Original subtitles

Without sugar.

You see?

I'm learning to remember.

Look, she's welcoming us.

I'll like it here. I know.

Is this a sign?

Let's stay and never go back.

I mean, what are we really forgetting in New York or in Veniceburg, Virginia?

Just two unhappy families.

Maybe this is the happiness that begins after.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.

Who's married tonight?

I thought it was a beginning.

And I'm not sure life is a fairy tale, too.

Though you are my beautiful princess.

I guess I really am modern -day royalty.

Since the newspapers call Daddy a stock market king.

Kiss me.

Maybe I'll turn back into a frog.

Welcome to Lesbos, Mr.

and Mrs. Lovell.

I am Dionysius.

Call me Phil.

May I present my wife, Sappho. I am enchanted, Kyria.

She is a painter, yes.

Madam is also an artist?

No, Madame's a housewife. She doesn't even paint her face.

Madame is likely a star in the movie pictures.

How do you like our island's light, Mr.

Lovell? It feels so real. Raise the shadow.

Alas, our light is all we have to call our own.

Lesbos is now just a factory that breeds babies for export.

To your new world.

We Greeks are unparadoxical people.

We say ne when we say yes.

We nod when we mean no.

The angrier we are, the more we smile.

And we glory that we invented modern civilization, and yet we live lost in

past.

Here's the motor car.

You see how very backwards we are.

This is the only automobile on the whole island.

But, madam, driving is not for a lady.

Welcome to 1926. If a girl can vote, why can't she drive?

Please, slow down, Mrs. Lambert.

Brakes are for power.

Welcome to Villa Byron.

This is Maria.

She is the woman. She will cook and clean.

The child is called Christos because only God knows who is his father.

He is his mother's shame.

What an odd cat.

What's its name?

Cassandra. Cassandra.

Where shall I put your parrots? They're not parrots. They're lovebirds.

You can put them on the table.

Don't open it.

What are you doing?

Surely they will escape.

The cage is their home, not their prison. And lovebirds will only sing if

they're free to fly away.

Wow. Who built this ruin?

An English lord. He was quite mad.

He wrote poetry and loved boys.

But, as you can see, he was very rich.

Even the paintings are all old masters.

Come.

Look.

It's the ghost of the mad English lord.

Is not the house splendid?

Your father's instructions were that only the best they would do.

Yes, Daddy has calculated his investment will yield the return of a grandson.

Quite, of course.

Now, I shall leave you alone.

So, how do you like your new home, Mrs. Lovell?

It's just fine.

Just like my new husband.

Do you always wake up so early?

Uh -huh.

Where'd you get the waistcoat?

It was hanging in the cupboard.

Don't you like it?

It looks good on you, but it's what the men here wear.

So? People like us shouldn't follow fashions.

We should lead them.

And here's one for you, too.

Now we can really look like brother and sister.

If you're my sister and not my wife, this would be incest.

Well, did you know incest is an anagram of nicest?

And don't call me your wife. It's such a bourgeois word.

Mistress for life sounds so much better.

Hey, I was painting that.

How do you see all these colors?

Must be the creative type.

That makes us the perfect couple.

I'm the destructive type.

Back home, people think you struck pay dirt with me.

But you don't know how unlucky you are.

I'll annihilate you.

And all that will be left of you is a broken cross to mark your unkept grave.

I'm looking forward to the day.

Now let's go for a swim.

That's an order.

What are you waiting for? The sea is wonderful.

What's wrong? Haven't you ever seen a grown man in swimming trunks before?

Let's come out as far as we can.

I can't swim any further.

Let's dive down so deep that we can only just make it back up. Okay, but I won't

believe you've touched the bottom unless you bring up a pebble.

It was too busy saving your life.

Do you know what that is?

Is it some kind of dove?

It's a prayer.

Long ago, women used to make offerings like these to Aphrodite, the great

goddess of love.

Well, it's a sign.

It must mean that she approves of my plans.

What plans?

I don't know.

I haven't made them yet.

Come on, I'll race you back to the shore.

It's all right. No one can see us.

Don't you want to be tan like an antelope and not striped like a zebra?

I'm shy.

You're beautiful.

I read in the Times that with this, it's calculated.

That sun's getting hotter every year.

Someday we'll all be fried like fritters on a griddle.

Well, that's good.

I'd like to bake until I'm black.

Why would you want to do that?

I don't know.

Why do we want anything?

You're an artist. You should know what desire doesn't need a reason.

It just is.

Or isn't.

And besides, won't you like it when I wear my tan in bed?

I'll love it.

But you'll get sunburned.

Uh -uh.

I'm dark on the inside, really. The sun just develops it, like a photograph.

Promise me that we'll sunbathe here every day until we're changed.

What do you want us to become?

Us, of course.

Only different.

Reversed.

It hurt?

Like on the boat? Are you men really such numbskulls?

It was like seeing another color in the rainbow.

A color on my own.

My nanny never told me it could be like that for a woman.

Hmm.

Long ago, when the world was young, the Greek gods once quarreled over who

received more pleasure in bed, a man or a woman.

So they visited a blind seer named Griseus, who one day was a man and the

day a woman.

And they asked him her, his, her opinion.

And Griseus replied that as a woman, she received ten times.

More pleasure than he was ever given.

Poor Phil.

Lucky Phil.

Every artist must learn that what matters most is what you give, not what

get.

I... Why do men always want to know in words?

I am tonight.

Isn't that enough for you?

There's my muse.

You look nice.

What's the big occasion?

Are you bored of me yet?

No, I'm not bored of you.

I want to grow old with you.

And you do love me, don't you?

You love me just the way I am?

Yes.

Of course, yes. Why? Why do you ask?

Because I'm bored of me.

I'm bored of being this nice, decent girl that everybody else wants me to be.

just want you to be yourself.

Well, that's good, because I want to be different.

What do you mean, different?

That's my surprise.

Wait, I'll come with you. No, you stay and finish my portrait.

She's next. She's perfect. I'll go see her.

You are welcome.

You speak English.

I was a sailor. I learned it in the ships.

But I think madam has made a mistake.

I only cut gentleman's hair. No.

There is no mistake.

I want you to cut my hair short.

Very short.

Like a boy's.

But madam, I have read that such experiments are made in Paris or New

But here, on this island?

Are you sure?

Do you want to destroy your beauty?

Madame is quite sure.

She has wanted this for a very long time. But Madame is married.

It is not possible. I am not my husband's property.

And I will pay very well.

You do not mind?

I worry how people might gossip.

May I disturb you? Is it you who arrived a few weeks ago on the boat?

You look so lovely. So changed.

That was my caterpillar face.

Now I'm a butterfly.

May I sit down?

I feel like we've met before.

Never. At least not in this lifetime.

Let's have a drink?

Helen.

Helen Orlova.

Sappho Lovell.

Sappho? Do you know the history of your name?

I know it was the name my mother chose for me. She died giving me birth.

You have a namesake. A poetess who lived here 2 ,500 years ago.

She made the silence famous.

Let me take you to the museum. You can meet her there.

Uh, isn't it a little too early for spirits?

Why should men be allowed all the fun?

To new friends?

That's Zaffa.

That's all it says.

Actually, it was painted 50 years after her death.

She doesn't look like me one bit.

What's written there?

It's a stanza of her poetry.

Some men say nothing on a dark, salt earth says lovely is infantry on parade.

Other men say cavalry or swift warships.

But I say loveless is whom you love.

That's beautiful.

We know that Safa wrote nine books of poetry, and that she was so famous that

her profile was minted on the local coins.

But the only Christians burned her works.

Why would the monks burn her work if she was so well -known?

Because it was love poetry written by a woman to women.

It was Safa who put the lesbian in Lesbos.

How is it that you know so much about her?

My father is a professor of archaeology.

He's working on an excavation here. Because of Lenin and the revolution, we

can't go back to Russia.

Come on. I'll show you what else is kept locked up in here.

Where are we?

This is where we hide our most interesting finds from the public.

What on earth is that?

It's a prapus. It's a hormonal penis.

In ancient times, they placed a statue like this in every orchard. To scare off

thieves and to fertilize the trees.

Hi, what have you been doing all day?

I was making a new friend.

Well, am I good likeness to my picture?

You're beautiful.

Now we really look like brothers.

Wasn't I good to do it?

Maybe. But you'll get a sunburnt neck.

Don't lie, Philip Lovell. I can feel how much you like it.

Aren't you worried what people will say?

This isn't New York. There are no people here.

And anyways, why should we care what people think?

Pleasure is good.

Pain is bad.

Shame is painless.

That's my new philosophy.

I brought you visit a father.

Oh,

I'm enchanted.

You don't remember, by any chance, some of your

poetry? Oh, I'm sorry. I don't speak a word of Greek.

Such a pity.

Please. What are you looking for in these ruins?

Glory! 25 centuries ago, this was one of the greatest

cities of the civilized world.

Don't laugh.

Don't laugh.

Thunder Young New York will look like this, and archaeologists will excavate

the ruins of its skyscrapers.

and speculate over the significance of a cheap coffee cup.

Huh.

Father is a follower of Pythagoras. Oh, like Pythagoras' triangle?

He invented the musical scale, too.

Pythagoras believes that life is like a wheel that repeats the same story over

and over as it turns.

And what do you think?

I believe that we can't step into the same river twice.

Pythagoras said that too.

Good girl, thank you.

Lemonade?

Oh, no, no, father.

Thank you.

Come on, I want to show you where I go when I want to be alone.

Goodbye, father.

Helen!

Where are we?

This was once the temple of Apollo, god of the sun.

According to the legend, lovers tormented by unrequited desire would

to Apollo.

And then they would leap off this cliff into the sea, down there.

If they survived their leap of faith, they were cured of their passion. And if

they didn't survive then, they were healed of their love all the same.

Well, that's some way to fall out of love.

They say Sapphodite here.

Out of love for a fisherman.

But I thought you said she loved women.

Sometimes. If we are lucky enough to love somebody, who cares if it's a boy

girl?

Love is what is love.

Aren't you scared?

It's a long way down to fall.

I want to know what it feels like to be a bird.

I trust the wind.

Why did you do that? I wanted to. And if you wanted it too, then it's all right.

I've never been with a girl.

Not when you were at school?

Didn't you even practice kissing?

It was forbidden.

We were washed all the time.

It was forbidden in my school too, but we all did it.

If you like, I can be a girl.

I'm not that sort.

I'm sorry.

Will you still love me when I'm old and useless for making love?

You're too young to ever be old.

I'm not.

I'm as ancient as beauty herself.

This flesh and blood and bone is just my latest costume.

You never said you believed in reincarnation.

Maybe I do.

That moth could be me, Phil.

She loved the light too much to fear the flame.

Don't be so tragic.

I've only just started out, but already it's too late to stop.

Stop what?

You.

Me, the change.

There's nothing I can do about it.

What are you trying to prove?

That at least I'm not a coward.

You're bold.

You're brave.

You're beautiful.

There's no need to hurt yourself.

And I thought every man dreamt of wearing a masochist.

You know, they say they make the most missive wives.

Bottoms up.

Do we have to talk to my father?

Good morning.

Good morning.

Her mother was a violinist.

Someday, when the revolution is over, we will go home and she will play concerts

too. Do you play?

Only the gramophone.

I have no talent for anything.

Just good taste.

Very expensively purchased.

What are those? They look like fossilized Easter eggs.

These?

Is how we began.

What? They're making love?

Long ago, the first people were all like this.

Sometimes they walked and crawled. But mostly they rolled around like a ball.

What happened?

Then one day the gods decided to kill them all.

Why? Because they were too happy.

But then...

said she knew how the new people could be made to need the gods.

And then Aphrodite took a strand of her golden hair and cut all the people in

two. So that one half became a man and one half became a woman.

But here are two women.

That is how Aphrodite made the lesbians.

We are all the love.

Goddess is work. And then the new half -people threw their arms around their

other half -necks and locked their mouths together, longing to be whole

However, no matter how much they made love, the half -people still felt

incomplete.

So soon, the new half -people began to lie and to deceive and even to

that they had a true other half who could make them whole.

And as the half -people begged all the gods up in heaven for help, the gods all

grew fed on their prayers and sacrifices.

This is how love came into the world.

Hello. I thought I'd never see you again.

Here I am.

How do you like me as a boy?

Very much.

Let's go for a bicycle ride.

Have you finished playing?

About cannot always be drunk.

Or it will break.

And a man cannot always work.

Or he will go mad.

Those are your words, Sappho.

Slow down.

Stop.

He must get so bored on this island.

Sometimes, don't you?

Honestly, I get bored of being a girl.

It'd be so wonderful to really be a boy and not have to worry about getting

pregnant or bleeding after death every month.

At least you have a man.

But I thought you said you loved women. What else is a girl to do?

All our men killed one another in the World War.

That's me.

That bear.

Hanging hopelessly at the tip of that topless branch.

Overlooked?

Unpicked?

No, not overlooked.

Unreached. Well, let's climb up and get it.

What's that for?

I'll feel free.

Now promise me, whatever I do, you won't say a word.

Or move a muscle.

Not even one muscle?

All right.

We did it, fellas.

We did it.

Yes, now we've really done it.

Don't be such a coward, Phil.

It meant it.

You liked it.

Yeah, I liked it.

So no matter what happens now,

don't ever say it was all my fault.

How long have you thought about becoming a boy like that?

For years.

It's what my father always wanted.

A son.

And not a daughter.

Don't worry.

I'll never embarrass you in public.

I'll be your girl by day.

I'll only be your boy at night.

You crazy girl, you know that?

Then you must be crazy for loving me.

Where's everybody going?

Today's a holiday.

Every day's a holiday.

It's our honeymoon.

Today's a holiday for everybody else, too.

It's like the Fourth of July.

What's everyone celebrating?

It's the Beef of the Virgin.

Wait a minute.

I forgot the title. Christian.

We are, too. You may be. I never chose to be baptized.

And Christianity has restored far more than it's ever created.

The happy couple.

Good evening.

Ah, good afternoon.

Excuse me.

Mr.

and Mrs.

Philip Lovell.

You look so handsome, Mrs. Lovell.

How did you get?

I'm sorry, what did I guess?

How did you guess I'm a boy now?

That was just my way of words.

A fish cannot become a bird.

We all are what we are.

Why can't I become what I'd like if I'd like to be a boy? Why can't I become a

boy? Darling, you promised, remember?

He gets them changed. I don't know how.

Madam was pleased to joke with me, Mr. Lovell.

Madam is more woman than any woman I know.

Yes, I'm sure that was it. A joke.

Give my regards to your father, Mrs.

Lovell.

What's the news from home?

Well... Stock market hemlines are both soaring. Babe Ruth hit a new home run

record. And the mob are making millions importing moonshine from Canada. Because

Congress doesn't understand you can't forbid human nature.

Cheers.

I meant, what's in your letters?

Ah, the gallery.

Oh, two canvases.

Well, that's marvelous.

That's... Twice as many paintings as Vincent van Gogh ever sold in his

How's your father?

He's hoping I'm with child already.

Are you? No.

And I won't be forever.

You don't really want me to get fat and ugly and love some vile brat, not you,

do you?

Maybe I would someday.

Hello. I escaped from my father at last.

Helen, my husband, Phil.

Hello. Hello.

Please.

Thank you.

Phil's a painter.

He just sold his first two canvases. But he thinks he's a genius. And he's

determined to make the rest of the world believe it, too.

So what do you think?

Well, I think he's very handsome.

Just like an advertisement of a man.

He's a thoroughbred American aristocrat, too.

One of his ancestors bought Manhattan from a drunk Indian for 23 silver

and a bottle of whiskey.

So you're my wife's new friend.

Mm -hmm.

How did you do that?

Practice. He always does that when he wants to make a new friend.

I fell for it, too, the first time we met.

I have a present for you.

It's not a poison.

All that survives.

My mind's in two. I can't decide.

You came and I wanted you.

You deceived my mind as it blazed with desire.

And? What comes next?

It's lost.

We'll never know.

Well, perhaps we should start by ourselves.

Look, so medieval.

Let's investigate.

It's obscene. They all got through this island so much better than this weird

Jewish import.

What's so weird about Christianity?

What's so normal about a bastard child fantasizing that his mom's a virgin and

his runaway dad's almighty and all -merciful Lord God?

Maybe you're missing the point.

Yeah? And what's the point?

Love. But what kind of love? Love which thinks of desire as something shameful

and forbidden, and which makes suffering its meaning? Or love which is open and

unafraid and free?

See, that's just it, Phil.

Christianity began as a religion of slaves and of women, which in those days

the same thing.

It doesn't suit people like us. We should believe in desire and not in

and in life before death, not afterwards.

See? Look, let's have our picture taken. Won't Phil be offended?

Isn't it like trading with the enemy?

So what if he does mind?

Photography will soon make painting obsolete anyway.

Never. The camera only sees, it doesn't feel.

I think your husband's so handsome.

Is it all right?

Of course.

What man could ever object to having two women?

I mean, really, is it all right with you?

Why not?

We're modern people.

Let's all be in love with one another.

Really.

I'd like that.

It's so antique, though. It's like they're gonna make love.

May I confess something terrible?

I'm not a priest.

If you were a priest, I wouldn't tell you.

Is it so bad?

I'm in love with your wife.

I could be in love with my wife, too.

I could be in love with you, too.

Would you mind?

How could you be in love with two people at the same time?

Oh, that's easy.

It's only fairy tales that things like that happen.

We'll be good together.

Who will?

Love and I.

Kappo and you.

And you, then.

We're all wrong. We're not together.

We're just two people standing in a crowd.

How do you like my friend?

You're charming.

But she's in love with you.

She's in love with both of us, if I'm not crazy.

I kissed her, Phil.

But if you kiss her too, then I won't feel bad.

How do you like my present?

Do you really want her?

I don't know.

Yes, as an experiment.

It'd be strange and dangerous and pagan and fun.

It comes to each other to be faithful, remember?

I'm being faithful in my own way.

How can I be true to you if I'm not true to myself?

And besides, you don't want me to live a lie, do you?

See, I've been recaptured at last.

My father, Protector Vladimir Orlov, Mr. Philip Lovell. I am pleased to meet

you.

Hello.

Hey, what's he doing?

Ah, now he ignites the cannon to scare away the Turks for one more year.

That is how the festival always ends.

Excuse us, we must go.

Antiquity has been waiting 2 ,500 years, and it can't wait a moment longer. Good

night. Good night. Good night.

Come swimming tomorrow.

I'll do that.

Come in. The water's lovely.

You looked like an angel.

Come on.

It seems unfair that we're enjoying ourselves and that Phil is working.

Every artist must learn to be alone.

And besides, he's not really alone.

He's surrounded by millions of imaginary admirers.

Haven't you ever wanted to be an artist?

Why should I share this moment with some complete stranger in a picture gallery

or movie stop that's so vulgar?

I want to keep it all for myself.

But what about when you're dead?

Then I'll be dead.

If your father is right, we'll both relive this moment in a different

over and over and over.

I'd like that so much.

Hello? You're late.

Would you like something to drink?

Champagne.

How was your work?

Will you show me?

Someday when you're bored.

Who wants to make a toast?

To Aphrodite, goddess of the sea foam.

So what are we celebrating?

Can't you tell?

Don't I look changed?

Sappho.

We did it.

Now I really am a boy as well as a girl.

I should go.

My father will worry.

He knows where you are.

Stay the night.

Now you can kiss Phil.

I know you'd like that.

Sappho, no. This is wrong. You're my wife.

Don't be so unsophisticated.

It's not infidelity if we don't keep secrets.

We're just being generous with our bodies. Come on.

Okay. All right.

That's enough.

Now that we've shared around the guilt, we can all be happy.

Come dance with Helen, Phil.

I'm dying on my feet.

Are you still mad I kissed you?

Why should you care how I feel? I'm nothing to you.

I told you.

I'm in love with you.

You shouldn't say that.

Love is someone you die for. It's not this jazz of lust and egoism for two or

three or whatever number this is.

All right, then.

I'm in lust with you.

And I'm dancing in your arms.

Tell me, is that the best?

What does it say?

We're playing for the right to see your bed.

I'm trying to win, Phil, but you keep throwing doubles.

Don't I even get to choose who I sleep with?

Uh -uh.

You're a stud stallion.

We've planned out your diary.

We'll take turns at being your girl. One day at a time. Sunday will be your day

of rest.

This game is just to decide who goes first tonight.

Very funny.

Let's discuss something more serious.

I know, Helen.

Let's think of a way to end all wars.

Oh, that's easy. We just need to invent a way for men to give birth to children.

I want you to love Helene.

You can marry her if she likes.

I'm not a Turk. I can only have one wife, not two.

It's in the rules.

Don't be so boring, Phil.

There are no rules.

There's nothing that we can imagine that's not allowed.

Love is what is love.

Well, love is loyalty, too.

Don't you even care if I sleep with other women now?

You can sleep with other boys, too, if you'd like.

Will you marry my husband?

Yes.

That's perfect.

It makes it all so simple.

We can all be married to one another.

Would you really marry me?

Yes. Are you really asking me?

Well, Phil, have you got the ball?

Don't you understand?

No good will come of this game.

Theory might sound fine, but people aren't like that.

We'll take sides, get jealous.

They start to hate one another.

Just like what happens when two normal people get married?

Maybe that's how it is most times for most couples.

But it's the way nature meant it to be.

You see, Helen, that's what makes Phil such a bad painter.

He wants to be liked too much.

So he just paints ordinary pictures that ordinary people will buy.

Phil, come back.

I'm going for a walk.

Don't worry.

He'll be back sooner or later.

Good evening. We waited for you until sunset. Where were you?

Where's Sappho?

She's dreaming that she and Sappho come back to life. She says she loves me.

Oh, no.

Why don't you leave?

There's no future in all of this.

Because just now, I'm happy.

You're crazy, too.

Let's ask the girl to leave.

We could go home to America, begin over.

Home? This island's my home, Phil.

I can't go back to America no more than I can become a virgin again.

Their doors, once open, can never be closed.

But all I want is for you to be the girl I married.

Take a look at me as a girl, Phil.

Are you happy?

Yeah.

Then I'm happy for you.

Because I hate it.

Don't be it, then.

Didn't you just say you wanted me as a girl? Make up your mind, Phil, and stop

making me tear myself in two.

Don't you understand?

I love you.

I just want you to be yourself.

Then here I am.

That's Saffron.

What does that mean?

Wouldn't you like that?

Good evening.

I can see you both have had a good day.

What have you done to your hair?

Nothing.

It's so stuffy in here.

Do you mind helping me with my jacket, darling?

Oh, my God.

What have you done?

I had myself painted, too.

Ink on skin.

That's real art.

It hurts.

It shocks.

And it changes you forever.

But only sailors and whores.

I mean, how can we ever be seen in decent society again?

Well, that's just it.

We can't.

I've burned our boats.

Uzo's a wonderful drink.

It tastes as bittersweet as jealousy.

And yet it erases its effect.

You shouldn't drink it like that.

Why not?

Or do you want me to be jealous?

We only kissed.

And you said it was all right.

As lucky as a god, I think that man who sits beside you, hearing all for him,

your whispered small talk and your laugh of love,

Not knowing how it rips and tears my heart in two.

One glance from you and I'm half dead with fear.

My voice is broken.

Terror blinds my eye. My ears go deaf.

And flames snake through my veins.

A trembling haunts my limbs.

Sweat pours from me. My skin is scorched as white as withered grass. And I know.

If I can't have you, I'll die.

What was that?

Poetry.

I wrote it long ago.

In another lifetime.

You really don't think you're Sappho reincarnated, do you? Of course I'm

I always was.

But all we know for sure about the historical Sappho could be written on a

ticket. Her story's just a myth.

Well, you know what a wise man would call a myth?

A story that never happened, and yet always is.

So, who fucks whom tonight? Sappho, don't be vulgar. Since I'm paying, I

should decide.

Didn't Phil tell you?

See, I can now miss Nate.

I'm the boy here, not the girl.

My husband is Pennywise.

Of course, he comes from one of the rat families, but... His father was a

gambler. He swindled his mother out of every penny she had.

Then he shot his brains out in a Paris hotel room.

Don't be so offended, Phil.

A girl has the right to know these things before she sleeps with you.

Don't you think you've had enough to drink?

All right.

I have had enough.

You can screw Helen tonight because I can recommend her as a good lover.

I think you should stop now, suffer.

Why? I'm rich.

I'm beautiful.

Whatever I say, you'll forgive me. Ain't that so, painter boy?

Come on, let's go to bed.

Good night.

Try and get some sleep.

I'm sorry, Phil.

Let's go home.

There are people there that could help you.

Who, Phil?

I can't even help myself.

It's not me.

It's my nature.

I am who I am.

Len?

I couldn't sleep.

I'm moonbathing.

On the island they say that's how you go, Matt.

You live in the south, that's how.

Oh, Phil.

Saffa was rich, young, charming, beautiful.

You must have thought you'd won the lottery of life.

I don't think they print a winning ticket for that racket.

We all get what we deserve in the end.

And Molly, what do you deserve?

Good morning.

How is your head?

Is that a psychological question or a physiological question?

Just a polite one.

Then politely. Fine.

Did you make love with Phil?

Yes.

How was it?

Fine.

That's fine. Now we can all be happy.

You are jealous?

Okay, I'm jealous.

But you said it was alright.

I know how to make it alright.

I'm sorry.

Don't be annoyed.

I'm not annoyed, but... A few days ago you corrupted me and now you act like

a pervert when I try to kiss you?

Please, let's not quarrel.

We're not quarreling.

Don't you understand?

For you, I take opium.

I love you.

Don't say that.

Is it because Phil's a man?

I didn't even know what a lesbian was until I met you.

I'm sorry, Sappho.

I can't be your girl.

Never? Never.

But... You promised me.

You never did mean a word you said to me, did you? I did. I did.

Only then I didn't, too.

Sometimes we must have something to learn that we don't need. Yeah, and

sometimes we must lose something to learn that we must have it.

I better go.

What's wrong?

I don't know. I... I...

Where's Helen?

She went home.

I don't love you.

There. I've said it.

I feel so much better now.

Oh, I'm so happy for you.

I never did love you.

That just makes me even a bigger fool.

Now that's that, we can go on loving the same girl.

Tell me, if I buy you a pretty little slave boy to suck your cock, will you

leave the girl to me?

Or can you only be unfaithful to me with a woman?

Except for what?

Slave boys?

Oh yes, Abe Lincoln, Emancipation.

Where are my paintings?

What have you done?

I had to do it.

They were so ordinary.

No, you're just trying to scare me, aren't you?

Tell me you haven't touched them.

Why make such a fuss about a few worthless scraps at once?

Didn't I tell you?

Don't you understand?

That was my work.

My soul.

It was a cheap and common soul.

You need a head doctor. You're crazy.

No, I'm not. I'm just different.

And don't you think for one second that you can ship me back to America and lock

me up in a sumo style and a strap of left choice in my head in front of my

brains and fat in their pants?

Because I won't let you have my money so easily.

I want a divorce.

Don't you think it's a bit late to act the real man, Phil?

I am what you let me become.

I'm so sorry.

If you only knew how much I loved you.

Oh, Aphrodite on your rainbow throne, don't let this sorrow tear my heart in

two, but come to me as once you came before and make me whole.

Come as you came that day you left the clouds, and in your chariot drawn by

white doves you glided through the ever -swirling air, down to dark earth, and

smiling your immortal smile you asked.

Oh, Sappho, now what's wrong? Are you in love or out again?

Which girl is it this time? What must I do?

Or let her turn and run.

Soon she'll be back.

And let her taunt and tease.

Soon you'll see tears.

Because like it or not, I'll make her yours.

To love or loathe.

Oh, deathless goddess, come to me again.

And ease my pain.

All that my hurt heart hopes may happen.

Make happen.

And be in love.

Always, my friend.

I want to show you where I go when I want to be alone.

I'm learning Greek. I brought filled paints and brushes.

I haven't seen your husband.

Have you come to say goodbye?

Goodbye?

Aren't you going home? To America?

I am home.

This is left boat.

I'm a lesbian.

This is my home.

It's so boring. You are welcome to it.

It's like always and never.

The sea breaking against the rocks.

The one always wanting.

The other always denying.

It's the hardest thing, loving someone who doesn't love you.

I'm sorry.

It's not my fault.

Come and be my girl. To hear your footsteps.

To see your face.

I'd give the world.

I'm a woman now.

I want a husband, children, a home of my own. You can't give me what I want.

But it's you.

How it could be?

Yes. I'm Sappho. I really am.

You're my girl.

You really are.

You made me dream that I could fly.

No. We can't relieve the boss. But that's just what we do.

I and I and I and you and you and you. Over and over and over.

Now I understand.

You had this coin made?

I'm not a fool.

You can't trick me with a fake.

And I'm not a lesbian.

I don't love you. Why don't you understand?

I never want to see you again.

It was an easy mistake.

The theme professor says the coin is very old, from Sappho's own time.

We will place it in the town museum.

No, it's hers.

She'll need it to pay the ferryman to the other side.

We should have buried her here.

She wouldn't stay.

They will keep her on ice till America.

And her father was most insistent.

Of course, legally, you were still her husband's lover.

Your wife was rich in her own right.

It was my fault she killed herself.

There must be rules about things like this.

She's not herself.

It was a tragedy.

Your money is yours.

Phil? Safa left this for you.

I don't need them anymore.

Why paint a picture if it would just be destroyed?

Or why write a poem if it will only be burned?

You are an artist.

You should know that what matters is what you give and not what you get back.

You'd better go you'll miss the boat

Do

you think we have the right

What right to be happy we

yeah we

Love, honey bitter, wild, overwhelming,

shattered my limbs.