All language subtitles for Madam Beja (2026) S01E25

I can't stand you anymore, Bernarda!

Always dressed in black, like a vulture.

You sneak out at night like a bitch.

Do you want to ruin
your reputation even more?

I don't care what they say.

You should, you bitch!

It was that levity
that killed your mother!

You killed my mother!

It's alright, mother.

It's alright.

Won't your sister come down to eat?

She was brushing her hair.

I'm all done.

I made a braid like yours.

-Where did you get that?
-The pants?

In your wardrobe!

Take that off.

Put on a dress.

Go.

You'll change, too?

I won't. But you will.

Better not challenge the colonel
or you'll get whipped.

Go.

MADAM BEJA

What did you do with the books
you got from Madam Constance?

I hid them.

You hid them?

Imagine the girls sifting
through the Kama Sutra

like it's the Adventures of Telemachus!

You wanted access to that information
when you were younger.

Before I had daughters, my friend.

Now I just want them to get married,
have children,

and that they're accepted by society.

It's strange to see you speak like that.

You are a powerful woman
precisely because of your audacity,

your curiosity, your freedom.

That freedom

made me, and still makes me,
pay quite a high price.

I don't want my daughters
to go through what I did.

You think you can spare them
from suffering by getting them wed?

Or forbidding them from pants?

You are Madam Beja,

the owner of Araxá,

only because you made
yourself free, my dear.

Freedom is a heavy burden, dear.

It gives you choices,
and choices demand responsibilities.

What's better,

being free and living as a marginal?

Or living according to society
in order to be accepted?

More smiling, girls!

This is a place of pleasure!

Why do you think Beja isn't with us?

-No clue.
-Girls.

Less talk, more dedication, please.

-Again.
-Yes.

Beja?

-Yes?
-I came to check if you felt off.

-Why?
-It's the first time you don't join us.

I'm very tired.

Some nights I don't even want
to get on stage.

You can count on me.

If you'd like me to lay
with the colonels in your stead.

No. Thank you.

To the men of Araxá I am the only Beja.

And to those that aren't from here
and never visited?

Can't I travel as Madam Beja?

-I did that so much when...
-Olívia, forget it.

We've talked about this.
It was necessary, at the time.

Do you remember Col. Jordão?

I don't want you risking your life.

This is the life I asked God for.

-Really?
-Yes.

I want something better.

Yes? Better than having a job,
a bed and food?

And even pleasure?

Better than being
just one of Beja's girls,

when I could instead be the new Beja.

There's nothing "new" about you.

Rômulo!

How old do you think the boss is?

And how old are you?

Are you with me, or against me?

With you, my little treat.

With you.

What's that for?

If you want to be Madam Beja,

you'll have to

wear a crown.

It's called a diadem, you idiot!

Rômulo!

What are you laughing at?

You're a crass man,

but when you think,
you can have good ideas.

I gave you a good idea?

I can be Madam Beja
outside of Araxá again!

Without anyone knowing it!

To do that, I just need a crown.

A toast to uncle Felizardo,

who cared for our farm
like it was his for all of these years.

I could've done more, but,

your workers,
even when they're paid for their work,

are quite slow and so full of wants.

Not in my farm.

In my farm, the workers do as I say
and they don't even get paid.

All this rotten "freedom" business
does these people a lot of harm.

In my farm, "these people,"

my people,

will never work in chains,
nor without payment.

You'd only stand to gain
if you did the same in your lands.

I can handle my own business, Antônio.

And life on the capital?

-I wanted...
-Shut up, Genoveva!

A woman wants nothing.

Seventeen years later,
my brother is still ever the bronco.

And you, shut your mouth.

Respect him,
he's head of the family now.

In case you haven't noticed,
dear brother,

it's your mouth that Antônio
can't wait to see shut.

What the fuck, Ceci?

You're drinking?

And next, dear sister?

Will we see you drinking
with the whores at the tavern?

-You offend me.
-You offend your family!

How could a good, faithful woman
drink cachaça like a man?

Don't make things worse.

I just want to know
what's happening with my mother.

My son...

This house is full of ghosts.

So much pain.

So much regret.

I don't want to go back in that room.

Alright.

We'll sort out another room for you.

Good, then I won't have to change rooms.

What?

Where else should I be?
That's the best room.

Alright, uncle.

You and Mrs. Genoveva can continue
to sleep in my parents' room.

Not your parents'.

Your father's not here.

You're crying because you're drunk.

You should be beaten.

You'll be alright.

I'm sorry, my son.

I'm sorry.

I'll never drink again.

I promise. Never again. Not one drop.

I promise.

It's a shame I can't go
to the Donkey's Creek today.

That water is magical.
That mud rejuvenates.

Beja.

You are still young.

And lovely.

Time passes for everyone,
Severina, but women,

they're run over by it.

Wrinkles, white hairs, poor disposition.

I know I've become
a more interesting woman with age.

But who cares about that?

I've been thinking about what will be
of the Estate of Jatobá,

once Madam Beja is old
and brings no clients.

-Maybe another girl takes your place?
-Another? Olívia?

You know she'll make
the other girls lay, too.

What will I do with the girls
and the estate,

when I stop working?

What if the Estate of Jatobá
becomes a tea house?

Do you really think the ladies of Araxá
will visit this place?

You're getting married!

You have daughters
and you live in a mansion!

You're like any
respectable woman from here.

Like any...

but not quite.

I'll think on it. On your suggestion.

What Araxá needs,

my dear councilors,
is to look to the future.

Why perpetuate the past?

This talk, again?

No one will pay these people
to do work they'll do for free!

You are mistaken, Col. Felizardo.

The captives' work is not for free.

Not for you, not any other colonel.

It's much more costly
to keep the blacks as slaves

than to use a free workforce
that is paid for their work.

Your ideas will find no ears here, João.

Especially not after the Haiti incident.

Do you know the first thing
the black people did

when they were freed?

They decapitated whites!

-Yes!
-They did...

-He's right.
-True.

You are warping the facts, sir.

If France had promoted freedom,

the slaves wouldn't have had
to do that with their own hands!

Exactly.

The violence against whites
was brought on by whites themselves!

-Do we want that here?
-No, never.

Be calm, gentlemen. Please, simmer down.

Do you want these people
to preside over Araxá's council?

An agitator?

João.

-What do you want, Colonel?
-More sensible ideas.

Like yours.

You support me,

but the others disagree with me.

I'd be a stupid man
if I disagreed as well.

And I'd have much less influence
over the local liberals.

I have a proposal.

If you agree with it,

I'll sign you up as candidate
for a position as deputy.

For the Liberal Party.

I've heard Antônio returned
to run for the Conservative Party.

Are you scared of competing with him?

Not fear, Colonel. Respect.

Though he's a conservative, he's fought
for causes that are mine, too.

He didn't achieve much,

but many at the capital listen to him.

But me? In Araxá?

I can barely speak.

-It won't be easy.
-Think on it.

I knew it!

Such an offer was bound to show up!
I was sure of it, João!

Let's say I win this election,
would you move to the capital with me?

And what would I do there?

Be wife to a deputy!

I bet you'll never be bored.

I bet none such activities
would make me any money.

I have my business here, João.

I will not leave it.

I will not mooch on any man.

João Mendonça had the temerity to refuse
my offer just because he'll marry Beja!

What is he now? A married little lady?

Who doesn't want to be paid for
and laid with by Beja everyday?

I'm truly sad that you're my son.

So mediocre. I still can't believe
you abandoned our farm, all these years.

You wanted me to work the land,
but never touch the money.

So, I was off to my lane.

I did well, because now my newspaper
is the most successful in the area.

Then you should help your father.

Why should I give you money?
To pay for your debauchery?

-The whores you spent your money on?
-Respect me, boy!

-I'm still your father!
-Love is paid for with love, dear dad.

I'm giving back to you
what you always gave to me.

Now, excuse me.

I have a newspaper to run.

If anyone can defend the interests
of Araxá in these upcoming elections,

it'd be my nephew, Antônio,

who's proven he's not afraid of a fight.

And the matter of the captives?

Do you still intend on fighting
to change their working conditions?

Mr. Judge,

everyone knows that I fight
for the freedom of the captives.

But I want everything done
within the law and order.

Slowly, gradually, and safely.

With measures
of compensation for the blacks,

and indemnifying the farmers, of course.

-Yes!
-Excellent, excellent!

With indemnification,
the load is lighter.

I believe everyone agrees that my nephew

is the Conservative Party's best shot
at winning the upcoming elections.

-No?
-Yes, of course. Of course he is.

Well,

I accept candidacy with much honor.

"...to whom sunlight, in vain, so dares.

-A poppy, or a delicate rose..."
-Dear God.

What was that, Vicente?

Forgive me, grandma.
This book truly moves me.

Costa Pinto!

Whose blasted idea was it
to give this boy a poetry book?

Why, Vicente?

-You didn't like it?
-No, I love it!

I'd spend all night with the words
of Tomás Gonzaga!

-Lovely!
-Spend your nights at the tavern!

Well, Vicente...

You're a man now.

As your grandma says,

-you must learn how to please...
-For God's sake, Costa Pinto!

Not how to "please!"

-No?
-He needs to learn how to lay with them!

Vicente, go to bed. Go.

-But, what...
-No poetry.

-Good night, grandma.
-Good night.

God bless you, son.

My husband,

if you're unable to teach
that boy how to be a man,

then I will do that my very own self!

Before he becomes...

a useless man!

Like his father.

All he did was cry!
All he did was recite poetry!

Honorato.

He was a sensitive man.

Did we do the right thing, Augusta?

Making it up that he and Carminha died

on that carriage
that fell off the cliff?

Being the child of dead parents
beats being the child of criminals.

And what's more,

at this point, that lie is now truth.

Yes, the entire town believes it.

It's better that way.

Well, at least,

you now have a son,
which I could not give to you.

Who said I didn't like
having the daughter I had?

You're right.

I went too far.

Hit me. Hit me!

Maybe I'll learn!

Go rest, my old woman, go rest.

"After years living in sins
and in shadows,

Madam Beja and João Mendonça
are finally getting married.

The question is:

Will God bless such a marriage?"

I thought you should know,
so I brought the newspaper.

I've made that brat swallow
what he wrote of me once.

And now?

I'll do better.

I'll ignore him.

Do you know why?

Because I won.

I've been sent cow shit on a platter,
attacked with tomatoes and eggs.

-Now they flatter me.
-Of course.

The church bell, the fountain...

Before Araxá was deemed a town,
all of those deeds were your doing.

-They know it.
-But I want more.

I'll get married and things will change.

Instead of rejection or compliments,
I will have respect.

I admire your tenacity,
Beja, but look at me.

I have money,

I have culture, a husband and a son.

And even still, the people
of Araxá do not respect me.

To them, I'll always be a captive.

And you,

a courtesan.

I believe in time,
and the changes that it brings.

Yesterday, you lived
in the shadows of your husband,

now you're a renowned painter.

I find inspiration in the courage
of women like you and Severina.

Today, I'm a courtesan.
Tomorrow, I could be anything!

What more could you want to be, Beja?

A good mother.

I don't want my daughters
to be ashamed of me.

I always knew my mother was different
from the other women,

it was never a problem to me.

And it's not a problem to be myself.

What would society be
without courtesans?

But I can't make my daughters see
the world the way I see it.

Or make the world see my daughters
the way I see them.

And, for my love for them,

I'll make an effort to change
everything I believe must change.

It seems you have a plan.

Severina suggested
I change the estate into a tea house.

That's a wonderful idea!

I will invite all the faithful women
for a petit comité.

To celebrate my engagement.

-Get it?
-You are going to fold these women.

Only then will Araxá truly bow to me.

Did you sleep well?

I couldn't sleep.

Did something happen?

You came to bed
stinking of cheap perfume.

Go bathe.

I'll ask them to change the bedsheets
so I'll be rid of this smell.

Jealousy? Now, Angélica? Please.

My husband,

I don't care
how many women you lay with.

As long as you don't come home
stinking like a whorehouse.

And stay away from Beja.

Going out?

I don't owe you explanations.

But here's a hint: read the newspaper.

It was good,
learning to read at the capital.

That's the only way I could find out
that Beja and João are getting married.

Seems like you heard
about Beja's marriage.

Beja is in the past, Valdo.

But your daughter
is around here, grown up.

Don't you care about her?

When I left, Beja made it very clear
that I have no children.

Beja was hurt.

The girl has your blood.

Valdo, I wrote a few letters.

I even asked about the girl,
and Beja never responded.

I'm only a stranger to this girl.

It's better to leave it.

And Maria? Are you thinking...

She's being treated
very well at the convent.

Be at ease.

Maria.

I missed you!

How are you?

Maria?

It's me.

Angélica, your sister.

I know who you are,
and everyone else in our family.

A soulless family, capable of...

abandoning me here for years.

-My God...
-No!

I'm so sorry...

You needed help, Maria.

And now, our mother needs help.

And if you agree,

I can have Antônio authorize your leave,

and you can come with me,
back to the farm.

No! No! I don't want to leave!

I'm not leaving. Leave me alone.

Get out of here, Angélica!

Leave me be! I don't want to go!

I'm not going!

Leave me! Go away!

-Maria, settle down!
-No! I told her!

-Stop.
-I told her I'll stay!

Go away, Angélica!

What are we doing here, grandma?

Doing what your grandpa can't do!

Mrs. Augusta?

-What happened?
-It's time my grandson became a man!

Come.

-No.
-Go, boy! Go!

Do you want to sit?

Relax.

Come here.

The first time is difficult.

But then you'll like it.

I don't want to do this way.

-Don't you like girls?
-No, I do like them.

I do, but...

I just think that this,
my coming here...

it's very strange.

Sorry.

I didn't mean to offend.

If every man thought the way you do,

our lives would be much, much easier.

But, tell me,

what do you think
is so strange, exactly?

Well,

I wanted my first time to be...

with someone that I like.

I think that I am

a bit of a romantic.

Like the poets.

I love poetry.

-Really?
-Yes!

-Do you know Gonçalves de Magalhães?
-No.

Tell me one.

"I love the flowers.

How gently they change,
that passions explain

what the heart feels intently.

I love the longing, the perfect love.

But the sigh - I carry it in my heart."

At long last!

I thought you'd killed my grandson!

So?

Mrs. Augusta,

your grandson is a real man
among very few.

Yes?

What a surprise, my boy!

Come back whenever.

Hallelujah, my Lord!

Come. Let's go, quickly!
Before they see me here!

All the women have been invited.

Excellent.

My petit comité
will be quite something.

Do we need an invite, too?

Of course not, you're coming with.

-Your mother picked out jewelry for you.
-My goodness!

We'll get to wear your jewelry?

I can hardly believe it!

You'll be formerly introduced
to the society of Araxá.

-My princesses, my treasures.
-Your dolls.

I doubt the two of us can improve
your reputation in this town.

Enter.

The kitchen bill? Leave it there.

I'm finishing up the estate's orders.

It's kitchen-related,

but it's much nicer
than running numbers.

"Dried meat paçoca,
sweet rice and pequi..."

Wait, this is your writing!

You wrote a recipe book, Severina?

All the recipes
my mother taught me are there.

My friend, this is so precious!

I am always moved when I cook.

It's like my mother's with me.

Let's leave all this here.

We're getting to work right now,
we have much to do!

You sent for me, son?

I went through father's clothes
to see if anything would fit me,

and I found this letter,

in the pocket of the suit
he wore when he died.

What is it?

It's from Our Lady
of the Rosary of Black Men,

denying him a place he was promised
because he married you.

-I was always an honest woman.
-But not your family!

My father

lost his position because he married
the daughter of a trafficker of blacks!

-Son.
-That's what the letter says!

It's no use denying it, mother.
There was an investigation.

Your father wanted
to take that risk to marry me,

he made that sacrifice out of love!

What you call sacrifice,
I call hypocrisy.

My father decided to marry
the daughter of a criminal!

My grandfather was a man who treated
my people, the blacks, like merchandise!

And yet he didn't let me marry
the woman I chose.

Son, what your father did is done!
Why mull this over now?

This letter renders void

the promise he made me make him,
the night that he died.

What do you mean?
What are you going to do?

If your father,
my grandfather, was alive,

I'd report him to the law,

which is what should have been done!

But now,

adding all this information up,

I can see my father not only protected
his future father-in-law,

but also helped him flee to Portugal.

And all of it just to marry you.

-My son, all of that is in the past!
-Exactly.

In the past.

That's where my promise is now.

Don't say that.

-Respect his memory!
-What memory?

Of a man who made me
abandon my own daughter?

After ruining
his reputation just for you?

It's past the time I become
the father I should have been.

Years ago.

What use is all this if no one comes?

What use is the education
mom affords you if you're so rude?

The issue is hypocrisy.

She tries not to be herself,
and won't let us be ourselves.

And you only ever see the negatives.

Look around you.

Look at the mansion you live in!

Look! See!

Look how lovely you are!

But your eyes are trained
to see only sadness.

-You didn't get that from me.
-Then who?

My unknown father?

I'd much rather know who he is
than to live in this luxury.

We know how you afford this.

-Don't talk to her like that!
-I will!

Stop it. Enough!

Don't fight because of me!

Leave it, mom.

I'll talk to her.

Teresa.

I don't know what to do anymore.

She's very difficult.

Teresa is too young, Beja.

But time will help you. She will mature.

I doubt she'll give up
on knowing her father.

And that, Beja,
you'll have to figure out.

I'll never wear anything of hers!

-Don't be a child, Teresa.
-You're a child.

You pretend everything's normal

and she's like the others,
but she's not!

She isn't! And that's great!
The other mothers look like dolls!

They're ladies, Joana.

-They're good women.
-And our mom isn't good?

Good to a fault.

Especially with men.

Why do you say that?

You really don't know
where she gets all this money?

-These jewels?
-I don't want to judge her.

But society does.

That's why we'll never be respected.
Not here, not anywhere else.

When people hear our mother
lays with men for money,

-they'll look at us funny.
-And so what?

Don't wives lay with their husbands?
What's it matter?

Will someone come?

Cynical, ill-mannered!

If these women think they can
disrespect me so, they're mistaken!

You don't need their approval.

I think they're here.

Thank you.

What are you doing here?

I came to meet my daughter.

She isn't here.

-Go.
-Where is she?

I have the right to see my daughter.

So now you have no doubts
you are her father?

If you insist on stopping me,
I'll take her by force.

I'll do what I have to.

I'm a man. I'm stronger.

-I'm her father.
-I'm her mother.

No one takes a child from their mother.

Then get ready, because I'll fight.

I'll make you regret
treating me like this.