All language subtitles for Night.Across.The.Street.2012.DVDRip.XviD-IGUANA CD02

...here it is.

- Are you that interested in the gun?
- I am, yes,

I'd rather know.

I'd rather know which weapon
I'm going to be killed with.

Why do you say that?

Nobody's going to kill you.

I have it in writing.

I wrote it.

The only one who's going to die
is that weakling.

- Has he arrived yet?
- Yes.

- What does he look like?
- Young.

Nice.

And Nigilda?

Nice.

Does he know?

That they want to kill him?

I think so.

Good.

I'm no good at close range.

Tell me, Don Antenor,

is there anyone who doesn't
want to kill someone?

Apparently.
I know one person.

Myself.

You got me there.

I have to do it.

The opportunity presented itself.

I can't shirk my duty.

But as to actually enjoying it...

I came

to ask you a favor.

Don't do it, Don Antenor.

Gin, please.

I am late?

It's my destiny to wait.

In one low-life bar and gambling
den after another.

Waiting and waiting.

My letters?

Did you get my letters?

Sometimes.

And,

what did you think?

I read them over and over again.

I learnt them by heart.

Then I burnt them.
Always at midday.

With this magnifying glass.

There's always enough
sun around here.

It's better that way.

Then there's no proof.

Proof of what's going to
happen tomorrow,

or the day after.

Or what's already happened.

Don't do it, Don Antenor.

Look,

you see? Read it.

What?

Behind you.

DON'T DO IT ANTENOR

Who wrote that?

How did they know?

Everybody knows.

Everybody?

They just don't believe it.

Does Nigilda know?

But she believes it,

she must be the only one.

I don't know what's wrong
with me recently.

I suddenly got the feeling that
all this has happened already.

What with thinking about it so much,

I get the feeling that it's
already happened

and that it went wrong.

It's all going to be fine,
my darling.

"I hope for you

"that this ill-gotten money
doesn't stain us,

"that it makes us happy
and even happier.

"Together.

"Don't let it be the devil's money,
or money easily lost. "

That's what you wrote to me.

Well?

Haven't you got anything to say?

I was thinking that

in the letter I wrote to you,

and I'm glad that you burnt it,
by the way

when I wrote you that letter,

I didn't know Nigilda.

I had no idea that in
her boarding house

there was a retired man
who'd received some money.

And that to kill him
wouldn't cost anything.

Poor Don Celso.

That's how things are.

We can't change them now.

When?

Monday's a good day.

He knows.

He told me.

He told me.
"You came to kill me," he said.

No,

he says the same thing
to everyone who stays here.

He says they're going to kill him,

and when they leave,
he shrugs his shoulders and sighs.

This time he's right.

He has his suspicions,

but who doesn't?

I have to go, I'm on at 12:00.

Let's see each other later.

I have a client.

I have Nigilda.

Do you have to?

Give and take.

She'll have to do the dirty work.

I couldn't hurt a fly.

She can do it.

And when she finds out?

We'll be far away.

What about him?

He'll be dead

and buried.

And if he follows us?
If he comes back to take revenge?

- The dead can't bite.
- Yes.

Excuse me, are you finished
with the bust, Don Celso?

Yes, thank you.

Excuse me.

I'll leave you the menu.

He could be my uncle,
couldn't he?

Yes.

# My happiest moments of love

# were with you

# Which is why my heart regrets
this sweet adieu...

DO IT

What will you think of me?

That I paid you.

And that I feel less lonely.

But full of hatred.

Do I make you hate?

No,

you're like an aspirin
against the hatred.

What's this?

An army-issue gun.

Will you use it to kill?

The gun is in charge.

That's what they say.

The gun rules.

- And you?
- Me?

I wash my hands of it.

Before you've even done it?

Painful events always precede me.

Shut up!

Just be quiet.

What?

Shut up and sing!

Sing?

At your command, my captain.

Who are you talking to?

To the voice coming out
of the drain pipe.

They say that's what happens.

That when someone's
about to kill,

the voice of the crime
speaks out of the drain pipe.

What a disaster,

nobody's safe here.

# Tormented in my misery

# I think of you and see
what you've been

# Just a good woman

# Your wild existence

# brought warmth into my heart

# You were always good to me
I know that you loved me

# like you loved nobody else

# like you simply cannot love

A four-letter word.

"Love. "

No, that's no good.

Don Celso,

do you walk?

I do.

Every day?

Every morning I come
back to life and I walk.

How far?

As far as a sling shot.

That must be about
a hundred meters.

As far as David's sling shot.

That must be a kilometer,
at the most.

That's not far enough.
You have to walk more.

A four-letter word?

"Adam. "

- Or "damn. "
- No.

Walking makes you strong.

Well, that's life.

When

I go out to walk,

it's for a reason,

a good one.

I bet you go looking for adventures.

Have you finished with
the bust, Don Celso?

Yes, thank you.

Excuse me.

I go out looking for words.

Looking for words?
That's not bad,

but do you find them?

A few.

Once, not long ago,

I found a good one.

What's so good about that one?

Rhododendron.

Rhododendron?
Not bad!

It's a shrub.

It's a fish.

I disagree.

It can't be a fish.

If anything, it's a horse.

Let's play at saying words.

I'll start.

Spring.

Statue.

Armor.

Violet.

Intrigue.

Ermine.

Rhododendron.

Card.

Marble.

I'm exhausted.

Rhododendron.

Be careful, it's got
aftershave in it.

Thank you, boss.

That reminds me of a sonnet
I learnt at school,

"Do not let words decide

"what path a poem takes.

"Let words

"fool themes whose flight

"takes them far.

"Take the word 'cockle'
and shake it,

"and a dance will drizzle from it.

"Cockle, cockled,

"cuckolded crustacean,

"butterflies of uncertainty.

"And if such capricious forms
are forced on you,

"lock them up.

"Black spots of arduous rhymes

"which rhyming, only lie.

"Judicious pleonasms or mottos

"which have light-filled lives

"and dark deaths. "

That's the spirit!

We all have to die someday!

A slow death.

# When you love me

# When I see you smile

# the bells will ring

# and the butterflies will unfurl

# their many-colored wings

# When you love me

# When you say yes...

You?

You startled me.

I was waiting for you.

Are you staying for dinner?

No,

I'm eating out today.

Can I come in?

But...

Thank you.

A four letter-word.

"Wait. "

So this is your room?

I've imagined it so many times,

that I just couldn't wait any longer.

But...

Wait! That's Rhododendron,

he's a fish made out of wood,

but he's laughing.

And these are your famous ships.

They're beautiful.

I did so want you to
show them to me.

They're all different...

I have to go.

And...

Can I stay here?

With the ships?

I promise I won't touch anything.

That's all I needed.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Kiss!

That's the word I was looking for.

Kiss, four letters!

Do you live alone here?

No, with my uncle.

Then,

he's the one who's going to die.

No, he's also dead.

When did he die?

Yesterday. He hanged himself.

He's still hanging there.

He was mad, so he hanged himself.

Do you have any family?

No.

Tomorrow I'm being sent
to a boarding school in Santiago.

I'll probably die there.

Who knows.

Sudden death.

Rhododendron.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen,

Don Celso is leaving us.

He's leaving us.

Well, he's never stopped
leaving us,

despite which, he's been here.

Faithful as a bee.

Loyal as an ant.

Watchful as a hawk.

Although here in body
he gazes at the horizon,

and sees goodness knows what.

Sailing boats.

Sea gulls.

Clouds.

Don Celso is a hard worker.

He is unique in his ability to work
and relax simultaneously,

and I'm sure he will
have a long life.

The many days of leisure
awaiting him will be productive.

I don't know whether
you've noticed,

but the head of this department,
that's me, by the way,

the head of this department

has noticed how Don Celso's hands

busy themselves

with tasks for the future.

Long term tasks.

Our immobile voyager

is lifting anchor and setting sail.

We all wish him a happy journey.

And an even happier
time when he arrives.

I know that many busy years
of doing nothing

await him.

I wish him the best of
luck for this journey

from which he won't come back,

and I hope that this journey

will be an easy one.

Don Celso,

bon voyage!

Don Celso,
so that your words aren't lost

or blown away on the wind,

I have a surprise for you.

Our star typist,
Laurita Petrafie,

has offered

to type up your words,

the words of an active
and modest man.

Ladies and gentlemen,

my life companions.

The stormy sea

and the lucky mermaids
with their unintelligible songs

are the witnesses

to the departure of he
who addresses you.

His is a sad and discrete
setting of sails.

The sails of the golden ship
which carries me.

The dark ship with the golden hull.

The gloomy sailors hurry

about their gloomy tasks.

The wind accompanies us.

You ask,

"What is the name of the ship?"

I'll tell you.

Rhododendron, The Brig.

- Rodo... What?
- Rhododendron!

The name of a flower,

of the brig,

and above all,

the name of a cowardly killer.

It's the name

of the fecund terminator,

of the monstrous friend

who seeks and will kill me.

Has he gone mad?

In the name of Rhododendron,
thank you,

and I offer up

my ashes,

which come from the pure stock
of a sleepy family.

Long live Mallarm�!

Viva!

Our firm has the tradition

of offering its colleagues

who are retiring to a well-deserved rest
after years of work,

a present, a token, a souvenir.

- Don Gural, if you please.
- Thank you, boss.

Excuse me, Don Celso.

Don Celso, our gift to you.

# Water on my land

# flows clean and serene

# Water on my land

# flows clean and serene

# My girl looks at her
eyes in the water

# which flows clean and serene

Come in, come in.

Come in, come in.

Stop!

To the right.

Good.

Stop! To the left.

Very good...

Keep going, keep going.

Stop.

That's it.

Keep going.

Advise me, oh, dream of mine.

What should I do?

How can I summarize in one
glance the virginal absence,

dispersed in this solitude?

"The orphan roamed in
the darkness,

"with his sight
deprived of family. "

Sight, not eyes.

"Vacant" does not mean "empty"

but rather
"deprived of. "

Don't you agree,
Se�or Uliseya?

I'm sorry?

Go on, Calixta Pereira, go head.

Who was Mallarm�? I mean,
what was he like as a person?

What was he like?

He was a teacher.

He taught English in a school.

But above all,

he was what he said he was.

Both a nomad and immobile.

Above all

he was a sad

and spiritual man.

I imagine him

rather like this gentleman here.

Like my friend Don Celso.

Antofagasta.

That word is a treasure.

It's hard to believe.

I'm here because of the name.

Antofagasta.

As soon as I heard that there
was a city with that name,

I packed my bags

and said to my family,

"We're off to Antofagasta
tomorrow. "

My daughter went to the library,

she came back and said,

"I know everything about
Antofagasta

"and there's nothing there. "

So I said, "All the more
reason to go there. "

And the luggage?

It stayed there. In Manosque.

And

your family?

They're still there.

To tell you the truth,

I must be there myself.

Somebody has to write all those
books that they attribute to me.

I liked A King Without Distraction.

It's a terrible translation.

It should be

"The King

"who had nothing
to entertain him. "

Good evening, Don Celso.

Good evening to you, too,

cyclist Ugalde.

How can I amuse you?

How is your niece Alicia?

She passed her literature exams,

top marks.

How about your niece?

She drowned during the holidays.

I'm so sorry.

But tell me, Don Celso,

what do you think

of those new buildings?

What's your impression?

Any criticism?

What buildings are you talking about?
I can't see any.

What, you can't see them!

Now you can.

No, no.

One day those buildings might appear,

but for the time being they don't exist.

Then why can I see them?

For the same reason.

What about now?

No.

Whatever you say, Don Celso.

So there are no buildings
in Antofagasta.

Be patient,

they'll come.

It's you!

Me?

Who are you looking for?

I'm looking for Nigilda, aren't I?

I don't think so.

If she were here, that would be
the last straw, wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it!

- What about Rolo?
- Rhododendron?

He hasn't arrived yet.

I'm waiting for him.

He has to kill me today.

So you're waiting for him.

Of course. As I do every evening.

Really?

- What do you intend to do?
- Do?

What one calls "doing"?

No. It's already done.

- More than done.
- What about me?

Just carry on waiting.

I'm off.

Everyone's gone out.

There's only me left.

That is, if I'm here.

See you later!

God willing!

He is!

Good evening.

Are you leaving?

Tell me

when the money runs out.

So, you're staying.

I thought you'd gone out.

I did, too.

But

here you are.

Here I am.

# Oh, Mary

# Stop singing

# Oh, Mary

# It's time to cry

# Still in love.

Yes.

More than ever.

You don't know how
lucky you are.

Luck?

More like a curse.

I thought you were happy
with your secret lovers.

Even you.

Even me.

That's how it is.

Everyone knew that I was in love.

Everyone except me.

There's even a song about it.

Everyone Except Me.

Passion is like that.

Real passion.

It's born inside and grows
until everyone can see it

except for oneself.

What about mirrors?

Mirrors make me laugh.

They always lie.

No, Nigilda.

Mirrors don't lie.

It's the light that tricks us.

For better

or for worse.

Tonight

is St. John's Eve.

What difference does that make?

Tonight mirrors show
us whatever they like.

Look in the mirror.

I can't see myself.

That's the way it is.

That's the way it is?

That's not me.

I've seen him before somewhere.

That's the way it is.

What do you see?

I can't see anything.

But I'm looking at myself.

Why is there so much blood?

It's a bit much, isn't it?

Far too much.

Far too much for one bullet wound.

Isn't it?

What's happening in this house?

Isn't it?

It's too much,

far too much...

Here I am.

You. Here?

So many years have gone by.

Far too many.

You said it.

And...

What can I offer you?

They say that you make ships
in glass bottles.

Is that true?

It is.

I need one.

What for?

That's where I live.

In a bottle?

On a ship.

The one I had broken.

How did it break?

A bullet.

The same bullet that
killed Dona Nigilda

ended up in my bottle.

Nigilda was killed by a gun?

"The first was for her,
the second for him

"and the third for me. "

That's the song of the two
brothers of the sea-shore.

I like sailing ships.

People can travel in them.

That's what they're for.

I don't need to travel anymore.

Thank goodness, don't you think?

If you say so.

Aren't you dancing tonight?

No.

The bar's closed.

Until further notice.

Because of that crime.

That crime...

It was bound to happen sooner or later.
Wasn't it?

But I feel good here.

Can I stay?

Stay for as long as you like.

Thank you.

I wish everyone were like you.

Right...

I'm going to sleep.

Dream about us.

Thank you.

# I don't want a tomb,
a cross flowers or tears

# Don't cry for me

# Don't pray for me

# All I want is that when I die

# My body is thrown into the sea...

So, that massacre at the
cursed boarding house...

My house?

Call it what you like.

Idle gossip,

that's all.

Nobody's killed anybody.

Don't believe the papers.

So nobody was killed

in the cursed boarding house?

They moved, that's all.

They moved on to the next world.

To where those buildings
are that you say exist.

The ideas you have!

Do you intend to go?

Or will you stay in the
haunted house?

I'd rather be alone
than surrounded by fools.

Monsieur Giono?

Are you there?

Are you there?

Show yourself.

Monsieur Giono!

I was your student.

Show yourself!

Tonight

my favorite historical character

will be Long John Silver.

Nobody knows it

but the famous and
cruel Captain Silver,

the pirate,

was a fantastic story-teller

and told me many stories.

Captain...

What?

Why are you angry with me?

Because you don't listen to me.

Because you're afraid of leaving.

And you're afraid of staying.

I promise it won't happen again.

Really?

Do you really mean that?

Yes, I promise.

Swear by the two brothers
of the sea-shore.

I swear by the brothers
of the sea-shore.

Over there.

Once upon a time, a long time ago,

I told you a story.

Do you remember?

Yes, Captain.

What was the story about?

A man who was retired, who died,
or got killed, something like that.

What do you mean,
something like that?

The old man had some
money hidden away

and someone came to kill him.

He looked everywhere
but couldn't find him

because the old man
had gone out.

Are you sure he'd gone out?

I think so,

but I'm not sure.

Carry on,

let's see how what you
make of this one.

I don't know.

You don't know?

Neither do I.

The man who came to
kill him disappeared

and left the pistol on
the dining room table.

Did that happen,
or did it seem to happen?

I can't remember.

- Or, I don't want to know.
- Go on.

Rhododendron.

Rhododendron.
Here you are.

Where were you?

Where did you go,
Rhododendron?

But you're back now.

Here I am.

Good.

What do I have to do?

Close your eyes.

That's all?

That's all. Close your eyes.

But anyone

can do that.

Well, close them, then.

How strange!

I can't.

You see that it isn't that easy?

It isn't that easy.

Let me help you.

Say the magic word.

Rhododendron.

How's life?

Well, I've just killed myself.

Really?

That's incredible!

It was my time to go.

Life is lent to us, that's all.

We simply follow the leader.

No, Don Celso, I'm in the lead.

I got knocked over by
a bus in Santiago.

That must have been
a long time ago.

Time is like gusts of wind,

like windmills, Don Celso.

What about your niece?

She got knocked over by a bus.

One tragedy after another.

And the radio?

What radio?

Didn't you used to
work at the radio?

No, Don Celso, it hasn't
been invented yet.

- This takes some getting used to.
- You said it.

Fresh bread, fresh bread...

Fresh bread, fresh bread...

Where are they off
to in such a hurry?

They don't exist,
they're from around here.

They live here?

They're the memories
of the pistol,

or rather, of the barrel.

Speaking of which,

is there a good bar for
a shot ofwhiskey?

The things you come
up with, Don Celso.

There aren't any bars here.

A pistol doesn't drink?

But it likes chili peppers
and sunflowers.

That's where we're headed for,

into the sun.

Have a good journey.

They killed me.

I killed myself.

I was going to the boarding house.
To warn you.

I got there too late.

So what shall we do, then?

Let's go back to the
boarding house.

Why?

Because that's where we're from.

True,

that's where we're from.

Spirit...

Are you there?

Show yourself.

What was that?

A seagull.

What was that?

A dog barking at the owls.

There they are!

Are they there?

There's no point.
They're not coming.

Somebody touched me.

Sweetheart...

What was that?

A cat on the roof.

Come on,

they're calling us.

Where are they going?

I don't know.

Into the coming night,

where the others are
waiting for them.

Are they alive or dead?

They're more dead
than we are.

That's a good one!

What was that?

Mice.

No,

frogs.

No.

It's the living who are calling us.

They say distance
makes you forget

Let's go, we don't want
to make them wait.

# I don't believe a word of it

# I'll always be a captive

Let them run, let them run,

don't anybody help them!

Let them come, let them come,

don't anybody stop them.

Let them run, let them run,

don't anybody save them.

That's impossible!

What are they doing here?

Are they who I think they are?

They seem to be.

Beethoven and friends.

The very same?

I imagined them to
be quite different.

Beethoven doesn't
look at all like,

that bust with his name on it.

This must be the
famous Jean Giono,

the one our poor Don Celso

was always talking about.

I knew Long John Silver
in the Peneca.

Who do they think they are?

I invented them,

I created them,

and now they have the nerve
to do as they please

and act however they want.

Is this what it's come to?

Don't let it upset you, Don Celso.
That's how people are these days.

There's no respect anymore.

Are they the ones calling us?

Good God, better to just laugh.

Are you there?

Show yourselves.

No, they won't come.

I can feel them.

I feel them calling to us.

I do, too.

Let's go, before it's too late.

Too late for what?

It's about time!

Welcome!

Better late than never.

I knew they'd come, boss,
which is why I took the liberty

of preparing a speech,

which goes

like this.

Dear victims of fate and destiny.

Those born to fate cannot
escape destiny.

It was our destiny

to wander the ghostly docks
of the northern regions.

It was our fate

to enjoy this destiny.

But one of us

assumed this fate
from the beginning.

He waited for it,

dreamt of it,

called to it.

This bullet

represents that fate.

This bullet,

this swift instrument

of diligent speed,

this instant remedy
for all evil,

and more importantly,

for all good.

This bullet,

I say again and again,

is an epiphany from the depths,

a lyrical fife,

a ferocious drug,

an insatiable devourer.

This bullet

is the crouching toad

who opens the door

to the encroaching night,

and who now swears
before us all.

Bullet,

you slim warning of death,

you alone

deserve to wear its coat of arms
and be its standard-bearer.

You alone

deserve the shadows.

And...

I've lost my train of thought.

Well...

You get my drift.

Excellent speech, Don Gural.

Our deceased would have
appreciated it.

Thank you.

I...

I prepared a few words as well.

Please...

Regale us with your
sweet words.

As you know,

my daily life is punctuated

by a typewriter called Magnolia.

As you know,

Magnolias

love Rhododendrons.

Our now-deceased beloved

was Rhododendron.

And I became Magnolia.

Don Celso

was

and always will be

my only love.

That's all.

It wasn't much.

But they say that the dregs of the mat,
cup never tastes of much.

Speaking of mat,

here is this silver cup.

This cup

which was the pride and joy
of our Celso Barra,

inspired me

to write a song.

# Old cup, the galley slave of love

# venerated reliquary of ideals

# You are the mystery
of flowers in bloom

# old cup, galley slave of love

# Your bulb is the ideal flower

# where the bees suck love

# Serving as an attentive tie

# for the two souls
united in a kiss

# Old silver cup

# venerated reliquary

Cut!

Subtitles: Miriam Heard

Sous-titrage: L.V.T. - Paris