Original subtitles

I want you to get something straight.

I'm not a mobster.

I just have a complex business that sometimes requires making decisions

without assessing them.

Does it involve drugs?

I hate drugs.

-Prostitution? Gambling? -Neither.

Pyramid schemes? Political corruption?

Guns.

Rifles, grenades, missiles, explosives, ammunition.

-You're an arms dealer? -No.

No, I'm no dealer.

Neither a smuggler nor a criminal.

My company is completely legal.

I have all the certificates and permits.

I'm only a middleman.

A middleman between whom?

Between governments,

companies, but always legal.

What about those dead guys?

Are they legal, too?

Four months ago,

a client hired me to buy napalm.

Know what that is?

An explosive.

Yes, an explosive.

Wonderful, like gelatin.

But it's very hard to find,

so I talked to a broker in Morocco

because I know they used it in the Sahara.

But he turned out to be a scammer.

The guy in the basement.

The guy in the basement.

He wanted to sell me fake napalm.

Adulterated.

And that's very serious.

The most valuable asset of a middleman

is his reputation.

If I sell a bad product, nobody will ever call me again.

And that would ruin us.

A fucking disaster.

So you locked him up downstairs to scare him?

What happened to him?

And what happens now?

I don't know.

What do you want to do?

Me?

You killed a man.

-No. -Yes.

No.

-Yes, yes, yes. -No.

-Yes, yes, yes. -No, no, no.

-Yes. Yes. -No.

He fell down.

Don't bullshit me, Oskar.

-Look, I was just trying to... -Sure.

We're all trying here.

My wife, my kids, me,

Pontius Pilate, the Virgin Mary...

There's no harm in trying.

I'm telling you all this

because my daughter trusts you.

She trusts you like hell.

I don't want any trouble.

Nobody ever wants any trouble.

But reality is what it is,

and when trouble comes, you need to know how to solve it.

Or at least contain it.

And if not, to erase it.

That's why I don't want any secrets or misunderstandings.

If we open the doors of my family to you, it's to make you truly a part of it.

To support each other.

With our virtues and our flaws.

But the final decision is yours.

What decision?

Do you still want to open that gym in Marbella?

If I say no, will you lock me up in a basement?

If you say no, my daughter will take you home,

say goodbye and you'll never see her again.

Guaranteed.

And if I say yes?

Then I'll say,

"Welcome to the Farad family."

That was my last chance to change my future.

I could have said no,

gone back to my everyday routine,

and forgotten all about the Farads like they never existed.

But I didn't.

I chose the unknown,

the unlikely, the fascination,

the life that least resembled my own.

I chose a family.

I chose Marbella.

The Costa del Sol was a different world.

It was paradise.

Sunshine, beaches, beauty...

To be somebody, that was the place to be in.

THE FARADS

For a kid like me,

it was like landing on another planet.

Leo made it clear from day one.

He named me manager of our future gym in Puerto Banús.

I didn't even have to pay the taxes.

Take down the sign!

FOR RENT

If their mansion in Madrid had impressed me,

it was because I hadn't seen the one they had in Marbella.

We have lots of emerging artwork at home, you know?

Like these three.

The Horizons.

It's a very classic reinterpretation of Monet's work.

What does it convey to you?

Like...

-Like some kind of unease... -Yes.

Unease, exactly.

The indoor swimming pool.

A whim.

Marbella has a wonderful microclimate.

This will be your bedroom, with Sara.

With Sara?

You're staying with us. She didn't tell you?

-Only if you want to. -Yes.

But I don't know, I thought I'd be in a guest room or something.

But you're no guest.

You don't need to marry to sleep together.

They even gave me a welcome gift.

From that moment on, Sara and I became officially a couple.

The architect is coming on Friday to remodel the gym.

I've already told him what we want and the type of floor.

Isn't this going a bit too fast?

What do you mean?

Well, last week l was living in Madrid in a little apartment in Aluche,

and suddenly, this...

I need to process it.

What if I don't want you to?

I don't want you to regret it.

You might be the one regretting it.

Why?

Because you must be used to more sophisticated, educated guys.

And that scares you?

-Rubber flooring. -What?

For the gym. Make sure to insist, we don't want vinyl carpeting.

We can tell him together, right?

I'm going to Africa on Friday.

-Africa? -Angola.

The napalm client is there. I have to go there to fix it.

Fix it how?

I'll offer him Claymore mines instead of napalm,

with a discount.

Is it the same thing?

If we don't have Moët Chandon,

we make do with cava.

So napalm is the Moët?

You need to have a solution for everything.

Because what matters, Oskar,

is being imaginative.

If you are, we'll do very well.

I'd put the Jacuzzi here.

You need two Jacuzzis.

One for each dressing room.

Yes, two are better, yes.

They'll bring them from Lyon, like mine.

Okay.

And I was thinking about putting a steam bath in here.

Very nice.

And later on, I wouldn't rule out

adding a sauna.

Some people only lose weight in a sauna.

Right.

Will you be able to handle all this?

Of course.

This gym will be awesome.

You're not here for the gym only, Oskar.

My daughter is what matters to me.

If she says there's money here, I trust her.

But my priority is to make Sara happy, comfortable.

And to do that, you have to win her over.

-I'm here. -Great.

Start with the burek. It's delicious and hot.

A meat-filled pastry, it's my mother's specialty.

-Are you Algerian, too? -Not at all, I'm Catalonian,

but born and raised in Paris.

Everything looks amazing.

Try it, you'll see.

Life here in Marbella is fucking awesome.

It'll suck when you have to go back to Madrid.

-Madrid? -Hey...

If the gym doesn't work out, I mean.

-Of course it will! -It will, don't be a spoilsport.

Fran's clinic didn't work out,

and all the Arabs have horses around here.

Who's Fran?

Sara's ex-boyfriend, a veterinarian.

She also had a boyfriend who wanted to open a disco.

Another one said he'd get rich off real estate.

No, no, no! That one was awful.

-Awful. -Mom.

-Unbearable. -Don't listen.

-My sister likes entrepreneurs. -You're an asshole.

Going back to Madrid wouldn't be that bad, I'm very happy there.

Is that why you failed business school?

She means her music.

PolyGram wants to sign her.

The songs for my album are almost ready.

You're recording an album?

Of course.

Yes, Tanya will be the new Sheena Easton.

Screw you.

That son of a bitch.

Who is he?

Nabil Mawad.

He sent the men who tried to scam us with the napalm.

-That's right. -But we have no proof.

Why is he waving at you?

Because he's a cynic.

My dad is Mawad's biggest competitor.

We deal with countries in Eastern Europe and leftist groups.

Mawad deals with the CIA

and the anti-communist guerrillas in Africa and Asia.

So you're rivals.

Yeah. And by the size of his house,

I guess he takes higher commissions.

Capitalism always pays better.

We have an unwritten rule,

never do business with the other side.

Mawad doesn't sell Kalashnikovs or RPG7s,

and we don't sell Stingers nor M-16s.

But napalm is an American invention.

-You poached on his territory. -Well, there's always exceptions.

Shit. The ham.

I have to take 300 grams of Iberian ham.

Henry, my dad's friend who I'm going with,

always asks me to bring ham.

I want to go to Angola with you.

You? What for?

So you won't be alone.

A trip like this must be a drag.

How would you know?

You're going to see a client to tell him you didn't get his napalm.

Sounds tricky.

And you'll give me moral support?

Maybe I will.

You focus on the gym.

Don't aim too high, or you might end up with nothing.

I'm not aiming too high.

Don't worry about me.

If there's any trouble, ham.

You've really climbed the ladder!

Are you an Andalusian rich kid now?

Here.

The 150,000 pesetas you gave me for the gym.

I don't want your money.

It's yours.

You drove 500 kilometers for this?

Actually, no.

You're fucking nuts.

You've been making explosives in the mines for 20 years.

-Didn't you go there to open a gym? -Precisely.

What does napalm have to do with aerobics?

Helping the family.

Did they ask you?

They have no idea.

But I know they have a problem,

and I know you're an expert making TNT, dynamite, Goma-2...

I'm sure you can make napalm.

I can't believe you.

It would be good for both of us, Manuel.

What for? To go to jail?

Nobody's going to jail.

These people are legit, they have permits.

Is that what they said?

You should meet them.

-They're different. -Really?

Yes, it's not what you think.

They're people with culture.

They understand things like abstract art.

-Who the fuck cares? -It's a sign of sensitivity.

And sensitive people think.

So we mix a dash of napalm with Picasso's Guernica,

and we become Gandhi.

Look, Manuel.

If you want to spend the rest of your life in this hole,

inventing silent pyrotechnics,

I think that's great.

But when your savings run out

and you have to go back home to see your wife's face...

-Don't bust my balls! -...don't complain,

or call me, because this train will have passed.

Good luck, Manuel.

Napalm has a very simple base.

Naphthalene and phosphoric acid.

The problem is the scale.

The scale?

I can make a can of it and blow it up over there.

But if your family wants to burn down a jungle...

One can is enough.

All right.

From now on, you'll pay me in dollars.

Perfect.

MALAGA AIRPORT

Did you remember to buy ham?

I brought jerky just in case.

What are you doing?

Surprising you.

Isn't that what you wanted?

Oskar, you can't leave the gym.

We open in one month.

Sure I can. Remodeling is over.

Now I just have to find customers. Three days away is no big deal.

You're out of your mind.

Did you really think I'd miss this?

Besides, I've bought a cutting-edge German camera.

And check this out,

a Portuguese dictionary.

My clients are not Angolans, but the Cuban Army.

Then why are we going to Luanda?

All I'd heard about Cuba were Machín songs,

mulatto dancers,

and photos of Fidel Castro smoking cigars.

But Sara told me that, after the 1959 revolution,

Castro had become an idol

for the guerrillas of the Third World countries.

Not only did he send them support and cigars,

but also weapons and soldiers.

Over the course of 25 years,

Cuba had advisors and troops in Algeria,

Vietnam, South Yemen,

Congo, Bolivia, Venezuela, Nicaragua,

Mozambique, Guinea-Conakry...

They even fought against Israel in the Golan Heights

alongside the Syrians.

He supported the Ethiopians with 10,000 men

and a tank brigade in the Ogaden War.

And in Angola, he deployed an army of 30,000 soldiers

to stop the South African invasion.

Since then, they had stayed there,

fighting against Savimbi's anti-communist guerrilla.

How can such a tiny island send troops everywhere like an empire?

Do the Russians pay for it?

-Here you are. -Thank you.

The Russians provide the weapons, Angola pays for the rest.

And they pay really well.

It's a rich country, with diamonds, oil...

The Cubans make the tactical decisions.

And what does Cuba get out of this?

Political influence, support at the UN...

Where does your family come in?

The Cubans don't like to depend on one supplier only.

Especially for one-time purchases.

Like napalm.

I feel like I'm in a movie.

Wait till you get there.

Henry!

My niece!

You're all grown up!

I couldn't wait to see you.

-Thanks for coming. -How could I not?

You thought I'd let you show up alone?

Of course not. Did you bring me ham?

Acorn-fed Iberian ham.

Delicious!

-Oskar brought you jerky. -Damn.

-Nice to meet you. Thank you. -Likewise.

-Oskar, right? -Yes.

My boyfriend.

Shit! The bottle boy!

Thank you so much. Let's get going.

There's my car.

Oskar, right? Take the suitcase and get in the back.

How cool!

Here, get in.

Thanks.

All good.

We will compensate them with Claymore mines.

They're more discreet and work better in the jungle.

It's okay, Oskar knows all about it.

He's like family now.

Claymores won't be enough for Patricio, you know how he is.

You'll help me convince him.

I'm with you.

I think napalm is shit.

They don't even know in Havana.

-If Fidel finds out, he'll be pissed off. -Why?

Because it's an imperialist weapon, it has bad rep from the Vietnam War.

We Cubans prefer white phosphorus. Kills just as much, but is less noisy.

And what's the problem?

Napalm is more effective in the jungle.

We better tell Patricio that the plan went south.

-No. -If you try to compensate with mines,

he'll get angrier. Trust me, I know Patricio.

We're already here, I have to at least try.

Does Patricio like ham?

When someone tells me they want to build socialism,

I always say,

"Have you tried real champagne

"instead of Russian shampanskoye?

"Have you compared black-label Iberian ham to Bulgarian mortadella?" Come on!

You sound a bit subversive, Henry.

Let's not fool ourselves.

If you want to win the Cold War, start by feeding your people well.

That's why they don't let you go to Spain. You could defect.

No, sweetie, it's just that I've spent many years

living my life based on a dream,

and you get tired of it.

I'm sure your dad understands me perfectly.

What an amazing city, right?

Yes.

In that matter, the Portuguese are like the Spanish.

They build like they're staying forever.

If you cross over to the French Congo,

the bastards didn't even use bricks.

I've been coming since 1975.

I've seen this destroy itself year after year. It sucks.

Why don't you make it?

The napalm.

How many beers has your boyfriend had?

No, damn it. I'm serious. It's a formula.

Where's this coming from?

Curiosity.

Patricio tried months ago and it didn't work out.

What mix did they use?

-Comrade Henry. -Yes?

-Phone! -I'll be right back.

So you're a chemist now?

No.

But my uncle Manuel spent 20 years

working with explosives in the mines at Riotinto, in Huelva.

Right.

But this is different, Oskar.

But there's no harm in trying, right?

There is.

We could screw up our relationship with the Cubans.

It could work.

-No. -No?

If Patricio doesn't want your mines, you're screwed anyway.

That's none of your business.

You're here to stroll and take pictures, right?

Then stroll

and take pictures.

Patricio's coming back from Lubango.

We'll meet tomorrow first thing, so you have the afternoon free.

Why don't you show him the candonga?

What's the candonga?

This is insane.

Do you know what my dad says?

That in the candonga you can find anything from a Rolex to an anti-aircraft missile.

Pure Africa.

Good morning.

There are lots of children.

But there is no old people.

Some say they're Marxists, others say they're pro-American...

Sorry.

But deep down, it's a tribal war

fed by ideologies they don't know or understand.

That's absurd.

That's the Cold War.

No, no, no.

No, thank you.

You've never brought your boyfriends here?

I don't think they were interested.

You know what your dad said to me the other day?

That my real mission in Marbella wasn't opening a gym,

but helping you.

-Banded necklace? -No, thank you.

Dads always say things like that.

Then you have to let me do it.

I will.

But you need to learn first.

I learn faster than you think.

Maybe you don't need to go that fast.

Candonga is a good name for the gym.

It sounds rhythmical.

Wild.

"Candonga Club."

I like it.

Hi there.

-How are you, Henry? -Great.

-Hi, Sara. -Hello, Patricio. My dad sends regards.

Okay, let's go inside.

We have a room reserved to...

He's really sorry he couldn't make it.

"Really sorry," huh?

Plenty of gifts, but he knows that wasn't the deal.

This is the third time.

I don't have time to be messing the fuck around.

Let him know that.

Claymore mines? They've been using those since forever!

-Your father said he'd get it. -He tried.

-Tried my ass! -We're on your side.

Then why did you wait until coming here to tell me?

My dad has never failed you.

-Why didn't he come to tell me? -She handles this, Patricio.

No need to.

If it doesn't go well, she can stay home.

It's complicated. It's not black and white.

Complicated?

And being here isn't?

You know how many men we lost in Huambo this week?

How many were maimed?

We can go up to 200 Claymores.

No, God damn it!

For fuck's sake!

UNITA knows the Claymore mines better than we do!

Excuse me.

Sara,

I just talked to the chemist.

He said we can have it ready in five to six weeks.

Who the hell are you?

I work with her.

He is her partner.

-Your husband? -Yes.

Oskar.

We didn't want to say anything

because we needed to confirm we can produce it.

Produce what?

The napalm.

We'll have to adjust the scale,

but we can bring a sample and test it here,

with you.

Five to six weeks sounds reasonable to me.

Right, Patricio?

Do you have any idea what you just did?

No, he doesn't.

He has no fucking idea.

Sara.

Sara! Wait, Sara!

What the fuck do you think this is?

An aerobics class?

A demonstration of testosterone?

A way to show you have big balls?

-Sara, it will work. -No, you don't know that.

You don't know shit.

Fucking unbelievable.

Excuse me.

Would there happen to be a free seat?

Yes, of course. Back there.

Perfect.

Hi.

Thank you.

Mario.

Leave Oskar's bag in the car, he's going to Madrid.

What?

You told the Cubans five to six weeks, right?

Then get going.

And make it three.

Sara, it's 2:00 a.m.

Here. Drink up while it's hot.

It'll do you good after such a long trip.

Thank you.

Oskar...

If I weren't convinced my uncle can do it,

-I wouldn't have said anything. -I know.

You need to rest. You can go see him tomorrow, okay?

You know that I'm already disappointed.

I'm sorry I did it this way.

-I thought doing nothing would be worse. -All right. Look.

There's a guest room on the right.

Sleep here tonight.

We'll see it more clearly tomorrow.

I just want to say one thing.

Trust me.

You have three weeks.

Good night.

Good night.

Thank you.

A note Henry gave me with the compounds the chemists used in Luanda.

And this?

To record the napalm tests.

Come with me.

Better on video, so I don't waste time.

Wish me luck, at least.

These people used detergent!

Detergent?

Yeah, regular laundry detergent instead of phosphoric acid.

That invalidates the final gelatin.

-It's that simple? -No.

Not that simple.

The acid generates a lot of instability.

So I'm trying with aluminum soap.

Are you sure it will work?

We only have three weeks.

-Wait. -Look.

Damn!

This is one-tenth of what it will be when I manage to stabilize it.

In three weeks, I'll nail it.

There are no old people, or fat people.

Everything is chaotic.

As if life only lasted a day.

Damn.

Africa is amazing. Amazing.

Meanwhile, Sara and her family get rich.

Well, that's the world we live in, Manuel.

Do you trust these people?

Well, they're know what they want.

That's not what I asked.

I think Sara needs me.

-What for? -I don't know.

But she looked for me.

The Marbella thing was her idea.

Shit, I'm sleeping with her at her parents' house.

I don't know. It's like...

Like what?

Like they chose me.

It's been almost two weeks.

So?

I talked to Henry.

There's a way to stop everything and save face with the Cubans.

How?

Leak to Havana what they're doing in Angola.

What if Oskar pulls it off?

He won't.

You shouldn't have taken him.

No, I didn't take him to Luanda.

He showed up at the airport

because you told him to help me. What did you want me to do?

So he gets on your flight, you let him into the meeting...

Are you trying to accuse me of something?

Dad, listen to me.

You're the one who got him all worked up about helping me.

It's what you wanted. That's why he came to Marbella.

He came to open a gym.

And see if he had it. You had a hunch.

Give him time.

You're going to piss off your brother and sister.

Fuck them.

You, Mom and I are the only ones who bust our asses for the family.

Then why add someone else?

Dad...

Don't leak anything yet.

Please.

Go ahead.

-We still have a week left, right? -Yeah.

ONE WEEK LATER

NAMIB DESERT ANGOLA

Colonel.

I hear you're a chemist now, Farad.

No, God forbid.

Hello, Patricio.

My son-in-law is the guilty one.

Well then?

Do we have it or not?

These formulas are tricky.

Sometimes, you have to adjust the mixture.

Give me a break, Farad, you sly old fox.

What Leo means is the scale.

They haven't tested high doses. If there's a problem, it can be adjusted.

Right, Oskar?

The formula works.

If anything goes wrong, I take full responsibility.

Here, Leo, look.

We placed the charge proportionally underneath those cars.

The same amount under each one.

So, on our side, everything's ready.

You're going to shoot with that?

Since it's going to burn, let it burn big-time.

There are moments in life

in which you put all your eggs in one basket.

And failure is only one instant away.

One second you don't want to see.

Ready, Colonel!

Go!

But if it goes well,

it's a revelation.

Pure epiphany.

That day, a new Oskar was born.

One not even I knew.

Fascinated by destruction and fire.

And yes, it was glorious.

It paved my road to success.

And, now I know, also to perdition.

-Did I pass the test? -What test?

I don't know, that's what I've felt since I met you.

There is no test, Oskar.

You have a lot to learn.

I only want to know where I stand.

Where you belong.

I thought I belonged in a gym in Marbella.

-That depends. -On what?

On how badly you want to take on the world.