All language subtitles for Desterro.2020.PORTUGU

This film was made possible by Brazilian
public policies active from 2003 to 2016,

focusing on diversity,
income distribution and decentralization,

and investments in the population's
working conditions and dignity.

WE ARE THE SAME

It started all of a sudden, didn't it?

The rain.

Coffee?

Tea.

More water, then.

This door has seen better days.

Needs some oil.

Regular cooking oil will do.

Some days it feels like
water takes longer to boil.

It's the amount.

No.

That's not it.

Some days feel like it takes longer.

It's not because of the amount?

No.

Can I pour?

I'm trying Pedro's technique.

You make a hole
in the middle of the grounds.

Fill with water
only up to the top at first.

Wait.

And only then add the remaining water.

Is it working yet?

No.

Did Lucas leave okay?

He did.

I think he's making friends
on the school bus.

And after that tantrum yesterday…

When he saw the bus,
he ran right to it, shouting goodbye.

He cried so much yesterday
at summer being over.

I don't know if that's normal, you know?

Crying so much just because
something is ending.

He refused to eat papaya again, right?

He needs it for regularity.

Poop.

Did you try?

Regularizing poop is funny.

Did you try?

I tried.

But you know he doesn't like it.

Sunday we have lunch at my parents'.

Sunday?

Uh-huh.

Apparently,
Marta's going on honeymoon again.

What?

Apparently,
Marta's going on honeymoon again.

Honeymoon?

Yeah.

A second honeymoon.

Her first one wasn't that long ago.

Usually that happens, I don't know,
like, ten years later?

Why have this honeymoon?

I don't know, Israel.

Ask her on Sunday.

What it's called.

I don't know why
they'd call it a honeymoon.

People are so weird.

Is it wrong to call it a honeymoon?

I don't know.

It's just two people traveling.

So…

If we travel, is it a honeymoon?

No, because of Lucas.

What if we leave Lucas with someone?

Leave him with your mom and take a trip.

If we want to, we can call it a honeymoon.

Sure we can.

But what does it matter?

Exactly.

What does it matter?

Your parents would like it.

If we called it a honeymoon,
it'd be like we got married.

They'd like that.

We could do that.

They might stop asking.

We could go to Santos.

We can throw a party
for your work friends.

For New Year's.

And say it was our wedding reception.

And that we forgot to invite them.

We'll take some photos.

Take a bus.

Or what they did in that bad movie.

Keep taking photos of us
in different places.

Pretend we traveled around the world.

Edit ourselves in.

But that movie wasn't bad.

Wow, I thought it was awful.

That character was so boring.

We haven't gone to the movies in ages.

Well, I gotta go.

The French guys are losing it
over a premiere we have tomorrow.

I told you, right?

The play's props were held up in customs,
and with no time to rehearse…

Do you work today?

I have a meeting.

Okay, so I'll pick up Lucas.

If anything changes, I'll let you know.

EXIT

Funny, huh, what we think after the fact?

There was…

There was this time that…

That I won a prize.

A prize for something I wrote,

and…

Israel was in the running too.

And I really never thought I'd win.

I sent it in, and the result hadn't been
officially published yet,

but the…

The curator called
each of the three winners.

He texted me.

I was already awake.

It was on a weekend, and I woke up early,

saw that I won, I couldn't believe it,

and immediately felt terrible
that I had won and not, you know--

So I--

He was still asleep, and I went out,
and pretended nothing had happened.

So I went running,

and he called me.

And I already knew.

He said, "Laura, have--

Laura, have you heard?"

So I said, "No! What?"

No, please be the spokesman
for my wonderful news!

Have fun giving me the news.

And then later I thought,
"Why did I do that?"

Yeah.

But we…

We adapt, you know?

This one time, I was flying to Portugal,
and I was doing a favor too,

like that one, and this friend of my mom's
had come to Brazil.

He was from Portugal.

And he'd bought some old theater chairs
made of wood.

I don't know. Some hipster decor thing.

But he'd left them here
because he'd left with too much luggage.

And since I was flying there,
he asked me to bring them.

I said, "Piece of cake."
My mom packed them up,

wrapped them in airline blankets
to ship them,

and I got to Portugal
and had to go through customs.

They didn't need to be declared, you know?

Like, they weren't valuable, you know?

But the customs guy was suspicious.

Of the chairs.

And he kept doing this thing, like,

he didn't want me to, like, pay anything.

I think he just wanted to mess with me.

'Cause he kept saying,

"So you've brought your mommy's
friend's little wooden chairs."

So I said, "Yes."

"I've brought my mom's friend's
wooden chairs."

"Mommy's friend went to Brazil,

bought some little wooden chairs,
and asked you to bring them."

I said, "Yes. Blah, blah, blah."

And he goes, "Your mommy's friend's
little chairs are made of wood?"

He reworded the same sentence.

So many times!

And I started worrying
that he might confiscate them!

But in the end, he said, "You can go."

And I was, like,

"Okay, I just want to get out of here!"

Like--

It was so absurd, you know?

And I went and delivered
the little wooden chairs

to my mommy's friend.

I don't know if
it's just because he's Portuguese.

Like a cultural thing.

-What?
-I don't know. The way he acted.

If he was just messing with me,
something he personally liked to do,

or if it was, like, you know how
in Portugal they're really literal?

So he was…

-Trying to understand.
-What was happening.

That's it, and deep down,
you look at people, and everyone's…

-Everyone's identical--
-Everyone's playing their role.

-Yeah!
-Right?

And that's it. Just playing their role.

Almost as if
only the roles actually existed.

Yeah.

The guy at the door.

The guy at customs.

Us, transiting through.

The train stopped today.

Long before the station. So weird.

I was so worried.

We were almost there, but the train
was just barely out of reach.

So what?

The subway has escape routes everywhere.

I don't know. It gave me goose bumps.

I don't like the subway.

So many people inside a hole.

Me neither. I prefer the bus.

The bus has traffic.

It's only good for slackers like you two.

Pablo and I
decided to honeymoon in the US.

What's so interesting
about going to the US?

Stop being annoying, Pilar.

The US is probably amazing.

And you, Laura?

Dad, every Sunday you ask the same thing.
You need to accept it.

Pilar really has it coming.

That's what I want to see, Afonso.

Eat up, honey! You're so thin.

-Doesn't he feed you?
-You're talking to Marta, right, Mom?

Sheesh.

Leave her alone. That's how
she's always been, you know that.

Don't you know them?

Afonso and Mirtes.

When I got married, they're lucky
Pablo wanted to marry too.

They used to make my life hell.

Yeah, but it's outrageous
that it wasn't in a church, you know?

My God, you guys. You're so annoying!

Really!

You're lucky to have such great daughters.

And enlightened!

Where's Lucas?

Around here with Israel.

Wow!

Israel's decided to come.

He's really working hard at this!

Mom.

You're walking
in front of the TV all the time.

Sit down. We'll help you
set the table in a minute.

Oh, I know how long your "minute" takes.

Sit, Mom. Come on.

I'll help you later.

Has Lucas gone?

Yeah.

-Was he okay?
-Yes.

You can leave that there.
Christina's coming today.

-Today?
-Yeah.

I didn't know that.

She called last night.

Asked to switch days.

I forgot to tell you.

Well, then.

I'll leave some laundry for her.

I have to leave early today.

Start making your sandwich.

I'll sort the laundry later.

Want coffee?

Tea.

I had a weird dream last night.

Still trying Pedro's technique?

Yeah.

It doesn't work.

I must be doing something wrong.

I don't remember my dream.

You never remember your dreams.

Sometimes I remember.

-Ow! You burned me.
-Sorry.

You know they say if you eat yogurt
every day, your stomach won't hurt?

Must be nice

to not have a stomachache, huh?

My stomach doesn't hurt.

Is it nice?

Yeah.

When you don't have something,
you don't think, "It's nice. Good."

"Wow, great. No stomachache this morning."

Only if you've had a stomachache.

On the previous day.

Then you'd think that.

I'd never thought about that.

If tomorrow I wake up
without a stomachache, I'll think,

"How nice.

No stomachache this morning."

Sometimes something bothers you,
and you don't even know.

Only after it passes.

Want some papaya?

I read in the paper
that a comet is passing very close by.

Today?

Tonight.

If it changes course, we'll all explode.

What?

If it changes course, we'll all explode.

But they calculate that.

Years in advance.

They calculate the weather forecast too.

It's always wrong.

That's different.

-Want me to clean out the seeds?
-No, thanks.

Sometimes you seem to want
the end of the world.

Did you want to see that?

I didn't want to see it, but…

if I were here and it ended,

I think I would.

Can you imagine?

A giant wave approaching?

And you know the world's ending.

It must feel quite unique.

It must feel awful.

I'd rather be sleeping.

If I have to die,
I'd rather it be in my sleep.

You'd rather see death arrive?

Depends on how I die.

I just don't want to drown.

I'd rather not know.

That's dumb, Israel.

-It's always better to know.
-No. You'll be calmer if you don't know.

Could you set that there, please?

I don't get why you'd want to see
the wave coming.

I think it must feel quite unique.

So I want to feel it.

It's different from knowing I have cancer

and waiting to die.

Understand?

It's different.

It must be over in seconds,
so I want to feel it.

You say that because it sounds romantic.

Adventurous.

But when you see the wave approaching…

You're already dead.

In practice, seeing it approach…

There's no time to even think
what you're thinking.

In practice, seeing the wave approach…

If Earth exploded,

and you could see it explode,
wouldn't you want to see that?

No. It's not something I can help fix.

I don't want to look.

I only want to look if I can do something.

What time is it?

8:30.

I'm heading out.

Letícia?

I don't believe it!

Oh, wow!

It's been so long!

-My God!
-I miss you so much.

What a coincidence.

You know,

this morning, at home, when I woke up,

I felt a pain in my chest.

I thought something was wrong.

Low blood sugar.

You know that sometimes I have
low blood sugar at night and wake up.

So I measured my blood sugar,
and that wasn't it,

but I got up,
and I think I was looking for you.

I mean,
I know I was looking for you, Letícia.

As if we still lived together.

So…

I--

I felt so much chest pain,
your absence hit so hard,

it felt like something
I could never recover from.

You understand, right?

I felt that the day we met, you know?

I was sure we'd have a life together.

You sure have a way with words.

You were so awkward around me.

The chemistry between us
was so uncontrollable.

I looked at you, and you were beautiful,

beautiful…

and I thought I wanted to
spend my life with you.

Can you believe that?

Sounds like a lie,
sounds like a cliché,

but it's true.

You've never told me that.

Well, I imagine
that's no longer important.

The imminent end no longer hurts.

We're free of that.

Yeah.

-It doesn't hurt, but…
-We…

Do you remember?

Remember that awful party where we met?

What a depressing party!

That guy wearing briefs and socks!

Who was that girl
who wanted to seduce him?

I think it was Paula.

Yeah. Poor girl, she was so drunk.

And he kept dancing
in nothing but briefs and socks.

My God, what a party!

And we ran away!

I slipped on those wet stairs.

You tried to catch me.

And you fell too!

That's my stop. I have to go.

Nice to see you.

-Yeah.
-Yeah.

-Let's meet up, yeah?
-Yeah. Bye. See you.

See, Mom, I'm a grown-up!

Did you know when we kick a water balloon,
our leg turns to water?

Really?

-Who told you?
-My teacher.

Gotta keep our eyes on these balls, then.

You ever think you should have
done it all differently?

Constantly.

I've been feeling things.

Yeah.

The air's very dry.

That's not it.

But you're here, aren't you?

I think so.

So everything will work out.

Folks, it's time for "Happy Birthday."

Nice! Let's go.

Happy birthday!
Let's sing "Happy Birthday."

The candles. Hang on…

…left the location.

Soon after,
workers noticed their employer's house

was in flames,
and he was inside, screaming for help.

Ambulance and fire crews were called.

The victim was rushed
to the hospital, but didn't make it.

The family has no doubt
she perpetrated this crime.

She perpetrated this crime.

Police say
the primary suspect is his wife.

She allegedly set fire to the house
after an argument about money.

The victim's friends say

she had already tried
to kill him with a firearm.

Ilza is currently a fugitive.

George says the couple argued constantly.

It was a premeditated crime.

What exactly happened that could lead her
to do that, no one knows.

The business is closed due to bereavement.

This afternoon, many friends and relatives
visited the location

to give support
to the family's two daughters,

who are in shock at their father's death.

They did not allow the press to enter.

Hi.

Wait, who's speaking? Who's speaking?

LAURA'S BODY

Petey, time to go.

Mom, can Lucas sleep over?

I promised I'd show him my cars.

It's up to Lucas's dad.

Dad, can I, please?

Some other day, okay, Son?

-Bye.
-Bye.

-See you.
-All right.

And how's Laura? Is she all right?

My mom's on a business trip.

Lucas. Son.

Son, wake up. Hey, Son, wake up.
Everything's okay.

It was a nightmare. Hey.
I'll give you something to eat.

Come here.

I don't want to eat.

You have to eat to go back to sleep.
You have class soon.

So your wife is missing.

She--

Yes, she's dead.

Dead?

Were you married?

Yes.

Not on paper,
but we've lived together for eight years.

My wife Laura
went on a trip and died.

And this man, Julio,

called me.

He has her body.

He said she wasn't feeling well,
and he left the bus with her to help her.

And who is this Julio to your wife?

I don't know.
She's never mentioned anything.

Where was this?

Argentina.

I'll try to help you,
but be aware, this type of thing--

I mean, it's handled by the consulate.

There might not be much I can do for you.

You said she did in fact cross the…

-I mean, the border?
-She died over there.

Yeah, it really is
up to the consulate, yeah.

Do you know if Laura had repatriation
or any kind of insurance?

She had a private health plan.

Her family paid for it.

Because of our son.

So look into that. Look into it.

It may quite possibly cost a small fortune
to bring her body back.

You'll have to go there to ID the body.

Without an ID, you can't move forward.

How much is a small fortune?

Oh, I really don't know precisely,
because it's not my department, you know?

But I'll give you a--

A card.

For a funeral home.

Call them, and they'll help you out
with everything.

Any ballpark idea?

Something like 30,000.

Can't the government pay for this?

The family is responsible
for transportation and any expenses.

You told me you have
no direct relationship with her, right?

That you weren't married on paper?

Right.

To take care of this, you'll need
a common-law marriage contract.

And, look, that I can help you with.

I've lost my ID.

I was mugged.
I've already requested a new one.

-Do you think this can be a problem?
-Not right now.

First, contact the funeral home
on that card.

Gather paperwork for your bills together,
and separately,

but living in the same house.

You said you have a son, right?

His birth certificate
will also help a lot.

And then call Daniela, my secretary,
and we'll take it from there.

Thanks.

Israel.

Relax.

Everything will be okay.

Israel!

Have a seat, Son.

What happened?

Lucas said Laura had to travel suddenly?

It wasn't sudden.

-Want to eat something?
-No. Thanks.

-Dad, can I pay the bill so we can leave?
-I'll pay.

He likes to go pay.

Then go and pay for Grandma.

What's going on?

What do you mean?

You won't answer me!

I've told you I need to urgently give you
the paperwork for the house.

I'm going to Paris next month,
and I don't like to rush things.

You know that.

I can go to your house with you.

And help Lucas.

Until Laura comes back.

No need, Mom.

Come on, Son.

-We haven't seen each other in so long.
-Some other day.

-I'm just trying to help.
-That's impossible with you.

Cut the drama, Israel.

I want to make amends.

Some other time. We need to go.

Lucas's homework. I have to make dinner.

-But he's already eaten.
-There's more to do.

-You keep that.
-Bye, Mom.

Bye, Lucas.

Bye.

Dad, is Grandma all right?

Grandma's always all right, Son.

You don't need to worry.

She said she's old,
and you won't let her visit us.

And how was school today?

Dad, is Grandma going to die?

What do you mean?

She said she's gonna.

Yeah.

Someday she will.

Mr. Israel Vaisman?

Yes?

Mr. Vaisman, sadly,
we could not issue your ID card.

What do you mean?

They said everything was okay.

Yes, but sadly, it wasn't possible.

You'll have to resubmit your request.

No.

I've already paid, done everything.

I want to know what happened.

One moment, Mr. Vaisman.

Look, I found out
that it's because of the photo.

You were smiling on the photo.

And you can't smile on your photo ID.

But the good news is
I talked to my supervisor,

and you can take another photo
at the booth there and give it to me,

and we'll resubmit it for you
without having to start over.

And where's the booth?

There on the right.

And no need to wait in line again.
Just walk up here.

And her insurance was expired.

Her parents hadn't paid in
over three months for financial reasons,

and it was canceled.

Family can be complicated.

Did you bring the paperwork?

Proof of address.

Lucas's birth certificate.

We never had a joint bank account.

Is this proof enough?

It should be enough.

You've already called the consulate.

If you want, there's a funeral home
we have an agreement with here in Brazil.

Augusto will speak with you outside.

Augusto?

We have a death with repatriation here.

Yeah. Israel.

He'll be right with you.

Well, now you need to speak
with the funeral homes.

You have a date for when you'll be
in Argentina to ID the body?

We'll be in touch.

Get some rest.

The first step is contacting
the Brazilian consulate in Argentina.

The consulate hires a funeral service
for you, but only after ID'ing the body.

Until then, the body stays
in a morgue, in the fridge.

A direct relative, no exceptions,

so a father, mother, siblings, husband,
wife, children, comes to ID the body.

They'll autopsy the body to rule out
murder and skip the investigation,

but until you ID the body,
the cops will be there.

You need to hire a lawyer here
to prove you're her husband,

since you're not legally married.

There are two stages.

One. Once you hire the funeral home,

they'll handle all the paperwork,
including the consulate and police,

and prepare the body,
which will probably be embalmed.

From there, they'll take the body by land
from Paso de los Libres to São Paulo.

You can't bring the body yourself.

Once here, you'll hire
a Brazilian funeral home

to bury her body
in a cemetery, public or private.

She can be buried or cremated.

Two. After hiring the funeral home,

it'll handle all the paperwork
with the consulate and police

and prepare the body,
which will probably be embalmed.

They'll send the body by land
from Buenos Aires to Porto Alegre,

and from there by plane to São Paulo.

In this case, the funeral home
only goes to the airport

and handles all the bureaucracy.

You'll take the same flight,
but the Brazilian funeral home

you've already hired will handle customs.

You can't fly alone with the body.

Here, bury the body
in a public or private cemetery.

She can be buried or cremated.

There's a transportation document
valid in every country.

It's called a laissez-passer.

The death certificate
is issued in Argentina

and accredited by the consulate.

So it's valid here too.

If there are no problems,

everything will be sorted
in two days at most.

It's important to mention that dead bodies
start rotting after 24 hours.

When embalmed,
it can be refrigerated for up to a year.

For legal reasons,
nothing can start until the body is ID'd.

We advise the direct relative
to go there immediately.

If you don't have insurance, the family
will pay the funeral home directly.

So the body can only be moved
after payment.

If you take too long, they'll
refrigerate it. Rent is 200 reais per day.

Land transport from Paso de los Libres
to São Paulo is 7,000 reais.

Preparing the body, paperwork,
coffin and transportation.

Air freight is charged by weight.
Laura's 60 kg, plus 35 kg for the coffin:

17,000 reais.

Burial at a public cemetery
plus fees: 500 reais.

This fee includes a wake
and three-year rental of a tomb.

Then the body is exhumed
and sent to a public ossuary.

Or skip the burial and just have
a wake and cremation: 250 reais.

Burial at a private cemetery: 4,000 reais.

A wake, a tomb and/or cremation.

Tombs aren't rented, they are eternal.

If there are no problems,
everything is sorted out in 48 hours.

But the body's only released
from the funeral home after payment.

You can pay up front, by bank transfer,

or by credit card
in up to four installments.

How are you, Son?

I'm good.

Hard to believe.

Sometimes I almost forget.

As if it were a dream.

And then, suddenly…

Yeah.

Our kids don't let us forget, huh?

You know, there was a time
when Mirtes and I separated.

I think that was the hardest. I…

I looked at Marta and felt so angry!

Though it's different, I know.

Yeah.

Listen, whatever you need, just ask.

We're going through a financial crisis
after what happened in Europe,

but we're always here.

Don't worry. She's my family.

Everything's under control.

I believe you, Son.

You know, right,
that Mirtes is a little upset

with the burial and all that.

Yes. That's why I wanted to come now
and tell you how everything's going.

I understand, Son.

-I understand.
-Well.

Yeah.

Thanks for the coffee.

We'll be in touch.

That's all for today?

Where are Laura and Lucas?

At home.

Oh, so she's back.

True.

I thought you'd only asked about Lucas.

Laura's still traveling.

Oh, a vacation from her family.

Sometimes we need one, huh?

I hear it helps the love life too.

That's 42.50.

Have a good night, Israel.
Give Lucas a kiss.

"Lucas…

This is a letter for you to read

when you're grown.

When all these things
that seem huge to me now

will be minor for you guys.

Will be memories, or better yet,

won't even be memories.

Because you're so tiny now,

we don't even know
if you'll remember anything.

You were born today.

Seeing you for the first time

made me panic

and feel so afraid

like I'd never felt before.

Wow.

You exist.

How lucky

for the world.

Your dad was so confident,

holding your tiny little body.

He seemed like he'd been
born knowing what to do.

Holding your head.

Helping weigh you.

We chose this name.

Once again,

I was riddled with doubt,
and Israel was brimming with certainty.

I think something inside him changed
when he saw you.

I felt only dread.

But

that's not bad.

That's good.

It's human.

That means you're alive.

Lucas.

And I don't have the faintest idea
if I'll be a good mom.

But your dad is strong.

He'll help us.

I promise to work enormously hard
to always remember you,

both of you, on this day.

Your faces

and everything I'm feeling,

as it explodes in my chest.

You crying at the awful and needless
heel prick test.

Your purple belly button.

Scary.

And this love.

New and overwhelming.

Note:

Not sure if I'll give you
this letter anymore.

I think I made it seem like your birth

was something negative.

Laura."

Lucas.

Lucas?

No need to eat if you don't want to.

Should I tell a story?

Once upon a time, there was…

a sleepy house…

where everyone always slept.

This house had a bed…

a cozy bed…

in the sleepy house…

where everyone always slept.

And then we can collect her clothes too.

EVERYTHING WILL BE ALL RIGHT

In the far, far away
Small mountain village

The small mountain village

My dear mother

Has grown a lot of gray hair

The past is hard to forget

Hard to forget

It's about leaving.

I know.

-You don't mind if I--
-I can't stop.

Sorry.

In the far, far away
Small mountain village

The small mountain village

My dear mother

Has grown a lot of gray hair

The past is hard to forget

Hard to forget

Mom has given me so many kisses

So many kisses

The kisses dried the tears on my face

And warmed up my lonely heart

Mom's kisses, sweet kisses

For which I've been longing until now

In the far, far away
Small mountain village

The small mountain village

My dear mother

Has grown a lot of gray hair

The past is hard to forget

Hard to forget

Mom has given me so many kisses

So many kisses

The kisses dried the tears on my face

And warmed up my lonely heart

Mom's kisses, sweet kisses

For which I've been longing until now

Mom's kisses, sweet kisses

For which I've been longing until now

Mom's kisses, sweet kisses

For which I've been longing until now

Want help?

Yes.

Thank you so much.

Thanks.

Do you have kids?

No.

Could you hold him just a bit more?

I want to go to the bathroom,
and it's so hard to find someone.

-Sure, all right.
-Thanks.

Thank you so much.

I've always been someone who's…

strange.

Not to others.
Other people think I'm friendly, pleasant.

I hear what they have to say.

I can say important things
when they have a problem to solve,

but I know I'm strange.

Once, when I was little, my dad said,
"That girl is like a cat."

Back then,
I didn't really get what he meant.

But it stuck with me.

I was a cat.

The feeling I have is that I'm always
looking at life without being in it.

I watch soap operas,

and it's amazing how people always have
the right feelings for each situation.

If someone's happy, they laugh.

If they're sad, they cry.

Or if they're angry
at someone, they shout.

Shouting.

I've never shouted at anyone.

The day he left,
it might have been good to shout.

While he paced around the living room

saying all that stuff about us,
I thought about that.

I thought maybe I should stand and shout.

Not because I had something to say.
I honestly didn't want to say anything.

But just to know if, when I shouted,
his whimpering eyes would turn to fear.

It was so that when he'd open the door,
our neighbors would be there looking.

That'd be funny.

But I didn't shout.

On the contrary, I was very quiet.

Then he sat beside me and started crying,

and I saw that his right pant leg
had a stain.

It was brown, round, and not too big.

It was a weird brown.

I couldn't tell what he'd gotten on there.

I remembered I had baking soda there
that might help clean the stain,

but only if it were coffee,

because if it were wine instead,
I'd need to use ammonia.

It was already dry.

And I almost had the urge
to ask him to take off his pants,

so I could try to clean them,

but by then he was
already crying so much that I…

I thought I'd better wait.

Then he calmed down

and told me, "I'm leaving."

And looked at me so I could say something.

I knew it'd be a good idea
to say something, or cry,

but then I said, "All right."

And he stood up and left.

I spent a while waiting on the couch.

I don't know.

It felt kind of disrespectful
to stand right after that.

But then I remembered that with that whole
thing, I'd left laundry in the machine,

so I went out to the backyard

and started putting them out
nice and neatly, nice and taut.

Excuse me.

Sorry.

It's no problem.

Everything all right?

Yeah.

Can I have one?

Sure.

Thanks.

I've been past lots of networks.

All password-protected.

I wonder what passwords people use.

I like seeing the network names.

I saw one called "Robervânia."

"Paulo."

"Roberto."

"The Love Corner."

"Emotional Cruise."

That's a good one.

A cruise for sappy love songs, am I right?

Are you in search of adventure?

Adventure?

Yeah.

Crossing the country in a bus.

Careful not to look too much.
The views all start to look the same.

I've always found it sad and cruel

that you can't feel again what you felt
when you saw something for the first time.

Yeah, it's sad.

Seeing something or someone again is

always an attempt to bring back
something that's not coming back.

Even if it makes sense to feel it.

I'm always sad about that.

It might even change,
but always unequally.

Just grow attached to things.

Choose one and give it a new meaning.

See those eucalyptus trees outside?

I'm intimately familiar with them.

I look at them and feel comfortable.

I know what I'll feel.

So I keep looking at them.

Looking at them…

Looking at them…

until they go away.

You've taken this route many times then?

Yeah.

An adventure?

I guess you could say that.

Home, family, dog, cat,

child…

Just grow attached to things.

No, that's not it.

That's not it.

I've always known I'd get married.

I was born in Laranjal Paulista.
I grew up in Laranjal Paulista.

I lost my mom when I was seven.

My dad died when I was 15.

I lived in a small town…
so I went to a boarding school.

It was very common at the time.

When we lost our mom and dad,
we'd go to a boarding school.

And not just orphans.

And time passed,

and I waited.

I was a woman.

Back then, a woman couldn't just know
how to exist by herself.

How to feel complete.

We'd wait.

Or else we'd be lost.

And so it happened. It happened.

A lot of time passed,
I was already working.

I taught at that same boarding school,

where I'd studied,

and then I met my husband at church.

I'm Catholic.

And…

I thought I was lucky.

A nice man,
from a traditional Lebanese family.

But I was almost a spinster. I was old.

And he forced me to.

Today, my friends get mad.

They say, "He didn't force you."

Actually, we--

We accept things, we--

We play roles,

and it's true. I--

I did play that role.

I do play that role.

I had to quit working.

But that was never a problem.

I've always known

I liked looking after a family.

I liked cooking, I liked washing dishes,
but I was happy having children.

I didn't feel anything.

Didn't feel any anger or sadness.

I also didn't feel happy.

I don't know.

But…

I don't know what happened.
At some point, I…

Everyone changed.

I realized I was stuck in a family.

I realized I was stuck.

I wanted to be in a family,

but I'd never imagined
being stuck in a family.

I was stuck in a family.

You know?

I think I've always had
a rebellious spirit.

So I got on this bus,

got on several buses,

and now I'm--

I'm going somewhere.

When you can no longer see
how you feel about a place

because you've looked at it too much,
you should turn around,

close your eyes,

and turn around quickly as you open them.

Did you know that?

We forget.

Sometimes.

Right?

Yeah.

You seem tired.

Yeah. Sorry.

Maybe I should sleep, but the bus…

I'm tired.

I'm married.

It hasn't been very long yet, but I can
tell I want to have a child with him.

Or more than one. Who knows?

Who knows.

When I got here,
I no longer belonged anywhere.

My name was supposed to be Helena.

But on second thought,
my mom decided against it.

Her aunt named Helena killed a man
who had raped her infant daughter.

Thirty years later, my mom's sister,
also named Helena,

killed another man,
who had also raped her infant daughter.

One was arrested,
and the other one ran away.

My grandmother, Zua,
after whom I'm actually named,

also ran away,
to marry my grandfather Tito.

My grandfather Tito
was murdered by the Portuguese,

who were killing all men age 11 and older
to keep their land.

Their places.

These men dug their own graves.

It was war.

The Portuguese thought
women posed no danger.

I'm the daughter of these women.

But since getting here,
I no longer have a place.

It was to be expected,
thanks to the time, to the fight,

that I should be the most free.

And yet I am not the woman expected of me.

I expect nothing either.

I don't tend to expect it.

Sometimes I do.

Sometimes I do think it's better.

And, if need be, I'll run away again.

They look at me

and know who I should be with.

How I should dress and act.

"This one, you can. This one, you can't."

I used to think it was abandonment.

Now, with time, I like it.

You look,

and I'm no longer here.

Burning heart

Who will understand your secret?

Who will alight on your fate

And then die from your love?

Oh, but who will come?

I ask myself all the time

And my answer is silence

Across the night

Come, my new love

I'll leave the doors open

I can already hear your footsteps

Seeking out my shelter

Come on, the sun is shining

The gardens are blooming

Everything is a good omen

That today is the long-awaited time

When we'll be happy

What was that?

I think the bus hit something.

Laura. Laura. Laura.

You've been coughing a lot.

That's normal.

No need to worry, really.

Everything's all right.

Because a good woman is a clean woman,
and if she's clean, then she's good.

Millions of years ago,
we stood on two paws.

Women were angry and dirty,
and they barked.

Because an angry woman isn't good,
and a good woman is clean.

Millions of years ago,
we stood on two paws.

We don't bark now. We're tame.
Tame and good and clean.

A very ugly woman was extremely clean and
had a less ugly, somewhat clean sister.

And an amazingly beautiful cousin
who kept clean only the essentials.

That is, her hair and her sex.

She kept her hair and her sex clean with
shampoo made in Texas by tired Mexicans.

But this story's heroine was
a very ugly and extremely clean woman

who for many years led an uneventful life.

A sober woman is a clean woman,
a drunk woman is a dirty woman.

Of this world's animals,
with or without nails,

everything can be exploited
from drunk, dirty women.

The ears, snout, belly, knees,
even the corkscrew tail and little finger.

A folk song
from the 19th and 20th centuries.

A woman who bothers people is taken
to the warehouse of bothersome women.

They're permanent pigs, but when
they find their husbands suddenly richer,

the crazy locked-up pigs
are very convenient.

A fat woman bothers people. A fat,
drunk woman is much more bothersome.

A fat woman is a dirty woman. A dirty
woman is much, much more bothersome.

A clean woman, fast, a clean woman.

An insanely beautiful woman
will one day win a car.

She'll certainly receive a car.

And many flowers. However many are needed.

More than the sick and ugly ones
and secretaries combined.

A strangely beautiful woman
can get flowers and can get a car.

But one day,
she'll definitely need to sell it.

A woman didn't like to say "a woman."
What she heard was "awoo."

She also didn't like to say "a friend."
She'd say "afrie."

And yet another woman didn't like papaya,
"my love," and castor beans even less so.

A sober woman
got a floatie for Christmas.

But neither she nor her husband
had ever swum.

She wanted to know what the floatie meant.

Her sister, who gave it to her, said,
"Floaties aren't explained, they're used."

Later, they told her, "Floaties let you
float in water if you can't swim."

"Floaties are for children."

Nothing is dumber than a floatie,
and there's no river, lake or pool here.

There once was a woman who loved
poking anuses, her own and other people's.

Her thumb, index, middle,
ring, and little fingers.

Her little finger pleased her.
In others, always the middle finger.

If it were up to her, she'd
stick her thumb in. No, no consequences.

It was on their wedding day.

Poor thing!

His ex-wife waited until their wedding day
to get revenge.

So many evil people in this world!

They were dating for three years.

They were going to get married that day.

Because she gave birth before,
and then they couldn't.

Well, then the ex-wife showed up
without being invited…

saw the party, raised a toast…

stabbed the bride.

On her wedding day!

Our Lady of Succor!

Only the son survived.

Yeah.

Did you know the driver has five kids?

-Who, our bus driver?
-Our bus driver.

-Kids are our future.
-Always have been.

I want out of here, please. Help me.

Maybe you should call someone.

I don't want to.

You're sick.

I'm just scared.

And your husband?

I have no one to call.

I can't stay long.

I'll be on the next one tomorrow.

Whatever.

Welcome.

Hello.

-Do you have a room?
-A double?

Yes.

-Everything okay?
-Yes.

She just drank too much yesterday.

What's the room?

-Room 6, please.
-6, right.

You need to eat something.

I can't.

Why are you so stubborn?

Julio…

You think we'll ever see each other again?

I don't know.

Did it hurt?

I have to go on a trip.

You're spending a few days at Grandma's.

I don't want to.

Come on, Lucas.

I don't want to!

I need your help.

Promise you'll come back?

Promise you'll come back!

I can't promise that.

Subtitles by:
Daniel Erlich