All language subtitles for The.Pearl.Button.2015.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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THE PEARL BUTTON

"we are all streams from one water"

This block of quartz was found

in the Atacama desert, in Chile.

It is 3,000 years old

and contains a drop of water.

The Chilean desert

is the driest place on Earth.

From here,

astronomers discovered water

in almost the entire cosmos.

There's water in the planets.

There's water vapor in some nebula.

There's ice in other celestial bodies.

On earth, and elsewhere,

water is essential for life to exist.

Each night

a new planet is discovered,

that might have water.

As I watched the stars,

I was drawn to the importance of water.

It seems that water came
from outer space,

and life was brought to earth
by the comets,

that shaped the seas.

Water,

Chile's longest border,

forms an estuary known as
Western Patagonia.

Here,

the CordilIera of the Andes
sinks into the water

and re-emerges as thousands of islands.

It's a timeless place.

An archipelago of rain.

Some distant relatives of mine
lived here.

We had a zinc roof

and the raindrops made a noise

that reassured and protected me.

That sound has folIowed me all my life.

When water moves,

the cosmos intervenes.

Water receives the force of the planets,

transmits it to the earth,

and to all living creatures.

Water is an intermediary force

between the stars and us.

Before the white man arrived,

the first inhabitants of Patagonia,

lived in communion with the cosmos.

They carved stones
to ensure their future.

They traveled by water.

They lived submerged in water.

They ate what the water supplied.

They arrived ten thousand years ago.

They were water nomads.

They lived in clans

that moved about through the fjords.

They traveled from island to island.

Each family kept a fire burning

in the middle of their canoe.

There were five groups:

the Kawésqar,

the Selk'nam,

the Aoniken,

the Hausch,

and the Yamana.

They all traveled by sea.

The sea...

The sea is one of the pIaces that I...

As I grew up close to the sea,

I really love it.

I'd like to be able to travel by boat

as we used to.

But now there are too many restrictions,

we are barely allowed in the sea.

Why?

The Navy demands too much
for us to be able to use the sea.

I have a boat I made myself.

Such a small boat scares them.

They're not familiar
with boats that travel in this way.

That's why...

They claim they're protecting us,

but I don't think so.

I was told

that you crossed Cape Horn
with your dad.

The first time we crossed Cape Horn,

the weather was bad.

The wind was strong.

The sea is very dangerous,

but we got across fine.

How oId were you?

TweIve years old.

We went from Punta Arenas

to Cape Horn and back again.

The paddles were short, like this

because we paddled downwards.

That's how you paddled?

The paddle isn't fixed to the boat?

No, we hold it in our hands.

The current doesn't drag the boat away?

No, it doesn't.

In Cape Horn?

The current holds it back a bit,

but it still moves forward.

We still don't know

how they were able
to predict the weather.

It is estimated that
in the 1 9th century,

there were 8,000 people with 300 canoes,

travelling around this vast archipelago.

GabrieIa, do you feel Chilean?

Not at all.

What do you feel?

Kawésqar.

I didn't tell you...

Once, with my mother,

we were on an island, near...

near Natales.

I don't know exactly where.

I'd been sent there
as we didn't have water.

There was no well, no river, nothing.

We had gone to fetch water.

Opposite, there was a river.

I already knew how to paddle a little.

You need strength to paddle.

It's not easy.

It's not easy when it's windy.

The wind got up

and we couldn't reach our camp
on the island.

So we had to know how to paddle,

in case we needed to get out of trouble.

We couldn't say:

"l can't paddle",
that wasn't possible.

We had to be able to do it.

I learnt how to dive,

I had to learn.

I must have been 7 or 8 years old.

I got a musseI on my first dive.

That's when I was told

that I could catch shellfish to eat.

This was our food.

Back then, we ate only shellfish.

For Gabriela,

water is part of her family.

She accepts both the dangers

and the food that the sea offers her.

But I, as a Chilean,

I don't feel close to the sea.

For the ocean I feel admiration

and at the same time, fear.

This is because of a chiIdhood memory.

One summer,

one of my friends
was swept away by the sea.

He was jumping from rock to rock,

amongst the waves,

that rushed in, claw-like,
between the reefs.

His body was never recovered.

He was my first disappeared person.

The indigenous people of Patagonia

were Chile's first
and only maritime peoples.

We Chileans today

have lost this intimacy with the sea.

I asked Emma Malig,

my painter friend,

to show me something I've never seen.

Since l was a child,

I've never been able to see

a complete picture of my country.

In the schools,

there were no walls big enough,

for such a long country.

Chile had to be divided
into three parts:

the north, the center and the south,

as if it were three countries.

I think this country
got its mission wrong.

We have 4,200 kilometers of coastline.

ProbabIy the most coastlines
in the world.

With a large mountain range
that isoIates it from the continent.

The desert in the north isolates us

from Western civilization
and a frozen continent in the South.

We are an island,

in the geographical sense,

in terms of human geography, etc.

We don't have a maritime tradition,

and we've built up inland.

But our vaIley is too narrow
for agriculture,

so we built our future

on a very slim economic possibility,

which, over time,
has shrunk to almost nothing.

This country
has not made proper use of its sea,

the vast ocean that lies before it.

Few people have given the ocean
due honor,

have turned to the sea to admire it.

Not just to admire it,
but to acknowledge it

as part of our identity.

My country denies the Pacific ocean,

the biggest of aIl the oceans.

It mistrusts its vastness,

equivaIent to half the surface
of planet Earth.

However,
for the indigenous and the astronomers,

the ocean is an idea,

a concept that's inseparable from life.

How long was the journey of the comet

that brought us
the first drops of water?

Each drop

is a world apart.

Each drop is a breath.

As an anthropologist,

Claudio learnt from the natives,

the language of water.

Native Americans believe
all things are alive.

A stone is alive and has a spirit,

water is alive and has a spirit.

So water is a source of music.

All that moves makes a sound.

And the universe is movement,

so there's aIways sound.

It's the same water here.

If Earth's made up of different parts...

three parts water,

and one part earth,

what we call "earth" is actually water.

Our bodies are made of water,
plants are water,

so everything's water,

with bits of something more solid:

earth, stones or bones.

But everything is water.

What we breathe is also water.

So there's nothing strange
in the fact that astrophysicists say

that the universe is full of water.

I began to listen
to the sound of the river,

and suddenly l began to hear music.

A river sounds

like a thousand sounds at the same time.

We can separate them,
Iisten to one at a time,

and suddenly you hear...

and you hold on to it and then...

you have two separate sounds

and then another...

and when you have 1 0 sounds...

That's when the jolt happens.

When you hear the noise, that's a song,

a different sound.

An oceanographer taught me

that the act of thinking
resembles the ocean.

The law of thought
is the same as that of water,

that is always ready

to adapt to everything.

Might this explain

how these groups of men
managed to live here

for thousands of years,

in polar temperatures?

They lived in the most distant region,

the least inhabited.

They had no towns,

they didn't erect monuments,

but they knew how to draw.

One of these groups, the Selk'nam,

came up with the idea

of drawing on their own bodies.

After death,

they believed they would become stars.

In their mythology

they evoke the constellation of Orion,

and the Southern Cross.

We still don't know

the meanings of these drawings.

Perhaps a Chilean poet, Raúl Zurita,

might be able to help us.

These people were complex

and rich.

Their drawings show the whole cosmos,

the way they painted their bodies,

how they transformed them.

For these people,

the stars are the spirits
of their ancestors.

So what are they searching for,

those mighty telescopes in the north?

They are searching,

essentially,

for their ancestors,

to make the universe

more familiar.

In one way or another,

when the Indians saw
the souls and spirits

of their ancestors, their warriors,

they somehow felt
closer to the Universe.

They knew their dead were there.

So what do they want?

What are the telescopes looking for,

the space probes?

To bring the universe closer.

It seems all this progress

is the product of a deep nostalgia,

a desire to retrieve something,

something we aIready knew,
in a poetic sense,

something we inherently knew.

In 1 883,

the settlers arrived,

the gold hunters,

the military, the police,

the cattle farmers,

and the Catholic missionaries.

After centuries of living alongside

the water and the stars,

the indigenous people
saw their world collapse.

The Chilean government,

who supported the colonists,

declared that the Indians were corrupt,

cattle thieves and barbaric.

Many of them took refuge
on Dawson island,

where the main Mission was located.

They took away their beliefs,

their Ianguage, and their canoes.

They dressed them in old clothes

that were contaminated

with the germs of civilization.

Most of them

got sick and died
within less than 50 years.

The others became prey

to those known as "lndian hunters".

The farmers paid one pound

for a man's testicle,

one pound for a woman's breast,

ten shilIings for a child's ear.

This story, l believe,

should be told far more often.

The Chilean settIers,

backed by the foreign settlers,

carried on south

to establish large farming companies.

The Chileans benefited,

buying or obtaining Iands
from the government

to occupy
and turn them into cattle farms.

They began to exterminate
the southern people,

to wipe them out and kill them,

in the savage way we know about.

None of these massacres

ever resulted in
the perpetrators being accused.

The mother is water,

she's the ocean,
the canals, the rain, all that.

When we think
of the indigenous people

of America,

we tend to think, as historians,

that these people already identified

with their Iand, their territory,
with nature,

with water,
in the case of the Southern people.

They were the masters of their country.

The last groups sank into misery

and alcoholism.

In the eyes of the settlers

they became monsters.

In the 1 6th century,

the Spanish also saw monsters

in Patagonia.

They confirmed the presence
of giant savages.

They called them "Patagones",

because of their long feet.

I ask myself a question:

has the same thing happened
on other planets?

Have the strongest people

aIways dominated, everywhere?

One of the planets of the Gliese star,

discovered in Chile,

may have a vast ocean.

Might it be inhabited by living beings?

Might it have trees
to make large canoes?

Might this planet have been a refuge

where the Indians could live in peace?

Having these thoughts is unreal.

But I dare to have them,

because I'd love for these water people

not to have disappeared.

There now remain 20 direct descendants.

Through them

their Ianguage has survived
for hundreds,

perhaps thousands of years.

A seal.

A whale.

Canoe.

Paddle.

Dad.

Mum.

Child.

Sun.

Moon.

Star.

GabrieIa, I'd Iike you to say
in Kawésqar:

Beach.

Mussel.

Canoe.

Button.

Button?

Shirt.

Rain.

Window.

Sea.

Water.

Storm.

I got it wrong.

Good man.

Bad man.

God.

No, not God,

we don't have that.

Police.

Police...

We don't need that either.

When she was a child,

Gabriela crossed
aImost the whole of Patagonia,

paddling,
for 1 ,000 kilometers,

Is it true that when you were a child

you made a long trip
with your family,

from an island, to Port Eden?

To the GuIf of Penas.

I know the way.

I know how to get to the Gulf of Penas,

going through Agropolina,

very near the island of San Javier.

Tell me about it in Kawésqar.

I'm going to start

to telI you from when we were near...

Cape Tomar.

I paddled aIl around the south.

It was known as the "K'eaelkces' land,

the Kawésqar people of the south.

I don't know what the area was called

in Kawésqar.

When a canoe is damaged by barnacles

another is built with an axe.

If the new canoe gets a leak

another must be made, immediately.

When you traveI by canoe

you get to know the islands inside out,

where to camp

and where to sleep.

Sometimes we stay there
for several days,

blocked by the wind

and if it rains
we sometimes spend 3 months

waiting for the sea to calm.

I became a teenager, then an adult

as I paddled

and here I am.

The first time l saw Gabriela
was in a photograph.

It was also the first time

that I saw nearly
aIl of Patagonia's survivors.

Paz Errázuriz,

a talented photographer from Santiago,

was drawn to the faces of these people

long before the history text books.

For many years, for centuries,

the Fuegians were invisible people.

At the same time

as Gabriela made
her 1 ,000 kilometer journey,

and dived in the sea,

I was at school

and lived by the sea.

We school kids knew nothing

of the people from the South.

Gabriela and I

were several centuries apart.

During those years,

I preferred reading Jules Verne novels.

l didn't even know
about the only native

who'd left his mark on history.

His name is Jemmy Button.

I found out about his life
much Iater on.

The adventure of Jemmy Button

seemed almost a legend to me,

when I read it for the first time.

But this is a true story.

At the dawn of the 1 9th century,

an English boat

arrived in Patagonia,

under the command of Captain FitzRoy.

His mission was to draw the lands

and coastlines of this country.

He drew the finest maps,

that were used for the next century.

He was the first person
to draw the natives

with a human face.

The captain,

a humanist,

had a surprising idea:

to take four natives

to England to civilize them.

One of the natives went aboard,
in exchange for a pearl button,

which is why the English

named him Jemmy Button.

Jemmy Button was dressed
in a sailor's costume,

later on, as an Englishman.

For more than one year

Jemmy Button lived on an unknown planet.

He traveled from the Stone age

to the Industrial revolution.

He traveled thousands of years
into the future.

And then,

thousands of years back into the past.

After Jemmy Button
had become a gentleman,

the captain

took him back to Patagonia.

When he set foot on his homeland

Jemmy Button took off
his EngIish cIothes.

He continued to speak half in English,

half in his own language.

He let his hair grow long,

but he was never
the same man again.

This was the beginning

of the end of the Southern peoples.

FitzRoy's maps

opened the doors
to thousands of settlers.

For 1 50 years,

a group of white men

governed harshly, in a silent country.

Salvador AlIende's revolution
broke the siIence.

A major social movement arose

that spanned half the country.

We heard voices
we'd never heard before.

Allende began to give back
to the natives

the lands that had been seized
from them.

The freedom didn't last for long.

It was destroyed by a coup d'Etat,

financed by the United States.

At the same time,

the disintegration of a supernova star

was seen from a Chilean observatory.

It was the first time this had occurred

so close to Earth.

Dictatorship

struck Chile.

It lasted 1 6 years.

There were 800 secret prisons,

with 3,500 civil servants,

many of whom carried out torture.

In some regions,

the prisoners were butchered alive.

Women were raped

in front of their husbands or children.

Men and women

were hung from the ceiling.

Their skin was burnt
with acid and cigarettes.

They were electrocuted
all over their bodies.

They were drugged.

Their throats were slit.

They were imprisoned in boxes of 1 m3.

Usually, the information wanted,
was already known.

They tortured to kill.

For years,

the military and civilians involved

didn't say where the prisoners were.

Dawson island,

where hundreds of indigenous people died

in the Catholic missions,

was turned into a concentration camp

for Salvador Allende's ministers

who were deported from Santiago.

Dawson was also used
as a prison

and torture house

for over 700 of Allende's supporters

who lived in Punta Arenas,

capital of Patagonia.

I want you to show me with your hands

where Dawson is.

I would like each of you to tell me
how Iong you were held in prison?

- One and a half years
- Four years.

Four years and three months.

- Six months.
- Four years.

444 days.

Two years and two months.

Two and a half years.

Two years and ten months.

Five years and one day.

- Six months.
- One year and seven months.

They were victims of a violence

that the natives knew only too well.

In Chile,

impunity accumulated over centuries.

Dawson is just one chapter.

During those violent years,

the HumboIdt current washed up a body,

in the same region

in which my childhood friend
had disappeared.

It wasn't the body of a child,

it was the body of a woman.

Nobody knew who she was.

People began to suspect

that the ocean was a cemetery.

Thirty years later,

several officers of the dictatorship

confessed that perhaps

a few people
had been thrown into the sea.

One of them was Marta Ugarte,

the woman from the beach.

The family's lawyer knows the facts.

Her wounds are mainly internal.

She shows other signs of torture.

She has some cuts.

As for her face...

what strikes me most, even today,

is that she's looking at us.

Her eyes are open,

and she's looking at us.

Curiously,

her eyes are intact,

which is unusual,

when a body has remained
for a long time,

underwater.

But that's how it was with her,

I find it very strange.

Her face isn't bloated.

And she's Iooking at us.

It's as though
she's awake and looking at us.

I wonder what was the last thing

that she saw?

Did she see other prisoners

nearby?

I have decided to reconstruct

the last moments

of a victim,
in order to believe it.

A writer and journalist

will help me.

There are various testimonies
that they were given an injection.

Some say that it was cyanide,

but most say that it was pentothal.

It was a way of guaranteeing
a prisoner's death.

The rail was placed
on the thoracic cage.

Higher up, on the chest.

How much do you think this rail weighs?

This rail

must weigh around 30 kilos, at least.

The raiIs came
from the Puente Alto barracks.

The rail carrier was murdered
by the DINA,

for talking too much.

To finish off the packaging,

they put plastic bags,

one over the head,
and another from the feet,

meeting in the middle.

The other plastic bag here.

And potato sacks.

Exactly the same process:

from the feet up,
and from the head down,

to meet in the middle.

Then they awaited the helicopters
or airplanes,

from which they'd be thrown
into the sea.

What happened
with Marta Ugarte's body?

What happened was
that this prisoner,

when she was in the airplane,

began to move.

What they did was
to take this off her,

untie the bags,
take them off her body.

They opened the packaging,

and realized she was alive.

So they took the wire that was here,

and strangled her.

The package was then badly sealed.

This would explain how her body

came to be washed ashore.

According to judicial reports,

the Chilean Armed Forces tossed

between 1 ,200
and 1 ,400 people into the ocean,

dead or alive.

They were assisted by many civilians.

They hoped

that the sea would keep
the secret of the crime.

This happened in November '79.

Aboard the helicopter,

- the mechanic enters the side door -

I realized that there were two bodies:

one was a woman,

who was obviously young,

and one a man, of more than 90 kilos.

I could see his build,
but his face was hidden in a bag.

A rail was attached to the body.

Unfortunately,

that was the most difficuIt day
of my career,

I'd already said

that God would punish us.

What we were doing was a crime.

On my second flight,

that was in June 1 980,

There must have been...

judging from the stains,

I think there were 8 or 9 bodies.

I had the impression
they'd just been killed,

given the blood stains that were left.

Was there more than one civilian?

There were four civilians.

They pushed the bodies out.

They used the hatchway

that's used to load cargo,

and the side doors.

It was easier to throw them from there,

than to drag them to the side doors.

Those by the side doors
were thrown out there,

the others out the middle.

There's no limit to the cruelty.

They didn't even have the grace,

the compassion, to return the dead.

It's written
in the most ancient history:

the enemy's dead body is returned,

so its relatives may continue to live.

For them to grieve,
the bodies must be returned.

So the dead may finish dying

and the living carry on living.

It's so...

It's so brutal, what happened...

in Chile,

in these countries.

Impunity is a double murder,

it's like killing the dead twice.

Finding the guiIty
is not the end of the road.

It's just the beginning.

Ever since he was a child,

Raúl Veas has dived near to the rails.

Almost everyone in the town
knew about them,

but people were scared.

In 2004,

judge Guzmán ordered inspector Vignolo

to find them.

It was Raúl who dived
to the bottom of the sea.

Forty years later,

the rails have become covered
with marks.

Water and its creatures

have engraved these messages.

Here are the secrets

that the bodies left on the rails,

before melting into the water

and taking on the shape of the ocean.

Observing each of the rails,

other remains were discovered.

A button was found, stuck to a rail.

This button is the only trace

of someone who had been there.

From Jemmy Button,
in exchange for a pearl button,

they took away his land,

his freedom, his life.

When he was returned to his island,

Jemmy Button never retrieved
his identity.

He became exiled
in his own land.

Both buttons tell the same story,

a story of extermination.

There are probably many other buttons

in the ocean.

In this detail lies everything,

condensed, dense,

like a black hole.

That was my impression,

because one can imagine the rail,

and trace its story:

the workers who made it,

who cut it, who laid it.

One can trace the story of the button:

the button leads us to a person,

a shirt, a situation.

Perhaps to Villa Grimaldi itself,

and all that happened there.

It's a detail that grows and expands,

waves that go in different directions.

It's the history of Chile,

and all events of the dictatorship.

When you watch the sea, the water,

you're watching all of humanity.

These lands, both marvelous
and in some ways blood-soaked.

They hold the worst

of ourselves.

At the end of the day, we all...

In a world of victims and killers...

aIthough both exist,

we are each responsible for everything,

for the victims and the killers.

Each human being,
no one in particular.

So when such terrible things happen,

as they often have done,
throughout history,

without participating,
we're aIso responsible,

as in a family in which
a child commits a crime

and the whole family is affected.

So...

this part of History,

associated with water, ice, volcanoes,

is also associated with death,
massacres,

abuse, genocide.

It is one part...

If water has memory,
it wiIl also remember this.

All things converse with all things,

water, rivers, plants,

reefs, deserts, stones, stars...

It's one long conversation,

a mutual regard.

The Indians of Patagonia,

believed that souls didn't die,

and that they could live again,
as stars.

They say that water has memory.

I believe it also has a voice.

If we were to get very close to it,

we'd be able to hear the voices

of each of the Indians
and the disappeared.

Not long ago, very far away,

a Quasar was discovered,
full of water vapor.

It holds 1 20 million times more water

than all of our seas.

How many wandering souls
might find refuge

in this vast ocean
that's drifting in the void?