All language subtitles for Ariel.2025.720P.Jff.H264.1800k-eng

A Spanish-Portuguese co-production

Based on The Tempest
by William Shakespeare.

Say, my spirit,
how fares the King and his followers?

Your charm so strongly works them,

that if you now beheld them,
you would become tender.

Mine would, were I human.

Have you, which are but air,
a feeling of their afflictions,

I, one of their kind,
who can relish as sharp a pain,

be kindlier moved than you are?

Go release them, Ariel.
My charms I'll break,

their senses I'll restore,
and they shall be themselves.

And then, I bid you free to the air.
Farewell.

Farewell, Prospero.

Farewell.

Farewell.

Lies your father at the bottom.

Of his bones are coral made.

Pearls shine in his eyes.

Eyes that soon will close

to look back.

Waves that come and go.

Siren's chanting.

Ships, sailing ships and more

with their black sails go...

to be wrecked

at sea!

At sea!

Next to him...

wrecked.

Next to him...

at sea.

...it's like a spell.

Shakespeare is this:

a crystal that makes you want to break it!

You must dare, right?
And see what happens.

Indeed.
Having a play inside another play...

like Pirandello

in Six Characters in Search of an Author.

A nesting doll,
with a box inside another box.

Here they are.
This is José.

And this is Agus.
She is the new Ariel.

Congratulations. It was so good.
A pleasure to see you all on stage.

-How was the trip?
-Good.

Just got here.

I'm still a bit... seasick.

Don't get too comfortable
with this schedule.

We'll be in the middle of the Atlantic
in no time.

You're all going tomorrow?

Oh, I'm so jealous right now.

So, there you will meet
other performers, Portuguese actors,

who are also part of the troupe.

And there will also be some changes.

Hugo and José are going to be
the drunkards of The Tempest.

I really want to be there.

Where are you flying to?

We'll fly to São Miguel.

And from there we'll take
a ferry to Faial.

I think it's a long boat trip.

Oh, great.

Tomorrow you're visiting your family.
That's right?

Yes, I came with my aunts to see the play.

-That's great. Did they like it?
-They seemed happy.

But they were a bit tired
and headed home.

Well, I'll let you get changed.

Shall we meet later for a drink?

Yes, please.

The Tempest
seems to be Shakespeare's last play.

The text we'll be reading

is his goodbye to writing.

He says so,
by speaking through a character.

That's lovely. A farewell like this.

Will you read it?

"Our revels now are ended.

These actors, as I foretold you,
were all spirits

and melted into air,

into thin air."

You read it now.

"And all which it inherit,
shall dissolve."

It means "to wither".

"Dissolve like my insubstantial play.

Not a speck of dust will remain."

"Po" is dust.

Just that.

And who is your character?

I'll play Ariel, who is an air spirit.

But she can turn into wind, water, fire.

Here we also believe in spirits.

We already told you this.

Yes, you did.

In fact, Ariel is one of those spirits
you told me about.

But she is under the command
of this man, Prospero,

who sends her on tasks
all over the island.

But all Ariel wants is to be free.

Oh, freedom...

Life is too short.

We must engage in living without fear.

Or else life will just pass
before our eyes.

And before you realise it,

you're sitting here, on this chair,
with a walking cane,

blaming yourself
for not making the most of life.

For not daring to live.

This Shakespeare
really lived his life to the fullest.

He'll never die.

He's still here with us.

That's the wonder of Art.

Your mother made the most
of this gift we're given.

This borrowing that life is.

Life is but a tale.

But we are the ones writing it.

We have to write it ourselves.

And when we die,
we all become characters.

Our story is already told.

And this! I see...

But I'm saying:
some clothes and that's it.

No. How can I put this...

I have to say...

this part here is poorly written.

What do you mean
it is poorly written?

I just think it is not well written.

-Ariel!
-Yes, no, no...

The notes in purple
are meant for the director.

Yes, but that's not enough.
I've got some clothes,

a bit of alcohol, some promises.
It's not enough!

I mean, I see a struggle
in each character I play.

You know I'm a method actor
who likes to work thoroughly....

So I need some steps

to mark my emotional voyage,
can't you see?

I need to envision
my character's endgame

so I can reach it, and you know,
I'm missing some input!

I need some input!

I think we are freaking out
about Shakespeare

and this part is poorly written.

Okay, let's go on with the scene, please.

Take it from the top!
From the top!

Oh, yeah? Really?

Just like that?

Well, I just want to say that,
at least for me...

and I mean "for me".

"For me" the play was going fine

with the side stories well segmented...

and all of a sudden
everything is rushed.

That's what I'm saying.

Rushed?

We're talking about bloody Shakespeare,

not an emerging author!

Are you stupid?

-Calm down!
-It's Shakespeare, dammit!

I'm just saying...

You are an asshole!

It's badly written.

Are you an actor or not?

Very well.

The only thing we ask of you
is respect the marks,

read your lines,

don't trip over the fucking props

and don't interrupt the scene!

We need to find Caliban and the drunkards.

Where did you leave them?

They are red-hot from drinking.

So full of valour that they smote the air

for breathing in their faces.

Calm down: let your terrors cease.

Tell your piteous heart
there's no harm done.

Now my plan gathers to an end.

My charms crack not.

Become air and remain invisible.

I drink the air and return,

before your pulse beats twice.

You do love me, master, yes?

Dearly, my delicate Ariel.

I dreamt I was amidst a tempest.

So did I.

Did you dream about a tempest?

With thunder and huge waves.

So did I.

And me also.

I dreamt it too.

The Azores Triangle.

Mirror Islands.

What you see in one island
happens in the other.

If there's mist
on the north of one island,

there's also mist
on the north of the other.

This number does not exist.

Hi José, Hugo, how are you doing?

Well, I've arrived in Faial.

Are you at the ferry terminal?

Because I can't find you.

I'll wait for you
next to the arrivals gate.

And I'll see you in a bit. Bye.

It's me again.

I cannot reach you.

And you're not getting my messages.

I don't know what's going on.

I hope you're okay.

I'll be here, waiting for you.

That's it. Bye.

"What is past is prologue.
Many days in an hour."

"What is past is prologue.
Many days in an hour."

"What is past is prologue.
Many days..."

Excuse me, ma'am.
Do you know the Hotel "Mediodía"?

No. No.

Never. Never.

Listen here, girl.

There was never a place
with that name here on the island.

Never.

But we are on Faial island?

Faial, Faial, Faial.

Pico, Pico, Pico...

"What is past is prologue.
Many days in an hour."

"What is past is prologue.
Many days in an hour."

"What is past is prologue.
Many days in an hour."

Good morning,
do you have a room for tonight?

The night...

Nights run after the day.

Days run after the night.

Yes, just for one night.

My eyes are burning.

Announcing tears, perhaps?

Tears?

No.

One. Just... one... night.

Just one.

If the land could be sown with tears,

each drop from that one

would become a crocodile.

So let's see here.

The news is confusing.

One cannot believe what they say.

It is contradictory.

My letter reads...

One hundred and seven galleys.

And mine reads one hundred and forty.

And them? Did they never whisper?

Never, my lord.

I heard every syllable
in their conversation...

Top floor.

Thank you.

Do you know where
I can find the Faialense Theatre?

The theatre doors are open, miss.

The whole island is a theatre.

I've been politic with my friend,

smooth with mine enemy,

and I've ruined three tailors.

Peace, you dull fool.

I found them on a tree.

-Let the forest judge.
-Of course, of course.

The man who doesn't feed on his dreams

will soon grow old.

Which floor, young lady?

The top floor.

When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, in rain or lightning?

When the battle's noise ends,

and some win, and others lose.

That will be before the sunset.

There we'll find Macbeth.

Let's go, the toad is calling us.

Evil is goodness, and Goodness is evil.

Let's cut through the air and the mist.

This number does not exist.

This number does not exist.

This number does not exist.

Good morning.

Is everything okay?
Do you like the room?

Yes, thank you.

I'm having some trouble with my phone.

I've tried to call several people and
it keeps saying the numbers don't exist.

Imagination.

Characters.

People coming out of someone's head.

Here people don't appreciate theatre.

The wind doesn't blow.

Do you understand me, Ariel?

-Bye.
-Have a good day, miss.

So much milk in Azores!

So many cows producing milk!

There are twice as many cows as humans.

They own the island.

Even if we keep them as slaves.

But why so much milk?

So much milk!

The European Union orders it.

We must produce milk.

And in exchange,
we have to buy tractors from Germany.

He who never felt a wound

jests at my scars.

Let tombs be the only fruit of men's toil

and death their only gain.

Sun, hide your beams.

Ten kilos of apples more

and another ten kilos of oranges.

Are you paying attention, Caliban?

And all the boxes
are to be delivered this afternoon.

Prospero, if by your magic,

the wild waters are in this roar,

calm them.

That sea, mounting the sky,

dashes the fire out.

You know not where I came from.

I am not just Prospero.

Owner of a poor fruit shop.

Twelve years ago,

I was the Duke of Milan.

And my eternal nemesis,
the King of Naples,

joined efforts with my brother,
to betray me.

Liar!

Abhorred slave.

Which any kind of goodness
will not understand.

I pitied you,
and took pains to teach you to speak.

You did... teach me.

You... you taught me.

Teach... taught...

You taught me to speak,
but what I learned was to curse.

You taught me to speak,
but what I learned was to curse.

This island is mine,
by Sycorax, my mother.

And you stole it from me.

Do you want to come, sir,
where there's no wind?

To mine own coffin.

The air bites shrewdly.

What time is it?

I think it lacks of twelve.

At this time, the ghost usually comes.

Come on.

Ariel.

I cannot.

It's always the same, the same.

What sense does it make?

Just continue.
You can do it.

Just a few more sentences
and it'll be over.

I invoke you.

I invoke you.

Hamlet.

King.

Father.

Sovereign of Denmark.

Hey you!

Yes, you!
Can you come here?

Can you close the door?

When I tell you,
you lift his arm, okay?

And us,

fools of nature,

why all this?

What should we do?

That's it!

You did it very well.

I'll just leave you here, okay?
I need to go now.

Thank you very much.

Could you come with me?

Bye.

My dearest love, Duncan,
is coming tonight.

Really?
And when is he leaving?

Tomorrow, he says.

He will never see tomorrow's sun.

Your face, my love,
is an open book to me.

Your face must hide
what your soul meditates.

Bear welcome in your eyes,
your hands and your tongue,

to King Duncan.

To beguile the time, look like the time.

-Do you know the play Macbeth?
-I do.

-Do you know the lines?
-I do.

Great.

See that woman over there?
In the green coat?

She can never remember her lines.
Can you help her?

Why are you yelling?

The Queen is dead.

I wish she had died later...

That misleading word:

tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Creeps in a petty pace.

Taking us, from day to day, to our grave.

And the brief candle of all our yesterdays

has lighted fools the way
to dusty death.

Out, out, life candle!

Life's but a walking shadow...

I could've sworn that Birnam forest
is moving over here.

They already know this part.

If you speak falsely...

upon the next tree shall you hang alive.

If your speech be true,

you hang me.

What is going on?

What do you mean?

What's all this about Shakespeare?

What's your name?

Agustina.

When have you arrived on the island?

I arrived this morning with the ferry.

How come you are so familiar
with Shakespeare's plays?

I'm an actress.

With my friend Matias Piñeiro,
who is a director,

we've made many films
based on Shakespeare.

An actress...

And who are you?

Ariel.

I mean your real name,
not your character.

My real name is Ariel.

It's the name Shakespeare gave me
when he created me.

Shakespeare?

You are on the island
of Shakespeare's characters.

We are all characters here.

Are you kidding me?

As we speak, all over the island,
characters are performing their plays.

But how?

They start with each sunrise...

and it's really important that

before the sun sets over the sea

they have finished.

So...

What you're saying is

that every person I came across on
the island is a Shakespearean character.

And why am I here?

I don't know. You tell me.

I came here to perform in a play.

A play by whom?

Shakespeare.

Which one?

I play Ariel in The Tempest.

Well, I fear that the play
has already started...

But I am not a character.

Are you sure?

And for whom do you perform?

For whom?

Well, for no one.

You need an audience.

We don't.

We, the characters, just are.

How did you get here?

Me?

I just appeared.

Like all the other characters, I guess.

I don't know.
We appear in someone's head

we insist,

we insist and...

we take shape.

What happens if you don't finish
the plays before the sunset?

That has never happened,
nor will it happen.

Our fate is written.

How long have you been performing
the same play?

I have no idea.

Centuries? Years?

We don't feel the passage of time.

The book opens...

and the book closes.

There's only the present.

The present of the play

and we just let ourselves
be carried away by it.

By the way...

I was the one who created
the tempest that brought you here.

Why?

Because the play begins like this.

I had to do it.

I couldn't avoid doing it.

You couldn't avoid doing it?

You seem quite happy, Ariel.

Why are you so loyal to Shakespeare?

Well...

If you're happy that way...

go on being like that.

Under Shakespeare, or Prospero,
as they are one and the same.

Mind that you are Ariel.

The one who wants to live,

the one who wants to be free.

What a waste of bravery...

I expected more from you, Ariel!

In that sense,

Hamlet and the Dionysian man
are very similar.

Both have truly seen
the essence of all things.

They acquired knowledge.

And nausea inhibits action.

Because they know that their actions

would not change a thing
in the eternal nature of things.

Of course.

Hamlet believes it to be

pathetic and humiliating
to be invited

to fix a crazed world.

Knowledge kills any action.

Action does demand the veils of illusion.

What light through that window breaks?

It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.

Were her eyes in heaven,
and the stars in her face,

her eyes would through
the airy region stream so bright.

Oh me!

By whose direction
found'st you out this place?

Love.

I swear by the moon that
tips with silver the tree tops,

Swear not by the moon,
the inconstant moon.

That monthly changes in her circled orb.

Lest your love prove likewise variable.

What shall I swear by?

Swear by your gracious self,

which is the god of my idolatry,
and I'll believe you.

Here's the smell of the blood still.

All the perfumes of Arabia
will not sweeten my little hands.

Who would imagine that old man
had so much blood in him?

To die,

to sleep,

to wake no more.

To be able to say: everything is over.

And by sleep to bury
the pains of the heart forever.

The endless sadness
that our flesh is heir to.

Who wouldn't want to end up like this?

To die, to sleep.

To sleep, maybe...

maybe to dream.

When we hear not a murmur
from the world,

what dreams may come,
in that sleep of death.

There...

from the other side of the grave:

the death.

The undiscovered land.

To be, or not to be.

That is the question.

To be, or not to be.

To be, or not to be.

To be, or not to be.

They're going to fall in love.

This number does not exist.

Hi, Marta. How are you?
Agus here.

Sorry to leave you this message.

I'm here on the island.

But I haven't been able
to meet Hugo and José.

Can't find a way to reach them.

Or anybody, for that matter.

Nor can I reach the theatre.

Everything is a bit strange here.

I don't know if I should be worried or...

whether Hugo and José are okay...

Call me if you hear this message,
if it reaches you and...

and that's it.

Hugs and kisses.

What are you doing here?

We're entering the castle.

What castle?

There is no castle here!

They say Macbeth is inside.

Why would Macbeth be here?

The forest must go forth.

There is a voice in the air.

Good morning.

Who are you?

Hero and Ursula.

What play are you from?
Is it Shakespeare?

Nobody knows us...

Don't worry.

I must confess I don't know
much about Shakespeare.

And you know what they say:

"There is no such thing
as a small character".

I say that all the time.

And who is he?

The Unnamable.

From Beckett?

What's he doing here?

He reached the coast two days ago.

Beckett's characters...

live on the next island.

Every once in a while,
they appear around here.

When they get tired of waiting around.

But they're not famous
for their communicative skills.

I'll wake...

in the silence

and never sleep again.

It will be I?

Or keep dreaming

dream of a silence,

a dream silence,

full of murmurs,

I don't know, that's all words,

never wake, all words...

Oh, so light your skin.

It will never wear down the eternal rock.

Let us hold hands,

and I shall not fear
not even love-devouring Death.

Oh, Juliet, if the measure
of your joy it's like mine

light up the air with your words.

True love is richer
in matter than in words.

Richer in essence than in form.

My treasure: my love, it is so big,
I couldn't count even half of it.

I curse Prospero.

Damn Faialense.

They're coming. Hide, Romeo.

I will not go.

The mist of my torment
will hide me from them.

Tell me, Juliet,

where in my body is my name?

Tell me, I want to rob
its heinous dwelling.

Prospero is Shakespeare!

Caliban just revealed this to me!

It's a lie! Liar!

Trinculo,

if you trouble me any more,
by this hand I will supplant your teeth.

As I heard Ariel say,

Shakespeare has us all as slaves.

Shakespeare has us all as slaves.

His plays are our cage.

One cannot escape from his words.

Our fates are written in his book.

As is the fate of all the characters
on this island.

The book never leaves his side.

He never leaves the book.

And where do we find Shakespeare?

I will take you to him.

And while we steal his book,

you could paunch him with a stake.

Or with a log batter his skull.

Or gut him with a stake!

Or with your knife
cut Shakespeare's throat!

But first, let's take the book away!

We must break Shakespeare's sentences.

The bars of our cage.

We must destroy the book,
and free all the characters.

Better still,
we can write our own fate!

That's it.
We will become the authors!

So...

If we, as characters,

can only do what was written for us,

this rebellion we're now planning,

who came up with it?

Could there be someone else outside

writing what we have to do?

Let's not open this can of worms.

I came up with it.

The idea was mine.

But I will make all of you... authors.

I just want to be written a good fate.

I'll wake...

in the silence

and never sleep again.

It will be I?

Or dream again.

Dream of a silence.

A dream silence.

Full of murmurs.

I don't know,

that's all words.

Never wake, all words,

there's nothing else.

I must go on,

that's all I know.

They're not going to stop.

I can feel it.

They're going to abandon me.

It will be the silence,

for a moment.

Here you are! Finally!

To what do we owe your presence, miss?

Would you grace me with your name?

Why are you moving like that?

It's me, Agus!

The actress who came to replace Marta.

Don't you remember?

We met two days ago.

There are many days in two days.

Forgive us.

To which play do you belong?

I don't belong to any play.

I belong to the Earth.
To the Universe!

Yeah, I know but...

Who wrote you?

No one wrote me.

But of course not. Of course.

We are free. We are free.

Here, each of us is free
to do as we will!

I'm sorry!

I'm not in control of my actions.

Your name is Hugo,

and you are José!

You are both actors.

You have a theatre troupe
called "Voadora".

Remember?

You do a sort of pop-Shakespeare.

Pop?

-What is she saying?
-Pop.

Pop-Shakespeare?

Pop-Shakespeare.

Allow me to introduce you:

Caliban 1,

Caliban 2.

Let me also introduce you to Trinculo.

And Stephano.
The Tempest drunkards.

You're actors!

You act!

You came to this island
to do a theatre play!

And I don't know how,
these madmen have eaten your brains.

Miss Agustina,

I'm truly sorry,

but we don't understand a word
of what you're saying.

Don't you?

I want a ticket to São Miguel.
On the first boat off the island.

On your face,
there's the trace of an unshed tear.

I'm not in the mood for jokes.

Please, I need a ticket
to leave the island.

Can you sell me a ticket, please?

Better to be king of your words
than slave of your silences.

One ticket. Just one ticket
to get off this island.

This number does not exist.

This number does not exist.

This number does not exist.

This number does not exist.

What are you doing?
What are you saying?

I have wasted my time.

Now the time is wasting me.

Please, I need a ticket
to get off this island.

On the first boat out of here.

I want a ticket out of here!

No boat ever departs from here, miss.
Arrivals only.

This is the destination.
You can't leave this place.

Here I am.

What would my potent master?

Ariel, spirit.

We must now face
Caliban and the drunkards.

Where did you leave them?

Where did you leave them?

I can't do it.

I can't do this any more.
I'm not strong enough.

To repeat this text
day after day, after day...

What's the point?

We exist for this. It's our job.

Who is forcing us?

Don't you like being Ariel?

I don't know if what I feel
are my actual feelings.

My own. Not what Shakespeare
has written that I should feel.

I do not trust my thoughts,

my emotions, my desires.

Who guides our desires?

That's how this world works.

And can't we live any other way?

On this island, it's the only way.

Well, I want to leave this island.

Shakespeare has shown little sympathy,
leaving us trapped in this tale.

Ariel...

we must finish this play.

I know.

We must find Caliban and the drunkards.

Where did you leave them?

We must find Caliban and the drunkards.

Where did you leave them?

They were red-hot with drinking.

So full of valour that they smote the air
for breathing in their faces.

So I charmed their ears.

Calf-like, they my lowing followed
through pricking goss and thorns.

Now my plan gathers to the end.

My charms crack not.

What time is it?

Time to remember what you
have promised: my freedom, sir.

But there's more work.

Become air and remain invisible.

Do you love me, master?

With my soul, my delicate Ariel.

I drink the air and return,

before your pulse beats twice.

Give words to the pain:

the pain that does not speak,

moans in the heart until it breaks.

I know who you are!

I know you.

Your name is Irene Escolar,
you're an actress.

I've seen you acting several times.

I recently saw you
in a film by Jonás Trueba.

You must be mistaken.

No.

I'm not mistaken. It's you.

You come from a family of actors.

Your uncle, your aunt, your grandma,

your great grandmother,
your great-great-grandmother...

and her own mother,
they were all actresses.

Like you.

Do you remember it?

It's you.

Are you sure?

Is this going to happen to me, as well?

Hugo and José came here yesterday.

When will I forget who I am?

Here there's no yesterday.

There's no tomorrow, there's no past.

It's always the same day.

Tabula rasa.

With every sunrise the book opens again,
and we start from scratch.

Come.

I am Ariel.

I am water,

wind,

mist and fire.

I follow Prospero's orders,

but he's promised
to give me back my freedom.

Ariel always travels north
at the end of the day.

That's where Shakespeare's
tragedies take place.

The comedies are more spread out
across the island,

because their endings
are more pleasant.

Everyone ends up getting married
or forgiving each other.

The characters don't have any trouble
finishing them.

But the characters in the tragedies...

It's hard for them to face
that they must die.

That's why Ariel goes north,

to make sure all the plays
are finished on time.

I see.

I'm afraid.

I don't believe we can finish them.

What will happen
if we don't finish the plays?

We're going to finish them.

Ariel, where exactly is each play located?

Right now, Othello
should be happening in the market.

King Lear should be on the pier.

Romeo and Juliet
in the fields next to the volcano.

Hamlet in the caves,

and Timon of Athens
on the stairs to the church.

They're so many.

If we are characters,

does it mean we are all dead?

I don't know if you are dead.

But I also don't know if you're alive.

And this place?

Is this Reality?

I don't know any more
what that word means.

And tell me the truth, I beg you.

You think that what I do and feel,
doesn't come from me?

But is instead
an occurrence of Shakespeare?

It doesn't work like that, Prospero.

They are not mere whims of the author.

It is the character who tells
the author what he must do.

And not the other way around.

Good writers are those
who listen to their characters.

Those who obey them.

And Shakespeare, believe me,
was a good author.

You whispered your wishes to him.

Ah, dear Juliet,
why are you still so beautiful?

Shall I believe that
unsubstantial Death is in love with you?

For fear of that,
I will stay here with you forever.

Here will I remain with worms...

My everlasting rest...

Your chamber-maids.

Romeo, have you seen how low the sun is?

Come on, faster.

Juliet.

Where is my Romeo?

He's here, he's dead. Come on, Juliet...

A cup, closed in my true love's hand?

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.

Yes. It was poison.
Hurry up, kiss him.

O churl! He drank all.

And left not a friendly drop
to help me after.

I will kiss his lips.

Haply some poison
still hang on them for me.

Okay, let's go on to the next one.

It's done.

They're not getting up.

They're dead, Ariel.

They fought valiantly for their love.

Are they really dead?

As real as a character can be.

If a character dies, it is us who die.

Do not worry.

Tomorrow at sunrise
the play will start again,

and they will be alive again.

Die, Hamlet!

Our son will win.

A touch, a touch, I do confess.

Ariel,

why must we die?

Shakespeare,

why do you make us die?

There were other solutions.

I could have given them my kingdom,

or gone into exile.

Shakespeare,

why are you making us die?

I demand an answer.

Hamlet,

you were killed.

The sword is poisoned.

No medicine in the world can do you good.

The king's to blame.

Hold on.

In this tiring life,

in this world of pain.

Hold on,

to tell my story.

Now cracks a noble heart.

Good eternal night, loved prince.

It's important to tell his story.

Look at the sun!

There's still so many plays.
We can't finish them all...

Time is more flexible in fiction.

And we are air spirits.

If you were to die now,
would you be happy with your life?

Not yet.

And you?

I think so.

And why is that?

The dreams I had for myself,
I've touched them.

To be Ariel gives your life meaning?

I know why I am here.

Who gets to decide our dreams?

Never just by ourselves.

To Shakespeare, what do you think
gave meaning to his life?

To write these plays, I guess.

Maybe for you and me...

but for himself?

What would he feel
gave meaning to his life?

To spend time with his children.

To receive their love.

Ariel,

what gives life meaning?

What fills your chest with love.

The tragedy of King Lear.

His three daughters, dead.

Howl, howl, howl.

Oh, you are men of stone.

Had I your tongues and eyes,
I'd use them so

that heaven's vault should crack.

They're gone forever!

They're dead as the ground.

Break, heart!

I beg you, break!

Even though you're dead,
Desdemona, hear me!

Can you hear me?

Who can oppose destiny?

Your song foreshadowed it.

I want to be like the swan
and die in music.

To make myself
swirl incessantly in the winds.

Willow, willow, willow, willow.

The Queen is dead.

I wish she had died later...

That misleading word:

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Creeps in a petty pace,

taking us, from day to day

to the last syllable of the written time.

And all our yesterdays
light us until falling in the grave.

Out, out, brief life candle!

Life's but a walking shadow,

a costume that struts
its hour upon the stage,

and then is heard no more.

When we hear not a murmur from the world,

what dreams will come
in the sleep of death?

My lord, I should report what I saw,
but I hardly dare.

Say it without fear.

My lord...

I would swear Birnam Forest
is moving towards us.

If you speak false,

upon the next tree shalt you hang alive.

If your speech be truth,

do for me as much.

We just need to finish our own play.

The Tempest.

Fine apparition, beautiful Ariel,

take the drunkards to the forest.

And bring the Calibans to me.

So will it be done, master.

So will it be done.

We are now close to Prospero.

Coraggio, monster! Coraggio!

Oh, Capelinhos!

Before, all of this was the sea.

Until the volcano erupted.

I saw it.

Ashes coming out of the water.

Fire everywhere.

Flaming tongues.

Where are you taking us, monster?

If I should take a displeasure
against you...

You'll be a dead monster.

Be patient!

For the prize I'll bring to you

is huge.

The book!

Be patient!

Be patient!

The book! The book!

We will be the authors!

The characters' rebellion!

Be careful, monster...

Let's see what story we'll write for you.

I already have a couple of ideas.

We are near.

We are very near!

Where does this music come from?

The air...?

The ground...?

The sea...?

Full fathom five thy father lies.
Of his bones are coral made.

Those are pearls that were his eyes.
Nothing of him that doth fade,

but doth suffer a sea-change
into something rich and strange.

Well done, spirit:

Set Caliban free.
Untie the spell.

What do you want, Caliban?

What fair purpose do you seek now?

Give us the book, Shakespeare!

Why are you calling me "Shakespeare"?

Give us the book.

We are entitled to choose our fate.

Here there are only orders

and debts from our clients.

Yours as well, you thief!

So where is Shakespeare?

Where is Shakespeare?

He's long time dead.

We must steal his books.

Even if you steal his books,

you scratch them,

you rewrite them, or burn them,

nothing will change our fate.

We are all condemned to repeat this story

time and time again.

When will it end?

When will this torture end?

Not even by dying
can we leave this place.

You die,

and the book is then again opened

to start over again.

Us, the characters,

we are eternal ghosts.

Eternal ghosts...

All that is missing is the epilogue.

As poor Prospero is not okay now,
I'll do it myself.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown.

And what strength I have's mine own,
which is most faint...

Now, 'tis true, I must be here
confined by you, or sent to Naples...

Don't follow.

Don't finish the text.

Stop there.

I can't, Agus. I just can't.

I am Ariel.

We are Ariel.

We exist for this.

Life is an adventure.

But you must believe so, Irene.

Even if you don't remember
that your name is Irene.

Just like Hugo and José
don't remember who they are.

I don't know where we are.

If I'm alive or dead.

If I'm inside a dream

or inside a play or a film.

If this was written by Shakespeare

or Matias Piñeiro or Lois Patiño

or whoever created all this.

All I know...

is that when the sun disappears,

the day is going to end.

The book is going to close.

The screen is going to turn off.

And we will disappear.

We'll disappear
when the screen is turned off.

And if the sun rises again,

if someone opens the book again

or puts the film back on,

everything will start again

in exactly the same way.

But we, the characters,

we're not going to remember anything
of what we have just lived through.

Let's rebel, Irene!

Let's not do what they ask of us!

Let's not finish the play.

Let's not finish this film.

What if I say the text without saying it?

Only here...

Life belongs to the brave, Irene.

If we, light shadows, have offended,

kind spectators,

think but this, and all will be mended:

here you have done nothing but sleep,

while these visions did appear.

Thus, this humble and fragile fiction,

would have nothing
but the inconsistency of a dream.

And in the ashes of the stars,

the poor characters shall remain,
lying down,

after having drunk

the drop of emptiness that the sea lacks.