Original subtitles

Take it Easy presents

My film

I find myself on the occasion of presenting a school project entitled

"Sadness and joy in the life of giraffes".

I hope you'll derive pleasure from this work and that you won't possess boredom.

The giraffe is not an imaginary animal.

The name that Romans gave to the giraffe was ‘leopard camel’.

There are no giraffes in Rome. Only in the zoo.

The neck of the giraffe is the largest in the animal kingdom.

With the contribution of the neck, the giraffe can possess 6 metres in height.

Darwin made the giraffe’s necks evolve that way

so they would find themselves on the occasion of eating leaves from 6-metre-tall trees.

When they want to graze, giraffes spread and twist their legs.

When they want to graze, giraffes presumably possess fear

that animals of other species might poke humiliation at their figure.

The same occurs when giraffes do reproduction.

When they’re born, baby giraffes fall from a height of 2 metres

because on the occasion of birth the mother giraffe is standing.

The giraffe’s maternity cannot occur where there are sharp rocks.

Giraffes are ruminants.

They spend 20 hours a day eating because they eat very slowly.

Giraffes of the adult-type find it normal for giraffes of the infant-type

to take a long time eating and they do not force them

to eat in the car so they won’t be late for school.

Are you asleep yet?

This is my body.

It’s a giant body for someone my age.

This is my spirit.

It is invisible but I assure you

it’s also a giant spirit for someone my age.

This is the body of the man who is my father.

He is my male ancestor.

The spirit of the man who is my father is inside his body.

Is the TV not working?

Everything will be fine.

Why do you possess fear?

I'm not afraid. Where did you get that idea?

Sometimes you really...

Do you calculate all the time because you possess fear?

You don’t possess the money for it to work?

It’s just a malfunction.

What would happen if you didn’t calculate?

We’ll get the TV working again in a few days. Maybe a week or two.

Why do you possess so much fear?

Everything will be fine.

Do you possess fear for my future?

That I'll not have a future?

Don’t ever say that…

Is makes you possess fear?

No.

Yes...

Sometimes you say things...

that make you seem very adult.

Is that genuine? I seem like an adult?

Sometimes you do.

Are you afraid I’ll become an adult?

Everything will be fine.

Before I existed, did you possess this much fear?

No...

Before you were born I wasn’t really afraid…

I hope you get used to it because I aspire to exist

until I'm 101 years old.

It’s a deal.

Off you go to bed now.

Do you think this is a plausible conversation

between a 10-year-old and her father of 43?

What’s that supposed to mean?

Do you know what “plausible” means?

Wait. No need for the dictionary.

I know what "plausible" means.

What I don’t understand is why you’re asking if this conversation is plausible.

Where did that come from all of a sudden?

Mum said that if she put a character like me in one of her books,

readers would say that my behaviour wasn’t plausible for a 10-year-old child.

How can I put it?

Your mother wasn’t a very plausible character herself.

But the least plausible characters make for the most interesting people.

This is the sound of the breath of the man who is my father

while he thinks about the woman who was my mother.

Go brush your teeth and put your pyjamas on.

I need to watch the Discovery Channel.

I told you… The TV’s not working.

It isn’t working. They’ll fix it... It’s the connection.

Didn’t you hear me just now?

But I have to watch the Discovery Channel.

Why don’t you listen to what I say?

I lend my ears to everything you say.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have to watch the Discovery Channel.

But that’s impossible. Don’t you see?

Do you have the need for money to pay for the TV?

It’s not working!

I have some change. I can lend you some change.

Change is not enough. It would take a whole lot of change.

I thought you said it was broken?

Go brush your teeth!

I need to watch the Discovery Channel!

I wish to watch the Discovery Channel!

Be quiet!

It’s imperative that I watch the Discovery Channel!

Stop it and do as I say! Right now! Get it?

I get it.

If it had been you instead of Mum,

we’d have money to pay for the Discovery Channel.

Go brush your teeth.

Cock, fuck, cunt, cunt, cunt. Fuck this fucking shit. Why?

Shit, cunt, fucking cock fuck.

Go fuck yourself, motherfucker! Fuck you, you cunt!

Bitch, bitch, bitch! Fuck!

What the fuck?

Why do you spend so long in the bathroom?

Why the fuck…?

Because it echoes! Mum also used to sing in the bathroom!

G-L-O-R-I-A! Glooooria!

The bathroom isn’t for singing!

Fuck...

Why?

Why the fuck? Why, motherfucker? Why?

Are you OK?

Yes...

feeling better now.

Can I come in?

No!

Judy, don’t let him in!

You have to go to sleep now.

Don’t open it!

I know you're upset, but you have to go to sleep.

I need privacy.

And I need to come in!

Wait!

I'm coming in.

Are you still mad?

And you, do you still find yourself angry?

So so.

Same here. So so.

Were you playing?

I was getting my objects ready for school.

OK. Listen, I know you wanted to watch TV.

It’s for a school project.

I can help you.

We can use books instead of the TV. What’s it about?

Giraffes.

Giraffes?

But I don’t aspire to have your help.

What do you aspire to then?

A treat.

Since I can’t view the Discovery Channel.

No.

I kindly request of you. I really do have the need for this treat.

Just for a few minutes...

Just a few minutes.

Hi, Giraffe.

How are you doing?

I’m pleasant.

Have you been good?

Doing everything your father says?

More or less.

You must do as he says.

How’s it going at school?

It’s going pleasantly.

I'm producing a project.

You are? What’s it about?

Giraffes!

Giraffes...

The life of giraffes.

So, what are you going to talk about? How they eat and where they live?

Yes, and how they find themselves happy or sad;

Why they are happy or sad.

And...

when they miss something.

Dad misses you.

Dad?

Yes, he's here with me.

He's there?

Yes. Could you speak to him?

Sure.

So...

How are things, my love?

Pretty good.

Well, there you go.

Sleep well, you two.

No, not yet.

Talk to each other...

And I’ll lend an ear. Just for a few minutes.

I'm fine, everything’s fine.

Me too. We're both fine. Everything will be fine.

I’m glad to hear it.

But now I think both of you have to go to sleep.

OK?

Bye.

Dad won’t let me watch the Discovery Channel.

Is that true?

Why won’t you let her watch the Discovery Channel?

Nothing to do with letting her or not.

We had a problem with the TV.

Is it not working?

It’s not.

What’s the matter with it?

It’s the connecting cables. I don’t know how to explain it.

I’ll get it sorted out next week. Maybe sooner.

It’s just a malfunction, you see?

I see.

Have you had any auditions lately?

Not really.

And there's nothing you can do? No voice-over work? Adverts?

I’m trying. But they’re cutting back on everything.

What about the film you were supposed to do?

Is that still on?

I'm waiting for a call-back.

Have you been on top of your National Insurance?

OK, now the kid has to go to bed.

I beg to differ!

Too bad. It's time.

Don’t use the kid as an excuse.

I’m not making excuses.

Don’t change the subject.

Why can’t I change the subject?

I can't help you. Either of you.

You have to sort this out yourself.

I know, but I’d rather not talk about it anymore.

I’ll watch a bit of TV. Will you pass me the remote?

Keep trying and things will get better, eventually.

Can I have the remote, please?

You have to keep trying. You'll see! Everything will be fine!

Everything will be fine?

Yes, everything will be fine.

Look at me! I’m 43 years old and things are not fine.

I’m 43 and things are as far from fine as they could be.

It’s over! Get it? Over!

Pass me the remote, please!

Don’t use that tone with me.

I love you.

You do love me, I know you do!

Women always go for losers. Deep down you don’t want me to succeed.

You don’t want me to earn money!

You want me to go on like this so you can look after me!

While you sit back and bask in your success,

your books, your interviews, your daughter’s pride in you.

Don’t talk like that. It makes you look ugly.

Yes! I look ugly. It’s hideous, isn’t it?

It’s not hideous. It’s just a phase.

It's not a phase! It’s Chekhov!

It’s Chekhov, don’t you see?

Always... Always...

Always thinking everything's a phase, always dreaming,

fantasizing that one day I’ll end up in Moscow.

It’s Chekhov!

No. Not even Chekhov.

Chekhov is too good for me.

A cut rate Chekhov.

A plagiarized version that went horribly wrong. But that’s all I deserve.

A role in a spoof Chekhov TV soap.

A spoof Chekhov supermarket advert.

Will you now hand me the remote, please?

Don’t be stupid!

Don’t be a bitch!

Give me the remote and leave me alone!

Don’t talk like that in front of Giraffe.

I’m sorry...

Maybe...

Maybe if you talk differently. Maybe if it’s not Chekhov.

Maybe things will start getting better.

“Sometimes people sleepwalk.

That’s how I feel, standing here. Talking...

but also dreaming, seeing her in my dreams,

sweet dreams that take over me.

Leave me!"

You see? Chekhov.

Give me the remote, please?

You have to find other words.

There are no more words. This can’t be fixed with words.

Give me the remote, please.

Sit with me and we’ll watch TV together.

Let’s just watch some TV. Can we?

The TV isn’t working.

We’ll watch the blank screen, then.

Just for a bit.

“If you knew how much it pains me to go away.”

"Please stay. Stay with us."

“I cannot, Piotr Nikolayevich."

See? It’s Chekhov. Always Chekhov.

OK, Chekhov.

The TV isn’t working.

Good night, my love.

Giraffe?

Yes, Mum?

Seventh word.

Page 53.

Good night, Mum.

Good night, Dad.

Judy Garland?

Fuck you...

Cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt.

What?

I spy, I spy.

I spy, I spy!

What?

Something.

What thing?

A wonderful thing.

What color?

Brown.

What shape?

Like a toy animal.

Is it me?

Yes, it’s you.

Can I go back to sleep now? For fuck's sake!

Do you think the man who is my father

calculates the number of kisses he produced with the woman who was my mother?

Of course he does.

And do you think he also calculates

the conversations he produced with the woman who was my mother

like he does with the correspondence from the bank?

Yes. Now let me get some sleep, for fuck’s sake.

Why?

Because I’m getting up fucking early tomorrow?

No...

I mean why does he calculate the kisses?

And you don't wake up early!

You only get up early on Sundays.

Teddy bears need more sleep than humans.

See you tomorrow, then.

I am regretful for having bothered you, Judy Garland.

Shit...

For fuck's sake!

For fuck's sake!

Bitch! I won’t be able to sleep now!

The man who is your father...

calculates the kisses he produces...

because he needs to keep track of something worthwhile...

so the bills balance themselves out at the end of the day.

Because life...

is nothing but a shitty sordid path through a dark forest,

and we're all alone.

All alone!

And the only thing that keeps us alive is making lists of nice things.

Lists of friends, children, trips, parties, kisses, hugs.

Taking care of hope… Fuck, shit, bitch!

Hope...

Bitch, fuck.

Misery is already taken care of.

Misery is sent to your house in itemized invoices and balance sheets

that attest just how truly fucked you are.

You are always fucked! We're all fucked!

Tomorrow, I’ll have to consume “sordid” in the dictionary.

I want to die.

One of these days you’ll have to kill me, OK?

You’ll grow up.

You have to kill me before then.

I don't want to miss you.

I hate being alive. You’re the only reason I’m here.

I’ve already declared a thousand times I’ll kill you when I feel I’m growing up.

Promise?

Promise.

Thank you.

See you tomorrow, kid.

Who's Chekhov?

Fuck you, bitch, let me sleep.

Do you know who he is?

Why don’t you just kill me now?

If you won’t let me sleep, might as well kill me.

Put me out of my misery. Fuck, cock, cunt, cunt.

Who's Chekhov?

He’s a... Bulgarian scientist.

An inventor. A mystic.

A fucking alchemist who discovered a way to disappear.

A way to disappear?

It’s like this...

Close your eyes and take three deep breaths.

Then scream your lungs out. When you open your eyes,

you’re ten metres away from where you were.

It was Chekhov who discovered this in 1898.

On a winter’s day.

It was cold as fuck.

What happened?

I heard you scream…

I thought I viewed a spider.

It was only a shadow.

OK, I was scared for a minute.

You should be asleep by now.

That is truthful.

Goodnight.

Goodnight, Dad.

Chekhov would’ve been a good name for me.

A worthy name.

I like ‘Judy Garland’.

Judy Garland is a shitty name for a bear like me!

Sorry to tell you this but you’re shit at naming your toys.

You might well have done what you did with panther.

He has no name and no soul!

He just sits there, silent and still on top of your duvet,

but at least he doesn’t have a shitty name like mine...

Judy Garland?

Chekhov would’ve been so much better.

Chekhov is strong and majestic, it’s fucking beautiful...

But there’s still time to choose another name for me.

I’d liked to...

I'd like to die with another name.

I’d liked to...

I’d like to die as Chekhov.

Will you do that for me?

Goodnight, Judy.

Will you, bitch?

Can we keep talking in your dream?

As long as you don’t wake me up. I am already on the occasion of sleeping.

Bitch.

I need to watch the Discovery Channel.

Do you want me to go with you?

A person of the adult-type that doesn’t produce work is entitled ‘unemployed’.

If the only ancestor in a family is entitled ‘unemployed’,

they don’t deserve money at the end of the month.

To exchange for school, food, gas, electricity, water or cable TV,

which it has channels such as the Discovery Channel.

‘Discovery’ is the English word for ‘descoberta’.

‘Channel’ is the English word for ‘canal’.

A channel is the way to a place.

Discovery is the finding of something new.

The Discovery Channel is the way of finding something new.

This is my joy in the school playground.

This is the sadness of the man who is my father

as he watches me play in the school playground.

These are the cars that pass by while we wait at the traffic lights.

This is the bus stopping.

And this is the interior of the bus.

This is the sight-impaired man begging money from people who have eyes that work.

These are the people with eyes that work putting money

into a cup held by the sight-impaired man.

Do you understand, love?

This is the man who is my father talking to me on the bus.

You can see the glass half full or half empty,

but it’s the same amount of water.

Some people look at the glass and say it’s half empty

because they are sad about their lives and they think things will turn out bad.

These are the pessimists.

People who tend to focus on the worst side of life.

But there are other people, the optimists,

who are always happy and think that everything will turn out fine.

Optimists look at the glass and say it's half full.

Conceivably, neither the pessimists nor the optimists are observing the water.

Conceivably, they are observing different sizes of the same cup.

Surely the sight-impaired person doesn't see the glass half-full or half-empty.

Not even different sizes of the same cup.

If anything, the sight-impaired person weighs the glass.

The man who is my father often didn’t lend an ear to my discordances

because I have the pleasure of using edifying words,

which has led me to the occasion of being a world record holder

in the consumption of dictionaries.

It is genuine that there may be others holding a world record

in the consumption of dictionaries, but in our house I hold the record.

‘Sadness’ is the feeling, the quality or state of what is sad,

and it is synonymous with sorrow, distress, grief, disquiet,

pity or melancholy.

Sadness and joy can be genuinely found in the feeling of saying something

and not merely in what is being said.

This is the explanation of joy with a sense of sadness.

‘Joy’ is the feeling, the quality or state of what is happy,

and it is synonymous with contentment, satisfaction, happiness or jubilation.

The giraffes have horns that are covered with fur.

The giraffe is the only mammal in the animal kingdom

that can reach its ears with its tongue.

When they get angry, they fight with their necks.

It is said that some giraffes finalize their own lives.

This is entitled suicide.

But nobody has ever filmed the suicide of a giraffe

Therefore nobody can possess this certainty. So this may be an inventive fact.

The human species possesses the world record in finalizing its own life.

Giraffes also die when they’re caught in their sleep lying down

because they are tired from standing up all the time.

Lions can kill them while they sleep but maybe they dream that they’re dying

and never realise that they have really died.

If giraffes were buried in coffins, the funeral would surely be funny.

Once giraffes find themselves on the occasion of being dead,

they are eaten by scavengers, which are animals that eat dead animals.

Whatever remains, such as the fur-covered horns,

rots away and in a million years will turn into a fossil,

and the people of the future will think that giraffes looked like imaginary animals,

but in fact they really existed.

Goodnight, Judy.

The woman who was my mother called me Giraffe because I'm very tall for my age.

Sometimes I think it was because I look like an imaginary animal.

At night, I used to withdraw myself from bed, take Judy Garland with me

and go up to the bedroom door of the woman who was my mother

and the man who is my father and I would listen to them chatting and producing kisses.

I was in the occasion of peeping.

I felt happiness when they were producing kisses.

Now the man who is my father avoids staying in his bedroom.

Predominantly, he does not sleep at all.

I felt happiness observing

the man who is my father living as if I didn’t exist.

I felt happiness for not existing,

for being invisible and being able to lend him my ear.

It was then that I realised that the man who is my father

enters the story of my life in a secondary role...

but in the story of his own life he plays the main role.

The favourite dress of the woman that was my mother.

The favourite boots of the woman who was my mother.

A torch to light my way.

The dictionary published by Sampaio.

And the mobile phone that belonged to the woman who was my mother.

Are you writing something at the bottom of my drawer, again?

What are you writing?

Chekhov.

And do you possess permission?

Don’t be a pussy.

Judy Garland?

What the fuck do you want?

Tomorrow you must put yourself inside my backpack.

I’m going with you?

You must place yourself inside my backpack,

next to the mobile phone that belonged to the woman who was my mother,

which has a film camera.

What are we going to film, exactly?

An adventure!

An adventure?

It’s about fucking time! A fucking adventure!

An adventure!

An adventure?

An adventure!

An adventure! An adventure!

Judy!

He's still looking!

Stay still, Judy!

If I don’t look at him, I can’t fucking see him.

His smell is gone!

What now?

What do you want to do?

Make your fucking mind up.

I’ve been in your backpack since seven a.m.

My breakfast was pencil shavings and scraps of sticky-tape.

Cunt, bitch!

You promised me an adventure.

The mobile phone of the woman who was your mother is ready to shoot.

I possess doubts about running away.

Let’s run away.

Fuck, cock, fucking cunt. Let’s run away.

You know that’s what you want! You want an adventure!

Come on.

You can’t promise me an adventure and then get all shit scared.

The time is now!

You want to run away! You have the right to run away!

You’ve made up your mind.

Say it with me:

Now’s the time.

Now’s the fucking time!

Now.

Now’s the fucking time!

Now.

Now’s the fucking time!

Now’s the fucking time!

What now, kid?

Now we are entitled ‘fugitives’.

Fugitives are those who are being chased.

So, what are we going to do?

I don’t possess an answer.

Fuck me! Not this shit again.

You’re the one who wanted to run away!

We’ve done it and now there’s nothing to do.

This is an adventure!

We need a mission, a destination, something to search for…

Possibly, to run away from something you don’t need to search for another thing.

No fucking way...

There has to be something!

A magic sword, a chalice, a treasure, a river full of stuffed salmon toys…

Some fucking shit!

The Discovery Channel.

We need money for the Discovery Channel.

That’s our mission!

Fuck, yeah!

That’s it.

How much do we need?

The correspondence the man who is my father received

with the invoices from the cable TV company declared 49 per month.

Fuck...

The man who is your father doesn’t have 49 per month?

I spy, I spy.

What do you spy?

Something…

What thing?

A wonderful thing.

What color?

Silver and blue.

What does it look like?

Like a box on the wall.

What’s it for?

To get the Discovery Channel.

Be so kind as to help me…

No.

Be so kind as to help me…

Be so kind as to help me…

Let's go, Judy!

Wait!

I’ll give you money...

But you should know that I’m angry.

If it wasn’t for that, I’d never give you this money.

It’s angry money and it’s yours!

But you should know that my wife is bedridden, one foot in the grave.

And you should also know that I only see my children at Christmas

because they don’t want to see me when they come to visit their mother.

They only call in when I’m out shopping.

I haven’t bothered changing the locks because

I know it would be the end for my wife if she didn’t see them.

When she dies I’ll change the locks,

and they’ll never come in again.

I’ll give you money...

but you should know that my children were once just like you,

and then they grew up...

And now they think I was never there for them.

I wasn’t there for them?

They always had enough to eat and drink.

They had clothes. They went to school.

I didn’t hug or kiss them?

I was working!

I didn’t tell them I loved them, I didn't made them feel loved.

Did I only see them over Christmas?

No.

I saw them every day.

I saw them asleep in bed when I left for work.

In the beds I paid for.

And at night, there they were, well-fed and in their pyjamas.

And who worked to pay for the bloody pyjamas?

I’ll give you money...

But you have to stay and listen to me

because I can’t go home just yet.

They’re seeing their mother today.

And that is the day I come to get some cash out,

Do the shopping...

And then sit in the cafe to pass the time...

And make sure I don’t run into them when I get home.

When I get back, my wife’s always crying.

When she stops, she looks at me like I’m to blame.

They take her clothes with them to wash

and leave the clean ones from the previous week.

What about my clothes?

Do you think they take them?

I have to walk around...

with my clothes all creased up, as if they were a sign of my guilt...

and of all the love they say I never gave them.

Then what?

Nothing.

Then I make her dinner.

I warm up the soup I bought at the supermarket.

The ones you get in a packet.

I warm it up and she eats it.

She says, “thank you" and I say, "you’re welcome”.

But she means something else.

The same with me.

You should know that the money isn’t mine.

It’s their money.

My pension’s not enough and so...

they put money in the account for me.

They say it’s for their mum.

So she doesn’t starve!

And do you know what I do with their money?

I spend it all.

The whole lot!

They spent all my money and now complain

I was never there for them.

Now they’re the ones that are not there for me,

so I do the same.

I spend all their money.

Here you go.

I’m off to buy some soup.

Take the money...

and do me a favour, never get older.

Wandering is the act of rambling, walking at random, drifting and day-dreaming.

Is angry money different from other money?

Yes.

What’s other money like?

Happy...

Is there no normal money?

There should be money that is neither angry nor happy.

So-so money.

You have to look on the bright side...

You have to be optimistic!

The glass is halfway.

That’s too objective a way to think about it.

You know what ‘objective’ means, don’t you?

If you want to look it up in the Sampaio dictionary it’s under the letter ‘O’.

OK.

For you to feel stronger, more self-confident,

you have to see the glass half full.

You’ll stand a better chance of being happy.

The sadder you are, the more optimistic you have to be.

Do you see?

You’re only saying that because you can’t find a profession

and don’t deserve money at the end of the month

and you’re afraid that your glass will become completely empty.

My glass can never be empty.

What the fuck do we do now?

It’s imperative that we find some happy money.

And it has to be more.

The man who is my father is still going to possess unemployment next month

and I have no desire to beseech money on the street every month.

The idea is to have enough happy money

to get the Discovery Channel for the rest of my life.

53 507.

53 507?

You’re 10 and plan on living until you’re 101.

If we multiply 91 by 12, we get the number of months in 91 years...

That’s 1092.

If we multiply 1092 by 49,

the amount payable per month for the Discovery Channel,

we get 53,508.

If we subtract this 50 note, the final sum is…

53 507.

You need to add inflation.

On the other hand, if you decide to die sooner,

the value may go down.

I’m fucking good at maths!

Judy?

Do you know the location we find ourselves?

‘Lost’ is something that has gone astray,

that cannot be found or cannot find its way,

something ruined, shipwrecked, something that has become useless.

You’re afraid.

Of course you fucking are.

You don’t know where you are, so you’re fucking scared.

What's the problem?

We just fucking run.

We run not knowing where we’re fucking going.

So, if you don’t know where you are and you start running,

there’s no way you’d know where you’re running to.

So what do you do?

You look up at the fucking sun to find your way?

You just fucking run! Cunt, cock, fuck…

They’ve all done it before.

Alice. Red Riding Hood. Hansel and Gretel.

When they got lost, they ran!

Did they know where to?

Fuck no.

And does it matter?

Who really knows where they’re running to?

These people we bump into on the street while we run?

Do you think they know where they’re going?

If you ask them, they’ll say they do.

That they’re going home, or to work.

What then?

Then they go home and they go to work, for fuck’s sake.

And then? Home, then work.

Is that knowing where you’re going?

Fuck no.

It’s just going round in circles. Fuck, cock, cunt!

Even when you know where you are, you never know where you’re going next.

We can all die at any moment.

A rock falls from outer space and we’re all fucking gone.

Who knows where they’re going?

Nobody, bitch.

If they say they do, they’re fucking lying.

We are all lost!

All fucking shipwrecked!

You’re scared?

So what?

I'm fucking scared, too!

Isn’t that fucking great?

Fear makes your blood boil, it makes you sweat!

It makes your muscles ache!

It feels fucking great!

Run, bitch!

Run because we're lost!

Fuck...

I’d never been lost before.

I was always locked up in the house, watching TV and waiting

for you to come back from school, playing in that room and that bathroom.

Knowing where I was the whole time, going round in circles.

I thought I’d die without getting lost at least once in my life.

And now we’re on the run!

All thanks to you.

Fuck! Thank you, kid.

This is fucking beautiful.

We're lost!

Really lost! Truly lost!

We have no idea where we are or where we’re going.

Fucking beautiful.

Beautiful!

I am a teddy bear...

and I'm lost!

This is us arriving at the avenue that possesses an orange-colored palace

that looks like an Arabian castle.

This is me remembering that I had seen this orange-colored palace before

from the woman that was my mother’s car window.

Hi there.

Are you lost?

Are you a pedophile?

That is a stupid question to ask someone like me.

I am persuaded that I do not possess stupidity.

“I am persuaded…”

Listen!

If I were a pedophile I wouldn’t tell you, would I?

Do you know any pedophiles?

Relax, I’m not a pedophile.

But you must be careful, because that’s what all pedophiles say.

What?

“Relax, I’m not a pedophile.”

You're a panther, aren't you?

Yeah...

That's right! I'm a panther...

Are you scared?

No, I'm not!

You’re not scared of panthers?

No. I'm not.

Not even black panthers?

No, I'm not.

Do you want to run away?

No...

Your legs are shaking.

No, they aren't!

Do you know how a pedophile chooses his prey?

No, I don't!

By the smell.

The pedophile circles around his prey...

and smells it.

Like this.

You smell good.

No, I don't!

I don't smell good!

It’s the perfume of the woman who was my mother.

I sometimes use her perfume.

Rarely, because the bottle is almost finalized.

It’s a nice perfume.

You stink.

You’re right. I do smell pretty bad.

I have to, if I want to survive.

If you want to survive you have to change your smell.

Pedophiles are especially attracted to perfumes stolen from mothers.

If you find a nest of the Tambaqui ant,

Bash it...

and all the ants will come out.

Then you put your hand inside the nest.

Like this!

They go up your hand and arm and shoulder.

No reason to be afraid.

They don’t bite! I mean, they do...

but it doesn’t hurt.

Once you're all covered with ants, you lie down on the floor.

And roll around.

Like this!

You squash all the ants.

You rub the crushed ants into your skin like a soap or an oil.

Like this!

And you’ll start to notice a mint-like scent.

It’s the smell of dead ants.

That smell will linger on you and every time you go past a pedophile,

all he can smell is the mint-like scent of dead ants.

Get it?

Do you need anything else?

I need money.

Money...

How much?

53,507.

That’s a fair amount.

I don’t have that kind of money.

I mean, not here on me! Otherwise, I’d lend it to you.

I only have this 50 note.

But I can’t use it because it’s angry money!

Yeah...

Angry money is very tricky.

You can’t walk around with this note.

You’ll get into trouble.

Angry money is really bad. Dangerous.

What solution can I find, my panther friend?

Solution?

I don’t know…

It’s too dangerous.

What is it?

I’d help you...

But I can’t keep putting my neck on the line to help others.

I’m always helping out, but who helps me?

Hum?

I’d better not...

Or I’ll be the one who gets screwed.

Sorry, I can’t!

I understand.

Fine...

I'll help you out.

Give me the note and I’ll get rid of it for you.

I know a place where they burn angry money.

They’re specialists.

Angry money has to be destroyed in a special way.

It's complicated!

And very risky!

But since you have such a beautiful smile...

How could I say no?

Give me the note.

And I'll sort it out.

I am eternally grateful to you, Panther.

You know where you can find 53,507?

A bank.

A bank should have that kind of money.

And where can I find a bank?

There’s a massive square at the end of this avenue.

There you’ll find a building...

with ‘Monumental’ written in large letters.

The bank’s across the square.

But be careful! Banks can be dangerous places.

Do you think I’ll run into a pedophile on my way there?

You never know... You might even meet one at the bank.

And what if I don’t find an ant’s nest on my way there?

Fine, I'll help you out again.

Give me a hug.

A tight hug so my smell rubs off on you.

Tighter.

That’s it.

Rub yourself a little bit.

There you go! Now you smell like me!

Is your smell stronger than the scent of the woman who was my mother?

Yes, it is.

You’re going to smell like me for a whole day.

No pedophile can attack you!

But be careful...

Panthers have many enemies in the city!

Keep away from anyone in a uniform.

They're my worst enemies!

I am infinitely grateful.

Goodbye, panther.

Don't forget your teddy bear.

Ah, thank you.

He’s really cute, your teddy bear.

He is.

Really cute.

I have to go!

Take care.

Goodbye, panther.

You forgot about me?

You were going to leave me in the middle of the street

with that horrible panther?

He’s not horrible.

You like him?

I merely declared he wasn’t horrible.

You like him!

You’d like to kiss him on the mouth!

That is not genuine.

Kisses on the mouth!

I know you like him better than me.

I'm starting to possess anger.

Bitch!

You’d rather be going through this adventure

with that horrible panther than with me, wouldn’t you?

Bitch!

Judy Garland!

Judy Garland, my ass! Bitch, cunt, fuck!

If you don't remain in silence,

I swear I’ll abandon you right here on this pavement.

Understood?

Here?

Here! Understood?

Fuck, kid.

No need to be so cruel...

Not another word!

Fuck!

Sorry…

Not one more word, Judy Garland!

I don’t desire to hear a single sound withdrawing from your body.

Otherwise, I’ll let go of your hand and I’ll never come back.

Do you understand?

This is me possessing regret for giving the 50 note of angry money to the panther.

This is me coming to the conclusion that it’s more pleasant to have

a stomachful of angry food than an empty stomach.

This is me feeling the smell of the kitchen

where the woman who was my mother used to cook me dinner.

Mr Baker, can I please solicit the gift of one of your cakes?

"YOUR BANK FOR ALL OCCASIONS"

53,507?

Sorry, but rules are rules.

You’d need to have a bank account.

You’d need to have all this money.

I know the slogan outside says “a bank for all occasions”

but I’m afraid it doesn't apply to this case.

And yes, it also says that the bank is “always there for you when you need it”.

But it seems that it’s not actually there for you this time.

That’s how it works.

The bank’s ads are like breathtaking holiday destinations.

They exist so you can go on dreaming that one day you might go there.

Which gives you a reason to save more money and work longer hours.

But who really goes to the Maldives?

How are we to know that the Maldives were not just Photoshopped?

Have you ever been to the Maldives?

Do you know someone who has been to the Maldives?

And if you know someone who says that they’ve been to the Maldives,

are you sure they’re not lying?

People lie all the time.

They know the ads are a lie but don’t care because they can go on dreaming the lie.

People lie all the time, especially to children.

Santa Claus, “your bank for all occasions”...

The Maldives...

Don’t be ashamed.

There’s no shame in believing in things once.

Everyone believes once!

Once I also believed.

This one time a waiter brings me coffee, right across the street, in Monumental.

I look at the sugar sachet and it says:

“One day, I’ll tell you my biggest secret. Today is the day.”

I’d seen others from the same brand:

“One day I’ll ride my bike to work. Today is the day.”

“One day, I’ll sell the house and travel the world. Today is the day.”

“One day, you’ll write a love poem. Today is the day.”

But it had never crossed my mind to cycle to work, or sell the house

and travel the world, or write a love poem.

On that day, though...

it felt bad to tear up that sugar sachet.

The phrase stuck with me. Why?

Because I had a secret...

You want to know why?

Because they keep trying, trying until they hit the target.

If I had a bike or wanted to travel the world,

it would’ve been another sugar sachet.

But since I had a secret, that was the one.

I had my coffee, came to work...

and then went straight home and told her my secret.

She left me after a week.

And I cancelled the trip to the Maldives.

So, there you go.

It's not a great story. It's no tragedy. I'm fine.

My life is the same. More bitter perhaps...

I don’t put sugar in my coffee now.

Anyway, nothing to be ashamed of.

I believed once and then I learnt my lesson.

Your advantage is that you got your lesson today.

You’ll grow up knowing how things work.

You won’t fall for the next one, will you?

“Your bank for all occasions.”

It sounds good...

but it's a lie.

It works better as a lie.

Next, please!

Can I speak now?

Yes, Judy Garland!

Fuck, fucking cunt, bitch! Thank you.

I couldn’t keep quiet any longer!

Who does that son of bitch banker think he is?

I’d show him the sugar sachet, motherfucker!

I spy, I spy.

What do you spy?

Something…

What thing?

A wonderful thing.

What color?

Yellow.

What shape?

Like a post-it note.

The woman who was my mother used to leave me little yellow notes...

the kind that have a strip of glue on the back so you stick them to bigger sheets.

Every morning the woman who was my mother

would write a code for me on the post-it notes.

Seventeenth word, page 175.

KISS

Twelfth word, page 859. “Ludomania”

Second word from the bottom, page 736. “Deplete”

Eighteenth word, page 976. “Odontalgia”

Later, the woman who was my mother started to construct sentences.

Twenty-first word on page 604. “I”

Eighth word, page 754. “Today”

Second word, page 246. “Collect”

Twelfth word, page 560...

“School”!

I - Today - Collect - School.

The woman who was my mother no longer leaves little yellow notes

for me in the morning.

Seventeenth word, page 176.

“Robbery”!

This is it!

Let’s rob the next bank we come across.

Let’s pick up a sword and storm right in.

This is a fucking robbery! Everyone get down on the floor, motherfuckers!

Hand over the 53,507.

We want the Discovery Channel for the rest of our lives!

We go in like Spartacus.

Spartacus...

is an actor in a TV series I watch while you are at school.

A very good actor!

A complete actor!

Better than your father! Fuck.

Spartacus is the greatest.

Spartacus would have been a good name for me as well.

It’s beautiful!

Spartacus!

My name is Spartacus Chekhov...

and if you don’t get me the Discovery Channel

you’ll get to know the sharp end of my sword!

Robbery?

No?

Is that a no?

Wait. I can do better!

My name is Spartacus Chekhov, motherfuckers!

Everyone down on the fucking floor!

If you don't give me the Discovery Channel, motherfuckers...

you’ll get to know the sharp edge of my sword!

Fuck!

Alexandre Herculano!

I’ve told you I don’t believe you.

You don’t believe me?

I’m telling you this is Alexandre Herculano street.

I was strongly advised to be wary of people of the adult-type in uniform.

Are you a pedophile?

No! I'm a police officer!

Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.

Our motto is “to protect and to serve”.

And the bank’s motto is “we’re here for you when you need us”.

Alexandre Herculano. It’s the name of the street we’re on.

It’s right there on the plaque. Alexandre Herculano.

And what’s your street called? That’s all I want to know.

I don’t believe in what’s written on plaques or posters,

or shop windows or brochures.

I believed once, but I’ve learnt my lesson.

But that plaque is real!

The plaque does exist but it may be lying.

No! Plaques don’t lie.

This street is called Alexandre Herculano. That's the truth!

The plaque was there before you were even born.

Possibly, lies existed before I was born.

OK, but this street is Alexandre Herculano.

It’s on all the maps. Don’t you believe in maps?

Who makes the maps?

Cartographers.

And cartographers don’t lie?

Why would they lie?

So they’re the only ones who know the street’s real names.

Who is he?

Where can we find Alexandre Herculano?

Have you ever observed him on this street?

Does he reside in a house on this street?

Who is he?

The plaque says he’s a writer.

And where can we find him?

That I don't know. Shall we go?

You cannot trust anything that’s written.

But if we don’t trust what’s written, how can we live?

The world has rules. We have to follow the rules!

Otherwise, we’re lost.

Shipwrecked. Wandering. Useless.

We need to follow the rules and follow the law.

A house cannot house fifteen people.

4 a.m. is not a good time to listen to blaring music, is it?

This is what you need to understand.

Bank robbery is illegal!

What if the law changed?

What if there was a law authorizing me to rob 53,507 from the bank?

In that case, you’d be free to rob the bank. I’d even help you!

And who can produce this law?

Well...

The government makes the laws.

The Prime Minister decides.

But now it’s time to get in the car. I’m going to take you home.

And where does he live?

Who? The Prime Minister?

Where does the Prime Minister live?

At the National Assembly, I guess.

Are you recording? You can’t do that!

And where can one find the National Assembly?

This is me watching a dog on Alexandre Herculano street.

This is the dog whining.

This is the dog whining fewer and fewer.

This is the dog lying motionless in the middle of Alexandre Herculano street.

This is the dead dog.

This is me thinking that the man who is my father is at home,

lonely and blurry, unaware that I’m here on Alexandre Herculano street.

Everything will be fine, Giraffe.

Who are you, sir?

I'm the girl’s father.

Your name?

Anton.

António?

Anton.

Anton?

Anton what?

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov.

And the girl?

The girl’s name is Sasha.

Sasha Chekhov, is this gentleman your father?

You don’t look like immigrants.

The girl was born here in Portugal.

Shouldn’t she be in school?

We have rules here. Children have to go to school.

A child can’t just walk the streets on her own.

Not to mention robbing banks!

Much less casting doubt on the city’s place-names.

It’s dangerous, you see? A child. The big city.

You are absolutely right, my good sir.

I apologise for what has occurred. My daughter is very...

How would you say in Portuguese?

Absent-minded?

No. Not that. Another word. A Russian word.

I don’t know how to say it in Portuguese.

Have a good day!

Judy Garland!

I like it very much...

but your project is not about giraffes, my dear.

It’s about the reason why you wanted to do a project on giraffes.

I’m not sure I can apprehend the true sense of that declaration.

When we write, we offer a part of ourselves.

Novels, plays, school projects, letters...

Post-it notes?

Post-it notes?

Post-its...

They’re yellow slips of paper with a glue strip on the back,

for leaving messages.

That, too...

Novels, plays, school projects, letters, post-it notes.

Whenever you write...

You’re cutting out a part of your body and offering it up to the person who reads it.

It’s a way for that person to be with you.

It’s as if you’d cut your hand off and then give it to someone

so they can always hold hands with you.

I once wrote something about a seagull, but it wasn’t really about the seagull.

It was about the things that moved me and annoyed me

and the things I felt were important.

That’s the only thing that matters.

Your work can speak about giraffes, but it doesn’t have to be about giraffes.

It has to be about what matters to you.

What is it that really matters to you?

Who are you? Are you really Chekhov?

Yes I am.

The Bulgarian scientist?

Bulgarian Scientist?

Judy Garland told me you invented a method for disappearing in 1898.

He said that, did he?

This is Judy Garland.

He only conducts exchanges with me.

He’s terribly shy around other people.

He said I invented a method for disappearing?

Yes, the method of taking a deep breath and screaming.

Is this not true?

Yes, it is.

Of course it’s true.

If you invented it in 1898...

I am of the opinion that you should have a more aged appearance.

It so happens that I died when I was 44.

Are you genuinely dead?

Yes...

Dead like the dog in Alexandre Herculano?

Dead as a dog.

How is the occasion of dying?

For me it was quite startling.

Once I realised what was happening...

I asked the hotel maid to bring me a bottle of champagne.

I wanted a glass of champagne before I died...

But the maid was too late.

Or I was too early.

Anyway...

From that day, I’ve been 44.

I don’t age.

We, the dead, do not age.

And how does it feel to be a dead person?

Quite boring really.

I spend my days searching for the way to Moscow but I can’t seem to find it.

I can’t use maps because cartographers lie

and no place is really where it says on the map.

Not even Moscow?

Especially Moscow.

Sometimes I think I'll only get to Moscow...

if I try to go someplace else.

That's how I ended up in Lisbon.

And now...

I need you to help me.

Me?

Yes, you, my dear.

But what can I undertake?

I'm probably not the right person.

Have you ever tried champagne?

No.

Then you’re the perfect choice.

I’d like you to take a sip of champagne.

I want you to drink it for the first time in your life

and then tell me what it tastes like.

But you have to use your own words.

Life’s not about finding words in the dictionary.

Life’s about choosing synonyms.

So?

Explosion.

Explosion.

Explosion is a good word!

Great choice.

Did I help you?

Very much.

How?

During those seconds between tasting the champagne

and saying “explosion”...

When you were searching for the right word

to describe what you were feeling...

While crossing this chasm between what life is and the futile attempt to describe it...

Yes...

I felt close to Moscow.

Thank you, Giraffe.

This is the National Assembly.

And now I must leave.

But first, I want to give you my roubles.

This is all the money I have. It’s of no use to me now.

Take it. It’s yours.

You can use it to pay the guard at the gate.

I hope you manage to get your Discovery Channel...

Or whatever else you really desire.

Good luck!

And be careful...

It’ll be nightfall soon.

It’s harder to find your way home in the dark.

Don’t go!

Wait...

Stay a little longer.

I can’t...

This is Chekhov.

Goodbye, Chekhov.

Fuck yeah!

He was fucking incredible, wasn’t he?

Fuck!

He’s incredible!

Do you think I could’ve been like that?

I mean, if I wasn’t a bear...

Do you think I could have been like that?

Come on, Judy Garland!

Fuck!

That’s one big palace!

I've seen it on TV.

It’s where they cut salaries and pensions.

Fuck!

It’s fucking beautiful.

Hello...

Hello.

Are you looking for your mother?

No.

She must be out there in the hall.

Don’t worry...

You haven’t interrupted anything much. I was only...

eating a croissant.

Do you think you can find your mother all by yourself?

She was here just now. She came in to empty the bins.

I think I’ve seen you around here.

Your mother has brought you along before, hasn’t she?

No!

It's all right.

Your mother will not be in trouble for bringing you along.

It’s only normal.

I’m sure it’s hard to find someone to look after you.

Are you the Prime Minister?

I am.

Can you help me?

You need help?

Do you need me to take you to your mother?

I have the need for a law that will allow me to rob a bank.

What?

I find myself on the occasion of soliciting from you a law

that makes it legal to rob a bank for the amount of 53,507.

You're funny.

Is this a prank?

Who put you up to this?

You’re patronizing me.

Look, my dear, I’m not sure I understand what is going on here.

I consider it inconceivable not to possess the Discovery Channel.

Do you understand the scale of the problem?

That’s exactly it, my dear. I don't understand.

I need you to write a law that declares that I can undertake a bank robbery

for the amount of 53,507 so I can possess the Discovery Channel

for the rest of my life...

And produce my school project on giraffes...

because the man who is my father doesn't deserve any money

at the end of the month.

Look, my dear...

I’d love to help you, but I have so much to do today...

Shall we call your mother?

No.

I think we’d better.

The cleaning lady is not my mother.

Who’s your mother, then? Does she work here?

Let’s go find her.

So, you won’t help me?

I would help, my dear.

If I could.

But you can! Write the law.

So you can rob a bank?

Yes.

I can’t do that.

Yes, you can.

I really can’t.

You can’t legalize bank robbery.

It’s a matter of principle, you see?

A Prime Minister cannot make an unfair law

that will only benefit you and harm everyone else.

It’s not ethical, you see? Ethical?

Are you really the Prime Minister?

I am.

Then you’re the only one who possesses the power to write this law.

That’s never going to happen, my dear.

I desire you to write this law!

I’ve already said no!

It’s imperative that you write this law!

Do not raise your voice, please.

Write the law!

This is going nowhere...

Where’s your mother? Or your father?

You're the only person who can help me.

Please write the law.

Write the law and everything will be fine. Write the law!

Hold on.

Will you write the law?

Listen...

Banks are where people keep their money.

To help the Portuguese people.

That's a lie! Just like the Maldives.

The Maldives?

Have you ever been to the Maldives?

They don’t exist!

They’re made up, to make people walk round in circles.

The only solution is to rob the bank.

The Prime Minister is the head of government, isn’t he?

The woman who was my mother told me that we’re the ones

who pay the Government’s wages.

It’s not just your family!

All families, including my own.

Where’s your mother?

Are you here on your own?

Does your mother know you're here?

Please, help me.

Tell me where your mother is and I’ll see what I can do.

You’re lying.

I can only help you if I can talk to your mother first.

That's not possible.

Fuck! Sorry, kid.

I can’t keep quiet any longer. This has gone far enough!

Fucking cunt, motherfucker!

Look here!

How would you like to feel the sharp edge of the sword of Spartacus Chekhov?

Judy Garland.

Judy what?

You think I don’t cry every time I see you on TV?

I cry. I get so sad and so angry!

But then I think, what can I do?

I'm just a teddy bear!

What can a teddy bear do?

Judy Garland.

What can a teddy bear called Judy Garland do?

Judy Garland?

Yes, Judy fucking Garland! Judy Garland, cunt!

I don’t understand.

Let me explain it to you.

This kid is here asking for your help.

Are you listening?

You...

have the power to fucking help her!

Just fucking help the kid!

Are you OK?

Just help the kid and stop going on about ethical principles and shit.

You don’t have a fucking answer?

He can’t hear you.

Fuck!

Fuck, I know he can’t hear me. Fuck, cock, cunt.

Are you talking to me?

Let me handle this.

Yes, it’s better. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy!

Just looking at him makes me feel helpless.

Fucking hell!

Listen, my dear...

You seem confused...

No.

You are. You're confused.

So this is what we’ll do.

I'll call a nice policeman who can help you find your mother.

How’s that?

You know what this smell is?

What smell?

This one, smell it.

It seems like...

Panther.

Panther?

Yes, I smell like a panther. Smell me again.

If you don’t help me, I will tell the police that you were a pedophile to me.

Excuse me?

Either you write the law or I’ll tell the police that you were a pedophile to me.

I'm here trying to help you and...

This conversation is over!

Tell me your name immediately, before I lose it!

Write the law.

I'll call the police.

And I’ll tell them that you were a pedophile to me.

Oh yeah? And what are you going to say?

I don’t know. We’ll see.

And you think the police will believe a girl like you

rather than the Prime Minister of Portugal?

Yes. I do.

Who sent you here?

Is this a scam?

Do you have a recorder on you?

This is horrible!

Disgusting!

Using a child like this!

Who sent you here?

No one.

What do you really want? What’s the point of all this?

What are your parent’s names?

If you write the law, I’ll tell you.

No, no, no, no, no.

I won’t give in to blackmail.

You’re not in a position to negotiate anything.

Tell me who your parents are before I lose it!

I'll tell the police that you shouted at me, and you smelled me.

Wait. Wait...

I’m sorry!

I lost my temper. I’m sorry.

And I'll tell the police you said I smelled of panther.

It’s not your fault. You’re confused.

You’re being manipulated.

And that after that you were a pedophile to me.

I said I'm sorry!

You’re shouting again?

The cleaning lady will lend her ear to your shouting.

She observed me coming in here.

What’s going on inside that head of yours?

Write the law and I’ll make my way towards another location.

You’ll leave?

Yes.

To write the law, I need your name, or your parent’s name.

This is what you should write:

The bearer of this letter...

has the right to rob any bank...

to the amount of 53,507...

for the purpose of possessing the Discovery Channel...

for the rest of her life.

And now stamp it.

I don’t have a stamp.

Then write your name and say that you’re Prime Minister.

It would look more genuine with a stamp, but that’s OK.

And since you’re on the occasion of writing the law...

add that banks are forbidden to lie...

and must honor the words on their posters, leaflets and windows.

And that the old man who smells of soup

should have a bigger pension...

for the purpose of obtaining soup that doesn’t come out of a packet.

…soup that doesn’t come out of a packet…

And also write one that says...

that all bank clerks should drink coffee with sugar.

And panthers should not be attacked by their enemies in uniform.

And that Chekhov should be able to drink champagne every day

as if it were for the first time.

And that the woman who was your mother should come back…

No.

But he's making a new law! He can make her come back.

Tell him to make her come back!

That's not possible, Judy.

No?

Not even with a law?

No.

The woman who was my mother will never come back.

Fuck!

Shit.

That's sad...

Done. There you go.

Are you leaving now?

Take it.

Are you leaving now?

I wrote everything you said. You can read it if you like.

No.

What now?

I don't want the paper.

This really is a law. Isn’t that what you wanted?

No. It turns out it’s not what I wanted.

I am regretful for having bothered you.

Alright!

I don’t want to know. Whatever.

I'll call the police and they can deal with you.

One!

Two!

Three!

It worked!

Judy Garland?

What is it?

It's time.

For what?

I think it's time to die, Judy Garland.

Are you serious?

Yes. I will keep the promise I undertook to you.

Are you sure?

I will possess some suffering, but I'm convinced that this is what you desire.

Is it?

I am persuaded that you'll be happy to die.

You hate existing.

True…

Are you ready?

Wait!

Let me look at your room for a bit.

Just a minute.

You know…

I don’t think…

the time’s come yet…

Judy.

Fuck, kid.

For fuck's sake.

It’s not time yet.

I want to die but I’m not ready.

Life is shit but I don’t want to die!

I do, but not now.

Later.

Fuck.

Cock!

Can't it be later?

It’s imperative that it is now.

Bitch.

Bitch, bitch, bitch.

I will miss you so much.

Are you ready?

I am.

Goodbye, Spartacus Chekhov.

I spy, I spy.

What do you spy?

Something…

What thing?

A wonderful thing! Fucking wonderful!

Cock! Bitch! Wonderful!

This is me...

here and now...

on the occasion of finishing the presentation of my school project entitled

“Sadness and joy in the life of giraffes”.

I hope you’ve derived some pleasure from this work

and that you did not possess boredom.

The End

The shooting of this film was only possible

thanks to the co-financing of the authors, the cast, the crew,

the equipment suppliers and the location sets.

A film by

from a play by

soundtrack by