All language subtitles for El.Porqu-De.Las.Cosas.(El.Perqu-De.Tot.Plegat).Ventura.Pons.1994

WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT

PROLOGUE

WILLPOWER

Pa.

Pa.

Pa. Say "pa".

Come on, it's the first thing
babies say.

It's the easiest syllable
to start with. Pa.

Paaaa.

Pa.

Pa.

Pa.

Pa. Pa.

Pa.

How can I establish contact?

How should I communicate?

Paaaa!

Stone.

Hello, stone.

Stone?

Sto-ne.

S-T-O-N-E.

Stone.

Come on, stone.

Say it.

Pa.

I don't know if you hear me,
but you can understand.

You understand?
You get me?

I know you can say it,
you can say "pa".

I know you can talk,
even a little.

And I know it's hard because
perhaps you were never asked to...

...and these things
can be hard at first.

I'm aware of all that.

That's why I'm understanding,
but do make a little effort.

I'll say it again.
Then you say it with me.

All right?

Come on, say it.

It's hard, but not impossible.
Come on, say it. Pa.

Pa!

Pa!

Why is it so hard for you
to talk?

I've decided to teach you
even though it won't be easy.

Man has always underrated...

...the verbal capacity
of the mineral world.

It's just a question of having
the willpower to achieve it.

Come on.

Say "pa".

Pa.

Pa.

Good morning, stone.

That's it.

Not too hot, and not too cold.

Come on, say "pa".

Pa.

Paaaaaa!

All right then, don't speak!

Think I don't notice
your tacit contempt?

Your disdain
is silently obvious!

But I'll tell you something.
Nobody makes fun of me!

Paaaaaa! .

WISDOM

Otto!

Otto!

Hello, gorgeous.

Yes.

Every time I go to bed
with someone...

...I don't do it because
of an attack of lubricity...

...but because
I've fallen in love.

And I needn't feel guilty.

You and I have a very clear,
flexible agreement about this.

But somehow I feel cleaner...

...if I tell you
I do it for love.

But if I get involved
with somebody...

...you say
it's out of lubricity.

It annoys you.

Don't think that I'm jealous.
I'm not, not at all.

It just annoys me that you're
so vulgar, so carnal.

Well, I am jealous
when you sleep with someone.

But that's because
you fall in love.

If the person with whom
you have a flexible agreement...

...falls in love
with someone else...

...it's logical to be jealous.

How do you think I decide
my affairs are based on love...

...and yours on lust?

You apply a very simple scale.

You are you,
and that justifies everything.

While not only am I not you,
I am also a man...

...with all the historical
implications.

That isn't true.

Although the years
have taught me...

...that men and women
do behave differently...

...I do think...

...that you can
never generalize.

But really, the old saying
that "all men are equal"...

...while being a cliche
and thus repugnant...

...is at least partly true.

Maybe not all of you...

...but most of you
are the same.

I know what I'm saying.

I've been in love
with loads...

...and unfailingly,
no matter how they adorn it...

...men get involved with me
out of lubricity.

To which you succumb
very easily.

I do admit that I've always
been prone to fall in love.

Love intoxicates me
in such a way...

...that as soon as a man
caresses my back...

...kisses my ear and puts
his hand between my legs...

...no matter how I try
to say no, I always say yes.

HONESTY

Today, I'm real anxious
to leave on time.

I finally got Mnnt's boyfriend
to ask me out...

...with the excuse
of talking about her.

She's my best friend.

But I know from what
Mnnt has told me...

...that Ztt isn't
one to waste time...

...and talking is
what least interests him.

If he has asked me round
for dinner...

...it's to impale me
on the table...

...among the candles
and the spaghetti.

If he has made spaghetti
for dinner.

He always makes spaghetti
for dinner.

Mnnt told me that.

I'm just dying
to go and see him.

Hello!

Mr. Rdz,
it's time for your tablet.

Come along, Mr. Rdz.

The patient in room 8 is dead.

I must go.
The man in room 8 has died.

It's a real nuisance
that he died just now.

If I report this,
I'll have to stay longer...

...even though the new shift
starts in 15 minutes.

Deaths mean paperwork.

It isn't something
you can do quickly.

It means I'll be late
for my date.

Of course, I could call Ztt,
explain what's happened...

...and suggest that
we meet another day.

But experience has taught me...

...that it's fatal
to postpone a date.

If the first one is postponed,
then so is the second.

And, for various reasons,
postponement becomes permanent.

It's been an awful day.
I'm dying to finish...

...go round there,
and just surrender.

If I was closer to the nurse
who found the dead man...

...I'd ask her to ignore it.

Then someone on the next shift
would find him...

...and another head nurse
would have to sort it all out.

And the next shift will have
just started working...

...and a dead man
will be no big deal.

That way, I'd get to my date
on time.

But I don't trust the nurse.

She's new,
and she may suffer...

...from that devotion to ethics
which novices often have.

Maybe not,
but she may take note...

...and use it some day
for her own benefit.

I'm getting more nervous.

It's getting closer to my date
with Ztt and his spaghetti...

...and I just can't bear
to miss it.

What should I do?

I have to make a decision.

The nurse is wondering why
I'm talking...

...and not doing anything.

I'll see to everything.
Don't worry.

And I can't ask the head nurse
on the next shift to help.

She isn't too fussy
about ethics...

...but we've hated each other
since the day we met.

What do I do? Just sit back
and forget the spaghetti?

I'm so upset I can't think.
It looks like it's impossible.

There's just one possibility.

I have to ask you a favor.
The man in room 8 has died...

...and I absolutely
have to leave.

Don't worry, you can leave now.
I'll see to everything.

Thank you.

Will the insinuating smiles
that doctor's been giving me...

...since he started
working here...

...become specific proposals
because of this?

And would I accept?

I never thought about it.
In theory, I'd have said no.

But after considering it
carefully, why not?

If I changed my mind,
I could say no.

You don't pay for a favor.

If you do pay,
then it isn't a favor.

My shift ended ten minutes ago!

The more I think,
the less I want to say no.

In fact, I want to say yes.

I'm dying for him
to proposition me.

So much so, that I'm
forgetting about Ztt...

...impaling me on the table,
among the spaghetti.

Ztt? It's me.
I'm sorry, I can't make it.

I have a load of work,
I don't know when I'll finish.

Yeah, we'll call each other.

How long will you take
to proposition me?

And how can I encourage you
if you take too long?

SINCERITY

To us.

To our engagement.

When do we get married?

We'll decide that later.
I'm too excited now.

I love you.

And I love you.

You'll always be faithful?

Always. I could never
cheat on you. And you?

No, I'd die first.

I'll always love you.

All my life.

- Me too.
- Me too.

- Always together.
- Together.

We'll always be honest.

We'll always be honest.

Always faithful.

Faithful.

We'll always be honest
with each other.

We'll never lie,
there can never be any excuse.

One single lie
would kill our love.

- Shall we go and eat?
- Yes.

I don't want much.
A snack will do me.

- But you must be hungry.
- No, I'll be all right.

Yes, I am hungry.

But a snack will do me.
I'll have more than you.

No, you want a meal.

Wouldn't you rather
go to a restaurant?

We've promised to be honest,
so, yes.

I admit I'd rather
go to a restaurant.

See how I was right?

What about that Japanese one
we went to? You really liked it.

I never said I liked
the Japanese place.

I remember perfectly.
I told you it was all right...

...but I didn't like it.

Anyway, last week I hadn't
promised to be honest with you.

So, you didn't like it?

No. I hate Japanese food.

- But you know I love it.
- I know.

Look, to be totally honest...

...one of things
I dislike about you...

...is that you like restaurants
which replace good food...

...with public relations.

That's part of an attitude
which you think is snob...

...but really
is just bad taste.

- You're an idiot.
- I don't think I am.

If we did an intelligence test,
you would not be the winner.

You're a chronic idiot,
and you always will be!

I never want to see you again!

I agree entirely.

SUBMISSION

I've always had it very clear.

I will continue searching
until I find...

...a real man.

One who gets to the point...

...and doesn't waste time
on useless niceties.

I want a man who doesn't
listen to what I say...

...for instance, during lunch.

I can't stand men who try
to be understanding...

...and tell me that they want
to share my problems.

I want a man...

...who doesn't worry about
any feelings I may have.

Even as a girl...

...I fled from boys who were
always talking about love.

Love!

I want a man who never talks
of love, or says he loves me.

It seems ridiculous when
a man looks at me and says...

..."I love you".

I'll tell him that I love him,
and I really will love him...

...and then I'll happily
bear the look of compassion...

...which he'll give me.

That's the kind of man I want.

A man who'll do whatever
he wants in bed...

...without worrying
about me...

...because his pleasure
will be mine.

What really annoys me
is the kind of man who...

...in the middle
of intercourse...

...starts worrying about
whether I've had an orgasm.

One thing.

He must be intelligent...

...and successful,
with a busy life of his own.

He mustn't depend on me,
he should travel...

...and, without hiding it
too much, have other women.

I don't care, because
he will always know...

...that a simple whistle...

...will have me at his feet,
ready to obey him.

Because I want to obey him.

I want a man who bosses me,
who dominates me.

Who, when he wants, gropes me
in front of other people.

And who, if I should ever
get an attack of chastity...

...would hit me...

...and not worry whether
people were watching us or not.

I want him to hit me at home.

Partly because I like it.

It really turns me on
when they hit me.

And partly because I'm sure
that with such an offer...

...he could never do without...

...me.

COMPETITION

Everyone calls him Morell.
At school, at university...

...in the office
where he works.

Others are Josep, Juan or Maria,
but he's always Morell.

Baba, his girlfriend,
calls him by his surname...

...even during moments
of great intimacy...

...and back-scratching.

Baba says he's pleasant
and friendly.

Morell isn't arrogant.
Quite the opposite.

She is delighted with him.

Especially because
she's just had...

...a run of
depressive boyfriends...

...the kind who look
for shoulders to cry on.

When Baba goes
to empty the ashtray...

...the noise of a fight...

...draws him to the window.

Outside, all is dark.

In the building opposite,
only three windows are lit.

One is that of the couple
who are always fighting.

All he can see up in the attic
is a guy smoking a cigarette.

The new tenant
on the third floor...

...is a girl who works
in Baba's building...

...in a different firm.

They saw her in the street
one day...

...and she and Baba
smiled at each other.

They eat and sleep at Morell's
three or four times a week.

Never at Baba's place.
She lives with three friends.

That makes it less suitable
for a tumble.

Now she'll ask for the pepper.

Where's the pepper?

That's a habit of Baba's.

As soon as she sits down...

...she remembers
something she wants.

But Morell is still
forgiving her everything.

When he gets up,
he sees the neighbor...

...on the balcony,
looking splendid.

Two days later, while trying
to listen to Brazilian music...

...the neighbors' quarrel
draws him to the window.

Where does the woman
get her energy?

She'll end up hoarse.

He looks over
at the next apartment.

Incredible!

On Monday afternoon,
after phoning Baba...

...he installs himself
at the window.

At first, he feels guilty
about violating her privacy.

But then he thinks
it isn't so awful.

He's only looking at the view
from his own window.

Everyone can take the air
on a warm day.

What's wrong with that?

Having reached this conclusion,
he stares over.

He'd like to get
a better look at her.

A few days later, he buys
a very powerful telescope.

It's an import, made in Taiwan.

At about 6.45...

...he's all ready.

He can see better, but he must
learn how to use the telescope.

The window to the right must be
the kitchen, and further back...

...must be...

...the front door.

He is fascinated.

Lf, in day light,
he can see everything...

...how she strips...

...the color of the liquid
in her glass...

...at night time,
when the houses are lit up...

...visibility will be perfect.

And so it is.

When, at about 10.00,
the girl wakes up...

...and switches
on the light...

...he has total vision.

He sees each detail
as if it were on a film screen.

The gleam of the clothes
she carries off to the right.

That must be her bedroom.

She doesn't go to bed
until 12.30.

When her light goes off...

...Morell finishes up.

The problem is he can't use
the telescope if Baba is there.

To space out her visits...

...he says he has
a lot of work...

...and to make up, talks about
their vacation in September...

...their first vacation
together.

Soon, he knows the neighbor's
timetable so well...

...he knows exactly
when to look.

On one hand, the situation...

...is more interesting.

On the other, he feels
it's time to stop...

...call Baba, go out
and forget about it all...

...instead of watching
this private theater.

They must be in the kitchen.

Or maybe not.

What if, right now, they are
in full amorous ecstasy?

At 10. 15, she has
put on a record...

...and is dancing
to the hot rhythm.

It's frustrating...

...not hearing what they say.
He wishes he could lip read.

What will they do
in the bedroom?

This guy visits the neighbor
approximately twice a week.

And sometimes,
another one comes.

It's impossible to tell
who'll come when.

The first week, the regular
comes Monday and Thursday.

The other, Tuesday and Friday.

The second week, the regular
comes Tuesday and Saturday.

The other doesn't come.

The third week,
the regular comes Tuesday.

The other, Sunday.

Tonight, the neighbor
is on the balcony...

...with the regular.

She looks around and glances
at his window for an instant...

...a micro-second.

Long enough to alarm him.

That night he dreams...

...that the man who visits her
isn't the regular...

...or the other one...

...but him.

When she is there,
right in front of him...

...he finds her unattractive.

Her skin is far too porous
and she smells of babies.

Soon he gets fed up
with it all...

...and he invites Baba
to spend the night with him.

While Baba is preparing
gazpacho for supper...

...he suddenly remembers...

...he hasn't put
the telescope away.

He can't resist taking a look.

This is clearly...

...a challenge.
You look at me...

...I look at you.

She didn't buy a telescope...

...by pure coincidence.

Did she catch him watching her?

How? When did he...

...make a mistake?

Spurred on by feeling
the neighbor's eyes on him...

...he surpasses himself
with Baba that night.

Like a child showing off
his drawing...

...he goes to the window.

Despite the darkness, he thinks
he sees her at the telescope.

He feels satisfied.

Tomorrow, not only
will he see her again...

...but she will know she is
being watched all the time...

...continuously.

When he gets back from work,
he sits down at the telescope.

This evening...

...the neighbor gives him...

...an innocent smile.

At 9.00, she comes in, not
with the boyfriends he knows...

...but with two strangers,
laden with books.

For a moment,
he thinks it's a meeting...

...and he's disappointed.

He is about to abandon
the telescope...

...but fortunately...

...he doesn't.

Fifteen minutes later,
she's at it with both of them.

What can he do
to at least equal her move?

He can't ask Baba to go to bed
with him and another guy.

That wouldn't be right.

He knows Baba dates
other men occasionally...

...just as he dates
other girls.

But Baba wouldn't like
a suggestion like that.

He spends the day
going through ads.

He can't get used to the idea.

How can he be in bed
with two girls who...

...quite frankly,
don't interest him...

...just so that
the neighbor...

...can see him?

Whatever...

...competition
they had established...

...perhaps they have
reached the limit.

It is impossible to know
if she looks satisfied or not.

He hasn't convinced her.

What if she realizes
the girls are paid...

...simply because
of their enthusiasm?

She'll think it's cheating
and she'll be so annoyed...

...there'll be no more
telescope sessions.

It seems that she isn't
having any visitors tonight.

Is the competition over?

It can't be.

He now feels it is up to him...

...to give the screw
another turn.

He spends hours
thinking about it.

At midday, he talks to Juan.

He suggests phoning
an old girlfriend...

...one who's into trying
all kinds of things.

If Juan brings a girl...

As he gets ready, he thinks
how awful it would be...

...if the neighbor
had a visitor that night...

...and couldn't use
the telescope.

Despite the champagne
and shellfish...

...it is all less exciting
than Morell hoped...

...and more so than
he might have believed.

But at least the spectacle
had been sincere.

One of these nights, she will
have to equal his move at least.

Or has she perhaps
decided to admit defeat?

After the first success...

...Juan is keen to repeat
the routine every other day.

He keeps going on about it.

Meanwhile Morell,
anxious to see...

...if the neighbor
will up the bet that night...

...calls Baba to say
that he can't see her.

Baba reassures him.

She was about to phone him
because she has things to do.

That evening,
he goes to the telescope...

...as soon as he gets home.

At 06.45, as always...

...she arrives.

While she strips off...

...she comes out
on the balcony...

...and smiles at him.

At about 10.00...

...someone rings at her door.

Today...

...the visitor is Baba.

PASSION

I must talk to you.

May I sit down?

Of course.

I don't know where to start.

At the beginning.

Last month...

...I seduced your wife.

- My wife?
- Yes.

Why are you telling me?

Because since then,
I've had no life.

Why?

Are you dying of love for her?

Does she not love you?

Do you feel remorse?

She won't leave me alone.

She phones day and night.
If I don't answer...

...she comes round,
or goes looking for me.

She says...

...she can't live without me.

And...?

I have no peace.

Since I met her, I can't
get rid of her for even one day.

Didn't you notice?

When did you meet her?

Six weeks ago.

You were in Rome.

How do you know that?

Don't you believe me?
She told me.

I met her on a computer course.

So what do you want?

Help me to get rid of her.

It isn't that I don't like
your wife. She's amazing.

She's intelligent,
she's sensual.

What am I saying?

- But...
- She's very absorbing.

Yes, isn't she?

So you want to get rid of her?

I do, to be quite honest.

She never leaves you alone?

If she sees you're alone,
smoking...

...studying,
reading the paper...

...or watching
your favorite program...

...she immediately comes over
and starts smooching with you.

And if you don't
make a fuss over her...

...she starts acting
in that way of hers.

That's why, even though
I have no right...

...I want to ask a favor.

Talk to her.

Make a fuss, say you're jealous,
threaten her.

Whatever.

Anything, as long as
I don't see her again.

- You really want rid of her?
- Yes.

- Please.
- It's easy. Do what I do.

Don't run away from her,
don't hide.

Be nice to her,
gentle, considerate.

Devote yourself to her
body and soul.

Phone her.

Tell her you love her
more than anyone.

Promise to devote
your whole life to her.

Marry her.

COMPENETRATION

Hello?

Hello. It's me.

I told you
not to call me at home.

It's just that...

You should call me
at the office.

Can you talk?

Of course not.
What do you think?

Where is... she?

In the bedroom.

Can she hear you?

But she might come in.

Forgive me.

I'm very sorry.

But I needed to talk to you now.
I couldn't wait until tomorrow.

Why?

Because this situation
is unbearable.

- What situation?
- Ours, of course.

- Let's get this straight.
- No, don't say anything.

It isn't necessary.
And she might hear you.

No, she can't hear me.
Listen.

I think it's time
to take a decision.

What decision?

Can't you guess?

I'm not in a mood for riddles.

I have to choose
between you and him.

And?

As you can't give me
what I want...

Let's not kid ourselves.

For you, I'll never
be more than...

You won't leave, will you?

I don't know why I ask.
I know the answer.

What's that noise?

I'm calling from a phone booth.

We've been over all this.
I've always been honest with you.

I told you how things were.

We get on well, right?

But I'm real crazy about you.

I know you don't feel the same.

And you know
I wouldn't hurt you.

I never promised you anything,
did I?

- It's you who has to decide.
- Yes.

Didn't I always say
that you had to decide?

Yes.

That's why I'm calling.

I've taken a decision.

I've always played fair.

What did you decide?

I've decided...

...to stop seeing you.

I'm sorry, but if it's what
you really...

Don't you realize I don't want
to stop seeing you?

Maria, come on.

I'd rather you said nothing.

Well, I'd choose a car
that gave a better performance.

What?

Especially if you'll be
driving a lot.

Yes.

Of course, I understand.

But I really don't know
what to advise.

In any case, I think you need
a car with much more...

...with much more...

Yes, I agree, but that uses
a lot more gas.

- Can't you talk?
- Obviously not.

- Is she close by?
- Yes.

In front of you?

Yes, but there's
no price difference...

...between that model
and the Japanese...

...and the Japanese...

She's there, and I'm here,
not knowing what to do.

Unable to decide
to finish this now.

The best is four doors.
For you, four doors.

You see? There's no alternative.
We can't go on like this.

We can't even have
a civilized conversation.

That uses over a gallon.

You're talking about cars, gas,
four doors, and I can't decide...

...whether to hang up.

Just a minute.

She says...

Tell Luisa that Ana says
the cake was perfect.

Who does she think
you're talking to?

Well, I'll see you soon.

Will I hang up or...?

Before I hang up,
can we meet tomorrow?

Yes.

I'm hopeless. I call you
to finish it all...

...and end up
asking about tomorrow.

- In the usual place?
- Yes.

- At the usual time?
- Exactly.

- And will we do the usual?
- Yes.

I can see you
kneeling in front of me...

...lifting up my skirt.

Will you lick me?

Will you bite me?

Will you make me suffer a lot?

Yes.

Christ, Maria!
She almost caught me.

She might come back in again.
What if she wants to talk to you?

Talk to me?

No, not to you, to the person
she thinks I'm talking to.

Nobody could understand you.

And nobody could understand me.
I don't understand me.

I'm desperate.
I decide to finish...

...but when I hear you
I can't do it.

I'd really like
to be with you now.

Come round. Can't you?

Of course you can't.

It doesn't matter.

At least I can hear you,
and that reassures me.

- Do you love me?
- Of course I do.

I'd better hang up. Good-bye.

Where are you?

In a bar, I told you.

You said a booth.

- Lf you knew that, why ask?
- Because you're in a bar.

Or that's what you say now.

- A bar, a booth, it's the same.
- It isn't the same.

- Cut it out!
- Now what will you do?

Now? You mean about us?

No, right now. Will you see
a movie? Go to a drama class?

I'm going to hang up.

- Wait a minute.
- Really!

I sometimes think
that, if we wanted...

...things could work out
differently between us...

...without so much tension.

- Well, yes.
- Yes what?

Yes.

What's wrong? Can't you talk?
Is there someone there?

Yes.

You were to meet him
and he's arrived.

Or he's standing there.
Yes or no? What?

I'll let you have
the book back soon, Nina.

What's going on?

- You called me Nina.
- So long.

Call me.
And remind me about the book.

No, don't hang up now.

I had to listen to you
when I could only talk nonsense.

I don't know that one.
What's the title?

Perfect. You do it very well.
Now you'll say the title, right?

Yeah.

That "yeah" is very good.

It makes your conversation with
this supposed "girl" more real.

"Love in the Afternoon",
is that the title?

Is that title a hint?

An invitation?

"One Hundred Crosses" was better
than "Love in the Afternoon".

For me, anyway.

I've never read that.
Is it a novel?

"The Hundred Crosses" boring?

I told you already.
That one uses less gas...

...than the other.

But the heroine of "Love in
the Afternoon" is more realistic.

Why didn't a firm like Peugeot
foresee a case like that?

This is getting like...

..."Tit for Tat",
or am I mistaken?

- Not at all.
- Well then?

Nothing.

See how there's no solution?
Now I can talk again.

Got nothing to say?

Have you run out of steam?

Or do you want to move on
from automobiles?

- I'm alone too.
- Well, good-bye.

You're right. It's better.

- I've something to tell you.
- What?

I'm pregnant.

Did you hear?

I'm pregnant by you.

By me?
How do you know it's mine?

Since my last period
I've only been with you!

And the boyfriend who can
give you all that I can't?

I'm sorry.

- What will you do?
- What will I do?

- Have you nothing to say?
- Me? No.

Now I've discovered
how you really are.

Now I know that if I'm ever
in that situation...

...you'll dump me.

What do you mean,
"if I'm ever"?

It means, obviously,
that I'm not pregnant.

Do you think I'm stupid?

I just wondered how you'd react
in that situation.

Do you think that
if I were really pregnant...

...I'd ask you what I should do?

Listen, Maria.

What? Listen to what?

You know I can't stand
you speaking to me like that.

Really?

I'll slap your face.

Yes?

Really hard.

Yes.

Until you scream.

Yes.

I'll tie you to the bed.

Yes, yes.

I'll spit on you.

Yes.

I'll slap your cheeks
until they bleed.

Yes, yes.

I'll make you...

What?

I'll make you...

What?

I'll fill your mouth.

And I'll make you
swallow it all.

You won't spill one drop.

Not one.

Not one, I said!

Lick that one
on your lower lip.

Slut! Call me a slut!

Slut! Kneel down
and open your mouth.

That's enough.

I'll tell you,
whatever may happen.

It's ridiculous to go on
like this. Listen to me.

I'm not Maria.

What do you mean?

I'm not Maria, that's what
I mean. Maria is...

Maria asked me to phone you
and pretend that I was her.

Are you kidding me?

- She had to go away and wanted...
- Go away? Where to?

Out of town.

She wanted you to think
she was here and not...

She's...

I can't keep on pretending.

Look, Maria and I met
at drama class.

I'm at the Theater Institute too.

She asked me to call and do
everything to pick a fight...

...because you've a date tomorrow
and she won't be back.

- Do you hear me?
- Where is she?

She's gone for a week,
with a boyfriend.

- Who with?
- With Jaume.

- With Jaume?
- Yes.

What Jaume?

Jaume lbarra.

But I'm Jaume Ibarra.

Who do you think I am?
What number did you call?

- You're Jaume?
- Yes.

Christ!

- Who did you think I was?
- Juan.

Juan?

You mean Maria and Juan...

- I know, I mixed up the numbers.
- Why have you got my number?

Maria wrote down
the two numbers...

...one above the other,
and I mixed them up.

I rang one instead of the other.

Why did she write mine
if you weren't to call me?

Or were you?

But you thought
she'd gone with me.

- You won't believe me.
- Tell me something.

- What's your name?
- Carme.

- Carme, tell me something.
- Just a minute.

Are you really Jaume?

Jaume doesn't live with anybody.

It's Juan who's married.

Why did you talk
about your wife?

You...

...aren't exactly
truth personified.

If you thought you were
talking to Maria...

...why pretend
you lived with a woman?

At times, Maria and I,
not so much recently...

...we do things like that.
It's a game.

She never told me.

Should she have?
Do you tell everything?

Almost.

Really?

Things about me?

What does that mean?

It means that she tells me
the interesting things.

In full detail?

In full detail
and very explicitly.

- Where are you?
- In a bar.

- Not in a booth?
- Give over about the booth!

- What will you do now?
- You asked me that.

When you were Maria.

Now that you're Carme,
you might do something else.

And when you were Maria,
you didn't tell me.

Why don't we meet?

- When?
- Today?

Can it be at night?
I have a class.

- All right, at night.
- Where?

In the Ritz bar?

- All right.
- At 8.00?

My class finishes at 8.00.
Make it 8.30.

How will I know you?

I'll wear the leather jacket
you gave her a month before...

The leather jacket.

A month before what?

The jacket I gave her
a month before what?

- I have to tell you.
- Go on, then.

Maria is dead.

You gave her the jacket
a month before she died.

Listen.

I shouldn't have...

I knew you loved each other.
When Maria died, I decided...

...the class decided...

This is a sick joke.

We can talk later.
At 8.30, right?

Or I could skip class.

- I saw her last week.
- She died five months ago.

I've seen her
in these five months.

I was with her last week,
She was alive, she was no ghost.

For five months you've been
seeing a Maria who isn't Maria.

According to you,
who was being Maria?

I was.

- I would have noticed.
- It's the truth.

Then why didn't you want
to keep our date tomorrow?

I'm sick of being Maria.

But yet you've just
agreed to meet.

Because I'll go as Carme,
not Maria.

Jaume, I'll explain later.

Why didn't you realize
I was Jaume and not Juan?

You think I didn't know?

Of course you're Jaume.
I know you perfectly.

You've been my boyfriend for
five months. That's a long time.

Enough for me to know...

...that I've fallen
in love with you.

I want to end this farce.

Don't give me that!

How come I never noticed,
those times you say we met...

...that you weren't Maria?

Remember, I study acting.

Come off it!

Are you trying to say
I wouldn't see the difference?

All I need now is the story
of the twin sister.

Although...

...Maria has...

...had a twin sister.

Me.

I never saw her.

Of course you did.

I mean, of course you saw me.

Several times a week
for five months.

Some weeks, only once.
We must talk about that.

I want to see you more often.

Shall we meet as arranged?
At 8.30?

Are you really Carme?

At 8.30, all right?

Yes.

I love you very much.

If you ever left me,
I would die.

EGO

You don't listen to me.

You don't listen.

You always talk about you.

You only care about yourself.
What I say doesn't matter.

You don't care about
what I am or think or do.

You really think I only
talk about myself?

This is the second time
we've gone out...

...and you haven't asked
anything about me.

Christ!

You're very odd.

- But don't get so upset.
- No, I'm really sorry.

It's unforgivable that
I didn't ask about you...

...or what you're doing.

It was an effort to ask
if you lived on your own.

And when I did ask...

...it was to know if we could
go to your place...

...or if we'd have
to go to an hotel...

...or stay in the car
on a quiet road.

I feel like a creep...

...a really despicable guy.

It's true, I don't
care about people.

I've fallen so low,
I feel ridiculous.

I, who considered myself
humane, sensitive...

...different from those
who only think of themselves.

It's just...

You're right!
I always talk about me!

I hadn't realized.
It's horrible.

It's totally detestable
behavior.

I really mean that.

I want you to believe me.
I'm not lying.

I'm not saying it
just to please you.

It must be hard
to put up with somebody...

...who only talks
about himself.

I couldn't bear
someone like that.

But you can't say
I haven't been honest.

I've been honest with you.

I feel confused.
I can't deny what you say.

You're right.

I always talk as if I was
the only one who mattered.

I'm horrified to find
I'm like that.

I used to be different. I was
interested in other people.

I'm sure I was.

I'd like to know when I stopped
caring about other people.

I'd like to know
what made me into an egoist.

I'd like to care
about people again.

And I'd really like to stop
being like this with you.

No, don't laugh.

You really interest me.

I need you to help me find out
when I behave like that.

And why I do it.

I'd like to talk about it.

SPITE

In their final year,
Grmpf is in love with Piti...

...and Piti with Grmpf.

But Piti is both shy and proud
and doesn't tell Grmpf.

And Grmpf finally decides
he isn't in love with her.

So, with a great effort,
she tries to forget him.

She has a terrible time,
for she really loves him...

...but at last
she half forgets him.

Especially when she meets X avi
and becomes interested in him.

This suits X avi...

...because he's ready
to cling to anything.

He has just split up with Mari
and is very lonely.

With the speed of those
anxious to bury the past...

...X avi and Grmpf
marry right away.

When Piti finds out,
he is devastated.

He realizes that he was
madly in love with Grmpf.

When X avi goes off to work...

...Piti waits at her door and,
when he gets the chance...

...goes in.

Grmpf opens the door...

...and is amazed
to see Piti on one knee...

...declaring his love.

Her heart is in turmoil,
she is about to hesitate...

...but she is strong,
and she tells him...

...it's too late.

Piti is silent...

...stands up and goes off...

...not wanting her
to see him crying.

Meanwhile, on his way to work,
X avi has met Mari.

What an encounter!

One look is enough to show
they shouldn't have split up.

They embrace and swear...

...eternal love.

But Mari is worried.

She doesn't believe
he can know so quickly...

...that he loves her
and not Grmpf.

X avi insists that
she's the one he loves.

To prove it, he goes home
while Grmpf is out...

...packs his case...

...and leaves a note
explaining everything...

...and apologizing.

When Grmpf arrives home...

...she sees...

...the note...

...and is in despair.

What an idiot she was
not to accept Piti!

She opens a bottle of vodka.

She drinks it all.

This gives her courage.

To say she's reconsidered
and that she loves him...

...she calls Piti.

At the other end of the line,
silence.

Finally, Piti clears
his throat and speaks.

He tells her it is too late,
because when she said no...

...he was so heart-broken,
he at once began the process...

...of denigration,
and as he is very quick...

...in minutes he has destroyed
his good opinion of himself.

And he has transformed
the love he had felt for her.

Now all he feels is hate.

A hate so intense he can...

...easily live without her.

Still holding the receiver,
Grmpf cries.

She gets a fever.

Suddenly her temperature
soars to 39.2�.

The next day
she doesn't go to work.

That evening, Toni appears
with a bunch of flowers.

He works in the office
with her...

...and has come to find out
how she is feeling.

Later, Grmpf realizes
that behind the interest...

...and behind the flowers,
is a spark of love.

But the time is wrong.
She can only think of X avi...

...until the wound heals.

The wound heals.

Grmpf recovers completely...

...and Toni persists.
He takes her out for walks.

He takes her to dinner,
to the cinema.

He'd like a bit more.

But she always makes it clear
they can only be good friends.

Toni settles for that.

He is very understanding.

He understands that Grmpf
is still emotionally fragile.

Every Saturday,
after a movie or a meal...

...he leaves her at the door
with a kiss on the cheek.

Poor Toni.

Then, one day...

...Toni meets Anni.

It's what they call...

...love at first sight.

They get involved at once,
and Toni stops seeing Grmpf.

Grmpf, annoyed, decides that
Toni isn't seeing her...

...because he wanted to go
to bed with her...

...and she wouldn't let him.

There's the proof.
As she isn't easy...

...no more hypocrisy of dinner,
movies, and that phrase of his.

"I don't mind. I understand
that you're still hurt."

"I don't mind if we don't
go to bed. Really."

Hypocrite.

In revenge, Grmpf starts
hanging out in bars again.

She picks up the first guy
she meets, a Scot called Eric.

Eric has just arrived
from Aberdeen.

He's here for a week to try
to forget a girl called...

...Fiona.

DESIRE

As we had to sign
some papers...

...my husband and I,
married for eight years...

...had to go a far-off city.

We arrived in the afternoon.

As we had to do our business
the next day...

...we looked for an hotel.

They gave us a room
with two single beds...

...two bedside tables,
a desk to write at.

And there were envelopes...

...and writing paper with
the hotel's name, in a folder.

A chair, and a mini-bar
with a television on top.

We had dinner,
walked by the river...

...and then, back at the hotel,
we each got into our own bed...

...and opened a book.

A few minutes later...

...we heard people fucking
in the next room.

We could hear the squeaking
of the mattress...

...the groans of the woman
and the shouts of the man.

We looked at each other,
smiled...

...made some joke about it...

...said good night
and switched off the light.

My husband...

...aroused by the fucking
which we could still hear...

...wanted to say something.

Maybe he thought I was
as aroused as he was.

He could have come over,
sat on the bed...

...joked about
the people next door...

...and, very casually...

...stroked my hair and face,
and then my breasts.

I would probably have
gone along with him.

But what if I didn't?

...he must have thought.

What if I pushed his hand away
and clicked my tongue?

Or, worse still...

...said I didn't feel like it.

Years ago he wouldn't
have doubted.

He'd have known, before switching
off the light, if I felt like it.

If the groans from the next room
had aroused me or not.

But with the cobwebs of years,
nothing was clear.

My husband rolled on his side
and masturbated...

...trying not to make
any noise.

Ten minutes later,
I asked if he was asleep.

He said he wasn't.

Next door,
the groaning had stopped.

We could hear
a whispered conversation...

...and muffled laughter.

I got up and went over
to his bed.

I pulled the sheets back...

...lay down beside him,
and began to stroke his back.

My hand slid down
to his buttocks.

Lacking the courage to tell me
he had just masturbated...

...my husband said
he didn't feel like it.

I stopped stroking him.

There was a brief silence,
which lasted a long time.

Then I went back to my bed,
pulled back the sheets...

...got in and tossed around.

My husband summoned his courage,
turned to me...

...and confessed that
he had just masturbated...

...because he thought
I wouldn't want to fuck.

I didn't say anything.

Minutes later
my husband knew...

...from my dissimulated
groans...

...that I was masturbating.

My husband felt a great sadness.

He thought that life
was grotesque and unfair.

And he started to cry.

He cried into his pillow,
burying his face.

The tears were
abundant and hot.

And when he heard me stifle
the final groan...

...against my hand...

...he cried out with a cry...

...which was the cry
that I was biting back.

JEALOUS Y

I like it so much.

I like it so much.

I like it so much.

I like it so much.

I like your dick so much.

I like your dick so much.

I like your dick so much.

Why do you always say that?

Ever since we met,
you've said it countless times.

But you never say you like
my arms or my shoulder blades.

It's always the same thing.
The dick.

But you have a beautiful dick.

You have a mania about it.

Is that all you like about me?

What about me?

You never say you like me.

That dedication
used to satisfy me.

It was tender and exciting.

Like when I used to tell you
I liked being in your cunt.

But it has gradually
become an obsession.

I know it's true
that you like my dick.

I see it in your eyes,
in how you look at it...

...in the rhythm
of your words...

...in the way you emphasize
the word "much".

Muuuch.

Even asleep,
you cling on to it.

- What are you doing?
- I like it so much.

You like it so much?

Yes.

I like your dick so much.

The same old story.

Would you love me without it?

What's up with you?

What do you think?

You only talk about the dick.

About "your" dick.

You never say you like me.

You're crazy!

You're crazy, Onan!

I'm not crazy! But I exist too!

Don't you think so?

I exist too! I exist too!

Don't you think so?

LO VE

The librarian at
the Zoological Museum...

...is a tall woman
endowed with...

...striking features.

She is intelligent,
amusing...

...and has what
people call character.

The American football player...

...is a tall man,
endowed with striking features.

He is intelligent,
amusing...

...and has what
people call character.

The librarian
treats the footballer...

...with contempt.
She is dry and indifferent.

Sometimes,
when he calls her...

...for he always calls her...

...she nevers calls him...

...even though
she has nothing to do...

No, I can't see you today.

I'm sorry.

I let him think
I have other lovers...

...so he doesn't get ideas.

At times I think about it.

Not a lot, I don't want
to realize that I'm wrong.

And I think I treat him
with contempt...

...because deep down
I love him...

...and if I didn't
treat him like that...

...I'd end up loving him
as much as he loves me.

When the librarian decides
to sleep with him...

...the footballer
can't believe it...

...and cries with joy,
as with no other woman.

Why am I crying?
I don't know.

I think it isn't just because
you treat me so contemptuously.

No, that isn't
the decisive factor.

The footballer knows
that she loves him.

He knows that she acts tough
so that she won't end up...

...loving him as much
as he loves her.

The footballer would like...

I'd like her to treat me with
at least a bit less contempt.

That way, she'd see,
on one hand...

...that it's possible to have
another kind of relationship...

...and, on the other, she
needn't be afraid of loving me.

I'd love her tenderness too.

The tenderness
she is afraid to show.

Sometimes the footballer
dates other women.

He thinks he can't
take any more.

He can't bear to be
treated like an object...

...to be ignored...

...to be used
and then cast aside.

But he always comes back.

And it isn't that other women
don't interest him.

They're terrific, pretty,
intelligent and thoughtful.

But none of them
please him as she does.

One day, one afternoon...

...while she is doing
her nails, smoking...

...and watching him undress,
the footballer...

...plucks up courage.

You shouldn't be so dry,
so surly.

I love you so much you needn't
be afraid to show how you are.

I won't exploit your weakness.

If you are gentle, and I know
you pretend that you aren't...

...I'll love you more.

And who are you to tell me
what I must or mustn't do?

That afternoon, the footballer
enjoyed it more than ever.

But the next time
they meet...

...she isn't as grim-faced
as she usually is.

The footballer is surprised.

Maybe she thought about it
and decided that he was right.

From then on,
the librarian is tender.

The American football player
is very happy.

Now I know
I had nothing to fear.

Showing you how I really am...

...won't hurt me, will it?

The footballer is so happy...

...every gesture,
every caress, moves him.

He finds special pleasure
in every touch.

There is such tenderness
he doesn't want to screw.

It is enough to embrace
and declare their love.

She says it to him now...

...all the time.

I love you.

I love you.

The librarian never again
treats him with contempt.

She is so in love with him...

...she tells him so,
morning, evening and night.

She gives him books.

She gives him shirts.

She gives compact discs.

She gives him jewelry.

He has her when he wants.

Now it is the librarian
who calls, more and more...

...to meet every day.

My love.

How are you?

And suddenly, one night,
she suggests it.

Would you like us
to live together?

The footballer looks at her
coldly, with glazed eyes.

Until recently, he'd have
given his right arm...

...to have her suggest that.

FAITH

Yes. Faith.

Maybe you don't love me.

I love you.

How do you know?

I don't know.
I note it, I feel it.

How do you know that what
you feel is that you love me?

I love you because you're
different from all other women.

I love you as I've never loved
and never will love anyone else.

I love you more than myself.
I'd lay down my life for you.

I'd let them tear off
my skin in strips.

I'd let you play with my eyes
as if they were marbles.

You could throw me
in a sea of bleach.

I love you very much.

I love every fold in your body.

I just need to look
in your eyes to be happy.

I see myself reflected
in your pupils, so tiny.

You really mean it?

Oh, Raul!

If I knew that
you really loved me.

That I could believe you.

That you're not fooling
yourself, and me.

Do you really love me?

Yes, I love you
as I never loved anyone.

And would even if you rejected
me or didn't want to see me.

I'd love you in silence,
secretly.

I'd wait until you left work,
just to see you from a distance.

How can you doubt I love you?

How can I not doubt it?

What real proof do I have
that you do?

You say you love me. But those
are just words, conventions.

I know that I love you
very much.

But how can I be certain
that you love me?

By looking into my eyes.

Can't you see in them
that I love you?

Look into my eyes.

Do you think
they could fool you?

You disappoint me.

I disappoint you?

You can't love me very much
if I disappoint you so easily.

And you still ask
why I doubt your love?

I love you. Do you hear me?

I love you.

"I love you."
It's very easy to say!

Will I kill myself
to prove it?

Don't be melodramatic.
I don't like it.

You've lost your patience.

If you really loved me,
you wouldn't do that.

I haven't lost anything.
Let me ask you a question.

What would show you
that I loved you?

I can't say,
it should come from you.

Things aren't as easy
as they seem.

- Maybe I should believe you.
- You have to believe me!

But why?

How can I know
you're not fooling me?

You could even be sure
you love me...

...and say you do.

But without you knowing it,
you don't really love me.

You could be mistaken.

I don't think
you're being dishonest.

I think that when you say
you love me, you believe it.

But if you're mistaken?

What if what you feel
for me isn't love...

...but affection
or something similar.

How do you know
it's really love?

Give me a break.

Do forgive me!

I only know that I love you
and I'm sick of your questions.

Maybe you don't love me.

EPILOGUE. DOUBT

Mushrooms.

Cepes.

Morells.

Amanites.

Honey mushrooms.

Cepes, morells, amanites.

Toadstools!

Poisonous.

Good day.

I am the lucky gnome.

I appear out of
certain broken toadstools.

You're a lucky man.

Only one toadstool...

...in every thousand has
a lucky gnome. Make a wish...

...and I'll grant it.

That's only in stories!

It happens in real life too.

Go on, make a wish.
I'll grant it.

- I can't believe it!
- You'll believe it.

Make a wish and you'll see.
Whatever you ask...

...no matter how impossible,
I'll grant it to you.

How can I, if I don't believe
you can grant whatever I ask?

Here is a little man with
a white beard...

...with a red cap and boot with
bells, and you don't believe it?

Come on, make a wish.

What should I ask for?
Wealth?

Women?

Health?

Happiness?

Ask for tangible things.
Nothing abstract.

If you want riches,
ask for an amount of gold...

...or a palace,
or a certain kind of business.

If you want women,
specify which ones.

If your wish
makes you happy or not...

...is your business.

Tangible things?

A mansion!

A Range Rover!

An airline!

Claudia Schiffer!
Julia Roberts!

The throne of a Balkan country?

I can't wait forever.

I should have said, you have
five minutes to decide...

...and three are gone already.

- Look, I want...
- What do you want? Tell me!

I think it's awful
to have to choose so quickly.

On a unique occasion like this,
you need time to decide.

I can't pick the first thing
I think of.

90 seconds.

Maybe I should ask for money.

A specific amount.

A thousand billion pesetas,
for example.

With a thousand billion,
I could have everything!

And why not 10 thousand?
100 thousand billion?

Or a trillion?

I can't decide on an amount.

In a situation like this,
so charged with magic...

...talking of money
seems rather vulgar...

...not subtle or ingenious.

One minute.

If I asked for power?

33 seconds.

- It's unfair to do this to me.
- 15 seconds.

A trillion! A million trillions?
A trillion trillions?

- You have four seconds.
- Not money.

This wish needs something
more sophisticated...

...more intelligent.

2 seconds.

Come on!

I want a gnome like you.

Good day to you.

I am the lucky gnome. I appear
out of certain toadstools...

...when they break up.

You're a lucky man.

Only one toadstool in every
thousand has a lucky gnome.

Make a wish and I'll grant it.

- Come on.
- It's hard to decide.

The five minutes you have
for deciding have started.

I can always ask for
another gnome like you.

But that wouldn't
solve the anguish...

...of not really knowing
what I want.