Original subtitles

The origin of the word "psychology" is greek.

It means science of the soul.

A new form of medicine that seeks to explain the phenomena of the mind,

a much-misunderstood part of the human body,

which for some has greatly compounded their suffering.

You can leave that right there. Thank you.

- Gracias. - Thank you so much.

Excuse me?

Excuse me!

You're from the Marquez Ranch?

Dear Isabella, your son's case is intriguing.

I'm eager to learn more.

I believe the abnormalities to be related to the mind, not the body.

I would like to come in person.

With proper time and the latest in mental science,

I am confident that we can come to understand his peculiar intellect

and integrate your son back into society.

I look forward to meeting you.

Grace.

Maria!

Doctor Grace Victoria Burnham.

- Pleased to meet you. - I am Maria.

- You are here to save us? - Shh!

How was your trip?

Very agreeable. Thank you.

Come, I'll show you to your room.

I would like to see the boy as soon as possible. Is he still awake?

It is best to see the Don first.

Temo will come with your things.

Very good. Shall I meet Isabella then?

You should speak to the Don first.

Señor Marquez, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.

Señora...

I am Doctor Burnham.

Hmm.

I see.

Temo will return you to the station tomorrow.

- We have no need of a nurse. - Excuse me?

I'm sorry you came all this way.

Come.

If there is a sick patient in this home, I will see to him.

No matter how ignorant his father is.

You may see the boy tonight.

I'm sorry for that.

It's a bitter man who puts his prejudices before the welfare of his own child.

- He has good reason. - Is that so?

He doesn't seem like a man moved by reason.

I'm assuming it was Isabella who taught the boy.

Martín taught himself.

- You keep him like this? - It is best.

It's all right. This is Doctor Burnham.

Look, Martín. She's from Nueva York.

- It's a pleasure to meet you. - Your music was lovely.

Was that Paganini?

May I sit?

Thank you, Martín.

Father Antonio, thank you, but you may leave us now.

I'm sorry, Señora, I must stay.

Can you read to me?

Yes. But first, I'd like to ask you some questions.

Would that be all right?

- And do you like cowboys? - They're called gauchos here or vaqueros.

That's what I'm going to be.

You are quite the enthusiast.

You'd make Buffalo Bill very proud.

You've been as well to a show?

I have.

During the World's Fair in Chicago.

You're very lucky.

Mama says Buffalo Bill is almost a good cowboy as papá.

I'm sure she's right.

Did she buy you all these books?

Some.

But she won't buy any more books for me.

And why is that?

Because I killed her.

Martín...

Can you tell me what happened?

Martín?

Would you like me to read to you now?

Isabella, no!

Martín!

Martín!

Why have you allowed him to perpetuate this idea that he killed his mother?

Because that is what happened.

He's always been like this.

The very day Martín was born, that's when the locusts came.

It is like "Exodus 10".

"The Lord sent a plague onto Egypt, and that plague was death."

Father Antonio...

before we begin Martín's treatment, let me be clear.

We are dealing with a disorder. A disease of the mind.

Religion is not a factor.

It is a matter of science and we'll solve it as one.

Sí, señora.

If we say we have no sin,

we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.

And who decides what is a sin?

Martín, I would like to visit your mother's grave.

Would you mind taking me?

It's better if we stay in the hacienda.

No! She should see my mother.

It's not safe.

I will take you.

Do you miss your mother?

Shall we pray, Martín?

Father Antonio.

Padre Gavira.

- That is quite enough! - Grace.

You're scaring him.

He is a child.

Martín, no!

- Martín, come! Come!

Go, Grace!

We'll get the demon later! We purify the Jesuit's soul.

What have they done?

Hold this. I need my bag.

My bag. Now.

I need clean bandages.

What was that Temo said? Satch-ak?

Sach'aqa. It's Quechua, it means "savages".

Gavira came when Martín was only months old.

The Lord had spoken to him.

He said we had to exorcise Martín to get the devil out of him.

I refused.

And now they blame Martín for everything bad that happens here.

You were right.

They say Martín is evil.

Maybe he is.

- I was praying for you. - Do you know who that is?

- Satan. - He was once God's favourite angel.

But he wanted to be like God so he was cast out of heaven.

Satan hides in our world...

until regains his strength.

Then he will rise again and wage his final war.

Martín, would you warm some water for me, please?

Sí, señora.

- Do you actually believe those things? - It's the word of God.

But I won't be of much help in their great war,

because I am weak.

You don't have to tell me.

Gavira broke me with just a few lashes.

I confessed everything he asked.

"Is the boy in league with Lucifer?" "Yes."

"Did he conspire to bring famine to this valley?" "Yes."

Don Marquez!

This is no place for your son.

I think you know that.

Can you hear me?

He died this morning. Half of my herd is already afflicted.

Unquy llaqta utaq.

The animals in the village are sick as well. They will blame Martín.

Well, you must leave. You've got to go to someplace safe.

You can leave if you want.

That was very nice of you, Martín.

Señora.

I see you are still here. - I am.

So you think you can still heal, Martín?

Of course.

Hmm.

Let me tell you about Martíne's sister. She was stillborn.

I'm sorry.

No, she wasn't...

- !¡Nicolás! Déjame verla. - I wanted her buried with the family.

Nicolás!

But Father Gavira wouldn't allow it.

She wasn't baptised, so I buried her by the stream.

- I see. - No, you don't.

Martín didn't like the sound of his mother crying,

so he tried to make her stop.

No! No!

- No! - Martín!

Who would do something like that?

I believe that Martín has what John Langdon Down called "savant syndrome".

It's a disorder.

It is modern medicine that will help Martín.

Not priests or myths or delusions of omens.

There is always an explanation.

Father Gavira!

I'm...

I'm so sorry.

What happened?

- You're arrogant to come here. - I came to make peace.

And to help you understand.

See, Martín isn't like other children.

He's got a sort of sickness.

See, I am an alienist, a doctor.

And I treat patients like Martín who are alienated from their human nature.

I baptised this boy when he was only days old.

I look in his father's eyes,

and I ask him to let me hold this baby's head under the water.

- He trust me, and I failed him. - No.

The Lord sent me a warning when Martín was born.

- I didn't listen. - Martín is different. But he's no demon.

Satan disguised himself as an angel.

Martín has a condition, an illness.

Look, if you just see right here, you will understand.

It is all right here. Look.

See?

Please. You'll see.

Our book also has a name for this condition.

El Maligno.

I'm no child you can scare.

No fue Adán quien fue engañado, sino una mujer llamada Eva.

Amen!

- !¡Malditos! !Bruja! - Get off of me! Let me go! Let me go!

- Let me go! - !¡Bruja!

Get off of me! Get off of me!

- Let me go!

Get off of me!

You will confess?

I do this to save you.

Bastard.

You bastards!

Andrés.

Fourteen.

Fourteen qué?

You'll have to slaughter fourteen head. Better do it now before they starve.

There is no right or wrong answer. All right?

What do you see?

- There is nothing. - Really?

This inkblot was made by Justinus Kerner, a German physician.

Like you.

He was also a poet, inspired by this very picture.

So, tell me, Martín...

do you still see nothing?

That's not a shape.

I see a lake in the mountains because it reminds me of home.

Does it remind you of anything?

Anything at all.

Perhaps I see a butterfly.

Very well.

How about this one?

What do you see?

I see a moth.

- Everything all right, Father? - I can't remember the last time I've seen rain.

You really seem to have made a connection.

If I may...

what do you see in him?

I see a boy born with special abilities.

Music, mathematics, language.

A boy born with the ability to access parts of the brain that others don't even know exist.

A boy touched by God.

That's one way to say it.

What else?

I see a... confused,

lost child

with no place in this world,

born incapable of normal social behaviour.

Incapable of empathy.

And do you believe you can cure him?

No.

But I can help Martín imagine what it's like to feel

what other people are feeling.

I believe that only God can change, Martín.

But who knows, Grace?

Perhaps he works through you.

Not yet.

Thank you.

I didn't know you were waiting for me.

It would be nice to eat together, as a family would.

!¡Claro! It's nice to have a woman at our table again.

- Thank you, Don Marquez. - Nicolás, please.

The east field is ready to be replanted.

Wheat will grow there now.

"The dusty cowboy rode into town astride his giant black steed."

"Outnumbered and surrounded, he faced down the cattle rustlers."

"His wife, still in the grips of these bandits, called out,

'William, run! Save yourself!'."

"But Bill Cody would do no such thing."

"He drew his two Colt revolvers and galloped into the bandits."

"And when the dust settled, there was only one man still set atop his horse."

"The West's most wild cowboy, a true gaucho."

- Like my father. - Like your father.

Now it's bedtime.

Good night.

You know this is just loneliness.

You know that, right?

Maybe.

You keep the boy inside.

No, that's wrong. He's supposed to say the benediction next.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine.

- You are mine, you are mine. - Martín. Martín.

Martín, I need you...

So, Martín, I need to go help.

Will you stay here for me? Please? All right?

- Nicolás! Where's Nicolás? - He went inside.

Nicolás!

No!

Nicolás! Nicolás!

Nicolás! Nicolás!

No!

Martín. Martín.

Get up now, and follow me outside.

Hurry!

Temo!

Antonio!

Stay here.

Go! Go!

Nicolás...

Martín...

The fire, he...

Yesterday, in the field, Martín took my hand.

You'll need stitches.

Later.

I saw something.

During the fire.

Something... impossible.

If I...

If my reason...

If I of all people can't see Martín without prejudice,

then how am I to help him?

God works through us. It is by his hand you came here.

God didn't send me, Father.

If he exists, God abandoned us a long time ago.

Do you know what "grace" means?

Grace is when... God reaches out to us in moments when we want nothing to do with him.

When he puts his faith in us, even when we've lost it in ourselves.

What I'm trying to say

is that perhaps it is you we needed here in this hour of darkness.

Not in spite of your beliefs, but because of them.

Good morning. Good morning.

Martín...

Look at me.

Martín, it's time for our morning talk.

Papá should plant amaranth in the east field.

Is that so?

Amaranth is more tolerant to blight and drought. We had both this year.

All right. We'll tell him tonight.

We should tell the other farmers in the village, too.

And why would you like to do that?

So they don't burn our house down.

Only that?

Or could it be that you also don't want them to go hungry? - No, only that.

Why do you think that they burned down your stables? - To punish me.

- Why? - Because I killed their crops.

Martín, did you kill their crops?

Did you sneak out in the middle of the night and release the locusts?

Maybe.

And did you also cast a spell on their animals and make them sick and die?

- Martín, did you? - No.

- Well, then it can't be true, can it? - What about the man last night?

Hey, Martín, you did nothing to him.

You didn't do anything.

Do you hear me?

He started a fire and it killed him.

That's what happened.

Martín, those people are scared, all right?

They're scared, and they need something to blame for that fear,

and it's going to be you, because you are different.

All right?

Do you understand me?

Yes.

How's Martín?

He understands what happened.

He blames himself.

What can I do?

Treat him like a son.

Love him...

without judgement.

He mentioned planting amaranth. Perhaps you could take him back with you.

No.

But he needs that. He needs to spend time with you, working in the fields.

He will work with me.

But we cannot plant together again.

They've sown my land with salt. Nothing will grow now.

In the case of common hysteria,

it not infrequently happens that instead of a single major trauma,

we find a number of partial traumas, forming a group of provoking causes.

They are components of a single story of suffering.

We must presume, then, that the cyclical trauma,

or, more precisely, the memory of that trauma,

acts as a foreign body

which...

long after its entry must continue to be regarded as an agent still at work,

only disappearing once the memory has been vividly provoked.

The process must be brought back to its "status nascendi",

its state of birth.

Can you hear it, Martín?

Each click in rhythm like the one before and the one after.

Each moment no longer and no shorter than any other.

Time passing in perfect symmetry.

I'm going to name a thing, and you're going to tell me how it makes you feel.

- Horses. - I like to ride horses.

But they smell very bad.

- Yellow clovers. - I hate them.

- Why? - Because they remind me of Mama.

Tell me about her.

She smelled like lavender and her hair was the colour of burnt coffee.

- How did she make you feel? - Safe.

That sounds very nice.

Why would you dislike that feeling, Martín?

Because it's a lie. We're not safe.

We're all going to die because of me.

- What is your lie? - What?

What is your lie?

What-is-your-lie?

What is your lie?

That I'm a fraud.

That I repeat the teachings of great men, but I'm not one of them.

That I'll travel to the edge of the world to prove myself, only to fail.

Those aren't lies.

They're fears.

- Temo? - Uma wakcha kunan.

What is it?

I believe it to be typhus.

- Plague. - It's spread by lice.

I need you to go inside and burn everything that she could have touched in the last few days.

Linens, blankets, clothing... Anything that could spread the disease.

Do you understand?

Through this Holy Unction of oil and through the great goodness of his mercy...

Nicolás!

I can't... do this.

I'm not who you think I am.

No.

No.

I'm a fraud. - For the first time, I know my son and he knows me.

This... This is just science, a disease.

But what you have done with my son is a miracle.

She's gone.

It's God's will.

...committed by evil use of sight, hearing,

smell, taste and speech, touch,

ability to walk.

Amen.

- Which books would you like me to pack? - We won't have room.

The violin, then. We must bring this.

I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry. - What?

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to hurt Maria.

I don't want to leave. I'll be better, I promise.

Please. I'll think whatever you want me to think. I just want to stay!

Martín, look at me.

I can only imagine how confusing this must be for you.

This is not your fault.

None of this is your fault.

None of it.

Now come help me pack.

- Padre. - I'm ready.

Your things?

I have all that I need.

Very good.

- They're coming for him. - Martín, come inside. Come.

If the worst should happen.

No.

They would be cruel.

You know what? Martín...

Why don't you play some music for me? I think that would...

- That would make me feel better. - Sí, señora.

Martín!

Martín...

Let's go.

Let's get him to the horses.

Come!

Come!

These take you to the cold cellar. Here.

Antonio!

Good luck, Doctor.

Nicolás?

Temo!

- Mátalo! - Sach'aqa.

Yes.

Sach'aqa.

Martín.

Get behind me, Martín!

Mátalo!

Martín! No!

Amen!

!¡Papá!

Mátalo! Mátalo! Mátalo!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

Mátalo! Mátalo! Mátalo!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

!¡La mato yo, la bruja!

Martín!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

Nicolás...

People...

They won't understand.

I killed those men.

That's not what I saw.

I killed them. That's what you saw.

Nothing else.

What will become of him?

I will protect him.

He will be safe...

and happy.

Martín...

It's time we take our trip.