All language subtitles for Patria 105

EPISODE 5:
"THE SILENT MAN'S COUNTRY"

Hi Joxe Mari.

I thought about writing to you a lot,
and finally made up my mind.

-I had to ask Celeste for help.
-C'mon, Arantxa. C'mon.

-How are you?
-Up we go.

-How do you feel about ETA stopping?
-Her snack?

How do you see it from in there?

I asked Mom to give you a picture
of me now, but she wouldn't.

She says I should wait,

because you're a bit down lately,
and it will depress you to see me.

But I want you to see me
as I am now.

Why should we hide?

I won't fool you, I'm screwed.

I need help for everything,
like a retard.

And I'm sick of pushers,
and advisors,

and feeders,
and of helpful people in general.

What I wouldn't give to be alone again

and not have to put up with
everybody's display of patience

for not doing them the favor
of dying.

-Hello, beautiful.
-I hate the flattery the most.

"Bye, beautiful." "Hi, beautiful."
I hate it.

Hi, Arantxa. You look lovely today.

Ready for the exercises?

One, two and three.

C'mon.

C'mon, you can do it.

I wish you...

Since what happened,
I haven't looked in the mirror.

-Don't cry. Let's not drop her.
-I asked dad to cover them at home.

Not even look in store windows.

What? I can't understand you.

I'd rather be dead than ugly,

-crippled, drooling.
-Look at yourself?

I was so hot, damn it!

Of course, let's go take a look,
you're beautiful.

Come on, come on.

Let's see.

You have your prison
and I have mine.

My body is mine,

I got life imprisonment.

There's another difference
between us.

You're there for what you did.
What have I done to deserve this?

One more thing,

Bittori, Txato's wife,
will write to you.

I would like you to answer her,
she's a good woman.

Mom doesn't need to know.

This is your sister asking,
who remembers you.

Kisses.

-What can I get you?
-Three gin and tonics.

Hi. I'm Guille.

Do you dance the slow ones?

Of course not.

-Are we leaving now?
-Yes, yes.

I hope you're nicer next time.

-Leave me alone. I have a boyfriend.
-That's not true.

-How do you know?
-Nerea told me.

-Are you spying on me?
-Yes.

And I knew you'd get cocky,
but I don't care,

I'm not giving up that easily.

Nerea, we're leaving.

-Bye, Jon, cutie.
-My name is Edu.

-What a fuck up!
-Shut up.

The guy in the striped shirt
said you talked about me.

Yes, Guille. He asked me your name
and if you had a boyfriend.

-I told him you wish you had one.
-You're such a bitch!

I was joking. But seriously...

He's from Rentería. He's dull but
whispers sweetly while slow-dancing.

Really? If he's so good,
why didn't you keep him?

He's not my type. His family
is from a town in Salamanca.

Why is that important?

I don't know, he's okay for dancing.
But for any more,

no.

-Hi.
-Hi.

Come on, Arantxa.

What's with the silly face?
What's up?

I have a boyfriend, Mom.

From town?

From Rentería.

What's his name?

Guillermo.

Guillermo...

-He's not in the Civil Guard, is he?
-No, Mom.

He's an administrative assistant
at the Rentería paper mill.

-Does he have a good salary?
-How would I know? I haven't asked.

Coming.

-I'm leaving.
-Dad...

Yes.

-Okay, okay.
-Dad...

I told mom I have a boyfriend,

we've been dating for a month.

Bring him over and I'll take him
to the society for dinner.

-Does he like cycling?
-No, he doesn't cycle, Dad.

That's okay.

-Guillermo.
-Guillermo what?

Guillermo Hernández Carrizo.

-What?
-Does he speak Basque?

-Not a word.
-Is he pro-independence?

He's not into politics.

Joxe Mari isn't going to like him.

Why not?

GENERAL AMNESTY NOW

But don't freak out.
What you have to do is...

hang out with him in town.

Go to "Arrano". They'll get
used to seeing you together.

You'll meet them soon.

-Hi.
-Hi.

-How are you? Guillermo.
-Hi.

-How are you? Nice to meet you.
-Hi.

-Well...
-Good luck.

Bye.

-They're very nice.
-Hi.

-Hi.
-Stay and have one.

-No, no.
-Come on.

We know it's never just one.
Okay, bye.

-Okay, bye.
-Bye.

Bye.

I'd like to introduce myself.

-Not yet.
-Why not?

Listen to me.
I'll meet your parents first and...

-you'll meet mine after.
-Why is the order important?

What's wrong?
Do you think they won't like me?

-I shave and shower every day.
-Silly!

-Come on, stay a little longer.
-No, I can't.

-It's not so late.
-I have to go, it's very late.

You're so beautiful.

But I still don't get
why you won't introduce me.

When you see my brother's room
and the walls you'll understand.

I have to go.

-I'll call you tomorrow.
-Please.

Goodnight.

Mom.

Mom, are you okay?

Dad.

Ara, Ara. Come here.

What's happened?

Mom saw Joxe Mari at a protest
burning a bus and they argued.

That's why they're upset.

Joxe Mari hit dad.

Shit!

Yeah.

Gorka,

promise me
you won't get into trouble.

What are you going to do?

The same thing you should do, leave.

-Ole, ole and ole!
-Champagne, come on!

-Let the champagne flow.
-Let the champagne flow.

It's my father's.

Take it easy. We know how it goes
when you don't.

-Me too. Pour a bit more.
-Okay, okay.

I'm a man of few words,
as you all know, don't you?

But...

my dear children,

I wish you all the happiness
in the world. I really do.

And Arantxa, welcome to our family.

Well said, Rafa.

-Hurray for the married couple!
-Hurray!

-Hurray!
-Hurray.

-Hurray!
-Careful with the champagne, Grandma,

-your hair might curl up.
-Okay, okay...

Come sit down. Sit down.

"An intimate celebration"...

As if it were a funeral.

Say something. Did you like it?

It was okay. The meat was hard.

Hard? Hard as a rock.
The soup was neither good nor bad.

We've been to better places
and cheaper too.

When things aren't done the proper way,
this happens.

Arantxa seems to be getting along
with her mother-in-law.

Did you notice how she helped her
arrange her napkin...?

And how she wiped the mayonnaise
off her mustache.

Because if that isn't a mustache,
I'm a nun.

Don't start.

You were getting along with our
son-in-law. What was so funny?

Don't start on him too.
He's a piece of cake.

I'm worried
he'll let her take him over.

You seemed to have
a private conversation.

We like sports.

And your sentimental act...

You cried in front of everybody.
You could've gone to the bathroom.

-I was so embarrassed.
-I told you I couldn't help it.

You couldn't help drink cava all day,
I'm not blind.

Don't mix things, okay?
I thought about our son.

A celebration and
no idea of where he is.

We wouldn't need you
talking about Joxe Mari.

I would've thrown a plate at you,
that's right!

I think they're out of place.

Yes, they're nice,
polite and all that,

but you know they're not from here.

The way they speak and move...

They even chew differently.

And get ready to have a grandson
whose last name is Hernandez.

I get stomachache
just thinking about it.

I don't know what we did wrong.

Why did our daughter turn out
so crooked?

Joxian, are you asleep?

As agreed last night: I'll go in
with the gun and you wait outside.

-Can't we flip a coin?
-Fuck no.

I'll do it.
I have to start someday.

Okay, okay.

Here he comes.

Would you mind waiting outside?
It's not open yet.

Don't shoot, just take the money...!

-Any news from Joxe Mari?
-Nothing new.

We have news from Koldo,

he's in Mexico, as a refugee.

He wrote to one of my sisters,
the one in Cordoba.

-Any news from Joxe Mari?
-None.

I don't have news from Joxe Mari,
but I do from the other. Good news.

Gorka won a prize.

Listen. Come, come.

Gorka, my son, won a prize.

He's in the newspaper.
Look, here he is.

"The winner of the literary contest

organized by the Bank of Guipuzcoa

in the Basque poetry category

was Gorka Garmendia",
my son, the youngest,

"with the poem titled
'The mountain's voice',

with a prize of 10,000 pesetas

-and a trophy".
-10,000 pesetas, amazing!

Lock him in the writing room,
you'll be rich.

Shut up.

"The winner said he was
happy and overwhelmed,

and that the prize
encouraged him to keep writing."

Look at his name here. So big, huh?

You know what? Drinks are on you
this afternoon, Garmendia.

Of course, man. Drinks to my son
and to poetry, damn it.

-Of course, damn it!
-Good afternoon.

Hey, Joxian,
just who I wanted to see.

-Why?
-Your son's quite the poet.

Congratulations.

You must be proud.

When I saw the boss
wanting to congratulate me,

it was my grand finale.

Herminio and the rest were amazed.
In awe.

What a watch the boss had.

To be able to buy a thing like that
I'd have to work my whole life.

And you'd have to win
so many prizes, boy.

Are you happy, Mom?

Of course, they all congratulated me:

Juani, Conchi, the fishwife...

It's as if you were the Pope.

Also at the "Pagoeta",
everyone was happy.

It is about time someone envied us.
Fuck yes!

So? What will you do with the money?

-I haven't received it yet.
-But when you do.

I need clothes and shoes.

-Yes?
-Congrats, champion!

I knew you would get it,
I'm so happy for you.

-And Guille too.
-A hug.

-He sends you a hug.
-Thanks. One for him too.

But... But be careful,
don't expose yourself too much.

-I don't understand.
-Just write your stuff

and don't let anyone
take advantage of your talent.

They've all been very nice so far.

I know,

but has anyone in town read the poem
or asked you to read it?

-No.
-Do you see what I mean now?

Yes, I think so. I'll keep it in mind.
Thanks, Arantxa.

-Goodbye.
-Goodbye.

She said congratulations.

Father Serapio said
you should see him right away.

If you go around 5,
he'll be at the sacristy.

-What does he want?
-Well, to congratulate you.

Our people have been
entrepreneurs, adventurous,

brave and devout men,

but unfortunately, us Basques

haven't paid enough attention
to our literature.

God has granted you
talent and vocation.

And I, in his name,
ask you to be disciplined

and to put your abilities
at the service of our nation,

same as your brother Joxe Mari.
Wherever he is,

he's doing it his way.
Do you understand what I'm saying?

Yes.

The Basque language needs to rely
on its own good literature:

novels, theater, poetry, all of it.

It's not enough for kids in schools

for their parents to speak and sing
to them in Basque.

More than ever we need
important writers

to take the language
to its greatest glory.

A Shakespeare, a Cervantes in Basque,

that would be so wonderful.
Can you imagine?

What I mean is that, when you write,

it's the Basque Country who writes.

It's a beautiful mission,
believe me,

and in this moment in our history,
and I'm not exaggerating,

it's a sacred one.

You have my blessing, Gorka.

And if you're ever in need,
doesn't matter what kind,

come visit me.

We'll help you so you can
dedicate yourself completely

to the noble craft of writing.

Thank you.

-Congratulations.
-Thank you very much.

-Congratulations.
-Thank you.

-Congratulations, Gorka.
-Thank you.

Hi Patxi. Three beers,
they're on me today.

-Congratulations.
-Thank you very much.

Gorka, you're making a mistake.

What's wrong?

I hope it's the last time
you speak to a fascist newspaper

and accept money
from an exploiting workers' bank.

This first time can't be fixed.

I hope it doesn't happen again.
The second you can fix.

Exactly 10,000 pesetas
fits in there.

-Fuck!
-Thanks.

-Congrats, poet.
-As I was saying.

I got some gasoline
and made Molotov cocktails.

-What do you have that for?
-What the fuck do you think?!

-I want to take action now.
-Let's hit the Town House.

-I thought the PNV's headquarters.
-No, my father plays cards there.

Shame there's no protest
to burn some policemen.

Let's burn a couple of those fuckers
who come to mess with us at the port.

Keep it down.
How do I have to say it?

Sorry, Patxi.

Don't forget
there's the guy who has the trucks.

-Yes, of course. Yes, yes.
-Not that one.

-Yes, yes.
-No, seriously. Don't. I have to go.

We'll take action
and you can go back to your books.

-You go ahead, I can't go.
-You're leaving, "Hermit"? Damn it!

-What's wrong now?
-"Hermit" isn't coming.

-He says he's pulling out.
-And you're Joxe Mari's brother?

It's not like that,
I have stuff to do.

Wait, boy. In a group,

when you know of a plan,
you don't betray it.

You had your chance.
No one forced you.

Now you're in.
And now get out of here.

Come on.

Come on!

Two for me, because I made them.

-Lower your voice.
-We're burning the trucks?

The trucks?
I'm burning the company down!

Your turn,
I turned the light on for you.

Bastards!

Fuck, he's got a gun!
Run, he'll kill us! Run!

Run!

Motherfuckers!

Hey! What a surprise!

What's up?

Can I stay at yours
for a few days?

Why?

Things are getting complicated
in town.

What do dad and mom say?

I wanted to talk to you first.

-C'mon, let's go inside.
-Let me help you.

We only have one bed, you know.
Our bed.

-I'll sleep on a blanket on the floor.
-Hey...

-Are you running from the police?
-No.

-Are you sure?
-I'm sure.

From the gang, then?

From the gang and others.

If you're staying with us,
Guille has the right to know why.

Of course.

Okay.

If I stay there,
I'll end up like Joxe Mari.

They're pressuring me and say books are
confusing me. They laugh at me.

They've started calling me "Hermit".

Last night was the last straw.

I haven't slept at all
and walked for so many hours.

You have to find a job
and leave town.

I'm trying.
Thanks for letting me stay.

You'll be alright here.

You'll find work in San Sebastian.

Are you writing anything new now?

Yes, I just started working
on a short story last week.

-About what?
-About pirates.

-Pirates?
-Yes.

That will all be 900 pesetas.

Thanks.

-That's it. Thanks.
-Okay, bye.

"CHALKS"
ARTXERRI GALLERY

-It was great.
-It was very funny, yes.

I couldn't understand a thing,
remember?

-I have to go.
-Okay, okay.

Your favorite? Good choice.

-Is it? I don't know.
-Yes.

But the title's misspelt, see?
It says "Kompozisiva"

and it should be "Komposiziva".
The Z and S are mixed up.

Do you work for
the Language Academy or something?

I'm Ramuntxo, from Basque Radio.

-Hi.
-I'm reporting on the exhibit.

-Gorka. From the "Donosti" book shop.
-Yes.

-The book shop close by.
-Yes, I know the place.

-Yes, of course you do.
-Yes.

-Do you like it?
-I do.

I don't know much about art, but...

Do we keep looking for misspellings
or get a drink at the bar?

Drinks are on me.

I'd love to, but I have to
catch a bus in 15 minutes

and I still haven't seen
the exhibit yet.

-Okay, so...
-Okay, a quick one.

-C'mon.
-Yeah.

This way.

-There's live music.
-Really?

-Jazz music.
-Wow!

-Do you like it?
-Yes, well...

Not today, but...
they normally have live music.

People I didn't know
started to say hi to me.

It seemed like
I had written five books or...

I had to write like,
I don't know...

I was more at peace in my room
than on the street.

I ended up leaving town

and got a job here,
at the "Donosti" bookshop.

-I already said that, didn't I?
-Yes.

Besides all that,
I do a bit of everything:

I write back covers, pamphlets,

translations too.
The Basque language saved my life.

But what did you study?

Nothing.

I couldn't go to college.

There's never been much money
at my house.

And... a publisher accepted

one of my children's books:
"The Blue Pirate Ship".

The title isn't mine. Can you believe
they changed it without asking me?

Don't worry about it,
you're getting published.

That's my consolation.

Shit, I just missed the last bus.

I can take you, I have a car.

Well... you'd do me a big favor.

But now it's your turn to talk,
I'm the only one talking so far.

-Come on.
-Coming.

-A light, get it?
-Yes.

And then...

-Should we go?
-Yes, let's go.

I studied a degree in college
and that's where I met my wife.

We dated for a year or so,

then I got married

and got divorced when I accepted
I wasn't really into women.

I have a daughter, Amaia.

So now, you live in Bilbao?
I've never been.

You've never been?
It's only an hour away.

I've not been anywhere really.
Only my town and San Sebastian.

We have to fix that.

Why don't you come this weekend?
You can stay at my place.

The first one on the right,
I live here with my sister.

You really helped me out
giving me a ride. Thank you.

You're welcome.

Garmendia, another letter.

New girlfriend or what?

Jose Mari, it's Bittori.
You know who.

I don't want to bother you,
I'm free of hatred, believe me.

Why this letter?

I'd like to know every possible detail
about my husband's death.

I don't think I'll live much longer

and I'd appreciate it if
you told me how Txato died

before I'm in my own grave.
Especially who shot him.

I know you were involved.

I need to know, that's all.

The carrier
Jesús María Lertxundi, 58,

was shot dead this afternoon
by two alleged members of ETA

who fled in a Ford Escort
which waited for them nearby.

The events occurred around 4 p.m.
when Jesús María Lertxundi,

owner of the company Txato Carriers,

was on his way to his car
parked in a garage

a few feet away from his house.
According to sources...

You knew him?

He and my father
were lifelong friends,

although, according to my sister,
they weren't talking lately.

This has to be a mistake.

They must've killed the wrong guy.

Do you want us to go this weekend?

No. It's best if we don't.

Ramontxu.

Let's talk later.

Let's look at the cultural line-up.

The band from Barcelona
"El ultimo de la Fila" will be playing

at next month's concert...

Yes. Yes.

Fine, fine. Bye.

-Hello?
-Hi, Dad. It's me.

Oh, Gorka. Mom isn't home.

She went to the square, to a protest
in favor of the amnesty.

-Now, after what happened?
-I told her: "You're mad,

it's pouring with rain."

But... she's got the fighting fever

-and no one can stop her.
-Yeah.

I don't want to leave the house.

It's pouring, and my rheumatism...

And I don't want to see anyone.

Dad, where did they kill him?

On the bridge, next to his house.

Like they were waiting for him.

-You didn't hang out anymore, right?
-How do you know?

I talk to my friends in town, Dad.

And with Arantxa.

Yes, her also.

Listen,
I'd go pay my respects to Bittori...

but, you know, your mother...

Couldn't you write to her from Bilbao?

One of those postcards.

Sign it "Gorka and family."

Why don't you do it?

You don't need to look at her.
Sign it "Joxian and family".

Why won't you write two lines?
It's just a small favor, c'mon...

Okay, I'll see. Take care, dad.

Hello. ETA's brutality
has hit all of us again.

A new attack and a new death is added to
the heartless' victim list.

His name was Jesús María Lertxundi,
58, a businessman...

So, are you going to write to her?

-To Bittori?
-Yes.

-Of course not.
-...shot down...

Although, if I have to,
I'll tell my father I did.

He can't check anyway.

Why are you acting like this?

Because I'm a coward.

Exactly.

I'm a coward, just as my father is

and so many others in town
that will be saying,

"What a brutal thing to do.

This isn't the way to build a nation.
Poor Txato."

Yes, poor Txato,
but no one will do anything.

They've probably cleaned the blood away
with a hose by now to leave no trace.

Yes, tomorrow you'll hear whispers...

but deep down, nothing's changed.

People will go to the protests
in favor of ETA to be seen,

to be able to live peacefully
in this silenced country.

Until the next victim turns up.

But by what right
can I blame anyone...

if I'm exactly the same?

The same.

The car's loaded.

The water and gas are turned off.
Whenever you're ready.

Wait a bit.

Since you're pulling me out by force,
let him stay and take care of it.

Bye, Txato.

Mom, don't let hatred make us bitter.

Okay, let's go sing and dance.

Please...

Let us try,
so the things that happened...

No, this didn't happen,
they did this to us.

Well, I'll get the mail and we're off.

What did he want? Pay his respects?

To know when the factory reopens
and he can go back to work.

Didn't he hear his friends killed
the owner a month ago, or what?

Josu says we can always transfer
the company to the workers.

Never! How could he?

He says it's a solution.

I'd rather throw it all in the trash.

The amount of strikes they did
to your father. No way!

-We have to do something.
-Not that.

I won't let Andoni, who did
nothing for your father,

keep the company.

Not for all the gold in the world.

The others are the same.

Good people and all,
but they haven't shown any sympathy.

Or compassion.

Or paid their respects or
come to the funeral, nothing.

If you and your sister
keep the company,

I'm warning you, they will kill you,
like your father.

Besides,
that company was a part of Txato.

And it's over,
because he's over, and that's it.

Nerea got here from Zaragoza
yesterday and slept at my place.

She's waiting for us at the house
in San Sebastian.

She's nervous about seeing you.

-Hi Nerea.
-Hi.

Hi, Mom.

Is this the door?

Come in.

Mom, look at the view.

This must've cost your father
a fortune.

Not at all. The owners had been
trying to sell it for a while.

You'll be at ease here and
you won't have to see the graffiti.

We could sell the other house.

The house in our hometown
won't be sold while I'm alive.

Later, when I'm dead,
you can do whatever you want.

-I've left dad's boxes there.
-Okay.

The keys.

Mom...

look what we brought, Mom.
You'll love it.

Black.
Didn't they have another color?

Her name is Coal.

-She'll keep you company.
-No.

Your father kept me company.

Leave her on the floor.

And get out. I want to be alone
to arrange everything.

-Oh, Mom, in a box...
-Stop it.

-But you knew that...?
-I already said I didn't.

Okay.

-Mom...
-You better not say anything.

C'mon, leave.

Out!

Damn it! It's heavy.

My gangster...

I've spoken with Joxe Mari.
Why did you send him pictures?

Do you want him to be depressed?
Yes, "leave me alone"...

He said he answered you.
I don't know what, but he did.

I said not to talk with the crazy woman.

What? Do I speak Chinese?

And you, if I ask not to take her,
why don't you obey?

Is she paying you?

Mrs. Miren,

if you're not satisfied with my work,
you can let me go.

I love your daughter deeply,
you know.

And my heart breaks when I see
she's upset or suffering...

If your heart breaks so much,
don't come back!

I'll find another one, a better one.
Get your things and go home.

Shut up. Okay, okay, okay.

TELL HER TO STAY NOW!

Celeste,

forgive me.

Forgive me for all I've said,
I don't know what came over me.

You're all driving me nuts.

Leave that.

Take her out, I'll pick that up.

I thought you weren't coming.

We stayed at the house a bit longer,
something came up.

Miren scolded me and...

She doesn't like
that you're seeing Arantxa.

"Fuck her"?
No, don't say that, Arantxa.

Listen.

Joxe Mari answered.

"Bittori, I'll be brief.

I don't regret what I did,

I'm still in ETA
and I hope for an independent,

socialist and patriotic
Basque Country.

It's the last time I'll answer you,

please don't write to me anymore.

Please don't approach my family
either. Goodbye."

What do you think?

DON'T WORRY,
I'LL MAKE HIM APOLOGIZE

Well...

"Write to him,

I'll write to him again also."
Yes? You think so?

GIVE ME A STROLL AROUND
THE SQUARE

Me?

Let's go.