All language subtitles for Losing Ground 1982 1080p BluRay

But in Sartre
the question of absurdity has
clear historical antecedents.

For one, a violent need
to explain war.

Camus, Sartre,
the whole existential movement

is a consequence--

Or perhaps a better way
to put it is a reaction
to the consequences of war.

PROFESSOR:
The natural order--

(chuckles)
The natural order,
if there is such a thing,

has been violated.

Chaos exists,

not as
a mental possibility

but as a physical
and emotional fact.

War is chaos,

and war was
the existentialists'
primary reality.

♪♪ (headphones: jazz)
How to explain it in all
its terrifying horror

except by
acknowledging that--

That no explanation
satisfies,

that human existence
must be without rhyme,
without reason,

that in the face
of sustained horror

the argument for
an absurd universe

becomes the only
rational argument.

Now, there are precedents,
of course,
for this kind of thinking.

In Nietzsche,
for example,

in the logical positivist
hypothetical suspension
of causal connections.

But let's see
how you handle that
in your term papers.

I'm talked out.
You're free to leave,
unless there are questions.

Are we to include
a discussion of The Fall
in our papers, Professor Rogers?

Absolutely.
And at least one
of Sartre's plays.

Either No Exit
or The Flies.

I had a question
about that, Professor.

Where are they supposed to be
in No Exit?

They're in a room
with no windows
or mirrors.

The door is locked,
and they must endure
each other's company

without relief
or privacy.

And Sartre
defines this as hell.

Seems a plausible
definition to me.
(students laughing)

I got that book on Genet.
Oh, good.

It's the finest analysis
of being an outsider
I've ever read,

and it applies
as much to race
as it does to homosexuality.

Well, he talks of exclusion
in such clear terms.

He makes you see--

I mean,
really see and feel

how a society can impose
group definitions

that an individual
is powerless against.

Oh, it's a good book.
It's a wonderful book.

He touches every feeling,
every mental attitude
connected with exclusion.

I'm glad you found it.

There are books
that can make a difference
in a life.

Next week is our last class.

That's right.

You've been a good group.
I've enjoyed this class
tremendously.

You're terrific.

So alive and

terrific.

Well... thank you.

Your husband
appreciates you?

My husband?

I mean-- I-I-I bet
your husband appreciates you
tremendously.

You're so full of life.

That's very sweet.

I'll remember
to tell him.

Well, I'll see you
next semester
in Critical Approaches.

MAN (on radio):
A whole category of problems

revolve and revolve around
those abstract definitions

of what is or is not
acceptable as art.
(door closes)

- (woman)Victor?
- I'm in here!

(man continues talking
on radio)

What's the insane moment
for today?

- Just look in the refrigerator.
- Yeah?

- Go on.
- All right, all right.

Now what?

Just bring the whole tray.

Oh, boy.

- Come on. Bring it up.
- You mean you want me to climb up?

- It's a ceremony.
- Can't we have it on land?

(sighs)
Oh, Victor.

- (hiccups)
- (laughs)

Okay, okay.

- Oh, Victor, I'm falling!
- Aah! On your ass!

What are we celebrating?

Married to me for 10 years
and still can't say the word "ass"?

What are we celebrating?

They are buying
Landscapes in Blue, Sara.

The museum?

For their permanent collection.

- (sighs)
- I'm a genuine success!

Your husband is a genuine,

black success.

(both laughing)

MAN (on radio):
The black artist must have
absolute freedom

to interpret
his experience,

both stylistically
and in every other manner,

as would any other artist.

No demand can be considered
appropriate of him

other than the one
simple, clear mandate

that he interpret
that which is real for him

in a meaningful way.

Two more weeks!

Why don't we take a place
for the summer?

Where?

The place upstate where all those
Puerto Rican ladies

live in those old Victorian houses.

I dream about that place.

Yeah, well, you would. It's like a-- a--

A painting.

I know.

Why don't we take a house
for a month.

I need to be near a library.

They got libraries up there.

Those ladies read all the time.

You know what I think I'm gonna do?

I'll pass myself off as a housepainter.

I'm going from door to door
offering my services.

Si, si. Me encanta, me encanta.
Si, si.

On what basis did you arrive
at this conclusion?

All the data seemed to point
in that direction.

But that's the trap.
It's a purely speculative conclusion.

Any logician would stand you
on your head.

- Does that mean that I fail?
- Logically.

(chuckles) No, your term paper
takes you out of danger.

I like philosophy, but I don't like logic.

A lot of students don't.
Unfortunately, it is one
of the required courses.

Are you teaching Critical Approaches?

And an advanced course
in logical positivism.

- Which I suggest you avoid.
- (chuckles)

I still enjoyed the class.

It's mostly you, I guess.
(chuckles)

You're so bright
and lively.

A real inspiration.

Well, thank you.

And lucky, with a husband and all.

A husband?

What?

What is this thing they've all got
about my having a husband?

(man)
Got you in a close-up, Professor.

Oh, wow.

You look just like

Pearl McCormack
in The Scar of Shame,

Philadelphia Colored Players, 1927.

(Sara laughing)

I've always wanted to know
why, as a filmmaker,
you take so many of my classes.

You could be a movie star, Professor!

Dorothy Dandridge, Bright Road.

Gerald Mayer, MGM, 1953.

Any chance you'd act
in my senior project, Professor?

Who--

(laughing)
No.

(laughing continues)

Oh!

(laughing continues)

(footsteps
descending stairs)

(woman speaking Spanish)

(engine off)

(no audible dialogue)

(women speaking Spanish)

(woman speaking Spanish)

(laughing)

(women speaking Spanish)

WOMAN:
¡Ay! ¡Ay! ¡Ay!

Ah-ah-ah-ah-aah!

¡Échale! ¡Échale!

(trilling)
¡Ay! ¡Ay!

I'm sure he wouldn't mind
some kind of celebration,
just the three of us

(door slams)

I don't think that would
be such a good idea. He hates parties.

Huh? No, it's finished.
I turned in my grades today.

Yeah.

We can come on Friday, probably.
I'll ask.

All right.

Mama wants to celebrate with us.

You did these today in Riverview?

Yes.

See any houses?

Two.

Wanna drive up on Sunday?

Yeah.

What's the matter?

I feel light-headed.

Like I've been walking around
in a dream.

That place is unbelievable.

It's like a whole new universe
to paint.

You know, I could do
a whole series.

Today was like a

release.

That's what one of the houses
looked like.

It's pretty.

Any libraries around?

There's a small lending library.

But odds are good
they don't carry Kant or Hegel.

But you could drive down to New York
once or twice a week.

You wanna eat out?

We could.

I need to save my strength
for all that driving back and forth.

(sarcastically)
"Drive down to New York
once or twice a week."

If I did something artistic,
like write or act,

would that get me
a little more consideration?

If you were any good.

Nothing I do leads to ecstasy.

You stay in a trance.
You haven't noticed that?

A kind of private, ecstatic trance.

It's like living with a musician

who sits around all day
blowing his horn.

What's the matter?

Hegel and the boys let you down?

I could be another Dorothy Dandridge.

I'm so reasonable.

Uh, are you sure this hasn't got
something to do with your mother?

My mother?
Well, she's an actress, isn't she?

That was just an example.

I see.

Uh, look,
would you still like to go out and eat

and put this mulatto crisis on hold?

(laughing)
I'm sorry.

I was just thinking about your mother

and that bit she does
on the light-skinned Negro.

What does all this ethnic humor
have to do with anything?

Look, I'm fucking starving.

I've had two espressos.
All day.

SARA'S VOICE:
Yet our consciousness, delving down,

which reveals to us the deeper we go,

an ever more original
personality capable of
private ecstatic experience

that is often undefinable in words.

To call it ecstasy forces us to borrow
from the theologians

who have used the word in terms
of man's immediate connectedness
and/or apprehension of--

MAN: What on earth are you reading?

I've rarely seen anyone read with
such concentration.

Why are you reading
with such concentration?

I'm doing research for a paper

on ecstatic experience.

From a theological perspective,
no doubt.

No, though I'm using religious ecstasy
as a point of departure.

Whose?

Saint Thomas Aquinas,
with his rational repression
of the experience?

Or Saint Theresa,
who was a truly remarkable woman?

Or we can go back a little further
to the deviant Gnostics

who were really pre-Christian
in their thinking.

Man in more intuitive harmony
with the divine, et cetera, et cetera.

A definite psychic orientation.

What's the thesis of your paper?

That the religious boundaries
around ecstasy are too narrow.

That if, as the Christians define it,

ecstasy is an immediate
apprehension of the divine--

- Hmm.
- then the divine is energy.

Amorphous energy.

Artists, for example, have frequent
ecstatic experiences.

That's a lucid approach.
It's definitely pre-Christian.

Christianity has had
a devastating effect upon man
as an intuitive creature.

- Wouldn't you say?
- Who are you?

(scoffs)
In which life?

In this life, I am an out-of-work actor

who once studied for the ministry.

In other lives, so the psychics tell me,

I have been an Italian count,
an English lord,

even a Confederate soldier.

Apparently, this is
my first incarnation

as a Negro.

I must have built up
a lot of karmic debt.

(laughing)

You think that's funny?

Victor?

I'm sorry I'm late.

I got talking to this
really wonderful man in the library,

and I just lost track of the time.

What-- I can't hear you.

I can meet you at Mama's.

No, it would probably be easier.

All right.

♪♪ (jazz: man singing)

To my son-in-law. That's what
happens when you have children.

They beget husbands and paintings,

and soon we're talking
about museums and galleries,

and the whole world
becomes larger than life.

(laughs)

I always knew you'd try hard
not to be a failure.

Oh, you're concerned about that?

Oh, I've thought about it.

Not with any blame, of course.

I wouldn't blame you
for being a failure. I'm not white.

(Victor, Sara laughing)

Racial excuses are the best.

I can always tell my friends

that you were talented but unseen.

That's very generous of you.

SARA: How's the play going?

Oh, it's one of those family dramas.

I play someone's mother.
Someone else plays my husband.

"I'll stand before God
as this family's guiding light,

a beacon of strength and humility."

It's a thoroughly colored play.

Oh, yes, we sing, we dance.

There's even a character
who runs track.

(laughs)

Leila, tell me something.

What do you dream of doing?

Oh.

I-- I'm not a snob, really.

I don't long to do Macbeth.

I--

I would love to do
a real 60-year-old Negro lady

who thinks more about men than God.

(giggling)

That's what you should do, darling.

You should stop writing
all those dissertations and
write a play about your mother.

Oh! Oh, it would be
too eccentric, Mama.

Nobody would believe
it's about a real person.

You've got that bad look
you get when you're tired.

I have two papers to finish.

I'm not through the research
on either one.

Still building your castles?

(chuckles)

When I was little Mama used to say,

"Oh, she's busy building her castles,

reaching up, up, up to some white,
private sky."

♪♪ (continues)

LEILA: Well... to us.

(man singing)
♪ Does her thing ♪

♪ In funny ♪
(Leila chuckles)

(glasses clink)

♪ Ways ♪♪

VICTOR: Hey, wake up.
We're almost there.

(Sara groans)

I was dreaming we were moving
into this castle

at the top of a huge mountain.

It was so high up,
it was smothered in fog.

That's a dream straight out of
last night's dinner.

(Sara laughing)

VICTOR:
Hey, George.

- It's wonderful.
- I'm glad.

SARA: Oh, it's so grand!

WOMAN: It belongs to a writer that's
gone to Australia for the summer.

VICTOR: Why would anybody go to
Australia for the summer?

WOMAN: It's completely furnished.

- (laughing)
- (chattering, faint)

- VICTOR:Sara!
- I'm down here!

Come upstairs! There's
an unbelievable studio up here!

It's like a dream!

(footsteps)

It's pastoral.

What do you mean?

Uh, it's got nothing to do
with concrete and granite.

It's soft. It's specific.

Those things are abstractions.

There are perfect
still lifes out there.

I don't have to change a thing.

It's a nice house.

It'll be the first time
we ever lived in a house.

- You look terrific.
- (chuckles)

All healthy, correct.

(both laughing)

Where's that real estate lady?

I'm gonna tell her
we gonna take this place.

I think I'll paint you
right by that window.

That'll be my first project.

(footsteps)

Carlos!
(chuckles)

Classic artist-in-residence.

Ever the purist.

That's unfair, man.

Well, it is pure.

No narrative references anywhere.

It never occurs to me.

Well, it's beginning to occur to me.

That's interesting.

That really tells a story.

♪♪ (drums)
♪♪ (man singing
in Spanish)

I have a need
to make specific references.

♪♪ (continues, fades out)

You know, you're amazing.
You just paint, like a child.

(chuckles)

I envy that a little.

No matter how abstract,

I still have landscape references.

So you admit that.

It's in the underpainting.
That's why I try and hide.

There's nothing wrong
with telling stories.

Lots of painters
reach a dead end with form.

You know, you really
should see that place.

- It'll even have you doing landscapes.
- (both laugh)

We didn't even drink
for the acquisition.

- I love the painting, man.
- (laughs)

Hey!

- Yeah.
- Give me my wine.

(both laughing)

Get some cups.

- Gracias.
- De nada.

Salud.

- Not too bad.
- Not too good.

(both laughing)

You know, I realize for the first time

that in many ways
I've made Carlos my mentor.

- You do defer to him.
- No, that's not it.

It's just that

his work is very pure.

In many ways I've tried to
emulate that purity,

and it's not me.

What is this? You sell a painting you
love, and you deny it?

No.

It's just that I never realized before

what an influence he's had over me.

Now it's over.

Oh, Lord!

Careful.

Ah.

What's over?

You know, you have
an amazing knack

for holding on to the thread
of a conversation.

What's over?

My efforts

at purity.

Excuse me.

I'm spending the summer here,

and I'd like to be able to borrow some
books on your library loan system.

- Novels?
- No. Research books.

- On what subject?
- Ecstatic experience.

I see.

Just fill out this form.

There-- Ah!

Too representational.

What do you mean?

Too easy.

You mean, to paint
people and things is a cop-out?

I never put it that way.

I just feel that abstract work
is purer, that's all.

In the painterly sense,
it deals more with simpler truths,

like color, form, space.

And people and things are dishonest.

What is this honesty cop-out bit?

You want to nail me to the cross
for a coward and a cheat?

(giggling)
It hurts to laugh when you can't move.

Light. Ah!

It's incredible from here.

Mmm.

You know, when you're thinking--

When you're dealing with people,
you have to think of light differently.

What?

You have a good face.

That's not what you said.

(laughing)

Why do you do that? Hmm?

Say "what"

when you've heard
every word I've said?

What about my face?

It's cold.

Analytical.

Can I stand still and hit you
at the same time?

(chuckles)

How about "noble"?

- That's a word your mother hates.
- Ah.

(laughs)
Ain't that a blip.

Where'd that come from?

I don't know.

One of those things I've always
wanted to say at a faculty meeting.

Turn to someone pompous,
like Warren or Levine,

and say, "Ain't that a blip?"

(laughs)

That is totally unlike you.

Mmm.

- Are you pretty?
- Mmm.

Or is it just the light?

You want a murder
the first week in this house?

(both laughing)

The light!

Up.

(car horn honks)
(woman speaking Spanish)

(car horn honking)

(chattering in Spanish)

♪♪ (percussion: Latin jazz)

♪♪ (continues)

(speaking Spanish)

Me encanta,
me encanta.

♪♪ (continues)

♪♪ (continues)

♪♪ (ends)

(typing)

SARA'S VOICE:
From the perspective
of comparative psychiatry,

Louis Mars' research
on Haitian voodoo is instructive.

He analyzes
from a psychological
and physiological standpoint

a subject
who is possessed.

In this experience, the subject is
mounted by the god in question,

(typing continues)

I.e., his behavior
changes radically

as he begins to assume
the personality of the god in question.

Similar experiences are described

by those who have studied
Greek and Roman Dionysian rites

and African rites of passage.

The striking note for our purposes

is that during the experience
the possessed one
is unconscious.

Afterwards, he scarcely remembers
what happened to him.

Yet a sensation of physical well-being,
of mental alertness,

sometimes clairvoyance

generally accompanies
the return to consciousness.

The ecstatic moment is, so to speak,

after the fact.

When you read someone--

For instance, looking at me,

what happens inside you?

I don't understand.

Can you see my future?

I see that you are very intelligent.

And secretive.

Anyone can say that.
My face tells you that.

I don't understand.

I want to understand
what it feels like

to see something
that has not yet happened.

I see you

with a tall, dark man

with a top hat.

And they're taking your picture.

This is ridiculous.

What am I looking for?

I'm not a gypsy or a priestess.

I want magic.

Real magic.

All of a sudden, things

start to happen.

(laughing)

Oh.

How you doin'?

Hot enough for you?

(woman speaking Spanish)

(woman #2 speaking Spanish)

(Spanish continues)

(woman #1 )
Oh!

- (Spanish continues)
- Hey! I've been looking for you.

- I want to paint you.
- You want to paint me?

(Spanish)

- Next it'll be her father.
- (laughing)

- ¿Cómo se llama?
- Celia.

Me llamo Celia.

Why do you want to paint me?

I'm from New York, and, uh,
I've taken a studio here for the summer.

(Spanish)

Painting around the village.

(Spanish continues)
El burro sabe más que yo.

(all laughing)

VICTOR:
We're in Germany, right?

Berlin. We're just about to
pass the Reichstag.

I look out the window and I see
all these guys in these green
uniforms, right?

Well, they're not Germans.
They're Russians.

And I'm holding the damn painting
out the window to see the light.

The next thing you know,
bam, bam, bam!
They're shootin' at me.

I dropped my best work out the window.
Stop. I'll be right back, okay?

To get my things.

(door opens)

There's a place over there
I wanna work, okay?

(bird screeching)

SARA: Victor?

(footsteps on stairs)

Victor.

(phone ringing)

Hello? Who?

Well, how did you get my--
(chuckles)

You're kidding. I couldn't do that.

Well, that's ridiculous.
That's going too far.

I'm not an actress.

(laughs)
I couldn't do it.

That's all the more reason
to use a professional.

No, it's your thesis.

Using me might be considered,
uh, poor research.

I know it's a dry analogy, George.

Look, I can't do it.
All right?

(chattering)

I said, "Look, it's my life."

VICTOR: Right. You do
what you want, right?

- Right.
- (chattering)

I'll give him a personal exhibition
of my work, right?

- (laughing)
- Ah. Sara.

This is Celia Cruz.

No, it's not Celia Cruz.
She's a famous singer.

Uh, but she's fabulous, actually.

We've been in the woods.
He's been painting me, man.

Pleased to meet you.
What's your name?

Sara. I'm pleased, too, to meet you.

Would you like some tea?

I don't drink tea.

Café mocha, Coca-Cola,

7-Up, no alcohol.

I don't drink alcohol.

What about iced coffee?

So, she wanted to know-- She said,
"How the devil did you find this place?"

I said, "I don't remember, but it had
something to do with Wedgewood."

She said, "What's Wedgwood?"
She doesn't know what Wedgwood is.

No way I can explain it to her, right?

It's neither wood, nor is it wedged.

I said I didn't have a piece of Wedgwood.

I had a drink with a man
by the name of Wedgewood.

And we had gone north.

I don't remember where it was,
but after we crossed the bridge,

it was 12 bars-- saloons,
that is-- north.

So I said-- As I got to thinking
about it, I said,

"Well, you know, this is like old times."

You know what it's like when you
get to thinking about old times.

- Victor used to do that all the time.
- Ask her about old times.

Go out and not come back
for a couple of days.

Anyway, moving straight ahead.

(laughing)
Here we are.

Oh, you speak English well.

She's not Negro.
She's Puerto Rican.

Negro. Puerto Rican.
What does that got to do with it?

I'm just telling you what she is.

You got something
against Puerto Ricans?

I don't know any Puerto Ricans.

Well, they're an island people of Negro,
Indian and Spanish ancestry.

Is this Puerto Rican history week?

Actually, I find them
more mellow than we Negroes.

Is it "we Negroes" or "us Negroes"?

"We." "More mellow than we."

Traditionally, the relationship between
Negroes and Puerto Ricans

has been fraught with uneasiness.

Is that right?

The third world thinking
has readjusted some of that,

I suspect.

I see.

♪♪ (salsa)

♪♪ (continues)

Getting tired?

(louder)
Getting tired?

Hey.

I will never move again.

(shouts)
You hear me?

Get up!

What are you doing? Get up!

No! I'm painting your picture.

Come on. First, you got the music so
damn loud, I can't hear myself think.

Now you bend over at the waist.
Get up!

- No!
- Get up!

CELIA: No! No!

♪♪ (continues)

♪♪ (fades)

MAN: Tilt down from those gargoyles.

Take your time.
I want a nice, slow tilt.

Straight down.

MAN #2:Uh-huh.
And pan across those trees

along that nice diagonal line.

Yeah. Oh, that's deep, man.
That's truly deep.

Now, dolly back into wide shot.

Did you catch that subtle
mise-en-scene, mi amigo?

I'm with you, man. I'm with you.

Okay. Good, good, good.
Now give me a few minutes.

Let me set up this next shot.

Uh-huh.

Uh, d-d-d-d-d-d--

Professor Rogers!

I don't believe it!

Oh, man!

Did you get the script?

It's a takeoff on the theme
of the tragic mulatto.

Oh, man! You actually came.

(laughs)

This is going to be magical.

I'll get you a chair.
How 'bout some coffee?

I just have to finish with my
cameraman. All right.

Okay. Now--

(continues, faint)

For God's sake. And you haven't
even got a book in your hand.

Professor--

You've met.

This is my uncle.

Duke Richards, Professor Rogers.

He's a pro.
Shades of Willie Bryant.

I conned him into this.

Now, you two play a vaudeville
team in a silent comedy.

And you've come to this terrace
to rehearse a routine.

Hey, Vicky!

Vicky's made all the costumes for us.

Hey, Vicky! Vicky!

The professor's here!

I told you I was out of work.

What the hell's your excuse?

- Hmm?
- (laughing)

You live in an old rooming house,

and there isn't much space or light.

So on good days you come to
the terrace to rehearse.

It's there that you, Duke,
meet another woman

who's trying to compete with you,
Professor Rogers, as Duke's partner.

She's always there
trying to get his attention.

Then one day, you have a fight,

and Duke goes off
to the terrace by himself.

Then you, Professor Rogers, start to
feel badly and rush out to meet him.

But when you get there, he's
rehearsing with this other woman.

And in a fit of rage, she kills you.

That's the plot.

It's kind of an archetypal interpretation
of the "Frankie and Johnny" myth.

And there's Nellie Bly.

(no audible dialogue)

(phone ringing)

Uh-huh. Hello?

Where are you?

(shouts)
You're what?

It's about five days shooting.

What is this? You said you were
going to go to the library.

What is this acting bit?

I just-- I just thought it might be fun.

You're mad.

I'm staying at Mama's.

No, it's too long to drive. We start
shooting early in the morning.

This is bullshit.

There've always been women.

And the very idea.
How does that make you feel?

What do you mean,
"the very idea"?

(chuckles)
Well, the idea that he lifts himself up

and puts himself down
into someone else.

(laughing)

Mama, you grow more and more
outrageous every day.

Well, some women get
stuck on that picture,

and it drives them crazy.

It's graphic enough!

I remember once
when I was about 12,

I overheard a conversation
between you and Welles.

And you kept saying, "Take it out.
Oh, take it out, please."

(laughing)

And I said, "What in the world
could she want him to take out?"

Was it his stamp collection?

The garbage? I don't--

Oh.

The actual sex doesn't bother me.

Victor has sex all the time

with a color, a room, the way the
light falls across a building.

All that private ecstasy.

You envy that.

Why can't I just go, lose control?

I'm like that. Oh, yes.

When I'm working a character,
I-- I'm gone.

I lift a finger, turn my head,
smile, drop a line.

I'm always in complete control,
but I'm just gone.

The gods have me, or Satan.
Somebody has got me.

Welles envied that.

One night he came backstage,
and I was

in that kind of a trance, you know.

My dear, he walked off.
Never came backstage again.

(chuckles)

I remember you like that.

You would come in
to kiss me good night,

and I used to say,
"Oh, her eyes are so bright.

She must have gone to heaven and just
came back to say good night to me."

Oh!

The only thing I've known
like that is sometimes
when I'm writing a paper,

my mind suddenly takes
this tremendous leap

into a new interpretation of the material,

and I know I'm right.

I know I can prove it.

My head just starts dancing like crazy.

(chuckles)

But that's so cold, Mama, and so dry.

How did someone like you produce a
child who thinks so very, very much?

GEORGE: Okay, Frankie.

♪♪ (saxophone)

And stomp 'em, two, three, four.

And--

And dip.

And reverse.

Yeah!

And walk around.

And jaywalk, bump.

Jaywalk, bump.

Jaywalk, bump.

And stay.

And boogie, boogie, boogie, boogie.

Okay, Johnny. Now, walk.

♪♪ (saxophone continues)

Just walk.

Now, pan across that building.

Make it a nice, clean sweep.

Are you with me, my man?
Oh, I'm with you, man. I'm with you.

GEORGE: Nice.

Okay, Nellie.

Now, shim-sham, double.

Double, double.

♪♪ (saxophone continues)

VICTOR: How come you people
don't eat dessert?

What?

All you ever eat is flan.

You're like the Chinese.

You know, the only people that really
understand the word "dessert"

are the Italians.

Tortoni, spumoni, Napoleon.

They are funny-sounding names, man.

Why do you always say "man"?

It's like a beat.

The words go, "Da, da, da."

Then they need a beat at the end.

"Man."

That's very American.

Give me some coffee.

How long have you been here?

Two years.

First in New York City.

(liquid pouring)
Which smells bad, ugly.

Then up here.

I'm trying out to become an airline hostess

so I can fly

back and forth to Puerto Rico.

Free.

Do you miss it?

Huh?

I nod my head yes.
You can't hear that?

Hard as I was nodding?

♪♪ (jazz blues)

So how's the final treatise
on ecstasy coming?

Oh, I finished the first draft.

Vicky! Where the hell is Vicky?

How is George your nephew?

His mother is my sister.

Oh, I see.

Uh, I'd like to try and shoot the
next scene, Professor.

= Now, uh--
- Can't he call you
something besides "Professor"?

Oh, he could call me "Sara."

Sara.

And Sarah begat Rebekah,
who begat Ruth.

You would have some
goddamned biblical name.

Okay, ladies and sirs.

Now, uh, in this next scene,
you come up with this funny routine.

I hate to rush you, but we got about
an hour before we lose the light.

So I'll skip the explanation.
Let's just shoot the sucker! Vicky!

They've gotta change
into those new costumes.

No, no! It's the seduction scene!

♪♪ (saxophone)

(snaps fingers)

GEORGE: Cut!

- Beautiful.
- Oww! Whoo-whoo!

- That's beautiful.
- Yeah! Hoo-hoo-hoo!

Yeah-ah-ah-ah-ah!

Ah!

Mwah!

[ Kisses ]

What do you mean, you danced?

Can you imagine that? Professor
Sara Rogers doing your basic shim-sham?

- (laughing)
- Well.

I don't understand a thing.
I do what I'm told.

- (rings)
- If that's Victor, I'm not here.

- Hello.
- (whispers) Yes, I am.

Fine. I'm just fine.

Same old terrible lines, yeah.

No, no, no. She's right here.

Sara.

Hi.

Fine.

I don't know.

I was just telling Mama,
I do what I'm told.

I play a tragic mulatto.

You, uh,

intend to come home sometime, right?

I don't know.

They do give you a day off?

Maybe I'll come up on Saturday.

Okay.

I'll see you then.

(rings)

- Are we supposed to talk?
- I don't know.

What's the purpose of the scene?

Something to do with the relationship

between the characters,
the space, the light.

This what they call one of those
avant-garde movies?

It might be.

How the hell did you ever get
hooked into doing this?

- I wanted to.
- Why?

- It's not abstract.
- What does that mean?

Everything I do is abstract.

Oh. Papers on ecstasy.
That sort of thing.

Yes.

- You have a husband?
- Yes.

- Is he abstract?
- (laughs)

He used to be an abstract painter.

Now he only wants to paint people.

He's approaching middle age.

He's already there.

- No children?
- No.

Too concrete.

Maybe.

I could never imagine.

GEORGE: Keep moving!
This sucker's brilliant!

- Ugh.
- He's only a nephew.

According to the faculty,
he's very talented.

Yeah, well, he makes me feel very old.

In fact, doing this movie
makes me feel very old.

You know, when I was his age,
there was no such creature
called "a Negro movie director."

- Would you have been
better off as a minister?
- Oh, I don't know.

Built-in audience,
a chance to theologize at will.

I can't see it. Are there women?

Now lift her up on that parapet, Duke!

Make it a nice, clean gesture.

I have a misanthropic personality.

I like to read, think,

account to no one for
my time or whereabouts.

I'm sorry I didn't prepare you for this,

but could you kiss?

Really kiss?

Do you know,
I really feel like I'm 25 years old.

Th-The simple things about painting
are finally clear to me.

It's you, already.

- You see it?
- I see it.

It's lovely.

Theatrical, too,
but in a genuinely playful way.

You know, I've always wanted
to be your kind of child.

Pure, abstract.

But I am not. I'm vulgar, deceptive,
and I'm full of dirty tricks.

Do you see the way that bridge is
obscured by those willow trees?

I have no interest
in duplicating nature.

Everything I want to paint
is up here.

Come here.

You see that?

Is that up here?

(laughing)

Hey! Celia!

Come here!

(laughing)

(speaking Spanish)

(mock Spanish)

You two never stop talking.

You haven't stopped talking
since you got here.

...in Puerto Rico...
"In Puerto Rico."

You're not in Puerto Rico.

(Spanish)

All right. Enough. Enough.

Quiet! Quiet!

It's not important! It's not important.

- (Spanish continues)
- Listen. No, wait a minute.

- Uh-huh. Gracias.
- Excuse me.

(Spanish resumes)

This is very important.
I have something I want to tell you.

I have something-- This is--

Uh-- Uh! Uh!

Shh.

His father is Spanish,

but his mother is a full-blooded
American black woman.

What?

His father left home
when he was six years old.

Four, man.

This is the beginning
of one of his jealous tirades.

(laughs) Victor was raised
by a possessive mother

- who felt he should never
be left out of anything.
- Oh. Oh.

- SARA: Victor.
- Huh?

Carlos! Oh!

- (laughs)
- How good it is to see you.

- Good to see you, Sara.
- Oh, thank you.

Oh, this is Duke Richards, everybody.

We're doing a movie together.

Um, Duke, this is Carlos,
an old family friend.

- Carlos.
- Glad to meet you.

And this is Celia, a new family friend.

Celia.

And this is Victor.

Hello.

Were you in that movie,
Ten Street Exteriors?

- Yes, that's right.
- I remember you well, man.

- You do?
- You were wonderful in that.

- Oh!
- Thank you. How kind of you.

This is gonna be a-a real party.

♪♪ (salsa)

Well, well, well, well.

The silent purist has a touch of
lechery in his bones.

- Come here, darling.
- Hey, man. Come on.

- No, I want to dance.
- (arguing)

You don't wanna dance with me?

Sara, darling.
I want to show you something.

♪♪ (vocalizing)

I always forget you can't dance.

Hey, man!

- What kind of behavior is this, man?
- You know what?

I really resent your Latin ancestry,

and I reserve the right to express it.

- That's right.
- Leave me out of it, man.

You come to a party, people dance.

They fool around.

None of this bullshit
about who can dance with who,

what, when and where.

That's no dancing.
That's no party, man.

Hey. Now, that's really well put, baby.

What is this, a performance?
A cinematic moment?

- Hey, hey, hey, man.
- Huh?

Hey, man. Hey, man. Hey, man.

Get a hold of that. Don't do it.

This is really beginning
to get pretty strange.

(laughing)

That's very good. That's like dancing.

Man, man, man.

You say that enough times,
you can't stop.

You just go,
"I don't know, man.

And this is how it goes, man.

And I believe
it's always happening, man!"

You know, that's really very true

and, uh, very well put.

There's a rhythm of speech

and how that sometimes
defines the truth.

What the fuck is he talking about?

Leave it to you to run into
some goddamn actor.

What the hell do you two talk about
on the screen?

You sit there and read
from Plato's Republic?

Huh? You wanna dance with me?

You wanna dance with me?
I'll dance by my goddamn self.

Watch this. Ready for it? This is it.

Come on. Let's get on down.
Take up with the music. Get it on.

You know what I think
we should do?

I think we should all go out and sleep
under the stars tonight.

I dare everybody to follow me!

Oh.

Come in the-- Damn, it's cold!

Shit! Come in!

- Come on!
- It takes me back to my childhood.

(speaking Spanish)

I go in, but just like I am.

Oh!

(gasps)

(coughs)

Is it cold?

(laughing)

I hate water.

I feel like I'm drowning in the bathtub.

I hear you, honey.

¡Ay!

I'm cold.

SARA: I'll go get you some clothes.

(splashing)

(coughing)

VICTOR: Where's the rest of 'em?

(Carlos speaking Spanish)

It's true.

It's damn irresistible.

(Duke shouts)

It's cold.

(men conversing, laughing)

Ah.
(growling)

Give me some bag.

What you doing?
You think this is a funny moment?

This is no funny moment!

(growling)

(laughing) Give me some bag.
Give me some bag!

Stop! Leave me out of it, man!
What you doing?

(shouting in Spanish)

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah! Oh!

You think you can go around
taking that thing out in front of me?

It's uncalled for for you to fling your
little private ecstasies in my face!

This is not one of your classes.
Don't lecture to me.

Don't fuck around then!

Don't you take your dick out
like it was artistic,

like it's some goddamn paintbrush!

Maybe that's what's uneven,

that I got nothin' to take out!

I'm on shaky ground.

Well, that's not
the kind of feeling you like.

Order.

That's what Victor loves about me

is there's no chaos anywhere.

That's the quality in you

that even I admit to counting on.

Mama?

♪♪ (saxophone)

Okay, now, Johnny, dip her.

Same sweeping gesture
you used with Frankie.

Ah.

Yes.

GEORGE: Okay, Frankie.

Raise the gun.

Take your time.

And when it feels right,

blow him away.

(gunshot)

(wind gusting)

MAN: ♪ Lately I have had
some trouble sleeping ♪

♪ Sandman hasn't paid a call ♪

♪ In days ♪

♪ I guess it's in keeping ♪

♪ That love does her thing ♪

♪ In funny ways ♪

♪ Tried to dine ♪

♪ But nothing's appetizing ♪

♪ Lost the taste for truffles
and flambé ♪

♪ I'm just realizing ♪

♪ That love does her thing ♪

♪ In funny ways ♪

♪ I used to count myself ♪

♪ A roguish sort of gent ♪

♪ The sort that heaven sent ♪

♪ To womankind ♪

♪ Oh, can I see ♪

♪ That you were lying there in wait ♪

♪ I guess it was my fate
♪

♪ To be so blind ♪

♪ So long to the life ♪

♪ Lush and beguiling ♪

♪ Gone is all the hip ♪

♪ From my hooray ♪

♪ That's why I'm not smiling ♪

♪ Though love does her thing ♪

♪ In funny ways ♪

♪ So long to the life ♪

♪ Lush and beguiling ♪

♪ Gone is all the hip ♪

♪ From my hooray ♪

♪ That's why I'm not smiling ♪

♪ Though love does her thing ♪

♪ In funny ♪

♪ Ways ♪♪