All language subtitles for The Xango From Baker Street (2001).eng

Two years before
the Abolition of Slavery,

and three years before
the Proclamation of the Republic,

the cafes and bookstores
were the main meeting places

of the intellectuals and bohemians
of the town.

Olavo Bilac, the prince of poets.

The Marquis de Salles,
bohemian and enfant gâté of the court.

Chiquinha Gonzaga, a star,

skilled pianist and composer.

José Do Patrocinio, novelist
and combative journalist.

Salomão Calif, tailor;

he dressed the elegant half
of the town.

Miguel Solera de Lara,
owner of the main bookstore,

The Refuge of Aphrodite.

They fought
for the freedom of the slaves,

and they discussed republican ideas.

THE DIVINE SARAH
AND THE PREMIERE IN BRAZIL

Nanine, get me my things,
I need to go out.

We talked about you every day.

No one else dared mention your name.

She comforted me. She told me
that we would see each other again.

She was not lying.

Have you seen beautiful lands?
Will you take me there?

It's no big deal. Thanks.

Happiness has been denied
to me for so long

that I have to hurry.

Nanine, give me a hat and a scarf.

Armand came back!
I want to live! I have to live!

I... I can't...

You will speak about me sometimes,
won't you, Armand?

Give me your hand.

It's very strange...

I don't suffer anymore.

I feel a well-being
that I've never felt.

I want to live.

I feel good.

She is dead.

Long live the emperor!

And long live
the great lady of the theatre!

-What spirit!
-What riposte!

Come on.

I do hope Your Majesty
did like the play.

How do you think
you would bore me?

Our stages aren't
like European stages,

that is my only regret.

A stage is just a stage
and the world is a stage!

What we see on the stage
is what matters.

In this case,
what we've just seen is

the most beautiful
and illuminated stage.

I noticed that you were a little late.

A friend of mine,

one of your greatest admirers,

the Baroness of Avaré...

Who?

Her name is Dalia Maria
Luísa Catarina de Albuquerque.

It happens that our baroness,

she owned a very rare violin,

a Stradivarius, think about that.

Well, their violin has been stolen,

and Maria Luísa is inconsolable.

I understand.
And the police, what do they say?

Look, the violin was
a gift from me to her.

Although our friendship
is purely platonic,

the Empress would hate to see

this matter in the newspapers.

Yes. I understand your problem,
Your Majesty.

Listen, maybe I can help you.

Come sit next to me.

Perhaps I can help you
and your marquise, that is, baroness.

You know, Your Majesty,
I'm a good friend of Sherlock Holmes,

the best detective in the world.
Sure, you've heard of him.

Madam, I must confess my ignorance.

Well, Holmes is the first detective
in the world

to use
the deductive rational method.

Once, Holmes recovered
the missing jewelry

of a Russian singer just by examining
the clothes she had worn

at a banquet for the Emperor.

-For me?
-No, Your Majesty, for Napoleon III.

Well?

Due to the advanced state
of rigor mortis,

death must have ocurred
yesterday at dawn.

The victim appears to be
between 15 and 20 years old.

Saraiva, anyone can see that.

Chief Mello Pimenta, listen to me,

procedures are procedures.

There's liver damage,

probably due to the excessive
ingestion of alcoholic beverages.

If she hadn't been murdered,

she would be a candidate
for early cirrhosis.

She was a prostitute!

The cause of death is laceration
of the larynx and the pharynx,

in a horizontal cut,
from left to right.

The aggressor had
great physical strength.

Her ears were extirpated
with great skill.

Saraiva...

Are there any details that
have gone unnoticed before?

Might it have been revenge?

The final touch.
Literally speaking.

-What is this?
-Looks like a mandolin string.

Well, at least it's a clue,
a mandolin string.

Or from a ukulele, I don't know,
some musical instrument.

Could the killer be a musician?

Maybe yes, maybe not.

Listen, from the violence
of the crime,

and the place where the string was...

I think that he's quite a lunatic.

THE REFUGE OF APHRODITE

In this bookstore we sell books,
Mr. Bilac.

You are not in a library.

So, would you prefer me
to fold the pages and screw it up?

What kind of bookseller are you?

Miguel, have you received
Zola's latest book, "Germinal"?

Yes, and it's very interesting.

It's about a miners rebellion.

It isn't a rebellion, it's a strike.

-Isn't that the same thing?
-For some.

That is why the imperial police
continue to fabricate

legal proceedings
against us abolitionists.

For all that,
I'm going to live in London

and open a bookstore in the East End.

This city cannot live
without "The Refuge of Aphrodite".

Only my mother's illness
ties me to Brazil.

I don't know
where you got this anglophilia.

Everything you're thinking of
is in Paris.

It is useless
to speak of Shakespeare

to the ears of Molière.

Do not be angry.
If you want to go, then go.

You do not lack money.

Did you by any chance
read Múcio Prado today?

"Two days ago I had the pleasure
of having dinner with Sarah Bernhardt,

woman of radiant beauty and talent.

The divine actress
revealed to this humble writer

that our beloved monarch
has been troubled. "

"At the suggestion
of Sarah Bernhardt herself,

our esteemed emperor will invite
an English detective

to unravel the mystery of the theft

of the famous Stradivarius violin,

owned by Dalia Maria Luísa
Catarina de Albuquerque.

Who would have offered
such a regal present

to the beautiful Baroness of Avaré?"

So, Your Majesty had the audacity
to give that woman

a violin coveted throughout the world,

a jewel in the shape of a fiddle!

That's absurd!

I don't know where that fellow
got this news from.

From the same source
you confided in...

from the lips of an actress.

Furthermore, you have the audacity
to invite an English detective

to carry out the investigations.

But what is that, my God?
What's that?

Do you want to demoralize our police?

I know, I know, I know!

You don't want to listen to reason.

There is nothing I can do,
but ask for permission and withdraw.

Another piece of cornmeal cake?

No, just the beverage, thanks.

Odd reading for a baroness.

My dear Miguel,
it is good to know what happens

when the aristocracy forgets
its people.

Besides, you know
that I am noble by marriage.

My father was a butcher,

like many people at court
insist on remembering.

I'd rather say that he was

a wealthy meat shop owner.

Finally my Balzac arrived!

"Splendors and Miseries
of Courtesans".

A suggestive title, isn't it, Miguel?

The Emperor.

I take this opportunity to leave;
I'm expected at the bookstore.

I know, I know.

Enough, this is no time for jokes.

Have you already read
the newspapers?

I had a lot of fun
with your caricature.

Maybe the beard was a bit too long.

It's not about that!

I've already fretted enough
about that theft.

Better lose the saddle than the horse.

Anyway,

it'll be fun to have
an English detective in court.

I'm sorry that you approach
everything with such frivolity.

The Empress is furious.

Now everyone knows
that I gave you the violin.

How do they know?

Who other than I

would have the guts
to do something crazy like that?

My friend!

I think you served yourself
in a plate, as they say.

I could have bought a Stradivarius.

My husband left me a lot of money,
as you know.

Dalia Maria, the baroness

She is young and very graceful

She is a widow and for sure...

Rich, beautiful and desired.

What will they say, if they find out
that we are in the same room?

They will probably refuse
to believe it

looking away,
like they do when they stumble

on the blacks
and filthy beggars in town.

If the scenery is terrible,
then close the window.

Isn't it like that?

Won't you dine with us, Haroldo?

I can't,
I already have an appointment.

Little girl, what's your name?

Glória.

Glória, what a beautiful name.

To Glória,
a beautiful and young Brazilian

who saw me
in Le Passant, in Rio.

There you go, kid. Good luck.

Saraiva!

Look... No ears,
and another string.

Another prostitute?

No, she's from a decent family,
chamber maid at the Imperial Palace.

Her name is Glória Meireles,
niece of the painter, Victor.

-Victor Meireles?
-Yes.

My God, a friend of the Emperor.
That's all I needed.

What is she holding?

Saraiva!

Allow me.

"Sarah Bernhardt."

À vos ordres.

À vos ordres.

Police Chief...

Your servant.

Be seated...

I beg you.

-Be careful not to cut yours!
-What?

Your ears.

You know I dislike
those jests of yours.

Drink your coffee
before it gets cold.

This case is getting complicated.
I do not even know where to begin.

Why don't you ask for help
from the English detective

the Emperor hired to solve the theft

of Baroness of Avaré's
valuable violin.

The violin!

Will it be a violin string?

It is too black.

No... I'll wear
one of my evening my dance clothes.

The white one.

All covered with little roses.

That's the one I want.

That's the one...

No.
That is the one I want.

And you shall see
how pretty I am.

And how, once again,
you will be with Frou-Frou.

Poor Frou-Frou.

A huge mouse! Help!

The theater is full of them!
What a disgrace!

And those lights! Nothing can be seen!
They are too weak!

Instead of a morning scene,
it looks like midnight!

It's impossible
to work under these conditions!

Also, the climate is awful.

As soon as I'm done, I'm leaving!

I wonder what I came to do
in this country!

It's more like a jungle!

And you, sir, what are you doing here?
Who are you?

Chief Inspector Mello Pimenta.

At your service.

Sit down, I beg you.

What a surprise!
Do you speak French?

-I do not speak French.
-He doesn't speak French, ma'am.

Sorry to keep you waiting,
we were rehearsing.

She apologizes
for keeping you waiting.

Madame, do you recognize this?

Yes.

A lovely girl who
was outside the theater.

She gave that autograph
when she left the theater,

but she doesn't know the girl.

They murdered her! Murdered!

Do you remember
whether she was with anyone?

She was mur...

He wants to know whether you remember
someone with her.

I did not notice.
Apparently she was alone.

Maybe she was with someone,
but I don't remember. I'm sorry.

She doesn't remember it.
She's a little late.

Anything else?

I hope you catch the monster
that killed that poor girl.

Good luck with the investigation,

and, as we say
in the French theater world, merde!

She wishes you good luck.

"Merde" to you too.

"Horses will not gallop
through the streets;

only the Cavalry,
in case of emergency.

Public urinals shall be constructed

to prevent citizens from relieving
themselves on the sidewalk.

Finally, all the spittoons
will be removed from the streets."

Will this law catch on?

Tomorrow I will meet
the English detective on the docks.

I heard he's coming with a doctor.

-He's sick, is he a hypochondriac?
-An inseparable friend.

Will he be homosexual?

That's all we need,
an English fairy.

Aren't ours enough?

The other day, one of them
asked me for a pair of pants

with a zipper at the rear
to facilitate the vice.

"I'll pay what is necessary.
I have money!"

Seriously, I can't believe
they brought an English detective

-to look for a fiddle.
-Not a fiddle.

It's a Stradivarius,
it's worth a fortune.

Not much as the lives
of those young women.

Especially with our police,
more concerned

with persecuting the abolitionists,
instead of saving lives.

Calm down, Mr. Bilac,
there is nothing against you;

the newspapers exaggerate.

If our young people
stopped writing manifestos,

what would become of the country?
I just came to have a beer.

Bring me a Dois Machados beer!

What a coincidence, we were
talking about the murdered girls.

Quite a problem, isn't it?

Two beautiful young women, victims
of the same barbarous murderer.

How do you know
it is the same person?

This year alone, there are
already 15 murders in the city.

I suppose. They were killed
with the same type of weapon.

What weapon?

A sharp, cutting object.

Chief Inspector,
there are many sharp objects

that can produce similar results.

Any cook knows that.

Long live, Chiquinha,
our detective in skirts!

Perhaps Miss Chiquinha
can help us with her dowries.

This is confidential.

They were found next to...

Entwined around the bodies
of the young women.

I want to know what musical
instrument they belonged.

Elementary, my dear friend.

They are violin strings,

first and the last, G and E.

I tell you more, you will only
find them at Viola d'Ouro.

-Do you speak Portuguese?
-I suppose so.

And do you still write to each other?

No, unfortunately he died,

tasting a concentrate of African
scorpion venom.

Thanks.

Amazing! What is this?

It's called feijoada.

Black beans cooked
with several kinds of meat:

pigs' ears and feet,
salted dried beef,

pork sausage and other varieties.
Delicious!

I am enjoying your land
very much.

I am very sad
that I have to go to Argentina.

The life of an artist
is very cruel.

Mr. Holmes,

try another rib with malagueta pepper
and pirão.

It is an infallible recipe
for good digestion.

Thanks. But I want another
slice of fish with dendê oil.

It's better not to exaggerate
with dendê.

And you, Emperor,
don't you like feijoada with vatapá?

They are medical orders, Mr. Holmes.

I can't believe these delicacies
could do any harm.

The lady too, just salad?

I am like the Emperor.

The doctor has forbidden me
everything,

red meat, egg, caviar,
goose liver, cassoulet,

all that is good in the world.

With that, I agree.

I hope your friend won't mind.

I feel more comfortable
speaking with you alone.

It's a delicate matter,
do you understand?

Don't worry about Watson.

I know you're tired from your journey.

I won't steal any more
time than necessary.

I don't even know where to begin.

Try to do it from the beginning.

-It was nothing.
-I'm so sorry.

Well, then...

The last violin made
by Antonio Stradivari

was an instrument called,
with good reason,

"The Swan Song."

Its sonority is almost incredible.

The only detail, which is also moving,

and betray the tremor
of his aged hands

is the slightly unsure intaglio

of the two openings which form

the acoustic system of the top.

I hope I'm not boring you.

No, certainly not.

First of all, I want to tell you
that I admire your support...

As patron of the arts.

I was already familiar
with the Brazilian musical talent.

I had the privilege to attend

the premiere of "Guarani"
at La Scala in Milan.

I was only 16,
but I remember it as if it were today.

It was the first opera I ever saw.

Fantastic!

Some time ago,

a friend of mine,
the Baroness of Avaré,

expressed to me her desire
to have a Stradivarius.

And you know
what feminine whims are like.

That's why I'm still single.

All is well that ends well.

Unless the fact
that the Stradivarius was stolen.

That's right, I think I'll have
a talk with the Baroness now.

I want to know exactly
how the violin disappeared.

My coachman will take you
to the Baroness's residence.

I hope my investigations
prove successful.

I thank Your Majesty
for that magnificent luncheon.

We were presented
with magical delicacies.

Good afternoon.

Do you want some coffee?

It is freshly ground.

Thank you.

The sweet potato candies
are from Castellões,

one of our best confectioners.

Well...

I don't know how I can help you.

The Baroness would be astonished

how important small details are

to those who carry out
the exercise of deduction.

For example,
I can say that you are a widow.

Your husband was the owner
of an appreciable fortune.

He died as a result
of a hunting accident;

he was hunting on the bank of a river.

I know that he was
much older than you, madam,

and that when he died,
he left all his property to you.

It's amazing!
How did you deduce all that?

I read it in the "Brazilian Peerage"
that I found in the hotel.

I'd like to know from where
the instrument has disappeared.

It was not from here.

One of the pegs was loose,
making tuning difficult.

One of my servants took it
to the Viola d'Ouro store.

The coffee is magnificent.

One day, the world will surrender
to the quality of Brazilian coffee.

May I speak to the servant
who took the instrument?

Yes.

This is Mukumbe,
my guardian angel.

He was my father's slave,
but today is a free man,

manumatted by me.

He takes care of everything here.

I don't know why,
but I feel safe in his company.

I want to know if someone
followed you to the repair shop.

No, sir.
There is no living man, or ghost,

who can chase me
through the streets.

Are you sure the violin
was in the case?

Yes, sir. I saw when the lady
stored it before giving it to me.

It was after we played a waltz.

I forgot to say that Mukumbe
is a virtuoso pianist.

He plays the harpsichord and organ
in our masses.

And what kind of music do you play?

It depends.
In the church, sacred music.

With the lady, polkas, waltzes.

But what I like most
are maxixe and samba.

Maxixe?

Excellent!

Good evening, Mr. Isidoro.

-Good night. Do you wish something?
-A liter of milk, please.

For you, everything.

Here it is.

Thanks.

-Good evening.
-Good evening.

No!

Help!

Help!

Help!

-A man tried to kill me!
-Stay here, I'll be back.

I am Sherlock Holmes!

Get out or I shoot!

A mulatto with generous breasts?

That's right, do you know
where I can find her?

I know she is an actress.

But I doubt that you can
get anywhere with her.

It's for an investigation.

We know the value of a true mulatto.
Isn't that right, my friend?

Good afternoon.

Yes, there is no question.

They are very fine strings,
made of gut.

Of excellent origin.

May I ask where you found this string?

Yes, but I can't answer.
The investigation is confidential.

So it is related
to the case of the dead girls.

Has anyone bought strings lately?

Yes, a violinist named Haroldo,

he is in the Mrs. Bernhardt play.

-Haroldo?
-Yes.

How many did he buy?

A full set.
Four strings, a full set.

Four strings...

Inspector Mello Pimenta,
I presume.

That's right.
How do you know who I am?

I went to the police station
and they told me you'd be here.

Sherlock Holmes and my friend,
Dr. Watson.

I didn't know you both
spoke our language.

Only me. Dr. Watson
doesn't understand a word.

-As you see...
-Good thing I found you.

It was I who found you,
my dear Pimenta.

Please wait two minutes,
I need to speak to Mr. Peruggio.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

It was my own carelessness.

I left the instrument here.

They broke into the store,
and stole the violin.

What could I do?

Why did you leave such a precious
violin within easy reach?

They steal everything here,
food, clothes, boots, everything.

But I could not imagine
that those illiterates

would steal a violin.

Your neglect has cause
great displeasure to the Baroness

and, of course, the Emperor.

The Baroness and the Emperor?

Me?

But no!

No!

Do you have any idea
who the thief might be?

No, sir. None. Nothing.

See you later, Mr. Giacomo.

I have many things to tell you.

There's no need.

I know that as well as cutting off
their ears with a dagger,

he puts the violin string
in the pubic hair of the poor girls

and then goes out
playing through the streets.

Amazing!
Several people told police

that they heard someone playing
a violin on the street.

But the newspaper says nothing
about it.

I know because I was
with your murderer last night.

He was carrying his instrument,

probably he was going to play it,
but I stopped him.

A pretty woman, a mulatto.

Wide hips, generous breasts.

I have to find her anyway.

We have to find her.

If she saw the murderer's face,
she also saw the violin thief.

Why does he leave the strings?

-May I examine them?
-Of course.

-There is no trace of the ears?
-No.

Serial killer?

Serial killer!

That expression defines well
our killer.

He has already killed two.

Think about it,
the violin has four strings:

G, D, A, E.

He already used two strings,
there are still two left.

Are you telling me
that he will kill two more?

Our job is to prevent these crimes.

Do you realize that my situation
is very delicate?

Before long people will think

that the Emperor
does not trust the chief of police,

not even to solve the theft
of a fiddle!

-Stradivarius.
-Stra... what?

-Stradivarius.
-Various or one, it's just a fiddle.

Pimenta, did you tell
the English detective

about our main suspect...

Haroldo?

No, since we haven't gathered
all the evidence.

You are the authority.
The police don't need evidence.

We are talking about a serial killer.

-Of a "serious" what?
-Se-rial-killer.

It was the name Mr. Holmes gave
to criminals that kills in series.

I tell you, Dr. Coelho Bastos,

it's not going to be easy
to discover the man,

because he kills for no reason.

The first thing we learn in the police

is to find out
the motive of the crime.

Let's avoid embarrassment, Pimenta.

We are going to arrest
that man to show the Emperor

that our police don't need
an English detective.

I'll explain in a moment,

and you will understand, finally,

that in the body and in the thought

I am an unsexual being.

Apparently, you are already
getting used to Brazil.

It is a fascinating place.
I am enchanted by the customs.

The people are extremely cordial.

But there's something I do not
understand, it's about the clothes.

Why do the men wear black,
as in Europe, in a tropical country?

You must understand
that civilization has its price.

-Inspector, I found a violin.
-No strings! Hold this.

It was Gouveia, right?

My dear fellow, you are in trouble.
Take him away!

I don't understand, Coelho Bastos.

Did you find the Stradivarius or not?

Your Majesty, I will use
a technical term to answer you.

No. The violin has not yet been found.

But Your Majesty can rest assured,

we will find the Stradivarius.

The important thing is,
the murderer has been caught.

And everything leads us
to believe that the violin thief

is also the "killer serial."
No, the "kerial siller."

The murderer, Your Majesty.

I think the railway project
is an excellent idea.

I will make arrangements
to get the study done.

What project? Project!
Perfect, Your Majesty.

Good afternoon.

It is a very important project.

Brazil needs railways.

Yes!

How many times should I say it?

It was my wife. She is bigger than me,
she weighs a hundred kilos.

And their ears?

Did you eat your ears?

Ears?
What are you talking about?

You've been in trouble
with the police four times.

I'm in no hurry.
You are going to confess!

I'm not lying!
It was my wife, I already told you!

She cheats on me with Sgt. Gouveia,
who lives on my street.

Each time I complain,
Marieta beats me.

Then the sergeant
goes to the police station,

and reports it backwards.
He says it was me who hit her!

How did you learn to speak French?

A student grant from His Majesty!

I studied music in Paris!

Why don't you leave your wife?

It certainly isn't
because of her beauty!

Marieta is very jealous!
If I leave her, she kills me!

"Beard and hair."

Well.

"Beard and hair."

I told Mr. Holmes that you were
the best tailor in town.

Don't let me down, Calif.

Something for a special occasion?

I have the best
and most beautiful flannel

and cashmeres from your country.
What do you prefer?

Neither one nor the other.
I want four white linen suits.

Of linen?

But here nobody with class wears that.

That's for the rabble.

-I'll make it fashionable.
-So linen it shall be.

And white, don't forget,
more appropriate for the heat.

About the style,
Mr. Holmes, any ideas?

Nothing special.

The jackets, loose,
with space for the revolver.

and that the pockets are deep,

I always carry with me
a pipe and a magnifying glass.

I notice that you are
extremely well endowed.

Don't be silly,
Mr. Salomão, it's the pipe.

Beard and hair.

I understand, sir. I want to know
if you want me to trim your hair

or if I do a complete cut.

Beard and hair.

Is it just to trim?

Beard and hair.

Do you me to cut it?

But sir...

Hello! Nice to see you.
I owe you my apologies.

Apologies?
Why would you have to apologize?

You saved my life
and I didn't wait to thank you.

Given the circumstances,
it is understandable.

How did you find out that I work here?

Don't forget I'm a detective.
Sherlock Holmes, at your service.

The English detective.
I read about you in the newspapers.

It is a pleasure. Ana Candelária.

I would be honored
if you would accept an invitation

to dine with me
and Inspector Mello Pimenta.

We are investigating
some horrible crimes,

and your presence is essential
to help solve the case.

Sure, I want you to find the killer.

Please call me Ana.

Of course,
if you just call me Sherlock.

I don't understand why you didn't
report your encounter with the killer.

I was afraid. I did not know
how I would be received.

You know that my profession
is still confused with prostitution.

The police treat everyone
with respect, even prostitutes.

Could you give me
a description of the assailant?

Impossible, inspector.

He wore a cape,
a mask covered his face,

and a hat pulled down over his head.
Everything went very fast.

If it wasn't for Sherlock,
I wouldn't be here.

Apparently it could be anyone.

Even someone right here,
observing us.

How? Do you think he might come
to our restaurant?

I don't think anything.
For all we know, it could be you.

Let's not exaggerate, Mr. Holmes.

Now, if you excuse me,

I have to accompany
the young lady home.

The deductive method has
its limitations.

How could he deduce

that such a hot day
would turn into such a pleasant night?

Where do you want to go?

I would like to know your hotel.

They say the apartments are wonderful.

To hotel!

Heavens, what a soft bed.

The room is more beautiful
than I imagined.

Can I offer you something?
Tea, sherry, cocaine?

Cocaine?

It is a stimulant.
I learned how to use with a friend.

Sigmund Freud, a doctor from Vienna.

I'd have thought
I was stimulant enough.

Ana...

I must confess something terrible.

What?

I...

I am...

I am a virgin.

Did you take a vow of chastity...

No. It's just that until I met you,
I hadn't thought about sex.

My mind was totally
focused on criminology.

Does it mean
I'm the first woman in your life?

Yes.

Do you understand
why I wanted to use cocaine?

My love, those drugs dispel desire.

You just need to relax.

What is this?

Indian cigarettes with cannabis,
an Asiatic plant.

What is it for?

The leaflet says
it is excellent for snoring,

asthma, insomnia, impotence.

It is a miraculous medicine
and calms the nerves.

Except for the smell,
I don't feel anything.

Wait, it always takes a little time.

It is funny...

I hadn't noticed the wallpaper.

Look, Ana, in addition to the birds,

it seems that the animals
are spinning around.

The birds are flying...

Listen!

Do you hear it?

-The insects?
-What?

The cicadas, Holmes.

-Cicadas?
-Cicadas.

-What is it?
-Do you know what I want?

What? I want you to do
what you want with me.

-To eat something sweet.
-Sweet?

I have an uncontrollable urge
for sweets.

Tea and toasts.

Would you like anything else,
Mr. Holmes?

Cocadas. Bring me a plate
with lots of cocadas.

"Eu te amo", Watson.

Excuse me, Mr. Holmes.

Good morning, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.

This is our coroner,
Professor Saraiva.

Do you know who the young woman is?

Yes, her name
was Albertina de Lourdes Calixto.

She worked at "The Wheel".

-Another prostitute.
-No.

No, Mr. Holmes, "The Wheel"
is a charitable institution

that takes in abandoned babies.

The young woman was the daughter
of a funeral agent, Josué Calixto.

She did voluntary work
at that institution.

Who found the body?

One of the nuns
from "Santa Casa da Misericórdia",

"The Wheel" is nearby.

I've already been there,
asking questions.

Did you find out if she had enemies,
if anyone followed her?

Nobody knows.
She was a very dear young woman.

There's a common feeling
of outrage and sadness.

The clues are the same.

What worries me

is that the violin
has one string left.

Mind if I do some investigating?

By all means.
It would be a favor.

Last night I abused some herbs
that a friend gave me.

Some Indian cigarettes.

-Have you tried our pango?
-Pango?

That's what the black people
call cannabis.

There was a lovely bed of it

behind the kitchen of His Majesty's
palace at São Cristóvão.

You'd better get back to the hotel,

I'll go to the morgue with Saraiva
to see the autopsy.

By no means,
we insist on watching the autopsy.

If you'll permit me,
the best medicine for this sensation

is some good cachaça.

I don't think it's wise to give
Mr. Holmes alcohol at this hour.

-Nonsense.
-I am going to the morgue!

He suggests that I put orange
or lemon juice in the drink.

-Do you have any of those fruits?
-We have lemons.

Ice and sugar, please.

-What mishmash is that?
-I do not know.

Something invented by
that hick, that caipira.

-Which, the tall one?
-No.

The tall hick is only drinking.

The little hick prepared everything,
the caipirinha.

-There's one thing I find strange.
-What thing?

I'm under the impression
the internal organs were repositioned.

As if the murderer had pulled them out
and then put them back in place.

Man alive!

You are correct!

Tell me, Mr. Holmes, please.

I know it's terrifying,

but I'm pretty sure the killer,

this monster,
he rubbed the liver on his own face.

At night, the beard begins to grow

and these tiny stretch marks
were surely made

by friction with the facial hairs.

Anathema!

Anathema!

Anathema!

My daughter!

My daughter!

My baby...

God, why didn't you
take me instead?

Mr. Calixto...

I'm Chief Inspector Mello Pimenta.

I know this is
a very difficult moment.

Even so, I have
a few questions to ask you.

Do you know if your daughter
had any new friends?

No!

She was completely dedicated
to the orphans.

Have you seen someone
lurking near your house lately?

No, she was very much loved.

I would like to be alone
with my daughter for a few moments.

Who is the pathologist in charge?

It's me, Saraiva.

If you finished the exams,

I'd like to use my talent
as a funeral agent

to give my unhappy girl
the appearance she had in life.

I don't want her to be seen like this,

I don't want a closed coffin either.

Sure, it's the least we can do.

My sympathies.

My sympathies.

"Dear chief,

By the time you read
these poorly drawn lines,

I shall be preparing
to execute better drawn lines

on the body of another whore.

What do you need to find me?

To find the crown jewels?

That I sign my full name

on the harlots' corpses?

I thought that English man
would be smarter than you

to read my clues.
But, apparently...

He is such an ass that he deserves
to have ears bigger

than all those I've cut off, together.

I hope you are having
as much fun as I am.

Do something soon, because I am hungry

and there's still one string
for the final concert.

Speaking of chords,
cordial greetings,

Oluparun."

It is not very enlightening.

It seems to me
that he does nothing but jest.

I think you're wrong, my love.

It seems to me that he is implying
that he attends the court.

Could the Mrs. Know-it-all
tell me why you think that?

Well, first,
this is an educated person.

I agree.

He was even careful
to write in a scrawl

so we couldn't identify him
by his handwriting.

And when he talks about
the crown jewels and a final concert,

he might be referring, indirectly,
to the charity recital

that the violinist
José White will organize this week

to honor Princess Isabel.

Therefore the murderer
has access to the court;

he could be a part of it.

How do you know all that?

I read Múcio Prado's society column.

Madam,

I must compliment you
on your intelligence

and ability for deduction.

Many thanks.

What does "Oluparun" mean?

I do not know.

Well, I'm just interested

that you appreciate
my culinary talents.

What have you prepared today?

Creole stewed liver.

Ladies and gentlemen.

I know tonight we have among us

Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
who everyone here knows

is a phenomenal English Detective.

But few people are aware
of his talent as a violinist.

I would ask you

to give us the honor
and the pleasure of playing with us.

Congratulations, friend.

Marquis, I didn't know you played
the violin so brilliantly.

Unforgettable!
Let me kiss you both.

It's impossible to say who was better.
You were both sublime.

-Bravo!
-Very kind.

Mr. Holmes, when you wish
to be in one of my plays,

do not be shy, his number
is worthy of any theater.

Thank you.

Watching a performance
like this one tonight,

I regret the theft
of my Stradivarius a little less.

I would never get to play like that.

Thanks.

Extraordinary,
a fusion of Paganini with D'Artagnan.

Thanks.

Many people think
this asymmetrical gardens

are an English invention.

And?

They are not, my love.
They were first used in China,

during the Lo-Tin-Ching reign.

Only later were they brought
to Europe by the English.

I see.

I am dying to kiss you.

Ana...

let's go to your house.

I can't,
my landlady is very severe.

So, let's go to my hotel.

It's too far away, don't stop.

Do not stop.

Police, you are under arrest!

Be calm! I assure you we didn't do
anything reprehensible.

We were just chatting.

You Portuguese are very insolent.

What do you think?

You have to respect the law.
This is no longer a colony.

You are mistaken.

I'm English,
and my name is Sherlock Holmes.

I don't care who you are.

You attacked morals
and proper behaviour

This is a public park,
not a brothel.

You are under arrest!

The young woman
has nothing to do with it.

All right, but if necessary,
she will testify later.

Let's go?

It is serious,
very serious what you did.

I've already told you
that I don't have to explain it.

Please, call Inspector Mello Pimenta.

I don't know how it is
in your country,

but here, the law is
the same for everyone.

Everyone!

I assure you that you will regret
this imprudent act!

The imprudence was yours,
wasn't it?

Guard, please take
the celebrity to the cell.

I demand at least an individual cell!

Release that man!

Release that man!

Are you ok, Mr. Holmes?

I came as soon as Miss Candelaria
informed me of this abuse!

I was looking for you.

We have an appointment
with Dr. Nina Milet,

a famous criminalist and pathologist
from Bahia who can help us.

So, what does "Oluparun" mean?

In Yorubá Nagô it means destroyer,

terminator.

So the killer is black.

In addition to struggling
for the abolition of slavery,

we must fight to prove
the innocence of black people.

You know well
that our marquis is hasty.

He is probably a mulatto.

How can you make
such a frivolous statement?

Mr. Holmes, here in Brazil,

only black and poor people
go to jail.

And the abolitionists, of course.

And the detectives,
don't forget.

It is purely scientific.

Read "Essay of the inequality
of human races"...

From Gobineau.

Close friend of our Emperor.

As Negroes belong to an inferior race,

the mixture leads to the creation
of degenerate beings.

Many of them are born already prone

to mental disorders,
and criminal stigmas.

Absurd theories,
like that one, delay abolition.

You should be ashamed
of what you just said.

Dear friend, I speak
with knowledge of the facts.

Craniology and craniometry
studies don't lie.

I know those theories, Dr. Nina.

But it seems to me
somewhat hasty

to attribute the existence of crime
to the negroes.

If so, London and Paris
would be peaceful cities.

Gentlemen, this leads nowhere.
One point at a time.

Why the Baroness's Stradivarius?

To demonstrate his power.

He leaves clues on purpose,
as a challenge.

Maybe he has an unconscious desire
to be caught.

Congratulations, Miss Gonzaga.
That's my thought entirely.

Why does he only kill women?

Because they are more fragile.

Not all of them.

Because he hates them.

Perhaps to him
the woman symbolizes

the perversion of the customs
that dominate our times.

Maybe he is afraid of them.

It's possible.
He fears something they awake on him.

Or that they fail to wake up.

They say that what I do is cruel.

Why?

It does not differ
from what I read in manuals

on how to carve up animals.

They do not say
that this ritual is cruel,

because the slain animals
serve as food.

This is the difference.

Eat... maybe I should eat.

Finally taste the meat.

The slaves were right.
When I was a child,

on the nights of black magic,
on the farm,

scared, they called me "Oluparun."

Sarah Bernhardt's departure
reminds me

that sooner or later
you will leave us too.

Come with me to London.

Let's not go any further.

Stay, dear Enone.

I cannot do it anymore.

My strength fails me.

My eyes are dazzled
with this glaring light.

My trembling knees
give way under my weight.

Unfortunately...

May our tears appease you.

These veils and vain ornaments
weigh me down.

What's going on?

Officious hand has tied the knot,

and gathered my hair over my forehead?

Everything grieves and annoys me!

Everything conspires to hurt me.

What's the matter?

I'm sorry, but you can't go back
to the theater today.

A young lady is waiting for me.

My Babalorixá Obá Shité III

ordered me to take you
to his place.

Who?

My great father,
the higher priest of Candomblé.

He has important information

about the murderer of the young women.

I have taken...

and I have made it run
in my burning veins...

a poison that Medea brought
from Athens.

Already in my heart
the venom works

infusing a strange and fatal chill.

Already as thro' thickening mists

I see the spouse to whom
my presence is an outrage.

And death...

from mine eyes veiling
the light of heaven

restores its purity that thy defiled.

You are son of Xangô.

Xangô is your orisha,
the saint who protects you.

You should always wear this.

Never forget:

Xangô is your father,
Xangô is your protector.

I do not understand.

The orishas summoned you here,
but they don't want to manifest.

I'm sorry, son.

There seems to be a current

blocking the energy.

Nothing serious.
Dr. Watson became an exu.

That's trouble.

I know that you have
the best intentions

but it is no time
for initiation ceremonies.

-A pomba-gira.
-A what?

She is a female exu,
a devil in female form.

She usually
only comes into women, or...

is that fellow adé?

-What's that?
-Effeminate.

No, he is English.

The pomba-gira got confused.

No!

I want oti, I want itaba,
pieces of shit!

You can light the inãs.

Unbelievable! Dr. Watson never spoke
any of these languages.

It is the pomba-gira asking
for a cigar

and cachaça.

So, you want to know
who the "siriquilí" is?

Exactly. I want to know
who the serial killer is.

But you know the "siriquilí".

You've been with him.

He was right next to you.

You have not found him
because you only think of a woman,

or smoking
itabojira in your pipe!

Do you hear me, "big ear"?

Don't you have ears,
Portuguese from England?

I'm way better than those black women.

The "siriquilí"
is an okorin de owo odara,

and he's still going to kufá
another obirin with the obéte.

She says that the serial killer
has a lot of money,

that he will kill another young woman
with his dagger.

-Why does he do it?
-Because he's kolori.

Hey, I want menga, I want ejé!

Or I won't leave anymore!

Oluparun!

Can I ask her the name
of the murderer?

It would be no good.
If she wants to leave the body,

it's because she won't say
anything else.

After long years
fantasizing infirmities,

my mother died
of the devastating smallpox fever.

I feel no pain nor pity.

A feeling of freedom invades my soul.

Despite the ears
and the strings,

I was not discovered.

Now nothing will stop me.

The time has come
to slaughter the prostitute

who with her wantonness

perverted the foolish emperor
of the tropics.

I think of angels.

Not in the guardians of the souls
and messengers of the good news,

but in those that the Lord sends
to Earth

who with herto fulfill
His most terrible designs.

I think of the messengers
of the plagues,

the executioners of God.

Mukumbe?

You?

You almost scared me to death.

How dare you come in like this,
without announcing yourself?

I knew your mother died.

I was saddened.

I know how much you loved her.

Don't you know that you shouldn't
visit young widows late at night?

Mercy!

No!

No, not in the face!

No!

There is no doubt, my dear Pimenta.

From the beginning,
the murderer had her in his sights.

The missing string was that
of Dalia M. C. de Albuquerque.

I hope the cycle of crimes
of that damned fiddle are over.

Mr. Holmes,
something terrible has happened.

Someone broke into your chambers.

I'm sorry.

I regret that your visit to Brazil

took place
in such tragic circumstances.

I would like to invite you
to relax in Petrópolis,

but my state duties force me
to stay at the Palace.

I've already provided reservations
on the ship that leaves tomorrow.

His majesty is very gracious.

We have come to thank you
for your generous hospitality,

and return to you The Swan Song,

recovered in fatal circumstances.

Excuse me, Mr. Holmes,
but The Swan Song would bring back

painful memories of my eternal friend.

Just looking at it rends my heart.

I understand, Your Majesty,
but what should I do?

It is still a Stradivarius.

You know that officially
this violin never existed.

I ask you to keep it.

I don't know if I can accept
such a valuable gift.

Of course you can.
It will be a secret of ours.

A memory of your time
in the tropics.

In Rome, when Caesar arrived
victorious from the battle,

and the crowd cheered him
enthusiastically,

rendering him the honors
of a divinity,

he used to have a slave by his side,

who whispered in his ear:

"Thou art bald,
old and hast a big belly."

He wished to be reminded
that he was nothing but human.

"Humility is the mother
of all virtues."

Keep The Swan Song as a trophy

of the rugged case
that you failed to solve.

The good thing is that they took
the strings, but returned it.

I gather that the crimes
of the mad fiddler came to an end.

Another brilliant deduction,
Mr. Holmes.

I don't know how he does it.

Elementary, my dear Pedro.

Why did you want to see me
in this empty theater?

I'm sorry, my love.

When I want to reflect
on something important, I come here.

It clarifies my ideas,

like a church for some people.

What were you thinking?

In your invitation to go
with you to London.

And so?

Try to understand, dear.

In London,
I'd be like a fish out of water.

How long would our love last
in a strange land?

Ana, in London,
you would be my wife.

You would be
Ana Candelária Scott Holmes.

English theaters are the best.

My career is just beginning.
It is not a big thing...

I want to make my own way, Holmes.

-You have your crimes.
-But, Ana...

I am leaving tomorrow.

Will you go to the docks?

No.

I wouldn't have the strength
to see you leave.

Then this is...

Goodbye.

I do not want you to leave

without feeling you
at least once in me.

When you come to London,
you'll have a room

at 221-B Baker Street.

When you return to Brazil,
I insist that you stay at my house.

Thanks. But, despite the fact
that I love this land,

I take back too painful memories
to be able to return.

Miguel!

-Good morning, gentlemen.
-Good day.

Mr. Holmes! Does this mean
that we will travel together?

What a happy coincidence.

Going on a trip?

No, moving.
I intend to live in London.

In other words, you leave
as the French, even to go to England.

You already know my old dream:

have a bookstore in London,
and lead a quiet life.

If you need anything,
I am at your service.

I would like to repay

the generous hospitality
that I've received in this land.

They will never know.
That obtuse detective,

he couldn't read the obvious clues
I left.

I acknowledge that I was playing
with marked cards.

In England, the notes
of the diatonic scale

are designated by letters:

G, D,

A, E.

The stupid Englishman
never for a moment thought

in the classification used by us,
Latinos.

"Mi" from Miguel,

"Sol" from Solera,

"La" from Lara.

Miguel Solera de Lara.

And "Re" from Refuge of Aphrodite,
my bookstore.

Aphrodite, the goddess worshiped
by prostitutes,

and protector of all harlots.

It was obvious with the ears,

"dog ears", "book flaps", bookseller.

Too bad that in Portuguese
from Portugal,

they call them "abas".

LONDON - 1888