All language subtitles for The.Stigma.2018.PORTUGUESE.1080p.WEBRip.x265-VXT2_English

THE STIGMA
BY MONTEIRO LOBATO

Fausto?

Laurita?

Dead.

And...

your wife? Your children?

The wife, dead as well.

The children, around.

Some married.
The youngest, still with me.

My dear Bruno...

money is not everything in life.

And above all...

nor is it a lightning rod

to save one's head
from the bolts.

But come.

Come in and let us dine.

Then I will tell you my story.

And take pride

in that to you alone

I will speak of the hell

which this Paradise has become.

When Laura became orphaned,

I, as her relative
in the best condition,

brought her in to live with us.

Even as a child,

Laura, in her childish graces,
already gave signs

of the enchanting young girl
she would grow up to be.

Hey there!

-Give it back!
-No!

Young sir is up there,
in the big house.

Is your father home?

-Morning.
-Morning.

Is the owner home?

Please, come in.

Please, sit
and wait just a little while.

-Are you the daughter of...
-No, sir, his cousin.

I have lived here
since my parents died.

-So young, to be orphaned.
-Both father and mother.

I was six when I lost them.
My cousin brought me here to-

Bruno?

Now there's a miracle!

Fausto!

Look from where I dig you out!

How long since
we last saw each other?

Ten years, at least, right?

Ever since
we were robed for graduation.

Then, my dear Bruno,

I'll keep you here.

Please.
You will not depart

without seeing my own
bosom of Abraham

and well making up
for our time apart.

Laurita, my cousin.

We have met.

-Where?
-Here... five minutes ago.

A rascal!

Look, Laura,
tell them to bring us coffee.

A beauty, isn't she?

Beautiful.

So fresh and rosy.

The rosiness is from
standing at the oven.

Have you met my wife?

Leme family,
from Pedra Fria.

I married after graduating,

and came to live here,

spending some months at the farm
and some at the capital.

An excellent life.

One we all long for.

I don't complain.
Nor do I want another.

You have picked
the fruit of happiness, Fausto.

Laura!

I would suppose

you have, with your own hands,
rolled this one.

Which one?
The one with cutter marks?

The ones with marks
are Lucrécia's.

-These ones are mine.
-These ones.

You're too wild
with your advances.

Thank you, Laura.

Come, Bruno.

Come see the livestock.

Best we do that.

Aside from the crops,
there's livestock of all kinds.

You have, my dear friend,
from here the widest view

of our farm.

In the back
you can see the pigsty.

We have also
a small lake with rare fish.

Up the grasslands,
a few heads of Jersey cattle,

which I mean to expand on.

But above all,

my greatest pride
are my horses.

See that mare?

That is my... Herma.

I was newly married

and had erred in marrying.

My wife, she...

You didn't suspect anything
when we dined?

My wife was
viscerally evil.

So?

What say you of this place?

I like it.

Very much.

Then why not take
a few days off the city

and come spend some time
here with us?

That's good whisky.

It is.
Some more?

Now, Bruno,
you can't fool me.

I know you never stopped.

I have to go.

Always worried about the time.

Let me accompany you

in one last walk.

I admit I didn't marry for love.

I was a graduate, and poor.

Before me I saw

the tedium of civil office
or swift victory.

I had no curiosity as to where

that golden path would lead me.

The dowry,
a large one,

was worth...

or seemed to be worth
the sacrifice.

I erred.

"Evil" in a woman says all.

It dismisses further expense

of expression.

When you hear of a woman
that she's evil

ask for no more.

Flee with your every breath.

Laura, are you alright?

I lost my thread.

And all the horror we felt

at the matrimonial leash?

How we would throw injuries
onto the sacred love.

Blessed by the priest.

Blessed by the priest,
noted by the scribe.

Well do you remember.

We are paying for our insults.

Such is life, my dear Bruno.

Above, free theory;

underneath, the iron weave
of the inevitable.

And in marriage?

It's important
that he man yield 50%,

and the woman likewise,

so that there might be
a reasonable equilibrium.

That which is called

marital happiness.

In your case,
have you been happy?

I don't know.

I know I have yielded my fifty.

And hope my wife will follow me
in this act of abnegation.

But she is more tenacious.

Steadfast
in withholding her part.

We are still searching
for equilibrium.

And Laura?

With the experience I have now,

I would have grasped
at the lowest office.

Bruno,

do you know the meaning
of "the Norway side"?

Here's one.

Many leaves, much vigor,

heavy with green,

but not a fruit,
not a flower in sight.

Laura

is like a ray of morning sun

that dances and laughs
in the Norway side of my life.

Have a good trip.

-Give it back!
-No!

Give it back!

If I were to remake Hell,

I would remove the circles
put there by Dante

and instate,
as guardians of the damned,

half a dozen shrews.

All would see
what paradise were,

compared to that, the circles.

The Norway side,

how exact a comparison.

Icy,

as our marital life had become

when we deceived ourselves
and compromised,

striving for impossible balance.

Afterwards,

it became infernal.

Laura,

as she blossomed,
gathered in herself

all the beauty

of body, soul and spirit

as a poet might,
in his dreams, conceive of

and put to verse.

In her were assembled

the beauty of the Devil,

befitting her age,

and the beauty of God,

which is timeless.

The heart,

virgin in love,

could not tame itself

and succumbed.

In the chest
I had thought barren

came to life

the dangerous love
of the thirty years.

Laura

radiated beauty,

happiness and grace.

She gradually became

my reason for being.

All the generosities

and all the courages
of the teenage years

smoldered in my chest.

I was victim
to that worst caste of love.

Secret love.

Dazzled,

I saw, from my confinement,

dawn,

light,
life.

All inaccessible.

Why are you doing this?

Clean it!

Clean it.

I then discovered

a ghastly portion of my soul.

I understood my disgrace.

Months passed.

In the end,

either because
my inner fire betrayed me,

or because jealousy
gave my wife a lynx's sight,

she read all inside me.

As if my heart pulsated

within a crystal chest.

For the first time
since we had married,

I resisted her.

And such was my firmness
as to dismay the lady.

In my eyes I hold

the spiteful smirk

that contorted her mouth then.

And in my soul I bear

the scars from the embers
that leapt from her eyes.

I wrote to some relatives

and was beginning to make
arrangements for Laura, when...

one day
I went out hunting.

Less for the hunt itself

than to find some respite
from my domestic war

in the peace of the woods.

As I got on my horse,

I saw Laura

making her way there

with her sewing basket.

Do you remember

the pine grove

planted near the orchard?

The Azambuja pine,

that was Laura's
favorite roaming place.

She'd retire there with a book

or her sewing,

so as to find solace,

for a moment,
from her domestic hell.

I took longer than usual,

and brought home with me

a wearying meditation.

Father!

-Have you seen Laura?
-Laura?

What of my lady?

My heart pounded violently

and I went searching
for Laurinha.

I asked around the property.

Nobody had seen her.

I remembered the pine

and we made our way there.

We broke through
the dark of night.

Nothing.

I was giving up hope
of finding her

when the foreman,
ahead of me, cried.

There they were.

The small sewing basket

and further ahead,

the girl's body.

Her half-open blouse

showed, in her bosom,

a wound.

A small black hole

from which flowed,

to her ribs,
a fine line of blood.

Beside her lifeless right hand,

my revolver.

Suicide?

I can't tell you my despair.

I forgot the world,

proprieties, everything.

And kissed her longly
in despaired heaves and spasms.

We brought her in arms

and my wife, then pregnant,

refused to see the corpse...

Pregnant?

And Laura

was laid to rest

without, for one moment,

my wife leaving her cloister.

Mark this.

My wife
didn't see the girl's body .

Days later,
she rejoined the human race,

leaving her cell
to return to her usual habits.

Although much changed
in her temper.

As for me,
Laura's suicide,

beyond shaking my organism

like the direst earthquake,

was an enigma.

I never understood that.

Her last words at home.

Her last acts.

Nothing pointed towards

such horrible unraveling.

Why would Laura kill herself?

Why?

How

had she acquired the revolver

that was always kept
in our bedroom?

We inspected her belongings,

but that shed no light on it.

No letter.

No note.

A mystery.

A mystery.

But the months went by

until, one fine day,

my wife gave birth

to a boy.

This time it's a strong boy.

But he was born marked.

Marked?

Has my lady seen this?

I came near the child,

undoing the swaddling clothes

just enough

to see his small chest.

I saw it.

I saw the stigma
that reproduced to exactitude

the wound on Laurinha.

A black core

that imitated the bullet hole.

And the small "serpent".

A slithering line

that wove down his ribs.

Look at this.

See, woman,

see well
that which condemns you.

She sat up from the bed

and, for the first time,

those hard eyes

blurred before
the intensity of my own.

Then,

her body went limp,

falling back onto the pillows,

bested.

A crisis came unto her at night.

The doctors came to her aid,

it was a serious fever.

She obstinately refused
all medication

and died
without saying a word.

Aside from

unconscious ravings
in her delirious moments.

Son,

show Bruno your mark.

How strange they are,

the whims of nature.

The whims of Nemesis.

subtitles
Rafael Brandão