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I want to tell you part of my life.

It has to do with you.

Later I may...

not feel like telling it.

I'm a...

survivor,

and this is my story.

LAST IMAGES OF THE SHIPWRECK

How many of us will be the chosen ones?

Or have they already been picked out?

And here there are only those sentenced

to gloomy days,

to meaningless deaths,

to second-rate wakes with bored relatives
who have long been expecting our death.

Where did we go wrong?

Where was the flaw?

How many in that car

would still believe in salvation?

A lottery ticket...

a great robbery,

a brilliant invention.

Oh God! Anything,

except that passiveness
which led us to the slaughterhouse.

I begged for just a word.

To spark that great novel, which would
save me from a death so certain,

so correct.

Why doing it?

Who told you I would?

You were too close to the edge.

How about some coffee?

Roberto.

Estela.

Instead of coffee...

couldn't we have something to eat,
even pizza?

You know something?

I saw you coming and

for a second was afraid you'd push me.

You thought I'd kill you?

But you didn't do anything.

I bet you wouldn't do it.

Are you going to eat that?

No. Would you like some?

I'd take it for my kittens.

Sure, we'll tell the waiter.

Estela,

are you in some trouble?

No.

Life, like everybody else.

Do you work?

When I can.

Are you without a job now?

Not right now.

I found you.

You paid for my meal.

Don't worry. I know my obligations.
We can leave now.

Where to?

Some hotel.

If you prefer your car, I don't mind.

So it was all a show.

You never considered jumping.

No.

I do it only when there are lots of men.

Someone always saves my life.

What if nobody does?

It's a bet.

Anyway, I could stop in time.

You believe?

It's a new take on the oldest profession.

Are you always so direct?

No.

Usually I don't waste my time
telling this.

Somebody could kill me.

But with you...

I don't know.

I felt the need to tell.

I think you'll pay the bill and leave.

You don't want to sleep with me.

What do you do for a living?
You look like a nice guy.

I'm an insurance salesman.

It's incredible.

Waiter! More wine. It's fabulous.

You find it fabulous that I fooled you?

You wouldn't understand it. It's destiny.

It doesn't matter,

you've got a client.

The best one you could find.

Are you a sex maniac?
- No, I'm a writer.

Didn't you say you sold insurance?

Yes, but truly I'm a writer. I write.

I'm interested in you.

Not in your body, exactly.

I can pay you for something very simple.

I do it with someone else while you watch?
– That's not it.

I want to know about you,

where you live, your family...

your life.

I need material for a novel I'm writing.

You could be useful.

Will I be in it?

I don't know.

I need you to speak about yourself.

I knew I'd meet a nut someday.

I'd thought of

sex maniacs.

Sadists, rapists...

But I never imagined this.

A writer...

I have to go now.

When will I see you?

One of these days.

May I call you somewhere?

No.

Take this.

My office number.

Please call me.

Where do you live?

In a hotel nearby.

May I walk you there?

Better not.

Please call me.

I have to... start working on my novel.

Sorry, but...

how much do I owe you?

For today...

Nothing.

You paid for my meal

and saved my life.

Will you do it again?

Not today.

I knew that Estela had some key.

I didn't know then
which door it would open

or where it would lead to.

But at least, in my life,

there was now a door.

RECORD ABOUT ESTELA

Hold back your emotions, Margarita,
though the time has not come.

What we now need to be saved is

presence of mind.

Presence.

Hold back your emotions, dear Margarita,
though the time has not come.

What we now need for everyone
to be saved is presence of mind.

Hold back your emotions, dear Margarita,
though the time has not come.

Ah, yes, my love, when we

belong each to the other,

my courage will be the greater,

my arm will be the stronger...

Who are you?

Do you think I lied?

Okay, I did.

But I only lied about one thing.

I don't live in a hotel,

but far away with my family.

Dad, Mom, brothers?

Mom, brothers.

Is your father... dead?

We're a family that has
always been in movement,

but backwards.

In that sense, we're a model,

worse every day.

We lived in a suburb.

Dad had a small factory.

He made plastic things.

Then the bad times came
and we were thrown out.

First we lost the house.

Dad bought a pre-fabricated one
we'd been paying for 10 years.

We moved there.

One day we couldn't even pay
for the prefabricated one

because we'd been cheated.

And the house cost twice
what they had said.

One day, our Dad left.

To try his luck elsewhere,
he said.

We never knew where.

When things got better,
he'd come for us.

Some days we just ate
bread and oil.

But when he showed up,
it was a party.

He'd bring turkey and champagne,

talking about some great deal...

Seriously.

After starving for days
we'd have turkey and champagne.

Not bad.

Then he'd leave again,

disappear for a certain time.

Now we haven't seen him...

for about a year.

You had a comedy in mind.

May I take you home?

Home...

Roberto...

Are you sure you want to come?

What's wrong?

I'll tell you later.

An uncle and an aunt.
- Have you quarrelled?

No, they're dead.

They died last year.

They always get on at this stop,
the cemetery.

They're not the only ones.

Never mind.

Don't believe it.

Don't include that in your story.

But the bus gets packed
with dead people at that stop.

And where do they go?

Nowhere, I think.

They only take a ride

to remember life, I suppose.

But if they see me, they get heavy.

They start asking about mom,

my brothers...

if we remember them,

the sweets they used to bring us
twenty years ago.

Until then I hadn't thought
Estela could be crazy.

Discovering that possibility
in a dark neighbourhood

made me more frightened
then I had ever been before.

I tried to remember every step we'd taken.

It could well be a dream.

I felt relaxed.

Nobody gets killed in a dream.

OK.

Leave me here.

That's my house.

Thank you for bringing me home.

When will I see you again?

I want to know more about your family.

I'll bring the food.

I'll cook.

Let me treat you.

But, please, give me tonight's...

Yes, of course,

I'm sorry.

I knew that trip would change my life,

but not making it would also change it.

Why did I think she was crazy?

Because of the dead people in the bus?

Maybe she was just giving me material.

I decided not to think
about Estela's possible madness.

Or about mine.

When will it fly?

Any day now.

Go ahead. I'll be right down.

He's been working on it for years...

When it's almost finished, he finds
something wrong and starts again...

Those are words I won't say again.

This is today's.

It doesn't exist anymore for me.

Why?

I don't know. I'm leaving... empty spaces

in my head for new things.

This way you'll end up silent.

That day I won't need to talk.

José will be in any time.

He knew you were coming.

This is in case Dad comes.

We always leave one ready.

Estelita told me you're a writer.

I write.

What do you live on?

I sell insurance.

Estela said...

you were interested in us
for your novel.

Well, I've been trying to write
about a family

and I thought it would be

interesting to know you.

Don't misunderstand me.
I don't want to write about your lives,

I simply want to...

gather material,

experiences that would help create

fictitious characters.

And what can be of interest here?

Someone who builds a plane on a terrace,

for instance...

could be an interesting character.

But please...
don't take me as a detective.

If I'm here,

it's just because...

I'm Estela's friend.

How did you meet?

In the subway.

That's José.

José, this is Roberto.

Come... Dinner is still warm.

I already ate.

What do you want with Estela?

Nothing. We're friends.

Didn't she tell you why I'm here?

You're writing a novel.

Why else?

I don't know.

There's something I don't like.

You're here to spy on us.

I'd prefer it if you said you were horny.

That would be a lie.

Look, there's something
you must get straight:

We're not what you'd call
a model family...

but none of us
would let anyone hurt us.

Please, never forget that.

I could have disappeared
after that night.

I could have imagined
the rest of those lives.

I realized that ridding
myself of those ghosts

would be difficult.

I still thought I could do it by writing

and locking them up in a novel.

Estela...

can I get in bed with you?

Perhaps my poor imagination
was testing me.

The truth is I soon felt the urge
to see Estela again

and return to that house.

I didn't want to imagine those lives.

I had to observe them.

But how could I change that first
unhappy meeting with the family?

How could I avoid being rejected?

Prosciutto with potato salad,

then... a chorizo steak with...

a Spanish omelette.

And a lettuce and tomato salad.

You?

Nothing yet.

Well, yes. White wine.

We also need...

who you are.

Need...

Oh...

A word you won't use again.

Need...

to know.

Does your family know you're here?

No. A few days ago Estela
could have... something

Er... – Could have....something.

Could have...

suspected.

'Cause I asked her in what
subway station you'd met.

Did she tell you how? – No.

If she had introduced you
as her boyfriend it would be different.

But...

Sorry, are you pushing me to that?

You all want to get rid of her?

I just want to write about you,
not live with you.

Sorry if I was rude, but...

Claudio,

why did you really come?

I thought...

you're a writer...

Maybe... you can change our lives.

Someone intelligent from outside

could... what's happening,

and tell us what to do.

What do you want?

Help you write that novel.
And I want to pay you.

Pay me? What for?

To write chapters for us. – What?

You could show us the...

Lead us to the end of that novel.

Hold it, Claudio.

I don't have a clear idea yet.

And...

that's important, one thing is fiction
and another thing is real life.

Our family was thrown
out of paradise one day.

And we... without... what to do.

I can hardly handle my life.

How do you see it? Easy?

Life is always difficult.

And each one must find his own way.

What about those who don't... how to?

Their lives are theirs.

You're asking me to write your future...

Not even God would accept that job.

I mean to pay you.

Claudio,

Could we...

the food?

Could we the food?

Share?

What have you studied?

One year of Philosophy.

Then the Apocalypse brigade charged...

What year? '76, '77?

I had to drop out in '77.

Were you in trouble?

The only survival technique
I know is cowardice.

So I never got into real trouble.

Once I was arrested...

they cut my hair, called me a fag.

I accepted everything without...

at least they didn't... a subversive.

Mom... always right.

One shouldn't have strange thoughts.

You shouldn't think.

You had to be quiet, polite,
with short, slicked-back hair.

Like now.

Now I like it.

Tell me, Claudio,

apart from crossing out words,

what do you do?

I grow pumpkins.

Each one had a role to play.

In that story, Estela had a boyfriend.

That was me.

Sorry...

what time is it?

Five to eight. – Thanks.
– You're welcome.

Estela...

I'm still interested in the novel.

But...

meanwhile...

I'd like to see you.

Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?

Sorry,

but sometimes I really think you're crazy.

You mean you came
to ask me to be your girlfriend?

To ask me?

Do you forget who I am?

I thought...

your family would prefer this

to be more formal.

Do you want to keep coming?

You don't need to marry me.

Thanks for the flowers, anyway.

Or do you want to stop paying me?

Don't get angry.

Don't pay me any more.

It's not fair.

How will you manage?
– We'll see.

Do you have to go back soon?
– No.

I thought of going to a club.

José said he'd buy us a drink.

It's near the station.

You're sure he's not a cop?

You get dough out of him?

He gives it to me.

You look lost, like Tarzan in the subway.

Send more whisky over.

Congratulations...

I see you've got a girlfriend.

If you're going to be a drag,
we're leaving.

Want to dance?

You know, don't you?

You have to.

Know what?

That you're crazy.

I have some idea.

Why do you ask me?

Well...

coming all the way here,
crossing the border

for a chick like my sister.

Worse than that,

all for a novel...

Don't make me waste my time.

Tell me about yourself.

About me?

You know a lot about me.

What do you do?

Surviving.

Anything except giving in,
being a yes-man,

jobs, orders.

No subordination,

some courage.

Leave the literature to me.

In short, what do you do?

What do you live on?

Take it easy...

consider me one of the family.

I'm in business.

I'll tell you someday.

Want to get a better view?

No.

I do.

You'll miss something.

Afraid? – Why?

All this...

my brother...

I'm learning things about you.

Are you always working?

Why don't you relax and live a little?

Don't worry.

I am relaxed. I'm fine.

Don't you want to dance?
– I never do.

You still don't want to go
to bed with me?

Estela.

At my age...

that's not the most important.

I don't think about it constantly,

like a teenager.

Let it happen if it has to.

You want to?

I don't know.
If you really want to know,

it's difficult to know
what one wants from you.

If to kiss you or kill you

or insult you or hug you.

But I do know something:

let's cut out the formalities...

shall we?

Let's talk simple, old geezer.

Okay?

Okay.

It's like taking off a tie.

I've been longing for this.

I'll make up for it.

Look at me,

talk to me, tell me...

leave, stay,

hit me...

listen, touch me, fuck me...

Sorry.

What do you want from us, Roberto?

Really, what do you want?

I don't get it.

We've been shipwrecked,
we're clinging to anything that floats.

And you know what floats most here?

Shit.

But let's suppose

you've also had a shipwreck.

You could hold on to other things.

I don't mean a motorboat,
but people who travel in your class

always have a life jacket, right?

Close your eyes.

I'll put something in your hand.
You might like it.

José.

Come on. Don't be a chicken.

I have to trust you, right?

Ok.

Put out your hand.

What do you feel?

Have you had one before?

No.

You see.

So how can you be a writer then?

Why do you carry a gun?

Because I'm a firm believer.

Seriously.

When I pull one of these,

I'm the greatest believer on earth.

You've been trying to show me
you're a tough guy.

Of the worst.

Capable of the worst things.

What are you after?

That I judge you? Or scold you?

That's not what I'm here for.

I want to be your friend just as you are.

Not to judge you nor change your lives.

Can't you see me as a friend?

Ask Estela for my number, call me

and we'll have coffee together.

Bye.

This guy is nuts.

Here's the river we lost in Buenos Aires.

That's how you see it.

That son of a bitch
screws things up every year.

It rises

and rotes everything up.

Does it reach your house?
– Yes.

What do you do?
– We stay.

Praying it doesn't reach the ceiling.

You don't leave?
– No.

When the rescue boats go by, we hide.

So they think we're not there.

If we left... everything would be gone.

Let's go back.

It's late.

A rough day indeed.

I remembered there was a woman in my bed
who I'd have to explain things to.

But my life at that moment
had one objective:

finding a place
where I could eat some pizza.

You didn't go to work.
– No.

Are you going out?
– Why?

Call the office and say I'm ill.

You're asking to be fired.

What's wrong?

We have to talk.

Not now.

Close the door.

How are you?

Tired.

Last night I worked on the plane's engine.

Adjusting...

some parts.

I was expecting you.

Tell me... what's wrong with you?

Maybe I'm in love.

What's wrong with that?

It could hurt me.

How?

If he didn't love me.

We survive because we're tough.

If someone gives in, we're fucked.

What a pity.

So you don't know when she'll be back.

No.

She was meeting a friend downtown.

Well,

please tell her to call me.

Are you going to the station?

Yes.

Me too. Let's go.

Bye, Claudio.

Just what you wanted.

He left.

The plane has two seats.

Are you taking anyone?

Carla, my girlfriend.

I will introduce you.

Why didn't you marry

or move out?
That's what I don't understand.

My salary is the only steady income.

Poor Claudio is getting worse.

José will be found

in a ditch any day.

And Estelita does what she can.

She scares me...

When she goes out to work,

I'm afraid.

Why?

I don't know.

We're sentenced, Roberto,

and I want to escape from prison.

Not through a tunnel in the earth.

I'm going to make a tunnel

in the sky.

Sometimes pizza was not
the answer for emptiness.

Night was falling in the city.

Everybody seemed to have
something to do,

somewhere to go.

My urge for life was
at a dangerously melancholic level.

On those occasions

my heartbeat decreased until
it was enough to fake that I was alive.

But sometimes God

uses a demon to give us back our hope.

What are you doing here?

I called you at work, but you were
not there, so I asked for your address.

Come up.

I need a favor.

Can you keep my bag for a few days?

It has a couple of irons.

And... – Listen kid:

careful! I'm not your kind.

Who the hell do you think you are
to mix me up like this?

What did you think?

I'm a jerk?

That's what you all think, isn't it?

What's wrong, Roberto?

Are you nuts?

You're beyond help.

You said we'd be friends.

I got no other place to leave this.

If they catch me...
Who would find them here?

I also brought you this.

A recorder...

I thought it could be useful for you.

Thanks but I couldn't use it
knowing it was stolen.

If I had the money,
I would've bought it for you.

I wanted to offer you something.

As you are some kind of journalist,

you can record the nonsense we talk.

How's the novel going?

Am I in it already?

Sit down.

Here.

Can we move this?
I feel like I'm giving a confession.

This is your iron...

What do you do here?

I write here.

This is my home.

You're married.

Where's your wife?

At the theater.

She's an actress.

An actress?

I would have liked to be an actor.

Really.

If I hadn't become a crook...

Our old man asked us all
what we wanted to be.

When my turn came I said:
«Either an actor or a crook.»

«Be a crook», he said,
it's less risky and more rewarding.»

Did you finish high school?

Of course.

Without a degree,
I wouldn't stand a chance.

And your old man?

Tell me about him.

Estela and Claudio told me something

but I'm interested in your view.

The old man?

Nothing.

He was a son of a bitch.

Is that only anger,

or is there some admiration?

No admiration.

He shit on all of us

but took good care of himself.

That's what you want to do too.

Any other way out?

What about you?

He saw how things were going and said
«Every man for himself».

When the ship started to go down he said
«Women and children first».

And he jumped.

He may have gone for help.

To save all of you.

And something may have happened.

I mean,

I don't want to defend him

but you know life's very difficult.

And a man who sees

everything falling to pieces...

He went for help

and got distracted for five years.

What if he's dead?

I hope he is.

I'll tell you a secret.

My brothers,
especially Estelita and Claudio,

are still waiting for him to come back.

Like some Santa Claus,
carrying presents and champagne.

I don't say anything.

I'm waiting too

but to shoot him.

Sometimes I imagine I'll find him
when I bust some place...

Have him there... with his hands up.

You think you could shoot?

Five shots.

One for each of us.

Have you ever killed someone?
– No.

Went for help...

You know what he did to get help?

Did Estela or Claudio tell you?

He remarried.

And had three kids.

How do you know that?

We all know.

But nobody would tell you.

They'd rather believe he'll be back.

He was worse off than we were.

In a shanty town.

You know what he used to do?

The woman he married

already had children

and together they had more.

This time he didn't go for help.

Every now and then

he'd take one, a two or three year old,

for a ride.

He'd take a train

or the subway when they were packed...

And when the kid wasn't looking

he'd get off and leave him there.

Then I found out that...

it happens all the time.

Isn't stealing better?

Tell me, Roberto,

if he couldn't feed his children...

wasn't it better to go

and rip off something?

One day we took Estelita
to the movies.

She starts crying like crazy
in the subway 'cause she thought

the city could be full of her little
brothers and sisters. «Yes!», I said.

They're everywhere.

Subways are full of them
and trains and streets.

Oh hell! Talk to me about morals.

Who does, José?
– Everybody, man.

Take yourself.

You don't want the recorder
because of your morals.

I risked my life to get it.

But of course, you didn't buy it
with your credit card.

I don't have one.

Alright.

If we're going to be kicked out anyway,

who cares what we do in the meantime?

Was your old man immoral?
– Of course.

What about you, helping your family?

What do you mean?

That I'm not immoral?

Maybe less than you think.

Bullshit. Anything goes...

An assassin and a scientist
are eaten up by the same worms.

The same ones who'll eat up
a great author and myself.

At least we have that in common.

We're brothers... in Christ and the worms.

You've known a better world.

Sometime in your childhood

your life was better.

Have you any memories?

Something special?

I was always getting into trouble.

I was never at home.

I missed more classes then I attended.

Everything always seemed like a big lie.

Is there anything pleasant...

that you would like to recall?

From that time.

Think about it.

Don't answer anything
just to surprise me, or to be pitied.

A good image.

You must have one.

From that time?

In your neighbourhood.

When everything worked.

I sometimes have a dream, a stupid one...

Tell me.

The van from the bakery...

when they unloaded the trays
with sandwiches and pastries...

because on that day Estelita was fifteen.

Nice memories.

I can still smell the hot dogs.

There were colored lights
strung up on the patio...

The smell of the plants...

Jasmine.

Yeah, the smell of jasmine in the garden.

Until one day

they told us the party was over.

And we never knew why.

You're a writer.

You could know.

What was our mistake?

If you could only explain it...

Because none of us knows.

Leave the bag. I'll keep it.

It has small batteries.

Presence of mind.

Presence.

Hold back your emotions, dear Margarita,
though the time has not come.

What we now need for everyone
to be saved is presence of mind.

Hold back your emotions,
dear Margarita, though...

For my wife, life was a play.

For me, a novel.

Our lives were like a performance.

A performance that was suffocating me.

I decided to leave the stage.

Hello.

What are you doing here?

I just left a client and wanted to say hi.

You still don't want to sleep with me?

It's the first time
we've seen each other in daylight...

And we're still alive.

It proves we're not vampires.

Mom said to ask you for lunch on Sunday.

The boys also want to see you.

It seems they liked you.

Why that word?

A wife as a companion or as an obligation?

I don't know...

I felt I didn't need it any longer.

It means both things, doesn't it?

What's that?

A speedometer.

How will you get it down?

Are you gonna take it apart?
– Yes.

With a pulley.

And to make it fly?

I'll take it to the aeroclub.

What are these marks?

Those are for the abortions
Carla had to have for me.

Good morning, professor...

I wanted to see you.

I left home, José.

I'm in a hotel. Your bag isn't safe now.

What happened?

Your wife kicked you out?

Ok.

I'll come and pick it up.
Where is it?

Call me at the office.

I have some questions for you.

Always asking...

you should have been a cop, not a writer.

I'll call you.

Are you leaving? – Yes.

Sorry, I got a hot tip.

If I hit it big... I'll bring pastries.

Will you stay? – Could be.

Ah, yes, my love, when we

belong each to the other,

my courage will be the greater,

my arm will be the stronger.

But if within the book

of destiny it is written

that I should fall tomorrow,

struck down by an enemy blade,

that I should fall tomorrow,

My graduation as schoolteacher.

That's me.

Why have most of the photos
been trimmed?

Mother's pastime.

Dad was in some...

In others, relatives she quarrelled with.

That's Mario at technical school.

The year he graduated, I think.

That's grandma's patio.

This is you...

Mario...

José, Claudio, Mom.

This is Dad.

What were you like?

An idiot...

an idiot who was always scared.

Why scared?

A lot of reasons.

Most of them instilled by that saint.

Fear has always been her business.

How was that?

Did she hit you?

Of course, the others too.

Do you think it's her fault
your father left?

It was a good enough reason.

That was not the reason.

The old man must have loved her
to have four kids.

Sometimes, when we visited
some relative,

if she didn't like something,

she'd call me smiling, so that
no one would notice,

and say: «At... we'll settle that.»

I'd carry on playing, hours would go by,
I'd already forgotten and we went ...,

as if nothing had happened.

When we returned...

All hell would break loose.

She'd put me under a cold shower

with my clothes on.

How old were you then?
- Five or six.

A little later the...

would smell of jam tarts,
I was crazy about them.

And I didn't...

She baked them for me.

And I didn't... what to do
with all my hatred.

I felt like scum.

He'd cry more than under the shower.

Life wasn't easy for her either.

No, poor old lady.

He must feel some love for her.

He hates her. He's tried to kill her
several times.

Kill her? – Yes.

Yes. He gives her slug poison.

The one they use for pumpkins.

He puts it in her soup, in her tea...

She must be immune by now.

Does she know? – Yes.

Yes. She told me herself.

But she doesn't want Claudio to know.

She suspects everything
when she is alone with him.

But she won't say anything.

I see her crying when she washes
a dish or a cup and I realize.

He poisoned her again.

It's like a game.

We won!

We won.

Cheers... Fabulous!

Give me some more.

Cheers...

Maestro...

Excellent.

...Montevideo...

Cheers.

What was I doing there?

How had our lives intermingled?

Anyway, there they were, with me

in the same movie.

I felt we were just that.

Characters in
a film somebody was watching.

But who would be watching?

Maybe no one.

Lights would go out someday
for them and for me.

Probably without knowing
why we'd been there,

why we'd allowed to be maltreated,

why we'd accepted unhappiness.

Hello.

I'm going into action.

What do you bet? Jackpot or bust?
My bet's on the jackpot.

I don't understand.

Wait until 7 at the bar.

If I don't show up, I'm busted.

It was the jackpot. What did you bet?

I didn't bet.

I'd rather deal.

That's what I wanted to talk about.

You were in a hold-up...

What kind of business?

A video club. Not much dough.

I've been thinking...

I want you to write scenes for me to act.

You have lots of imagination...

Think up good rip-offs
and we'll all be saved.

Mario will finish his plane.

You take Estela to Brazil.

Sun... the beaches...

imagine finishing your novel there.

We'll buy a place for Mom and Claudio,

and I'll travel, too.

The planet is so big, and we're
holed up in this shit, brother.

Nobody will ever pay you
so well for your imagination.

I'm offering you freedom, boy.

You don't have to do anything,
except thinking.

What are you waiting for?
To finish your novel?

And if you do, how much will you make?

You're crazy, José.

Could be, but think it over.

Come to the hotel.

I'll give you your bag.

The novel wasn't progressing.

But I was increasingly involved
with those floating lunatics.

I wanted to help those shipwrecked remains
to reach a safe shore.

But they seemed to drift
in the other direction,

towards the open sea.

And they were dragging me.

He's disappeared.

He won't have anything to do with us.

With me...

Were you happier before,

without him, or now?

Even he's not here.

Even with a broken heart...

don't you feel more alive?

Why do I want to feel
more alive if I'm dying?

Does he know your feelings?

Not quite...

I thought giving him my body
would bring us closer.

But he's an intellectual.

What can I do?

Wait till he discovers you.

He may not deserve you.

I brought you what you wanted.

Thank you.

May I ask you a question?

What is this for?

I'm leaving.

Where to?

I don't know.

To be with people.

I'm very tired.

I can't endure it any more.

I must put up with those
who have torn human flesh,

seeking forgiveness.

And I must remain there...

...looking at them

as I look at you.

And I must feel love...

for those who sentence their brothers

to misery... and pain.

I can't bear it any longer.

What will become of me?

I'll always be there for you.

Where?

Anywhere I may be.

Everywhere. With you.

Estela...

I know he loves you.

Give him time

to realize it.

FLOODS IN BUENOS AIRES

Hello.

Is my ghost in this house?

No ghosts.

But when will you take all your things?

Why did you call me?

If you need money, I can't help you.

I could need something else.

If I had wanted just to talk...

Okay. Excuse me.

I'm in trouble.

What sort of trouble?

Susana.

Once it was different.

Once we were in love...

and we cared for each other.

Yes, at one time.

In all those years...

did you ever think...

I could be something else
but an insurance salesman?

Why not?

I never made you feel a fool
like you did to me.

You ever thought of me as a writer?

Yes, I did.

Did you once think
I could be something else?

I told you, a writer.

And a criminal?

A criminal?

Yes, a thief... a hold-up man...

No. I never thought that.

I'll be involved in some hold-ups.

I'm with...

a gang.

Have you gone crazy?

What happened to your job?

They sacked me, but not because of that.

But how can you possibly do that?

It's a long story...

Is there a woman in this?

It concerns the novel.

Why don't you look for help? A doctor.

A psychiatrist. You never understood.

What must I understand?

Anybody can understand this, except you.

Always only half-living...

because you had another destiny.

I was never really your wife.

Always waiting for your dream-girl.
You never took your work seriously.

You were a writer.
Always screwing everybody else.

You know your problem?

Reality. You can't bear it.

What about your reality?

When do you live?

Two hours a day on the stage?

What are you off-stage?

What is your life off-stage?

My life off-stage now is life.

I have somebody who loves me,
who protects me...

who likes me and who fucks me,
the way it's supposed to be.

What do I care?

I've also got a woman. You know what?

She's something you'll never be now.

She's young! Young!

Poor girl...

Young, and with you?
I feel sorry for her.

But why do you come here
and bother me then?

Will you treat her the way you treated me?

I'm leaving.
I can't stand this rancid smell.

That's the smell you left, dear.

Now go and sink in your madness.

And let others live. – You lousy actress!

You lunatic! – Mediocre!

Failure! – Frigid!

Impotent! – You cow!

Criminal!

Good afternoon, Father.

My son... this is a hold-up.

What side would God be on in this?

José wanted to know for every robbery.

If there was an answer,
I also wanted to hear it.

Hello. – Hello.

We wanted to know how you were.

Come in.

Roberto.

How am I in the novel?

Not very different.

What's the character's name?

Estela.

Does she do the same things?

Some of them...

Only that when she pretends
to jump on the tracks to get a client,

she's really lying.

She intends to jump.

Poor Estelita.

I have a proposition.

To re-enact the scene in the subway.

In different stations.

What for?

I'd like to observe those who save you.

I wonder if someone else can.

Who saved you?

Nobody.

I saved myself.

I don't know what your Estela
would have done.

I don't want to die.

Not now.

I NEED A TOURNEY

Yes, but the trial could take months...

Stop it, Pedro,

let's get out of here.
Let's go where nobody knows us.

If you don't show up
they can't do anything to you.

We can work in anything.

I love you, Pedro,

I don't want to lose you.

What are you doing?

The theater's packed.

The ticket booth's loaded with dough.

Jackpot or bust?

You're crazy, wait.

Coming.

Who is it? – It's me.

What's the matter?

It's over, Roberto.

You've gone too far.

What did I do?

José told me

you both planned the last robberies.

The theater was his idea.

Don't you realize he's a sick man?

What kind of a son of a bitch are you?

What are we?

Your characters? – Hold it.

What will you do now?

What about José, who's killed a guy?

What will you do?

Tell me...

what's the next chapter like?

Or haven't you reached
that part yet?

What's that?

You think I can jump?

That's an ending
you wouldn't have to think up.

Let's see if your character can do this.

It was my own crazy trip.

– Why did you do it?

I don't know.

An impulse.

We're being watched.

They're my men.

You know when you're offered
a lottery ticket and you don't...

but once you've seen the number...

It was a guy's life. Not a lottery ticket.

I know.

You believe in destiny?

That was bound to happen anyway.

I was merely an instrument.

Somebody had decided that man would die.

So now you're God's instrument.
You're completely mad, José.

Dangerously mad. This is not a game.

As I told you on the phone.
I don't want to see you again.

It's a pity.

I had another idea for your novel.

A big hold-up.

It doesn't matter, I'm not resentful.

I'll give Estelita the money
to leave with you anyway.

You're such an idiot
you never said you got sacked.

What's that big hit, José?

A funeral parlor.

Note it down, what a title:

«The great final battle against death»

You can't fight death
in its own battleground.

It'll be a fantastic hit,

a hold-up few meters away from God.
In his secretary's office.

He'll hear us, Roberto.

If he exists, I'll be so close
he'll have to hear.

He'd told me about it.

About a great final battle
against death.

He went into the wolf's den.

A police commissioner's wake.

His great final battle never took place.

He was killed like a dog.

Idiot...

Estela...

You think I'm to blame?

No.

But you could've prevented it.

What could I have given you?

What could I have given José?

I'm not the father you lost. – I know.

What are you?

How does it feel to be
before José's corpse?

Or sitting before a typewriter,
while life goes on for others?

For others.

Things happen to others.

Nothing happens to you.

It must be terrible.

It must be like...

like being dead.

Not?

Good luck with your novel.

What would be left of that story?

Not the novel's,

but my life.

What a petty and mediocre destiny.

After all that happened,

I'd surrender to a gray
and expected death.

We were just like at the beginnings.

Nothing had happened.

Yes, things have happened,
you son of a bitch!

Calm down, I know it.

I know it.

No, you don't know a damn thing.

You don't understand anything.

Okay, I didn't. What can I do?

Nobody's surrendering here!
Get on with it!

If you didn't understand,
someday you will.

You conceited freak,

who the hell do you think you are?

Grab your coat and go.

Where? You know where.

Hello, Mario.

I want the plane to fly.

Roberto...

Thanks for what you did for Mario.

We won't forget you.

Why would you?

We're leaving.

Where to?

To Misiones.

The doctor told Mom to take Claudio
to a different climate.

Because of this breathing problems.

The three of us are leaving.

We've nothing else to do here.

Why are you going to Misiones?

Well, my health.

Okay.

Mom... with aunt... in cemetery.

She said... Dad... in Misiones.

You know it's more than likely
you won't find Dad.

And even if you did...

what use would it be now?

I... don't want to... mother alone.

Will it be easier to kill her there?

In the end...

we were very little together.

We had lots to talk about.

Those... never be said.

Do you bear a grudge?

No... I would... liked...
for you to like me better.

But...

you preferred José and Mario. Like Dad.

Don't say that.

I...

they always... characters... more...

But so that you see I... no grudge...

I want to give you... word.

It's... no... say again.

But this one...

I won't cross out... on wall.

What word?

Pumpkin.

Don't laugh.

For me... very important word.

The pumpkins will wither away.

But you will... with the word.

When you say pumpkin,
you'll be able to think about...

About...

No.

I can't let her go.

If I do...

my life is finished.

No. Excuse me!

Excuse me! Please...

I can't let her go.

Excuse me. Please.
It's an emergency, gentlemen.

Are you sick?
– I'm in love.

An idiot.
– Please.

I'm in love. I can't help it.

Come back some other time.

I thought you'd be too lonely.

The mistake during all that time,

was to seek the great salvation.

It doesn't exist.

Great salvations don't exist.

Someday you'll know it.

Maybe,

if there are any,

they'll only be small salvations.

Like you.

Or like your mother.

Don't look as if I were
talking nonsense...

I know you're not interested
in these things now.

You're in paradise.

But you'll be thrown out, son,
you'll be thrown out.

Pumpkins dry up someday.

But pumpkins couldn't care less.

There they are...

Growing just the same...

As if they didn't know anything.

Or as if they knew everything.

How scared I'd be tonight

if I didn't have you both.

Are you listening?