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Elisal... What's happened?

Why have you left? Where are you?

Please, don't do this to me.

Come on, “bambina', come back..

I'm worried... Please, Elisa...

She didn't suffer.

They gave her morphine.

She knew. She was ready.

Elisa! please... Don't do that!

You shouldn't do that...

Why didn't you warn me?

She didn't want me to.

She told me not to.

She didn't want you to see her like this.

I called you at Rome.

No one answered.

I left you a message.

I left three days ago.

Five!

Luca called me.

He didn't know where you were...

Where were you?

Did you tell him about my mother?

No, I didn't say anything.

What's happened between you two?

Have you fallen out?

Aren't you going to answer? It might be him...

Don't you want an empanada?

I made them yesterday.

You used to love them...

I'm not hungry.

Go ahead, Pilar. Help yourself.

No.

They were for her.

Did she speak of me?

She hardly said a word.

Practically nothing in the last month.

But you never called either.

You could at least have, I don't know,

sent her a postcard from time to time...

I spent my whole life waiting for postcards from her

in those schools she left me in.

I got them every ten years.

One for every birthday.

She would even get the date wrong.

At the end, she couldn't bear anyone near her.

I'had to move into your room.

When I found her this morning, she had her eyes closed,

and her hands crossed over her chest, like they are now.

She wanted me to throw everything out.

The prints, the negatives, everything...

She said it every day.

She wanted me to sell the material, get rid of everything.

Even my photos.

But I didn't.

'Abel. Summer '73. Saint-Aubin.”

'Me and Sérgio. And Abel. Summer '73. Saint-Aubin.

Uriel in the background.

Photographer: Martim'

'Abel. September 73. Rua Galande.

Morning after the first night'.

'He'll be arriving soon,

I can already see Spain through the window.

If I don't get there in time for the birth...”

“If I don't get there in time for the birth

show her my photo, ok?

The one you took on the beach, last summer.

The man's arrived. [ love you. Abel”

“17/02/74”

BODY FISHED OUT OF THE SEA BY BORDER GUARDS

Yes?

Thank God, I've been looking everywhere for you...

Oh, it's you.

Where on earth are you?

In Paris.

In Paris?!

But Pilar... have you seen your mother?

Elisal... Are you there?

Can you hear me? Hello?

She's dead, Luca. My mother's dead.

Why didn't she love me?

You believe she didn't love you?

She never took photos of me.

She hadn't photographed anyone in years.

I would've given anything not to look so much like her.

Every time I see her self-portrait in the studio,

I can see me, pregnant with myself.

It's horrible.

What about him? What was he like?

I didn't see much of him.

Always with her or with the others.

He was the only worker in the group.

Not very talkative.

What was he like...?

Like 2 political refugee.

That was quite common back then.

The sort that wanted to change the world.

Not really my type.

I was already too old for that sort of stuff.

I didn't really go in for it, in any case.

You know, at the time,

there was a colonial war going on down there,

more or less like the one we had in Algeria before...

One day they decided to go back to Portugal.

They wanted to occupy a radio station or sabotage an air base,

or both of those things, I've forgotten...

They were arrested right away.

The one I saw most was him...

Sérgio?

Yes, Sérgio.

He was the only one that was my student, and the only one I ever saw again.

You saw him again? When?

Five or six years ago.

He wanted to see Elsa.

I called her but she refused.

- What about him? - He tried once or twice more.

He wanted to see you...

[ think he believed that he was your father.

Him? No.

Why? Could he have been?

He was the first one she went out with.

They were all in love with her.

And she was with them, in her way.

You never asked her?

Why should I?

She would've told me if she'd wanted to.

There was no reason to ask.

I think I preferred not to know.

What do you want me to say?

That I feel guilty?

I've told you, I don't!

I did what she asked.

I would've done whatever she wanted me to.

And if I had to do it all over again, I'would...

I'm not talking about her I'm talking about me.

You lied to me.

You deceived me.

Maybe outwardly, but not deep down.

I really felt as if I was your father. From the beginning, from the first day

I was present at your birth!

I raised you. It was as if I was.

Personally, I never agreed.

I always thought she should have told you the truth.

You could have told me yourself.

Do you think I had that right?

Against her will?

I didn't think I had.

And I still think I don't.

But, for Christ's sake, what difference does it make?

For you, what difference does it make?

I don't know yet.

But it should matter, don't you think?

I don't know... I feel like a question mark...

But who doesn't?

Frankly, I've never understood this furious need for kin.

Biological father, genes, blood, all that stuff.

With so many test tube babies wandering about,

what bloody significance could all that still have?

“Blood of my blood! Flesh of my flesh!”

It's like we're talking about a slaughterhouse, for Christ's sake!

If I could have swapped my father I wouldn't have hesitated for one second.

There was a time I would've paid to do it.

It's just that no one ever asked me for my opinion...

Tom! Bath? Shall I run it for you?

No. Later. Thank you, Maria.

The home help.

Does she always dress like that?

When she sleeps here...

She sleeps here...

Sometimes.

Thank you, Maria, thank you.

That was Luca, I'll phone him later.

Your Italian? Has he come too?

No.

No?

He wants to marry me.

And?

I don't know. I'm not sure I want to.

Before he proposed, I'd never even thought about it.

Sérgio left me his card, last time.

He wanted me to give it to Elsa...

She wouldn't even touch it

It should be around somewhere...

Did you keep it?

I kept everything, as you can see...

Can I have it?

If1 find it.

Shortly after they left, she disappeared.

Not for long, two or three weeks at most...

I always thought she'd gone there too.

Why? What for?

I've no idea.

She never told me anything about it.

And she never spoke of them again.

It was as if they'd never existed.

AllT know is that when the military took over

two or three months later. .. perhaps a little less...

the agency wanted to send her there, and she refused.

As far as I know, she never set foot there again.

Maybe he'd moved house... Everyone moves.

You don't

But you do.

How long have you lived with him?

With Luca? For seven years.

It's crazy! Before he mentioned it, I had never counted on getting married.

Now it seems a lifetime.

It's late.

Are you thinking of going there?

Do you think I shouldn't?

If I say yes, you'll think I'm jealous.

But in fact it's just that it'd be convenient to have you here...

I've still got piles of papers to burn.

But what's made you want to deal with all this now?

I don't want to leave any dirty linen behind.

At my age, you should always make sure you've got clean underwear.

One never knows...

What? Are you thinking about death?

No.

Butit's not impossible that death is thinking about me.

Yes, Luca.

Elisa, finally!

Why aren't you answering the phone, for God's sake?

I've left at least ten messages.

I've must've called millions of times over these two days...

Luca, please...

Sorry... You're right. Sorry.

I've not forgotten what's happened, but I'm worried.

Listen. I've decided to join you.

- No, Luca... - Yes, Elisa!

- No! - Yes!

[ Can't leave you alone at a time like this...

But I need to be alone right now!

[ Don't believe it

It doesn't make sense...

I'm arriving tomorrow at Orly. I've booked the flight.

- Cancel it. - Elisa'

I don't want you to come, Luca. I don't want that, do you understand?

Is it the marriage?

No... Yes... Partly.

That's all.

Has something happened?

Someone else, I mean?

Luca...

Sorry. If it had, you'd tell me.

You'd tell me, wouldn't you?

Never mind. I'm being stupid. Sorry.

Stop this, Luca... Stop apologising.

You're right. It's ridiculous. What if I withdrew my proposal?

Luca...

Yes, Elisa?

I need time. Give me time, all right?

All right I understand. You need time, OK.

But... how much time? More or less...?

I don't know, Luca.

I can't say. I don't know.

I'll wait. I'll wait as long as it takes.

And I won't talk about marriage any more, I promise.

Caramba, what a stupid idea, eh!

You really don't want me to come?

Sorry, you don't want it, you've already said.

But call me, OK?

Or at least answer the phone, all right?

All right.

- Elisa? -Yes, Luca.

I love you. Really.

"Elsa. France. 1973."

I was waiting for you all night, bitch.

Where have you been, harlot?

Who have you been fucking now?

Fuck, Daisy!... What the...?!

Shit! I don't believe it!

It's not impossible!

I'm not Daisy.

Of course not.

Sorry, I thought YOU Were someone else...

Are you her daughter.

Daisy's daughter?!

No, what an idea!

Wait...

Her daughter.

Yes... I'm her daughter.

That's incredible!

You look exactly like her.

I know.

Take it easy.

It was a misunderstanding, OK?

Like that, from the back, I thought you were Daisy.

I won't start again.

I'm David, Sérgio's son.

You don't look like him.

That would be all I needed.

Is he here?

- Who? - Sérgio.

Are you serious?

Sérgio's dead. It was almost two years ago.

SERIOUS PLANE CRASH AT BUSSACO

Victims include the Secretary of State for Tourism

Mother...

Aren't you ready yet?

You said eleven and it's half past.

Half eleven already? You're right. Sorry.

Inés, my mother. It's her daughter...

I've realised.

I didn't need a crystal ball.

She's the image of her...

Are you on holiday here?

No... Not really...

You're very like her. A lot.

Did you know her?

No, I never saw her.

I'm not from that time.

I've seen photos.

Maybe we should do this another day.

This house depresses me. Goodbye.

Mother!

Mother, wait a second!

Mother!

Mother, where are your manners?

Where are you going?

Mother, wait.

What does she want?

I've no idea.

None. What do you expect?

Her mother's dead...

I know. I keep up with things. And I read the papers.

I don't want her in my house.

But what would she do in your house?

I don't know and I don't care! I just don't want her in my place.

All right. Don't get angry.

I'll phone you tomorrow.

Was she in Paris too?

No. She had nothing to do with it. She was too young at that time.

She met Sérgio later.

You didn't tell me your name...

Elisa. I'm hungry.

“Seventy-four”

That's the year I was born.

You can't tell at all.

But what does that prove?

He might have wanted to be present at the birth, even without being your father.

It's possible...

In any case,

there's nothing in Sérgio's papers that confirms it.

I would've remembered...

In fact, I can remember him hinting in one of the cassettes that he himself

was your father.

What cassettes?

The ones he recorded for his memoirs.

He wrote his memoirs?

No, thankfully.

God voted against it.

I'm going to have a bath.

I'll put the water on.

Don't put yourself out.

Your supposed father had a sister.

She's called Odete.

I have her address. I've called her.

She's expecting you.

How did you do it?

That bastard Sérgio knew half the world.

It's not surprising he was Secretary of State twice...

- Now get lost. I want to get out. - Do you want me to dry you?

Go on, scarper!

I almost forgot, someone called for you.

Who? No one knows I'm here...

On your mobile... an Italian.

I couldn't understand what he wanted.

He seemed furious. He'll call back for sure.

Shit.

If I'd known I wouldn't have had that bath...

Before he joined the army,

he was a member of one of those clandestine groups...

When he was sent to Africa, they wanted him to spread

anti-war propaganda amongst the recruits...

But Abel couldn't bear the idea of fighting poor people,

people poorer than he was...

She said you don't look anything like him...

But she doesn't either, and she's his sister.

Her dress is dry now.

It's stopped raining.

She suggests we go to the grave. Her brother's grave.

ABEL DOS SANTOS 1952 -1974 MURDERED BY THE POLITICAL POLICE

They only put that up after the Revolution.

Before, it wouldn't have been allowed.

She was very young when he fled to France,

but she remembers him as if she'd seen him yesterday...

...She even thinks she had a kind of crush on him...

She thought him the cutest boy in the neighbourhood...

...She never saw him again...

We didn't know he'd come back to Portugal.

They buried him almost secretly.

They wouldn't let us see the body.

It must have been because of the state he was in, I suppose.

I'm freezing.

...At first, I went there just to annoy my old man.

Then, I started to like it.

I converted to Islam.

No, seriously. I lived for two years with a Moroccan woman.

A widow. Very rich. Old.

Like me?

More or less.

No, I'm joking.

A really old woman.

She said she was forty two, but she must have been at least five years older.

A magnificent woman, with blue tattoos on her forehead.

She smelled of cumin, spices...

Wonderful.

I brought her here once, at the beginning, before Sérgio's accident.

The bastard shut the door in our faces.

Racist shit!

He hated Arabs.

Do you know what I did?

I took her all over Lisbon for a week to show her off,

just to annoy him.

Why did you come back?

No special reason...

They'd got it into their heads that they would send me to Afghanistan.

Who's “they"?

The fanatics.

Idiots.

That's of no interest, forget it.

I don't want to talk about it.

I got fed up, that's all.

I got fed up of the mosque, of praying five times a day,

I got tired of couscous, and I got tired of the old woman.

So I got on a plane and left! That was it!

You're the first person I've seen since I got back.

Except my mother.

And Daisy.

Daisy doesn't count.

She asked if she could take a photograph of me...

I said yes, on condition she let me take one of her too...

Two hours later, we were in bed, in my room...

You can listen to the rest this evening. His voice irritates me.

Shall we go back to bed?

- No, I want to see the others. - What others?

Martim and Uriel. Do you know them?

I've seen them, yes... Uriel was my teacher.

The other one, I don't even know if he's still alive...

It shouldn't take you any longer than it did with Odete...

I'm going to have a shower.

I don't get it.

If Sérgio annoys you so much, why are you so interested in his business?

Don't tell me you're planning to write his memoirs for him...?

I did think about it, actually.

I liked the idea of using it to reveal the ugly face behind the mask.

But I don't think I have the guts.

He was my father, after all...

Are you serious?

What did he do to you?

To me, not much. He didn't have time.

But I hate guys that asslick the Americans

just as they asslicked Mao before...

I don't give a shit about politics, but it's as if...

as if they were spitting in the face of their own youth.

For me, that's what being old is about.

It makes me sick.

And you no?

I don't know.

I'm not as young as you...

Perhaps I never have been...

Come on.

I doubt this'll work.

Unless it's a good day.

His memory seems to vary from day to day.

What's actually wrong with him? What do they call it?

I don't know, something unpronounceable.

Some kind of mental confusion.

You're lucky, it could be Alzheimer's...

-Is that him? -Yes.

Half an hour, all right?

The doctor insists.

I'll come and get him in half an hour.

Take care, Martim, eh?

Elsa! What are you doing here?

Why have you come?

You shouldn't have.

It's not wise.

Does Uriel know?

I'm not Elsa, I'm her daughter. My name's Elisa...

No names! Be quiet!

There are microphones everywhere...

Who's he? I've never seen him before.

I'm David. Sérgio's son.

Sérgio? What Sérgio? What's this all about?

We should sit down. Do you mind?

OK, we can sit...

Do you have a cigarette?

No, you light it.

They don't want me to smoke.

Everything to break my will.

Light up, light up.

Not like that, stealthily ...

Are they watching?

Who?

Them, for Christ's sake! Who!

No, no one's watching.

Who's this idiot? What's he called?

Have you told Uriel?

Did you tell him you'd bring him?

Smoke!

That's right, smoke.

If you don't, they'll get suspicious.

Smoke.

Tell Uriel I said nothing.

Not a word.

Come on, sit down.

Let's sit down...

Not you!

You stay there and keep your eyes open.

If you see them coming, warn us.

Tell him they've found Abel's body.

They showed me photos...

That inspector, Fontana.

That pile of manure. Tell him!

Who?

Uriel, shit. Who else?

All right, I'll tell him.

I didn't want it, Elsa.

I swear I didntwantit.

I voted against.

I was the only one that voted against and I never touched him, I swear...

I never touched Abel, I never touched that knife...

What knife?

- Tell Uriel... - Martim, what knife?

Tell Uriel I said nothing.

Almost nothing...

Just that...on the fourth night...

I couldn't take any more.

Don't worry, I'll tell him.

I couldn't ...

I said the name... his name...

I didn't want to, I swear.

I didn't manage...

I was...

I'm worthless.

Tell him that:

I'm a piece of shit.

But I only said the name.

Nothing more.

Only the name.

And I shut up imediatly.

I didn't say anything about Abel nor about the knife...

Not a word.

Just the name.

What's going on?!

- Warn Uriel. - What have you done to him?

I don't want anything to happen to him.

Why have you got him all worked up like this?

Tell him to come and see me.

Come on, Martim.

I'd really like to see him just one more time.

Sh, calm down...

"The knife"... What knife? What did he mean by that?

I've no idea. It makes no sense.

He was delirious. He's going over it all in his mind.

He thought you were your mother, poor guy.

His clock stopped thirty years ago.

Elisa, forget this.

Sérgio's dead and this chap's almost there.

Don't bother any more about it. Forget it. Let's head south.

I know a little beach...

No.

Why?

I want to see Uriel.

Why? It won't get you anywhere.

At least he's not dead or stopped like a clock...

Hello?

Yes, Luca.

Sorry, I can't talk now.

I'll call you later, OK?

Elisa, please!

I can't now. Later.

All right, but please call... Promise me you'll call.

- Yes, but I've got to hang up now. - Wait! Just a second...

Who is that David? Why did he answer your phone?

He's no one special. The son of a friend, a kid.

I'm going to hang up. I'll call back later. Bye.

-Akid? Me? - Weren't you the one that called me old?

Was that the Italian?

- Is he your boyfriend? - Take me to Uriel's house?

I can't

He's not there. I phoned.

He's in Spain.

For a seminar... a conference...

Something like that.

- Why didn't you tell me? - I forgot.

And when will he be back?

I don't know, they didn't say.

Can I drive?

Why not? You can't drive worse than me...

She remembers him very well.

There were three of them.

Fontana was the boss.

He called everyone “comrade'.

Joking, of course.

Even her, and she was just a kid.

They went to their house twice.

They didn't find anything.

They just took the knives from the kitchen.

They never brought them back.

The knives? Why?

Fontana said that Abel's body was riddled with stab wounds.

I don't understand. In the paper, they said it was a bullet.

“A bullet to the body"...

She thinks that story of the stabbing was a bluff...

like the lies about a “settling of scores”...

10 make it seem like her brother Was 3 gangster.

The truth was they found nothing.

They took the knives and never returned them...

David's gone out.

Good morning.

- What do you want? - Excuse me?!

What are you looking for? Why have you come?

-I'm sorry, I don't understand... - You understand very well!

You went to see Martim, you want to see Uriel...

Why?

No reason... just to see them.

Don't you think it's quite enough what she did to them?

Who?!

Elsa. Your mother.

What? What did she do to them?

- Didn't she tell you? - No, she didn't.

May I?

Leave them alone!

Don't start stirring up all that filth.

Go away!

I'm sure none of them know which one is your father.

She probably didn't know herself.

Indeed? They told you that?

How could she know?

She slept with them all.

Except, perhaps, Martim...

He was more inclined to Uriel,

if I understood properly!

Go away!

I will go away as soon as I've seen Uriel.

It's useless. He doesn't want to see you.

That's what you think?

If you don't mind, I'd rather he told me himself.

Him or me, it's the same thing. I'm his wife.

I thought you were Sérgio's wife...

We divorced ten years before he died.

Didn't David tell you?

He must have forgotten.

In any case, it seems like Elsa had her followers...

Really!

But it's not surprising. You're her daughter.

No one could say you'd been wasting your time...

Listen.

I don't want to hurt Uriel, or David or you.

Could we continue this conversation later?

I'd like to get dressed.

I think we've said everything there is to say.

But I don't advise you to bother Uriel.

I'll do everything in my power to prevent.

Go away.

Leave us alone!

Elisa?

Elisa!

Where are you going?! Are you leaving?

The service is rather poor,

but I thank you for your hospitality nevertheless.

- What happened? - Your mother sprang a surprise on me.

- Let me pass, please? - Just one second, wait!

My mother came?

- She was here less than half an hour ago. - What did she want?

To inform me about her marriage to Uriel. You knew, by any chance?

So that's what it is...

- I know, I should have fold you right away. -You lied to me.

Just as you lied about Uriel's seminar in Spain.

She didn't want you to see him now.

She says he's not very well...

Elisa, I swear I didn't want to lie to you, I was just trying to make time... to see...

- I don't know... - What I was like in bed, is that it?

- No, not that at all... - I think it is.

Elisa!

Elisa, wait!

- My taxi's waiting. - Don't you want to see Fontana?

The inspector? The one with the knives?

Ex-inspector.

Don't you want to leave your bag? No. All right...

I think what I like most about them

is that they always go back into the cage of their own will.

They never fail.

Only if you kill them.

French, eh?

I spent two years in Paris during the old regime, of course...

With Citroén, “Quai de Javel...

Officially as an interpreter for the Portuguese immigrants...

Unofficially, to keep an eye on them...

I can't say I didn't like it.

Magnificent women. Men a bit effeminate.

But beautiful women.

This one's called Che...

I also have a Mao and a Fidel.

I'had a Cunhal, but they killed him.

Probably a fascist son-of-a-bitch with 3 shotgun...

He was one of my favourites, very handsome.

Rather vain.

But beautiful.

And Abel? You didn't call any of them Abel?

I could have done.

“Abel". I like the name...

And I didn't dislike the man...

You liked him so much you put a bulletin his head, didn't you?

I never shot anyone.

No man, not even a pigeon.

Someone did.

Ah, right. Someone did. But it wasn't me nor any of us.

Maybe Abel shot himself in the head?

A suicide, eh?

Wasn't that what your police said each time they killed someone?

"He fell downstairs”...

“He threw himself out of the window”...

There were cases, it's true. It did happen.

Just like that. Spontaneously. Without any help.

The police didn't kill.

And they didn't torture either!

Exactly.

No shooting, no torture.

A clout from time to time, I dare say, but we didn't go any further.

Not like the French during the Algerian war.

Electrocutions, waterboarding...

We Portuguese don't do things like that.

It's not in our nature.

A clout, a little knock about, Yes, that could happen...

Like that? Like that or stronger!?

David!

- “Fontana! Fontana! Up your ass...” - Bastards!

“...And suck on the banana! Fontana! Fontana!”

Fucking niggers!

“Up your ass and suck on the banana!” Rat!

Fucking niggers!

Shitty race.

We let them kick us out of the colonies

and they'll end up competing with us for the metropolis.

Those folk, give them an inch and they take a mile...

Last week they killed two of my pigeons...

Sorry, I can't take any more.

If I stay, it'll be me that ends up cutting the throat of this pile of shit.

I'll wait for you downstairs.

Sensitive, are you?

Like your father.

You know, he was the only one that didn't talk?

Sérgio?

Yes, nota word.

Who would've thought it?...

All that to end up a minister in a right-wing government!

If he hadn't died before, he would have ended up a true Safazarista.

And he wouldn't have been the only one...

And Abel?

Now that was a different story.

Even today I wonder if he wouldn't have held out

if it hadn't been for the French girl...

Even so, he gave us a hard time.

The French girl?!

Sorry, nothing personal...

We'd intercepted a letter that she'd written to the other one, Uriel.

That was when he started to cave in.

While it was just physical, he didn't budge.

But when we read him the letter, he fell apart completely.

He was completely besotted, poor thing.

Then, it wasn't difficult to convince him that if we released him

he'd have some chance to get the girl back.

But to be released, he'd have to pay the price...

And he paid up?

I left him alone for two days with the lefter.

On the third day, he called for me.

Two days later, he was out.

You see, we had no reason to kill him.

He was more useful to us alive than dead.

And the others?

With what he gave us, we caught them all.

Except Uriel...

...The French girl almost got caught in the net herself.

Unfortunately, I wasn't given authorization,

They didn't want any diplomatic problems with France.

They didn't thing the case was that important...

All they let me do was search her room

and drive her to the airport.

A pity.

I have to confess, that would've been rather a kick...

I don't doubt.

In any case it didn't serve for much.

Their “Revolution” put an end to the case.

They kicked us all out and put us in the slammer

in their place.

Just like that kid's game: One day the cop, next day the robber...

But tell me, I know you, don't1?

We've already met...

No. I've never met anyone like you. I would never have forgotten.

Yes, Luca...

Wrong! Last chance.

Tom!

Bingo!

Your Italian came to Paris looking for you.

Pilar sent him to me. He's desperate...

Did you tell him where I was?

No. Safe as the grave, me.

Don't worry, that's just a metaphor, at least for now.

I persuaded him to go home and promised I'd give him some news.

- Shit! - What's the matter?

Tom?

A domestic accident. Nothing serious.

A tragedy of no importance.

Listen, Elisa... Are you listening?

Yes. What is it?

I've been thinking about this paternity business of yours. It's ridiculous...

I'm sure that you got involved in all this just to escape the Italian

because you're afraid of marriage.

Whatever, it's too late to change.

I'm the only decent father you've got left, do you hear?

Yes. Goon.

And then, blow it

! don't feel like spending my fast days

acting out some grotesque melodrama:

“The False Father', “The Unworthy Father', “The Substitute”.

Please, Elisa, don't make me into that sort of figure!

Listen:

I remember your nappies, the scarlatina,

the time you cut your eye, do you remember?

Both of us thought you'd be blind and I was crying like a fool...

and you were trying to comfort me, saying you still had your other eye.

And that's it!

I've decided I want to stay your father.

At least, I'm applying for the job.

There's no reason, blow it!

Are you listening?

I'm listening to everything, Tom.

And to tell the truth, [can't getrid of all

these papers on my own...

I have the impression that there's more and more all the time.

Please, Elisa...

Don't give up on me, for Christ's sake!

- You haven't changed your mind? - It's better like this.

I always spoil everything.

It's not you. It's got nothing to do with it.

Elisa.

This is where Uriel teaches tomorrow morning.

Uriel?

Uriel!

'I hadn't noticed how like her you were.

Yours truly, V. Fontana Police inspector. (Retired)”

What happened? Who did this?!

I swear it's as if they'd massacred my own children.

They didn't harm anyone: They would just fly, eat, fly off again...

Savages!

Salazar was right:

Take your boot off their neck and they eat you alive!

They're not people... they're hyenas!

I should thank your “comrades”, those bastard communists.

They wanted freedom?

There you have it, your beloved freedom!

And you dare come into my house and say to my face

that I did him in?

It wasn't me.

But I'll be frank: I regret that.

If they'd told me to kill him, I would have!

I'd have killed him ten times, a thousand times over.

Our mistake was that we didn't kill more of them.

No, it wasn't me that killed him.

It was his own friends, his “comrades”!

They were the ones that did it.

And it wasn't with a bullet in the head, as that other idiot said...

No! They stabbed him to death.

That's a lie.

A kitchen knife.

I don't believe it!

- Like butchers!... -You're lying!

Go on! Ask them.

Shut up!

Go and ask “Professor” Uriel...

Stop!

Ask the other one, the faggot, the nutter...

- Ask them, and you'll see. - I'm not listening!

But I've got records, tell them.

I've got records about every one of those bastards.

What goes around comes around.

One day the cop, next day the robber...

Yes? Who's speaking?

Maria, hello.

Could I speak to Tom, please?

I'm sorry. You can't

What do you mean I can't? Isn't he there?

Yes... Wait..

I'll tell you.

I found Tom yesterday, sitting...

in the library.

Sitting down. Eyes open.

I touched him. Cold as ice.

He don't hear. He don't speak.

I was afraid, I called doctor.

Doctor say nothing to be done...

Too late.

One second, Maria... What...

Too late...

No. Wait Maria.

Doctor say Tom dead.

Heart dead. Completely dead.

Tom so lively...

Always so lively...

Elisa?

It's me, David.

Can I see you?

It's important.

Come in.

Elisa?

I'm here.

What's wrong? Has something happened?

Are you leaving?

Yes, I'm going away. Home...

What do you want?

It's Uriel.

He asked me to come and get you.

He wants to see you.

I'll wait here for you, all right?

It's better not.

I'd rather you went away.

You don't want to see me any more, is it that?

One day, perhaps. I don't know.

When I saw you up there in the lecture theatre, I thought I was going mad,

or that there really are ghosts.

I knew you were like her, but not that much.

I feel as if I've been surrounded by ghosts

since she died...

Tom was right.

This story's ridiculous.

I should never have come.

Now it's too late. The damage has been done.

You're here.

Why did you change your mind?

Inés told me you didn't want to see me...

And this morning, you avoided me. Was it because I look like her?

Maybe...

But no, no it's not that.

I guess I finally realised that...

you've a right to know.

Why here?

It's sinister.

Sinister, you think?

Maybe that's what Abel thought when we brought him here that night...

It was the only possible place, we had no other.

I don't think it's sinister, despite what happened.

Perhaps because I grew up here.

This was my holiday home.

I came here every year, in the summer.

I didn't set foot in it again afterwards but I didn't have the heart

to sell it, either.

As you insist on having a guided tour of the past,

I thought the best thing would be to bring you to the place

where it all happened.

Here?

Here.

We learned from Elsa that Abel had... talked.

In those days, we would have said “betrayed us"...

They'd given him a passport and two plane tickets

to go back with her to Paris.

The thirty pieces of silver...

It was her that arranged to meet him here.

At my request, of course.

How could she agree to such a thing?

She agreed.

But she didn't want to be present.

Can we go out? I can't breathe in here...

We were all in agreement.

If one of us talked, then he'd be judged by the others...

I expect you find this a bit childish.

Why? Isn't it?

Probably. But for us it was serious.

We were twenty years old...

The price to pay to “change the world"...

To turn him into a cemetery?

Why not, if he didn't deserve anything better?

Martim was the only one that voted against.

Even Abel voted for it...

He voted “for"?!

Against himself?

Incredible, isn't it?

However, at the time, it seemed natural...

It seemed just.

So that stuff about the knife, it's true?

We only had one pistol... an old one.

Almost an antique.

The only one who knew how to use it was Abel himself.

He was the only one who'd done military service

before he deserted...

I know it's difficult to believe, but...

It was him that showed us how to do it.

If I'd done what he did, I'd also have wanted to die.

It was arranged that we would all shoot one after the other.

We drew lots... it fell to me.

At the first shot the pistol jammed...

the bullet wounded him in the neck.

I'd never seen so much blood...

He was suffering terribly, it was unbearable.

Damn pistol, there was no way...

Someone found the knife...

old, half-rusty...

Please.

That's enough.

My car's there.

I'd rather walk.

I'm going to try to get a taxi in the village.

I doubt you'll get a taxi at this time.

I'd rather risk it.

I understand.

And the letter?

What letter?

The one Elsa wrote to you...

that the police read to Abel.

What did it say?

I never read it

She never sent it me.

They must have got hold of it while they were searching

her hotel room.

She probably had no intention of sending it to me.

She sent me a photo of you. A baby.

Without a word.

Why to you?

- Do you think...? - No.

Tom's hands...

What?

Nothing.

Can I keep it?

It was the only one she ever took of me...

- I suppose I can't refuse. - No.

I can't look at you without seeing her.

I look at you and I see her.

ABEL DOS SANTOS 1952-1974 MURDERED BY THE POLITICAL POLICE

Yes, Luca?

I was going to call you.

I'm going back tomorrow. I've already booked...

the first flight.

All right. See you tomorrow.

David, it's me.

I'm in the cemetery.

Come and find me.

I'm waiting for you.