All language subtitles for The.Spousals.Of.God.1999.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.BZ]

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This copy is the result
of a 4K digitisation

of the original 35mm negative
and the final sound mix

on magnetic media,
preserved by the Film Institute.

Colour correction was carried out

by Irma Lucia Efeitos Especiais

and digital restoration by
Cineric Portugal in 2023,

using a period copy as a reference.

Digital sound restoration was carried out

by Billyboom Studio in 2023.

This digitization was supervised

by director of photography
Mário Barroso.

For Margarida Gil.

Paulo Branco presents

a film by Jodo César Monteiro

THE SPOUSALS OF GOD

Actors:

Rita Durdo

Jodo César Monteiro

Joana Azevedo

José Airosa

Manuela de Freitas

Luis Miguel Cintra

Ana Velazquez

José Mora Ramos

Fernando Mora Ramos

Fernando Heitor

Jodo Listz

Jean Douchet

Production manager:
Joaquim Carvalho

Sound and editing:
Joaquim Pinto

Cinematography:
Mario Barroso

Chief electrician:
Vitor Miranda

Key grip:
Paulo Miranda

Costumes:
Silvia Grabowsky

Set:
Alfredo Furiga

Editing:
Jean-Frangois Auger

I am the Envoy of God.

Am I to be called?

Those are not my instructions.
You're too old.

I will be dust, but dust in love.

I was ordered to give you this briefcase

containing a large sum of money.

How much?

We don't deal in details.
You're as rich as Croesus.

You can buy whatever you want.

- And have whims?
- The most extravagant ones.

To overthrow governments?

From now on,
you're the most powerful man on earth.

You don't have to answer to anyone.

Don't I even have to light
a candle to my benefactor?

Not at all...

There is no need to show gratitude.

In that case
I think I'll take the briefcase.

- Is the cash in dollars?
- You can exchange it for marks.

They won't fluctuate so much.

I think so too.

But what the hell...!

Let me die, good sir.

You're joking,
after the trouble you've given me.

I've come to leave this child in your care,
sisters.

Praise our Lord.

Give her chicken broth and plenty of rest.

Sisters, let us praise our Lord,
Saviour of this unfortunate child.

In the implacable and
selfish world we live in,

those who still care about the
suffering of their equals are rare,

risking their own lives.

No pneumonia gets me.

What's your name, my good man?

João de Deus.

A holy name.
Are you a believer?

It's not a question of belief,
it's a question of trust.

God is obscure.

Thanks to your good deed,

the angels and the seraphim
rejoice in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Mother, don't turn a little aquatic impulse

into a celestial orgy.

Here, take a hundred escudos.

But don't spend it all on wine.

God bless you, Mother Superior,
for these holy alms.

May God be with you.

Rather alone...

than in bad company.

Agostinho, here's a hundred
dollars but don't spend it all on nuns.

Thank you, my good man,

I'm pleased to see there are
still honest people in this world.

The sisters of Charity, boom!
Have a hole in their arse, boom!

That the Holy Priest gave them, boom!
With the key to the trunk, boom!

Olive tree on the mountain,
the wind carries your flower...

Oh, my beauty, no one will take me

Oh, my beauty,
to be near my sweetheart, boom!

- Is Mother Bernarda in?
- Who should I announce?

The Baron of God.
Tell her I've moved up a class.

- What about Joana?
- A real jewel.

Girls like her are few and
far between nowadays.

She serves children in the parish canteen

and she also gives us
a hand at the convent.

I know you don't believe in miracles,

but I won't forget the day when,
trembling with cold,

Joana came to us for the first time.

She looked like a ghost
from a concentration camp.

What force kept her alive?

Transfiguration is wonderful,
no doubt about it.

The wonders of God do
not cease to surprise us.

Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's,
to God that which is God's.

Why don't you go and visit her?

I'd rather not.

You'll be sorry.

Sorry?

This isn't exactly a penitentiary comedy.

I'd rather leave this donation
so that she won't lack anything

and for works of
improvement on the convent.

A heavy rainfall would bring the roof down.

So many banknotes!

Are they not the work of Lucifer?

It is immaculate money.
God gets better by the hour.

Be merciful.

I am a woman of little faith.

It's a shame that we
cannot celebrate this gift

with one of Joana's well-cooked
Portuguese stews.

Home cooking...

Sister, sister,

a lot you'll be forgiven,
if you free me from these temptations!

This delicacy is on the house.

Enjoy.

Are you laughing at me?

I'm laughing because I'm happy.

Blessed are the meek...

for they shall inherit the earth.

If that's the way it is, let's hope
the stew will make one cry for more.

Some smoked sausage, Mother?

Black pudding.

Joana?

- Would you like ice cream?
- No way!

Who knows if we are not
on the brink of a new era?

For a long time we put up
with the era of abandonment.

Perhaps we are entering
the era of hospitality.

With the recrudescence
of Fascism snapping at us?

It's gone out.

Damn candle, Mother.

I am going to blaspheme,

but as Stalin used to say,
the best fascist is a dead fascist.

I'm going to state an obscenity,
Mother,

but as an old friend of mine used to say:

"Three hundred old women in their underwear

"and one in front playing the flute.

"Bundle, tumble, and balls in a rumble!"

Joana.

Let us thank Our Lord and Master

for everything he has bestowed on us,
accept our love...

What about your mother?

My mother died three months ago.

We're from Piodao.
Do you know it?

I've been past it...

We had no one else.

My father lives in France,

but he never wanted anything to do with us.

No place is like ours...

When I got to Austerlitz Station,
I couldn't speak a work of French.

I wanted to go straight
to the "service d'accueil"

at Saint-Joseph des Nations,
but nobody cared.

They shrugged their
shoulders and kept grumbling...

Those Parisians do moan a lot.
They're like crazy cockroaches.

Finally,
I went to the "onzième arrondissement".

I ate some soup and a piece of bread...

and after three days,
I found my father's whereabouts.

What does your father do?

He worked at Renault.

Now all he does is drink.

He's in the "chômage".

He lives with another woman by
whom he has three other children.

But she's miserable, too.
All she does is cry...

We slept rough...

I had to pretend I was blind.

Blind?

When I pretended I was blind,
I really did stop seeing!

I had terrible pains which
brought tears to my eyes.

From staring.

Show me.

- And aren't you ashamed?
- Yes...

But what can I do?

My father made me do it.

- That, and worse.
- Worse? How?

Must I say it?

I'm old enough to hear certain things...

He made me go with men.

If I refused, he would beat me up.

The moral of the blind
is different to ours.

You're a saint,

but I've given you enough trouble already.

Poor thing, you could have
frozen to death because of me.

I wouldn't say frozen,
but while digesting a tin of sardines,

I might have had a seizure and
the two of us would have gone.

And worst of all, nobody would miss me.

You're no longer alone in the world.
I'm going away for a few days.

It's easier for a camel to pass
through the eye of a needle

than for a rich man to enter
the Kingdom of Heaven.

I am a rich man, that is,

deprived of the ethereal seat.

I'm down here rebuilding my little life.
I've got some things to do.

You are my light.

I am a weak candle.

God doesn't sleep.

But I do.

You were, beautiful Inés, laid to rest
Reaping sweet fruit from your years

In that glad blind error of the soul
Which fortune does not allow to last

In the longing fields of the Mondego
Never dry from the tears in your eyes

Telling the hills and the fields
Of the name written on your breast

Mariano,

book me a flight to Beijing

in the name of Inés Pim.

Alice, what shall I write on the cake?

I don't know...

Good morning, Baron.
Did you sleep well?

Like an angel.
And how are your kidneys, Bardamu?

A little better, Baron.

Is it because of the water?

When he was in Venice,

the Seigneur de Montaigne also
suffered from similar afflictions.

The years eat us up inside...

Your cake looks inviting.

Yes, but I'm having some trouble
finding something to write on it.

Write what?

Oh, something sweet, a loving word...

It's for Princess Elena Gombrowicz.
She's really pretty.

She's a real poem.

Who is this Princess?

Prince Omar Raschid's sweetheart.

I don't know him.

A charming man,
living proof that when one is a gentleman,

oil doesn't go to one's head.

I agree entirely, Bardamu.

A dedicated womanizer and gambler.
The oil in endless.

And Scheherazade?
Has she had it?

They say that she is his great love.

Look, love is infinite
within the reach of lap dogs.

You are a sceptic, Baron,
Do you have children?

Where?

"Vita vixit."

Behold the offering of a
free man written on the cake.

Thank you, Baron, Enjoy your stroll.

I've heard a lot about you, my dear Baron.

Your reputation has reached me,

dear Prince Omar Raschid.

A Thousand and One Nights, do you know it?

Did my wish to meet you intrigue you?

Curiosity is reciprocal and
natural in children and wise men.

I imagine you know of my inclinations...

There are rumours...
It's the price of glory.

Do you enjoy gambling?

I rarely gamble,
but I admit it fascinates me.

It terrifies me.

It's like a fire which devours me

and from which I wish to be freed,
to be purified.

It's funny...

What attracts me is entering into the vice

and diving headlong into it, to the end.

Pay to see, as they say in poker.

What does one need
to pay to see everything?

Only God can see everything.

It's the fundamental principle of tragedy.

He who plays against God is
condemned to lose without redemption.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained...

Meanwhile, to restrain the
ambition that kills the villain,

I am pleased to accept a game of poker,

should you accept the hospitality
of a friendly house as is yours.

I know your country.

Good people, easy-going.

I have already cleaned out Estoril...

Omar, don't frighten me...

Unfortunately,
my country is not like yours;

convulsions are permanent.

Treat them with a good elixir.
It's a sure remedy.

It's not so simple,
hut let's not talk about it.

What are the stakes?

No limit?

Abandon all hope, ye who enter Paradise.

Princess Elena Gombrowicz.

My dear princess.
Did you have a good journey?

We have crossed the uncrossable river.

How pleasant it is not to feel
guided by the tugboats anymore.

One can't ask for anything better,

except for some howling Redskins
not taking us for their targets.

The river let me get off where I wanted to.

It dates from the 16th century,
like most of the palace,

although there are still some
traces of earlier constructions.

Look, the bust of one of its first owners,

the bastard son of Dom
Afonso de Albuquerque,

one of the viceroys of India.

Vasconcelos,
go collect these good people's luggage.

This is Celestina,
a young student of archaeology,

in charge of the
excavations being carried out

in the oldest part of the palace.

A legend says that a Hindu treasure

is buried somewhere, and, in fact,

we have already found some maravedis.

Celestina not only plays harpsichord,

speaks French and is
at your entire disposal,

but will also take you to your rooms.

Besides this, if you so wish,

she will be a better guide
than myself around the palace.

Enjoy your rest.
We'll meet again at dinner time.

Tell Gertrudes not to give
the scraps to Vasconcelos' dog.

Leftovers for lunch tomorrow.
As usual.

Delicious.

Please excuse these remarks
on household economy,

Make yourself at home, my dear Baron.

It's got sediment, Vasconcelos.

- Shall I bring another bottle?
- Don't bother.

I can tell that in your hands
decanting will always be "sui generis".

Please excuse these
instructions to the servants.

How I understand you, my dear Baron.

This dessert is delicious.

Convent fare.

Should you be interested,
our cook will give you the recipe.

Cuisine is not my forte.

Ah, Princess, it is,
on the contrary, my weak point.

However, as you haven't been served,

we would be led to believe
you are not a sweet tooth.

Before poker I am a true anchorite.

I've finished.

Let's have coffee.

Is it true that garlic leads to chastity?

Only a vampire could give
you an exact answer, Princess.

And do vampires still exist?

Never on a night like this, my dear.

Never serve one who has served.
You may go.

A digestive?

Only in bed, before going to sleep.

- And you?
- Certainly.

Tobacco is my only stimulant.

What time will you finish?

Shall we set a time limit?

At daybreak, when the cock crows.
Do you agree?

I would love to watch the last hand.

In that case,
your beauty will announce the dawn.

We'll do without the cock crow.

What if I don't wake up?

We shall wait for you, shall we not?

It'll be better if you retired
so you'll be as fresh as a rose.

I leave you my rose.

The one who takes the first king deals.

A thousand.

I'm in.

I'll stop at five thousand.

I'm in.

Another twenty thousand.

Pass.

The first corn is for the sparrows.

A thousand.

I'm in.

Another three thousand.

Another ten thousand.

Another ten thousand.

That ten thousand plus
two hundred thousand.

I'm in.

Naughty...

- Did you sleep well, my dear?
- I slept wonderfully.

The last hand.

- Shall we up the stakes, Omar?
- What do you propose?

My fortune is a thousand times
greater than what's at stake.

More or less.

But it is an astounding amount!
My liquid assets wouldn't be enough.

If I lose what's on the table,

it will provoke financial
rumblings as it is...

And, who knows?
A drop in oil prices...

I don't understand any of that.

Economy goes crazy over a paltry amount.

Omar is a very sensitive person.

He cries because of a scratch.

Be good and shut up.

The Baron's proposal is tempting,
but it requires reflection.

This will do some damage...

Do you think I can't handle pain?

It smells of human flesh.

It's a bitter smell.

I don't know if I like it.

It was an irresponsible act.

I offer you my apologies.

What would you say to my oil wells?

Nothing.
I don't want the Americans after me.

And my palaces?

One of them,
a jewel of Islamic architecture,

has a harem with one hundred concubines...

Beautiful, every single one.
Hand-picked.

And who will feed all those little mouths?

There is no place like home,
no matter what they say.

Deal, Omar,
and let's leave things as they are.

One hundred thousand.

Five hundred thousand.

I'm in.

Two million.

That's six million.

Twelve million.

Twenty million.

My hand.

You have a jack and a ten...

It's the best hand.

I'm not here to cheat anyone.
I'm a classic.

If a full house comes out with your trio...

of why not a run?

You win.

Otherwise, you lose.

Obviously I'll show my hand.

Three queens.

Queen flush.
Turn over the other two cards.

If it doubles...

The fortune of some is the ruin of others.

King flush.
God gets better by the hour.

It's one of those days...

Glory to the victor,
honour to the vanquished...

Lucky at cards...

unlucky in love.

If I played, it wouldn't be for money.

Some play for beans.

Those who play for money,

assume money is the
most important thing in life.

Not necessarily.

One can only play with what one has.

Would you bet me?

If you were mine, probably not.

I am a free woman.

And you, Omar?

There is no greater proof of love
than that dictated by renouncing.

For a woman,

to be chosen by the casting
of dice is the most precious gift.

Rare are those who have savoured it.

I played and was played,
I enjoyed and was enjoyed...

Oh yes, yes.
Well played and well enjoyed.

A legend, unknown to Homer,

mentions the kidnapping of the fair Helen,

the one who, later on,
caused the Trojan war,

by Theseus and his friend Pirithous

when, still a virgin,

she was offering a sacrifice to
Artemis in the temple of Lacedaemon.

Before leaving for the Underworld
in order to capture Persephone,

Theseus and Pirithous drew lots for her.

And which of the two
heroes won the fair Helen?

Theseus, of course.

Having obtained the first fruit
of the nubile beauty's hymen

must have helped him in his
future combat with the Minotaur.

I want you to draw lots for me, too.

All that I possess is not worth
a single hair of your head.

All that I possess is already yours.

No pity for the vanquished.

The poor vanquished.

What time?

At five p.m.

At exactly five p.m.

What a terrible hour it will be.

- Agreed?
- Agreed.

Catrina's lovebirds will fly hand in hand

Back to their farming

Princess, what are you doing there?

Taking my first steps in
archaeological research.

Hesitant ones?

The Princess is highly talented...

I don't doubt it.

One only needs to have eyes.

What is that at your feet?
It looks like a bracelet.

This? It's a chicken bone.

We'll never get anywhere at this rate.

I've come to help.

Omar is resting.

Shouldn't you do the same
before the decisive game?

I can't concentrate.

I'm all ears...

In half an hour,
next to the Rape of Europe.

Ultra-secret.

I can't wait.
I have already flown there...

You may damage something
precious of you're not careful.

I take full responsibility.

I couldn't care less about
breaking one jug or another.

If the treasure is precious,
shovels and picks may rain down!

Call the fire brigade!

Elena!

Before the dice decide your fate,

I'd like to express to you, my Princess,

my profound gratitude for
having granted me this encounter.

It is with great pleasure
that I listen to you...

For a short while I was afraid,

given your confidential nature,

that you might have a natural reticence.

Not at all, my dear Baron.
I am a simple woman who loves secrets.

And could you forgive a poor
mortal for the human weakness,

the fruit of despair,
of wanting to cheat destiny?

And what would our lives be,
tormented by remorse?

I forgive you because it pains
me to see you in this state

and it is up to women to forgive.

But Omar, can he forgive us?

We're not on equal footing.

Omar has a great advantage over me.

Omar is a prodigious lover.
He gets up to twenty.

A year?

A day.

He's good...

Don't be upset because of this;

there are many ways to court a woman.

Do you think it was a whim of
fate that I agreed to be played for?

Keep calm and have faith.

Faith I have.

My problem is that fate is against me.

I will pray for you, my dear.

Elena, my love,
we know each other so little...

Biblically?

In every way and manner.

My little fool!

One has to begin somewhere!

The burning bush!

What is it my dear?
An attack of epilepsy?

No.

A hard-on.

Do you know the Biblical theme?

Chaste Susan and the old men.

If I'm not mistaken,

it is a Greek supplement
to the Book of Daniel.

Indeed.

The motif was taken from
an engraving by Aneias Vicus.

It is a tile panel from the
transition of the Mudéjar tradition

and the modernity of
the Italian Quattrocento.

This one depicted

the Slaughter of the Centaurs
at the wedding of Hippodamia.

The savagery that then ensued must
have seemed too licentious to him.

Let us savour this peace.

"My poor heart, afflicted and insane,

"could never be freed from
the love of my loved one.

"On the day that they
served the wine of love,

"My cup was filled with
the blood of my heart!"

Without Elena, I can't go on living.

If I lose her...

I think of the desert.

The life forms which
inhabit it are countless,

contrary to what one imagines.

They are resistant and
fit to found a new life

because it is the extreme
dryness that forms them.

Great are the deserts.

My dear Omar,

let us make the most of this
moment of clear-sightedness.

Gambling is only a transfer,
it doesn't generate wealth.

But if Elena changes hands,
and in good hands she'll be,

It is because deep down
she never loved you.

My loss is your gain.

On the contrary, what does it
matter to me if I lose my possessions?

To be literally "in naturalibus",
as they say.

You must agree that death
is preferable to such a fate.

I would never allow you
to reach such a state.

It would be a privilege
to keep you as my friend

and to offer you a high
position as a Counsellor.

You'd be respected.

No, thank you.

I don't know how to give
advice and I detest respectability.

You are the host.

Goodbye, my friend.

Has Omar left?

Without a word?

He said...

"Love moves the Sun and other stars."

Isn't that sacrilege?

The holy icons were stolen around
the time of the French invasions,

probably by Napoleon's troops.

Not having religious convictions,
I see no reason

to make this chapel a
place of worship again.

The new god appears in all his splendour.

"Ita missa est."

I would prefer you not to take
me for a priest of the money-god.

I accept, however, that this
altar is a place of an ironic deposit

for those who, without serving themselves,
make use of it.

Elena,

You are my only goddess...

the only one
I wish to take to the altar.

Is that a proposal of marriage?

It's the famous cow-kiss.

I know vices.

It's in perfect state and
the sound quality is ideal

for creating an intimate
atmosphere in this beautiful room.

And when do you think the
Princess can begin strumming?

Whenever you wish Baron,
I, besides a bit of tuning,

still live off odd jobs,
this is a disgrace.

You start your lessons after the honeymoon.

How are things for tonight?

Everything is ready,
but there's a minor setback...

Repairable?

Repairable if it's oiled in time.

Skilled labour has gone up a lot,

and you want a job well done, Baron...

How many of you are there?

Few, but good.

All ex-convicts.
Hard as nails.

You can't get a word out
of them even under torture.

Silence is golden.
How much?

Another five hundred?

Pay in haste, repent at leisure.

I think this is robbery, but so be it.

What day is it today?

The sixth.

Cheap works out expensive.
It'll be easy.

Do it exactly after "da
molto é che mi amate".

Understood, Sparafucile?

Don't worry, Baron.
I know the score by heart.

Verdiamo, verdiamo!

Sparice!

We're being watched.

Your beauty outshines everything.

It can't outshine your nobility, Baron.

His Excellency can't keep his eyes off us.

Down with the tyranny of freedom!

Death to freedom!
Long live God!

I bare my bosom to
the bullets of the tyrants!

But aren't we in a free country?

No, not until it's free of us.

We're on the perch.

Together we could conquer the world.

And who would carry it?

He who gives that which he has,
is obliged to give no more.

"And you, relentless fuckers

"who think you please the beautiful damsels

"because you have dicks which,
when stretched,

"will preach with their
face in their shins,

"know you here, undeceived,

"that it is not such
dicks that please them,

"as that which is only half-sized,

"cannot be pleasing to them."

You were saying...

Nonsense.

Eat!

This is my body.

In the morning, the pussy has melted,

because of the soft and
sweet heat of the night

which marinated and ripened it,
making it better and tastier.

Like safes.
They should be secret.

"Vitam impedere amori".
That is the secret.

Ah, hunger, hunger...

Well, Princess, let's get down to it.

The curdle is still a little weak...

But there are signs of improvement...

"Anyone can make a mistake",

said the hedgehog,

getting off the shoe-brush.

Do you know where the Princess is?

She left this morning, taking the car.

Did she say where she was going?

I don't care!

She must have gone to pick forget-me-nots.

Oh, my precious money!

A cool head is what is needed.

This isn't the death of anyone.

The worst thing is,
she didn't leave a pubic hair.

Fuck the Princess!

I have implanted the Republic!

Come here sergeant,
there are strange objects here.

Is it the work of monarchists?

And this?

Alpha Omega to Pipi.
We've got a Big Catch.

I'm ruined, Leonor.

Don't worry, my little Baron.
There are lots of Princesses.

What will be of our life with
this little thing in our arms?

- Is it a boy or a girl?
- It's a boy.

It's my savings.

Thank you...

My benefactor.

So cute...

So many kisses...

Go to daddy's bosom.

That was a disgrace!

Her running around the estate,

showing her fanny and the weakling
running and drooling after her.

"Give me your cunt, give me your cunt..."

The Baron used to give to the poor.

He who gives to the poor lends to God...

He was a saint.
You are nowhere near him, you Judas.

You'd sell your mother for thirty pieces.

If the man's still got a lock on,
all the better for him.

I wish I had!
Mine won't straighten out anymore.

The sheet was spotless.

Vasconcelos,
there's nothing left for you here.

He's taken it all.

The Baron doesn't know the half of it...

Go get a few bottles from
the cellar for us to drink.

My tongue is dry,

and this story deserves a
few brews and some wanking.

Go on, you snake.
Do you hear?

I'm nobody's slave.

Gertrudes!

Fish cakes and rice with sprouts.

I'll be back at dinner time.

And where am I going to find
sprouts at this time of year?

They're roses!

Black-eyed beans, then...

You don't fish a jellyfish, do you?

Look, Celestina...

I'm already broke.

Get digging, digging...

Hope is the last thing to die.

There!

You declare you know nothing of
the existence of the war material,

found after a search by the
security forces in the Paradise Estate,

as well as the reasons why they
may have been deposited there.

From this fact and the events which
took place in Teatro de Séo Carlos

he sees no connection,

given that it is absurd to try to
transform the grotesque gesture

of a society bored to death
into an act of armed rebellion.

The bourgeoisie will never
dare put the barrels of guns

in their own mouths.

I've prevented a sperm-bath.

Although admitting that
your behaviour provoked

disturbances beyond your knowledge,

you just wanted some fun, to have a laugh,

never having had the
intention of using violent means

to overthrow the government.

I have no alternative on the left...

This looks bad, Mr. João de Deus.
Really bad.

Oh, the poor Lusiad...

I'm going to show you
some interesting photos.

I'm not really a fan of
pornographic photos.

I couldn't give a shit about your tastes,
Mr. João de Deus.

What I want to know is
whether you know this woman.

Her face is covered.

Straight up, I don't know who it is.

All I can see is her arse...

And this one?

That's Princess Gombrowicz
and myself in a box at the Opera.

Princess, my foot,
Mr. João de Deus!

This is the same person in both photos:

Albertine Rabelais!

Wanted for murder and armed robbery.

We didn't lay our hands
on her by a whisker.

To be honest,
I laid my hands on her...

but nothing else.

The vanished Albertina...
I'll give a reward!

You've given whatever you had to give.

Is that all you have to say
about the well-known Albertine?

I only have good things to state.

Let's go back to the beginning
to see if we can unravel this:

for a short while, you worked in
an ice-cream parlour in Lisbon,

the owner of which is wanted by
the police for alleged involvement

in a drugs and prostitution ring.

- She can do that and a lot more.
- Did you know her well?

Like my middle finger.
Merdelin Cartel.

If you know of her whereabouts,
it could work in your favour...

No, thank you.
I'm not that kind of person.

A mistake, Mr. João de Deus,
but we're in no hurry.

You were committed...

to a psychiatric hospital

for showing, in broad daylight,
in a public park

your genitals, to a seven-year-old girl.

A pure lesson in anatomy.

Her father had taught her that
the heart was where the penis is;

in my poor understanding,

it's a shame that this stopped
at sentimental education.

You spat in the eye of a police inspector.

That was in the days of Fascism.
Nowadays I don't waste saliva.

I am not being thorough,
Mr. João de Deus.

I was patiently reminding you

of some details of a life which,
unfortunately,

leave no room for doubt,

regarding sick behaviour

which we find in the field of
"psychopatologia criminalis".

It is enough, indeed, to glance
at the configuration of your skull,

its obvious disproportion
as to the rest of your body,

for us to realise we are in
the presence of a specimen

the features of which correspond
to the aforementioned typology.

I've been told that my appearance
is like that of a Roman effigy.

Which Rome, Mr. João de Deus?

The virtuous and patriarchal Rome,

or the decadent and debauched Rome?

How many Caesars have I been...

You set yourself up in grand style
at the Pousada de Santa Isabel

and disappeared without hide nor hair.

Rome doesn't pay the
murderers of its generals!

Does this mean that you refuse to pay?

I was drawn into a trap
and stabbed in the back.

You can't see a poor man in a clean shirt.

You unduly used a noble title...

Nobility is in the soul, not in birth.

The facts clearly state,
Mr. João de Deus,

that you used several strategies
to achieve fraudulent aims!

That's not true.

I was a millionaire.
It's not my fault I was robbed.

How do you think I bought
the Paradise Estate?

We have all the details
relative to that deal.

The property was acquired in cash,

for an amount above its real value.

I never had a head for business.
Do you think that is a crime?

I don't think anything,
Mr. João de Deus.

I'm only listening to you...

I have an instinctive repugnance
for banking institutions.

So I decided to buy a safe,

one of those old ones,
with a secret system,

and I put most of the dough there.

This morning, when I woke up,

I found it had been broken
into and the money had gone.

It seems the secret was useless.

I was never very good at keeping secrets.

But you'll keep this one: do you
know that I firmly believe in your story?

Didn't I tell you,
Inspector Pantaledo?

Truth is like oil: it always
rises to the surface.

If you'll excuse me,
I'll be off, it's getting late.

If it's not asking too much,
where do you think you're going?

Home, sweet home.

In a period of austerity,
there may be no room for extravagance,

but there's always place
for cod and potatoes.

Stay where you are, Mr. João de Deus.
You've nowhere to go.

Your Paradise has been confiscated.

- On what grounds?
- Provisional and cautionary.

But don't worry,

You only have to clear up a small detail.

Which is?

How is it that a modest
employee in an ice-cream parlour

is suddenly in the possession
of an astronomical fortune?

My God, my God,

why hast Thou forsaken me?

- And what about old Livio?
- He died.

With so many bastards knocking around...

The good son always comes home!

I'm not crazy.

I've been manipulated like a puppet.

God set me up in this mess,

but does anyone believe my story?

I'm confused myself, in my own mind...

That's precisely why you're
here: to dissipate such confusion.

I am here as a prisoner.

Your freedom depends on you.

It depends on the whims on God,
and the bastard couldn't care less.

Shut up, João...

The more I protest,
the worse I make things.

It is said that much talk brings much woe,

but it seems to me that in your situation

you have little to lose,

especially as you're
chatting to an old friend.

Or don't you believe me either?

Explaining the divine origin of the
vile metal is even more complicated

than the origin of the Universe.

You believe that?

I may well be the last of the believers.

If an Envoy of God appeared to
you with a bag full of greenbacks,

wouldn't you believe it, too?

You believe what you want to believe.

Of course!

There is an in-patient here
who is an Envoy of God.

Wearing a Navy officer's uniform?

Only hospital uniforms are allowed,

but I know he doesn't
have nautical inclinations.

With my luck it won't be the same one.

This one thinks he is
Jesus Christ after the Ascension.

You'll meet him tomorrow.
He has mystical delirium.

I don't reckon so.

It's like looking for a
needle in a haystack.

Have you seen the Envoy of God?

Which one?
We're all Envoys of God here.

That's what I thought...

Who'd have imagined!
Don't you recognise me?

I don't know you from Adam,

and I don't give out cigarettes.

Stick your cigarettes up your arse.

We met in Parque da Pena,
you gave me a bag full of cash,

and you told me you were an Envoy of God,
remember?

Me?
Who'd believe such a thing?

Why on earth would I give
you a bag full of dollars?

I'm crazy, but I'm not stupid.

You won't get away with this, you bastard!

Let go of me, or I'll scream for help.

I can't stand raving lunatics.

You have to get me out of this mess!

I don't know what you're talking about.

I have, indeed, been the Envoy of God,

but now I am seated
on the celestial throne,

on the right hand of the Father.

And fuck me, right?

When I rose to the heavens,
I told every mortal...

Fuck each other now,
because you won't be fucking me anymore.

Will the defendant please rise.

You stand up, you bastard.

I am innocent, no matter what I've done!

Silence!

Silence,
or I'll have the court room cleared!

You've got a visitor.

You're living a good life!

I am scrupulously living out
my sentence as best as I can.

When winter comes
and the cold starts to bite,

maybe prison will give you less
of a desire to listen to singing.

We're not here to bother anyone.

My dear sir:

from the dead body of a free man,
a stench may rise,

but never a slave.

I came as soon as I
heard of your misfortune.

My greatest misfortune was
having been born in Portugal.

And how's your life?

Not a bed of roses, either.

But one has to hang on and keep smiling.

There will always be a bed
and hoard waiting for you.

I wouldn't hold my breath,

They say it takes a second,
but the journey seems endless.

The heart beats strongly.

But it doesn't matter,
I'm ready for whatever happens.

I'm more grown-up.

Is it my eyes or have
your tits grown as well?

They're the same.
It must be because of the blouse.

Could you just show me one?

I've been on bread and oranges...

In front of the guard?

Pretend you've got an itch,

undo three buttons and
he won't notice a thing.

They're small...

They're the only ones.

There is so much beauty in them

that if you don't put them away quickly
I'll have a fit.

I've prayed and prayed for the day...

So have I, Joana.

You think a lot when
whichever way you turn,

you always find four endless boring walls.

"Hold on, don't fall",
I say to myself.

And if you do fall, well...
falling can be learned as well.

The flesh is weak,
but the wind hovers freely over the sea.

It won't be long before
you have your freedom.

And what will I do with it?
I'm old and tired.

If you want me,
I will always be at your side.

Of course I want you.
And will you wait for the poor prisoner?

I have been waiting for you.

It's finally time to rest...
Life imprisonment?

The mills of God grind slowly.

Visiting time is over.

Joana,

leave me a pubic hair,

a little thread of Ariane...

And how do I do that?

It's easy, you slip your hand inside

and you'll find cultivated ground.

Sow and reap.

It's a souvenir.

Wanking in a cell isn't wanking:
it's lack of companionship.

Joana,

what a strange path I've
followed in order to reach you.

And here this comedy ends.