All language subtitles for Amor idiota (2004) EN

My life's been one long,
fruitful journey towards idiocy.

As a teenager,
I realised I was an idiot.

Later, I discovered
I wasn't the only one.

Now that I'm pushing 35, I see
that not only is everyone an idiot

but that we'll never stop being so.

IDIOT LOVE

-He's always late. Cheers!
-Happy birthday!

Here he is.

You're late, Pere-Lluc.
The meal's served.

-I had a few gin and tonics.
-Right.

Godfather, this is for you.

For me? Thank you.

No champagne for me?

-I'll be back in a minute.
-Fine.

His prostrate.
He doesn't want it mentioning.

Listen...

My friends.

Just a minute.

Idiocy is like woodworm in old wood,
it rots us to the core.

At fifteen we're already
incurable idiots.

It's a mould which sets at that age.
You stay like that till you die.

That's why I haven't got kids.
And I don't think I'll ever have any.

I don't want to create
any more idiots.

Here, here!

Thank God.

Just a minute.

On this notable day in our work
calendar, I shall be carrying out

an act of atonement.

Just as Our Lord sacrificed his life
to save us all,

so will l, in the most public
and symbolically humiliating way,

offer up my dick.

After unzipping my fly,

I'm going to place my virile member
here,

alongside the meatballs and the meat,
like another sausage.

And with this fork,

which destiny has brought into play
before its time...

Don't do it.
You'll be maimed for life.

Stop it!

I'm sick and tired
of this show of childishness.

But let's not forget
I'm an idiot.

Give me that.
The joke's over.

If you don't mind...

What were you thinking of!

Why are you all so quiet?

I think I've wet myself.

After a lifetime of intense idiocy,
can you reach rock bottom?

Experience shows that no, you can
always be a bit more of an idiot.

My case proves that.
It's the only explanation

for the pathetic and immature
exhibition I've just starred in.

Barcelona, ancient and Olympic
Mediterranean capital.

Proud,
its indigenous inhabitants

claim that it lacks the character
of the big European metropolises.

But despite this, they don't leave.

Disorientated, it takes in foreigners
who deride it for being provincial.

They don't accept that it is as it is
and not as they'd like it to be.

But even so, they stay.

Barcelona is like an old lady
who was rejuvenated

by an Olympic face-lift

and who can't understand why
suddenly, every day is like Monday

or why they've suddenly taken back
her VIP pass for world history.

And in the middle
are the ones

who float like beggars' frozen turds
on the oily waters of the quay.

People trying to keep afloat.

Myself included.

A listener with a voice,
but no vote.

Pere-Lluc, it's Peyro.
Bad news, man.

Sorry to tell you like this,
but Nicco Zenone's dead.

I just arrived from Argentina and
found out. It happened in December.

Nicco, the great Nicco,

well-known for
his marvelous shows.

But to me, he was the best friend
I'd ever had.

An actor and theatre director,
a pure Argentinean.

It wasn't logic made me believe
you are perfection.

His job meant he travelled,
that's how we met.

He lived in San Telmo, Buenos Aires,
with his wife, Vera.

We made an effort
to keep our friendship alive,

we often phoned, but might not
see each other for months.

We'd spent the last ten years
meeting up at least once a year.

What I don't offload,
I end up swallowing.

Once, I spent three weeks
with them in Buenos Aires.

You know something?
Freedom is achieved by sharing it.

On his own, a man loses
his solidarity and humanity.

Two years ago, he came through
severe hepatitis...

I've never been afraid of dying,

but I almost shit myself
worrying about it a few times.

You're as unoriginal as the rest.

I could turn up at their place
uninvited, even if they were away.

The door was always
wide open to travellers.

His presence in my life was,
to put it like an idiot,

like a branch I could grab
to keep from falling off the edge.

Now that branch has broken.

Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Vera o Nicco Zenone.
Humberto l�.

Phoning his wife in the middle
of the night won't help me.

Luckily for us both,
I can't reach her.

I'm down and go to drink
to my deceased friend's health.

I can't stop thinking
about Nicco's death.

It's an attack of betrayal,
an enormous con.

Christ...

Are you hurt?

We can go to a chemist's.
That's a bad bump.

Well, sorry,
I have to get back to work.

Hi.

In the Gelida.

But don't be long, ok?
I'm tired.

We'll carry on tomorrow.
Three streets. Just three streets.

I work with my godfather.

He turned his old agency
into a school for business

and financial consultancy.

Obesity as a risk factor.
Let's see...

I was lucky to have him.
He took me on at my lowest point.

I had just given up teaching
and, as I was an idiot,

I hadn't made other plans.

I organise courses and conferences,
with quite satisfactory results.

... cancer of the colon, kidneys,
endometrium and oesophagus,

can be attributed equally to being
overweight or to lack of exercise.

A more active lifestyle is required

both physically and intellectually.

You don't look well.

-I'm not used to people I love dying.
-Pere-Lluc...

Human beings, like animals,
create affectionate ties.

Monkeys love and hate,
but they lack the ability to reflect.

-So?
-Nothing. You're messed up.

Even more than when your father died:
you were younger, and he was old.

You're older.
This guy was your age.

Savour his memory and help those
closest to him, they need it more.

If you were really friends,
that is...

Anyway, what's with the bump?

I walked into a ladder...

You're so thin-skinned.

I think something you took
during your hippy phase

has had a lasting effect on you.
See you.

My godfather made a fortune through
an intuition for the sign of the times

money.

I've got two friends,

Jordina Valldejol�,
my godfather's right-hand.

She got married, had a son,

got divorced and now,
lives with her kid.

We're very close. That's more
than many couples can say.

We made love once,
she was sad and lonely.

We hugged, and one thing
led to another.

She's in love with �lex Mallol,

my other friend and
third pillar of the company.

It's a secret love. He's laid back,
but not very sentimental.

He lives an apparently placid
married life.

�lex and I are old friends.

We shared a house
about 15 years ago.

He's as idiotic as I am,
but manages failure differently.

They often introduce me to girls.

I met my last girlfriend
thanks to Jordina.

It was my longest relationship:
eight and a half months.

It lasted because,
even if you're an idiot,

a salary makes idiocy
easier to take.

It was nothing!

I told you, anyone but Silvia.

She left, saying she couldn't be with
such an emotionally unstable person.

A while ago, I was sleeping
with a radical feminist

who was seeing
one of my best friends.

He had gone abroad to Mexico,
on a one-way ticket.

Penetration is forbidden, as are
passionate and/or French kisses.

Pardon?

It is an intolerable aggression
to my body,

besides,
I am in love with Xavi.

That's neither incompatible
nor contradictory.

You men are animals.

As long as our vaginas
are lubricated for penetration

and we shut our mouths
about and around your penises,

you don't want or need
anything else!

I never argued.
Deep down, I agreed with her.

That way we went to bed quicker,
which was what we both wanted.

I accepted making love to her
without penetration or kisses,

all the other immense possibilities
still remained open.

My love life has always been rocky.

My last stable relationship
was three years ago.

That's lovely...

In between, a few hard-won flings,
for appearances sake.

My habits are pretty normal,
in terms of quantity and quality.

It could be said I have
a tendency towards masturbation,

but nothing out of this world.

Nicco comes back to me,
as alive as me.

For five months,
I thought he was alive.

No premonitions,
no fucking telepathy.

The ring roads are ideal
to help you think.

I start doing laps,
like on a merry-go-round.

It's miraculous, you go forward
and end up back where you started.

I know how the first seafarers felt
when they proved the world was round.

Like a dog that lost the trail,
I catch the girl's scent again.

-Long live Bar�a!
-Long live Bar�a.

I saw you working a few days ago.
I might be interested in hiring you.

I even followed you a while
to see how you did it.

I didn't see you.

The girl and her husband own
the company, talk to them.

Right.

It's amazing how hard she works.

Especially considering she's
the boss. But she likes the work.

We compete some nights
and she always beats me.

I don't care either way.
But it's all I've got. Why else?

Know what I'd do with the bloody
banners if I won the lottery?

-Where is she, then?
-Having a coffee. She won't be long.

-Well, I'll get in touch tomorrow.
-She'll be back in five minutes.

No, it doesn't matter. It's late
and it's not that urgent.

-Long live Bar�a!
-Yeah.

I wish I knew what to say to you.

I wish I knew what to say to you.

A gin and tonic, please.

A gin and tonic for the lady,
please.

One of the most gratifying things
about being an idiot

is that you don't have to waste time
justifying your actions.

Sorry, have you been waiting long?

Come in.

Come in, come in.

I just had to pop out.

Right. How can I help you, sir?

Haven't we met before?

Yes, the other night,
I bumped into your ladder.

Of course. How's your head?

Better, it's much better.

And you're interested in
one of our services, sir?

I like this a lot. The 'sir' treatment
has got me wildly excited.

It's like living in a French
'nouvelle vague' film.

Sorry, but if I don't do this,
I'll forget. I'm stocktaking.

You should know that
we're the best in this line.

But...
There's always a but, isn't there?

My husband and I have agreed
not to put up banners

which go against our ideas.

And anyway, if it's urgent,
we can't do it right away.

No problem. I still don't know
what I'll be putting on the banners.

I don't quite get it. Don't you know
what you'll be advertising?

Exactly.

The town council only lets you put up
cultural or political banners...

Yes, of course.
I knew that.

I get it. You mean you don't know
how to write it or design it, right?

Exactly.

And meanwhile, you're comparing
the companies who offer this service.

-To save time, right?
-Yes.

Great, I'll show you the difference.

They'll all try to persuade you
canvas is best.

And they'd be right, it's tougher,
but it costs ten times more.

We work with a special plastic
imitation from Germany.

Same benefits,
more competitive price...

You've no idea what
you're advertising?

No... No.

No. This is a bit strange...

Yes, but don't worry. I just want
a price list and invoicing details.

That all depends.

On the material, quantities,
colours and the time of year...

I need to know if you have banners,
or if you want them printing too.

The price varies,
depending on the service.

I'm sure it'll be reasonable.

Well, if you still haven't got
a banner, we should wait.

I feel like a slug.

I wouldn't like her to cultivate
the idea that I'm an idiot.

She'll find out in time.

There's no rush.

I've reconsidered,
I'll give you all the work.

Imitation canvas banners.

Wonderful. It's a practical
and intelligent decision.

Just a minute, please.

Here you are. These are the prices
and a bank form.

Read it in your own time.
There's information on loans.

I doubt they'll give you one,
but there's no harm in trying.

If we all thought like that,
we'd be in trouble,

especially those of us
without a cent.

Don't worry, once you have the crux
of the message, the ideas will flow.

Sure.

-Hello.
-Pere-Lluc?

Vera?

Nicco had a severe heart attack.

He was sitting in his rocking chair,

naked, because it was summer
and no one could see him.

Nicco!

Nicco!

Nicco...

Nicco Zenone.

The uncertainty tortured me.

Not knowing if it had been
in my hands to save him

I wanted someone to come
and punish me,

punish me really hard...

Vera, promise me
you'll come and visit me.

It's a bit difficult at the moment.
We'll keep in touch. Ciao.

I've got to calm down
and forget Nicco.

I'll concentrate on the girl,
the banners, and the husband.

They're easy to find.
They won't get away.

Stress is an everyday problem
with many negative effects,

not only on mental health,
but also on physical health.

Gastrointestinal and cardiovascular
problems, headaches, flu...

I've prepared the course
conscientiously.

But it's hard to concentrate.

An unstressed worker is synonymous
of a productive worker.

I don't know why you want it
and I won't ask.

But when it comes to banks,
the outcome is never clear cut.

I'll be your guarantor but you'll
face the consequences alone.

Talking to the bank
is like asking for a subsidy

they want you to show them
everything.

Financially, you're butt-naked
in front of them.

They want your last four
tax returns.

They're not interested in the fifth.
Know why?

It's no longer valid.

They don't care if five years ago
you were a model citizen

or the century's biggest crook.

Banks are like God,
they ask for everything,

and in the end,
turn you down.

How much do you need?

Twelve thousand.

Fuck.

And now what?

It should be time to go home,
even idiocy has its limits.

But not mine.

After years of practice, it's huge,
gigantic, colossal, bulimic.

I'm pushing my luck too far.
That's enough.

What I've done
really turns me on.

Most disturbingly, the further
I go, the less regrets I have.

After years of lethargy, my life has
stopped being placid and confusing.

My idiocy, indomitable,
active, playful,

pushes me back to her house.

One, a hundred, a thousand,

a million times.

I'm excited, despite the thought
that even as a peeping tom

I'll never be anything special.

And that sooner or later,
I'm heading for disaster.

I enter a world of unknown
but real sensations,

created from the most naked
and penetrating reality

which gives form, substance
and meaning to existence.

It's as if I've pressed a button
and everything has speeded up.

One inconvenience of being an idiot
is a tendency to slow life down.

And if you let yourself go,
as I have over recent years,

you hit absolute rock bottom
without even realising it.

Maybe, at last,
I've found my way to atone.

To atone for the idiocy of reaching
35 with nothing to show for it.

Ours is a generation of idiots
who won't be mentioned anywhere.

A generational black hole.

Just spying on her,
I'll be atoning.

Just atoning, I'll spy on her.

I've been living a double life.

I've fallen in love.

And as I haven't the balls
to talk to her, I spy on her.

You're weird, really weird.

You ride the ring roads
like a fairground,

you get your cock out
in public,

and now you're stalking someone.

At least you could
take advantage of it.

And how should I do that,
wise guy?

You're just like John Merrick,
the elephant man.

You're a monster.

And you know what advantages
being a monster can have?

Beats me.

We normal lot think that people
who have been fucked up in life

by some physical disability,
are really the wise.

-Really?
-Yes.

We assume that they're above
any kind of meanness.

Even if they're bad, their hatred
is not only accepted and forgiven,

but considered a demonstration
of the greatness of their spirit.

The more fucked up they are,
the wiser you think they are.

-So what?
-So, put yourself in their place

and think of all the power they
could have over the rest of us.

You're an exaggerating, hypocritical,
cynical son of a bitch.

Think what you like, but it's true.
And you're just the same.

No. You're mixing up being weird
with being an idiot.

Know what? I'm going
to spy on her again tonight.

He always has grass on him.

For him, smoking is a way of
communicating

like talking on the telephone.

Sometimes, it's hard to tell
if he's sad or stoned.

One advantage of being an idiot is
you needn't justify your actions.

One disadvantage is that you pile up
mistakes more quickly.

As I gain confidence,
I become more and more daring.

Only an idiot would creep around
the house in this weather.

Each time I take fewer precautions.

It's obvious she's suspicious.

And she's so headstrong
that, with or without husband,

my spying days are numbered.

No! No!

No! Please!

Stop screaming, or I'll smash
your face against the floor.

Shut up.

That's right. Don't be afraid,

I won't hurt you. I'm no thief.

Look, I tell you what,
I'll let you go.

I'll go over to that corner,
calmly,

I'll sit down and I won't move.

Do you hear me?

You can do what you want:
tie me up, ring the police, whatever.

Do you understand?
Nod your head.

Good.

Now I'm going to let you go.

See?

There you go.

It's okay.
It's okay.

Take it easy.

I won't do anything.
I won't do anything.

Jesus!

Fuck!

Why don't you fucking
ring someone?

No! No! Please!

You've been watching the house,
haven't you?

Yes.

But why?
We've nothing valuable.

I'm not a thief.

-You're not?
-No.

What are you, then?

An inoffensive idiot.

How many times
have you spied on me?

Not many.

And what have you seen?

Nothing... you.

-Me?
-Yes.

I watch how you work,
how you tidy up,

how you're in control of your life,
you look happy...

You're off your head.
Happy? Fuck off.

Was the whole banner story a lie?

Yeah.

Just to talk to me?

Yeah.

You sad bastard.

I won't forgive you. Who the fuck
do you think you are?

If you want everyone to look at you,
find a bridge and jump off it.

-I don't want everyone to look at me.
-Of course, just me, right?

-Yeah.
-Let's see if I've got this right.

One night you walk into my ladder
and fall platonically in love with me.

-Is that it?
-More or less.

-Things aren't like that.
-What are they like, then?

Leave me alone.
I'm fucking sick of people like you.

No, no...

I never want to see you again!

It's for the best. Her inside
and me out, as it should be.

Unfortunately, I want to
see her again. And I will.

Relax, it's me.
I got in with your godfather's keys.

You are really done in.

You very nearly caught pneumonia.

-That's a bump and a half.
-It's nothing.

Stay in bed today.

I wouldn't be surprised
if you had anaemia.

You, with your degree,
a civil servant,

ex-schoolteacher and
business school lecturer,

what have you got yourself into?

Concentrated chicken consomm�
with an egg yolk and brandy...

-I don't want anything.
-Take it and go to sleep.

And don't get up,
you've got a temperature.

-I'm not hungry.
-All of it.

Pere-Lluc...

Pere-Lluc...

Pere-Lluc...

Nicco, Nicco...

-Relax, it's only me.
-I brought �lex to keep you company.

Thanks.

Maybe I've overdone the brandy,
but don't pull such a face.

It'll help you sleep.

It's good brandy,
it can do you no harm. Drink up.

What a bitch, that Jordina.

She got me drunk so that
she could fuck in peace.

And me next door,
a gooseberry, as they say.

Good luck to them.
Especially her, she'll need it.

I don't mind if you use my flat
to be with �lex,

but don't get me drunk.
There's no need.

Don't be angry.
I swear I didn't plan it.

I've waited so long for him
to decide. And finally...

Poor Pere-Lluc. You have to lift
your spirits or you'll be really ill.

Depression reduces
the body's defences.

Anaemia is a real traitor
and viruses are bastards.

-Sure you didn't fall off your bike?
-No, she hit me with a log.

Right, the girl that hit you
with her ladder.

-No, I walked into the ladder.
-Oh, come on...

Love hurts.

Apart from an idiot,
I'm a predictable psychopath.

Excuse me.
Listen to me for a minute...

Don't be afraid. Listen.

Bastard!
Are you following me again?

Or is it a chance meeting?

Yes and no. I saw you
on my way home and I stopped.

-I wanted to thank you.
-What are you on about?

Listen... It's the least I can do
after you were so generous.

You didn't report me.

Lying idiots
can be very convincing.

Well, the other day was the other day
and today is today.

Don't tempt fate.

My husband's on his way
to pick me up.

He knows.
If he sees you, he'll kill you.

I'm sure he will.

Forget me!

Excuse me. Could you give
this card to that girl over there?

I want you to see
that I'm not afraid of you.

I'm not a bit afraid of you.

Watch it. This place is full.

They'd be over you in seconds

and I may use the distraction
to gouge out your eye.

-It needn't be so complicated.
-Of course, I forgot.

You'd offer up the eye yourself,
wouldn't you?

Yes.

"Pere-Lluc Solans".
Why are you giving this to me?

-To show you you've got me hooked.
-I don't want you at all!

-It could be false.
-Yeah, but it isn't.

It isn't.

It wasn't a lie, about
working in a business school.

I've never met anyone like you.

I am waiting for my husband.

We work nights and sometimes
it's hard finishing at the same time.

Nothing to say?

-Aren't you afraid of meeting him?
-Yes, a lot.

No one likes being punched,
but...

It'd be fair compensation.

-Do you want to cause a scene?
-No. Let me be with you a while.

Without talking, if you want.
You can even hit me again.

Fuck...

You'll do to kill time.

You're a clown,
you'll amuse me for a while.

You're a dangerous drunk. Do you
always play for all or nothing?

No, never.
It's more the opposite.

It's strange

how easy it is to do something
that seemed crazy.

When people are lonely, they go
to the cinema, the theatre or a bar.

They don't stalk people.

What did you see
while you spied on me?

I saw you sunbathing,

preparing dinner,
doing your nails...

-Nothing else?
-Nothing.

-You just want to see naked women.
-It wasn't like that.

I have never even
hurt a fly in my life.

You made me show
my nastiest side,

today and the other day.

I'll never forgive you.
Asshole.

She's angry.

She's like an angry cartoon character
surrounded by lightening.

I tremble with excitement and
I don't want her to notice.

What's up? I'm off too.
My husband's away today.

-How will you get home?
-What's it to you?

Taxi!

I've always let fate
organise my life.

I've let myself drift with the tide.

My internal contradictions
come happily to the surface.

That magnifies the main component
of my personality:

idiocy.

Right now, however,
fate is going in the same direction.

The sleepy tide of life is
carrying me towards this girl.

I'd need nerves of steel
to stop myself.

Are you bringing it?

Know what? Forget it.
I'm in a rush. Bye.

So I make myself comfortable,
floating on the sea like driftwood.

You close your eyes and ten minutes
later you open them

to check where the tide
has taken you.

It's always night and
I'm parking my bike near her van.

As easy as that.

Soon, she relaxes.
Curiosity gets the better of her.

Don't you like insecure people?

It's not that. In fact,
there's insecurity everywhere.

Some days, I'm not sure
I'll find myself in the mirror.

No one sees themselves
as they really are.

We see what we'd like to be,
not what we are.

-Really?
-Of course.

If not, we wouldn't have the patience
to put up with ourselves.

I don't think she has
many friends.

Or those she has,
aren't much use to her.

When she talks to me, it often
seems like she's talking to herself.

The main difference between
living together or not

is that when you pull someone,
they undress you.

When you live with someone,
you get undressed and wait.

It happens with all couples.

People in love always
end up looking like fools.

There are plenty of opportunities
to look a fool in 24 hours.

If you're going to do it,
it might as well be for love.

That's good to know.

When was the last time
you were a fool for love?

I've got to go.
My husband's here.

Well, then. Good luck.

And don't brood so much.
Your shout, right?

I guess she no longer
wants to gouge out my eyes.

Thanks.

Thirty-two...

Thirty two banners
with wooden cleats.

Each lamppost has...

-Baby!
-Hi.

-Tired?
-My back hurts from climbing ladders.

I can't find this street.
It must be an old map.

I'm a suicidal idiot
and this girl,

apart from being blond,
lovely, headstrong and sexy,

is a bit of a tart.

Who cares? I'm starting
to be happy with my addiction.

I'm going for lunch.

-I'm very angry with you.
-Why?

You haven't asked about me and �lex.
You're so self-centred.

I'll ask you now then.
I was just being discreet.

That's a lie, but never mind.

-How's it going?
-I can't talk about it yet.

Well, then?

It doesn't mean that I don't like
someone worrying about me.

-Shall we go?
-Yes.

You'll never understand anything!

Jordina's tense. Does your wife
know you're doing her?

No.

-Are you going to tell her?
-No.

Are you going to tell Jordina that?

No.

-Do you love Jordina?
-Yes... No. I don't know.

-She's mad about you.
-Yes.

Why don't you let yourself go,
then?

I know the procedure by heart.
I can't be bothered.

You can't understand,
you've no experience.

-Thanks.
-I'm sceptical, I scorn our times.

And seeing the immorality of our time,
all I can say is "Ha, ha, ha".

-"Ha, ha, ha"?
-Yes. A resounding guffaw.

I only reach the bottom of things
if I pass them through my scepticism.

-Can you define scepticism?
-No.

It's an attitude defined by
a systematic tendency

to doubt everything
that others consider good.

And what do I find?

You turn up in love
and demand I behave like you.

Please, don't insult my intelligence.

Only baboons base their life on love,
it's ephemeral.

As a concept of a vital force,
it's weak, boring and reactionary.

We're not Americans,
in love with love.

My friend sometimes reflects me.
I look at him and see myself.

Americans are kids,
they fall in love and marry.

And at the first hurdle,
they get divorced.

Why? Because, in love, you just need
to like each other and be charming.

To be happily married, you must put up
with each other's defects sportingly.

-Stoically.
-Yes. What does love consist of?

A dialectic of friends and enemies,
identity and disagreement.

A battle between similar people who
are different. That's why you suffer.

-I don't mind suffering.
-I do.

I don't want to risk any more.
Jordina realises that and gets sad.

I put up with his speeches.

His dream is a society where he can
plant a football field of marijuana.

Do you know what the soul is like?

It is the shape, colour and substance
of Palamos prawns. I'll prove it.

The world's like fish stock, right?

Yeah, prawns make good stock.
It's soul juice.

You blow me away.

Statements about the meaning of life
are attractive, they make you dizzy.

And, according to you,
what shape is love?

Mussel-shaped?

Love is nothing.
It doesn't exist.

It's an invention of the rich
the poor couldn't contemplate.

The poor have no individuality.
Collectives don't fall in love.

-Well, I'm poor and in love.
-You? Poor?

You're just a poor schmuck

who needs to feel love
is giving his life meaning.

You never did well with girls.
And now it's too late.

-You're weird, mate.
-What about you?

Just because I'm an idiot doesn't
mean you can say what you want!

Calm down.
Take it easy, man.

I've got to go.

By the way, thanks
for lending us your place.

I've made a copy of the key.

Mr. Solans, could you call
by the office?

We'd like to talk
about the banners. Thanks.

Shit.

You were quick...

You were wondering
why I let you touch me.

Don't get your hopes up,
I didn't want trouble.

Thanks.

Don't be cynical.
I've got used to you.

You help keep away the drunks.

You're not very well built,
but you deter them.

I used to get really bored
waiting for my husband.

Hello?

What's up?

As you wish.

Okay. See you later.

My husband doesn't know
when they'll be back.

I'm to make my own way home.

If you want, I'll take you home.
I've no plans.

What? Take me home?
I haven't got a helmet.

No problem.
I'll get one from home.

I'll be back in ten minutes.

Jordina...

What's up?

-Is something wrong?
-No.

-I need a favour.
-What?

-Can I borrow your car?
-Yeah.

There you go.

-I won't be back before you go.
-Don't worry. We'll get a cab.

-Sure?
-Yes.

My husband isn't back until late,

we could go out to dinner,
if you want.

I'll lift your sentence
for a few hours.

I'll get him to pick me up later.

To the banners!

To the banners!

I've been married three years.

I came here with nothing,
now I've got a cat,

to keep the mice away,
and a little rabbit.

My house is cold and damp.
We spend a lot on heating.

The doors don't shut and the heat
escapes. The log fire's great though.

-My neighbours think I'm paranoid.
-Yeah? I'm not surprised.

I want to replace the hall windows
in the whole building with white PVC.

It's impossible.
I always lose the vote.

You know nothing about me.

What I do know
is more than enough.

You're right.
It's not the greatest track record.

My man treats me
like a princess

and the company is...

the culmination of a dream
of professional independence.

Know what gets me most
about him?

He annoys me, and doesn't know why.
That annoys me even more.

-I hardly ever argue.
-You don't?

No, because if it's not important,
I let the other side win.

And if it's vital,
they won't back down.

-So there's no point arguing.
-You're right.

Well, you're quite a philosopher.

A stalker, a spy...

and a philosopher.

I look at her
and my mouth waters.

It's complicated. I feel like
the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.

I'm really sick.

Did you see how they stared at me?
I was going to...

I kiss her in two stages,
first sweet,

then rough
and deep in her mouth.

It's exhibitionistic, immature,
ostentatious

and annoying, given that
we aren't a couple of kids.

Joined at the mouth,
we breathe through our noses.

After two and a half cyanotic
minutes, we break off.

You're not a poet, are you?

No.

Good. I like the taste of your mouth,
but poetry dampens my libido.

A kiss doesn't mean anything.

Thank you.

I...
I haven't any condoms.

I have.

Mentally, I chant a spell so my
poetic prose won't dampen her libido.

Earthquakes, typhoons,
floods, catastrophes,

calamities, cataclysms, hecatombs
or simple entanglements.

Let them come and catch me
in the act!

Let them take me and bring me,
like the sea.

Let them turn my insides out
and my outsides in.

Let them turn me inside out
like a sock.

Let them come,
I'm ready!

What?

I'm going through a rough patch.
Don't take advantage.

I've wanted to be with you
for days.

I knew it would happen,
sooner or later.

But I'd never have made
the first move.

The young lady paid. She left
in a taxi ten minutes ago.

-Thank you.
-You're welcome.

The first stage of my crucifixion
was spying on her.

The second, approaching her and
believing she'd speak to me.

The third, meeting her at work,
knowing she's waiting for me.

Because now she tells me
where she'll be and at what time.

She doesn't slap me anymore.
We don't argue, or even talk.

Now, we fuck.

It's the most idiotic crucifixion in
history. It's the anti-crucifixion.

Circumstantial love in a lair,
as if it was the last day on earth.

Like a couple of homeless tramps,
we use any place we can.

You can't explain a contrast
of feelings like this.

It's caused by the intimate
mixture of pleasure and fear.

Or pleasure,
and the difficulty getting it.

Or simply pleasure
surrounded by dirt and cold.

Maybe she's afraid too,

of ending up immersed
in an existential inertia,

neither alive or dead.

Not living in the present,
the past,

or the future.

Sustained by our idiocy,
in a continual unconsciousness

drooling and gelatinous,
and with a fixed sell-by date.

Whenever I try to talk,
she shuts me up.

She makes love to me
with a sense of tragedy.

She came into my life
so detached, so affectionate...

I can't understand it.
I'm just an idiot.

The sooner she realises, the better.

A flash goes through my brain.

Nothing shows she thinks of me for
even part of the time I think of her.

I know this can't last forever.

It's a feeling of being
sucked in.

The same old impulse,
pushing me towards trouble.

Our sex is ugly, dirty,
messy, wretched.

-Yes?
-I received a call.

It must've been my wife.
She won't be long.

You can't wait here,
I have to shut.

Don't worry. I'll come back
another time.

If you decide what you want to
advertise, we'll be happy to help.

Even if we don't agree
1 00% with the message.

-Hi. Have you been waiting long?
-No.

You don't look well.

I didn't sleep very well.

My husband will be out all day.

Do you like it?
I've an important business lunch.

This way,
they take me seriously

and don't treat me like my husband's
secretary, which drives me insane...

I've always been faithful
to my husband

until now.

But I feel good with you.

I've only got a bit of a past,
hardly any future

and not much of a present.

I'll have to get another suit.

If you want to carry on making love
in secret, I'll do it. Wherever.

What do you think of fate?

Do you mean because of us?
You think it's a stroke of luck?

Why not?

Thinking of fate turns you on,
you find it romantic.

But not me.

It's the result that matters to me.
Fate doesn't exist.

We've only got a partial view
of one aspect of life.

We think that something is fate
when, in fact,

a unifying thread could exist which,
if we pull it,

will show a relationship
of cause and effect.

Oh, come on!

So, my bumping into the ladder
was inevitable.

Not inevitable, but possible yes,
and even probable.

Fate only exists in novels,
full of accidental meetings.

-Like ours.
-No. Ours wasn't accidental.

You were spying on me.
That led us to where we are now.

Where does fate come in?
You're just a romantic.

Yes. I am.

This is what there is, just this.

We idiots have ultra-sensitive ears.

I feel like crying with gratitude.

Farmacur have invited me
for cocktails this evening.

We can go together, if you like.
I'm a free woman today.

Great.

What's your name?

Sandra.

Pere-Lluc, are you there?

I'm going to close the flat
in San Telmo.

It's ages since I've lived there.

I've kept it for six months
in memory of Nicco.

I wanted to give some of his personal
things to his friends as souvenirs.

-Thanks for coming.
-Thanks for the invite.

I'll get some drinks.

Hi, two please.

-Thanks.
-Who's that?

The inventor of the Cadibloop,
the multi-use spongy chair.

Usefulness or aesthetics?

For me, here, at the beginning
of the 21st century,

the dilemma simply doesn't exist.

A watering can is as useful
as a teapot,

but we associate positive feelings
with a teapot: warmth, well-being...

and neutral feelings
with a watering can.

And the result? We design nice
teapots, of noble materials,

while the poor watering can
is stuck with tin or plastic!

I love you and I want to
have children with you.

What will we do now?

We could go to mine, but some friends
are there. I'll explain some time.

Get in.

-Pere-Lluc.
-What?

Perhaps we should leave it
for a while.

What do you mean?

Can she finish it,
just like that?

What has changed?

I don't know.
I'm an idiot.

Get out. You can call a cab.

Pere-Lluc.

I'm going home.

Please, don't ask any questions.
And don't look for me.

Don't call me. I'll call you.

I'll call you, I promise.
Do you hear?

Five sentences. Five punches.
Shit.

Maybe it's all over.

Maybe we won't even be able
to make love quickly, in secret.

She said I should wait,
that she'd call me.

And docile, I obey.

But a month's gone by
without a sign.

Thank God for friends. I explained
what happened with Sandra.

They try and distract me, to make
the waiting easier. Great.

Whenever I think of a situation,
it's always 15 years ago. Why?

Maybe because we've done
no good. Look at me.

-Oh, come on!
-Yes, but 15 years have gone by.

What have we done
in all these years?

We talk about 15 years ago

when our idiocy had given us
metaphysical worries.

Everyone claimed they'd heard
EVP voices.

Or we'd attempt astral projection.

We wanted to leave our bodies
in unknown directions.

We'd hold hands and concentrate.

Our favourite destinations
were impossible to check: India,

Greenland, even Ganymede.

-Once... Remember, �lex?
-Yeah.

A girl assured us that she had
projected herself to her home town.

She said she's seen her father
run over a dog.

I can claim to be the inventor
of the Catalan astral journey.

-Yeah? And what's it like?
-Hey, I'm serious.

It involves leaving your body,
but not going too far.

I'd concentrate and start to levitate,
but it was no good.

However hard I tried,
I never got past the ceiling.

He'd get stuck
next to the light fitting.

I never even made it
to the flat above.

The first case in the history
of psychedelia

of chicken-like astral flight.

-Did you want to fly too, �lex?
-I can't remember.

I smoked a lot then.

-But now, not even smoking...
-What do you mean?

We can't hide from reality,
even by smoking.

Human life is worth less
than a dog turd.

Is it so worthless?

I look at mine and
I see such a meagre thing.

I thought it illogical
that the days went by like this.

This couldn't be life.

I thought one day,
something would give it meaning.

When I realised nothing might happen
in a whole lifetime, I got scared.

Then I had my kid. And now, the
question is of no interest at all.

It's stuck.

Sometimes, it turns itself
on and off.

-lf you brake hard, it starts again.
-How do you stop it?

It stops when it feels like it.

Sometimes, I say to my son, "Let's go
to the motorway to hear the CD."

He loves it.

We clean our teeth
and our adventure starts.

We have to take care
to avoid incidents.

Our trip will begin
when we start to read.

A book is the best luggage...

for travelling at night.

May our dreams come true.

Good night.

I really miss Sandra.

Fucking messages.

And docile, I obey.

Until I behave like a bastard.

-Shall we have dinner?
-Yes.

Helena?

I can only maintain my erection
by thinking it's Sandra on top of me.

It's unfair. She's playing clean.
She's taken a risk, I haven't.

The opposite, more like.

I thought of the girl I love
in order to come.

I've been a bastard.

That's not very subtle,
when we just made love.

I suppose not.
That's why I had to tell you.

I know why
I wanted to be with you.

My kids are grown up.

I work in Brussels and hadn't been
back to Barcelona for 8 years.

I left a whole life here.

When I return, I feel Lonely.
I have no one here.

Or I might as well not have.
I'm not interested.

I need intimate affection.
I thought you could give me it.

At my age, I'm not afraid
of risks. What about you?

-Why did you come with me?
-Why not?

I can be in love with Sandra
and feel free to be with you.

I've been waiting for her to call
for weeks.

I don't think she ever will.

She told me not to call
or try to find her.

-She'd call me.
-How long ago was that?

-A month ago.
-And what do you want?

To take her away with me.

If she hasn't rung in a month,
it's one of two things:

either she doesn't want
to see you,

or she wants you to go
and get her.

She won't call.

Don't go so soon.

Whatever you've got to do
can wait.

I'm leaving tomorrow,
I won't harass you.

We may not see each other again.
Stay a while longer.

-I can't.
-Please.

Let's just have one more drink.
Just one more.

I can't.

Go fuck yourself,
you bastard!

And I'd do it, if someone
would show me how.

There's something I should
have done months ago.

I don't get it.
I just left a fantastic woman.

I'm aware I've got to sort out
my situation with Sandra.

I'm dying, I'm dying...

I'm dying, I'm dying...

I'm dying

I'm dying to get out of here.

What I do is go to Argentina

chasing Nicco.

Vera stayed at the start,
but then she left.

It's understandable.

She comes now and again,
but not regularly.

I didn't know Nicco had died.
I'd have come for the funeral.

They took him to Chacarita,
it's far, but easy to find.

You can take the subway. Do you
know how to get hold of Vera?

What a shame she's not here.
She left for London not long ago.

Now I've found him,
I'm lost for words.

Nicco doesn't leave me with feelings
of tragedy or pain.

He gives me a feeling
of calmness and affection.

He made me feel
less of an idiot.

I leave.
Calm and at peace.

Now I know why I came
to say goodbye.

It's been a simple shortcut
to arrive where I wanted.

Hi, it's me.

Hi.

-Do you mind me calling you?
-No. Is something wrong?

No.

-Where are you?
-Buenos Aires.

On holiday?

No, I'm saying goodbye
to my friend.

-Are you okay?
-Yeah.

Do you feel better now?

Yeah.

When are you coming back?

Tonight or tomorrow,
it depends on the connections.

-Are you sure you're okay?
-Sure.

My friend left me some marbles.

-Can you hear them?
-Yes.

-I'd say that's a good inheritance.
-Me too.

-Hi, it's me.
-Hi, where are you now?

-I'm at the airport.
-To come to Barcelona?

-No, to Madrid. Can we talk?
-My husband's coming in 3 minutes.

We've got two. You'll have
one left to wait for him.

Sandra, Sandra...

-It's me again.
-Hi.

-So you're there already.
-I had to check some figures.

-And your husband?
-He's been and gone.

I'm in...
I'm...

Go on...
I'm at Madrid airport.

-I got a card so it won't get cut off.
-Good.

Thanks for ringing.
What time do you get in?

Around nine. Why?

-Sandra...
-What?

-Maybe I'll ring you again.
-Okay. Have a good trip.

See you.

Yes, a month will be long enough.
Yes.

Excuse me.

You look tired.

Yeah. It was a long trip.

Do you want an aspirin?

I'll get one. I won't be long.

You're not there?
An answerphone?

You hung up on me
in mid-sentence...

Well, you've seen the last of me!

I've got to go out in the van.
Why don't you come with me?

Okay.

Wait. I'll drive.

Fine.

I think I've just kidnapped you.

It goes against my principles,
but it's a special case,

an exception to the rule.

What are you thinking about?

Nothing important.

The day I caught you spying,
you said some inexact things.

I want no misunderstandings.

I'm not so in control,
nor am I especially happy.

No more than many others.

Do you understand?

I understand.

-Stop.
-What?

-Stop.
-Here?

Yeah.

My life and I are parallel lines
on opposite sides of the street.

I'm incapable of crossing
to the other side.

If parallel lines can only meet
in infinity, I don't care for them.

Idiots don't have access.

The nearer the future comes,
the more I feel pushed towards it.

I know I can't offer her
any guarantees,

Love begins and ends, always.

And hope,
all the hope in the world

is just smoke, just smoke.

My life's been one long,
fruitful journey towards idiocy.

Like woodworm in old wood,
burrowing a path to the very end.

Time passes
and we don't change.

Experience doesn't make us wiser,
just older.

Love, in all its absurdity,

lets us be tempted
by a bubble of optimism.

Pere-Lluc!

I'm afflicted and eager,

giving and grateful,

starving, like a dog.

It's over.

Let's go.

We idiots can only have faith,
hope and charity.

And a little love
because it's free.

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