Original subtitles

WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT

PROLOGUE

WILLPOWER

Pa.

Pa.

Pa. Say "pa".

Come on, it's the first thing babies say.

It's the easiest syllable to start with. Pa.

Paaaa.

Pa.

Pa.

Pa.

Pa. Pa.

Pa.

How can I establish contact?

How should I communicate?

Paaaa!

Stone.

Hello, stone.

Stone?

Sto-ne.

S-T-O-N-E.

Stone.

Come on, stone.

Say it.

Pa.

I don't know if you hear me, but you can understand.

You understand? You get me?

I know you can say it, you can say "pa".

I know you can talk, even a little.

And I know it's hard because perhaps you were never asked to...

...and these things can be hard at first.

I'm aware of all that.

That's why I'm understanding, but do make a little effort.

I'll say it again. Then you say it with me.

All right?

Come on, say it.

It's hard, but not impossible. Come on, say it. Pa.

Pa!

Pa!

Why is it so hard for you to talk?

I've decided to teach you even though it won't be easy.

Man has always underrated...

...the verbal capacity of the mineral world.

It's just a question of having the willpower to achieve it.

Come on.

Say "pa".

Pa.

Pa.

Good morning, stone.

That's it.

Not too hot, and not too cold.

Come on, say "pa".

Pa.

Paaaaaa!

All right then, don't speak!

Think I don't notice your tacit contempt?

Your disdain is silently obvious!

But I'll tell you something. Nobody makes fun of me!

Paaaaaa! .

WISDOM

Otto!

Otto!

Hello, gorgeous.

Yes.

Every time I go to bed with someone...

...I don't do it because of an attack of lubricity...

...but because I've fallen in love.

And I needn't feel guilty.

You and I have a very clear, flexible agreement about this.

But somehow I feel cleaner...

...if I tell you I do it for love.

But if I get involved with somebody...

...you say it's out of lubricity.

It annoys you.

Don't think that I'm jealous. I'm not, not at all.

It just annoys me that you're so vulgar, so carnal.

Well, I am jealous when you sleep with someone.

But that's because you fall in love.

If the person with whom you have a flexible agreement...

...falls in love with someone else...

...it's logical to be jealous.

How do you think I decide my affairs are based on love...

...and yours on lust?

You apply a very simple scale.

You are you, and that justifies everything.

While not only am I not you, I am also a man...

...with all the historical implications.

That isn't true.

Although the years have taught me...

...that men and women do behave differently...

...I do think...

...that you can never generalize.

But really, the old saying that "all men are equal"...

...while being a cliche and thus repugnant...

...is at least partly true.

Maybe not all of you...

...but most of you are the same.

I know what I'm saying.

I've been in love with loads...

...and unfailingly, no matter how they adorn it...

...men get involved with me out of lubricity.

To which you succumb very easily.

I do admit that I've always been prone to fall in love.

Love intoxicates me in such a way...

...that as soon as a man caresses my back...

...kisses my ear and puts his hand between my legs...

...no matter how I try to say no, I always say yes.

HONESTY

Today, I'm real anxious to leave on time.

I finally got Mnnt's boyfriend to ask me out...

...with the excuse of talking about her.

She's my best friend.

But I know from what Mnnt has told me...

...that Ztt isn't one to waste time...

...and talking is what least interests him.

If he has asked me round for dinner...

...it's to impale me on the table...

...among the candles and the spaghetti.

If he has made spaghetti for dinner.

He always makes spaghetti for dinner.

Mnnt told me that.

I'm just dying to go and see him.

Hello!

Mr. Rdz, it's time for your tablet.

Come along, Mr. Rdz.

The patient in room 8 is dead.

I must go. The man in room 8 has died.

It's a real nuisance that he died just now.

If I report this, I'll have to stay longer...

...even though the new shift starts in 15 minutes.

Deaths mean paperwork.

It isn't something you can do quickly.

It means I'll be late for my date.

Of course, I could call Ztt, explain what's happened...

...and suggest that we meet another day.

But experience has taught me...

...that it's fatal to postpone a date.

If the first one is postponed, then so is the second.

And, for various reasons, postponement becomes permanent.

It's been an awful day. I'm dying to finish...

...go round there, and just surrender.

If I was closer to the nurse who found the dead man...

...I'd ask her to ignore it.

Then someone on the next shift would find him...

...and another head nurse would have to sort it all out.

And the next shift will have just started working...

...and a dead man will be no big deal.

That way, I'd get to my date on time.

But I don't trust the nurse.

She's new, and she may suffer...

...from that devotion to ethics which novices often have.

Maybe not, but she may take note...

...and use it some day for her own benefit.

I'm getting more nervous.

It's getting closer to my date with Ztt and his spaghetti...

...and I just can't bear to miss it.

What should I do?

I have to make a decision.

The nurse is wondering why I'm talking...

...and not doing anything.

I'll see to everything. Don't worry.

And I can't ask the head nurse on the next shift to help.

She isn't too fussy about ethics...

...but we've hated each other since the day we met.

What do I do? Just sit back and forget the spaghetti?

I'm so upset I can't think. It looks like it's impossible.

There's just one possibility.

I have to ask you a favor. The man in room 8 has died...

...and I absolutely have to leave.

Don't worry, you can leave now. I'll see to everything.

Thank you.

Will the insinuating smiles that doctor's been giving me...

...since he started working here...

...become specific proposals because of this?

And would I accept?

I never thought about it. In theory, I'd have said no.

But after considering it carefully, why not?

If I changed my mind, I could say no.

You don't pay for a favor.

If you do pay, then it isn't a favor.

My shift ended ten minutes ago!

The more I think, the less I want to say no.

In fact, I want to say yes.

I'm dying for him to proposition me.

So much so, that I'm forgetting about Ztt...

...impaling me on the table, among the spaghetti.

Ztt? It's me. I'm sorry, I can't make it.

I have a load of work, I don't know when I'll finish.

Yeah, we'll call each other.

How long will you take to proposition me?

And how can I encourage you if you take too long?

SINCERITY

To us.

To our engagement.

When do we get married?

We'll decide that later. I'm too excited now.

I love you.

And I love you.

You'll always be faithful?

Always. I could never cheat on you. And you?

No, I'd die first.

I'll always love you.

All my life.

- Me too. - Me too.

- Always together. - Together.

We'll always be honest.

We'll always be honest.

Always faithful.

Faithful.

We'll always be honest with each other.

We'll never lie, there can never be any excuse.

One single lie would kill our love.

- Shall we go and eat? - Yes.

I don't want much. A snack will do me.

- But you must be hungry. - No, I'll be all right.

Yes, I am hungry.

But a snack will do me. I'll have more than you.

No, you want a meal.

Wouldn't you rather go to a restaurant?

We've promised to be honest, so, yes.

I admit I'd rather go to a restaurant.

See how I was right?

What about that Japanese one we went to? You really liked it.

I never said I liked the Japanese place.

I remember perfectly. I told you it was all right...

...but I didn't like it.

Anyway, last week I hadn't promised to be honest with you.

So, you didn't like it?

No. I hate Japanese food.

- But you know I love it. - I know.

Look, to be totally honest...

...one of things I dislike about you...

...is that you like restaurants which replace good food...

...with public relations.

That's part of an attitude which you think is snob...

...but really is just bad taste.

- You're an idiot. - I don't think I am.

If we did an intelligence test, you would not be the winner.

You're a chronic idiot, and you always will be!

I never want to see you again!

I agree entirely.

SUBMISSION

I've always had it very clear.

I will continue searching until I find...

...a real man.

One who gets to the point...

...and doesn't waste time on useless niceties.

I want a man who doesn't listen to what I say...

...for instance, during lunch.

I can't stand men who try to be understanding...

...and tell me that they want to share my problems.

I want a man...

...who doesn't worry about any feelings I may have.

Even as a girl...

...I fled from boys who were always talking about love.

Love!

I want a man who never talks of love, or says he loves me.

It seems ridiculous when a man looks at me and says...

..."I love you".

I'll tell him that I love him, and I really will love him...

...and then I'll happily bear the look of compassion...

...which he'll give me.

That's the kind of man I want.

A man who'll do whatever he wants in bed...

...without worrying about me...

...because his pleasure will be mine.

What really annoys me is the kind of man who...

...in the middle of intercourse...

...starts worrying about whether I've had an orgasm.

One thing.

He must be intelligent...

...and successful, with a busy life of his own.

He mustn't depend on me, he should travel...

...and, without hiding it too much, have other women.

I don't care, because he will always know...

...that a simple whistle...

...will have me at his feet, ready to obey him.

Because I want to obey him.

I want a man who bosses me, who dominates me.

Who, when he wants, gropes me in front of other people.

And who, if I should ever get an attack of chastity...

...would hit me...

...and not worry whether people were watching us or not.

I want him to hit me at home.

Partly because I like it.

It really turns me on when they hit me.

And partly because I'm sure that with such an offer...

...he could never do without...

...me.

COMPETITION

Everyone calls him Morell. At school, at university...

...in the office where he works.

Others are Josep, Juan or Maria, but he's always Morell.

Baba, his girlfriend, calls him by his surname...

...even during moments of great intimacy...

...and back-scratching.

Baba says he's pleasant and friendly.

Morell isn't arrogant. Quite the opposite.

She is delighted with him.

Especially because she's just had...

...a run of depressive boyfriends...

...the kind who look for shoulders to cry on.

When Baba goes to empty the ashtray...

...the noise of a fight...

...draws him to the window.

Outside, all is dark.

In the building opposite, only three windows are lit.

One is that of the couple who are always fighting.

All he can see up in the attic is a guy smoking a cigarette.

The new tenant on the third floor...

...is a girl who works in Baba's building...

...in a different firm.

They saw her in the street one day...

...and she and Baba smiled at each other.

They eat and sleep at Morell's three or four times a week.

Never at Baba's place. She lives with three friends.

That makes it less suitable for a tumble.

Now she'll ask for the pepper.

Where's the pepper?

That's a habit of Baba's.

As soon as she sits down...

...she remembers something she wants.

But Morell is still forgiving her everything.

When he gets up, he sees the neighbor...

...on the balcony, looking splendid.

Two days later, while trying to listen to Brazilian music...

...the neighbors' quarrel draws him to the window.

Where does the woman get her energy?

She'll end up hoarse.

He looks over at the next apartment.

Incredible!

On Monday afternoon, after phoning Baba...

...he installs himself at the window.

At first, he feels guilty about violating her privacy.

But then he thinks it isn't so awful.

He's only looking at the view from his own window.

Everyone can take the air on a warm day.

What's wrong with that?

Having reached this conclusion, he stares over.

He'd like to get a better look at her.

A few days later, he buys a very powerful telescope.

It's an import, made in Taiwan.

At about 6.45...

...he's all ready.

He can see better, but he must learn how to use the telescope.

The window to the right must be the kitchen, and further back...

...must be...

...the front door.

He is fascinated.

Lf, in day light, he can see everything...

...how she strips...

...the color of the liquid in her glass...

...at night time, when the houses are lit up...

...visibility will be perfect.

And so it is.

When, at about 10.00, the girl wakes up...

...and switches on the light...

...he has total vision.

He sees each detail as if it were on a film screen.

The gleam of the clothes she carries off to the right.

That must be her bedroom.

She doesn't go to bed until 12.30.

When her light goes off...

...Morell finishes up.

The problem is he can't use the telescope if Baba is there.

To space out her visits...

...he says he has a lot of work...

...and to make up, talks about their vacation in September...

...their first vacation together.

Soon, he knows the neighbor's timetable so well...

...he knows exactly when to look.

On one hand, the situation...

...is more interesting.

On the other, he feels it's time to stop...

...call Baba, go out and forget about it all...

...instead of watching this private theater.

They must be in the kitchen.

Or maybe not.

What if, right now, they are in full amorous ecstasy?

At 10. 15, she has put on a record...

...and is dancing to the hot rhythm.

It's frustrating...

...not hearing what they say. He wishes he could lip read.

What will they do in the bedroom?

This guy visits the neighbor approximately twice a week.

And sometimes, another one comes.

It's impossible to tell who'll come when.

The first week, the regular comes Monday and Thursday.

The other, Tuesday and Friday.

The second week, the regular comes Tuesday and Saturday.

The other doesn't come.

The third week, the regular comes Tuesday.

The other, Sunday.

Tonight, the neighbor is on the balcony...

...with the regular.

She looks around and glances at his window for an instant...

...a micro-second.

Long enough to alarm him.

That night he dreams...

...that the man who visits her isn't the regular...

...or the other one...

...but him.

When she is there, right in front of him...

...he finds her unattractive.

Her skin is far too porous and she smells of babies.

Soon he gets fed up with it all...

...and he invites Baba to spend the night with him.

While Baba is preparing gazpacho for supper...

...he suddenly remembers...

...he hasn't put the telescope away.

He can't resist taking a look.

This is clearly...

...a challenge. You look at me...

...I look at you.

She didn't buy a telescope...

...by pure coincidence.

Did she catch him watching her?

How? When did he...

...make a mistake?

Spurred on by feeling the neighbor's eyes on him...

...he surpasses himself with Baba that night.

Like a child showing off his drawing...

...he goes to the window.

Despite the darkness, he thinks he sees her at the telescope.

He feels satisfied.

Tomorrow, not only will he see her again...

...but she will know she is being watched all the time...

...continuously.

When he gets back from work, he sits down at the telescope.

This evening...

...the neighbor gives him...

...an innocent smile.

At 9.00, she comes in, not with the boyfriends he knows...

...but with two strangers, laden with books.

For a moment, he thinks it's a meeting...

...and he's disappointed.

He is about to abandon the telescope...

...but fortunately...

...he doesn't.

Fifteen minutes later, she's at it with both of them.

What can he do to at least equal her move?

He can't ask Baba to go to bed with him and another guy.

That wouldn't be right.

He knows Baba dates other men occasionally...

...just as he dates other girls.

But Baba wouldn't like a suggestion like that.

He spends the day going through ads.

He can't get used to the idea.

How can he be in bed with two girls who...

...quite frankly, don't interest him...

...just so that the neighbor...

...can see him?

Whatever...

...competition they had established...

...perhaps they have reached the limit.

It is impossible to know if she looks satisfied or not.

He hasn't convinced her.

What if she realizes the girls are paid...

...simply because of their enthusiasm?

She'll think it's cheating and she'll be so annoyed...

...there'll be no more telescope sessions.

It seems that she isn't having any visitors tonight.

Is the competition over?

It can't be.

He now feels it is up to him...

...to give the screw another turn.

He spends hours thinking about it.

At midday, he talks to Juan.

He suggests phoning an old girlfriend...

...one who's into trying all kinds of things.

If Juan brings a girl...

As he gets ready, he thinks how awful it would be...

...if the neighbor had a visitor that night...

...and couldn't use the telescope.

Despite the champagne and shellfish...

...it is all less exciting than Morell hoped...

...and more so than he might have believed.

But at least the spectacle had been sincere.

One of these nights, she will have to equal his move at least.

Or has she perhaps decided to admit defeat?

After the first success...

...Juan is keen to repeat the routine every other day.

He keeps going on about it.

Meanwhile Morell, anxious to see...

...if the neighbor will up the bet that night...

...calls Baba to say that he can't see her.

Baba reassures him.

She was about to phone him because she has things to do.

That evening, he goes to the telescope...

...as soon as he gets home.

At 06.45, as always...

...she arrives.

While she strips off...

...she comes out on the balcony...

...and smiles at him.

At about 10.00...

...someone rings at her door.

Today...

...the visitor is Baba.

PASSION

I must talk to you.

May I sit down?

Of course.

I don't know where to start.

At the beginning.

Last month...

...I seduced your wife.

- My wife? - Yes.

Why are you telling me?

Because since then, I've had no life.

Why?

Are you dying of love for her?

Does she not love you?

Do you feel remorse?

She won't leave me alone.

She phones day and night. If I don't answer...

...she comes round, or goes looking for me.

She says...

...she can't live without me.

And...?

I have no peace.

Since I met her, I can't get rid of her for even one day.

Didn't you notice?

When did you meet her?

Six weeks ago.

You were in Rome.

How do you know that?

Don't you believe me? She told me.

I met her on a computer course.

So what do you want?

Help me to get rid of her.

It isn't that I don't like your wife. She's amazing.

She's intelligent, she's sensual.

What am I saying?

- But... - She's very absorbing.

Yes, isn't she?

So you want to get rid of her?

I do, to be quite honest.

She never leaves you alone?

If she sees you're alone, smoking...

...studying, reading the paper...

...or watching your favorite program...

...she immediately comes over and starts smooching with you.

And if you don't make a fuss over her...

...she starts acting in that way of hers.

That's why, even though I have no right...

...I want to ask a favor.

Talk to her.

Make a fuss, say you're jealous, threaten her.

Whatever.

Anything, as long as I don't see her again.

- You really want rid of her? - Yes.

- Please. - It's easy. Do what I do.

Don't run away from her, don't hide.

Be nice to her, gentle, considerate.

Devote yourself to her body and soul.

Phone her.

Tell her you love her more than anyone.

Promise to devote your whole life to her.

Marry her.

COMPENETRATION

Hello?

Hello. It's me.

I told you not to call me at home.

It's just that...

You should call me at the office.

Can you talk?

Of course not. What do you think?

Where is... she?

In the bedroom.

Can she hear you?

But she might come in.

Forgive me.

I'm very sorry.

But I needed to talk to you now. I couldn't wait until tomorrow.

Why?

Because this situation is unbearable.

- What situation? - Ours, of course.

- Let's get this straight. - No, don't say anything.

It isn't necessary. And she might hear you.

No, she can't hear me. Listen.

I think it's time to take a decision.

What decision?

Can't you guess?

I'm not in a mood for riddles.

I have to choose between you and him.

And?

As you can't give me what I want...

Let's not kid ourselves.

For you, I'll never be more than...

You won't leave, will you?

I don't know why I ask. I know the answer.

What's that noise?

I'm calling from a phone booth.

We've been over all this. I've always been honest with you.

I told you how things were.

We get on well, right?

But I'm real crazy about you.

I know you don't feel the same.

And you know I wouldn't hurt you.

I never promised you anything, did I?

- It's you who has to decide. - Yes.

Didn't I always say that you had to decide?

Yes.

That's why I'm calling.

I've taken a decision.

I've always played fair.

What did you decide?

I've decided...

...to stop seeing you.

I'm sorry, but if it's what you really...

Don't you realize I don't want to stop seeing you?

Maria, come on.

I'd rather you said nothing.

Well, I'd choose a car that gave a better performance.

What?

Especially if you'll be driving a lot.

Yes.

Of course, I understand.

But I really don't know what to advise.

In any case, I think you need a car with much more...

...with much more...

Yes, I agree, but that uses a lot more gas.

- Can't you talk? - Obviously not.

- Is she close by? - Yes.

In front of you?

Yes, but there's no price difference...

...between that model and the Japanese...

...and the Japanese...

She's there, and I'm here, not knowing what to do.

Unable to decide to finish this now.

The best is four doors. For you, four doors.

You see? There's no alternative. We can't go on like this.

We can't even have a civilized conversation.

That uses over a gallon.

You're talking about cars, gas, four doors, and I can't decide...

...whether to hang up.

Just a minute.

She says...

Tell Luisa that Ana says the cake was perfect.

Who does she think you're talking to?

Well, I'll see you soon.

Will I hang up or...?

Before I hang up, can we meet tomorrow?

Yes.

I'm hopeless. I call you to finish it all...

...and end up asking about tomorrow.

- In the usual place? - Yes.

- At the usual time? - Exactly.

- And will we do the usual? - Yes.

I can see you kneeling in front of me...

...lifting up my skirt.

Will you lick me?

Will you bite me?

Will you make me suffer a lot?

Yes.

Christ, Maria! She almost caught me.

She might come back in again. What if she wants to talk to you?

Talk to me?

No, not to you, to the person she thinks I'm talking to.

Nobody could understand you.

And nobody could understand me. I don't understand me.

I'm desperate. I decide to finish...

...but when I hear you I can't do it.

I'd really like to be with you now.

Come round. Can't you?

Of course you can't.

It doesn't matter.

At least I can hear you, and that reassures me.

- Do you love me? - Of course I do.

I'd better hang up. Good-bye.

Where are you?

In a bar, I told you.

You said a booth.

- Lf you knew that, why ask? - Because you're in a bar.

Or that's what you say now.

- A bar, a booth, it's the same. - It isn't the same.

- Cut it out! - Now what will you do?

Now? You mean about us?

No, right now. Will you see a movie? Go to a drama class?

I'm going to hang up.

- Wait a minute. - Really!

I sometimes think that, if we wanted...

...things could work out differently between us...

...without so much tension.

- Well, yes. - Yes what?

Yes.

What's wrong? Can't you talk? Is there someone there?

Yes.

You were to meet him and he's arrived.

Or he's standing there. Yes or no? What?

I'll let you have the book back soon, Nina.

What's going on?

- You called me Nina. - So long.

Call me. And remind me about the book.

No, don't hang up now.

I had to listen to you when I could only talk nonsense.

I don't know that one. What's the title?

Perfect. You do it very well. Now you'll say the title, right?

Yeah.

That "yeah" is very good.

It makes your conversation with this supposed "girl" more real.

"Love in the Afternoon", is that the title?

Is that title a hint?

An invitation?

"One Hundred Crosses" was better than "Love in the Afternoon".

For me, anyway.

I've never read that. Is it a novel?

"The Hundred Crosses" boring?

I told you already. That one uses less gas...

...than the other.

But the heroine of "Love in the Afternoon" is more realistic.

Why didn't a firm like Peugeot foresee a case like that?

This is getting like...

..."Tit for Tat", or am I mistaken?

- Not at all. - Well then?

Nothing.

See how there's no solution? Now I can talk again.

Got nothing to say?

Have you run out of steam?

Or do you want to move on from automobiles?

- I'm alone too. - Well, good-bye.

You're right. It's better.

- I've something to tell you. - What?

I'm pregnant.

Did you hear?

I'm pregnant by you.

By me? How do you know it's mine?

Since my last period I've only been with you!

And the boyfriend who can give you all that I can't?

I'm sorry.

- What will you do? - What will I do?

- Have you nothing to say? - Me? No.

Now I've discovered how you really are.

Now I know that if I'm ever in that situation...

...you'll dump me.

What do you mean, "if I'm ever"?

It means, obviously, that I'm not pregnant.

Do you think I'm stupid?

I just wondered how you'd react in that situation.

Do you think that if I were really pregnant...

...I'd ask you what I should do?

Listen, Maria.

What? Listen to what?

You know I can't stand you speaking to me like that.

Really?

I'll slap your face.

Yes?

Really hard.

Yes.

Until you scream.

Yes.

I'll tie you to the bed.

Yes, yes.

I'll spit on you.

Yes.

I'll slap your cheeks until they bleed.

Yes, yes.

I'll make you...

What?

I'll make you...

What?

I'll fill your mouth.

And I'll make you swallow it all.

You won't spill one drop.

Not one.

Not one, I said!

Lick that one on your lower lip.

Slut! Call me a slut!

Slut! Kneel down and open your mouth.

That's enough.

I'll tell you, whatever may happen.

It's ridiculous to go on like this. Listen to me.

I'm not Maria.

What do you mean?

I'm not Maria, that's what I mean. Maria is...

Maria asked me to phone you and pretend that I was her.

Are you kidding me?

- She had to go away and wanted... - Go away? Where to?

Out of town.

She wanted you to think she was here and not...

She's...

I can't keep on pretending.

Look, Maria and I met at drama class.

I'm at the Theater Institute too.

She asked me to call and do everything to pick a fight...

...because you've a date tomorrow and she won't be back.

- Do you hear me? - Where is she?

She's gone for a week, with a boyfriend.

- Who with? - With Jaume.

- With Jaume? - Yes.

What Jaume?

Jaume lbarra.

But I'm Jaume Ibarra.

Who do you think I am? What number did you call?

- You're Jaume? - Yes.

Christ!

- Who did you think I was? - Juan.

Juan?

You mean Maria and Juan...

- I know, I mixed up the numbers. - Why have you got my number?

Maria wrote down the two numbers...

...one above the other, and I mixed them up.

I rang one instead of the other.

Why did she write mine if you weren't to call me?

Or were you?

But you thought she'd gone with me.

- You won't believe me. - Tell me something.

- What's your name? - Carme.

- Carme, tell me something. - Just a minute.

Are you really Jaume?

Jaume doesn't live with anybody.

It's Juan who's married.

Why did you talk about your wife?

You...

...aren't exactly truth personified.

If you thought you were talking to Maria...

...why pretend you lived with a woman?

At times, Maria and I, not so much recently...

...we do things like that. It's a game.

She never told me.

Should she have? Do you tell everything?

Almost.

Really?

Things about me?

What does that mean?

It means that she tells me the interesting things.

In full detail?

In full detail and very explicitly.

- Where are you? - In a bar.

- Not in a booth? - Give over about the booth!

- What will you do now? - You asked me that.

When you were Maria.

Now that you're Carme, you might do something else.

And when you were Maria, you didn't tell me.

Why don't we meet?

- When? - Today?

Can it be at night? I have a class.

- All right, at night. - Where?

In the Ritz bar?

- All right. - At 8.00?

My class finishes at 8.00. Make it 8.30.

How will I know you?

I'll wear the leather jacket you gave her a month before...

The leather jacket.

A month before what?

The jacket I gave her a month before what?

- I have to tell you. - Go on, then.

Maria is dead.

You gave her the jacket a month before she died.

Listen.

I shouldn't have...

I knew you loved each other. When Maria died, I decided...

...the class decided...

This is a sick joke.

We can talk later. At 8.30, right?

Or I could skip class.

- I saw her last week. - She died five months ago.

I've seen her in these five months.

I was with her last week, She was alive, she was no ghost.

For five months you've been seeing a Maria who isn't Maria.

According to you, who was being Maria?

I was.

- I would have noticed. - It's the truth.

Then why didn't you want to keep our date tomorrow?

I'm sick of being Maria.

But yet you've just agreed to meet.

Because I'll go as Carme, not Maria.

Jaume, I'll explain later.

Why didn't you realize I was Jaume and not Juan?

You think I didn't know?

Of course you're Jaume. I know you perfectly.

You've been my boyfriend for five months. That's a long time.

Enough for me to know...

...that I've fallen in love with you.

I want to end this farce.

Don't give me that!

How come I never noticed, those times you say we met...

...that you weren't Maria?

Remember, I study acting.

Come off it!

Are you trying to say I wouldn't see the difference?

All I need now is the story of the twin sister.

Although...

...Maria has...

...had a twin sister.

Me.

I never saw her.

Of course you did.

I mean, of course you saw me.

Several times a week for five months.

Some weeks, only once. We must talk about that.

I want to see you more often.

Shall we meet as arranged? At 8.30?

Are you really Carme?

At 8.30, all right?

Yes.

I love you very much.

If you ever left me, I would die.

EGO

You don't listen to me.

You don't listen.

You always talk about you.

You only care about yourself. What I say doesn't matter.

You don't care about what I am or think or do.

You really think I only talk about myself?

This is the second time we've gone out...

...and you haven't asked anything about me.

Christ!

You're very odd.

- But don't get so upset. - No, I'm really sorry.

It's unforgivable that I didn't ask about you...

...or what you're doing.

It was an effort to ask if you lived on your own.

And when I did ask...

...it was to know if we could go to your place...

...or if we'd have to go to an hotel...

...or stay in the car on a quiet road.

I feel like a creep...

...a really despicable guy.

It's true, I don't care about people.

I've fallen so low, I feel ridiculous.

I, who considered myself humane, sensitive...

...different from those who only think of themselves.

It's just...

You're right! I always talk about me!

I hadn't realized. It's horrible.

It's totally detestable behavior.

I really mean that.

I want you to believe me. I'm not lying.

I'm not saying it just to please you.

It must be hard to put up with somebody...

...who only talks about himself.

I couldn't bear someone like that.

But you can't say I haven't been honest.

I've been honest with you.

I feel confused. I can't deny what you say.

You're right.

I always talk as if I was the only one who mattered.

I'm horrified to find I'm like that.

I used to be different. I was interested in other people.

I'm sure I was.

I'd like to know when I stopped caring about other people.

I'd like to know what made me into an egoist.

I'd like to care about people again.

And I'd really like to stop being like this with you.

No, don't laugh.

You really interest me.

I need you to help me find out when I behave like that.

And why I do it.

I'd like to talk about it.

SPITE

In their final year, Grmpf is in love with Piti...

...and Piti with Grmpf.

But Piti is both shy and proud and doesn't tell Grmpf.

And Grmpf finally decides he isn't in love with her.

So, with a great effort, she tries to forget him.

She has a terrible time, for she really loves him...

...but at last she half forgets him.

Especially when she meets X avi and becomes interested in him.

This suits X avi...

...because he's ready to cling to anything.

He has just split up with Mari and is very lonely.

With the speed of those anxious to bury the past...

...X avi and Grmpf marry right away.

When Piti finds out, he is devastated.

He realizes that he was madly in love with Grmpf.

When X avi goes off to work...

...Piti waits at her door and, when he gets the chance...

...goes in.

Grmpf opens the door...

...and is amazed to see Piti on one knee...

...declaring his love.

Her heart is in turmoil, she is about to hesitate...

...but she is strong, and she tells him...

...it's too late.

Piti is silent...

...stands up and goes off...

...not wanting her to see him crying.

Meanwhile, on his way to work, X avi has met Mari.

What an encounter!

One look is enough to show they shouldn't have split up.

They embrace and swear...

...eternal love.

But Mari is worried.

She doesn't believe he can know so quickly...

...that he loves her and not Grmpf.

X avi insists that she's the one he loves.

To prove it, he goes home while Grmpf is out...

...packs his case...

...and leaves a note explaining everything...

...and apologizing.

When Grmpf arrives home...

...she sees...

...the note...

...and is in despair.

What an idiot she was not to accept Piti!

She opens a bottle of vodka.

She drinks it all.

This gives her courage.

To say she's reconsidered and that she loves him...

...she calls Piti.

At the other end of the line, silence.

Finally, Piti clears his throat and speaks.

He tells her it is too late, because when she said no...

...he was so heart-broken, he at once began the process...

...of denigration, and as he is very quick...

...in minutes he has destroyed his good opinion of himself.

And he has transformed the love he had felt for her.

Now all he feels is hate.

A hate so intense he can...

...easily live without her.

Still holding the receiver, Grmpf cries.

She gets a fever.

Suddenly her temperature soars to 39.2�.

The next day she doesn't go to work.

That evening, Toni appears with a bunch of flowers.

He works in the office with her...

...and has come to find out how she is feeling.

Later, Grmpf realizes that behind the interest...

...and behind the flowers, is a spark of love.

But the time is wrong. She can only think of X avi...

...until the wound heals.

The wound heals.

Grmpf recovers completely...

...and Toni persists. He takes her out for walks.

He takes her to dinner, to the cinema.

He'd like a bit more.

But she always makes it clear they can only be good friends.

Toni settles for that.

He is very understanding.

He understands that Grmpf is still emotionally fragile.

Every Saturday, after a movie or a meal...

...he leaves her at the door with a kiss on the cheek.

Poor Toni.

Then, one day...

...Toni meets Anni.

It's what they call...

...love at first sight.

They get involved at once, and Toni stops seeing Grmpf.

Grmpf, annoyed, decides that Toni isn't seeing her...

...because he wanted to go to bed with her...

...and she wouldn't let him.

There's the proof. As she isn't easy...

...no more hypocrisy of dinner, movies, and that phrase of his.

"I don't mind. I understand that you're still hurt."

"I don't mind if we don't go to bed. Really."

Hypocrite.

In revenge, Grmpf starts hanging out in bars again.

She picks up the first guy she meets, a Scot called Eric.

Eric has just arrived from Aberdeen.

He's here for a week to try to forget a girl called...

...Fiona.

DESIRE

As we had to sign some papers...

...my husband and I, married for eight years...

...had to go a far-off city.

We arrived in the afternoon.

As we had to do our business the next day...

...we looked for an hotel.

They gave us a room with two single beds...

...two bedside tables, a desk to write at.

And there were envelopes...

...and writing paper with the hotel's name, in a folder.

A chair, and a mini-bar with a television on top.

We had dinner, walked by the river...

...and then, back at the hotel, we each got into our own bed...

...and opened a book.

A few minutes later...

...we heard people fucking in the next room.

We could hear the squeaking of the mattress...

...the groans of the woman and the shouts of the man.

We looked at each other, smiled...

...made some joke about it...

...said good night and switched off the light.

My husband...

...aroused by the fucking which we could still hear...

...wanted to say something.

Maybe he thought I was as aroused as he was.

He could have come over, sat on the bed...

...joked about the people next door...

...and, very casually...

...stroked my hair and face, and then my breasts.

I would probably have gone along with him.

But what if I didn't?

...he must have thought.

What if I pushed his hand away and clicked my tongue?

Or, worse still...

...said I didn't feel like it.

Years ago he wouldn't have doubted.

He'd have known, before switching off the light, if I felt like it.

If the groans from the next room had aroused me or not.

But with the cobwebs of years, nothing was clear.

My husband rolled on his side and masturbated...

...trying not to make any noise.

Ten minutes later, I asked if he was asleep.

He said he wasn't.

Next door, the groaning had stopped.

We could hear a whispered conversation...

...and muffled laughter.

I got up and went over to his bed.

I pulled the sheets back...

...lay down beside him, and began to stroke his back.

My hand slid down to his buttocks.

Lacking the courage to tell me he had just masturbated...

...my husband said he didn't feel like it.

I stopped stroking him.

There was a brief silence, which lasted a long time.

Then I went back to my bed, pulled back the sheets...

...got in and tossed around.

My husband summoned his courage, turned to me...

...and confessed that he had just masturbated...

...because he thought I wouldn't want to fuck.

I didn't say anything.

Minutes later my husband knew...

...from my dissimulated groans...

...that I was masturbating.

My husband felt a great sadness.

He thought that life was grotesque and unfair.

And he started to cry.

He cried into his pillow, burying his face.

The tears were abundant and hot.

And when he heard me stifle the final groan...

...against my hand...

...he cried out with a cry...

...which was the cry that I was biting back.

JEALOUS Y

I like it so much.

I like it so much.

I like it so much.

I like it so much.

I like your dick so much.

I like your dick so much.

I like your dick so much.

Why do you always say that?

Ever since we met, you've said it countless times.

But you never say you like my arms or my shoulder blades.

It's always the same thing. The dick.

But you have a beautiful dick.

You have a mania about it.

Is that all you like about me?

What about me?

You never say you like me.

That dedication used to satisfy me.

It was tender and exciting.

Like when I used to tell you I liked being in your cunt.

But it has gradually become an obsession.

I know it's true that you like my dick.

I see it in your eyes, in how you look at it...

...in the rhythm of your words...

...in the way you emphasize the word "much".

Muuuch.

Even asleep, you cling on to it.

- What are you doing? - I like it so much.

You like it so much?

Yes.

I like your dick so much.

The same old story.

Would you love me without it?

What's up with you?

What do you think?

You only talk about the dick.

About "your" dick.

You never say you like me.

You're crazy!

You're crazy, Onan!

I'm not crazy! But I exist too!

Don't you think so?

I exist too! I exist too!

Don't you think so?

LO VE

The librarian at the Zoological Museum...

...is a tall woman endowed with...

...striking features.

She is intelligent, amusing...

...and has what people call character.

The American football player...

...is a tall man, endowed with striking features.

He is intelligent, amusing...

...and has what people call character.

The librarian treats the footballer...

...with contempt. She is dry and indifferent.

Sometimes, when he calls her...

...for he always calls her...

...she nevers calls him...

...even though she has nothing to do...

No, I can't see you today.

I'm sorry.

I let him think I have other lovers...

...so he doesn't get ideas.

At times I think about it.

Not a lot, I don't want to realize that I'm wrong.

And I think I treat him with contempt...

...because deep down I love him...

...and if I didn't treat him like that...

...I'd end up loving him as much as he loves me.

When the librarian decides to sleep with him...

...the footballer can't believe it...

...and cries with joy, as with no other woman.

Why am I crying? I don't know.

I think it isn't just because you treat me so contemptuously.

No, that isn't the decisive factor.

The footballer knows that she loves him.

He knows that she acts tough so that she won't end up...

...loving him as much as he loves her.

The footballer would like...

I'd like her to treat me with at least a bit less contempt.

That way, she'd see, on one hand...

...that it's possible to have another kind of relationship...

...and, on the other, she needn't be afraid of loving me.

I'd love her tenderness too.

The tenderness she is afraid to show.

Sometimes the footballer dates other women.

He thinks he can't take any more.

He can't bear to be treated like an object...

...to be ignored...

...to be used and then cast aside.

But he always comes back.

And it isn't that other women don't interest him.

They're terrific, pretty, intelligent and thoughtful.

But none of them please him as she does.

One day, one afternoon...

...while she is doing her nails, smoking...

...and watching him undress, the footballer...

...plucks up courage.

You shouldn't be so dry, so surly.

I love you so much you needn't be afraid to show how you are.

I won't exploit your weakness.

If you are gentle, and I know you pretend that you aren't...

...I'll love you more.

And who are you to tell me what I must or mustn't do?

That afternoon, the footballer enjoyed it more than ever.

But the next time they meet...

...she isn't as grim-faced as she usually is.

The footballer is surprised.

Maybe she thought about it and decided that he was right.

From then on, the librarian is tender.

The American football player is very happy.

Now I know I had nothing to fear.

Showing you how I really am...

...won't hurt me, will it?

The footballer is so happy...

...every gesture, every caress, moves him.

He finds special pleasure in every touch.

There is such tenderness he doesn't want to screw.

It is enough to embrace and declare their love.

She says it to him now...

...all the time.

I love you.

I love you.

The librarian never again treats him with contempt.

She is so in love with him...

...she tells him so, morning, evening and night.

She gives him books.

She gives him shirts.

She gives compact discs.

She gives him jewelry.

He has her when he wants.

Now it is the librarian who calls, more and more...

...to meet every day.

My love.

How are you?

And suddenly, one night, she suggests it.

Would you like us to live together?

The footballer looks at her coldly, with glazed eyes.

Until recently, he'd have given his right arm...

...to have her suggest that.

FAITH

Yes. Faith.

Maybe you don't love me.

I love you.

How do you know?

I don't know. I note it, I feel it.

How do you know that what you feel is that you love me?

I love you because you're different from all other women.

I love you as I've never loved and never will love anyone else.

I love you more than myself. I'd lay down my life for you.

I'd let them tear off my skin in strips.

I'd let you play with my eyes as if they were marbles.

You could throw me in a sea of bleach.

I love you very much.

I love every fold in your body.

I just need to look in your eyes to be happy.

I see myself reflected in your pupils, so tiny.

You really mean it?

Oh, Raul!

If I knew that you really loved me.

That I could believe you.

That you're not fooling yourself, and me.

Do you really love me?

Yes, I love you as I never loved anyone.

And would even if you rejected me or didn't want to see me.

I'd love you in silence, secretly.

I'd wait until you left work, just to see you from a distance.

How can you doubt I love you?

How can I not doubt it?

What real proof do I have that you do?

You say you love me. But those are just words, conventions.

I know that I love you very much.

But how can I be certain that you love me?

By looking into my eyes.

Can't you see in them that I love you?

Look into my eyes.

Do you think they could fool you?

You disappoint me.

I disappoint you?

You can't love me very much if I disappoint you so easily.

And you still ask why I doubt your love?

I love you. Do you hear me?

I love you.

"I love you." It's very easy to say!

Will I kill myself to prove it?

Don't be melodramatic. I don't like it.

You've lost your patience.

If you really loved me, you wouldn't do that.

I haven't lost anything. Let me ask you a question.

What would show you that I loved you?

I can't say, it should come from you.

Things aren't as easy as they seem.

- Maybe I should believe you. - You have to believe me!

But why?

How can I know you're not fooling me?

You could even be sure you love me...

...and say you do.

But without you knowing it, you don't really love me.

You could be mistaken.

I don't think you're being dishonest.

I think that when you say you love me, you believe it.

But if you're mistaken?

What if what you feel for me isn't love...

...but affection or something similar.

How do you know it's really love?

Give me a break.

Do forgive me!

I only know that I love you and I'm sick of your questions.

Maybe you don't love me.

EPILOGUE. DOUBT

Mushrooms.

Cepes.

Morells.

Amanites.

Honey mushrooms.

Cepes, morells, amanites.

Toadstools!

Poisonous.

Good day.

I am the lucky gnome.

I appear out of certain broken toadstools.

You're a lucky man.

Only one toadstool...

...in every thousand has a lucky gnome. Make a wish...

...and I'll grant it.

That's only in stories!

It happens in real life too.

Go on, make a wish. I'll grant it.

- I can't believe it! - You'll believe it.

Make a wish and you'll see. Whatever you ask...

...no matter how impossible, I'll grant it to you.

How can I, if I don't believe you can grant whatever I ask?

Here is a little man with a white beard...

...with a red cap and boot with bells, and you don't believe it?

Come on, make a wish.

What should I ask for? Wealth?

Women?

Health?

Happiness?

Ask for tangible things. Nothing abstract.

If you want riches, ask for an amount of gold...

...or a palace, or a certain kind of business.

If you want women, specify which ones.

If your wish makes you happy or not...

...is your business.

Tangible things?

A mansion!

A Range Rover!

An airline!

Claudia Schiffer! Julia Roberts!

The throne of a Balkan country?

I can't wait forever.

I should have said, you have five minutes to decide...

...and three are gone already.

- Look, I want... - What do you want? Tell me!

I think it's awful to have to choose so quickly.

On a unique occasion like this, you need time to decide.

I can't pick the first thing I think of.

90 seconds.

Maybe I should ask for money.

A specific amount.

A thousand billion pesetas, for example.

With a thousand billion, I could have everything!

And why not 10 thousand? 100 thousand billion?

Or a trillion?

I can't decide on an amount.

In a situation like this, so charged with magic...

...talking of money seems rather vulgar...

...not subtle or ingenious.

One minute.

If I asked for power?

33 seconds.

- It's unfair to do this to me. - 15 seconds.

A trillion! A million trillions? A trillion trillions?

- You have four seconds. - Not money.

This wish needs something more sophisticated...

...more intelligent.

2 seconds.

Come on!

I want a gnome like you.

Good day to you.

I am the lucky gnome. I appear out of certain toadstools...

...when they break up.

You're a lucky man.

Only one toadstool in every thousand has a lucky gnome.

Make a wish and I'll grant it.

- Come on. - It's hard to decide.

The five minutes you have for deciding have started.

I can always ask for another gnome like you.

But that wouldn't solve the anguish...

...of not really knowing what I want.