Original subtitles

For Margarida Gil.

Paulo Branco presents

a film by Joao Cesar Monteiro

THE SPOUSALS OF GOD

Actors:

Rita Durao

Joao Cesar Monteiro

Joana Azevedo

Jose Airosa

Manuela de Freitas

Luis Miguel Cintra

Ana Velazquez

Jose Mora Ramos

Fernando Mora Ramos

Fernando Heitor

Joao Listz

Jean Douchet

Production manager: Joaquim Carvalho

Sound and editing: Joaquim Pinto

Cinematography: Mario Barroso

Chief electrician: Vitor Miranda

Key grip: Paulo Miranda

Costumes: Silvia Grabowsky

Set: Alfredo Furiga

Editing: Jean-Francois Auger

I am the Envoy of God.

Am I to be called?

Those are not my instructions. You' re too old.

I will be dust, but dust in Iove.

I was ordered to give you this briefcase

containing a Iarge sum of money.

How much?

We don't deal in details. You're as rich as Croesus.

You can buy whatever you want.

- And have whims? - The most extravagant ones.

To overthrow governments?

From now on, you're the most powerful man on earth.

You don't have to answer to anyone.

Don't I even have to Iight a candle to my benefactor?

Not at all...

There is no need to show gratitude.

In that case I think I'II take the briefcase.

- Is the cash in dollars? - You can exchange it for marcs.

They won't fluctuate so much.

I think so too.

But what the hell...!

Let me die, good sir.

You're joking, after the trouble you've given me.

I've come to Ieave this child in your care, sisters.

Praise our Lord.

Give her chicken broth and plenty of rest.

Sisters, Iet us praise our Lord, Saviour of this unfortunate child.

In the implacable and selfish world we Iive in,

those who still care about the suffering of their equals are rare,

risking their own Iives.

No pneumonia gets me.

What's your name, my good man?

Joao de Deus (John of God).

A holy name. Are you a believer?

It's not a questions of belief, it's a question of trust

God is obscure.

Thanks to your good deed,

the angels and the seraphins rejoice in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Mother, don't turn a Iittle aquatic impulse

into a celestial orgy.

Here, take a hundred escudos.

But don't spend it all on wine.

God bless you, Mother Superior, for these holy alms.

May God be with you.

Rather alone...

... than in bad company.

Agostinho, here's a hundred dollars but don't spend it all on nuns.

Thank you, my good man.

I'm pleased to see there are still honest people in this world.

The sisters of Charity, boom! Have a hole in their arse, boom!

That the Holy Priest gave them, boom! With the key to the trunk, boom!

OIive tree on the mountain, the wind carries your flower,...

Oh, my beauty, no one will take me

Oh, my beauty, to be near my sweetheart, boom!

- Is Mother Bernarda in? - Who should I announce?

The Baron of God. Tell her I've moved up a class.

- What about Joana? - A real jewel.

Girls Iike her are few and far between nowadays.

She serves children in the parish canteen

and she also gives us a hand at the convent.

I know you don't believe in miracles,

but I won't forget the day when, trembling with cold,

Joana came to us for the first time.

She Iooked Iike a ghost from a concentration camp.

What force kept her alive?

Transfirguration is wonderful, no doubt about it.

The wonders of God do not cease to surprise us.

Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's, to God that which is God's.

Why don't you go and visit her?

I'd rather not.

You'II be sorry.

Sorry? This isn't exactly a penitenciary comedy.

I'd rather Ieave this donation so that she won't Iack anything

and for works of improvement on the convent.

A heavy rainfall would bring the roof down.

So many banknotes!

Are they not the work of Lucifer?

It is immaculate money. God gets better by the hour.

Be merciful.

I am a woman of Iittle faith.

It's a shame that we cannot celebrate this gift

with one of Joana's well-cooked Portuguese stews.

Home cooking...

Sister, sister,

a Iot you'II be forgiven, if you free me from these temptations!

This delicacy is on the house.

Enjoy.

Are you Iaughing at me?

I'm Iaughing because I'm happy.

BIessed are the meek...

...for they shall inherit...

...the earth..

If that's the way it is, Iet's hope the stew will make one cry for more.

Some smoked sausage, Mother?

BIack pudding.

Joana?

- Would you Iike ice-cream? - No way!

Who knows if we are not on the brink of a new era?

For a Iong time we put up with the era of abandonment.

Perhaps we are entering the era of hospitality.

With the recrudes cence of Fascism snapping at us?

It's gone out.

Damn candle, Mother.

I am going to blaspheme,

but as Stalin used to say, the best fascist is a dead fascist.

I'm going to state an obscenity, Mother,

but as an old friend of mine used to say:

" Three hundred old women in their underwear

and one in front playing the flute.

" Bundle, tumble, and balls in a rumble!"

Joana.

Let us thank Our Lord and Master

for everything he has bestowed on us, accept our Iove...

What about your mother?

My mother died three months ago.

We' re from Piodao. Do you know it?

I've been past it...

We had no one else.

My father Iives in France, but he never wanted anything to do with us.

No place is Iike ours...

When I got to Austerlitz Station, I couldn't speak a work of French.

I wanted to go straight to the 'service d'accueil'

at Saint-Joseph des Nations, but nobody cared.

They shrugged their shoulders and kept grumbling...

Those Parisians do moan a Iot. They're Iike crazy cockroaches.

Finally, I went to the 'onzieme arrondissament'.

I ate some soup and a piece of bread...

and after three days, I found my father's whereabouts.

What does your father do?

He worked at Renault.

Now all he does is drink.

He's in the 'chomage'.

He Iives with another woman by whom he has three other children.

But she's miserable, too. AII she does is cry...

Well slept rough...

I had to pretend I was blind.

BIind?

When I pretended I was blind I really did stop seeing!

I had terrible pains which brought tears to my eyes.

From staring.

Show me.

- And aren't you ashamed? - Yes...

... but what can I do?

My father made me do it.

- That, and worse. - Worse? How?

Must I say it?

I'm old enough to hear certain things...

He made me go with men.

If I refused, he would beat me up.

The moral of the blind is different to ours.

You're a saint,

but I've given you enough trouble already.

Poor thing, you could have frozen to death because of me.

I wouldn't say frozen,

but while digesting a tin of sardines,

I might have had a seizure. And the two of us would have gone.

And worst of all, nobody would miss me.

You're no Ionger alone in the world. I'm going away for a few days.

It's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle

than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

I am a rich man, that is,

deprived of the ethereal seat.

I' m down here rebuilding my Iittle Iife. I've got some things to do.

You are my Iight.

I am a weak candle.

God doesn't sleep.

But I do.

You were, beautiful Ines, Iaid to rest Reaping sweet fruit from your years,

In that glad blind error of the soul, Which fortune does not allow to Iast,

In the Ionging fields of the Mondego, Never dry from the tears in your eyes

Telling the hills and the fields Of the name written on your breast.

Mariano,

book me a flight to Beijing

in the name of Ines Pim.

AIice, what shall I write on the cake?

I don't know...

Good morning, Baron. Did you sleep well?

Like an angel. And how are your kidneys, Bardamu?

A Iittle better, Baron.

Is it because of the water?

When he was in Venice,

the Seigneur de Montaigne also suffered from similar afflictions.

The years eat us up inside...

Your cake Iooks inviting.

Yes, but I'm having some trouble finding something to write on it.

Write what?

Oh, something sweet, a Ioving word...

It's for Princess EIena Gombrowicz. She's really pretty.

She's a real poem.

Who is this Princess?

Prince Omar Raschid's sweetheart.

I don't know him.

A charming man. Living proof that when one is a gentleman,

oil doesn't go to one's head.

I agree entirely, Bardamu.

A dedicated womanizer and gambler. The oil in endless.

And Scheherazade? Has she had it?

They say that she is his great Iove.

Look, Iove is infinite within the reach of Iap dogs.

You are a sceptic, Baron. Do you have children?

Where?

"Vita vixit."

Behold the offering of a free man written on the cake.

Thank you, Baron. Enjoy your stroll.

I've heard a Iot about you, my dear Baron.

Your reputation has reached me,

dear Prince Omar Raschid.

A Thousand and One Nights, do you know it?

Did my wish to meet you intrigue you?

Curiosity is reciprocal and natural in children and wise men.

I imagine you know of my inclinations...

There are rumours... It's the price of glory.

Do you enjoy gambling?

I rarely gamble, but I admit it fascinates me.

It terrifies me.

It's Iike a fire which devours me

and from which I wish to be freed, to be purified.

It's funny...

What attracts me is entering into the vice

and diving headlong into it, to the end.

Pay to see, as they say in poker.

What does one need to pay to see everything?

Only God can see everything.

It's the fundamental principle of tragedy.

He who plays against God is condemned to Iose without redemption.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained...

Meanwhile, to restrain the ambition that kills the villain,

I am pleased to accept a game of poker,

should you accept the hospitality of a friendly house as is yours.

I know your country.

Good people, easy-going.

I have already cleaned out Estoril...

Omar, don't frighten me...

Unfortunately, my country is not Iike yours; convulsions are permanent.

Treat them with a good elixir. It's a sure remedy.

It's not so simple, but Iet's not talk about it.

What are the stakes?

No Iimit?

Abandon all hope, ye who enter Paradise.

Princess EIena Gombrowicz.

My dear princess. Did you have a good journey?

We have crossed the uncrossable river.

How pleasant it is not to feel guided by the tug-boats anymore.

One can't ask for anything better,

except for some howling Redskins not taking us for their targets.

The river Iet me get off where I wanted to.

It dates from the 1 6th century, Iike most of the palace,

although there are still some traces of earliers constructions.

Look, the bust of one of its first owners,

the bastard son of Dom Afonso de AIbuquerque,

one of viceroys of India.

Vasconcelos, go collect these good people's Iuggage.

This is Celestina, a young student of archaeology,

in charge of the excavations being carried out

in the oldest part of the palace.

A Iegend says that a Hindu treasure

is buried somewhere, and, in fact,

we have already found some maravedis. Celestina not only plays harpsichord,

speaks French and is at your entire disposal,

but will also take you to your rooms.

Besides this, if you so wish,

she will be a better guide than myself around the palace.

Enjoy your rest. We'II meet again at dinner time.

Tell Gertrudes not to give the scraps to Vasconcelos' dog.

Leftovers for Iunch tomorrow. As usual.

Delicious.

PIease excuse these remarks on household economy.

Make yourself at home, my dear Baron.

It's got sediment, Vasconcelos.

- Shall I bring another bottle? - Don't bother.

I can tell that in your hands decanting will always be "sui generis".

PIease excuse these instructions to the servants.

How I understand you, my dear Baron.

This dessert is delicious.

Convent fare.

Should you be interested, our cook will give you the recipe.

Cuisine is not my forte.

Ah, Princess, it is, on the contrary, my weak point.

However, as you haven't been served,

we would be Iead to believe you are not a sweet tooth.

Before poker I am a true anchorite.

I've finished.

Let's have coffee.

Is it true that garlic Ieads to chastity?

Only a vampire could give you an exact answer, Princess.

And do vampires still exist?

Never on a night Iike this, my dear.

Never serve one who has served. You may go.

A digestive?

Only in bed, before going to sleep.

- And you? - Certainly.

Tobacco is my only stimulant.

What time will you finish?

Shall we set a time Iimit?

At daybreak, when the cock crows. Do you agree?

I would Iove to watch the Iast hand.

In that case, your beauty will announce the dawn.

We'II do without the cock crow.

What if I don't wake up?

We shall wait for you shall we not?

It'II be better if you retired so you'II be as fresh as a rose.

I Ieave you my rose.

The one who takes the first king deals.

A thousand.

I' m in.

I'II stop at five thousand.

I'm in.

Another twenty thousand.

Pass.

The first corn is for the sparrows.

A thousand.

I'm in.

Another three thousand.

Another ten thousand.

Another ten thousand.

That ten thousand plus two hundred thousand.

I'm in.

Naughty...

- Did you sleep well, my dear? - I slept wonderfully.

The Iast hand.

- Shall we up the stakes, Omar? - What do you propose?

My fortune is a thousand times greater than what's at stake.

More or Iess.

But it is an astounding amount! My Iiquid assets wouldn't be enough.

If I Iose what's on the table,

it will provoke financial rumblings as it is...

... and, who knows? A drop in oil prices...

I don't understand any of that.

Economy goes crazy over a paltry amount.

Omar is a very sensitive person.

He cries because of a scratch.

Be good and shut up.

The Baron's proposal is tempting, but it requires reflection.

This will do some damage...

Do you think I can't handle pain?

It smells of human flesh.

It's a bitter smell.

I don't know if I Iike it.

It was an irresponsible act.

I offer you my apologies.

What would you say to my oil wells?

Nothing. I don't want the Americans after me.

And my palaces?

One of them, a jewel of Islamic architecture,

has a harem with one hundred concubines...

Beautiful, every single one. Hand picked.

And who will feed all those Iittle mouths?

There is no place Iike home, no matter what they say.

Deal, Omar, and Iet's Ieave things as they are.

One hundred thousand.

Five hundred thousand.

I'm in.

Two million.

That's six million.

Twelve million.

Twenty million.

My hand.

You have a jack and a ten...

It's the best hand.

I'm not here to cheat anyone. I'm a classic.

If a full house comes out with your trio...

... or why not a run?

You win.

Otherwise, you Iose.

Obviously I'II show my hand.

Three queens.

Queen flush. Turn over the other two cards.

If it doubles...

The fortune of some is the ruin of others.

King flush. God gets better by the hour.

It's one of those days...

GIory to the victor, honour to the vanquished...

Lucky at cards...

... unlucky in Iove.

If I played, it wouldn't be for money.

Some play for beans.

Those who play for money,

assume money is the most important thing in Iife.

Not necessarily.

One can only play with what one has.

Would you bet me?

If you were mine, probably not.

I am a free woman.

And you, Omar?

There is no greater proof of Iove than that dictated by renouncing.

For a woman,

to be chosen by the casting of dice, is the most precious gift.

Rare are those who have savoured it.

I played and was played, I enjoyed and was enjoyed...

Oh yes, yes. Well played and well enjoyed.

A Iegend, unknown to Homer, mentions the kidnapping of the fair Helen,

the one who, Iater on, caused the Trojan war,

by Theseus and his friend Pirithous

when, still a virgin,

she was offering a sacrifice to Artemis in the temple of Lacedaemon.

Before Ieaving for the Underworld in order to capture Persephone,

Theseus and Pirithous drew Iots for her.

And which of the two heroes won the fair Helen?

Theseus, of course.

Having obtained the first fruit of the nubile beauty's hymen

must have helped him in his future combat with the Minotaur.

I want you to draw Iots for me, too.

AII that I possess is not worth a single hair of your head.

AII that I possess is already yours.

No pity for the vanquished.

The poor vanquished.

What time?

At five p. m..

At exactly five p. m.

What a terrible hour it will be.

- Agreed? - Agreed.

Catrina's Iovebirds will fly hand in hand

back to their farm in... - Princess, what are you doing there?

Taking my first steps in archaelogical research.

Hesitant ones?

The Princess is highly talented...

I don't doubt it.

One only needs to have eyes.

What is that at your feet? It Iooks Iike a bracelet.

This? It's a chicken bone.

We'II never get anywhere at this rate.

I've come to help.

Omar is resting. Shouldn't you do the same before the decisive game?

I can't concentrate.

I'm all ears...

In half an hour, next to the Rape of Europe. UItra-secret.

I can't wait. I have already flown there...

You may damage irreparably something precious of you' re not careful.

I take full responsibility.

I couldn't care Iess about breaking one jug or another.

If the treasure is precious, shovels and picks may rain down!

Call the fire brigade!

EIena!

Before the dice decide your fate,

I'd Iike to express, to you, my Princess,

my profound gratitude for having granted me this encounter.

It is with great pleasure that I Iisten to you...

For a short while I was afraid,

given your confidential nature,

that you might have a natural reticence.

Not at all, my dear Baron. I am a simple woman who Ioves secrets.

And could you forgive a poor mortal for the human weakness,

the fruit of despair, of wanting to cheat destiny?

And what would our Iives be, tormented by remorse?

I forgive you because it pains me to see you in this state

and it is up to women to forgive.

But Omar, can he forgive us?

We' re not on equal footing.

Omar has a great advantage over me.

Omar is a prodigious Iover. He gets up to twenty.

A year?

A day.

He's good...

Don't be upset because of this;

there are many ways to court a woman.

Do you think it was a whim of fate that I agreed to be played for?

Keep calm and have faith.

Faith I have.

My problem is that fate is against me.

I will pray for you, my dear.

EIena, my Iove, we know each other so Iittle...

Biblically?

In every way and manner.

My Iittle fool!

One has to begin somewhere!

The burning bush!

What is it my dear? An attack of epilepsy?

No.

A hard-on.

Do you know the Biblical theme?

Chaste Susan and the old men.

If I'm not mistaken it is a Greek supplement to the Book of Daniel.

Indeed.

The motif was taken from an engraving by Aneias Vicus.

It is a tile panel from the transition of the Mudejar tradition

and the modernity of the Italian Quattrocento.

This one depicted the SIaughter of the Centaurs at the wedding of Hippodamia.

The savagery that then ensued must have seemed too Iicentious to him.

Let us savour this peace.