All language subtitles for Poulet.Aux.Prunes.2011.L1.BDRip.720p-English

Subtitles by Maja downloaded from www.OpenSubtitles.org

ZURICH Filmcoopi

CHICKEN WITH PLUMS

Yeki bud, yeki nabud.

One Was There And One Was Not There.

Persian fairy tales start with this.

Yeki bud, yeki nabud.

In the fall of 1958,

I was in Tehran in transit.

There I met a certain Nasser Ali
of which I want to tell.

- I will take this one.
- Excellent choice.

Irane?

Yes?

Do not you remember me?

I'm sorry.

Honestly, not at all.

- Again ripped off.
- But ...

- Terrible sound!
- You liked it.

- Shut up.
- Here.

Take this one. A rarity.
I'll trade it.

Pathetic crook.
Give me my money back.

After I dealt with some matters,
I went to the famous Cafe Naderi.

With Nasser Ali Abdi sat his brother,
a Communist

and ranted as usual against the English
Americans.

These idiots have everything.

French coffee, please.

They think they pump our oil.
In truth, they suck the blood out of us.

Am I boring you?

No, no.

My violin was ruined.

By whom?

What has that got to do with this?

Mirza is selling wonderful instruments.

The crook wanted to take me for a ride.
His violins are miserable.

Like father, like son. Bastards.

It's over.

I can never play again.

Wait a minute. Last month I was
at a friend in Rasht.

Do you know what he has?

Look at this Stradivarius.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart head her.

I'm going to Rasht.

I'll get me a violin.

Did you hear me?

I'm not deaf,

like your mother.

Leave the dead alone.

If you want to.

But you forget that I work.

Who will take care of him?

I do not know.
Ask your mother.

You know that she is not home.

If you want to Rasht, take with him.

It's not possible.

And it is not

my problem. Could you...

What? If my husband would work,

I could stay home and take care
of my son like a lady!

It's your fault!

- It's always my fault!
- Sure it's your fault!

- You suck!
- Bitch!

Jerk!

I go alone, do you hear?

They say it is a donkey,

But I know it is a horse.

It has a stain on the forehead.

It gallops and carries me on his back.

It smiles and complains.

They say it is a donkey,
But ...

I know ...

It carries me on his back,

I will not go to sleep and you,

And you ..

My beloved horse,
I carry you in my heart

I feel good on your back,
I will never go to sleep ...

Goodbye my friends,

See you!

Excuse me, where can I find Mr. Houshang?

You go straight ahead.

Then turn left,

right,

and right again.
- Well, thank you.

Shit.

What are you doing? Come.

Excuse me,

is anyone there?

Mr. Houshang?

Who is asking?

Nasser Ali Khan, the brother of Abdi.

I've been expecting you.

- Good day, monsieur.
- No, not "Monsieur."

Call me Houshang.

Welcome to my humble shop.

I adore you. I adore you. I love you.

- There is love, love.
- You are selling a Stradivarius?

Among other things.

- Cigarette?
- No thanks, not now.

I deal with precious stones.

Pull that out.

Look here.

The largest diamond in the world.

Fabulous, right?

In my shop, there is everything.

Safran,

Opium,

Fur Coats

or ...

a magic wand.

- Would you like a cup of tea?
- No, thank you.

- When do we go to the bus?
- We have to go to the bus.

I traveled a long way
because of this violin.

I'm thirsty.

I don't want to push,
But I could see her?

But of course, my friend.

- Dad, I'm thirsty.
- In a minute.

First, taste this opium.

Relax!

Yes, I've needed it, especially since
the child sung during the whole trip.

I have the solution.

Dissolved in milk.

My grandmother gave me that,
when I was overexcited.

And here is ...

the wonder of all wonders.

I remember when I heard you
play for the first time.

I had never before

heard anything so beautiful, really.

The thought alone brings
tears to my eyes.

See how I cry?
Here.

- You see?
- Yes, I see it.

I will not sell this miracle to you.

I'll give it to you.

For 1000 toman.

1000 toman?

I paid 1049 toman, 49 I'll give you.

And why am I doing this?

Because you are my friend.

Because you are you.

I've only got 700...

700, agreed.

That is clear.

What I would not do for the masters!

We have to celebrate!

'Heaven’s wheel gained nothing from my coming,

Nor did my going augment its dignity,

Nor did my ears hear from anyone

Why I had to come and why I went'.

They came home the next night.

Nasser Ali wanted only one thing,
to play on his new violin.

But he waited.

He got up at seven.

He went to the barber.

Finish.

At home he put on his best suit.

You'd think you have an appointment
with the Prime Minister.

His wife and daughter were gone.
But one thing he still

had to do.

Good morning, Cyrus.

Do you have opium?

Since no violin gave him any pleasure,

Nasser Ali decided to die.

Eight days later, November 22nd,
he was buried beside his mother.

All those who had loved him were there.

THE FIRST DAY

Nasser Ali had therefore
decided to die.

He wondered what possibilities there were.

First, he considered a radical method.

Then he thought of a romantic approach.

And why is nothing more classic?

But all of these possibilities
were painful.

He remembered having read that
the least painful method is

to take sleeping pills and
to pull a plastic bag over ones head.

But the thought that he was to be
found with an ordinary plastic bag

was simply unimaginable.
He was, after all,

Nasser Ali Khan,
the best violinist of his time.

Should he be remembered as
"the man with the plastic bag"?

No, no, no.

He wanted to die with dignity.

He will wait for death in bed.

- Mom, can I play on the swing?
- No, first do the homework.

Cyrus?

Nasser Ali?

What are you doing in bed at this hour?

- I have decided to die.
- And where is Cyrus?

- At the neighbor.
- Again?

Is it asking too much,
that you take care of your son?

I'll be right back. I'll go and
look for your brother. Do your homework.

Yes, Mom.

Dad?

It's you, little one.

- Are you sick?
- No.

Dad is just a bit tired.

And how was your day?

- I got a six in dictation.
- Good!

Mama is not happy.

She says this is not good enough.

She says she has a student
that gets sixes all the time.

Your mother talks too much.

She says if I want to be a doctor,
I have a learn a lot

and also have sixes.

Yes, sure.

Can I go play on the swing now?

Yes, go.

Thank you, Dad.

Who are you?

Although to Nasser Ali
fatherhood didn't come naturally,

he tried as best as he could,
to play his role as father.

... and my sharp teeth!

But why?

Dad? Do I get a talking doll?

They do not speak.

Yes they do, they talk.

Come on, I'll show you.

Come on, I'll eat you!

You see, they are just fabric.

Do not eat him!

Children, what should I do?

Eat him! Eat him!

Want to ride the carousel?

No.

- Want a cotton candy?
- No.

Want to play there?

No.

What do you want?

Since Nasser Ali is very

interested in morphopsychology

and his daughter resembled him,
he was sure of their kinship.

He was not wrong.
Both were intelligent,

bright, witty

and hopelessly melancholy.

At 23, Lili married
at the request of her mother.

The marriage ended in
divorced after eight months.

The gossip didn't mean anything to Lili.

After some time
she experienced true passion.

He was an actor.

Unfortunately, her lover died
four years later in an accident.

Lili could never get over it.

She numbed her pain with games,
alcohol and cigarettes.

She suffered from two heart attacks.

When they said she gambles with
her live, she said ...

Life ... If you only knew
what I think about it.

Her third heart attack hit the mark.

That's not possible.

What are you doing?

- Dad said ...
- What?

THE SECOND DAY

Faranguisse?

Since when?

Wait for me. I'm coming.

Yes, good.

- I must go and see my brother.
- Something bad?

I do not know.

He is not leaving his room for two days.

- What did Faranguisse say?
- Nothing.

They have fought and now he's mad.

- But what will you do?
- She is a stupid cow.

Abdi, don't talk like that.

Do you think it's easy with a man
who puts music over everything?

Nevertheless, she is a bit dim.

She is stupid and mean as a
biting dog. This woman is torture.

And who's to blame? Your mother
has pushed him to the marriage.

It was clear that he wasn't
in love with Faranguisse.

That woman is Genghis Khan.

I certainly was against this marriage.

He deserves someone better.

THE WOMAN FROM THE RIVER

The brothers protected themselves, although
as children they were very different.

Abdi was conscientious and serious,
Nasser Ali defiant and reckless.

Abdi was the pride of his parents,
Nasser Ali brought them despair.

- What have you done again?
- I did not do anything, sir.

Look at the fool. This pest.

He has repeated class with his
poor grades. Unacceptable behavior.

Yes, Nasser Ali couldn't
think of anything better

than to break the glass!
- I didn't.

Shut up!

Abdi,

Come here, my child.

Look at me.

Abdi's his little brother.

Same family, same education,

only that he is the best

in all subjects.

You can see,

the pest ...

Valuable. Valuable ...

Pest.

Applause for Abdi.

Come on, kids!

Stop!

That is enough.

Now ...

Boos for Nasser Ali.

Speak up!

Nasser Ali?

It's me. Abdi.

May I come in?

I was close and thought
I come over and see my brother.

So, now you see me.

What's up?

Nothing.

I've decided to die.

On the way

I've seen that a new movie is playing
in "Persepolis".

Do you know with whom?

Watch out.

And?

Greta Garbo?

No!

Sophia Loren?

Do you remember how beautiful she
was in this film, in Naples?

Would you like to go to the movies?

No. As I said, I will die.

Your wife called me.
She is very worried.

It was pretty clear
that you're not here by chance.

That is not important.

What does it matter?

I am here because of you.
I am your brother.

You can't stay in bed and
wait for death. This is ridiculous.

Well, you're depressed about the violin,
but you have a wife

and two children to whom
you are responsible.

Don't be so selfish.

Selfish?

You have just said that?

Have you thought about your wife,
your children, your family

when you decided to
become a communist,

because they have suffered,
when you were in prison?

No, you were the big
avenger, resistance fighter,

Mr. Do-gooder. Too bad for the others.

Someone had to do it.

If everyone were like you.

What then? Do you think
then everything would be worse?

What have you changed?
Do you thins it's really better today?

Also, remember.

When you played the hero, the
family fortune was given for your freedom.

So go with

your moral preachings elsewhere.

Forgive me, Abdi.

It's all right.

Will you promise me that you take care
for my children after my death?

Stop it.

Don't talk nonsense.

I promise you.

Vieni piccolo.

At dawn on the second day,
Ali Nasser remembered

forgotten pleasures.

For one night his bitterness flew away.
He was sleeping calmly.

THE THIRD DAY

On the third day, was Nasser Ali
He bwas bored out of his mind.

As everyone knows,
the idle mind

is the devils playground.
Between two cigarettes he asked himself,

how we would like to be remembered,
what he would leave the world ...

He thought of Socrates,
of a philosophical genius,

who managed to leave this world
elegant and courageous.

But Socrates,
why have thou drank this poison?

- Don't leave us.
- What does it matter?

Beyond this physical shell
my thoughts will last.

Only after my death
they will be immortal.

Nasser Ali called his children
to give them his last thoughts.

Children!

Children!

Children!

Children, I know, I was often absent.

Now my time has come.

I must go.

We will soon part.

It is my duty as a father, you

to give you a treasure
that will accompany you through your life

and will guide you through the
darkness of life.

And this treasure

is the essence of creation.

Because through art we understand
life and through life ...

What does it matter?

Beyond this physical shell
my thoughts will last.

Only after my death ...

Nasser Ali thought how insignificant
one is. Socrates had got off very well.

- Give us a hug!
- No, you stink.

What was to be expected from such a son?

He was just

the opposite of him:
Loud, talkative and had a sweet tooth.

To make matters worse, after being asked
he answered what he would like to be...

I want to be grocer.

What will become of him?

It was no surprise.

At 22 after difficultiesin school,
Cyrus went to the university, to study economics.

His joy was short-lived.
The revolution broke out.

A year later war started.

Like many others, Cyrus went to the USA.

He enrolled in a mediocre University in Wyoming.

On the campus of the university,
he met Nancy.

They kissed, she became pregnant
and they married.

Hi! I'm home!

Hi, Daddy!

Cyrus, darling, want a drink?

You got it, sweetheart!

Daddy, look at my nails!

Aren't they gorgeus?

Isn't that just great!

Isn't that just great!

Hey daddy, we've got a surprise for you.

Check this out.

Great!
- That's pretty amazing!

What's wrong?

What's wrong, sweetie?

Oh, have a belly ache.
I feel sick.

What did you eat, darling?

Nothing. Just a couple of pizzas.

No. No, pizzas!

Please help me!
- Cyrus,

we have to call 911!

Right away.

Darling, it's gonna be ok.

It's gonna be ok, honey.

Doctor ...
- Is she going to be ok?

We are their parents,
we have the right to know!

Everything went perfectly well.

Oh, my God!

It's a boy.

What... boy?

4 kilos. A beautiful baby.

A baby?

A baby?

Yes, a baby.

How is it possible that your niece
did not know that she is pregnant?

Try to find a 4 kg baby in 100 kg.
That's not easy.

His middle name is also "Nasser".

"Jimmy Nasser." Imagine that.

Fortunately, my father is long dead or
he would surely get an aneurysm.

Or even two.

THE FOURTH DAY

On the evening of the fourth day
Faranguisse didn't know what to do.

In the hope of reconciliation she decided
to prepare chicken with plums,

Nasser Ali's favorite dish,
to get to his heart

through his belly.

She saw her husband happy only
during meals.

Sometimes there was also a kind word.

This is the best chicken with plums
I have ever eaten.

Contrary to all appearances,
Faranguisse still loved Nasser Ali.

Hardly anyone knows that she loved
him secretly since her childhood.

As he travelled for years around the world,
she waited patiently for his return.

She studied hard and rejected the few
marriage proposals she got.

MATHEMATICS ALL LEVELS

- Nasser Ali is back.
- Nasser Ali?

Nasser Ali is back.

She waited long,
but before she was a spinster,

Nasser Ali came back to Tehran.

Nasser Ali is back.

At that time she was 30, he was 41.

Good day, Faranguisse.

Good day.

You know that Faranguisse is
a mathematics teacher.

I find that admirable.
This country needs women like you.

Modern women.

Ali Nasser, try the pastry.

Faranguisse has brought it.

How tasty. It looks delicious, right?

Yes, very tasty.

You were best in class, Faranguisse?

- Yes, she was best in class.
- No, no, only second best.

- Now you're a teacher?
- Yes.

Fantastic. An intelligent,
respectable woman of character,

with healthy common sense ...
- Very healthy.

I'll go get some water melon.

Nasser Ali, would you help me?

But, Mom, I do not love this woman.

I think that this woman, as you say,
is really good.

She's pretty, nice, educated ...

- And single.
- What are you doing here?

I let the women talk in peace.

Listen, my little one.

You are 41. You have traveled the world.

You do not want to be an old bachelor.

You are not listening. I do not love her.

And for good reason.

That's not bad.

Marry first, love comes later.

They were married.

But love never came.

Nasser Ali?

It's me.

I made you chicken with plums.

It's your favorite dish.

You must be hungry, my darling.

You have not eaten for three days.

- Do you want ..?
- No. I'm not hungry.

I'll put it here.
If you do you change your mind.

You do not understand.

I can't taste anything anymore,

nothing sweet, nothing spiced.

And only you're to blame.

There's one thing you should do,

take your son to a doctor.
You can't even do that!

For God's sake!
I'm tired of doing everything!

I'm washing, ironing, cooking
and also have to go to work.

As man you have to provide for your family.

You married a musician, not a worker.

Did you know that I am an artist.

Artist. Yes, great!

You couldn't even keep the position in the Conservatory.

How petty can you be,

little crappy teacher.

I'll never forgive you.

I'll never forgive you.

Sorry, honey.

You know how much I love you.
Ali Nasser, please tell me

that you love me too.

Nasser Ali,

the violin can not destroy everything.

What are you talking about, the violin!

I've never loved you.
Never, get that in your little

head. Never!

You're a monster.

I hate you.

Let's get back to Nasser Alis childhood.

From an early age he was only
interested in music.

At 21, his mother sent him to Shiraz.

There he studied violin at the best
masters of his time, Ara Mozafar.

Sometimes the master unsettled him,

when he expressed himself terribly obscure.

I have nothing to say to your technique.
It's excellent.

But your music makes me absolutely sick.

Master ...

Every nitwit can learn.

It's not about technique.
It's about art.

For through art we understand life.

The instrument is only a channel
to let the light out.

Your fingers are moving.

Sounds come out.

But they are empty.

It is nothing.

It is nothing!

Life is a breath.

Life is a sigh.

And you have to take that sigh.

Dad, I need a new dress.

Irane, you got a new one last week.

That was different.

I need an evening dress
for Malaks birthday.

What will people think?

Well ...

Thank you, Dad. Thank you.

Until tonight.

Bravo, sir.

Excellent choice.
Swiss quality,

Dial in solid gold
incredible precise mechanics,

crystal-clear sound.

And all for ridiculous 100 toman.

Yes, yes, wonderful.

Good buy.
I'll wrap it for you immediately.

Nasser Ali's fate turned.

He had to see the beautiful Irane again.

- No!
- I only came

to say that it is working.

Mademoiselle? Irane?

Do we know each other?

Yes.

No. I came to the shop

of your father and wanted to ask you...

You wanted to ask me ...

THE FIFTH DAY

Weakened, at dawn on the fifth day
Nasser Ali felt the approach of death.

Soon he would follow all those
who had gone before him.

He remembered his mother
in the last days before her death.

Nasser Ali?

Is it you?

Oh, no.

- Are you okay, Mom?
- I am not well.

I am angry, very angry even.

- But ...
- Still, you naughty boy.

You think only of yourself again.

But yes.

I am suffering so much.

My hour has come, my little one.

And what are you doing?

You pray and pray.

- Your prayers keep me from dying.
- But, Mom ...

I know you love me.

And that you want to keep me with you.

But I'll tell you again.
Life's become unbearable.

Cry no more for me to the good Lord.
Stop it, right now.

Do you understand me?

Give me a cigarette.

I don't know, in your condition ...

In my condition

only a cigarette can comfort me.

You know,

I've often said,

Smoke nourishes the soul.

Also, I've seen him.

Whom?

Well, Azrael.

- The Angel of Death.
- Yes, of course.

- Nasser Ali ...
- Yes, Mama?

Go into the garden.

Play for me.

Your music is so beautiful.

At her funeral an unusual phenomenon occured.

Directly after the funeral,
a dense cloud of smoke appeared over her grave.

Everyone had an explanation.

These are all the cigarettes she smoked.

Three packs a day. Think about it.

Sure. She has done it to herself.

Oh no. I am a surveyor.
The soil is calcareous.

This makes the water condensate.

Ah yes, of course.

What fools.

This smoke only proves that the soul exists.

Your mother's was so dense

so powerful ...

that she

materialized before our eyes.
- Yes, definitely.

You do't believe me.

- You should though.
- Yes.

You think I'm a crackpot.

- But I know a lot about you.
- Really.

They were on born on March 10th, 1908.

Yeah, right.

You lost her father when you were 12.

At 21 you went to Shiraz to study music.

Ah, Shiraz.

And there ...

your heart was broken.

You think all the time about her.

Right?

Do you see now?

You doubt.

Her heart was so broken that it fossilized.

You are not leting the breath
of life inside anymore.

A mistake.

You have renounced life.

There is nothing worse for
a man than to give up his live.

Nothing!

You know what Hafez says:

I batter the wheel of heaven

When it rolls not rightly by...

It was good that you no longer
have prayed for your mom.

Her hour had come.

Nasser Ali was suspicious.

For five days he wished for death to come,
but death seemed to spare him.

He wondered whether someone was praying for him.

Yes, Ali Nasser, someone is praying for you.

THE SIXTH DAY

During the sixth day me, Azrael, Angel of Death,

decided to finally meet Nasser Ali.

Good day, Nasser Ali. Finally awake.

It's okay!

You won. I surrender.

My children, forgive me.
Faranguisse, all! Lord!

I ask for mercy.

Come on, Azrael! Let's end this!
Do what you have to do.

I'm ready now.

You should not get so upset.
Otherwise you will get hurt even more.

Sit down, my good man. Come.

Cigarette?

Am I next?
It's happening, right?

No, not really.
I mean, not right away.

Why not right now?

What are you doing here?

I wanted to meet you.

You are calling me for a week, so I passed by.

I thought, one who sees you dies immediately.

Here you are?
No, this is true only for those who die of natural causes.

For suicides

is it something else.

Interesting.

There are no strict rules.
There are exceptions.

Sometimes I meet people by chance.

Randomly.

Since I have some time, I'll tell you a little story.

Long ago I should have taken te life of
a Monsieur Ashour in front of

the Taj Mahal in India.

The day before, I met him by chance
at a market in Jerusalem.

- How much are the tomatoes?
- 100 dinars.

- Too much.
- 50 dinars.

- 20
- 30

- 2 dinars.
- Mr. Ashour! What are you doing here?

He was so scared that he fled screaming
to the palace of King Sotlomon

an demanded an audience.

- Solomon!
- Yes?

Oh, Solomon, Solomon.

Yes?

Oh, my king!

What can I do for you?

I've met Azrael.
He gave me an spine-chilling look. He will take me.

I'm going to die.
I have to leave Jerusalem, immediately.

But Mr. Ashour, where would you go?

You can not escape the Angel of Death.

I don't know, I have to go as far as possible. To India!

If this is your desire...

The kind Solomon asked the wind to get
Ashour to the desired location,

to Taj Mahal in India.

There you are, just in time.

Dear Azrael, only one question,
then take my life.

- Promise.
- Well, Mr. Ashour, ask.

If you will take me today,
why were you looking at me so angry in Jerusalem?

You are mistaken. I was not angry.

Today I will take your life in India,

and yesterday I met you by chance
on the market in Jerusalem.

I was astonished.

I wondered, how will you manage
the long journey in one day.

I see.

Then he was dead?

Well, his hour had come.

- And when is my turn?
- I do not know.

I do not decide.

Azrael?

Is it a bit late to backpedal?

It is not "a bit late,"
dear friend,

it is too late.

Oh, you,

four and seven, randomly combined.

You, whether seven or four,
they will cause you, drink.

I've told you, and much more often
than you deserve,

that it is a journey of no return.
Who goes, who goes forever.

Too bad, Nasser Ali.

You had only this life.

He is not well. Something has to be done

THE SEVENTH DAY

Everything will be fine. Don't worry.

Nasser Ali!

He has a fever.

And?

In its condition, the injection is only a stopgap measure.

Can you do anything else?

If someone has decided to die ...

- Do you think dad will die?
- Yes.

Nasser Ali?

It's all my fault.

Forgive me.

Miss ...

Irane?

Do we know each other?

THE EIGHTH DAY

THE EIGHTH DAY

No. I saw you in your fathers store

and wanted to ask you ...

You wanted to ask me ...

If I may accompany you.

I mean, if I may go along wit you a little.

Yes.

I'll prove the depth of my love.

You can return to your world ...

Irane,

will you marry me?

But of course, my dear.

This is my biggest wish.

Tomorrow I'll go to your father.

Nasser Ali, I am so happy.

This is the happiest day of my life.

Dad ...

Irane, leave us alone.

- But, Dad ...
- Please go

How dare you come to me and ask for the hand of my daughter?

- But, sir ...
- I was not born yesterday.

I understand passion, it comes as soon as it goes.

The reality is quite different.

You are a musician. You have no money.

How will you provide for my daughter?

I'm going to work and earn money.

How? With what kind of work?

When did an artist ever earned a decent living?

- I love her.
- Then prove it

by disappearing from her life.

You will not ruin her future.

You are still young.

As time passes, you will forget her.

And she will also forget you.

If I can promise you one thing,

it is that I will never forget your daughter.

How could you do this to me?

I love him.

You're here!

You came.

I came to say goodbye

and to see you one last time.

Don't make it even harder for me.

I can not do this to my father.

It would kill him.

From now on, you're a great musician.

Finally

you have succeeded to capture the sigh.

Her father does not want that I marry her.

I will never see hr again.

What a fool.

Come on, come with me.

This violin belonged to my teacher.
He gave it to me.

Now it's yours.

You know, my child,

from now on, the one you lost, will be in very note you play.

She's your breath and your sigh.

This love is precious because it is eternal.

And I know what I'm talking about.

Go now.

I have nothing to teach you anymore.

From then on, Nasser Ali traveled the world for 20 years

and like his teacher had predicted,

whenever he played, Irane was there,
in every note, every chord.

Irane?

Yes?

Do not you remember me?

I'm sorry. To be honest ...

not at all.

- Grandma! Can we go?
- Yes.

- I'm tired.
- We are going, honey.

Excuse me please.
I must have been wrong.

It's ok.

Goodbye.

Nasser Ali.

Beloved!

Irane ...