Original subtitles

Marker.

What's the number?

8-C-1. first. marker. end.

Attention. Sound's on. Rolling.

-Camera? -8-E-1. first. Camera.

Marker.

Okay, whenever you want, Julio.

Sound.

Scene 56. plane 3. take 1.

Action!

Next bus leaving at 11:32 am.

Saracuruna via Gramacho platform 12, line M.

Leaving to BeIford Roxo.

''LOVE MOVIE'' Leaving to BeIford Roxo. platform 12, line L...

leaving at 11:10 am.

Boarding only on the first five cars.

WOMAN

-Aren't you gonna have it cut? -Sit down.

-What kind of haircut is this? -l know, It's awful.

l was tired of it. l got the scissors and cut it out.

-There was nobody there. -At the shop?

Yeah.

And you saw that crazy woman who showed up.

-My God! -Did you see her?

l told you.

-What was her name again? -Sueli.

-Sueli! -What a weird woman!

...found out that he is the son of Sueli and Orlando Ribeiro.

-Sueli! -But l knew her, l knew her.

But l liked her. l really did.

-And then? -Nothing. Nothing happened.

-Right! Nothing happened? -l have enough troubles there.

l don't want... What? What?

-Tell us what happened. -No. l won't tell anything.

-l won't tell anything. -Tell your story.

-Gaspar, tell your story. -You guys won't believe the story.

-You just won't believe it. -We're listening. Okay, and then?

You're full of crap!

But it's true! l'm telling you.

Orlando doesn't know.

Orlando doesn't know. Orlando doesn't know.

-He doesn't know! -Only he knows...

But l'm gonna tell him.

-And l'll say it was you. -Get out of here!

You know.

l don't know anything. And you don't know. either.

You do know.

Poor Orlando...

-He is my friend. -And he doesn't know?

No. he doesn't.

-He doesn't? -No.

Today l have for us...

a story that's very risqu�.

A double...

a trouble.

l don't know how to put it.

l'll tell you. so we'll have a better picture.

The languages... we've already talked about that.

Languages, as we know, are not synonyms.

A language is a way to sense the world...

a unique way to sense the world.

By the audible and visible things...

we get to the inaudible and invisible ones.

l have... prepared, cut down a text...

translated it with ancient elegance.

Tasty!

But then, Iater on, l would like to hear something...

rude, childish, perverse.

l am being strangled...

by a...

rhinoceros.

By the skin of a rhinoceros!

And he talks to me.

He says he wants me...

he loves me.

He promises me the world!

He wants to paint my sky...

yellow!

The ace of diamonds...

is a sailor arriving from the East.

Loaded of East...

with many stories, many fantasies.

A feast!

But a suburban feast...

and its images...

we want to be a cascading repetition!

There's a prayer. a beautiful prayer...

by Raphael Cassinos-Assen. which says:

''O Lord. Iet there not be so much Beauty!''

He felt he was surrounded by Beauty.

Crushed by ''Belleza''.

For him. Beauty was easy. It was everywhere.

For him. every moment was a poetic one...

and not only certain moments.

He thought the so called ''rare beauty'' was fake.

l listen, l see.

And what is it l see?

l see Recife, Buarque de Macedo bridge.

l was walking to Agra's house...

haunted by my thin shadow.

l thought about destiny and l feared.

l remember it well...

the bridge was long...

my huge shadow covered the bridge...

like the skin of a rhinoceros...

stretched throughout my life.

''He turns to me and kisses me.

He fingers my cunt to feel, inside it, what he had operated...

and, not knowing what else to do, starts to walk about the room.

Then, he pitifully grabs...

his thing and shakes it before me.

And. finding some of the cream which was on the chimney...

grabs it and says:

'O, Olga, we have something that'll help us a lot'.

At the same time squeezes some in his hand...

and rubs it on his instrument up and down...

to make it more slippery.''

All he had to do was spit on it!

And rub it with his hand.

''Then. he put me in position. on a chair...

and kneeled in front of me...

and the cream helped him get a little deeper inside.

He put me up, and forced me on all fours on the bed...

and. having rubbed it again with the cream...

he attacked me behind.

My dress was, then, rolled over my back...

and making me bend over...

l presented him a nice ass.

This 'new face moved him so much he stopped listening to me.

He forced and pushed me more easily than in the front.

And then, he shook so much the ass and the head...

that he forced his way in.

As he shook back and forth my pleasure intensified...

languid, and not being able to hold onto my hands...

due to the great pleasure l felt...

my arms fainted.

Then l fell on my face, on the bed.

There is no sugar or candy that is sweeter to the mouth.

The stings of delight became...

universal through all my members...

and l fell almost life, less in a syncope.

A body.

Naturalized in ancient times.

Able to enjoy it.

lt's a divine body.

Harpocrates, god of Mystic Silence.

His typical gesture was to close his mouth with his fingers.

He strangled his voice, and with his fingers.

A typical gesture.

lnviting to silence.

The crocodile was idolized by the ancient Egyptians...

for its ''divine silence''.

l remember the first man who seduced me.

l still get excited, to this day, when l think about that hour...

that minute, that second.

Conquered the fiction of scruples, he stood there...

before me, staring at me...

for hours, in silence.

Like a crocodile.

While l lay naked.

Spread wide open!

The water flowing, wet.

l was a yellow-bellied alligator.

And he stared at me until he couldn't see. And he told me:

''The sacred blindness produces the immediate presence of divinity''.

l used to come at that!

This man was my great-uncle.

Hilda's grandfather, her father's father.

With no money...

with no fame...

he lived in his suburban room. poor...

rounded by books and old papers.

He read and wrote all day long.

He read incessantly.

He didn't write to publish, but to help himself think.

Dressed in his threadbare pajamas...

and always with a cigarette in his mouth.

lt was coffee and cigarettes, night and day.

He would tell me repeatedly, with his hoarse, catarrhal voice:

''The reading of certain Renaissance texts...

by Boccaccio and 'll Lasca'...

gives us appetite to leave ourselves open to the epiphanies of sex...

and sexual stimulation.''

He was a true gentle man!

He was over 70 years old.

And l was... twelve.

Matilda, have you ever. in your sleep...

dreamed of killing your husband?

Thousands of times!

Not only sleeping, l have thought about that while l was awake.

But with anger, a cold anger...

in the same situation and acting the opposite...

going the other way...

obtaining. enjoying the same pleasure...

l have wished to do what he so frequently asked me:

to grab a man on the street and take him to my bed...

to give myself to a complete stranger.

For him to see!

The idea, the scene is rather attractive.

A stranger seen by someone who knows you so well.

The white come overflowing the mouth, hatred, anger...

the white drool of the main anger...

Well. the Florence humanists Bruni Palmieri and Policiano Laudino...

dissociate the noble wrath from the ordinary vice...

and celebrate it as a virtue.

By a transmutation of refined spirits...

they turn the horrid acedia...

into noble melancholy.

Love is a war...

the sweetest of all combats!

Between the Moon...

and each one of us...

there is a flow...

a motion of force, of life.

The life of each and every one of us...

depends on the Moon.

And the Moon depends on each one of us.

But in what way each one of us depends on the Moon?

The Moon is the mother of darkness.

lt is a clue an evidence of active darkness.

And we. below the waist we have our being in the darkness.

Below the waist we have no vision.

lt's easy to see.

For every man kills the thing he loves.

To know something alive is to kill it.

You have to kill the thing to know it completely.

For this reason. the desiring conscience. the spirit...

it is a vampire!

Due to the scantiness of the theme...

and the persistent attraction it exerts on so many great artists...

it seems to demand an explanation.

But it's not rare that an apparently insignificant theme...

incites a great master to dwell on it...

for such challenge puts to the test...

his gift of transfiguration.

The while whale Moby Dick...

strangely fantastic, phantasmagoric.

A journey of the soul...

a crew of renegades, pariahs and cannibals.

Three giant harpooners to harpoon the white whale.

Oueequeg...

islander from the South Seas...

tall. strong. covered in tattoos.

He has a small idol called Gogo.

Tashtego, redskin Indian...

who had traded buffalo hunts for whale hunts.

Daggoo, a huge black African...

who had killed a lion using nothing but his own hands.

''Mody Dick'' is the doom of North America.

The doom of what?

''Doom of our white day.

And the doom is in America.

The doom of our white day.

He knew his white soul doomed.

His great white epoch doomed.

Himself doomed.

The idealist doomed.

The spirit doomed.

What, then, is Moby Dick?

He is the deepest blood-being of the white race.''

Look ye, Starbuck...

all visible obiects are but as pasteboard masks.

Some inscrutable yet reasoning thing...

puts forth the molding of their features.

The white whale tasks me...

he heaps me.

Yet he is but a mask.

'Tis the thing behind the mask l chiefly hate...

the malignant thing that has plagued and frightened Man...

since time began.

The thing that mauls and mutilates our race...

not killing us outright. but letting us live on...

with haIf a heart and haIf a lung.

God keep us skippers on.

The ugliest animal on Earth is the white man!

for me. what is right is actually wrong.

And what is wrong is actually right.

What? What are you looking at?

You are... so beautiful.

l want you to take me to the roo...

to the monkeys cage. and throw bananas to me.

Banana-prata, banana-ouro.

You like dogs, don't you?

l do.

But do you like all kinds of dogs?

l do, l like animals.

l had a dog once. He hated me.

One day, he bit me. And l shot it dead!

Well, l am who l am because my dogs know me.

The worst punishment l'll give you is not spanking you

Because l know you enjoy it

There's no one calmer than l am

Nor there's bigger pleasure than seeing you tease me

The worst punishment l'll give you is not spanking you

Because l know you enjoy it

There's no one calmer than l am

Nor there's bigger pleasure than seeing you tease me

Not paying attention to your ill will

Hasn't cost me much

l will sing in verses your perverse instincts

This is yet another punishment l give you

Do you hear me, Shadow?

You're not going to kill the man l love!

l've changed the wiring on my disk to match the wavelength on Dupont!

And it's hanging over your daughter's heart!

The death ray that kills him kills her!

You think you can outwit the Shadow?

Release Jack! Or your daughter will die with him!

You caused the rise of my anger...

you, cowards, through your failure.

Kruger is in the hands of the police.

l live alone, without you

Whom l can't forget for one single moment

l live without love waiting for someone

And this someone doesn't want me

l see time pass me by the winter arrive

just don't see you

If another love should knock at my door

l won't answer

Another night l waited

Another endless night made my suffering worse

from cigarette to cigarette

Staring at the smoke going up in the air

Kruger is weakening.

Watch his light and be warned:

Kruger talked too much.

His light has gone out.

Another night l waited

Another endless night made my suffering worse

from cigarette to cigarette

Staring at the smoke going up in the air

l live alone, without you

Whom l can't forget for one single moment

l live without love

Waiting for someone and this someone doesn't want me

l see time pass me by the winter arrive

Just don't see you

lf another love should knock at my door

l won't answer

l live alone, without you

Bringing together situations that can be brought together.

Dedicated, bright...

sensitive...

rare Hilda!

But haven't you forgotten about Harmony?

Do you remember the problem of Harmony?

From the illicit union of Mars and Venus a child was born...

and she was called Harmony.

Born from the god of Conflict and the goddess of Love...

she inherited from her parents contrary traits.

Harmony is a...

concord discord.

For mixture is the origin of the world...

and her members are made of contrary forces.

l watched a film...

called ''Pleasure''...

where this man this charming man...

asks a beautiful woman in a church:

''Do you find our mayor's face attractive?''

And she answers ''lt depends, l like yours 'better.''

This sounds easy to say. Easy to hear.

But it's not.

Why?

Because pleasure goes away...

but desire always comes back...

and love feeds from it.

The human heart is delirious...

from so much wanting to dehumanize itself!

''The earthly, beautiful and chaste Venus...

a translation from the astral Venus with her golden hair...

the celestial walk emerging from the foam...

real foam. real sea, real shell...

real wind blow.

With her right hand on her hair...

and the left hand covering the sweet apple...

impelled by the wind blow, Ioving Zephyr...

Venus slides over the sea in a huge shell.

The three nymphs. the three Graces greet her..

covering her in a cape, a vestment of stars.

But this episode is just the initial phase of love's metamorphosis...

which unfold in the garden of Venus.

The unity of Venus is unfolded into the trinity of the Graces.

The position of the Graces is defined...

more by the position of their heads...

than of their bodies.

The three Graces are: Beauty, Love and Pleasure.

They are called Abigail, Thalia and Euphrosyne.

They have always been described...

as 'the followers of Venus'.

The golden apple that each of them has in her hand...

is to remind us that they are servants to Venus.

The three Graces are always portrayed nude...

for generosity must be without pomp.

lf the three Graces are entwined it's because they are inseparable...

and more. if they are painted or described one with her back turned...

while the other two face us...

it's because, for every benefit that comes out of us...

we receive two more back.

lt's the triple rhythm of benefit...

which consists of giving, receiving and repaying.

Three diverse actions of liberality.''

Sex must go into some direction.

And the direction is to get out of the darkness...

and into the open air...

into the light, the open sky.

Are you tired?

Tired? Why? No, it's not tiredness.

lt's such an amount of disappointment...

it's a Sunday upside down...

it is, in short a holiday spent in an abyss.

for suffering like what? Yes, like what?

Like what?

lf l only knew!

But l confess: it is tiredness.

What happened? Did you tremble?

lt's my ideas l tremble about.

The ability to think what l feel is what differs me From the ordinary woman.

l am different. You can believe that.

Come on!

lt's too hot. l'm hungry. l want to eat!

What do you want? Chest or haunch?

Married...

good father...

a good friend to his friends...

but do you know what a diabolic man is like?

He is diabolic!

-The devil? -Do you know what he does to me?

He... hypnotizes me.

-My God! -Hypnotizes me!

Hypnotized, he takes me to a circus...

turns me into an acrobat...

makes me climb on a rope...

swings me on a trapeze...

orders me to turn somersaults...

and make contortions.

Legs spread open.

Now, he very much wants me...

to swallow a sword!

-Hypnotized? -Hypnotized!

Very! Very hypnotized.

And... completely naked.

What a danger! the audacity!

Diabolic.

Completely.

Delirium is superior to good judgment...

because, if good judgment is absolutely human...

the origin of delirium is divine.

Astral mysticism.

The noise of the train car almost empty...

and, in front of me right on my face...

a couple without composure.

She was giving him. eagerly...

what the ancient Romans called a ''fellatio''.

Today. just now. after l arrived...

still at the building hall...

after what l had seen on the train l saw another crazy scene.

A woman, on all fours being fucked by two men'...

on the hallway, openly!

Almost on the street for everyone to see!

The three of them were not disturbed by my indiscreet presence.

Afflicted, in a frenzy. l ran upstairs!

l was on fire, in flames.

When l walked into the room l saw a tall, full-blooded boy...

masturbating, in delight, before me.

He crushed, with his hand his vigorous member.

lt was a bonfire l almost died from the heat.

FEMININE

The mouth and the vulva never say ''enough''.

Seneca describes the three Graces in ''De Beneficiis'':

''Why are the Graces three?

Why are they sisters and why are their hands always entwined?

Because every divinity performs their potency though a triadic rhythm.

Says Virgil: 'God is pleased at odd numbers'.

This is explained by the rhythm of the Graces being one of generosity...

which consists of giving, receiving, repaying.

The three phases must be linked like a dance, a chorus...

like people in a circle. with their hands entwined.

For the order of charity says it must go from hand to hand...

and go back to its author.

The triad of the classic symmetry of the three Graces...

says one should be facing us. one. with her back turned...

and one in a lateral movement.

Charitas, Voluptas et Pulchritudo.''

l cast my sight with much clarity over my life...

since my earlier boyhood.

And l know well since how tall my soul has suffered from...

this disposition, this disposition to be somebody else...

to get out of myself.

What is right is wrong.

And what is wrong is right.

Why?

Because right and wrong are the same thing.

...it was, sailor the little fishes in the sea

lt was, it was, sailor it was the little fishes in the sea

Hey, we who have come From another land, another sea

Hey, we who have come From another land, another sea

We have gunpowder, Iead and bullets we want to make war

We have gunpowder, Iead and bullets we want to make war

Who taught me how to swim who taught me how to swim

lt was, sailor it was the little fishes in the sea

lt was, sailor it was the little fishes in the sea

Hey, we who have come From another land

lIf the blue sky

Should get dark

An the joy on Earth wither

l don't care, honey

l will live From our love

lf you are the dream of my days

lf my kisses are all yours

l don't care, honey

The bitter pains

ln this life

A handful of stars l shall pick in Infinity

To lay down at your feet

l don't care about friends Iaughter, beliefs and punishments

Just want

To adore you

lf destiny should make us apart

lf, distant, death should find you

l don't care, honey

for l will die too

When, at last, life is gone

And nothing is left from my dreams

ln a supreme miracle

God will allow me, in Heaven,

To meet you again

You can come.

CAPTlONS BY VlDEOLAR