa wouldn't think
an Indian smart enough to trick her.

What if the Mirandas have left?

But they wired her.

What if they left?

I promised General Villa a Miranda
for Christmas, remember?

And then we join with Villa
to capture the city of Ojinaga.

Staring at me for any
particular reason?

I have never seen an old man
drink so much.

Revolutionaries should study
some history. In every war...

...drunken nations have
conquered the sober one.

Drunks always talk better
than they shoot.

- You think I'm drunk.
- Aren't you?

Ni�o, newspaperman.
Come, help me for a moment.

Maybe mister would like
to join us for dinner.

No, gracias.

- I want to go with you.
- Where?

I am looking for Villa.

What do you want with him?

To fight. In la Revoluci�n.

Frutos!

Here we are, general!

What's happening?

Look at fatso running! Look at him!

Hi! Are you ready for the fight?

Monsalvo, have the train leave!
Wait outside the hacienda.

See you there, Pedrito. Good luck!

Who is that man?

A crazy old gringo on a white horse.

The horse must also be gringo.

Stop! They've seen us!

Los Federales are coming, se�orita.

Get out of the car.
It is better that they see you.

Oh, this is beautiful!

Without my realizing it...

... we had crossed the line between
the revolutionary territory...

... and that held by the Federales.

Casimiro, who's that?

She comes to teach
the Miranda children.

Tell her she's too late!

Hey, teacher,
the Mirandas have already left!

It's a trap!

What is going on?

Where's your army?
Why don't you attack?

They're in a train close by,
awaiting my orders, but we're too few.

We came to take a Miranda.
Now we have no hostage.

You must help us!

Are you Ataulfo?
You will take a message to my people.

Why didn't we leave?

How did they get here?

You said the valley was safe!

She's the governess who wired.

- Se�or Miranda?
- I'm his administrator.

- Call him, please.
- He's gone.

No, he sent me a telegram.

We sent the telegram to trick
the bastards who intercept the wires.

Not for you, gringa est�pida!

You never saw something
like this, huh?

Stop! Stop!

Stop! Old fool!

Excuse me, gentlemen.
Can anyone tell me...

...where I might find Pancho Villa?

I am Villa!

Me, I am Villa!

We are all Villa!

We all owe the poor administrator.
All of us!

How much do you owe, Maria?
And you, Ataulfo, Manuel?

Tomas! He must live!

- General Arroyo, we need him alive!
- We're going to repay him!

You!

Listen to me, whoever you are!

General Tomas Arroyo, Third Regiment,
Northern Division.

Tell Frutos I am promoting you.

Thank you, general!

You have to get me out of here.

You have to take me back.
At least to Chihuahua.

I have more important things to do.

But you brought me here.

You deceived me to get in here.

S�, se�orita. And los Miranda
deceived the both of us.

What do you intend to do with me then?

With you? Nothing.

Give me a horse, and I'll go alone.
I don't need any of you.

The Revolution needs horses,
not governesses.

- Irrefutable logic!
- Just stay out of this.

Now I know why the gringos
come to Mexico.

Because they can't stand each other.

Don't you sleep?

I slept enough when I was young.
You and the general make your peace?

General!

Please. He's no general.

I know something about the military.

My father was a captain
in the war in Cuba.

Shameful war.

That war was invented
by a newspaper...

...and a group of bastards
reaped the rewards.

I'm very proud of my father.
Who are you anyway?

They call me Bitter.

- Why are you here?
- Well, why not?

You intend to stay?

Forever.

I must get out of here.

I must find a way back to Chihuahua.

Someone waiting for you there?

Nobody's waiting for me anywhere.

A very privileged situation, you know.

It hurts!

Am I going to die?

Yes.

Why did you tell him he was dying?

A man deserves the truth.

At least once before he dies.

He didn't need the truth.

He needed comfort.

It must be horrible to die,
frightened and alone.

Very few have the foresight
and opportunity...

...to plan any other kind of death.

You're so eloquent, but you say...

...such appalling things.

That's been the story of my life,
my dear.

Everybody appreciates the form
and is frightened of the content.

When I woke that first morning...

... the men had left to round up
the last Federales.

I found myself alone,
with the women and the children.

I was only trying to change my life.

They were trying to change
their whole world.

What beautiful hair you have.

You know, a g�era like you
could ruin my business.

What do you mean?
What is your business?

I'm a whore.

Please forgive me.

Ah, no reason, se�orita.
I feel no shame.

Can you imagine this army
without a good whore?

And you? Who are you?

You really come to teach the children
of los Miranda?

That's why the gringas are so white.
They squeeze like that.

- Your blood can't circulate.
- Why do you put it on?

It's my corset.

You know, if I wore it,
everybody would get to see it.

If you would like it...

...l'd be very happy to
give it to you.

Thank you.
Oh, I'm going to make them crazy.

Is it true that your armies go to war
with no women?

Yes, it's true.

And the women, do they stay at home
when the men fight?

- Of course.
- How can they like it that way?

They do like to make wars.

I mean, they go so many different
places to fight, but with no love...

...no children, no cooks,
no nothing...

We are very different.

When I was a girl, my mother
never let me name my legs.

I had to say "what I walk with."
Or my ass.

I had to say, "what I sit with."

I was never naked in front of anybody
before Tomas.

Never.

Then one day the bells in the town rang.
They rang and rang.

This is how we knew
la Revoluci�n had arrived.

And Tomas arrived into town.

And he gave me a name.

He named me La Luna, the moon.

And I followed him. It was simple.

I should have left sooner.

Much sooner.
But no bells rang for me.

Are you not a little old to be
a soldier of fortune?

The gringo is not a soldier
of fortune. He's an observer.

- Observer?
- You know how the gringos are.

While we kill each other,
they like to watch.

That is so true.

You must be a very brave man to be
so happy, under the circumstances.

You mean, because I'm going
to die tomorrow?

Why worry about the future, when
one is no longer there to feel it?

You gringos are too complicated.
Death is just death.

I would advise more humility
regarding such a subject.

You gringos are not the ones
to teach us humility.

You can't bet on how you'll behave...

...when death is staring you
in the face.

I do not think you have something to
teach me, just because you are old.

I wonder if the captain would remain
true to his theory...

...if General Arroyo would put him up
against this wall right now?

Instead of tomorrow.

General! It's a crime to murder
an officer without proper trial.

No one is going to murder you,
captain! We're just going to kill you!

Line the officers against the wall.

You can't kill me like this!

I won't kill you.

You, gringo!

You shoot him.

I'm giving you an order, gringo!

Kill him!

You don't want to do it?

You just want for us to kill him now.

Frutos, you were right.

The gringos are great
for giving ideas...

...but they want others
to kill for them.

Zacarias, come.

We're going to shoot this gringo
as well.

What are you doing, Arroyo?

No! Don't! No, you can't do this!

No, you can't kill him!

Oh, God, no, please!

Are you doing this because he
wouldn't act like a savage?

Oh, no! Oh, my God, no!

We had until tomorrow, viejo!

Please, don't!

Why waste time
playing with these gringos?

Get rid of them! Villa needs us!

Let's go! Stop this foolishness.

Please, let go of me.

We won't kill you, gringo.

Here, we do not kill our friends.

Come.

- Come. Please don't stay here.
- It was a joke.

A joke?

Look at this! Look at this killing!
You call this a joke?

They have a different sense of humour,
and of death.

I don't understand you.

You can't understand me
or anything else.

It's their war, their country,
whether you or I approve of it or not.

I behaved despicably.

Poor captain.

He was only trying to impress us
with his bravery in the face of death...

...proving he could die admirably.

It was almost amusing,
feeling that it couldn't happen to me...

...because I wasn't ready.

But you know...

...it was worth it...

...just to see you.

You were magnificent!

Your passionate interest
in saving my life was...

...deeply flattering!

I'm deeply moved.

You are intolerable!

Tolerate me.

Tolerate me, please, I beg of you.

It's been such a long time
since anyone even tried.

Oh, once, once, the women sighed.

Swelled out their chests...

How beautiful they were!

I thought they'd always be there...

...sighing into my moustache.

Admiring my every glance.

Just waiting for a sign from me.

But they've all gone.
They didn't wait.

I suppose I didn't inspire
enough love...

...in any of them.

What was it?

What? What was what?

What did you do to make them sigh?

I never sighed for a man.

Well, when I was...

...little more than a child,
I dreamt I would...

...do things that would
change the world.

And one night,
when I was about 16...

...I promised a girl that I would
do something grand.

Something really grand...

...that would make it impossible
for her not to love me.

And that afterwards,
I would come back for her.

"Well, what is it exactly
that you will do?"

I would write the most beautiful poem
that anybody had ever written.

A poem that would make people
cry with happiness...

...love with desperation.

Make them feel they understand the
meaning of their existence on earth.

"Oh, no...

...you cannot write that poem.
Nobody can."

And I said, "Wait."

"For how long?" she answered.

Since I was a child...

...and every hour seemed filled
with limitless possibilities...

...I told her just for a short while.

I wrote for 50 years.

I wrote every day of my life...

...without exception.
I wrote and wrote.

I wrote during long nights
of insomnia...

...in foreign countries...

...in newsrooms full of enemies.

I wrote while my youth drifted by.

And while love...

...betrayed me.

Many years ago, I forgot her face.

The exact colour of her eyes,
the precise line of her mouth.

But today, with my back
against that wall...

...I saw you.

And I knew that you were she.

And that the only place on earth
I could have written that poem...

...would have been in your arms.

My God...

...how I'm longing to kiss you.

That's what I did, you see.

You just sighed.

May I ask, general,
why the hacienda is burnt down?

There was a battle.

Will the land be distributed,
the owners compensated?

Careful, general. The headlines
will say your answer was:

"Private Property Abolished in Mexico."

Yes, the peasants, the true owners,
will receive reparations.

This is what we are fighting for.

What are you doing with my map?

Excuse me, it's upside down.

You know that the earth is round,
don't you, Mr. Journalist?

That means that sometimes you are
above and sometimes you are below.

Or no?

It's a wonderful statement, colonel,
and a curious idea as well.

One moment. Hold still.

What is keeping you here?

Villa is already marching south.

We leave tomorrow,
with the permission of General Arroyo.

I can take you to the border.

Ever since we met,
you've tried to send me back.

It must be my chivalrous spirit.
Are you coming?

No, I don't think so.

- Don't we know each other, sir?
- Nope.

I try to write an honest report.
It's not easy with Arroyo.

He answers everything
by saying nothing.

A prudent attitude
when dealing with the press.

People need to be informed.

Hearst doesn't want to inform people.
He wants to use them.

You know Hearst?

Of course you do! I know you!

I tried to see your collected works
in Washington.

I hear there was quite a scandal.

Mustn't believe everything you read.

Meeting you here is quite a story.

You will not write a word about me.

Why not?

Because I'm asking you not to.

Anyway...

...who cares how a writer nobody reads
ends his days?

I do!

I could have left with him.

Even the men were prepared to go.

Their mission was accomplished...

... and Villa needed all his people
at the front.

And yet they waited.

All of us waited,
because Arroyo wasn't ready.

What are you doing?

Don't play with their toys.

We mustn't accept anything from them!

No toys...

...no clothes, no ideas, nothing!

He's only a child.
He was just playing.

We cannot play.

Don't you think your patrons
owe you a few things?

Me too. I also owe you
some new clothes.

I think this will fit you very good.

And you don't have to sleep
on the ground. You have a bed.

Why are you doing this?

Las patronas gave their old clothes
to their governesses.

Listen to me...

- You don't call me general.
- I don't think of you as one.

You know only generals who
study in schools and win on maps.

I am of the Revolution.
The battles have made me general!

The land that we fought for,
metro a metro.

And the people you've killed.

S�, se�orita,
the people I have killed.

Starting with the first.

The one who slept in this bed,
el viejo Miranda.

When I was 17, I killed the man who
raped my mother and made me a bastard.

She was an Indian peasant.
E I patr�n was my father.

You see?

That horrifies you, no?

Do you want to know how I grew up,
watching the Mirandas?

How I watched them round up
the youngest and weakest of the women...

...as if they were cattle
and rape them in front of everybody?

How they punished with whips...

...and tore them apart
for looking the patr�n in the eye?

It was not los Miranda only.
It was the same all over Mexico.

It wasn't just my history.
It was the history of everybody.

When I understood that...

...then Villa made me general.

Get inside! Don't be afraid!
I'll hold you.

The papers are in a wooden box.

Go higher!

200 years ago, the Spaniards wrote in
these deeds that this land is ours.

You found them!

We found them!

We got our papers back!

They were where the old Indians
told me to hide them years ago.

These papers prove...

...who owns the land.

The Mirandas will have other papers.

Papers don't mean anything.

When gringos like you
weren't even a dream...

...our people were already
rich and wise...

...and powerful!

These papers have existed
long before the gringos...

...or los Miranda or the
grandfathers of their grandfathers!

These papers are sacred!

No paper is sacred, general.

Perhaps it seems so to you
because you don't know how to read.

I do not need to know how to read...

...to know which piece of this
immense earth belongs to me.

I know who I am. Do you?

What are you doing in a country
that does not belong to you?

What will you do in a grave
that no one will visit?

Don't be afraid! Come on in!

Do you see yourselves?

This is you!

Look at me!

It's me that you see waving!

Look at yourself, Ataulfo!
And you, Nicasio!

You're laughing, Ataulfo! I see you!

Look, Leocadio!
It's you, the stubby guy!

And you, Maria.
Look what beautiful hair you have.

This is us!

These people are us!

Look at yourself, gringuita!

Look and see if you can see
what I see.

Look at yourself close.

You see how something in your face
begins to open?

Look at your eyes.

They are more sweet now
than when I knew you in Chihuahua.

And the mouth.

More soft.

Look at how you look at us now.

Now that you look at us without fear.

Now I like to look at you
when you look at me.

Hey, gringo!

- Come with us!
- Where to?

Where to?

It is a short trip, gringo,
but you have to gallop!

A new face is always welcome.

- You still like women?
- I do, and I will after I'm dead...

...but it isn't easy at my age
to bring together...

...opportunity, desire and energy...

...and it would require patience
incompatible with your business.

I like you, gringo.
I've never met an old man like you.

I've had many gringos, but they was
young and their skin was tasteless.

But you, you seem very tasty.

I'd love to have patience with you.

Thank you very much,
but we have another problem.

I have never paid in my life.

- It's about time you started.
- It's a matter of principle.

Principles? When gentlemen start
talking about principles...

...we poor people lose
what we don't even have!

I like a woman
who can make a man laugh.

I bet you even make them laugh in bed.

- So you don't pay?
- No.

What you do when you're not fighting?

- I read.
- You read books?

The priest in my village, he say:

"To read books
can make a man go crazy."

I can't blame the books.
At least not the ones I've read.

Perhaps the ones I've written.

You wrote books?

Yes, a few.

So, why are you sad?

When you are gone,
the people who can read...

...they'll remember you.

Yes!

You give me one of your books...

...I no charge you.

Your work for my work.

That way you stay
with your principles...

...and me with mine.

So you like the clothes
of los Miranda.

Everyone likes what is beautiful.

Man is one of the most
pathetic creatures on earth.

Condemned to a desire that
contradicts the laws of nature...

...to close the gap
between two human beings.

Some call this desire love...

...and it is desperately impossible
to satisfy.

Nevertheless...

...I would like to delude myself
one more time...

...to feel intrigued, hopeful...

...enthusiastic.

And not knowing...

...if this might perhaps be...

...your first time...

...l'd like to request that you
participate with me...

...in what will undoubtedly be...

...my last time.

Please, try to close your mouth.

You don't have to answer me now.

Think about it.

You've seen all the clocks
in this house?

When I was a boy...

...I used to think that time
belonged to los Miranda.

That they were the owners
of the hours.

I used to dream...

...of going inside one of those...

- Pendulum.
- Pendulum, yes.

I stop it...

...and everything stops
because I want.

And then when I want,
everything starts again.

But it is different
because then it is...

It is our time, not theirs.

Speak to me more, General Arroyo.

I like to listen to you.

You like it?

And now...

You like when I speak in my language?

You understand me...

...not my words.

I like you, gringuita.

You like me to say it to you?

When Villa told me
to take this hacienda, Mother...

...I was afraid.

Maybe my fate was to come back...

...to look at myself in their mirrors,
to dance where I couldn't even walk...

...to sleep in their beds!

We kicked them out!

There's no Miranda left here...

...except me.

- You are listening to me, gringo.
- I'm listening.

Your horse brought me here.

Come, come talk with me.

Talk with my family.

Here they are.

My godfather, Graciano...

...my mother, Dolores Arroyo.

And your father?

Was a Miranda.

And I killed him.

Want to drink with me?

- I thought you didn't drink.
- I don't drink with the living...

...but tonight I come to visit
my dead. To celebrate with them.

You visit your dead ones?

No.

Sometimes they come to visit me.

I had two sons. One killed himself,
the other got himself killed.

I think they were trying
to be like me...

...and they couldn't stand it.

We make a good couple.

Were you ever in love?

- Many times.
- Women are...

... strange animals, no?

Yes.

But you never know...

...what they're thinking.
- Never.

They always know
what a man's thinking.

Not always.

But they think they do.

And you...

... how do you like your women?

Sighing.

I'll give you another name.

- What name?
- I must look for it.

It must be a Mexican name...

...so that you will come
when I call you.

This way, only I can call you that.

I think I love you.

You think?

I've never been in love before.
I have nothing to compare it to.

Isn't it wonderful?

Look at them all.

I was always afraid of the unknown.

Whenever my mother said
someone was different...

...what she meant to say was "worse."

Perhaps it's why she and my father
didn't get along. He wasn't like that.

I want to tell you something.

My father didn't die in Cuba.

He fell in love with a woman
and stayed to live with her.

I've never told that to anyone before.

I've spent my life
taking care of an empty grave.

I wish I could see him again.

I wish I could embrace my daughter.

It would be wonderful
to have a second chance.

It's unbearable to think
life prints in its final form...

...what is only an awkward
rough draft.

Things being as they are,
there's a last time for everything.

And I want to plan that final version.

I like the idea of being
more careful than God.

Of not allowing him
to improvise with me...

...as he is doing with you.

Why not? His improvisations
can be wonderful.

And he ran...

...and he ran, and he ran...

...and he was almost embracing
his wife and children...

...when he felt a stunning blow...

...upon the back of his neck.
And then all...

...was silence...

...and darkness.

And his body with the broken neck...

...swung gently from side to side...

...beneath the timbers...

...of the Owl Creek Bridge.

Look.

Skeletons. Death.

I will sing a corrido
The story starts like this

Once upon a time an old gringo
Came here to get himself killed

He wanted to fight with Villa
Then he met a blond gringa

Who follows Tomas Arroyo
Like a true soldadera

Our story stops here
While the war goes on far away

Because our General Arroyo
Is looking for himself in the mirrors

He sees a ghost that haunted him
From the day he arrived

He did what must not be done
Return to the place he was born

His past will not let him
Come to a decision

To be a Miranda
Or fight the Revolution

Good afternoon!

Good afternoon, my friends!

Sorry I'm so dirty from the trip.

Well, Zacarias...

...you deserted, you went home
and killed people.

Defend yourself.

I went to visit my family.
But, hell...

...those bastards exploited us.

I just wanted to teach them...

...but I got excited.

We're not here for
your personal revenge.

- I know it was wrong, colonel.
- And you stayed.

Of course! I was at home!

We are so many here!

I didn't think you'd miss me.

What would happen to the Revolution...

...if everyone stayed home?

And you? You did the same.

That's all you have to say?

Yes!

I'm sorry. I'll never...

Then I'm sending you
to the firing squad.

To shoot me?

He ordered him to be shot.

Take him!

Forgive me, general! For the love
of God! What happened to you?

Take him away!

Why? You could lock him up.
You don't have to kill him.

I give the orders here.

You must leave this place.

Don't stay here, son.

I am not your son!

Someone has to help you
to get out of here.

What are you looking at?

A Miranda.

I had not seen one until now.

That's a good horse.

A beautiful horse.

I'm gonna ride you now, Angel...

...if you'll agree.

I can promise you something.

I will never ride again.

Never.

What are you doing, gringo?
Nobody can ride him.

If the horse doesn't kill you,
Arroyo will.

Yes, perhaps...

...but he needs our help.

Angel knows...

...what I am thinking.

Don't you, Angel?

- You read English?
- Me? I almost no read espa�ol.

I went two years to... Oh, that book.

The old gringo gave it to me.

He didn't give it to me,
we made a trueque. A trade.

And he wrote it, you know?

Hey, you want to read it?

I've read it.
I've read all his stories.

All this time we've been together,
I didn't know who he was.

He was in Washington.

I never saw his face.
I didn't know it was the same man.

I'm leaving, Tomas.

Won't you say goodbye?

We should have left
this damned hacienda long ago.

Villa's expecting us!

He's going to take Torreon
and here you are with your papers!

He needs us, Tomas!

Look, Tomas...

...the Revolution will live...

...only if we move.

If we stop, it dies!

Nobody moves without my order.

You must shoot me then.

Kill me, Tomas.

Because if you don't,
I'm taking your army with me.

Why?

Why didn't you kill me?

You loved that horse!

This hacienda...

...is driving you crazy!

Why didn't you kill me?

I was beginning
to grow fond of you, general.

You're too much like me.

You're capable of fighting
for words...

...written on pieces of paper.

You are capable of killing...

...for pride.

These papers are meaningless!

There.

It's done.

Now you can leave.

These papers are meaningless.

Take your general
away from this place.

These papers...

...mean nothing!

Get him out of this hacienda!

Not yet.

Not yet.

I know who you are.

This is Consul Saunders. He represents
the U.S. Here in Chihuahua.

Have a seat, please.

Now tell me, how may I help you?

I am Harriet Winslow.

I've come to report that
a United States citizen has been killed.

Please tell me, ma'am...

...when did this happen?

Yesterday.

It happened yesterday.

There was a fight and he was killed.

His whole body quivered.

Could you please give us the name...

...of the person who died
during that fight?

I'll have to raise this matter
with General Villa.

And I must have the name.

He said to me:

"I'd like to embrace
my daughter again."

And I said there is...

...an empty grave at Arlington
waiting for him.

Waiting for my father.

Your father was fighting here
in Mexico?

I want his body. I want to bring
his body where it belongs.

Miss Winslow, we must...

Please, give us the name.

Captain Harrison Winslow.

That was my father's name.

It could even give President Wilson
an excuse to intervene...

...if I give him the corpse as is.

You see, Tomas, I can't prepare
to attack the city of Torreon...

...with trouble with gringos because
of a corpse full of holes in his back.

Who was he, anyway?

A crazy old man looking for death.

But he was brave.

Se�orita Winslow...

...I am General Villa.

So you came all the way here
to claim a dead body.

Yes, general.

You know, every time a foreign
journalist asks me:

"Why are you fighting
this Revolution?"

I answer, "So they don't have
to ask permission from anyone...

...or have an army anymore."

When it is over, we can go home,
and I'll be the first to go.

That'll be the end
of uniforms and battles...

...and all this death.

But what would happen...

...if we all stayed home?

You know I love you like a son,
Tomasito, don't you?

But you set a bad example when you
should have come running here.

Now we have this body.

And this is the body of...

...Captain Harrison Winslow?

Yes.

What?

Let the lady speak.

This man fought courageously
for our Revolution...

...alongside General Arroyo.

But he disobeyed orders
as General Arroyo did himself.

So he deserved to be shot.

But not in the back.

Your father... You did say
he was your father?

Yes.

We put here...

...that you witnessed...

...both executions.

If you please sign the paper...

...everything will be in order.

Sign it.

Thank you, Miss Winslow.

I am to blame.

No, I have disobeyed orders.

It is as if I had deserted.

You don't have much time, Tomasito.

- Why do you say he is your father?
- I lied...

...because I had to claim his body.

I couldn't leave him in the desert
with no one to mourn him.

I don't want you to die.

I don't want you to see me die.

You will forget.

You'll tell your grandchildren
you saw people die in the Revolution...

...but you will forget
why we have fought!

You will tell them
you once ate tortillas...

...but you will forget the smell.

You will forget.

I shall never forget you.

Never.

You made me believe I could live
a different kind of life.

And I will never be the same.

We're going to kill the last Miranda.

We make a good couple, viejo.

Hey, Miss Winslow!
This is a moving picture!

Is it true you came south
in search of your father?

And would you testify to the Senate
as to the savagery rampant here?

Do you believe they'll
achieve democracy?

Don't you think the U.S.
Should intervene?

He told me I would forget.

But how could I not remember?

The young general
who wanted to change the world...

... the old writer
who wanted to bid it farewell.

I am the one who will live
to remember them both.

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