Original subtitles

[instrumental music, something unsettling]

[baroque music, Handel]

[Lúcio]Ten years in prison served

for a crime I didn't commit,

and of which, however, I never defended myself.

Dead to life and dreams,

waiting for nothing,

and desiring nothing.

I come to do, finally, my confession.

That is,

to demonstrate my innocence.

Maybe they don't believe me.

I'm sure they don't believe me.

But it doesn't matter.

I don't need to be rehabilitated.

I only tell the truth,

even when it is unlikely.

Cherchez la femme.

[birds chirping]

[Lúcio] My dear!

[Gervásio] My dear Lúcio, you missed the biggest party of the century!

All of Paris was at the American's Palace yesterday! An unforgettable spectacle.

Falls of light, electrifying flames!

So much sensualism explored, absolutely unforgettable.

Impossible to describe.

It's not me, ever, who own my lovers…

- They are the ones who own me! - [Lúcio] False modesty, my dear.

You know, Lúcio, what makes an artist a great artist…

- [Lúcio] Say it. - It's not just the style of his work,

It's also the way you dress,

your gestures, the way you love, your entire way of being.

All of this defines the genius of the great artist.

Why, my friend, call "genius" to an obese scoundrel like Balzac…

It's not right. It's not fair, nor acceptable!

But there are so many great artists out there, much inferior in terms of physical appearance.

Knowing how to steal a little of God's soul, that's a great artist.

Here comes Ricardo de Loureiro. Poet of Embers!

- Do you know Ricardo, Lúcio? - No, but I admire his work.

It is essential that you know him,

a brilliant man who levitates above mortals.

[Ricardo] I'm glad I found him! I barely feared that I had come here in vain.

[Gervásio] Now, come on!

The writer and playwright, Lúcio Vaz,

the poet, Ricardo de Loureiro.

A privilege to meet you in person.

I am a humble and dedicated reader of your poetry:

"I look around me

Everyone has an affection A smile or a hug

Only for my cravings to be diluted And I don't have

Even when I link

Oh power

Being able to suck one day

Anyway

The purple and macerated taste Of the mystery

The mystery of writing! Let's sit down, gentlemen.

Gervásio told me about you.

I know the volume of your novels.

I especially like the story "João Tortura".

It's rare to find such genuine melancholic prose.

It gives me great pleasure to know.

- And it’s curious… - What?

Choosing this story.

It is by far my favorite among the poems I wrote,

and the only one that critics don't highlight. - Ah, critics!

Do you want romance grocers to understand us?

You know what we can expect from the Portuguese press.

And it's never too late to find a soulmate.

In the aesthetic and literary sense, well understood.

If you'll excuse me.

[background noise of people talking]

[sound of horse pulling carriage]

For me, nothing new delights me anymore.

Everything bothers me.

My rare enthusiasms, when measuring them…

… I find them petty.

It's not just the things I own that bother me anymore,

just as I am fed up with those I don't have.

Write.

Don't stop writing.

Leave your work…

Let your work save you.

I know we just met,

but allow me to offer all the help you need.

Think about the future,

think…

… in the world there is to conquer. - The future…

The future…

To this day I still haven't seen myself in it.

And the things I don't see myself in, they never happened to me.

I miss this future you talk about.

[sighs] But I thank you for your encouragement, dear Lúcio.

Maybe meeting you will help me change.

I'm sure yes.

Lúcio!

Do you have anything scheduled for tomorrow at 3pm?

- Not that I remember. - Then you will.

At the Robert Oudin Theatre?

Combined.

Goodnight.

[sigh]

[somewhat unsettling instrumental music]

Tell me, Lúcio,

Are you not subject to certain inexplicable fears?

Like what?

I'm afraid of those dancers.

- [Lúcio] Are you kidding? - [Ricardo] Look carefully.

All dressed in the same suits,

the same bare legs, the same faint features,

the same gentle air, all the same.

We cannot assign them a life,

a lover, a past,

habits or ways of being.

We cannot separate them from the whole.

It's terrifying. Dreadful…!

[sighs, sound of the projector, groans]

- Richard! - Oh!

My dear. Dear Lúcio!

How I bless the hour in which we meet.

Ah... "La Bocca della Veritá".

I don't know if you know the legend of this statue.

A real lie detector.

Legend has it that if you're lying,

the statue tears off our hand.

Do you accept the challenge?

It would be good if it were possible to ascertain women's fidelity.

[Ricardo lets out a little laugh]

And does Lúcio find it easy to make new friends?

These good people who come here, live, don't think.

Most of them are happy, normal.

As for me, I don't know how to have affection.

I see how women look at you.

They do not seek anything other than these affections.

I always felt like a social outsider, you know?

Really? It doesn't seem like it.

I am an isolated person who knows half the world. At least, that's how I feel.

Can you believe I can't conceive of myself in my old age?

If there were no absolute certainty that we all die,

I, not seeing myself dead, I wouldn't believe my death.

And you don't aspire, like any artist, to immortality?

Thus escaping death?

Everyone believes me to be a mysterious man,

for not falling in love, not have lovers.

I can't be friends with anyone.

Don't protest, I'm not your friend.

To be someone's friend, It would be necessary for me to own it first…

… whoever I cherished, woman or man.

But a creature of our sex, we cannot possess.

I could only be friends with a creature of my sex

if this creature, or me, would change sex.

In respect of all the people for whom I feel tenderness

there is this desire that I feel in my soul, to kiss them.

Give back,

narrow, possess.

Don't think I feel this in my flesh. No! I feel it in my soul.

Everything in this city is liturgical to me…

My religion is Paris!

Paris, Paris…

[Ricardo sighs]

We profess the same faith, my dear.

Come with me tomorrow to the Saint-Croix exhibition at the Grand Palais.

They say he is the most exciting sculptor of this century!

I would love to, but unfortunately I won't be able to.

I have a meeting with a lawyer.

Documents to sign, because of my father's inheritance.

I'm sorry you go through these worries.

I would be happy to have you for company.

To tell me what you think.

I wrote last night, after we met.

I don't know what to say.

Don't say anything.

Grant me this pleasure.

[soft instrumental music]

[Ricardo off the record] Love is a flame that kills

They all say it rightly

It's a malaise of the heart

And with it one goes crazy

Love is a smile

Smile that fades

Lock that comes undone They also call it

Love is not a good

Whoever loves always suffers

Love is a perfume

Perfume that fades

[bell]

- Yes sir? - Good morning.

I'm Lúcio Vaz. I have a meeting with Mr. Ricardo at 10 am.

One moment, please.

This is for you.

- Thanks. - You're welcome.

[footsteps moving away and soft instrumental music]

[Ricardo off the record] My dear Lúcio.

I had to urgently return to Lisbon.

I found my destiny.

I look forward to seeing you again and sharing so much happiness with you.

[serene and contemplative instrumental music continues]

[Lúcio in narration] Dear Ricardo,

we were apart for a year.

Our correspondence was null.

Three letters from me and two from you.

In December, I return to Lisbon.

A big, big hug,

Lúcio.

[car approaching]

Every other week, I have to take the car to the workshop!

Oh!

Do you know who I met yesterday at Brasileira?

Our "Rodin do Chiado": Gervásio Vila-Nova!

- He came back a month ago! - Yeah.

His sister is sick, as far as I know.

- Did it look good? - The usual,

more full of himself and would exploded.

And you, what do you tell me?

My father's house needs care.

I couldn't delay coming any longer.

[birds chirping]

My dear Lúcio…

It's good to have you here.

It's good to be back.

Every Thursday there is a small soirée at the house.

We welcome friends, fun people.

You will see!

Did you say "we received"…?

Ricardo?

Am I missing something?

You are going to dinner at my house today. I make a point of honor,

we have to celebrate…

…your arrival! - Hum-hum. Very good.

[housekeeper] Doctor Ricardo asks to wait a little.

For sure.

It is possible that Doctor Ricardo will still take a while.

Do you want to drink something?

No, thanks.

[footsteps moving away]

[hear muffled sounds in the distance]

[instrumental music, ethereal and suspended]

[put away the lipstick]

[sound of footsteps below]

Doctor Ricardo is ready to welcome you.

Lúcio!

[Lúcio] My dear!

- You are nicely set up! - Let's go.

Are you sure you don't want one?

I thank you.

[sound of glasses]

[sound of water running]

[Lúcio] It seems like just yesterday we saw each other in Paris.

It all happened so fast.

[Ricardo] It's true, my dear.

It is true.

Please.

But I see you happy. That's what matters to me.

And I am.

You can't imagine how much.

And Paris?

[Lúcio] As always: not giving us a damn, but offering us everything.

[they both laugh]

Does Marta know Paris?

Marta knows everything.

At least, all that matters to men of our appetite and nature.

[Lúcio] Forgive my boldness.

Where did you meet?

[Marta] And where would you like us to have met?

[everyone laughs, releasing the tension]

In a way, even before I was born, Ricardo was already dear and familiar to me.

It's as if, even without us knowing each other,

we had never separated.

[Lúcio] I understand.

There are those who go their entire lives without finding this complicity.

It's more than complicity.

Have you finished the new play, Lúcio?

Well, actually…

- I have doubts about the piece. - [Ricardo] Nonsense!

Lúcio…

The excerpts he sent me are superior to Oscar Wilde's "Salome."

- Ricardo...

- Do you believe that I read some passages to Marta,

and that she memorized the text immediately? Especially the verses!

[everyone laughs]

[Marta recites poem] "Purple Insomnia

The light turning into fear

Dead moonlight More soul than the moon

She dances It creaks

The meat

Naked alcohol

It spreads to me In a spasm of secrecy"

[Lúcio] I've never believed my own words so much, Marta!

- Bravo! Bravo! - Bravo!

[everyone laughs]

Bravo!

[sound of conversations and soft music]

Good night.

Very cool.

I'm glad you think so.

[Ricardo] Lúcio…

I present to you Count Sergei Warginski,

now commercial attaché at the Russian embassy in Lisbon.

Nice to meet you.

De Loureiro!

You…

You are truly a man of good taste!

Don't think you can keep her all to yourself.

That never crossed my mind.

In this regard, Marta and I are also similar, she…

She do as she pleases.

So, if you'll excuse me.

I don't know how you can handle it...

What a shame!

Jealousy is the poison of the weak, my friend.

Well I know it's none of my business, but if she were my wife,

I wouldn't let anyone get close to her.

Ricardo…

I ask you to forgive me, I wasn't trying to be inconvenient.

- It's just because... - No, no. Don't worry, Lúcio.

It was one of the most flattering things you ever said to me.

[sound away from piano]

Have you noticed this piece, here, in the living room?

[Stronger, dramatic piano]

I have very rare pieces here at home.

I see. I see.

[piano continues]

[more intense and dramatic music]

[clap]

This Narciso do Amaral is extraordinary, didn't you think so?

I had the impression that my soul dissipated for a moment in the music.

Lúcio…!

- I'll get your things. - It is not necessary.

I'm glad you protect me from the Count's advances.

I would have preferred Ricardo not to have told you anything.

He doesn't need to tell me for me to know.

What an exceptional night you gave us, Maestro.

- [Narciso do Amaral] I'm not the conductor. - I'm sorry.

- But I confirmed that you are an excellent pianist. - You do what you can.

And the sonata, exemplarily chosen.

To match the unusual beauty of the hostess.

Hostess? And who is the hostess?

Mrs. Marta, the wife of Ricardo de Loureiro.

I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about.

[unsettling instrumental music]

I have never written so much and so easily.

I envy you...

I haven't written a single line since I returned to Lisbon.

Rest, rest!

In great talents, inspiration is like contagious diseases,

always come back!

It is true that we need to be careful with some aspects of our health…

How has Lúcio been?

Why?

Do you think I'm not okay?

Do you think I'm sick?

My dear Lúcio!

You need to be careful with your nerves!

My dear.

[birds chirping]

You disappeared from Paris overnight, you know?

You invited me to go to an exhibition at the Grand Palais,

and suddenly…

… silence!

Your melancholy made me fear the worst.

Then I found out, through your message,

that you left for Lisbon,

and…

Finally, after a year of silence,

when I meet again in Lisbon,

your life changed like overnight.

You got married, imagine!

So Ricardo,

who has never shown any belief in love, much less marriage.

And yet,

I see you with a woman…

unique…

Extraordinary, indeed!

But not a word about such a meeting!

You never told me about your romance, never told me where she came from,

Where did you meet her, if she has a family…

You never talked about anything at all!

Not all of us have a family, memories, a past...

And for Marta to radiate light as she does, I must remain in the shadow.

But why, my dear? My question is exactly that!

If she is your wife...

- and forgive me if I offend you, Ricardo -

because if she is your woman,

It doesn't bother him that everyone looks at her,

that address her,

try to touch her?

Oh!

Drosophyllum lusitanicum!

[Ricardo] The dewy pine.

It's one of the rare Portuguese carnivorous plants, did you know?

It is extremely sensitive.

Same cultivation methods suited to other carnivorous plants

are lethal to this specimen.

Just one change at the root and they die.

But they are capable of attracting large insects with the liquid they secrete.

Males go crazy

with the brightness and color of these glands,

and they are eaten, very slowly.

The dewy pine is neither male nor female.

It's just sex.

How about your entrecôte? They say this sauce cures all diseases.

[Lúcio] That cures hunger, is confirmed. It's perfect!

Next time the waiter ignores you,

I will try to warn him about his lack of education.

Marta chose grouper.

I certainly didn't expect to be served an entrecôte accompaniment.

[Martha laughs]

Our Lúcio is always trying to defend me.

Well, it's late.

[put down the cutlery]

How so?

I have an unpostponable meeting with my editor. I thought I told you.

- No, Ricardo, you didn't tell me anything. - Don't be offended.

See you soon. You will be in for a surprise.

Thanks.

The crème brûlée is to die for, you have to try it.

[footsteps moving away]

I didn't realize they had taken away Ricardo's plate, did you?

No.

- Strange… - Are you telling me I'm weird?

You certainly are unique.

In fact, Ricardo's wife could only be unique.

Is that how you see me, Lúcio? "Ricardo's wife"?

Isn't that your public and…

… private condition?

And who told you we got married?

Why? Didn't you get married?

[festive and bright instrumental music]

Jealousy…

… is the poison of the weak.

And there's no reason for Ricardo to be jealous of us, right?

No…

Of course not.

- Are you nervous, Lúcio? - It's very hot in here.

Don't you think so?

Hot?

I think it's actually pretty cool.

[Ricardo off camera]For my friend Lúcio with a thousand hugs from all soul

from his Ricardo.

[Count Warginski] Choose a card.

- Any? - Any!

- That. - That!

Place wherever you want.

Like this?

Blow.

[Marta blows]

Your letter.

[Marta stifles an exclamation and then laughs]

Wonderful!

Magic.

- Magic! - So it is.

[unsettling instrumental music]

I already noticed that you can't take your eyes off her.

Nobody knows who she is, nor where she comes from,

nor where they met,

if they are a couple.

It's all a mystery, indeed.

The first time I saw them together was about a year ago,

when we made the Sud-Express journey, Paris-Lisbon.

They traveled on the same train.

But at the time I didn't have the opportunity to talk to them.

Did he bring her from Paris?

Good…

I never met her in Paris, I can guarantee you that.

I would remember!

In fact, he never told me the reason for his return to Lisbon...

But why would he come?

Crazy about Paris like him…

[Gervásio] Paris is on fire, my dear!

New exhibitions,

Cubo-futurist painters scandalizing the world…

Life is there, and it calls us.

Why don't we leave tomorrow?

I have the text of a play to finish.

Come on... Shouldn't that be close to the end by now?

- If only it were. - Hmm…

Sit there. So tell me.

Haven't you been with Ricardo de Loureiro?

Maybe he can help you.

I haven't visited him in over two weeks.

Oh man!

You look awful!

Cheer up.

You need to be distracted, There's something blocking it.

I sense a bitterness in you, a sadness.

Ricardo asked for you.

Tere will be a party tonight, Why don't you come by?

I appreciate your concern, but I really have to finish this piece.

Okay, I won't say anything more!

Hmm….

Drink!

[clock ticking]

Are you sure you don't want one?

They are creamier than the pralines at La Mère de Famille!

[Lúcio laughs]

I agree.

Does Marta know "La Mère de Famille" in Paris?

I know it very well.

In all the cities that Ricardo has been to, I have also been to.

Every place.

All.

Our Lúcio…

I was thinking that you would never come back.

You know this house is yours too, Lúcio.

You are too kind.

Between people who love each other, there are no pleasantries, only tenderness.

[Lúcio] So...

…you think you should change the tone of the third act, is that it?

Do you want to know?

I thought it was too festive, sunny.

That joy of the protagonist….

Forgive my frankness.

But you shouldn't lose sight of the title:

"The Flame"…

There's a key there, it seems to me.

But Lúcio is the author, not me.

As for your poem, "The Recreio"… Ah!

Remarkable.

I really like these verses:

[Recite] "In my soul there is a swing That's always swaying

Swing near a well

- Very difficult to ride…” - [Lúcio] "Very difficult to ride…"

I really appreciated…

Well and swing.

Together they give the necessary hallucination,

and everything inside the soul…

As you see, I read and memorize with delight.

[everyone laughs]

I leave you to the gods of dramaturgy.

[Lúcio] Are you going, Ricardo? So early?

It's not even ten o'clock.

You're not the only one wrestling with the muses of inspiration, you know...

I need to review the translation of the volume, "Diadema".

It will be published in French, didn't I tell you?

Delivery is soon.

My dear. Dear friend.

[footsteps moving away]

And us?

We continue with the life of fiction, or with the fiction of life?

I confess that I distinguish one from the other less and less.

[Marta] And my chest?

Does it seem real or imaginary?

[Eduardo Dantas] We need more blood.

More tears!

- [Lúcio] And more sweat, right? - [Eduardo Dantas] Absolutely!

More sweat!

We have or we don't have

two critical and public successes on our common CV?

Well…

He promised me "Vampires and Fado".

What is this?

I still understand the intrigue of the Hellenic philosopher

lost in love with the sultan's odalisque.

But the threat of a happy ending,

in which they both share the concubine

as reconciled brothers?

Where is the sense of tragedy you always exhibited?

I can see you didn't understand anything.

I know what I'm worth.

This sharing is precisely the darkest of epilogues.

But it's not commercial, Mr. Vaz.

It's not commercial!

[traffic noise and people on the street]

Good afternoon.

Artists!

[knock on the door]

[they insist]

Who is it?

[shoes fall to the floor]

[fluid, hypnotic instrumental music]

[Marta sighs with pleasure]

[Lúcio kisses her]

[Marta groans]

Who are you?

I am everything you ever wanted.

How can I want what I don't know?

You know me much better than you know.

[energetic and majestic baroque music]

[returns to previous fluid, hypnotic instrumental music]

[clock ticking]

[Ricardo] That's what it's like to sleep like a log, my dear!

I had an urgent poem to show you, forgive me.

I couldn't wait any longer.

Dear Lúcio...

Today I had a voracious night…

… inspiring!

[Ricardo recites] "I wanted to be a woman

So I can extend Next to my friends

At café banquets

I wanted to be a woman

So that they would be good to me These entanglements

That in a man Frankly

You can't apologize"

Thanks.

[birds chirping]

[Ricardo] Do you know when was the last time I saw you in such a good mood?

[Lúcio] I'm sure you'll tell me.

Sorry, Richard, it was a lapsus linguae.

I didn't... I didn't mean to call you...

[Ricardo] You don't need to get all hesitant about addressing me informally.

It's ridiculous, between us.

From now on, formal "you" is over.

[Lúcio] It's a great pleasure to see us like this. Together.

[Marta] Yes.

Together.

Do you know that this Tuesday I had the most bizarre hallucination?

It was afternoon.

About four in the afternoon.

It was raining a lot, I had just written my last verse,

I left the office, I went to the room

[voice-over] and, as I passed through the corridor,

I looked in the mirror,

by chance.

I looked at him and didn't see myself reflected in him.

The purest truth!

I saw everything that reflected me,

everything around me was projected in the mirror.

I just didn't see my image.

You can't imagine how suprised i was...

The mysterious feeling that ran through me.

I can't imagine.

[Ricardo] But you know what? It wasn't a feeling of dread. No.

It was a feeling of pride.

More Porto, Lúcio?

Yes, please.

Thanks.

[Lúcio] Marta…

Is your mother alive?

Why the interest?

Curiosity to know the origin of your grace,

of your intelligence.

And the origin of so much beauty, doesn't it intrigue you anymore?

[Lúcio] That's irrelevant to me.

Because I have no idea what you're talking about.

[Marta] Silly!

So happy.

As a punishment,

you have to kiss me willingly.

So be it.

What a clumsy kiss!

It seems impossible that you still don't know how to give a kiss.

Aren't you ashamed?

Go, Ricardo...

You teach him!

[dog barks in the background]

[Martha laughs]

[Marta laughs more heartily]

[instrumental music in a nocturnal and enigmatic tone]

[Lúcio pants]

[Martha laughs]

[Marta moans and laughs]

[Marta seems to suffocate]

I can't.

I feel like I'm betraying myself.

If I don't feel any guilt,

Why should you feel it? - I can't, Marta.

I can't.

[Marta] I think it's more important to

make the sentimental connection between two people I love

than discuss

about jealousy

or belonging.

[sound of fountain pen writing]

[clock ticking]

[restrained and introspective instrumental music]

[Lúcio sighs]

[cheerful, danceable instrumental music]

[Marta laughs, Count Warginski roars]

[muffled noise of wind or storm]

[Lúcio sighs]

[Eduardo Dantas] This climax in which the lovers annihilate each other

in an explosion of violence…

Now, yes, there is catharsis!

I'm glad you like it.

It's not your style at all.

[horse trotting and other street noises]

But also, what is style?

Style is for fashionistas, my dear! This is what theater is:

guts, emotions, spectacle!

- I did what you asked. - And you did very well.

[Eduardo Dantas] Now I'm sure it will be a success,

public and critical.

There's just one more question.

I need an advance.

How much do you need?

[Lúcio closes the door]

[the same fluid, hypnotic instrumental music]

[Marta] Shh…

[shoes fall to the floor]

- [Lúcio] Who did this to you? - There is?

Who did this to you?

- Was it Warginski? - It's nothing, forget it.

- It tells me. - It's nothing.

- Who was it? Was it Ricardo? - Lúcio…

Tell me.

Lúcio!

Lúcio! Lúcio, stop, stop, stop!

Stop, stop!

- Why? - Stop!

Why?

- Why do you torture me like that? - Enough.

[soft, introspective instrumental music]

[Marta narration] Eroticism with subtle but intense power.

[paper sound]

[accordion music for dancing]

Hey, hey, hey!

[Ricardo laughs]

[Ricardo] This Warginski is formidable!

Bravo!

Bravo! Bravo!

Bravo! If I may,

I would like the Count to favor me now,

with the reading of one of my poems!

It's just that a poem of mine read by you, Dear Warginski, it is…

It's a shine on a...

… screen with a golden frame, not just for the feeling,

but because of his Slavic accent,

which gives a unique touch to my poems.

[Warginski sniffs]

"A Certain Voice in the Night,

Redly",

a poem by Ricardo de Loureiro.

[recites] "Elusive spell

That voice

Opiated in sounds the color of amaranth

On nights of uncertainty

I remember I don't know where

The voice of a Princess

Dancing half naked Between sword flashes

Leo

She throws the purple flesh

And drunk with it

Breath of beauty

Touches the bare breasts

Discover the sex…

Pray

The spasm that shakes her In a copulated soul…

But I never saw her In vision

Only your voice

The fulcrum of my remembering

Like this

I don't want your flesh

The non-existent flesh…

It's just voice-over The astral dancer

And in that statue voice

Oh! In this total voice

It's just that I dream of disappearing

In vices of ivory..."

[clap]

[Ricardo and Marta laugh]

Bravo!

Do you know that this poem was chosen here by our dear Marta?

Ah, beautiful, beautiful choice.

- It was a first reading. - Mainly the last two verses:

"In that statue voice Oh! In that total voice!"

- I need a drink. - For sure.

[fluid and contemplative instrumental music]

[clock ticking]

It's curious...

how it remind me…

something I saw...

The skin.

Where, I can't say.

Anyway, are you sure this is what you want?

Hmm…

No, no, no, Lúcio, in the end. No.

No one leaves Paris of their own free will.

Your sister is sick, various expenses.

I insist.

I earn more today with these commissioned portraits

than I have already received for my sculptures.

That's it!

That's what this alabaster skin reminds me of.

The Saint-Croix retrospective. You are now passing through Lisbon, Lúcio!

You can't lose her.

[the same fluid and contemplative instrumental music]

[creaking wooden floor]

[housekeeper] You can't come in like this, Mr. Lúcio! Wait!

Doctor, I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him!

[Ricardo] Don't worry.

What did you do to me?

- What did you do to me? - But what happened, Lúcio?

I realized all your lies, your scheme!

- I saw the exhibition, you understand? - What exhibition? You're upset!

The Saint-Croix exhibition!

The one you invited me to see days before disappearing from Paris!

Calm down...

Is that where you got your diabolical idea?

- What are you talking about? - About Marta!

I'm talking about Marta!

Just like a Saint Croix sculpture!

You went there to get your inspiration, right?

How did you do that…?

You looked for a model,

a copy…

and gave wings to your… perversion?

- Stop it! - Tell me!

Tell me!

You ruined my life!

[both panting]

You didn't understand anything, Lúcio.

[Lúcio] I'm waiting for you to explain everything to me!

[Ricardo] Marta was your lover to bring us together.

To bring us together?

You have lost all decency.

Don't you remember the martyrdom of my life?

Have you forgotten?

I couldn't be friends with anyone,

I could not…

… experience affection.

And in the face of those who I sensed tenderness, I only had desires for...

… caresses, desires for possession.

I pretended not to understand.

I wanted to vibrate with your affection, pay you back, remember?

But it wasn't possible for me! Only if I kissed you, hugged you, possessed you...

Ricardo…

Stop it!

[Ricardo] But that afternoon, at the exhibition, I found it.

A dream.

And then I created her, yes… I created her!

It's as if Marta was my own soul.

What are you talking about? Stop it...

Since that afternoon I knew.

I created it!

I ordered her to be yours.

It was as if my soul had materialized.

Materialized…

…to possess your affection.

Marta is me!

Don't you believe me?

I smelled her.

Her touch on my flesh.

I need you to believe!

May you understand.

Come…

For your affection, I reveal all my secret.

[unsettling instrumental music]

I created it just for you.

Just for you.

[unlock the gun]

No!

[shot]

[gun falls to the floor]

[footsteps moving away]

[police in voiceover] Lúcio Vaz?

You are suspected of the murder of Ricardo de Loureiro.

Please follow us.

[sound of footsteps on the gravel]

Marta!

Marta!

Marta!

Marta!

Marta!

Marta!

- [stately instrumental music] - Marta!

Marta!

Marta!

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