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Look here, baby.

Come, here, come!

Please, stop it already!

Give me a break!
Just stay there, please!

Stay, already!

What picture is Mommy?

What picture is Mommy?

You hit the baby, asshole!

I didn't know she had a baby, asshole.

Beto!

Mrs. Esperanza, open the door!

Mrs. Esperanza, open the door!
Don't be rude!

Calm down.

Tomás, Tomás!

Are you still listening to this?

You're going to go stay
with your brother in the city for a while.

I can't handle you anymore.

I just can't.

SOUTH

Fede.

Fede.

Fede.

So, what was the other myth?

The one about The Wonder Years.

That Marilyn Manson was the guy.

Or the one about the kid in Africa

next to a vulture about to eat her,

and that the photographer committed
suicide, supposedly over that.

Morning, lazy bones.

Damn it, Tomy.
When did you get in?

I waited at the station for hours
and you didn't pick me up.

You blew it, Tomy. I said, "Maybe."

I waited at the station for hours.

I said, "Maybe."

- I thought you were at the march.
- What march?

You blew it.

- I'm going to take the cab fare, man.
- What march?

Did you bring the money?

No, that's gross, Tomás.
That's what wallets are for.

Don't you have a wallet?

How long are you staying?

Mom says to take good care of it.

She's not sending more
until next month.

This is Santos.

Why aren't you dark-skinned
like Sombra?

- Who is Sombra?
- You can't call me that.

- Why not, man?
- Because I'll break your legs.

How is Mom?

Fine, as usual. Mad.

What about the woman's baby?

It was fine.

"THE DEMANDS ARE NOT NEGOTIABLE"
SAY THE JAILED STUDENTS

Don't you have anything for breakfast?

- What's this?
- It's the gore wall.

Why don't we have a proper breakfast?

Continental breakfast, my treat.

But what the fuck are they talking about
with continental breakfast?

What continent are they talking about?

It's like saying,
"The kind of breakfast they eat over there."

Who are they over there?

And who are we here?

- Can I put something on?
- No.

That was Flaco de Oro
for the classic lovers

on contraband FM shortwave
and long resistance pirate radio.

Dedicated to the friend
who loaned it to me.

Sombrilla, wherever you are,

finders keepers.

Who's that?

Ana.

A snob from Tropical Literature
who took over the radio station.

You're the one just sitting around.

Monday, Monday, Monday,

lazy Monday, striking Monday,

and still it moves.

Because the suits' plans never rest.

This Thursday at 4:00 p.m.

is the general assembly
in the main auditorium

to vote on the proposal
to take over the TV stations.

It's up to you if we keep fighting
or go back to class.

How about this little classic
from the Cadillacs

for the resistance?

What did you want to put on?

You still listen to this?

The cassette player is broken.

What is it?

Something my dad found.

Let me see.

Epigmenio Cruz.

Cool.

Once, he made Bob Dylan cry.

That's what Dad used to say.

This dude could have saved Mexican rock.

Hi, Sombra.

- How are you, sweetie?
- Here I am at the window.

Is your mom there?
Has she left?

Yeah, Mom has gone.

Aurora, this is Tomás.
He is my brother.

Hello, Tomás.

You're not dark-skinned.

Hey, Aurora, I want to show Tomás
that orange cord.

Mom said, "No."

Remember, the orange cord

is like the bond of friendship
between Santos, you and me.

Mom said, "No."

Come on, sweetie,
and I'll tell you another story.

Okay.

- Ready?
- Yes.

And when he awoke...

the dinosaur was still there.

- Did you like it?
- No.

Come on, pass me the orange cord.

Look.

That's my school,
and that is the movement's flag.

- Can we visit your department?
- No. It's occupied.

Everything is occupied.
No one can get in because it's occupied.

Don't you ever go to the marches?

Or to extracurricular classes?

- Are you scabs?
- Don't even say that word as a joke.

What then?

We are on strike from the strike.

Thanks, sweetie.
I'll tell you another story later.

Pass me the cord.

Do they really live there?

Can't you see?

The people from the student movement.

This morning
I was going over my notebooks,

and I found this poem
I wrote first semester.

It reminded me of what we were saying
on the show yesterday

about being far from home,

if we even ever had one.

Friends, you are not the only ones
with a bottomless pit in your belly.

Here goes. Ready?

"Extension of home."

We stare at the ruins

as if we recognized
traces of home in them,

as if each stone could tell us
of the spaces we grew up in.

So many collapsed fragments.

But this pile of stones,
one on top of the other,

this pile of stones is home,

and no one will demolish it now.

"Let home be everywhere," one of us said.

And we gather to take it in our hands,

to hold it out to our dearest places,

to throw it forcefully into the water,

into the highest branches of the trees

and the intimacy of the wells.

So the stones of the home
may mingle with the rest of the stones.

So, at night,
we can lie on the warm ground

and be sheltered without walls or roof.

You're here on contraband FM,

and still it moves.

Aurora's parents are home.

Now what?

Time for bed.

It's 8:00.
Let's go somewhere.

Why go out
if we're coming back again soon?

Aurora...

are you asleep?

Is the tiger there?

Yes, he's here.

Right next to me.

Do you want him to go away?

Tell him to go away.

Go away, Mr. Tiger. Go away.

Leave Sombra alone.

He's still here.

I understand Mexican breakfast.

Eggs, beans, grease. Mexican.

College breakfast: Coffee and bread
with beans and cheese.

What are we doing today?

Pick a card and show it to Santos.
Then put it back, but don't let me see it.

Ready?

Your card will come up here.

Fuck.

But if they start charging tuition,
college breakfast will be coffee only.

Then there's the English breakfast.

A sausage cut in two,
tea and right on time.

Let's see, assholes,

what the fuck are they talking about
with continental breakfast

if it's only juice and bread?

What continent are they talking about?

ROCK LEGEND IS DYING

No way!
Epigmenio is going to die.

Epigmenio, who?

Cruz. You know anyone else?

It can't be.

"Epigmenio Cruz,
anonymous hero of Mexican rock

was admitted to Santa Clara Hospital
yesterday with severe cirrhosis.

The doctors are not optimistic" ‒

What else?

That's it.

He's gone.

Wow.

I combed my hair.

I used gel,
thinking it would be a good day.

A moment of silence for Epigmenio.

Another damn moment of silence.

I've spent three days
in your fucking silence.

Don't call me Tomy, damn you, Sombra.

- Tomy, don't be disrespectful.
- Why did I comb my hair?

He hasn't died yet, man.

Let's go see him. Fuck!

Why go see him?

Because no one else
will go see him, you asshole!

- Look, man ‒
- Enough!

- Stop it, you brat!
- Asshole!

I have to do my thesis, understand?
My fucking thesis!

Fuck your thesis, asshole!

Fuck your strike and your fucking life!

He'll be back.

We should go look for him.

What time is it?

Ready, Aurora?

- Thanks, Auro.
- Bye.

- What are you doing, honey?
- Nothing.

What do you mean, "Nothing"?

- What are you doing?
- Hello, ma'am.

Don't you, "Hello, ma'am," me!

I told you to go study or march
or whatever,

but stop bothering my daughter
and running up my electricity bill.

Okay, thank you.

"Okay, thank you"?

It's all gone to hell.
Where are the keys?

Where are the keys, man?

Let's go.

Let's go, man!

Come on, Sombra!
He's gonna beat the shit out of us!

Let's go, let's go!

Hurry!

Let's go to the car.

Get in!

I'll kill you, son of a bitch!

The tiger is coming!

Tomás, get in!

- Get in!
- Coming!

Breathe!

I know where the hospital is.

Relax, breathe.

- What, man?
- It's nothing, relax.

The tiger got him.

- What?
- Relax.

What tiger, man?

Breathe, man.

Fede.

Fede.

Man!

WEST

- He's not here.
- Miss, the newspaper says he is here.

He's not here.

Do you know who Epigmenio Cruz is?

Do you know
who Martha Paredes de Alba is?

Then we're even.

Maybe Epigmenio Cruz is his stage name.

You'd have to be fucking stupid
to use Epigmenio as a stage name.

Who do you think they will eliminate,
young man?

What?

Who will they eliminate?

From here?

From Big Brother.

Day 65. Chema begins to suspect
that he's living in a TV studio.

The confinement has started
to wreak havoc with Chema's sanity.

Who are you waiting for, young man?

I'm dying.

Young man ‒

- I'm dying.
- No, don't say that, young man.

Don't say that.

Young man, don't say that.

Don't say that.

No, I'm not dying.

I'm not dying.

No, I'm not ‒

- What is your name?
- We've been here five minutes.

Mister, you can't go in.

He was here.

He left this morning or last night.

He's been here twice before.

Today he was scheduled for a colonoscopy.

His liver is like sandpaper, man.

We told him the first time,
but there's nothing to be done anyway.

- Leo.
- Yes, Doctor?

Did you hear from that guy Epigenio
who was in Ward Three?

No, Doctor.

The last time he was here,
they lent him a guitar,

and he sang a birthday song to Leo.

He couldn't even walk,
but he was hitting on her.

That was his bed, over there.

Are you all right, man?

Come here, let me take a look at you.

He was here.

The tiger?

Have you ever stood in front
of an enormous tiger roaring in your face,

feeling his breath?

You know that he could
tear your face off in one bite...

and there's nothing you can do.

Have you felt that?

No.

Well, that's how I feel,
but without the tiger.

I'm afraid I'm going crazy.

When I was doing
my social service in Pitaya,

I was on the bus going there
for the first time

when two guys stopped us up
in the mountains aiming guns at everyone.

Right here at my temple.

And the women were screaming.

One fainted.

Fucking panic everywhere, really bad.

The bastards.

Anyway, about two weeks later,
when I was working at the clinic,

they brought in a guy
with a gunshot wound in the stomach.

The guy was bleeding out,
he wasn't going to make it.

They put him on the table.

I opened his shirt and cleaned him.

I turned to look at his face,

and he was one of the guys
who held us up on the bus.

The guy who held a gun to me.

- I looked at him ‒
- Excuse me.

- Are you a relative of Mr. Epigenio?
- Epigmenio.

They left this for him at the reception
and I don't know how to reach him.

Could you give it to him?

Doctor, they need you in the ER.

Thanks, Leo. I'll be right there.

You're not going crazy.
It's called a panic attack.

It's very common.

Take a vacation.
Go to Veracruz with your girl.

You need to get some rest.

CHAPULTEPEC ZOO
SECURITY GUARD

- Is the zoo very far?
- Yes.

- Maybe he's working there.
- Yeah?

He ran away from a colonoscopy
to go to work.

We'll go see if he's there.
If not, we get a pizza and call it quits.

- Do whatever you want.
- We're going to the zoo.

And talking about loneliness,
here's something my friend wrote.

"The Crane."

I'd never seen one so close before.

When I found her hidden in the boat
down by the shore,

her eyes still moved back and forth,

as if looking were a way of moving,
of getting away from there.

Her wings were broken,
and her long neck, elegant as the rushes,

barely showed a few feathers,
covered in mud.

The red ants were eating
from the open wound,

drinking the bird blood
flowing out of its side.

The crane was barely breathing

when the handle of the oar I held
crushed her skull.

Did you write that?

I'm leaving you with these classic ‒

Do you know what would make
me feel really bad?

What?

Listening to the chick
I really like on the radio

while a dumbass like Furia
is making out with her.

Do you know what would
make me feel really bad, dude?

What?

Keep going. Straight.

Straight ahead, man. There.

- You said, "Right."
- Straight, man.

Fuck!
You never pay attention, man.

- We'll get lost.
- You drive, then.

I will drive, then.

Shit, I think Tomás
drives better than you.

- You said, "Right."
- You never pay attention, man.

- I think there is a street down there ‒
- Why don't you ask?

Fuck, it's a dead end.

Back it is.

What's up?

Hi, to get to the avenue?

The what?

We're heading south
toward the college.

You really are lost, güeritos.

Don't call me güerito.

- What?
- Nothing.

- We want to get to the avenue.
- I heard you.

But it's a bitch getting out of here.

How about it?

If you give me a ride,
I'll show you the way.

Are you game?

You're on.

Make a left at the first corner.

At the next one, a right.

A right, man.

What's up, güerito?

Don't tell me you're afraid of me?

That gang back there
was going to slice you up.

Stop up here.

That's it.

First, you're gonna buy me some brews.

Don't hurt my brother, let him go.

Chill, dude.

Bottoms up on a count of three.

One,

two,

three!

Now the second thing.

Another round.

No way.

What are you doing?

What are you doing, man?

Wait, you wusses!

- Stop.
- What?

- Stop!
- I can't, Tomás.

Stop!

What's the matter, Tomás?

Are you all right?

Are you okay?

It's all over.

Calm down, it's over.

Everything is all right.

That dude wanted to kill us.

No, Tomás, he just wanted friends.

What? Why not?
Maybe he just wanted to make friends.

We all need a friend.

Where are we?

In Mexico City.

Good afternoon.

Santos.

What are you doing?
Leave that!

- Santos, no.
- They're good.

- They're good.
- Let's go.

These are perfect.
They are very small.

Do you think Epigmenio is still alive?

Let's see what they tell us
tomorrow at the zoo.

Where are we?

No, it can't be. No way.

- What?
- No way.

How did we get back to the school?

Well, it's time to go home

so Sombra can get some rest
like the doctor said.

I want to go in.

We can't.
Can't you see it's occupied?

No, we can't go home.

Aurora's dad will hang me up by my balls.

Santos.

You, stay here.

Where are you going?

Good evening.

We're going to the assembly, of course.

But the assembly started a long time ago.

That's why.

We're going to vote.
We're with you.

No, you can't go in.
Damn scabbies.

Don't use that word
if you don't know what it means, friend.

It means you're damn strike breakers.

It means "squirrel" in Catalan, asshole.

A small pet in its cage, like you,

in that fucking cage you built.

- Open up.
- Damn you, Sombra.

- What's up, Manchas?
- How's it hanging, Oso?

Don't fuck up again.

You let the wrong ones in
and keep the right ones out.

Pay attention, dude.

- What's up, man?
- How are tricks, Oso?

Give me a lift, okay?

We're going to the auditorium.
Give us a break, man.

Sure, Oso.

COLLEGE CAMPUS

I think the ideas are okay.

But that's why you get confused
when cleaning bathrooms

because you think that organizations
are the leaders of the revolution

and the revolution is only in big events.

But the event of washing a bathroom

or cooking for your companions
is a revolutionary event.

Don't people have a right
to be in the middle?

It depends,
I'm not defending that right.

I mean, I respect it and all.
I let you in, didn't I?

- You and this dude.
- But it's our school, man.

It's not your call who gets in.

Why should you have to let me in,
when it's not yours?

It belongs to me and you

and a lot of people
who never get to come here.

Only the group inside
has a right to an opinion,

and the others are out

because they didn't join the consensus,
they didn't come.

- Then it isn't an inclusive movement.
- Because there's no structure.

Exactly, so whoever
is not in the structure is outside.

- That's how the PRI was formed.
- No, that's not true.

You don't want to be on strike?
What are you doing to change things?

If I don't accept your position ‒

Aside from rotting in your room,
what do you do, dude?

If I don't accept your position ‒

You're rotting in your room
and not bathing, stealing electricity.

What other shit do you do?

Do I have to accept other people
imposing on me?

Are you saying they steal your electricity?

What do you think about
the screenplay of this movie?

The screenplay?
Man, it's really good.

No, tell us the truth.

Tell the truth. Say it, man. Go.

- What?
- Elaborate.

I've said it many times
about the screenplay of this movie.

Personally, I think it's pretty bad.

I think it's a chase movie.

- Fuck it, man, whatever.
- And about getting beaten up.

You leave your barrio and get chased.

And besides being chased,
the car doesn't start.

You go to the assembly
and get chased.

And besides,
you are the heroes of the movie.

The antiheroes.

No, man, you're the heroes.
That's what doesn't seem right to me.

Where are you going?

- To the assembly.
- To the assembly, right?

Okay, man,
I'm going to clean bathrooms.

Take care.

Take care, bro.

Maybe you can learn more
than these wusses.

See you, pretty boys.

Hey, speaking of brunettes,
there's Sombrilla.

Shit.

Hey there, counselor, what's up?

And Santos, if you can believe it.

I thought you'd gone to another country.

Look, this is my kid brother.
He really is from abroad.

He must be foreign,
he looks undercooked, man.

- How are you?
- Fine.

- Must've been no wood for the stove.
- That's it.

I'm glad you made it to the assembly,
it's looking bad.

I smell onions.

The guys from the main market
gave us five tons of onions,

and the damn things never end.

Onion soup, onion pie,
everything with fucking onions.

It's the smell of the strike.

I quote Martí.

"A school is a forge for spirits.

Friends,
we have spirit but we lack temper,

and temper is the brother of temperance."

The Poli Sci Department proposal of
taking over the TV stations tomorrow night,

far from creating the good will we want,

is only going to make us
more enemies.

The Latin American Studies Department

proposes instead
a silent march to the TV stations.

We need to reach an agreement.

Is that the one from the radio?

There are factions among us
who keep making statements

and yelling slogans not included
in the petition signed by the majority.

Tell the güera to shut up
and yank my dick!

The media keeps calling us bums,
fossils, comfort seekers, rich kids.

They yell at us on the streets
to go back to school,

and, friends, that shows
media manipulation

but also our inability to agree.

Excuse me,

but what we need is a broader base

that includes everyone and where
we all back the demands of everyone.

That's it!

How the fuck can you say we are not
the voice of the others at this point?

There are a bunch of people
in this country no one listens to.

Who's he?

- Nobody.
- Her boyfriend.

- He's nobody.
- Her boyfriend.

That's the typical bourgeois
neoliberal attitude of the UNAM wusses.

The way to fight neoliberalism
is by defending public education, asshole.

Friend, I'm going to ask you
not to get personal, okay?

What do you mean,
"Don't get personal," Anita?

Come off it.

This movement is personal and anyone
who doesn't think so can fuck off!

Striptease! Striptease!

I don't want to get personal,
or else we'll have to talk about the guys

who use the movement
to hit on really young girls,

because before the strike
they couldn't even score in the morgue.

Shut up, you classist whore!

Who's talking about classes?

The thing is to beat the dean
and be strong at the march tomorrow.

I'd rather see her strip!

Striptease! Striptease!

Shut up, asshole,
and let her talk, naco!

What are you doing?

Who did you call naco, dipshit?

You, asshole, and your dad
and your faggot grandpa!

You prick!
Tell it to my face, asshole.

- How much is the government paying you?
- The fuck I get paid, you PRD plant.

- You don't even know what naco means.
- And you do, asshole.

It means "cactus"
in the Opata language.

- Get in touch with your roots, punk.
- Sure thing, Mr. Cactus Head.

What are you doing, man?

Let's go.

First educate
the children of the workers!

Later educate
the children of the bourgeois!

First educate
the children of the workers!

Later educate
the children of the bourgeois!

TO BE YOUNG AND NOT A
REVOLUTIONARY IS A CONTRADICTION

What are you doing here?

Are you crazy?
You'll get yourself killed.

They won't kill me. Don't worry.

Say, "Hi," then.

Hi, Ani.

- How are you?
- Fine.

And you?

This is my little brother Tomás.

But you're not dark-skinned
like your brother.

You're better looking than he is.

Nice to meet you.

Now, let's get out of here.

How long have you been
away from home?

This is my home.
These are my brothers.

Cut the crap.
These dudes hate you.

They don't hate me.

That's the point, to argue.
Brothers argue.

My dorm, it sucks.

The whole gang from Spanish Literature
and Latin American Studies is here.

This is the posh part.

English literature, French literature,
the best zip codes,

and they have mattresses and all.

And what have you
and your brothers achieved?

Are you serious?

First off, you'll have to drop out
if they start charging tuition.

But you won't, right?

Middle Earth.

Those are the History majors
and all the Anthropology students.

They spend all day
playing role-playing games,

drawing miniatures
and dreaming they live in Beverly Hills.

This is my work.

When's the last time you talked
to your real brothers, to your mom?

What about you?

You only call them
to ask for money.

Ana, your folks were here
during the incident of '68.

My mom didn't even finish junior high.
She doesn't understand this.

BE CULTURED TO BE FREE
JOSÉ MARTÍ

Yes, give me some.
Is it okay?

Can I grab a piece of bread?
Cool. Thank you.

Mom sent Tomás
for me to take care of.

- Yeah?
- For a while.

So why haven't you come to see me?

You're an idiot.

Let's go to your department,

and you can show me your thesis.

Forget it, man. It's too far.

So, what do you think of all this?

Hey, Sombra, I'll go with Tomás.

Okay, man.

- Want to meet up later?
- Sure.

Well, I don't know,
it's more organized.

What about me?

You're the same.

Skinnier. Stinkier.

Come off it!

- Don't you miss school?
- No.

- Do you?
- Sometimes.

- Why don't you go to another school?
- I'd rather not.

What's your thesis on?

On molecular diversity in rhizoids

and their symbiotic genes
as indicators of the degree of conservation

and the potential
for restoring tropical forests.

Faster.

On molecular diversity in rhizoids

and their symbiotic genes
as indicators of the degree of conservation

and the potential
for restoring tropical forests.

This is it.

Was it.

Are you stupid, or what?

I'm sorry.

What is he doing?

What are you doing, idiot?

What are you doing?

Pumas!

TODAY?

What would Siqueiros say?

He'd probably agree.

Nothing lasts forever, Ana.
Everything gets destroyed.

- Who are we going to see?
- Are you coming with us?

Epigmenio Cruz.

Who is that?

I've never heard anything like that.

Once, he made Bob Dylan cry.

Well, let's go.

The zoo opens at 10:00.

Let's go to your house first.

All I need are some cold brews,
music and to get out of here.

There are only two beers left,

and they are warm.

We'll buy some at Oxxo,

and we'll listen to Epigmenio
in the living room.

The stereo doesn't work.

Then we'll watch a movie.

The TV doesn't either.

Wait a minute, man. Chill.
Give me some smokes.

Sorry, I'm closing.

The ones that ‒

You won't?

For real? For real?

He says he's closed.

There are people in there, man.

Just a pack of cigarettes.

Really. For real?

You're not going to sell us
some cigarettes?

- What's up with him?
- I think he doesn't have a tongue.

- He's a mute.
- Let us in.

Can you talk?
Teach him how to talk, man.

- Can you talk?
- I can talk.

Hey.

- Don't be such a dick.
- Tongue fight!

- Don't be such pricks with Cranky.
- Don't be like that.

- What's going on?
- Hey, dude, some fucking beers, man.

What's up? We just want him
to let us buy some cigarettes.

He already closed it.

The only thing he closed
was his mouth.

But he's working.

You and your beers
aren't going to give us a break.

He's working, let him be.

Don't touch me.
Why are you touching me, son?

Peñaloza, Peñaloza.

Friend!

- How's it going?
- What's your beef with him?

Nothing,
we just want some cigarettes.

- They're closed already.
- Relax. We're going to a party.

We're going to Diego's movie premiere.
What's his name?

Darrida, Barrida? Darriba.

Darriba.

It's the premiere and we have passes.

- Come with us.
- No, I'm with my friends.

Come on, bring Grumpy.

What are you looking at, Sombrilla?

You said you wanted to party, right?

Then, grin and bear it.

Let's go back to the
Young and the Damned.

- The tone is better.
- Much nicer.

What happened?
Did they cut your hair?

- Don't be mean.
- Sorry.

Don't I look like Jaibo?

Yeah, but nastier.

Just do like this, look.

When you talk or say anything,
cock your head.

And say things with truth from inside.

From within,
even if your body doesn't obey you.

Now, some more accents.

Let me see.

There's the Indian
from the golden age of Mexican cinema.

You play the part so well,
better than anyone.

Better than anyone in this car.

Let me see.

Me as indio Tizoc
and you as Miss Maria.

Are you sure it's this way?

Yes.

It's there, isn't it?

It looks like this is it.

CENTER

I don't buy it at all.

It isn't showing the Mexico
we should be showing.

I thought it was a recipe
for living a lie.

I don't think so. I think
it's a very particular point of view.

- It's bullshit!
- It's the unseen Mexico.

The people who attend
festivals are like this.

Ana.

I'm glad you made it.

Hello.

This is the director
I was telling you about.

To Diego.

- What's your name?
- Ana.

- Ana, are you an actress?
- No.

Good.

Fucking Mexican cinema.

They grab a bunch of beggars,
shoot it in black-and-white

and say they are making art films.

And the fucking directors, not content
with the humiliation of the conquest,

go to the Old World
and tell the French critics

that our country is full of pigs,
derelicts, diabetics, sellouts,

thieves, frauds,
traitors, drunks, whoremongers,

people with inferiority complexes
and the precocious.

And it is.

But if they're going to humiliate us,
they should do it with their own money,

not with the taxpayers' money.

Have you seen the movie?

Listen...

shall we go, or do you want
to stay here with the upper classes?

How about you?
You seem right at home.

You don't need Furia to fit in here.

What did you say?

What did you say?

I mean, I don't think
you'd bring him here.

He might ruin your reputation
with your friends.

What's the matter with you?

Damn it!

Cool it!

Help me get out.

Little seals.

Okay, güeros, out you go.
You can't be in there.

Why not?
Pools are for swimming, aren't they?

You can't be in there.

And who are you calling güero?

Please, get out.

First tell me
who you were calling güero

because I don't see any here.

Who did you call güero?

- Get out.
- Do I look like a güero to you?

- Am I güero?
- Yes, please get out.

So is he güero too, asshole?

Is this what you call güero, you dick?

Does he seem güero to you?

This guy is güero?
Tell me if this guy is güero.

Get out, you can't be in there.

Tell me yes or no, asshole.

- Is this guy güero or not?
- Yes, get out.

Cut the bullshit, man.
What the fuck are you?

Color-blind.

Yes, color blind and dumb.

We just ‒

We just came to clean the pool.
You can use it now.

Good night.

That's it. That's it.

What's up?

Santos.

You have to help me push.

But I can't.

There's no one here.

What shall we do?

Wait.

That's my story, brother.

I come from a sad, poor country,
where they train four-year-olds to kill.

There are Mexicans
in the guerrilla group there.

It was hard. I lost family members,
but I didn't lose myself.

I don't know how to thank the Mexicans
who gave me bread and shoes.

Forgive me, I feel like crying,
but the people here don't know it.

They may mock me and call me a liar,

but, I'm telling you,
I'm alive because God exists.

For God, "All our righteous acts
are like filthy rags."

Now, I want to vindicate myself
through good deeds.

I want to start a new life
and give testimony as a Jesuit priest

and serve young people.

Let me tell you something.
I remember ‒

I remember my grandma telling me,
"No matter where you go, behave."

Like it says in the Koran ‒

"A man without hope is like a beast."

Forgive me for wanting to cry,

but I have experienced that
and it stayed with me.

What now?

How do we get out of here?

For them to come and stay here,

you have to put your hands here
and move them like this.

They think you are in heat.

- Did you see?
- They got excited.

Hello?

Hello?

Mom.

Ana?

Who were you calling, Furia?
Furia, come pick me up!

Yes, and he says he's going
to beat the shit out of you.

So?

He's not here.

He hasn't been here all week.

Since he was hospitalized.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah, they checked.

I told you, man.

- But he's alive.
- But he's not here, I told you so.

The good news is,

it seems the cleaning woman
looks after him.

So we can wait for her shift to start
and ask her.

Okay.

When does their shift end?

Ready?

Why did you bring me here?

You're always talking about him.

There he is.

Relax.

Breathe.

You're such an idiot.

Take a good look.

He's really beautiful.

His gaze,
weary of watching the bars pass by,

retains nothing else.

He thinks the whole world
is looking through those bars.

And beyond that,

nothing.

I taught you about Rilke.

- Tell me something.
- One thing.

Why didn't you invite me out
first semester?

I did, we went to the Cineteca.

Yeah, with Furia.
You were the third wheel.

Why didn't you invite me before?

The truth?

The truth.

Were you looking for me?

Hello.

He took all my records.

Do you know if he still plays?

I think he pawned his guitar
a long time ago.

I don't know.

Sorry I can't help you.

May I?

My brother wanted him to sign it.

Of course not.

I haven't seen this in years.

This picture was taken at Avándaro.

How do you know?

Because that's me.

I didn't know he played at Avándaro.

He didn't.

They took this picture the day
before he was to play.

Do you really want to hear this?

It was taken on the first day
of the Avándaro festival on September 11.

Epigmenio was to play
on day two before El Tri.

So why didn't he play?

He hit on the girlfriend
of the producer, Armando.

You.

We all used to hit
on each other back then.

Armando and Epigmenio were best friends.

We'd been at the concert all day.

We were really stoned.

Epigmenio started in about
how we three should make love.

We started to kiss, first Armando and me.

Then, Epigmenio
was kissing Armando, then me.

So far so good.

But Epigmenio wanted to be with me.

He started grabbing me.

Armando told him to stop.

So Epigmenio proposed a bet.

He said,

"If I can take your woman's clothes off
without touching her,

I spend the night with her."

Armando, who was really wasted,
accepted the challenge.

Epigmenio turned to me and said,

"Take off your clothes, Isabel."

And I did...

without him touching me.

But he traded a concert for a woman.

But what a woman.

I think it was stupid.

We had all been looking forward
to his set.

All of us who knew about music.

When you heard Epigmenio, you felt ‒

I don't know.

You felt like you went far from home.

We all wanted to go far from home.

If they had given him a chance to play,

all those kids
would have discovered him.

But he always spoiled things.

He always spoils things.

He left something behind.

I don't think it will be much help.

He's been drawing
on these place mats for years.

He was kind enough to leave me
four boxes of that crap at home.

And where is this Viejos Lobos cantina?

Is Texcoco far?

- Not very.
- Yes, very.

...to a father that was our everything,

who always gave sound advice,

who was loving to his wife ‒

Are we really going
all the way to Texcoco?

On the other hand, we have one more
that says the following.

We thank God for all the beautiful
moments we spent together ‒

Shit!

Shit. Fuck, the march.

- What march?
- Oh, no, it's really late.

How could I have forgotten?
What a dumbass!

I don't think you can make it.

They must be looking for me.

Who's going to be looking for you, Ana?

Furia.

Ana, better never than late.

There's no one at the station,
they all went to the march.

This is the traffic report.

Students are marching
to the airport from Zócalo square.

Two main thoroughfares are closed.

You lucky ones listening to us
at home, don't go out.

Now let's listen to this pretty tune ‒

...Canning Company Inc. Would like
to express our profound regret

for the unfortunate accident of
our driver, Alejandro Zárate Cotija

who was found dead after five days
in a parking lot

inside the vehicle he always
drove for the company.

We wish we had found him earlier.

Would someone notice if we were dead?

This is a terrible loss
for our company

and we mourn him
together with his loving family.

EAST

Wait a minute, asshole!
Stop running!

Stop running, asshole!

Chill out, man!

Stop running, asshole!

- Don't be stupid.
- Hold on, man.

We're cool.

Let's go, man.

Come on, man.

THAT'S HOW IT GOES SOMETIMES

We've already driven past here.

No, we haven't.

You missed the last exit for Texcoco.

- I told you to turn right.
- No, you said, "Straight."

- Right.
- You said, "Straight."

He said, "Right."

Shut up.
You were sleeping.

At least I don't get lost.

Things that start with a "C."
For example: Casa.

We're going to die
and it's your fault.

How is it my fault?
Listen, idiot. How is it my fault?

- I live really far away from him.
- It's your fucking fault.

Go fuck yourself.

- Shut the fuck up!
- Fucking idiot!

Fucking hell!

All they're doing is sleeping
and playing dumb!

And I get to be the idiot
who drives them all over the place!

- Are you okay?
- What was that?

- What was that?
- Are you okay?

It was those dudes,
over there on the bridge.

Son of a bitch.

- What are you doing?
- Follow us!

Why did you do that, dumbass?

- Why did you do that?
- All right, already.

You're going to take us home
and pay for the windshield.

Sombra!

Why do you drop bricks from bridges?

Why do you drop bricks from bridges?
What the hell were you thinking?

Shall I go straight or turn around?

I'm talking to you!

Don't hit him, idiot.
He's just a kid.

Straight or right?

Right.

Why do you drop bricks from bridges?

- There's the cantina.
- What cantina?

Viejos Lobos, man.

- You're kidding.
- It's right there!

Back there.

Look, man,
we have business there.

When we come out, you're going
to take us home and pay us.

I'm going to let you go
and you wait here.

Deal?

All right.

Boss, give me four oatmeal pulques

and whatever the gentleman
at the table is drinking.

Pineapple juice.

Hey, is that Epigmenio Cruz?

Yes, it is.

Tomás.

Hello, Epigmenio.

Sorry to disturb you.

I'm Tomás Ruiz...

and I come from Veracruz...

and I want you to sign this for me.

Is it true you once made Bob Dylan cry?

Who the fuck are you

and what the fuck
are you doing in my house?

I'm sorry we came unannounced.

This is my brother Tomás.

I'm Federico.

This is Santos, and Ana.

We came...

because my brother and I
listened to you all the time.

Because I haven't slept in months
or left my house

until Tomás came.

But I want to tell you ‒

The thing is ‒

Look, this cassette was my dad's.

He showed it to me many years ago.

He's not with us anymore.

It's your music.

At first, I didn't understand any of it,

but now I understand.

I understand what you're saying.

I understand what my dad understood.

That you run into a lot of assholes
in life who don't get it,

who don't know what lies behind things.

A sordid world, you know.

But no matter what happens,
if you have that...

if you can see what's behind things...

the only thing they can't take away
from you is that feeling.

You wrote it.

You said, "That feeling."

Now I know what feeling
you were talking about.

Dad used to say, "If the world is
a train station and people passengers,

the poets aren't the ones
who come and go

but those who stay at the station
watching the trains go."

That's why Dad cried
whenever he heard your broken voice.

Because you are the kind
who watches the trains departing.

Please.

Is he dead?

He's asleep.

What were you going to tell me at the zoo?

- I just remembered.
- What?

Where are we?

In Mexico City.

Ana, where are you going?

Sombra, where are you going?

Fede!

Fede!

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