All language subtitles for In.The.Fir.Fire.2023

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The origin of the word
"psychology" is greek.

It means science of the soul.

A new form of medicine that seeks
to explain the phenomena of the mind,

a much-misunderstood part
of the human body,

which for some has greatly
compounded their suffering.

You can leave that right there.
Thank you.

- Gracias.
- Thank you so much.

Excuse me?

Excuse me!

You're from the Marquez Ranch?

Dear Isabella,
your son's case is intriguing.

I'm eager to learn more.

I believe the abnormalities
to be related to the mind, not
the body.

I would like to come in person.

With proper time
and the latest in mental science,

I am confident that we can come
to understand his peculiar intellect

and integrate your son
back into society.

I look forward to meeting you.

Grace.

Maria!

Doctor Grace Victoria Burnham.

- Pleased to meet you.
- I am Maria.

- You are here to save us?
- Shh!

How was your trip?

Very agreeable.
Thank you.

Come, I'll show you
to your room.

I would like to see the boy
as soon as possible. Is he still
awake?

It is best to see the Don first.

Temo will come with your things.

Very good.
Shall I meet Isabella then?

You should speak to
the Don first.

Señor Marquez, it's a pleasure
to finally make your acquaintance.

Señora...

I am Doctor Burnham.

Hmm.

I see.

Temo will return you
to the station tomorrow.

- We have no need of a nurse.
- Excuse me?

I'm sorry you came all this way.

Come.

If there is a sick patient in
this home,
I will see to him.

No matter how ignorant
his father is.

You may see the boy tonight.

I'm sorry for that.

It's a bitter man who puts his prejudices
before the welfare of his own child.

- He has good reason.
- Is that so?

He doesn't seem
like a man moved by reason.

I'm assuming
it was Isabella who taught the boy.

Martín taught himself.

- You keep him like this?
- It is best.

It's all right.
This is Doctor Burnham.

Look, Martín.
She's from Nueva York.

- It's a pleasure to meet you.
- Your music was lovely.

Was that Paganini?

May I sit?

Thank you, Martín.

Father Antonio,
thank you, but you may leave us now.

I'm sorry, Señora, I must stay.

Can you read to me?

Yes. But first,
I'd like to ask you some questions.

Would that be all right?

- And do you like cowboys?
- They're called gauchos here or vaqueros.

That's what I'm going to be.

You are quite the enthusiast.

You'd make Buffalo
Bill very proud.

You've been as well to a show?

I have.

During the World's
Fair in Chicago.

You're very lucky.

Mama says Buffalo Bill
is almost a good cowboy as papá.

I'm sure she's right.

Did she buy you all these books?

Some.

But she won't buy
any more books for me.

And why is that?

Because I killed her.

Martín...

Can you tell me what happened?

Martín?

Would you like me to
read to you now?

Isabella, no!

Martín!

Martín!

Why have you allowed him
to perpetuate this idea that he
killed his mother?

Because that is what happened.

He's always been like this.

The very day Martín was born,
that's when the locusts came.

It is like "Exodus 10".

"The Lord sent a plague onto Egypt,
and that plague was death."

Father Antonio...

before we begin Martín's
treatment,
let me be clear.

We are dealing with a disorder.
A disease of the mind.

Religion is not a factor.

It is a matter of science
and we'll solve it as one.

Sí, señora.

If we say we have no sin,

we deceive ourselves,
and the truth is not in us.

And who decides what is a sin?

Martín, I would like to visit
your mother's grave.

Would you mind taking me?

It's better if we stay
in the hacienda.

No! She should see my mother.

It's not safe.

I will take you.

Do you miss your mother?

Shall we pray, Martín?

Father Antonio.

Padre Gavira.

- That is quite enough!
- Grace.

You're scaring him.

He is a child.

Martín, no!

- Martín, come! Come!

Go, Grace!

We'll get the demon later!
We purify the Jesuit's soul.

What have they done?

Hold this. I need my bag.

My bag. Now.

I need clean bandages.

What was that Temo said?
Satch-ak?

Sach'aqa.
It's Quechua, it means
"savages".

Gavira came
when Martín was only months old.

The Lord had spoken to him.

He said we had to exorcise Martín
to get the devil out of him.

I refused.

And now they blame Martín
for everything bad that happens here.

You were right.

They say Martín is evil.

Maybe he is.

- I was praying for you.
- Do you know who that is?

- Satan.
- He was once God's favourite angel.

But he wanted to be like God
so he was cast out of heaven.

Satan hides in our world...

until regains his strength.

Then he will rise again
and wage his final war.

Martín, would you warm
some water for me, please?

Sí, señora.

- Do you actually believe those
things?
- It's the word of God.

But I won't be
of much help in their great war,

because I am weak.

You don't have to tell me.

Gavira broke me with
just a few lashes.

I confessed everything he asked.

"Is the boy in league with
Lucifer?"
"Yes."

"Did he conspire
to bring famine to this valley?"
"Yes."

Don Marquez!

This is no place for your son.

I think you know that.

Can you hear me?

He died this morning.
Half of my herd is already afflicted.

Unquy llaqta utaq.

The animals in the village
are sick as well. They will
blame Martín.

Well, you must leave.
You've got to go to someplace safe.

You can leave if you want.

That was very nice of you, Martín.

Señora.

I see you are still here.
- I am.

So you think you can still heal,
Martín?

Of course.

Hmm.

Let me tell you about Martíne's
sister.
She was stillborn.

I'm sorry.

No, she wasn't...

- !¡Nicolás! Déjame verla.
- I wanted her buried with the family.

Nicolás!

But Father Gavira
wouldn't allow it.

She wasn't baptised,
so I buried her by the stream.

- I see.
- No, you don't.

Martín didn't like
the sound of his mother crying,

so he tried to make her stop.

No! No!

- No!
- Martín!

Who would do
something like that?

I believe that Martín has what
John Langdon Down called "savant
syndrome".

It's a disorder.

It is modern medicine
that will help Martín.

Not priests or myths
or delusions of omens.

There is always an explanation.

Father Gavira!

I'm...

I'm so sorry.

What happened?

- You're arrogant to come here.
- I came to make peace.

And to help you understand.

See, Martín isn't like
other children.

He's got a sort of sickness.

See, I am an alienist, a doctor.

And I treat patients like Martín
who are alienated from their
human nature.

I baptised
this boy when he was only days old.

I look in his father's eyes,

and I ask him to let me hold
this baby's head under the water.

- He trust me, and I failed him.
- No.

The Lord sent me
a warning when Martín was born.

- I didn't listen.
- Martín is different. But he's
no demon.

Satan disguised
himself as an angel.

Martín has a condition,
an illness.

Look, if you just see right here,
you will understand.

It is all right here. Look.

See?

Please. You'll see.

Our book also
has a name for this condition.

El Maligno.

I'm no child you can scare.

No fue Adán
quien fue engañado, sino una
mujer llamada Eva.

Amen!

- !¡Malditos! !Bruja!
- Get off of me! Let me go! Let
me go!

- Let me go!
- !¡Bruja!

Get off of me! Get off of me!

- Let me go!

Get off of me!

You will confess?

I do this to save you.

Bastard.

You bastards!

Andrés.

Fourteen.

Fourteen qué?

You'll have to slaughter
fourteen head.
Better do it now before they starve.

There is no right or wrong answer.
All right?

What do you see?

- There is nothing.
- Really?

This inkblot was made by
Justinus Kerner,
a German physician.

Like you.

He was also a poet,
inspired by this very picture.

So, tell me, Martín...

do you still see nothing?

That's not a shape.

I see a lake in the mountains
because it reminds me of home.

Does it remind you of anything?

Anything at all.

Perhaps I see a butterfly.

Very well.

How about this one?

What do you see?

I see a moth.

- Everything all right, Father?
- I can't
remember the last time I've seen rain.

You really seem
to have made a connection.

If I may...

what do you see in him?

I see a boy born with
special abilities.

Music, mathematics, language.

A boy born with the ability to
access parts
of the brain that others don't
even know exist.

A boy touched by God.

That's one way to say it.

What else?

I see a... confused,

lost child

with no place in this world,

born incapable of normal
social behaviour.

Incapable of empathy.

And do you believe you
can cure him?

No.

But I can help Martín
imagine what it's like to feel

what other people are feeling.

I believe that only God can
change, Martín.

But who knows, Grace?

Perhaps he works through you.

Not yet.

Thank you.

I didn't know you were
waiting for me.

It would be nice to eat together,
as a family would.

!¡Claro!
It's nice to have a woman at our
table again.

- Thank you, Don Marquez.
- Nicolás, please.

The east field is ready
to be replanted.

Wheat will grow there now.

"The dusty cowboy rode
into town astride his giant
black steed."

"Outnumbered and surrounded,
he faced down the cattle
rustlers."

"His wife, still in the grips
of these bandits, called out,

'William, run! Save yourself!'."

"But Bill Cody would do
no such thing."

"He drew his two Colt revolvers
and galloped into the bandits."

"And when the dust settled,
there was only one man still set
atop his horse."

"The West's most wild cowboy,
a true gaucho."

- Like my father.
- Like your father.

Now it's bedtime.

Good night.

You know this is
just loneliness.

You know that, right?

Maybe.

You keep the boy inside.

No, that's wrong.
He's supposed to say the
benediction next.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you.
I have called you by name, you
are mine.

- You are mine, you are mine.
- Martín. Martín.

Martín, I need you...

So, Martín, I need to go help.

Will you stay here for me?
Please? All right?

- Nicolás! Where's Nicolás?
- He went inside.

Nicolás!

No!

Nicolás! Nicolás!

Nicolás! Nicolás!

No!

Martín. Martín.

Get up now, and
follow me outside.

Hurry!

Temo!

Antonio!

Stay here.

Go! Go!

Nicolás...

Martín...

The fire, he...

Yesterday, in the field,
Martín took my hand.

You'll need stitches.

Later.

I saw something.

During the fire.

Something... impossible.

If I...

If my reason...

If I of all people
can't see Martín without prejudice,

then how am I to help him?

God works through us.
It is by his hand you came here.

God didn't send me, Father.

If he exists,
God abandoned us a long time ago.

Do you know what "grace" means?

Grace is when... God reaches out
to us
in moments when we want nothing
to do with him.

When he puts his faith in us,
even when we've lost it in ourselves.

What I'm trying to say

is that perhaps it is you
we needed here in this hour of darkness.

Not in spite of your beliefs,
but because of them.

Good morning.
Good morning.

Martín...

Look at me.

Martín, it's time for
our morning talk.

Papá should plant amaranth
in the east field.

Is that so?

Amaranth is more tolerant
to blight and drought. We had
both this year.

All right. We'll tell
him tonight.

We should tell
the other farmers in the
village, too.

And why would you
like to do that?

So they don't burn
our house down.

Only that?

Or could it be that you also
don't
want them to go hungry? - No,
only that.

Why do you think that they burned
down your stables? - To punish me.

- Why?
- Because I killed their crops.

Martín, did you kill
their crops?

Did you sneak out in the middle
of the night and release the
locusts?

Maybe.

And did you also cast a spell
on their animals and make them
sick and die?

- Martín, did you?
- No.

- Well, then it can't be true,
can it?
- What about the man last night?

Hey, Martín, you did
nothing to him.

You didn't do anything.

Do you hear me?

He started a fire and
it killed him.

That's what happened.

Martín,
those people are scared, all
right?

They're scared, and they
need something to blame for that fear,

and it's going to be you,
because you are different.

All right?

Do you understand me?

Yes.

How's Martín?

He understands what happened.

He blames himself.

What can I do?

Treat him like a son.

Love him...

without judgement.

He mentioned planting amaranth.
Perhaps you could take him back
with you.

No.

But he needs that. He needs
to spend time with you, working
in the fields.

He will work with me.

But we cannot plant
together again.

They've sown my land with salt.
Nothing will grow now.

In the case of common hysteria,

it not infrequently happens
that instead of a single major trauma,

we find a number of partial traumas,
forming a group of provoking causes.

They are components
of a single story of suffering.

We must presume,
then, that the cyclical trauma,

or, more precisely,
the memory of that trauma,

acts as a foreign body

which...

long after its entry must continue
to be regarded as an agent still
at work,

only disappearing once the memory
has been vividly provoked.

The process must be
brought back to its "status
nascendi",

its state of birth.

Can you hear it, Martín?

Each click in rhythm
like the one before and the one after.

Each moment no longer
and no shorter than any other.

Time passing in
perfect symmetry.

I'm going to name a thing, and
you're going
to tell me how it makes you feel.

- Horses.
- I like to ride horses.

But they smell very bad.

- Yellow clovers.
- I hate them.

- Why?
- Because they remind me of Mama.

Tell me about her.

She smelled like lavender
and her hair was the colour of
burnt coffee.

- How did she make you feel?
- Safe.

That sounds very nice.

Why would you dislike
that feeling, Martín?

Because it's a lie.
We're not safe.

We're all going to die
because of me.

- What is your lie?
- What?

What is your lie?

What-is-your-lie?

What is your lie?

That I'm a fraud.

That I repeat the teachings
of great men, but I'm not one of them.

That I'll travel to the edge
of the world to prove myself,
only to fail.

Those aren't lies.

They're fears.

- Temo?
- Uma wakcha kunan.

What is it?

I believe it to be typhus.

- Plague.
- It's spread by lice.

I need you to go inside and burn everything
that she could have touched in
the last few days.

Linens, blankets, clothing...
Anything that could spread the disease.

Do you understand?

Through this Holy Unction of oil
and through the great goodness
of his mercy...

Nicolás!

I can't... do this.

I'm not who you think I am.

No.

No.

I'm a fraud. - For the first time,
I know my son and he knows me.

This...
This is just science, a disease.

But what you have done
with my son is a miracle.

She's gone.

It's God's will.

...committed
by evil use of sight, hearing,

smell, taste and speech, touch,

ability to walk.

Amen.

- Which books would you like me
to pack?
- We won't have room.

The violin, then. We
must bring this.

I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry.
- What?

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to hurt Maria.

I don't want to leave.
I'll be better, I promise.

Please. I'll think whatever
you want me to think. I just
want to stay!

Martín, look at me.

I can only imagine
how confusing this must be for you.

This is not your fault.

None of this is your fault.

None of it.

Now come help me pack.

- Padre.
- I'm ready.

Your things?

I have all that I need.

Very good.

- They're coming for him.
- Martín, come inside. Come.

If the worst should happen.

No.

They would be cruel.

You know what? Martín...

Why don't you play some music
for me?
I think that would...

- That would make me feel better.
- Sí, señora.

Martín!

Martín...

Let's go.

Let's get him to the horses.

Come!

Come!

These take you to the
cold cellar. Here.

Antonio!

Good luck, Doctor.

Nicolás?

Temo!

- Mátalo!
- Sach'aqa.

Yes.

Sach'aqa.

Martín.

Get behind me, Martín!

Mátalo!

Martín! No!

Amen!

!¡Papá!

Mátalo! Mátalo! Mátalo!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

Mátalo! Mátalo! Mátalo!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

!¡La mato yo, la bruja!

Martín!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

!¡Papá!

Nicolás...

People...

They won't understand.

I killed those men.

That's not what I saw.

I killed them. That's
what you saw.

Nothing else.

What will become of him?

I will protect him.

He will be safe...

and happy.

Martín...

It's time we take our trip.