All language subtitles for The Balcony-1963

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The shooting is getting worse
by the minute,

which is either very bad
for business or very good.

Meanwhile,
what are we supposed to do?

Sit on it.

Not on the costumes.

Look, Janitor,
get this back in the basement.

Nobody's used it for weeks.

Twenty minutes
stuffed in that box.

I'm sweating like a pig.

Oh.

Bishop's bucket.

The delicate work
of virgin needles.

Come on up, little darling.

Your time is up.

Well, I, uh... I could give you
another 10 minutes

if you could give me
another 10 bucks.

No, leave me alone, I'm broke.

Oh, beautiful two-pointed hat.

Now answer me.

Answer me.

Do I come here to discover evil?

Or to discover innocence?

Are you starting all over again?

Is it real or is it false?

These rooms, these lights,

- these mirrors.
- These joy rags.

I can tell you this,
I'm not at all happy.

No, I'm not even
pleasantly fatigued.

All you confessed
were six tiny little sins.

And far from my favorite ones
at that.

Six tiny little sins.

But they were sickening ones.

Don't think it wasn't
a job to find those.

What, do you mean
they were false?

No, no, no, no.

No, sweetheart,
they were real all right.

It was quite a job
committing them.

Sin is not easy, you know,
in a place like this.

If you men could only realize
what a girl has to go through

in order to break
the moral code.

A place that has no moral code.

Oh, my child.

Don't think I don't
appreciate your work.

The world is so lax these days

that there's
no standard anymore.

There's no way to separate

the sinner from the spectator.

If, uh, you could give me

only five more minutes.

What for?

For a carnal embrace.

Well, you never did want that.

They're fighting outside.

I'll get killed before I...
Before I get to my truck.

Well, that's your problem,
not mine.

The show is over.

Uh, wait.

Um, look, I want you to tell me.

Did... did you really,
really commit

those wonderful,
sickening crimes?

Sure, absolutely.

And when my gaze
pierced your hazel eyes,

your eyes are the color
of alley cats.

Did I see
the glimmer of repentance?

Of course.

You paid for it, didn't you?

My ring, my hat,

my embroidered cape,

my holiness

lies only in being able
to forgive you,

every one of your sins

even if they're only
make-believe.

What if my sins were real?

You're out of your mind.

I hope you didn't do
all that stuff

that you've been telling me.

Real sin frightens you,
doesn't it?

Well, certainly.

If your sins were real
then they'd be crimes

and I'd be in a fine mess.

That's no make-believe scream.

How do you know?

And anyway, what does it matter?

Oh, forgive me.

I'll do anything,
anything you want.

Only, let me stay
just a tiny little bit longer.

Here, let me change
places with you.

I'll be the widow

and you be the priest.

Oh, let me confess to you.

To you.

I promise to tell you sins!

It will make you
climb up the walls

with your fingernails.

All right, that's enough.

Come on, stop it.

Oh, you men, you're all alike.

You're always trying
to get something for nothing.

Now come on, be a good boy.

Get dressed and go home.

And before it gets
too dangerous.

I've had the janitor
bring your truck around

to the back alley.

You don't give a damn
about my safety.

As soon as the job is finished

you don't give a damn
about anyone.

You know, this is your fault,
you've gotten him overexcited.

It was the same as usual,
Ms. Irma.

Come on, get his shoes.

Get his shoes, put them on him.

That generally brings them
to their senses.

I have another
little job for you.

A very prominent man,
very clean.

He wants you to play his wife.

Dead, of course.

What, again?

Oh, ornaments.

And you above all,
imaginary cape.

You protect me from the world.

You close around me.

Now.

I think a little white makeup

and especially on the lips

oh, and a dozen black candles.

You are to lie perfectly still,
understand?

Me.

You illustrate me
with branches and flowers.

Oh.

Get rid of him.

Now, don't forget the candles.

He specified a dozen,

but nine or 10 will do
just as well at it.

And put them out as soon
as the performance is over.

I don't want the place
catching on fire.

Take it easy,
too much satisfaction

they don't come back.

Carmen!

Carm...

Guns, really?

How can men be so obvious?

Now turn on the hi-fi, dear.

Try and get something classical.

How much did we take in today?

I'll see.

The man from Mars, 20.

The sailor, 30.

Baby in the playpen, oh,
there's a real monster for you.

Carmen, I demand respect
for the visitors.

Visitors?

Think of them as patients
if you want to,

but visitors.

I don't allow anyone,
even myself,

to refer to them
in any other way.

I don't see why
I should kid myself.

We're chippies
and they're johnnies.

The general, 50.

- The general today?
- Oh, a really marvelous one.

In private life,
he's a milk wagon driver

with three children

and a kitchen garden
and a tendency to...

a tendency towards asthma.

Where the hell's
the 27th division?

Coming, sir.

The door's locked?

Closed, locked, barred,

sewn, glued, and tattooed.

Where's the blood?

- I don't see any blood.
- Dried.

Don't forget, it's the blood
of your past battles.

You're late,
where the hell were you?

Didn't they give you
your feed bag?

You're smiling, are you,
smiling at your rider.

You recognize his hand,
gentle but firm.

My proud steed,
my handsome mare,

we've had many
a spirited gallop together.

And that's not all.

I want a trip through the world
with my nervous legs

and well-shod hooves.

Take off your shoes
so I can dress you.

All right.

But first, down on your knees.

Come on!

Bend them, bend them!

Bravo, Dove, bravo!

You haven't forgotten a thing.

Now, take off my shoes.

Ow!

Take off your own shoes!

What are you, a horse or a slut?

You're a horse,
you'll toss your head.

All right, now,
help me with my boots.

All right, pull.

Oh, not so hard!

See here, you're not
a plow horse.

I do what I have to do.

Are you rebelling already?

Wait till I put the bit
in your mouth.

Oh, no, not that.

A general reprimanded
by his horse.

You have the bit,
the bridal, the saddle.

And I, in boots and spurs,
will whip and plunge.

The bit is awful,
it makes the gums

and the corners
of the lips bleed.

I'll draw blood.

Foam pink and spit fire,

but what a gallop.

Over hill, over dale,
from dawn to twilight.

From twilight to...

Good, you got all the ribbons?

They're all here, sir.

Well.

What about the war?

It's approaching, sir.

It's evening
in an apple orchard.

The sky is calm and pink.

The earth is bathed
in a sudden peace,

a moan of doves.

Peace that precedes battles.

The air is very still.

War is declared!

But suddenly...

We're at the edge of the meadow.

I keep myself from flinging out,

from whinnying.

Your thighs are warm

and you're pressing my flanks.

Death has pricked up her ears.

She puts a finger to your lips.

Asking for silence.

Things are lit up
with an ultimate goodness.

You, yourself,
no longer heed my presence.

But the dead?

Aren't their any dead?

Soldiers died,
kissing the standard.

You were all victory
and kindness one evening.

Remember?

I was so mild.

But I began to snow.

To snow on my men.

To shroud them in the softest
of winding sheets.

Valley Forge.

Death, who was ready to drop,

finally, exhausted,

herself dead with fatigue,

she grew drowsy and rested
lightly on your shoulder

where she went to sleep.

And I die.

As quietly as all that.

- By falling off your horse...
- Stop, stop.

It's not time for that yet.

But I feel
it will be magnificent.

General.

Dove, are you ready?

Cover me with flags.

Procession has begun.

The nation weeps
for that splendid hero

who died in a battle.

Dove.

Sir?

Add that I died
with my boots on.

My hero died with his boots on.

The military band
plays a funeral march.

Lick it.

What the hell is that?

Shh!

Lick it!

Lick it.

Lick it!

I won't do a thing
until you lick it.

Do what I tell you.

No, no.

Not yet.

Do you plead guilty
or not guilty?

I don't know.

Whatever you want.

For the last time,
let me explain:

You must either plead guilty
or not guilty.

Well, what about my confession?

That's for later.

Don't face me, face the jury.

Address them
and speak up, speak up.

I'm not guilty of anything,
they forced it out of me.

My dear child, do you accuse
the police of brutality?

Should I?

Yes, yes, yes.

They dragged me out of bed
in the middle of the night.

Do you expect these good people

to believe a story like that?

Well, it's true, Your Honor,
absolutely true!

Those cops switched
on their headlights

and turned me upside down

and put those handcuffs
on my legs.

Then how did you manage,
may I ask,

to put on your dress?

They were nice enough
to do it for me.

Afterwards or before?

Oh, any way you like.

My dear child, it would help
matters a great deal

if you would only cooperate.

If you get down
on your knees, Your Honor,

and crawl towards me
and lick the point of my shoe,

I'd do anything
in the world you ask

if you would just lick
the point of my shoe.

Too fast.

Too fast, we'll start again.

We must go back
to the beginning.

Don't you understand?

Look here, if I'm to be
a model judge,

you've got to be a model thief.

If you're a fake thief,
I become I fake judge.

Now, isn't that clear?

Yes, Your Honor.

All right then.

Now, tell me, my poor child,
where did you go?

How were you dressed?

How did you, um, operate?

Oh.

I went into people's homes

when the maids were off.

I use the servant's entrance.

And I stole things
from people's drawers

and I... I broke open
children's piggy banks.

And one time,
I dressed up as a lady

and I put on a dark brown suit

and I had a black straw hat
with cherries on it,

and a veil with black shoes

that had little heels,
Cuban heels.

And, um, and somebody said,

"You know,
she looks like a model."

Where, where,
where, where, where?

Where was it, what street?

How was the house furnished,
the people in the house,

were they asleep?

Did you listen
to their breathing?

Did they talk in their dreams?

What did they say, come on,
tell me, tell me, tell me.

Now, look here!

I can't remember junk like that.

All right, tell me
about the things you stole.

The furs, the radios,
the jewelry.

A canary.

Did you steal any nice,
shiny, soft canary birds?

Little hearts beating like mad
under their feathers?

No, no, I didn't.

What for?

You did, you did.

And where did you keep it?

Do you have a secret pocket?

Don't be nasty.

Come on, the stuff,
the stuff, tell me about it.

Describe what you stole.

Oh, I stole... I stole perfume

and a flashlight
and a bottle of insecticide.

Oh, wonderful, wonderful.

A bear skin, a potted plant,

two dozen Turkish towels.

And?

Bread.

- Money?
- No, no, no, real bread.

Oh, wonderful.

Oh, sublime, sublime!

Sublime, oh, how happy I am.

Oh, the world is an apple,

which I cut with the knife
of my intellect.

Right to the right,
wrong to the left.

I am Solomon.

I am supreme judge.

You are the supreme criminal.

Yet my justice is tempered
with unforeseen mercy.

Why did you steal bread,
my poor little one?

I was hungry.

I also stole a scarf.

Now we come to the crux
of the matter.

A scarf?

And what were you going
to do with the scarf?

Who were you planning
to strangle?

Answer! Who?

Are you a thief or a strangler?

Tell me.

Tell me, I beg of you.

Oh, tell me you're not
nearly a petty thief.

Yes, yes, yes,
it's true Your Honor.

I'm a blood sucker!

Oh, no, no, no.

- No?
- No, that's for later.

What's for later?

I mean, the confession
comes later.

Right now, deny everything,
everything.

Yeah, and get beaten again?

Exactly, my child,
get beaten again.

First you deny and deny and deny

and then, admit and repent.

I want to see real tears
gush from your lovely eyes.

I want to be drenched in them.

I have already cried.

Haven't you had enough?

I want blows and bruises
and then tears.

I want to see real tears
of repentance.

I want to touch them
with the edge of my black robe.

Only when I see you
wet as a meadow.

On one condition,
dear little judgy.

Anything, anything.

I want you to crawl.

I want you to crawl.

I want you to crawl!

I want you to crawl.

Lick it.

Mm.

Again.

Again.

Lick it.

- Again.
- Again.

Carmen.

Girl calls herself
a professional.

First day I came here
I was a million times better

than she'll ever be.

You get three times her salary.

I promoted you.

You sit in my office at my desk.

The files are open to you,

this whole city is your secret.

Still you're not happy.

No.

I hate this job!

Why won't you let me go back?

I want to go back to what I was.

I want to go back to the studio,
to the performances,

when I played Saint Natasha
and I held my eyes

in the palm of my hand,

and I saw the sweat
break out on his face.

Come on, baby, you don't take
that nonsense seriously.

Yes.

Oh.

Well, most of the time, anyway.

It makes the time
pass so quickly.

So wonderfully.

Oh, Carmen, you're too romantic.

That's always been your problem.

You've got to get it
through your little head,

this is not a palace
full of beautiful dreams.

This is a big concrete box
divided into compartments.

Each compartment is
a machine for making money.

We sell dreams.

Your job is to keep
the overhead down.

Well.

Still.

If every once in a while...

Once a week?

- No.
- On Sunday afternoons?

No.

The main door.

Answer it.

The messenger boy was here
about an hour ago

with the sandwiches.

He says the city's
full of corpses

in the alleys and the doorways,

floating way down
under the bridges.

Ms. Irma, suppose
they should break in here.

Nonsense.

Nothing like that's
going to happen here.

I count on my hero.

My George.

My own sweet monster,
he'll save us all from ruin.

You're really very fond of him,
aren't you?

I love him.

As much or as little
as I love you.

I'll answer it myself.

Who are you
and what do you want?

It's the chief,
he's been wounded.

Oh, George.

Is it deep?

It wasn't a bullet,
it was gasoline.

I was lucky, they could've
gotten me in the face.

Oh.

Oh, George.

Roger's winning.

Really?

What about the paratroopers?

Oh, they're loyal, surely.

They have to be, they don't
even speak our language.

The general
went out of his head.

Deserted to Roger
in a medium tank.

Luckily, they thought
it was a booby trap,

they blew him up.

Nobody believes anybody anymore.

It's depressing.

He was my second cousin,
did you know that?

Mm-mm.

Well, what about my ex-husband?

Which one?

I forget him name.

You know, the one with no chin.

The chief justice
of the Supreme Court.

He died of a heart attack.

He was falling from the window
of the 21st floor

of the Hall of Justice.

Oh.

What about the palace?

It's empty.

Why?

(unintelligible) gas.

I didn't want them looting
the Queen's imported furniture.

Of course.

But I thought the Queen was
going to fly in from the North?

She was, she did,
she couldn't land.

The airport's on fire.

The fire engines
didn't even come out.

But what about
the little archbishop?

Oh, dead I suppose?

I hope so, for his sake.

They've got his head
running around the city

tied to the handle bars
of a newsboy's bicycle.

No queen, no general,

no archbishop.

Not even a stupid chief justice
of the Supreme Co...

Hey, who's in charge?

- I am.
- I wonder about that.

The police are always in charge.

In fact, but not
in public opinion.

What do you mean by that?

Well, George, I run
the biggest house of illusion

in this part of the world.

I sell people back
their most hidden

secret imaginations.

People always want to play
the important parts.

The animals, astronauts,
judges, children.

Nobody ever wants to play
the chief of police.

So?

So what?

Well, dear,
I... I've had your uniform

in my warehouse for two years

and those expensive photo murals
of your mausoleum.

Nobody ever wants to pretend
that they're you.

You've got the power
but not the glory.

That's not my immediate problem.

And now that you think
you're defeated, you come here.

Why?

Play yourself, I suppose?

Not exactly.

George?

Why don't I set up
a cubicle for you?

And, uh, find you an aging

public men's room attendant,
huh?

Aw, I think I've got you
interested, darling, huh?

Stop it.

Stop it.

I'm going to win.

And I'm gonna win,

and I'll tell you
how I'm gonna win.

I'm going to bring
back the queen.

I'm going to parade her image
through the city

in an open limousine.

Huh.

She's a coward,
your little queen.

That's right.

But you?

You're not.

Oh, yes, I am.

And I run a brothel, George,

not a government.

I want you to play a game,

but the best game
you've ever played in your life.

I want you to run the government
for an hour, maybe two.

You'll wear a crown,
you'll wave to the people.

You'll play the queen.

You can do it, darling.

You can play the queen
better than the queen herself.

You're trying to disgust me,
aren't you?

President of a cathouse

and you're calling
the queen disgusting.

Precisely, because she's real

and with her embroidery
and her exercises

and mental telepathy.

She pretends that she's false.

You've got it exactly right.

The queen's a symbol,
nobody looks at her face.

And anyway,
you can wave a Chinese fan

in front of your nose.

The weather's hot.

They give up their rebellion.

They swoon away
in waves of love,

loyalty, and laziness.

No.

No, darling, I won't do it.

Why not?

A gasoline bomb, that's why not.

Nobody would go
to a house of pleasure

with a madam who's scarred
down one side of her face.

Irma?

Irma, I thought you loved me.

I mean, that's what
you always said.

What was that?

Was that just another trick
of the trade?

Oh, what I feel for you,
George, is a...

a sort of stupid affection.

You realize that we're on
the edge of destruction?

Do you know that Roger
and his clean up squads

are three blocks away?

That if he gets here,
we'll both hang?

Darling, we're going to hang.

Hang like Mussolini
and his mistress,

upside down with our faces
hacked away for souvenirs.

All this is gonna happen
unless I help you, huh?

One hour's ride,
that's all I ask.

You could save me.

You save me
by taking one hour's ride

in a brand new,
polished limousine.

Darling, do it, do it.

You'll have the time
of your life,

I promise, I know.

Hm.

No, George, not even for kicks.

You're worse
than I ever imagined.

That's right, much worse.

That's why I run this place
so successfully, George.

And that's why this is
the only institution

left untouched
by your rebellion.

That won't last long.

No, it'll last forever.

Forever!

When you and all
your institutions

are buried garbage

under the sewers and cemeteries

of these great puffed up cities,

when they are reduced to rubble

and left to be dug up
a thousand years from now

by some nearsighted
professor of archeology

who won't even understand
the language

in which we spoke,

this house will be here,

sometimes disguised
as a theater.

Sometimes as a church.

But always a place of ritual.

Ritual?

You want the ritual.

I'll show you what ritual.

I'll set fire to you,

to your hair,
to your bush, you bitch!

I'll light up this town
with blazing whores!

You're marvelous,
you are when you're like this,

- and I'm gonna help you.
- You better.

Out of sentiment

for those looney moments
of frustration

we've had between us.

George, I am going to preserve

your way of life.

You're gonna take the ride?

Oh, no, not me.

My visitors.

Experienced men and much better
at pretending than I am.

What do you mean by that?

Look.

I have a bishop.

I have a general.

I even have
a marvelous imaginary

chief justice
of the Supreme Court.

The real ones are dead.

Send them around
in your limousine.

And you,
you show them off alive.

There are two small obstacles.

In the first place,
will it work?

Well, let's try it and see.

They're expendable.

I'm not.

In the second place,
will they do it?

Carmen!

What have you been up to,
my sweetheart?

Listening.

No, no, no.

- Oh, please, oh, please.
- No, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, oh, you look so beautiful.

I can't, I simply can't.

Listen, Ms. Irma will
give you two free tricks.

Yeah, what good is that
if I'm killed?

And with any girl in the house,

including me.

Oh, baby, come on,
what do you say?

Got bullets thick as flies

and you want me to ride
in an open car, I...

Don't you love the queen?

What a question,
I adore the queen.

But I have hemophilia.

I... I bleed very profusely.

The... the thorn on a rose...

Oh, you're so mean.

Oh.

Oh, Carmen.

Carmen, please... Carmen,
don't... don't run away.

- Carmen, I'm only a gasman.
- You're a gasman

because you believe
that you're a gasman!

If you wanna be a bishop,
all you need to do is to say so

in a nice, loud, firm voice,

- and everybody will believe you.
- No, don't.

Oh, no, no.

I don't even know their ritual.

Everything I do I...

I make up out of my head.

Oh, good, then you won't
commit blasphemy, you see?

You'll start by knowing nothing.

Oh, you make your appearance
in the name of the queen.

- Oh, God.
- Yes.

- The queen, yes.
- And you'll be driven

through the streets of the city.

And you get to bless the crowd.

They may be spellbound
or they may be angry,

but your blessing will be
the same in either case.

The glory is yours.

Well, I guess that's true,
isn't it?

And you'll be driven
in a black limousine

through a city which has been
completely pacified

by explosives.

Or else... or else,
you'll be skinned alive

by revolutionary teenagers

in their leather jackets.

I want to, I... I really do.

- Do you?
- But, um...

But it won't be possible.

I'll be recognized... my voice.

My mannerisms.

- My acne.
- It will become

the endearing little acne
of the true bishop.

Then, this could be real.

- Permanent.
- Well, that's up to you.

What am I doing?

Why am I listening to you?

Everything you say
scares me to death.

Make it snappy, Carmen...
I don't have time

to listen to all this crap,
do you read me?

If the gentleman doesn't fit
the bill, then get a dummy,

but get a move on!

- Oh.
- My child.

We interrupt this program
of national music

to bring you an urgent message

from our heroic chief of police.

People of the left,

people of the right,

people of the center,

citizens.

I speak to you today,

yes, I speak to you today
as a father.

I call to you out of
a profoundly troubled heart.

Attempts have been made
to kill me.

They have failed.

They will always fail.

For even if they succeed,

they fail.

For if I die,

order must be restored.

Traffic must flow.

Jaywalking must be crushed.

But calm your fears,
my dear people.

I live.

The queen lives.

Authority lives.

Our nation lives.

Our civilization
is therefore invulnerable.

Its enemies will wither away

like a weed withers in the sun!

And how could it be otherwise?

This nation.

This holy nation.

This national heritage.

This nation
of saints and generals!

This nation of folkloric heroes

and gigantic agronomists!

This national nation.

This nation composed equally

of minerals and miracles.

Where the dark intuition
of Indianism

mingles with the geometry
of Aristotle.

This nation of yours,

this nation of mine,

of grandmothers
and grandchildren,

kneeling before
our national shrine.

This national soil,
virgin and prolific,

fertilized daily

by the heroic manure
of our national cattle,

I say to you, "Our nation."

Is it conceivable to you,

as it is certainly not to me,

this nation can be anything else
but eternal?

Who dares spit at it?

Who dares to soil

the purity of this nation,

which is, of itself,

a monument to all other nations!

Only a dwarf named Roger.

Roger.

Roger.

Roger is a fiction.

If he exists at all,
which I doubt,

this unreal person,

according to
my infallible records,

was knifed and killed
by a fellow convict

while serving a term
for sex offenses,

the obscenity of which

I cannot read to you

in the midst
of this family setting.

Roger, dead or alive,

is a liar, a liar.

The general
whom he claims to have beheaded

will tour this city
in 10 minutes.

The distinguished chief justice
of the Supreme Court,

supposedly dead of fright,

will ride with the general.

The bishop,

who many people have accused me
of shooting for treason,

will ride with the general
and the judge.

Now, I warn you to evacuate

the northern section
of the city,

which is now occupied
by the so-called rebels

and used as
their so-called headquarters.

I have ordered
the entire district blown up

by high explosives.

You have three minutes,
a total of 180 seconds,

at which point, Roger,
if he exists at all,

will be blown to bits.

The rebellion will be over.

Long live the queen.

Long live the true,

the authentic revolution!

Long live your chief of police!

Marvelous!

Wonderful!

That was a magnificent speech.

I agree, it was magnificent.

Your George
made a magnificent speech.

However, I doubt
if it's gonna do any good.

And if it doesn't,

you and I might have
very interesting deaths.

Have you ever seen anyone
torn apart by human hands?

They grab anything
they can get hold of.

Well, that's why I have my, uh...

- What in the hell is that?
- Well, it's a simple way

to avoid desecration.

Darling, you deceive me.

I thought you had general
and complete disarmament

in this sanctuary of dreams.

Those explosions
you were talking about, are...

Are they real or imaginary?

They're very real.

I've got a squad of engineers

planting explosives
in the sewer,

and what I wish...

I wish I had one
small nuclear device,

because there's nothing
like a dusty cloud

to make people emotional.

That would guarantee success.

Oh, look at the houses.

They've been tortured,
they've been martyred.

Oh, the smell is awful.

Guts, dynamite.

Broken sewers.

It's not a nice thing.

Still they got
what they asked for,

didn't they?

Violence breeds violence,

people breed people.

No, that's not what I mean.

What I mean is

they should have come to me
and I'd have issued

some sort of a... what you call
an injunction, maybe.

Nolo contendere.

- Habeas corpus.
- Something has to be done.

Something decisive, positive,

something electrifying.

Action must be taken.

The important thing is

to rise to the occasion.

Unknown warriors, I salute you.

That was a stupid move...
Saluting the rebels.

What good can that do?

The dead are either
in heaven or in hell.

In either case, they're not
equipped with rifles.

You forget, my dear Bishop,
there may be survivors.

Oh, horrible thought.

All it takes is one man
to pull one trigger,

and one of us is dead.

Friends, friends!

You... you got me wrong,
I'm on your side.

I'm... I'm just a gasman.

I'm just a gasman!

- I...
- Sit down.

You'll draw their fire.

Hooray! Hooray for Roger!

Hooray for Roger!

Roger is dead.
Hooray for the queen.

Hooray for the queen!

I adore children.

Particularly
if they are not my own.

A child, an infant.

An army in embryo.

Pure thoughts.

Pure motives.

Sure signs of holy subnormality.

The procession of
our three national dignitaries

is proceeding according to plan.

Well, we're still alive.

It may not last.

It generally doesn't.

Things are going badly.

I should've sent a queen.

Our three dignitaries are now
passing from the destroyed area

to an area where
jeering crowds await them.

It's very upsetting.

Especially to a man like me.

They... they should kill us.

But, uh, they don't.

This is tremendous.

It's thrilling,
and I don't understand it.

It's patriotism.

Exactly.

Patriotism, particularly
in tropical countries like ours,

spreads like a contagion.

It clouds the brain,
brings tears to the eyes,

it makes a man's heart beat
like a machine gun.

Oh, my God,
I just saw my wife in the crowd.

And, my dear Chief Justice,
she was cheering

at the top of her voice.

Miracles, my dear General!

Miracles!

Bless you!

Bless you!

My children.

My dearest sheep.

My soiled and sinful flock.

I forgive you

all that you have done to me.

All your collective crimes

against the church
and the state,

and our beloved queen.

I wash them away

with my blessed tears.

Men of the queen's army.

Men of the Paramarines.

I could order you all
to be court-martialed

and tried for treason.

The trial would be brief,
indeed.

Form ranks, and set!

Every tenth man to step forward
will be shot.

For I am determined,
on this occasion,

to overlook your disobedience.

This great parade,

this afternoon
of magnificent loyalty.

This vast
"hup, two, three, four,"

this rhythm of discipline

and self-sacrifice.

I will not conceal from you
the fact

that it touches
this old soldier's heart.

Two ounces of Jamaica rum
to every man!

Leaves granted at six
tomorrow morning!

And then we depart,

all of us,

you and I,

for the enemy border

to infiltrate behind their lines

in the service of peace!

If I had know
what fools people were,

I'd have entered the primaries
a long time ago.

I'd have risen to the heights
of the legislative,

instead of the judicial.

I'd be a millionaire,

with deposits in a Swiss bank,
of course.

Money in my wife's
cousin's name.

That's how it's done nowadays...
Subtlety, indirection.

By virtue of the powers

residing in my robe,

my wig, and my office,

I hereby declare
a universal amnesty.

Your crimes are all pardoned.

I order you
completely rehabilitated

from stem to stern.

Rise.

Go.

And dissent no more.

There they are...
They're coming back.

Three saints.

Three heroes!

Three lunatics.

What we've been through.

And now it's all over.

- Maybe it isn't.
- What do you mean?

Don't you see, gentlemen?

It lies with us to make
this masquerade real.

We must seize the occasion,
we must act!

Action? Well, that's my job.

But act? How?

- That's the problem.
- Well, don't you see?

We must grab the occasion
by the short hair.

- Watch your grammar.
- What the hell do you mean?

He means nothing.

That's the function of language

up here in these upper levels.

First of all,
we must use language

that magnifies adulation.

Adoration.

Adumbration.

In the meantime, we must act

fast and with precision.

Now, take me, for example.

Instead of being
the symbolic head

of our country's church,

suppose I decide to be
its actual head.

I'll, um, reorganize the clergy.

A cathedral
is under construction.

It's all in there,

full of plans and projects.

What about you?

The law has its own tempo.

Nothing must be hurried.

I have a number of appointments

with magistrates
of the lower courts.

We're drafting new bills,
revising old laws.

- What about you, General?
- Me?

I don't know, your ideas
go through my head like a dream.

Is it possible for me
to wear this uniform forever?

To have a staff,

real maps, a female secretary,

military uniform?

You know,

I'd love to undo
all those brass buttons.

Take off
the sharp shooter medals,

the good conduct badge,

the battle stars one-by-one.

Delicious.

Do you realize
that all military underwear

is olive drab?

General... General, listen.

Supreme commander
of the Armed Forces.

This is a national crisis.

Yes, control your emotions,
General.

Don't you see that
we must make a positive effort

to seize power?

Except for one little thing,
my dear Chief Justice.

The chief
could have us all shot.

Oh, Lord.

Somewhere in time,
in time or in space,

there must exist
high dignitaries

invested with absolute power

and attired
with authentic ornaments.

But no, all they are
is nylon fur.

Pot metal decorations.

And machine-made lace.

Don't you see we must
seize power, the three of us?

But not seize, no,

we have it already.

- Shh.
- All we have to do

- is to hold onto it.
- Shh!

Someone's coming.

Well, uh, Chief, old boy.

Well, well, um...

glad to see you.

Have a nice day?

'Cause I'm feeling
pretty good myself, thank you.

All right, boys,
let's get down to facts.

How much do you want?

I'll sit down
and I'll write you out

a blank check.

Sir, you would degrade
the whole transaction.

Come on, come on, come on,
what do you want?

Lions, horses, elephants? Hm?

Boys? Girls?
Any particular size or shape?

Police department
has a special fund

- for these purposes.
- To hell with all that.

We can get
a thousand times better deal

by simply putting out our hand
and grabbing hold.

- Right!
- Why, you cheap,

chiseling imitation clowns.

You're all fakes!

And not even real fakes,
secondhand!

Imitation fakes!

Maybe so,
but what about the real ones?

They're fakes, too.

Judge, general, bishop.

Yes, and chief of police, too.

Take away their costumes,

watch them collapse.

Do you really think
I'll negotiate with

a certified public accountant,
a gas meter man,

and the... what do you do,
you drive a milk wagon?

That's all over with.

We have the power, my boy.

We have it or we'll take it.

The power in the military,
the temporal,

and the spiritual power.

One word from us, Chief,

the people
will tear you to pieces.

You forget one small item,
all of you.

That behind these draperies,
these costumes,

behind these flags,
behind these marble buildings

decorated
with blindfold statues,

there stands a man.

Me... equipped with a small,
deadly weapon.

Well, you can't
scare us anymore.

We are invincible.

We are immovable.

We stand together,
the three of us.

Stand wherever you like...
You'll die separate.

Each man in his own pool
of private blood.

Is he going to shoot?

Baby, go fix up my little bed.

Light the incense,

and put dark red bulbs
in both the lamps.

And, uh, spray it
with Spanish Fly cologne.

Oh, and Wagner.

- Wagner?
- Well, he likes Wagner.

He's magnificent, isn't he?

You can have him
when I'm done, honey.

Huh.

This thing is real.

This shoots.

This kills.

All right, come on.

Kill me, finish me off.

I'd be better off dead.

I'm not a nobody anymore,
I've changed.

Yesterday, I was happy
in a miserable way.

That's all gone down the drain,

because I've tasted glory.

Yes, glory.

I can't go back.

I wanna die in this uniform.

I urge you to kill me!

No, please!

No bandage over my eyes.

Just give me a lit cigar
between my lips

and pull the trigger.

Shoot.

Shoot!

You see,
you haven't got the guts!

Give me the gun, Chief,
and let me shoot you!

Ah!

Poor man.

I was very fond of him.

Couldn't help it.

Ow!

That wasn't
a decent thing to do,

kicking a dead man.

Irma's little gun.

Not even blanks... not even that.

Paper bullets.

Paper bullets good only
for killing cowards like you.

She wants you to break it open,
if you can.

She arranges everything.

And everything's phony,
phony bishop, phony general,

phony judge.

Phony gun.

And phony, phony lover.

What kind of a joke is that?

It's not a joke, exactly,
I'm in charge of the files.

- Am I in those files?
- Oh, not only you,

even Ms. Irma, even me,

even our venerated queen,
everybody.

Our microfilm is
a thousand times more complete

than yours,
and more significant.

You should see
what it says about you.

You ungrateful phony.

You ungrateful fake, you...

Why, my Chief,

how excited you are.

You're disgusting.

Why, George,
you have a real hate-on.

Irma, take off
that ridiculous costume.

Stop playing the fool, Irma.

Irma, take off that crown.

My darling, this is
the royal prerogative.

Look, I'm the winner today,
so I'll call the shots.

You've served me well, my Chief.

And now, I want you.

I wanna taste
the smoke in your hair,

and the sweat in your fingers.

Now, George.

Right now!

If you're that bad off,
I'll send you around

a squad of rookies
in the morning.

But, my darling, I'd prefer you.

Oh, women.

You're ridiculous.

You think you run the world,
you're old-fashioned.

Queen of Love,
you're out of date.

This may be the bad half
of the 20th century,

but I run it.

Nobody else, just me.

Not Irma, not... I mean,

not you, no presidents,
no dictators.

No kings, those are all...

Those are all pompous
little shadows,

I hold them up.

Me, I hold them up, nobody else.

They hate me,
they can't fire me!

It's true, my darling,
it's true...

Don't do that, please.

I'm talking now!
Where was I?

I was, uh...
They can't fire me, yes!

They can't fire me because
I know their hidden pleasures,

and I know their sneaky vices.

I know their actresses
and their ballet dancers.

I know the ruse
that they wear in secret,

and they know that I know!

So, I have the real power,
I have the power!

I have the fact,
not the fiction!

You are the victor,
and I am your queen.

Exactly, exactly, I'm the...

I'm the victor.

Modern state, what is it?
What is it?

It's a laugh,
a zoo without a keeper.

It would strangle without me!

It would stall,

stall in a monstrous,
greedy traffic jam.

I make it run. Me! Me!

With my police
and my array of guns!

I hold up the palace
of civilization!

My poor Chief.

You don't know yet
what power really is, do you?

I wish you wouldn't
say that now.

Oh, George.

Don't.

Don't take that off.

Leave that on.

Darling.

Ms. Irma! Ms. Irma!

- He's here.
- Oh, what the hell do ya want?

He's here,
the one with the eyes.

- Roger?
- Yes, that's the one.

The leader of the rebels.

The one you killed
a few hours ago?

He's here
and he wants to play you.

Is that a joke?
Are you kidding me?

Is that a joke?

Because it would be foolish
for you to play a political joke

- at a time like this.
- It's true.

- It's true, look at the screen.
- Where is he? Where?

Come on, come on, show me.

Show me where he is.

I put him temporarily
in the isolation block

at Alcatraz.

Carmen.

Roger.

Roger, my dear boy,
you look tired.

But, you've had a bad time,
haven't you?

Oh, Roger.

Roger, my boy,
this is going to be

the end for you, of course.

But it's going to be wonderful.

Wait and see, I promise.

Put him in the mausoleum set.

In the monument in the uniform.

You have the duplicate
of my uniform, don't you?

The one I sent you last year?

It's faded probably by now,
and, um...

Anyway, the whole setup
would cost a lot of money.

Did you ask him
if he's got any money?

No, nothing to speak of,
I mean, uh...

An armful of cheap wristwatches
looted during the explosion.

Sentimental value, that's all.

I'll pay for it myself.

Ms. Irma, please.

Please let me have him.

Carmen, why?

The world is full of whores.

What it really needs
is a good bookkeeper.

I know, but it's so boring,
other people's index cards.

All I want is an hour off

to wear one of my old costumes.

Oh, Carmen.

That transparent robe

over that nylon thing

with the little
pink sequins on it.

Oh, go on.

Find any pink little thing
you got handy.

Who are you?

- I am Glory.
- I didn't ask for a woman.

You're debasing the whole thing,

you'll make me look ridiculous.

Look at me!

I'm here to make you understand,

not only with your mind
but with your skin.

- But I'm dead.
- Very well.

Consider me
an angel of explanation.

- All right then, how did I die?
- Poisoned!

By cosmopolitan doctors.

And this is my hero's monument?

What about me?
Where will I be preserved?

In a special niche,

with the skin stripped off

and replaced by fine gold leaf.

Gold leaf.

How will the tourists
be able to see?

Huh? Way up there
at the top of the mountain?

Observation platforms

with special telescopes.

Free of charge
on national holidays.

Visitors, yeah.

What about those who don't come?

Children
absorbed in their swings.

Lovers
in their electric rowboats.

Would they lift their eyes?
Will they know me?

It doesn't matter,
the stones know you!

The cement weeps in your memory.

Every thing worships you.

You're embalmed
in the pages of the libraries

and the dust in the stacks,

in the card catalogues.

You are truly immortal.

God, if I could only believe
one single word.

- I'll make you believe.
- How?

By love.

No, no.

Everything's finished.

The street cleaners
are already at work.

Brooms and soap wash away
the blood of heroes.

And what's worst of all
is people saying in the streets,

"The rebellion was wonderful."

They don't mention me.

My name is muttered away
under the gutters.

What in the hell
is the matter with him?

He's disgracing the uniform.

Roger!

Roger!

Roger, where the hell are you?

Good afternoon, Roger.

Hello, Chief.

You can call me George.

Thank you.

Roger, get up.

I don't wanna kill you
in that ridiculous position.

Get the whore out of here,
Roger.

Please go.

There's gonna be blood,
mine or his.

Or both.

You speak very nicely
for a man of your background.

Thank you, sir.

Those idiots,
they'll kill each other.

Nonsense, with what?
Nothing in this house is real,

you know that, Carmen.

Place is not
what it used to be, is it?

No, you're right, sir.

The whole world
is going downhill.

Take revolution, for example.

In the old days,
they used to go on for months.

Give the younger generation
a chance to get ahead.

We should've joined forces
long ago.

We have.

You're right, sir.

The logic of history.

Let's negotiate.

Negotiate in the interest
of national unity.

Unity, sir?

By all means.

Carmen, go upstairs
and ring the alarm.

Girls!

Irma, stop it!

Stop that! Irma!

Irma, they're killing me! Irma!

Girls, don't hurt them,
just strip them!

Strip them down to the skin!

Don't hurt them,
I don't want blood on my floors.

Irma! Irma!

Get off!

My shirt!

Irma, stop it!
They're killing me!

- Stop!
- Nonsense, George!

I don't allow death
in this place.

Please! Police!

Irma! Irma!

Irma, goddamnit,
get us some clothes!

Irma, we want to get out
of this fool's paradise!

Carmen, throw those two buddies
a couple of Turkish towels,

and get 'em out of here.

Do I look decent?

I don't know,
where are you headed?

Secret headquarters, I suppose.

- For that, you're fine.
- Thank you very much.

- What in the hell was that?
- I could ask you

the same question, sir.

Are you working behind my back?

How could I?

It's got nothing to do with me.

Must be some other faction,
left-wing, right-wing,

- I don't know which.
- Of course.

I understand.

Roger, I'm the one man
in this country that appreciates

- these fine distinctions.
- I am aware of that, sir,

and I'm grateful for it.

- Goodnight, Ms. Irma.
- Goodnight, gentlemen.

- Goodnight, Ms. Irma.
- Goodnight!

Goodnight, Ms. Irma.

You can all go home now,

to your own homes,
your own beds,

where you can be sure

everything will be even falser
than it is here.

Go on.