All language subtitles for Hemingway.and.Gellhorn.2012.1080p.BluRay.REMUX.AVC.DTS.HD.MA.5.1-English

Old Martha: Love?

(Scoffs)

Must we?

I was probably the worst
bed partner on five continents.

All my life, idiotically,

I thought that sex seemed to matter
so desperately to the man who wanted it

that to withhold it was
like withholding bread,

an act of selfishness.

And all that bread
isn't worth a hoot in hell.

Hmm.

What's always really
absorbed me about life

is what's happening
on the outside.

Action.

Now, that,

that was something to be shared.

I've always felt most at home

in the most difficult places.

But love?

I'm a war correspondent.

Of course, there are wars...

...and there are wars.

(Grunts)

Here we go.

Skinner: Pull! Look at that!

(Hemingway grunting)

That's one son of a bitch.

Yeah, but you're a son
of a bitch, too. Come on!

But I know one thing he doesn't.

Pull, for god's sakes.

Hold on!

Oh, really?

Skinner: Come
on, papa! Bring him!

(Yells)

(Men grunting)

Everything dies.

Old Martha: It was by pure
chance that I ever met him.

I was in key west with my mother and brother
on a family trip after my father died.

There was this bar
called Sloppy Joe's.

I remember thinking,
the first time I saw him...

Okay!

"Who is that large, dirty man in
those disgustingly soiled clothes?"

Alfred: Oh, my god!

That's Ernest Hemingway.

Papa, anoint the beast!

(All cheering)

Mrs. Gellhorn: (Chuckling) No.

That man appears to be indigen.

(Chuckles)

Sidney: Not bad, huh?
Good day! Good day!

Hemingway:
Skinner, another drink.

Don't look now, papa,
but something's coming.

(Both chuckle)

(Man wolf whistles)

Skinner: Hey, how's it going?

I've never kissed a fish.

Sloppy Joe's
tradition. Friend or foe?

Or faux friend, you never know.

You find out eventually.

What's your name, elegance?

Martha gellhorn.

Well, gellhorn, big game's no
fun if it just wanders up to you.

Oh, but I'm not one of
your big game animals.

Oh, I can see what you aren't,

I'm just trying to figure
out what the hell you are.

If we have a drink, am I gonna
have to fight your husband?

Uh... my brother.

That's my mother.

In that case, I
hope you're thirsty.

You want to invite him over?

Man: You want another?

(Singing in Italian)

Everybody tells you you're
blonde? I find that hard to believe.

You know the song?

I know Italian.

And I know the song.

(Singing in Italian)

(Both singing)

(All cheering)

Hemingway: What do
you think of that, boys?

So what do you
do, sophisticated?

What do I do?

Oh, lately, I've been
seeing the world.

- How is the world?
- (Chuckleys)

It's surprising, occasionally.

- Is that mine?
- Sure.

Mmm!

A lot of rum in this rum.

Well, in this joint, they don't drink
to get drunk, they drink to stay drunk.

The clientele here scare you?

Scare me? No.

No, I just got back from Berlin.

Now, the Nazis?

(Exhales) They're scary.

Like smelly little boys
running around with lugers.

Pretty rough company
for a young fréulein.

Blondes get a free
pass in the fatherland.

They do fine here,
too, from what I've read.

So drink up.

America's plush
as the pope's bed.

Don't be naive.

Plenty of people
still go hungry.

You sound like
Eleanor Roosevelt.

Trust me, I am nothing
like Eleanor Roosevelt.

- I've known the woman my whole life.
- Of course, you have.

Let's see the review.

- What?
- Come on, gellhorn.

Every writer keeps one review.

Well, you can blame Mrs. Roosevelt.
She encouraged me to write it.

It's called the
trouble I've seen.

- The trouble you've seen?
- Mmm-hmm.

What was that? Daddy
loop to the country club?

Oh, I've seen trouble.
I didn't say it was mine.

I ran around the country, I lived in hobo
camps, I settled appalachian families...

"The book seems to be
woven not out of words,

"but out of the very
tissue of human beings.

"Who is this Martha
gellhorn? Her writing burns.

"Hemingway himself does not
write more authentic American..."

As usual, the
critic got it wrong.

I mean, comparing
me to you is ridiculous.

All I really did was listen.

It's their dialogue.

The whole trick is writing the way
people talk. Most people never listen.

I set out to cover grimy lives,

and I ended up looking glamorous
on the cover of the Saturday review.

I have the same problem.

(Laughs)

I think I should go.

- How much do I owe you?
- Oh, please. I practically own the place.

Papa, now we're really late.

It's all right, I'm going.

Buy yourself a new
shirt, Hemingway.

It was nice knowing you.

Gellhorn.

Come on, papa.
Pauline's gonna be mad.

Who's pauline?

May I help you?

Is this the Hemingway house?

Yes. I'm pauline Hemingway.

Mrs. Hemingway.

I met Mr. Hemingway
at Sloppy Joe's.

(Laughs) Yes, of
course. Sloppy Joe's.

Well, you're late.

Come in.

(Military music
playing in distance)

Such an interesting room.

My husband likes to say, "kill enough animals
and you probably won't kill yourself."

I can see he's not
taking any chances.

Ernest has read every
word he writes aloud to me.

I'm his first pair of ears
and his first pair of eyes.

So you're his muse. That
makes you very lucky.

Great talent needs a
great amount of care.

But we've managed to
make a very happy life here.

Ernest likes to surround
himself with exotic characters.

- Dos passos: Fascist propaganda!
- (Soldiers marching on film)

(Beckoning indistinctly)

Some people believe that Franco
would not be able to win this war

if he didn't have any support.

Hitler and Mussolini,

you see him here,

are literally throwing money and
weapons to Franco and the fascists.

Meanwhile, america and the
rest of Europe are doing nothing.

And why?

Because the only images the world
sees come from fascist propaganda.

(Footsteps echoing)

Dos passos: Fascism is on
the move, make no mistake.

And what is
happening in Spain is...

It's a threat to our
democracy as well.

We need to tell the truth of what is
happening to these people in Spain,

these people who are trying to defend
their democratically-elected government.

(Ay carmela playing)

(All singing ay carmela)

(Singing ay carmela)

Here you see some of
the Russian forces there,

who are also in support.

All young men, as you can
see, dedicated to la causa.

(Laughing) Dos, who is that horrid
little man dressed as an undertaker?

Pauline, this is mikhail koltsov.
He's a Russian journalist.

Joris: Koltsov is not just a
journalist, he's Stalin's eyes and ears.

Only Russia supplies the
loyalists with arms, medicine,

food to feed orphans
and starving peasants.

I would like to introduce the
director of this film, joris lvens,

the great Dutch
documentary filmmaker,

who, with your help,

will be able to return to
Spain and complete this film.

Woman: Beautiful.
Man: Excellent work.

Oh, and it is also our great
privilege to have with us tonight

a man who has seen firsthand the
horrors that Franco and the fascists

are inflicting upon his people,

he is also my very dear
friend, professor paco zarra.

Paco: Well, there
are many heroes.

I only wish I could have
brought them all with me tonight.

But we are all counting
on you for your support.

Hemingway: Hey,
you started without me!

Oh, well, if it isn't our host.

- Hey, joris!
- Hemingway.

In case any of you are
wondering how to sign your checks,

write with a Parker!

- Write like Hemingway.
- Fame's a whore, dos,

doesn't mean to say she
can't do something good.

I missed you, you prick.

(Quietly) My book's outselling
you in Russia, you know.

Can I say how
happy I am for you?

- You could, but that would ruin it.
- (Chuckleys)

Hemingway: Gellhorn.

Martha gellhorn,
John dos passos,

greatest writer in america
not named Hemingway.

John dos passos.

Hemingway thinks
writing is a blood sport.

Don't kid yourself, dos.

Gellhorn here is a bestselling
author. I read her review.

She's gunning for both of us.

- And to think she never said a word!
- Excuse me.

Sidney, darling, will you
take the boys out of here

- and go play bullfighter or something?
- Sure.

(Laughing) Here we go!

The boys don't
need to see all of this.

Come on, the boys should
see the world for what it is.

Not tonight.

- Paco zarra.
- Very nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you.

- L admire what you're doing.
- Thank you.

Pauline: There's two sides
to this little war in Spain.

You're only raising
money for one of them.

Why are you backing
the communists?

- Pauline...
- Mrs. Hemingway,

communist is not the
same as anti-fascist.

Does anti-fascist
mean you kill catholics?

Well, sadly, the church has
allied itself with the fascists.

Pauline: I'm sorry, but in
this house, we are catholics.

Catholic in america is very
different than catholic in Spain.

I've heard the loyalists
go into people's homes,

and god help you if they
find a cross on the wall.

Oh, I'm not sure I
believe all of that.

What do you believe,
dear? Do you go to church?

Actually, no.

Oh, gellhorn! Is that...

I'm half Jewish.

Is there such a thing?

No, we're not
closed-minded, dear.

While Ernest was in Spain, he met
Sidney, a Brooklyn-born bullfighter.

Now, Sidney's Jewish,
too, and he's just like family.

Mmm-hmm.

Papa? Why don't you
come back to my country?

If you told our story,
the world would listen.

No writer alive has done more
to support the Spanish people,

but my husband has a family
right here and a deadline on a novel.

- And you?
- Well, I believe that the Spanish civil war

is just a dress rehearsal
for the next world war,

and I think that anyone
that can go should go.

And how the hell do you
think you'll manage that?

You ever try to get
into a war zone?

I'm resourceful.

- I think you must come. I mean it.
- So, enough politics, it's late.

Somebody has to get up
in the morning and write.

Do you want to come this way?

We need you.

We need journalists from all over the world
to report what's really happening in Spain.

Pauline's right, you know, hem. We
could all use a new Hemingway novel.

Besides, we need some
good men on the domestic front.

Come to Spain and
you'll see it for yourself.

I'll be leaving tomorrow morning for Madrid,
and I hope you can find a way to come.

People from all over the
world are heading into Spain.

Writers, poets,
artists, laborers,

all passionate
believers in la causa.

The people of Spain need to
know that help is on the way.

I'm gonna sing you our
song. Okay? It starts like this.

(Paco singing ay carmela)

(Singing)

(Guests continue
singing ay carmela)

(Both continue singing)

(Men singing ay carmela)

Old Martha: I
believed that all one did

about a war was go to it
as a gesture of solidarity

and get killed or, if lucky,
survive until the war was over.

A knapsack and about $50.
That was my equipment for Spain.

Anything more
seemed unnecessary.

Needed to get papers, so I
cajoled a friend at Collier's

to write me a letter naming
me war correspondent,

- (chuckling)
- (Bleats)

Even though I had never
written a word about war.

Fancy collar.

- His name is sandor.
- Mmm.

- Hello, sandor.
- (Bleats)

What a beautiful
collar you have.

(Soldier speaking
foreign language)

Rabbit's foot.

It's good luck.

I'm going to the front to
fight Franco and the fascists.

- Good for you.
- Thank you.

You?

I'm a writer.

With those legs?

Actually, I don't
use them to write.

Though I once knew a man who
played the xylophone with his toes.

(All laughing)

It's true.

Thank you.

When I looked at the faces of the
men in the international brigades,

I found I loved
them immeasurably.

They were private citizens,
here at their own expense.

They came to Spain for a cause,

compelled not by
government but by passion.

(Singing) From this valley
they say you are going

we will miss your bright
eyes and sweet smile

for they say you are
taking the sunshine

that has brightened
the pathways awhile

come and sit by my
side if you love me

do not hasten to bid me adieu

just remember
that red river valley

and the boy who
has loved you so true

don't you think of the
valley you are leaving

or how lonely and sad it will be

oh, and think of the fond
hearts you're breaking

(snoring)

And the grief that
you're causing to me

come and sit by my
side if you love me

do not hasten to bid me adieu

just remember...

Would you like some
more wine, Mr. Hemingway?

Thank you.

Smell that air!

Spanish earth!

Hey, we're meeting
our battalion in Madrid.

Can I hitch a ride?

You can't. It's too
tough for a woman.

(Laughing)

Old Martha: I had this feeling that
one had to work all day and all night,

and love as many people
as one could, and do it all,

do it all terribly fast.

(Bleating)

(Speaking in Russian)

(Sighs)

(Ordering in Russian)

Press release from
commissar koltsov.

Come on, baby.

- Press release.
- We do it standing up, we make a tripod.

Press release from
commissar koltsov.

You're not listening.

To beat the fascists, we need to
beat them in the propaganda war.

Beat the fascists,
you need to kill them.

You're both wrong.

You have to win over the
peasants, give them irrigation.

(Speaking Spanish)

(Welcoming in Spanish)

- Gentlemen.
- Welcome to Spain!

Woman: Papal!

- Now we gonna beat that bastard Franco!
- Hey!

You still like
cocido madrilefio?

Hell, yes, lupe. Why do you
think I came back to Spain?

For you!

(Thanking in Spanish)

(Speaking foreign language)

A true honor.

I am mikhail koltsov,
and I always say,

"Ernest Hemingway
is america's Tolstoy."

Papa.

- Have a drink.
- Gentlemen.

(All toasting in
foreign languages)

Boy, this is a surprise.

I didn't think pauline was
gonna let you off the leash.

Look at that!

That help you get laid, dos?

Reporter 1: Papa!
Reporter 2: Mr. Hemingway!

- Papa, what you gonna do to Franco?
- Reporter 3: Why did you come here?

I'm here with director joris lvens
and my good friend, John dos passos.

(Camera clicks)

We're gonna make a movie.

We're gonna show the
world the noble struggle

of those defending the
elected government of Spain.

(Rumbling)

Reporter 4: Hey, what's that?

(Reporters
chattering indistinctly)

Man 1: Here, pass it back.

It's Russian! It's
Russian. It's one of ours.

Is there a doctor here?

Man 2: Is this a woman?

- She made it.
- I know. It's great.

(Panting)

(Grunts)

Well, look who's here.

Well, hello, Hemingway.

You know how to
make an entrance.

Why? Jealous?

- All cinderella had was a pumpkin.
- (Groans)

Cinderella needs a drink.

Joris. Dos. Hello, paco.

- I told you I'd make it.
- Si, thank you.

Glad to be here.

Paco: I'm so happy you're
here. Welcome to Madrid.

In here?

Oh, boy.

Attaboy, let it out. You're one
tough Hungarian, my friend.

Hey, where's the front? It's
supposed to be around here.

Twelve blocks away.

Follow the streetcar tracks.

Man: Just past the
university. You can't miss it.

(Bleating)

(Sighs)

- I'm Martha gellhorn.
- Who?

Martha gellhorn.

From Collier's.

You have something
from Collier's?

Uh...

I do.

(Sighs)

War correspondent?

In name only.

Oh!

(Exhales)

Needed that.

You're a long way
from Sloppy Joe's.

Pull in your claws, kitten.

I was always gonna be here.

Okay, sign here.

- Room 428.
- Four twenty-eight?

You're on the safe
side of the building.

Hey, capa!

Look what we got here.

A real war correspondent.

Another one.

It's getting crowded
at the bar, you know.

Closest most of them get to a gun is
standing next to a soldier in the pissoir.

Not this one. Martha gellhorn, meet
my Hungarian friend, Robert capa.

Capa. Nice to meet you.

I know your photographs.

- Need another drink?
- Need a bath.

Sidney! Bath.

- Really, I can turn a spigot.
- No hot water. Need to boil.

Need to sleep.

(Quietly) I'm on the same floor.

Oh.

Look at that.

Her legs begin at her shoulders.

(Sighs deeply)

(Woman shouting indistinctly)

(Sighs)

(Rumbling)

Hmm.

(Prostitute speaking Spanish)

(Sighs)

Oh.

(Chuckles)

It's all yours.

(Man laughing)

(Prostitute speaking Spanish)

- (Woman screaming) (Rumbling)

(Men speaking Russian)

(Door locking)

Hemingway!

Hemingway! Open the door!

Come on! Let...

Let me out of here!

Hemingway!

(Grunts)

(Panting)

(Woman screaming)

(Doorknob clicks)

How dare you, bastard!

Excuse me, sweetness?

Why the hell would
you lock me in here?

In case you hadn't noticed, gellhorn,
as you're the only blonde in the joint,

but there's a city of
men, desperate men,

some of whom know
they're gonna die,

death frees the beast.

Do I need to tell you what
these bastards could do

to a big, creamy bitch
like you in the dark?

Okay, enough, Hemingway. I get it.
There's a war going on, don't trust anyone.

So how do I know if I
can even trust you now?

The best way to find out
if you can trust somebody

is to trust him.

(Chuckles)

(People cheering)

(Marching band
playing ay carmela)

Joris: Werner, you're right.

- This is the best angle.
- (Gasps)

- Camera here.
- Yeah.

Joris: Look! Look! They're arriving! It's
the marseillaise battalion from France.

We can see papineau from Canada.

(Crowd singing ay carmela)

Abraham Lincoln brigade.

- Werner, you're getting this, right?
- Yeah.

Okay, let's go downstairs.

Hemingway: Coming?

Yeah.

Man: Later, ladies.

(Prostitutes speaking Spanish)

(Crowd continues
singing ay carmela)

(All cheering)

Martha: Brooklyn! Brooklyn!

Hemingway: Gellhorn! Come on!

Martha: Wait! Wait up!

(Truck engine starts)

Papa, wait! Papal!

(Man speaking Spanish)

Right there!

Martha: Hey, look,
they're showing your movie.

Hemingway: Not my movie.

- Oh, you didn't like it?
- Never saw it. Heard they loused it up.

I agree. I think they miscast
Helen Hayes as Catherine barkley.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah!

Everyone's a critic.

Look, Werner. Look.
All those people.

- Hemingway:: Hey, dos! Get over here!
- Right.

- Joris, come on.
- Say, "cheese."

(Man cheering in Spanish)

(Woman cheering in Spanish)

(All cheering in Spanish)

Dos passos: It's so great we're doing
this, hem. It's gonna be a wonderful film.

Hemingway: Jesus. Irrigation.

Dos passos: Oh, what's
wrong with irrigation?

Hemingway: Nothing, if you
like watching guys dig ditches.

We do our job right, we
make people want to watch.

Come on. There's a
goddamn war to film.

This is why there's
a goddamn war, hem.

A year ago, these people were
shot for stepping on this land.

Old Martha: It made
you proud to see

the joy and determination
of the Spanish people.

You looked, and you
knew our cause was just

and we could not lose.

To rule this country,

Franco would have to do away
with 20 million of those brave souls.

(Whirring)

Tastes like freedom.

Dos, that may be the worst
line you ever came up with,

which is saying something.

Well, that may
be, but it's true.

Now these people can irrigate their land
and raise food for the defenders of Madrid.

- You're an idealist.
- (Coughys)

Who wants to irrigate when
fascists have a boot on your neck?

(Man clears throat noisily)

- (Man urging in Spanish)
- Uh...

(Man speaking Spanish)

(Man laughs)

(Car horn honking)

How are our filmmakers today?

(Gunshots firing)

Paco!

(Speaking Spanish)

Dos passos: Yes, he's here!

- It's paco!
- Man: Wait! That's uncle paco!

(Shouts in Spanish)

Paco! Paco!

This could be the
best shot in the film!

There's fighting five
kilometers from here. Let's go!

That's where we should
be! Let's go, come on!

Paco: What are you waiting
for, Russian? Come with us!

(Both speaking Spanish)

- Man: Get your clothes dirty!
- (Men laughing)

- Hey, dos! Coming?
- I know what fighting looks like.

I'm staying here.

(Soldiers yelling)

Joris: No! Werner, get back!

Get down, get down, get down.

(Guns firing)

Up! Paco!

Let's get close.

(Camera clicks)

(Ragtime music playing)

What is that?

Man: What? What is it?

Man on loudspeakers: Red dogs,
your leaders have sent you here to die!

General Franco is willing
to give his blood for you.

(Man on loudspeaker
speaking Spanish)

(Gunshot)

(Groans)

Hemingway: You
trying to get us killed?

They see a reflection,
they got a ripe target.

(Swearing in Spanish)

Surrender now!

- Take it till you get paco!
- Surrender now!

(Gun firing)

Fascist bastards!

(Man on loudspeaker
speaking Spanish)

(Panting)

You told the bastards off.

Madrid is protected.

Yes, it is protected

for today.

Are you okay?

(Ay carmela playing)

(All cheering)

(Shouting in Spanish)

Watercress.

I used to get the most
unchristly indigestion.

With this, I can eat a truck
tire wrapped in chili peppers

and sleep like a baby.

(Chuckles)

Wild onions.

Locals say, "eat
two onions a day,

"you'll live to be 100."

What do the locals
say about one's breath?

They say

it is a taste one must
(Exhales) Acquire.

Oh!

Paco!

Paco, my friend!

Come! We must talk. Please.

Hey, it's okay. You leave him
there. We'll talk for two minutes.

We talk just for two
minutes. We talk. Talk.

- Slide in.
- Paco: In the car? Why?

Mikhail: Okay, go.

(Whinnies)

So how'd you learn
to have fun in hell?

Family vacations.

(Chuckles)

(Speaking Spanish)

Oh, uh...

She says she has your coat.

My... no. No, no. Tell her
she's... this is not my coat.

(Speaking Spanish)

She says it is your coat, and
that's why she's giving it to you.

No, tell her...
No, thank... no...

- Beautiful, but no, I can't accept...
- Then you must pay her something.

Pay her? I can't
afford the coat!

- (Speaking Spanish)
- I can't afford! No, thank you.

(Speaking Spanish)

She's simply asking if
you like this coat of yours.

- I like it, yes. Beautiful. But not for me...
- Oh, for Christ's sakes! Don't you get it?

Look. There. Now...

Now, it is your coat, just as
she said from the beginning.

There's a lot of bargains
to be had in wartime,

if you don't mind wearing
the clothes of the dead.

Now can we go celebrate?

(Speaking Spanish)

Hungarian, where is sandor?

Oh, sandor is gone.

Woman: He will come back.
Hungarian: No, he won't.

Woman: You never
know when he will turn up.

(People laughing)

Hemingway: And have the waiters
say our nada. You art in nada.

Nada be thy nada. Thy
will be nada as it is in nada.

Give us this nada, our
daily nada, nada, nada...

(All laughing)

Hey, dos! Do we bore you?

Paco should be here by now.

Oh, drink up, for Christ's
sake, the man's invincible.

He probably just stepped off to seek
relief from one of our hors de combat here.

Relax.

Even a time magazine cover boy

needs to drink with the
lowlifes every once in a while.

Lay off, hem.

Hemingway: There
goes a truly wet blanket.

- (All laughing)
(Speaking Spanish)

(All toasting in Spanish)

Do you speak English?

Have you seen paco zarra?

- Have you seen him today since...
- (Man refusing in Spanish)

- (Speaking Spanish)
- (Responding in Italian)

(Playing Latin music)

Hey, Sidney.

Go get her.

Sidney: This
one's for you, papal

(both speaking Spanish)

(Laughing)

You were at the irrigation
project today, right?

Yes, sir, I was.

Did you see paco? He
should be here by now.

I don't know.

Have you seen him recently?

- No?
- No, I haven't. I'm sorry.

(All toasting in Spanish)

(Exhales) Oh...

Just outside the hotel, this.

Look, even with bombs falling,

her mother wanted to make sure
she was wearing her best coat.

- Yes.
- Aw.

Except it's buttoned
wrong. Look.

There wasn't time.

Yes, yes, yes.

You capture that human theme.
That need to do something, to...

To exert control even when your
world is spinning out of control.

Yes. You understand.

(Exhales)

I want to do what you do.

I do. I want to do it, I want to
write the way you take pictures.

Mmm.

There's so much going
on in this war, so much.

And yet when I sit down,
when I start to write, nothing.

Nothing. I can...

(Sighs)

- So what's your secret? Tell me your secret.
- There is no secret.

The pictures are there,
you just take them.

If your pictures
aren't good enough,

you're not close enough.

But you have the talent.

It is not enough to have talent.

You also have to be Hungarian.

(Guitar playing)

(Singing in Spanish)

I must you to know
I am general Petrov.

I am a great admirer of
you, figure of goddess,

and it would be honor

for you to...

(Chuckles)

...dance with me. No, come.

- Come.
- Dance? No, no. No.

You are a goddess.

Dance.

No, no. Come. Come, come. Now.

- Me?
- No, come. Come to dance with me now.

- Hemingway:: Hey.
- Come, come, come.

Hey, back off, general caviar, what
the hell do you think you're doing here?

What I am doing here? I am
doing seduction of beautiful woman.

Come on, I'm not your property.

Say just the two of us
step outside, mi general?

- (Gunshot) (All gasp)

We make duel.

Hemingway: I thought
Russians had balls.

How about a little
Russian roulette?

- (Agreeing in Russian)
- Yeah?

Sidney, pistol!

- Oh, come on.
- Sidney!

(Speaking Russian)

This is madness,
what are you doing?

(Grunting)

- Ready?
- Wait!

Wait. Wait. Wait, wait.

Go back to
typewriter, journalist.

Please wait. Please, as
both of you are about to die,

or one of you, either
way, it will be regrettable,

but one thing must be had first.

The honor of Russia is at stake.

Fuck Russia.

Vodka! Vodka.

Vodka. Vodka.

Made for Peter the great.

Vodka. Vodka. Vodka. Vodka.

One last drink before you die.

(Exhales)

One last. Just one. With caviar.

On real bread.

With music.

(Singing in Spanish)

Simmer down, papa.

Come on, we have a film to make.

Take it easy.

I think maybe, today we all learn something,
each day, we acquire an education.

The thing one comes to know
about war are not so simple.

Did you say, "fuck Russia"?

So what if I did?

- (Sighs)
- Well, I say fuck america!

My country is here.

Where is yours?

He's right, america should be here.
The whole world should be here.

The fascists are trampling Spain,
and you two are comparing testicles.

It's ridiculous.

No.

We cooked the goat.

No, not sandor!

No!

You eat!

Martha: How could
that Hungarian do this?

- Ohl - sometimes
sacrifice is an art.

(All laughing)

(Camera clicks)

(Cheering in Spanish)

(Camera clicking)

(Gunshot)

(Boy crying)

Old Martha: Soon, disaster swung like a
compass needle, aimlessly, all over the city.

Past the street barricades,
the only sound you heard

was a machine gun
hammering in the university city

(bird squawking)

And a bird.

It was a crazy war. We could
take a streetcar to the front.

(Thudding)

(Fighter jets passing overhead)

Get this. Get that. Are you
getting it? Are we getting it?

Yeah, yeah. I lost the...

The front was only blocks
away, it was very cold,

and the thuds of mortar
shells were all around,

but we had a film to make.

- Joris: Set the camera here.
- (Woman screaming)

Get down!

- (Gasping)
- There's stray bullets everywhere.

(Shouting in Spanish)

Look at that.

Fucking grace under pressure.

- Hey, ta!
- Get down!

(Speaking Spanish)

Get down!

(Both speaking Spanish)

I invited him to join us
for a drink after work.

(Door opens)

Man: Francisco!

(Sighs)

You sure taught them a lesson.

You lobbed grenades
right onto their fascist asses.

Good. They deserve it.

Hemingway: Fascism
is a lie told by bullies.

One day, Felipe here is
a champion jai alai player,

and the next, he's hurling
grenades instead of pelotas.

Reporter: Listen to Hemingway.

You'd think his side
was winning the war.

There's atrocities
on both sides.

The important thing is
to report with objectivity.

Objectivity?

Fuck all your objectivity shit.

What got into her?

Reporter: Hemingway, no doubt.

(People screaming)

(Speaking Spanish)

(Bombs whistling)

(Explosion)

(Speaking Spanish)

(Airplane passing overhead)

- (Panting)
- (Wailing)

There's a cat?

That's no cat.

That's no cat. That's no cat!

Gellhorn!

(Wailing continues)

Gellhorn!

Boy: Mama. Mama.

Mama.

Martha: Come on. (Grunting)

(Gasps)

(Panting)

(Boy sobbing)

Come with me.

Come with me.

Mama!

Mama.

Martha: It's okay.

Are you fucking stupid?

You are not supposed to charge
out in the middle of a shelling.

Little boys are not supposed to
see their mothers bleed to death.

Sarita.

- No.
- Check the boy. Get him some water.

(Speaking Spanish)

- I've got blood on my hands. I can't...
- Then, wash it off.

(Both speaking Spanish)

- (Breathing shakily)
- Gellhorn.

Wash your hands.

Man: More coming!

Bravest woman I ever saw.

(Typing)

Spying, gellhorn?

No.

You're supposed to be a war correspondent.
So where's your correspondence?

What are you, just
a fucking war tourist?

Um...

I...

I can't write. I can't...

I'm trying and I
can't get anything.

I...

I feel like I don't know enough.

I don't know enough
about the war and about...

About the military
and about... I just...

(Sighs)

I don't...

The only thing that really interests
me is people and their lives,

their daily lives, that's...

And I...

Who's going to be
interested in that, really?

There's nothing
to writing, gellhorn.

All you do is sit down at
your typewriter and bleed.

Mmm-hmm.

Do what you did in appalachia,

write about ordinary
people, and war

and Madrid.

(Sighs)

No, I...

- It's just I...
- Fucking get in the ring, gellhorn.

See what you're made of.

Start throwing some punches
for what you believe in.

Fucking war correspondent.

So, what?

Martha: As the bombs fall, you know
what the people in the square are thinking,

“I must get home."

Somehow, you do not
believe you can get killed

when you are sitting
in the comfort of home.

(Rumbling)

(Explosion)

Hemingway: Gellhorn!

Gellhorn. Come
on, we got to get out.

(Screams)

(Screams)

(Panting)

My god.

You have the most
goddamn sexual legs.

(Moans)

Is this what you want?

It's what I need.

(Moaning)

Martha: So, how
did you get this?

Hemingway: Fell off a ladder.

Martha: Mmm.

Hemingway: Skylight fell on me.

Martha: Really?

And your leg?

Hemingway: Italy. Mortar.

An Austrian minenwerfer.

Three Italians with me
had their legs blown off.

God, that must have been bad.

No, I was lucky,
knee's still attached.

Kept a bowl by my bed for
all the metal they took out.

Two hundred and
twenty seven pieces.

They awarded me the croce al
merito di guerra with three citations.

And he's a hero, too.

I hate the hero words.

And "sacred,"
"glorious," "sacrifice."

Never saw a damn
thing that was sacred.

Goddamn foot fungus.

What?

Bullfighters are plagued by it.

The great matador, Don junero,
gave me this amazing powder.

I think it was Don junero.

You think?

The important thing for a
writer is to tell a good story.

- So, is it true about the scars?
- Of course, it's true.

Let me tell you something
else about writers.

The best ones are all liars.

(Both laughing)

(Soldiers yelling indistinctly)

(Explosion)

(Breathing heavily)

Old Martha: It's hard to say exactly the
moment you fall in love with someone.

But I knew with him the exact
moment when I knew I had.

(Inaudible)

And I knew why.

In that instant, it was his words.
The ones I would never hear.

Whatever private
thing he uttered.

(Yelling continues)

(Yelling)

(Panting)

(Red river valley playing)

Hemingway!

Hemingway!

Hemingway!

Have you seen Hemingway?

(Speaking Italian)

Old Martha: The hotel
was being transformed

into a vast triage
for the wounded.

And it still had all the old furniture,
but it smelled, it smelled of ether.

And it was crowded
with bandaged men.

(Men groaning)

(People speaking indistinctly)

Capa!

Have you seen Hemingway?

I know that voice.

- Brooklyn.
- Gellhorn.

I've been thinking
about you, how are you?

How are you?

I'm... I'm fine.

- And you? How are you?
- I'm aces, now that you're here.

But the Hungarian.

Hey, where is he?

Hmm?

Ask me a different question.

(Sighs)

Let me get you a drink.

No, wait, wait.
Wait, wait, wait.

I want you to have this.

It'll make you lucky.

Hmm.

I'm gonna get you a drink.

(Exhales)

Here.

Oh...

There's papa.

(Inaudible)

I'll take care of him.

Mikhail: In the event
that Madrid should fall...

Madrid will never fall.

In the event Madrid should fall,

there should be no evidence of the
extent of Russian intervention in Spain.

Joris: Why can't we film this?

Mikhail: Now, let me be direct.

Zarra's brother

is a colonel with Franco.

It's a civil war.
Brother fights brother.

In this instance, Moscow believe
brother might not be fighting brother.

What, they think paco is a spy?

I saw him kill half a dozen
fascists in one afternoon.

Can you think of a better way
to get anti-fascists to trust you?

And you believe this?

I'm afraid it does not
matter what I believe.

Moscow is not comfortable with a
leader whose brother sits at Franco's side.

Something may happen.

What kind of something?

Something about which nothing can be done.
But I promise you, he will get a fair trial.

Fair trial?

(Inaudible)

- A man knows his friends.
- In Spain,

Russians can be very good to know.
We control access to all brigades.

And?

Our comrade, dos passos...

(Indistinct)

...is making it hard for Moscow
to continue granting this.

Bullshit.

Dos may be a genius of an ass,
but no one is more anti-fascist.

No one doubts the man's ideals,
I am talking about his behavior.

You cannot deny that dos passos,
you might say, is in love with paco zarra.

He hears a rumor about him, and suddenly
he is everywhere, talking to people...

War runs on rumors.

Let me be even more direct.

If it appears that paco zarra is a
spy, and if it appears that dos passos,

the man making this movie
with you, is involved with a spy,

then my hands are tied.

What the hell are
you suggesting?

I am suggesting that
you tell dos passos

that men should
not be so emotional.

Tell him to act more like a man
Hemingway would write about.

Hem, did he tell you
anything about paco?

Hem?

Old Martha: Two years
later, koltsov was arrested

in a purge in Moscow
and sentenced to death.

He truly believed in Stalin.

I sometimes wonder what he believed
as Stalin's thugs were dragging him off

to put a bullet in his head.

(Horns honking)

Welles: Oh, Mr. Hemingway,
how strong and how big you are!

Your writing is
phony! It's pompous!

My writing pompous?
Your voice is pompous!

Damn faggot!

Don't you try to tell me how to write
narration! What do you know about real war?

Funny how a man has to prove
himself manly, I wonder why?

Hemingway is right, your voice
is too hammy, it's a disaster!

You overrated,
ass-kissing narcissists!

Fuck that blowhard!
I'll narrate it myself.

I like that idea,
Hemingway. Let's try it.

Yeah, son also drinks a
little too much out of war.

- Hello, Orson.
- Oh, John, I quit!

What? (Stammers) What
do you mean you quit?

Hemingway: This Spanish
earth is hard and dry,

and the faces of the men who work
that earth are hard and dried from the sun.

This worthless land,
with water, will yield much.

For 50 years, we've
wanted to irrigate...

Ah, this is working! This is
working. This is much better.

Joris, what the hell's going on? I
just ran into welles, he says he quit!

(Shushing)

Quit? I fired his ass.

You what? You
fired... he can't...

You don't know the first thing
about narrating a film, hem!

Fucking actors.

Turn the projector off,
stop, stop. Turn the lights on.

With Orson welles
narrating, it was too theatrical.

But with Hemingway, we now
hear a natural voice, a real voice,

a man who has actually been to
Spain and wants to tell the world.

Trust me. This is working.

Okay.

Gellhorn, incoming bombs.

(Whistling)

- Everybody else ready? Music.
- (Explosion sound effect)

- Projector. (Instrumental
music playing)

Hemingway, you
ready? And, action!

(Gunfire sound effect)

(Whooshing sound effect)

(Whistling)

(Explosion sound effect)

Before, death came
when you were old or sick,

but now it comes
to all this village,

high in the sky
and shining silver.

It comes to all who have no
place to run, no place to hide.

Three junker planes did this.

This worthless land,
with water, will yield much.

For 50 years, we've wanted to
irrigate, but they've held us back.

Now, we will bring water to it, to
raise food for the defenders of Madrid.

That was my line.
Now it's hem's?

Hey, wait, joris.

(Stammers) Joris, where's
the shot of paco on horseback?

You said that was the
best shot of the film.

(Sighs)

Here it is. Oh, paco!

Wait a second, what is this?

You've taken him
out of the film entirely?

Shh!

He disappears in Spain and now you're
gonna make sure he disappears forever?

For Christ's sake,
dos, calm down.

Cuts have to be made to
make the film move better.

It's filmmaking, dos. There
are aesthetic decisions.

Welles' voice wasn't
right for our narration,

and now he's telling
you paco needs to be cut.

Paco is...

It's for balance, it's
for the film's good.

On, for the film's good,
or for Russia's good?

Don't insult me. I risked
my life to film this war.

Yes, and paco
risked his fighting it.

For god's sake, hem,
you don't do this to a friend.

Why is it, whenever
I mention paco...

What is it you're
not telling me?

Something I don't think you'd
have the stomach to hear.

Or it's something you don't
have the stomach to say.

It's all right, dos.

Nobody says a coward
can't make a great writer.

You should go off and write.

We could use a new
book by dos passos.

Old Martha: After Spain,
dos passos changed.

He never regretted his
stand against Franco,

but because of what happened to
paco, his politics moved far to the right.

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen,
tonight the American writers' congress,

which is sponsored by the
league of American writers,

is proud to present the first
motion picture of Spain's battlefront.

Directed by joris ivens,

and written by Ernest Hemingway in
collaboration with John dos passos.

We also have in attendance tonight
Archibald macleish, Donald ogden Stuart...

There are people...

- Shut up. Shut up!
- What are you doing?

Ow! God, get off.

- Fuck.
- Fuck you!

(Panting)

- This is your fault.
- My fault?

You don't remember me
shoving you up against a wall

and trying to shove your
hand into my knickers.

Cunt.

You want to emasculate
me now, in front of the world?

Oh, I get it.

I get it now.

Hemingway has stage fright.

Is that it?

Okay.

(Ay carmela playing)

(Both moaning softly)

This totally feels
like horse hair.

And you, in this
fucking fur coat.

(Announcer
speaking indistinctly)

(Audience applauding)

Papa.

You're on.

You're gonna be fine.

Joris: Now, ladies
and gentlemen,

just back from
the Spanish front,

my friend, my hero,
Ernest Hemingway.

Papa, come on!

Ladies and gentlemen,

I am a writer.

So, the last thing a writer
should be asked to do is talk.

Excuse me.

(Coughs)

Fascists may destroy cities,

but the earth will outlive
all systems of tyranny.

For those who have
entered the earth honorably,

and no men ever entered earth more
honorably than those who died in Spain,

have already
achieved immortality.

The film you are going
to see is about such men.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the Spanish earth.

(Inaudible)

Just a minute, ladies and
gentlemen, just a minute.

I see we have a very
special guest here,

a woman who has shared
our adventures in Spain.

- A writer for Collier's
magazine, - (mouthing)

Please give a warm
welcome to Martha gellhorn.

(Audience applauding)

Uh, ladies and gentlemen,

people speak of
the glory of battle,

the sweep of governments,
the majesty of leaders,

but go into the ravaged towns and hold
the hand of a starving, half-burned child,

and you will know differently.

My job,

our job,

is to give voice to the voiceless,
to bear witness to the innocent

and to expose the lies that
mask evil with glorious rhetoric.

(Audience cheering)

- Right here, papa.
- One more?

- Right here, right here, sir.
- Mr. Hemingway!

Appreciate it, sir.

- Papa! Papa!
- Got some good shots. Yes, sir.

- Wait here, papa.
- One more before you go.

- Mr. Hemingway? Mr. Hemingway?
- Thank you. Very nice. Thank you.

Good job. Thanks a lot.

Thanks a lot, guys.
That was good.

Get you guys back on the
way out. Thanks again, guys.

Thank you, sir.
Thank you for coming.

- Absolutely.
- Thank you for your support.

Let me give you one
of these pamphlets.

One for you here, sir, explaining
everything about the cause in Spain.

Spain got my
juices flowing, Max.

The work's good.
I've got a great title.

That's what
editors like to hear.

For whom the bell tolls.

John donne.

"Each man's death diminishes
me, for I am involved in mankind,

"therefore, ask not
for whom the bell tolls,

"it tolls for thee."

It's going to be his best novel.

Believe me, I've
edited all of them.

Every time I think he can't
get any better, he does.

It is the Mark
of a great writer.

Exactly. I know.

Perkins: You should know.

I could say the same about
your articles for Collier's.

Believe me, scribner's is interested,
if you ever want to write a book.

Really?

You can't Filch her, Perkins.
I've got her locked up at Collier's.

Stories are so
good, we want more.

Actually, you know, I wasn't
sure that gals have the stuff

to be war reporters.

Well, women get
bombed the same as men.

Yeah, well, I want to
get bombed right now.

Eastman: Joris, joris. Great film.
Narration's over the top, though.

Doing...

There he is.

- Critic!
- Let me give you a piece of...

Get over here.

Pardon me for a minute.

- Critic!
- Easy, hem.

Easy? Nobody shits on your work.

I need another drink.

Hello, Hemingway.

Hello, eastman. I was just...

Max.

I was just telling my friends here what
you said about my book. Remember?

I don't believe I do.

"His talent's been outstripped
by fear of his flagging masculinity."

Then you said,

"come out from behind that
false hair on your chest, Ernest.

"We all know you."

Well, you memorized it.

Oh, come on, papa,
you're not sore?

No. I just want to
discuss it with you.

- See?
- Oh, god.

Do you see that?

That's what a man looks like.

My lord, you're serious.

Let's see what you got on
your chest, you fucking Nancy!

(All exclaiming)

No, no. Hem! Hem!

Son of a bitch!

No, that's it. Move
away. Come on.

I got a hairier
chest than you, pal.

Hairier!

Photographers: Hemingway!
Hemingway! Right here!

Papa! Right here, papal

eastman: Second-rate
son of a bitch!

Don't you know
adultery is a sin?

This is a catholic home!

You are never getting a divorce.

I won't see you
destroyed by some,

some gellhorn.

You told me you
loved me so much,

that love was all that mattered.

(Sobbing) Your love is just
something mounted on the wall.

Your love is... doesn't... dirty
little sex tricks you taught me

that you probably learned
from one of your whores!

Haven't I cared for
you through your rages,

and your jealousies

and your meanness?

I told the world you were a
genius. I gave you all of this.

Oh, manly
Hemingway. All of this!

All of this!

To prove you're
not a mama's boy.

(Breathing heavily)

(Urging in Spanish)

Comparing your penis
to f. Scott Fitzgerald,

telling everyone
that yours is bigger?

- I know the truth!
- Sidney: Pauline!

What are you doing?

Take them out of here.

- Take them out of here!
- Whatever you say, pauline.

- Boy 1: What's wrong with mommy?
- Come on, boys. Let's go.

- Boy 2: What's the matter?
- Up to your room.

Do our boys mean nothing to you?

You think I'm going to let you
leave me like you left Hadley?

This time, you're
staying married.

You think that this
gellhorn cares about you?

She is using you!

She will not be your muse.
She will leave you a broken man.

What do you want?

What do you want?

(Latin music playing)

(Chuckles)

Hemingway: Who
wants a papa doble?

- Papa whose's?
- Papa doble.

Two and a half jiggers
bacardi white label rum,

juice of two limes, half a grapefruit,
plus six drops of maraschino.

You whir the whole mess with
shaved ice in an electric mixer,

and you're ready to rumba.

I invented the damn drink, and I
own the house record in drinking them.

Seventeen.

- You're on, son.
- Count me in.

- Right.
- Double sawbuck to the winner.

- Spain.
- All: Spain!

- The death of fascism.
- All: Yeah!

Hemingway: Gellhorn's a real thoroughbred,
but she's skittish in the stretch.

Martha: (Scoffs)
We'll see about that.

(Latin music continues playing)

Mmm-hmm.

Nineteen.

I swear by Christ, you're more
of a man than most men I've met.

Just say that I won.

- You didn't win.
- No, say it. Say it. I won.

We're taking a break.
We'll call it a draw.

Draw, my ass,
god damn it. I won!

I'm less body
weight than you, so...

- Technically, I'm more alcohol than you are.
- Right, so now,

- there's algebra involved.
- So say I won.

Why can't you say I won?

- Say I won.
- Oh, yeah, I bet you're a sore winner, too.

- How much do you wanna bet?
- How much you got?

(Giggling)

(Martha continues giggling)

(Both moaning)

(Dancers talking indistinctly)

(Gasps)

(Giggling)

(Woman speaking Spanish)

(Breathing heavily)

(Martha moans)

(Man speaking Spanish)

(Moaning)

Martha: It's called finca vigia.

We can get it for
next to nothing.

We can write here together.

What do you think?
Isn't it perfect?

(Cats meowing)

We'll have to give
the guests machetes.

(Chuckling)

Who needs guests?

What do you think?

So can we stay?

(Chuckling)

(Announcer speaking Spanish)

(People shouting indistinctly)

I still can't believe it.

You never really know what
you're fighting for until you lose.

(Announcer continues
speaking Spanish)

(Ay carmela playing)

Old Martha: After Spain, I felt
such despair for the human race.

I thought, "we're
forever bitched."

Spain. Spain really
broke my heart.

Nobody listened.

Nobody.

And the fascists won.

The fascists won.

You listen to me, gellhorn.

A man can be destroyed,
but not defeated.

If he's still standing,
he can fight.

I'm writing to show the world
what we were fighting for in Spain.

(Soldiers marching)

(People cheering)

Hemingway: A man can be
destroyed, but not defeated.

If he's still standing,
he can fight.

(Latin music playing)

(Cats meowing)

(Typing)

(Continues typing)

What time is it?

It was high noon an hour ago.

Writing since 6:00.

Come on, gellhorn.

Get up and bite on the nail.

Go away.

(Typing)

(Paper rustling)

(Continues typing)

(Martha sighs)

What are you trying
to do, spook me?

Past five minutes,
I've watched you.

I've watched you type pages and
let them float into the wastebasket.

Never crumple pages. Always let
them float gently into the basket.

Any writer who rips out
his stuff and crumples it

will be insane in a
year, guaranteed.

God, we went through
two bottles of scotch,

wine, absinthe, and yet
you can get up in the morning

at the crack of dawn and write.

Writing's like mass. God
gets mad if you don't show up.

Come on. You don't
write on sundays.

Yeah, but sundays,
there's real mass.

I still don't understand
you and catholicism.

Happened right after
I married pauline.

The moment I said, "i
do," I was struck impotent.

Oh.

Nada. Sefior linguine.

She had me go to
church. It worked.

I had my very own resurrection.

(Chuckles)

Hell, I would have French kissed
John the baptist for a hard-on.

Oh, there's an
image I will Cherish.

After that, I figured
I'd stay catholic.

Why jinx things?
Hey, no snooping.

Come on, muses always snoop.

What did you...

"Maybe today, we've all learned something.
Each day we acquire an education.

"The things one comes to know
about war are not so simple."

That's what koltsov said.

You...

So, this Karkov,

he's based on koltsov.

Who knows? Could be.

You don't forget
anything, do you?

Do you?

I forgot one thing.

No.

(Scoffs)

You're dedicating that to me?

Gellhorn, you inspire
the hell out of me.

(Moans)

Wait, no, no, wait. I've got to
talk to you about something.

- Not now. Done by noon...
- But I do!

- ...drunk by 3:00.
- I have to talk to you about something.

- Wait!
- That's my philosophy.

(Both laughing)

Martha: Oh!

(Moans)

(Grunts)

(Breathing heavily)

Oh, god.

God!

(Moans)

(Grunts)

Oh, god.

Life shouldn't be this
perfect. It really shouldn't.

Hemingway: It absolutely should.

A perfect moment.

But it's all still out there.

- What's all still out there?
- The world.

Collier's wants
me to go to Finland.

- Marty.
- Mmm-hmm?

In this world, when you find a
good place, you don't leave it.

I know.

But Stalin's expanding west now,
the Russians are bombing civilians.

Oh, don't pretend you
care about the Finns.

You just want a
war all to yourself.

Well, you're the
one who taught me.

Some wars are necessary, and
it's necessary to bear witness.

God damn you. I'm writing a
novel here. Aren't you happy?

I adore you. I...

I absolutely adore you.

But innocent people
are being blown up.

Someone has to go.
Someone has to write about this.

You mean someone has to leave.

I want to go.

I do.

I've gotta go.
There's things that...

There's things I
need to find out.

Perkins wants you to
write a novel for scribner's.

I don't want to write a novel.

Marty, stay here with me.

Happiness in intelligent
people is the rarest thing I know.

Marty.

Papa doesn't want you to go.

Don't "papa" me.

Will you come with me?

Come with me.

Old Martha: War in the arctic
is a very remarkable thing.

(Firing)

The Finns joke that they don't
believe Russian propaganda,

but they believe Russian bombs.

Martha: Careful!

I saw a boy of nine, standing outside
his burning home, watching the bombers.

He looked up at the sky
with a stubborn, serious face.

He had held himself stiffly so
as not to shrink from the noise.

Then he said, "little by
little, I'm getting really angry."

I'll put my money on three million
Finns against 180 million russkies.

After all, they are fighting
for their lives and their homes.

(Speaking foreign language)

Hemingway: My dearest
Marty, one thing you must know,

love is infinitely more
durable than hate.

Last night, I howled at the moon, and some
poor, wretched beast answered from the dark.

Maybe he has a Marty, too.

And so we howled together.

The animal, and the man
whom love has made an animal.

Martha: Your book is
what will last after us

and make that war intelligible.

Hemingway: Love, you
poison my typewriter.

How can I write with
every key screaming?

Since you left, I've had hangovers
they could name battleships after.

Today I remember the
heat of your naked skin.

Martha: I cannot wait to return to Cuba
and wallow in sun and quiet, and above all,

I shall be glad to
be home with you,

where I belong.

(Grunting)

Beloved, I learned from
you not to have the vanity

to think the planes were looking for
me and all bullets had my name on them.

I'm tired, and I
wish I were with you.

(All shouting indistinctly)

(Glass shattering)

(Laughing)

Hemingway: I am
stinko, deadly lonely.

We must promise and
pledge and swear out loud

to the love-drunk gods
on high that we will never...

Martha: And let's never...

Hemingway: Leave
each other again.

Martha: Never leave
each other again.

Mmm. Mmm.

Mmm.

(Latin music playing)

You're home.

Oh, the maid quit.

(Sighs) I wonder why.

What, you go away for two
months, then waltz back and bitch?

Come on.

Got something that
will make you happy.

You look terrible.

I'm fine. Now.

I just spent two months in
the arctic missing you like hell,

and I come home to
a Tijuana whorehouse.

They don't look like this.

Well, you would know.

- How do you write those letters?
- It's notarized.

Oh, my... you got a divorce.

Thing had to be done, I did it.

What about pauline?

It was bad.

I did it for us.

- Us? But I didn't ask...
- So we could get married.

I have a horror of
marriage. You know that.

I'd rather sin respectably.

Well, I'd rather make an
honest woman out of you.

So what do you think of that?

(Chuckles)

(Train whistle blowing)

(Rifle firing)

(Latin music continues playing)

(Horns honking)

Reporter 1: Mr. Cooper, over
here! Reporter 2: Mrs. Hemingway!

Reporter 3: Hemingway!
Reporter 4: Mrs. Hemingway!

Reporter 5: Bravo, Hemingway!

- Reporter 6: Miss Dietrich!
Miss Dietrich! (Camera clicking)

I have never been happier.

Uh-oh.

Last time you said that,
you ended up in Finland.

(Chuckles)

What is it now?

What?

Chiang Kai shek.

- China!
- Mmm-hmm.

Collier's has made me an offer.

Oh, Christ. Here she goes again.

(Singing in Spanish)

My assignment is to show what Japan is
really doing to innocent people in China.

And an interview with the
world's most powerful couple.

- Well, that's us, isn't it?
- Come on, be serious.

Me be serious?

(Scoffs)

You love your wife, Jackson?

Some days.

Some days.

(Both laughing)

Man's a Plato.

(Both chuckling)

So what do you say?

What do you have against China?

You know how filthy China is?

Come on.

You like filth. Hmm?

I had an uncle there.
A medical missionary.

Had to take out his own
appendix on horseback.

Oh, forget your uncle's appendix.
No one else is covering this.

This could be our war.

Oh, jeez. How many
wars do you need?

(Whispers) Don't think of it as
war. Think of it as a paid honeymoon.

Our honeymoon. Come on.

- Don't you want a honeymoon?
- This is our honeymoon.

A real honeymoon. Real.

- Come on, Hemingway, please?
- Marty!

Say yes. Please.

Oh, for Christ's
sakes, gellhorn.

- A man can't let his wife go alone to China.
- No, he can't.

Especially if she's blonde.

That's right. It would
be very dangerous.

- Who knows what would happen.
- Uh-huh.

(Both chuckle)

Thank you.

(People screaming)

(Bombs whistling)

Old Martha: I had been in Finnish
cities during bombing attacks,

and Madrid was swept
almost daily by artillery fire,

but China was
in a class by itself.

As the Japanese destroyed,
the Chinese residents repaired.

Endurance was the
secret Chinese weapon.

The Japanese should
have understood that,

and everyone else
had better remember it.

She has, a
whatchamacallit, bound feet.

Her feet were bound
and she cannot walk.

Mr. Ma: The Japanese
are bombing everything.

(Baby crying)

Martha: What is that?

- No...
- You must be careful.

- No, I hear...
- (Crying)

(Wailing)

Go no further. There is
nothing we can do for him.

This is off-limits.

Are you certain you
want to go in here?

Yes, yes. I do, Mr. Ma.

(Girl crying)

Mr. Ma: Be cautious, madam.

(Speaking mandarin)

No.

(Shushing)

No, no, you must
not use the water.

It's very bad. Very...

- (All laughing)
- Come on, we're celebrating.

For whom the bell tolls is
selling like ice cream in hell.

Clement said it's the finest
book written this decade.

Maybe the whole
goddamn century, eh?

Tell the one about
garbo's pants again.

(All laugh)

- Hey, it's the Marty.
- It's very bad.

She washed her
hands with the water.

She what?

- (All laughing) (Mouthing)

You must want to suffer.

Mmm-hmm. I must.
I'm in love with you.

All: Oh!

We must hurry, please. I have
gotten you a whatchamacallit,

an interview with
generalissimo chiang Kai shek.

Madame chiang, you look even
better than you do on the cover of time.

Thank you. You know what a bore it
can be, posing for magazine covers.

(Speaking mandarin)

The generalissimo wishes to tell you
communism is a disease of the heart.

The Japanese are
a disease of the skin.

Hemingway: Beautifully
put, generalissimo.

Yes, the communists hamper our
army against the Japanese invaders.

You must tell your
friend, Roosevelt.

Oh, we will. You
can count on it.

You must also tell him not to
worry about mao or zhou enlai.

These are the communist leaders.

(Speaking mandarin)

So-called leaders, of course.

No one can replace the
generalissimo in the hearts of his people.

May I ask, Mrs. Hemingway, do you
believe that war is men's business?

Oh.

Does it really matter? (Laughs)

In China, it seems like all of the
businesses are run on slave labor.

I mean, the people...

The people are starving.

I, uh...

I met a little girl in an opium
den today, and she was...

So many sights, and
you visit an opium den?

Perhaps you enjoy opium? Mmm?

(Chuckles)

No. I never touch the stuff.

But I can see why
your people do.

Your opinions
are so interesting.

But I believe that we know
what is best for our own people.

Chocolate?

No, thank you.

So is it best for children
to be working in squalor?

And it's best for lepers to
be on the street, begging?

That's so interesting.

If not civilized.

Civilized?

Your wife has a
wonderful sense of humor.

She certainly does.

Madame chiang: China
was a great civilization

when your ancestors
were living in trees

and painting themselves blue.

Which ancestors are they?

Apes or gellhorns?

You will have this.

No, I couldn't take it.

I insist.

Well, thank you, it's lovely.

You see, we're
not so uncivilized.

Some balls, gellhorn, telling
off the empress of China

in front of chiang Kai shek.

Oh, you don't think
they'll invite us back?

We'll be lucky if
they don't hang us.

What the hell got into you?

I just keep seeing that
little girl in the opium den.

It upsets me.

They don't take
care of their people.

Ugh! I need some calamine.

My hands, they're just...

You must stop
scratching. It's very bad.

You have the whatchamacallit?

What's whatchamacallit?

China rot.

Too late for calamine.

You need...

You need some of this...

No, no, no. What is that?

Snake urine and
bat whatchamacallit...

(Laughing)

- Come on.
- Yes.

This will work.

Stop scratching. Put this on.

Right away.

Ugh.

There you go.

Ugh!

Now, you need some gloves.

Ah! Here.

These are the best.

Motorman's gloves.

Enjoying your honeymoon?

- Go to hell.
- Already there, dear.

Should we go and scare up
some of that snake hooch?

Yes, sir.

Gellhorn.

Zhou enlai wants to
meet you and Hemingway.

Make sure you're not followed.

Just walk. We'll find you.

But hurry.

You see that woman?

What woman?

Damn it, she disappeared. She...

She said that zhou
enlai wants to meet us.

Who is he again?

Well, he's the big commie that
madame chiang said not to worry about.

Which means she is worried.

Hmm. I like him already.

We'll have to ditch
you know who.

Mr. Ma?

She said to just keep
walking and they will find us.

Quick.

Come.

Please. Get in.

Put these blindfolds on.

Why the hell will we do that?

Zhou has many enemies.

Better you don't know how
to find him. (Speaks mandarin)

Well, this should be fun.

How fast can they
pull these things?

Depends who's chasing them.

(Men grunting)

Hemingway: This is some
fucking honeymoon, gellhorn.

(Speaking mandarin)

(Whispers) Black flag.
What does that mean?

It means there's cholera there.

Cholera?

We're headed ashore.

Martha: A line of men,
like dark, straining statues,

pulled the towrope
with their sampan

and slowly moved the
heavy barge forward.

They chanted to
time their effort.

And the sound came as a rising
and falling wave across the water.

Zhou: You may
remove the blindfolds.

I'm zhou.

Zhou enlai.

The one you're not
supposed to worry about.

Hello, zhou.

- I'm gellhorn.
- Hemingway.

A drink.

To Hemingway and gellhorn.

Oh!

I believe where you come
from, it is called moonshine.

Where I come from,
it's called gasoline.

(Coughs)

(Sighs)

I admired a farewell to arms.

You understand
the real heart of war.

The movie, however...

- You saw the movie?
- Yes.

But I'm sorry.

Helen Hayes was
not Catherine barkley.

Don't blame me. Okay?

When it comes to Hollywood,

I drive to the border, toss
the book over with one hand,

then grab the
cash with the other.

Sounds very glamorous.

Not as glamorous as an
underground communist leader

up against the generalissimo.

Oh, yes.

I live simply

‘cause my people live simply.

Most of us do not
have chocolates.

It's not often chiang
removes his teeth for guests.

You have excellent intelligence.

Ah, gellhorn. I see you have
one of madame's Jade brooches.

Oh, she was very insistent.

Did she mention they are
made by blind children?

The chiangs own the factory.

My wife thinks that madame
had chiang castrated.

Your wife knows a
lot about castration?

Wouldn't surprise me.

(Clears throat) Castration
is an elective at Bryn mawr.

(Chuckles)

My friends in america tell me
you know Eleanor Roosevelt.

Mmm-hmm. Quite well.

Brilliant woman.

Inform her the
generalissimo is the past.

A communist
victory is inevitable.

(Inaudible)

I wish we had more time to talk,

but unfortunately, I have a country I
must defend against the Japanese invaders.

Take care.

So, how do we
get back from here?

Mr. Ma.

So, whose side are you on?

There are no sides.

There's only the
past and the future.

Now, you must wait here.

When it is safe, we
will come to get you.

(Speaking mandarin)

Zhou's a winner,
don't you think?

Oh, he's entrancing.

I mean, he's...

I mean...

Intoxicating.

I mean, if he asked
me to follow him,

I would follow him...

What, you sit here on
our so-called honeymoon

and tell me you want to run
off with zhou fucking enlai?

(Stammers) I
thought you liked him.

I like a lot of guys.

I was just musing.

Musing? A wife doesn't
muse about fucking other men.

Fucking?

Who was ever
talking about fucking?

I'm talking about a charismatic
leader, someone who's intoxicating.

(Scoffs)

Well, why do you have
to make it about fucking?

(Sighs heavily)

Fucking?

I don't want to fuck him.

Ugh.

I'd love to interview the
person who made this stuff.

Oh, little miss human interest.

- (Scoffs)
- Don't you want to be careful,

or you might lose the sweep of
history with all your people stories.

History is people. You
should get out of the bar more.

- I like bars, I met you in one.
- Mmm-hmm.

Well, I like to get
my stories firsthand.

Well, this one you
got on both hands.

(Laughs sarcastically)

Zhou fucking enlai.

Old Martha: It had been
scandalous selfishness on my part.

In that moment, I
wanted to praise him

for his generosity and
letting me drag him to China.

His forbearance for
not murdering me,

even his awful jokes.

I wanted to let him know that
I grieved for his time wasted

on a season in hell.

- (Softly) Thank you...
- Take your filthy hands off me!

You're the biggest asshole!

(Both laughing)

You are!

(Whispers) Where are we?

In a fucking cave.

Somewhere in China.

(Both laughing)

We told Mrs. Roosevelt

all that we had seen, and
she was very sympathetic.

And she encouraged us to speak to
the president and the state department.

We spoke to the
state department.

We said zhou enlai
was the man to watch.

We told them the
communists would win.

(Scoffs) Imagine that.

Communist China.

For that,

we were branded
fellow travelers.

I thought it was funny.

But hem didn't like it.

He didn't want the government
thinking he was a pinko.

I believe it made
him extra patriotic.

Hemingway: Right on target.

(Men cheering)

Old Martha: He stopped writing,

and he spent all of his time
with his cronies on the Pilar,

hunting for u-boats.

(Explosion)

People say that jealousy is
the greatest enemy of love.

They're wrong.

The greatest enemy of love

is boredom.

Colebaugh. It's gellhorn.

I wanted to be where
the real action was.

Why do you think? There's
going to be an invasion in Europe.

I want to cover
it for Collier's.

(Explosion)

That's hem and his
buddies playing war.

They managed to get the Pilar
designated an official q-boat

for destroying
German submarines.

I am not going to write a piece on hem's
hunt for German submarines in the Caribbean.

(Explosion)

Because it's ludicrous.

That's why.

In six months, he hasn't found
so much as a floating sauerbraten.

(Meows)

(Scoffs)

That's a damn cat.

They multiply hourly down here.

(Explosion)

I know how the army feels
about female correspondents,

but, I mean, come on.

I'm battle-tested.

I'm different.

Come on, Charlie.

You got to help me out here.

(Explosion)

But you told me that Collier's
loves my stuff on Finland and China.

You'll get back to me?

(Explosion)

Damn.

(Cat hisses)

- You had their balls cut off?
- I did.

- What the hell is wrong with you?
- What? Me?

- Wait a second. Whose balls got cut off?
- The cats.

She had them de-cojone-d!

No! What'll they do at night?

One thing they're not going
to do is spray my clothes.

Everything I own stinks!

Stinks of cat stink!

You're obsessive, you know that?

You're obsessive
about being filthy!

Yeah, well, men aren't tulips!

Please. A grown man playing war?

Nobody here is playing.

Felipe here can throw a
grenade down the hatch of a sub

the second they open up.

I am performing a service
for my country here!

How patriotic. A nonstop,
rum-running party.

For god's sake, hem.

German submarines in Cuba?

You wouldn't put
that in a bad novel.

What novel are you calling bad?

- Here we go.
- For your information,

not a single u-boat
has made it through.

Fine. Fine.

You keep america
safe for democracy.

I am going.

That woman loves humanity,

but can't stand people!

I always said that, didn't I?

- You did.
- I did.

Gellhorn!

Sidney: Papa, forget about her!

- Gellhorn!
- Papa!

Don't you walk away from me!

You berated me in
front of your friends.

You've become a braggart,
and it's not attractive.

What the hell do
you need from me?

I don't need anything from you!
There's going to be an allied invasion.

- I need to be there.
- Oh, that's right.

Run off whenever
there's a cause.

We have an obligation,
don't we? As writers.

What happened
to your conscience?

You know what? You're
giving it back to me.

I'm so inspired.

I'm going to be
flying over in a week.

I have secured a position.

Well, that's fantastic.

So we're going together.

What?

What?

- What is it?
- Congratulate me, darling.

I'm going to be the
correspondent for Collier's.

For Collier's?

No, come on. This
is a joke. You...

You know they can only
take one correspondent.

It's dog-eat-dog out there.

(Softly) Oh, my god.

You could have signed anywhere.

You took my job.

You took my job at Collier's?

I know. I got some
hefty shoes to fill.

You've done some excellent work.

Are you trying to make it
impossible for me to love you?

Oh, come on, sport. I
could be killed over there.

That'd make you
happy, wouldn't it?

I don't even...

You asshole!

(Sobs) Jesus.

(Laughs)

This is...

(Sighs)

So, how are you flying over?

- Government transport.
- Really? Okay.

Get me a seat on the plane.
It's the least you could do.

No can do.

Men only. Military.

Why?

Hem, why?

(Sighs heavily)

So dos passos was right.

What was that priss
ever right about?

Oh, about you, mostly.

He said you were a
self-serving, selfish bastard.

(Gasps)

(Exhales)

- You didn't need to do that.
- Yes, I did.

You know a hell of a lot,

but what you don't know is
how much I did need to do that.

(Laughs)

You get back here.

Fuck you.

Gellhorn!

Gellhorn!

Oh, god.

Waste of time.

They'll still be reading me long
after you've been eaten by worms!

Fuck you!

Eaten by worms!

Old Martha: There was talk everywhere
that the invasion was going to happen.

And my problem,
with no connections,

(scoffs)

Was how to be there when it did.

Hey, where are you
going? Where you going?

Oh, I'm doing a story
on nurses for Collier's.

Good luck, blondie. Go.

Old Martha: So I stowed away

on a hospital ship.

People will be writing
about this sight for 100 years,

and whoever saw
it will never forget it.

After the first shock of
wonder and admiration,

one began to look around
and see separate details.

A gun flash, a distant war.

Barrage balloons,

like comic toy elephants,
bounced in the high wind.

And invisible planes droned
behind the gray ceiling of cloud.

(Yelling indistinctly)

Martha: Troops were
unloading from big ships.

On the shore, moving up four brown
roads that scarred the hillside are tanks

clanked slowly and
steadily forward.

We waded ashore having agreed
that we would assemble the wounded.

Everyone was violently busy on
that crowded, dangerous shore.

The dust that Rose seemed
like the fog of war itself.

There was the terrible
feeling of working against time.

There were wounded who
groaned in their sleep or called out.

(Telegraph beeping)

"And there was the soft steady hum
of conversation among the wounded

"who could not sleep.

"Stop.

"It was a ship
carrying a load of pain.

"But we were together.

"And we counted on each other.

"Stop."

Ernest, are you all right?

Yeah, of course I'm okay.

- What did you say your name was again?
- (Laughys)

Mary.

Mary Welsh.

I can tell you're
my kind of girl.

What kind of girl is that?

The kind that
takes care of a man.

Looks after him.

Keeps him going.

I like that.

I could do that.

Yeah?

(Singing in Italian)

(Both laughing)

(Continues singing in Italian)

That's lovely.

It's Italian, isn't it?

(Continues singing in Italian)

(Humming along)

(Both singing loudly in Italian)

(Screams)

- (Crashing) (Glass shatters)

Man: Mrs. Hemingway!

Mrs. Hemingway?

Mrs. Hemingway!

Are you Mrs. Ernest Hemingway?

Why?

(Hemingway laughing)

And that, children, is the best way
to handle a knife-wielding Chinese!

Ernest is a great storyteller.

Oh, my god. It's the Marty.

First journalist on the
beach at normandy.

(Quietly) Though she's
not really accredited.

(Scoffs)

No home and hearth for my wife.

She'd rather be married to
war, isn't that right, intrepid?

I heard you had an accident.

A scratch.

Obviously hasn't
affected your personality.

Unless you came to
gloat, why did you come?

(Whispers) I don't know.

(Sighs)

I guess...

Guess I just came
by for a divorce.

Marty.

- Papa, what are you doing?
- Marty!

Look what that bitch
has done to him.

Marty!

(Grunts)

Gellhorn!

(Breathing heavily)

Sir, you're bleeding.

Gellhorn!

Marty, it's me.

Martha: Go away.

Marty, open the door.

No, I'm not letting you in.

You're plastered. Go away.

Marty!

I told you I want a divorce.

Open up, Mrs. Hemingway.

Mr. Hemingway loves you.

(Door unlocking)

Oh, my god. Look at you.

You're the queen of heaven.

It's too late.

No.

Marty.

Give me a chance.

(Sighs deeply)

I deserve a chance.

Come on.

If we get divorced in Cuba,
then we don't have to wait.

Always up on the local customs.

Fucking journalist.

Fucking bitch!

I gave you everything!

Gellhorn!

I made you!

- I made youl!
- (Pounds on door)

(Sobs)

It's over. It's enough!

(Whispers) Go away.

Please go away.

Bitch.

(Sighs)

God.

Old Martha: We were good in war.

And when there was no war,

we made our own.

The battlefield neither of us
could survive was domestic life.

Martha: I try not
to think about him

since I fear I cannot think
about him with kindness,

but only with dread.

God, how I hope the problems
of my own tiny life don't

blind me to everything.

Old Martha: There were two things
that most affected my view of the world.

One.

One was the defeat of Spain.

And the other...

...was Dachau.

Old Martha: And Dachau was
minor compared to Auschwitz.

It was an unbelievable horror.

A thing so horrendous that
you could not take it all in

without becoming frenzied
and hysterical and mad.

(Panting)

I fled.

(Gasping)

I spent the night weeping,

and I think I lost faith in this
whole wretched human race.

(Weeping)

- Feels like a big one.
- (Grunts)

Sidney: What are
you doing, papa?

Papa?

Papa!

Papa!

Pull it in, papa!

Papa!

Papa! Papa!

(Camera clicking)

(Electricity buzzing)

(Mary singing in Italian)

Do you remember that song?
The song we used to sing?

It just came to me.

Aren't you glad I moved us
out here, away from those bars?

When I think of how
you used to carry on...

There you go.

(Continues singing in Italian)

(Gasps)

(Hums)

You need your peace and quiet.

We need to focus on
keeping papa healthy.

(Singing in Italian)

Hemingway: Writing,
at its best, is a lonely life.

As a writer grows
in public stature,

he sheds his loneliness,

and often his work deteriorates,

(red river valley playing)

For he does his work alone.

And if he's a good
enough writer,

he must face eternity,
or the lack of it,

each day.

(Mary humming)

(Rifle fires)

Interviewer: Miss gellhorn?

You are considered to be one of the
greatest war correspondents of all time.

For the past 45 years, you've
covered conflicts everywhere.

Burma, Singapore, The
Middle East, Central America,

Vietnam, Africa,
Bosnia, on and on.

And for a woman to
have done all this...

Were you trying to
put yourself in danger?

I don't have those complexes.

That's something men do.

Yes. Men.

Well, since you mentioned men...

Well, we're both journalists,
I'm sure you'll understand.

Our viewers would like to know more
about your relationship with the man

who was most
synonymous with masculinity.

No.

Something about your debt?

My debt?

Your debt to Hemingway?

Hmm...

(Clears throat)

The man has been
dead for 30 years.

He tortured no one so
much as he tortured himself.

I wish him peace.

That's all I have to
say on the subject.

I do not see myself as a
footnote to someone else's life.

Turn it off.

We're done.

Thank you, miss
gellhorn, for your time.

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

(Sighs)

Hemingway: My dearest Marty,

one thing you must know,

love is infinitely more
durable than hate.

(Typing)

(Inaudible)

God damn it.

(Dialing)

It's gellhorn.

I've decided to go after all.

Why? Because, as usual,
the times got it wrong again.

Mmm-hmm.

All that drivel, all that
goddamn objectivity shit.

I'm going to be
on the next plane.

No. Well, god damn it,
I'll pay on my own dime.

I can't wait for you
to grow a pair of balls.

You relax.

No.

Oh, don't worry about me.

(Chuckles)

I love you, too.

I'm not dead yet, you fuck.

(Cawing)

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

(Instrumental music playing)