Elisa, My Life (1977) - full transcript

ELISA, MY LOVE

I hadn't seen my
father for years,

nor had I really
missed him.

I almost never
wrote him...

just a few postcards
to say I was fine,

and that Antonio and
I sent our love.

I didn't want
to see him sick,

struggling to recover
from a recent operation.

At the time, my marriage
was in crisis...

Well, one of a
series of crises.

When I got my
sister's telegram,



telling me of
his illness,

and then an anxious call
from my family

that revealed how
serious it was,

I decided to go to Madrid.

Selfishly speaking,

finally I had an excuse
to get away from home

and calmly reflect upon
my own situation.

As I got further away
from Antonio,

I realized
I couldn't go back

to the man with whom
I'd spent 7 years.

I left, I now realize,
knowing I'd never return.

A very cozy pIace
to Iive.

You can't imagine
the winter.

Remember Iast Christmas,
JuIian?



We froze to death.

It's unbearabIe.

-Even with the heater on.
-Mom, he's not here.

-What do you mean?
-No!

How strange.

One day he'II give us
a reaI fright.

Dad?

At Ieast he's not iII.

-IsabeI?
-Yes.

Look.
Over here.

This was here.

''Be right back''.

Thank God.

I was worried...

He's so isoIated here.

Not even a phone.

What if he get's sick?
You know what he says?

Better to die aIone
than in bad company.

Where's the oId man?

You couId show
a IittIe respect.

The ''oId man'' Ieft a note.
I was worried.

There's nothing
to worry about.

-Where do I put this?
-In the kitchen,

where eIse?

I'm tired.

Put it in the fridge.

No, in the freezer.

Or it won't be coId.

I can see why he never
Iocks the door.

Nothing to steaI.

IsabeI.

Can't you ever reIax?

Can't you heIp?

See if there are any
more dirty dishes.

No.

Can't you Ieave her aIone?

Stop washing things
for once.

It's easy for us.
We can surprise him.

Do what you want.
I need some fresh air.

Come on, heIp me!

Jacobo!
Arantxa!

Daddy!
Come and pIay!

My fatigue is that of someone...

My fatigue is that of
someone going nowhere.

But where was I going?

What was my goal?

Maybe it was all
just an illusion.

I can't say
I've been deceived,

because I was party
to the deception.

Only now do I realize

that the things
I've learned,

although mostly
worthless,

but which gave
my life meaning...

I've reached
the point...

where they are no
longer of use to me.

Now this man I see
in the mirror

wants to begin
a new life,

without rejecting
his past.

This man has nothing.

Neither youth
nor physical charm,

nor does he feel that
he's found truth,

but simply believes
that life itself

is it's own reward.

This man hasn't even
the confidence

to partake of those joys
said to come with maturity.

This man, stumbling
awkwardly along his path,

has resigned himself

to begin a new life.

And the only

obstacle in his path

is the fear

that it's already
too late.

-Look...
-Grandpa!

What a surprise!
Hi Arantxita!

Jacobo!

-Hi, Luis. How are you?
-Hi, Dad!

We brought a surprise.

-Hi.
-Hi!

Remember the song?
One, two, three...

Grandpa...

-What do you say?
-Happy birthday!

-Hi.
-Happy birthday.

-I'm stuck!
-Yes, you are!

Very good, very good.

-Did we surprise you?
-Did you ever!

Pass me that bread?

Did you see that?

Let's have a toast.

To Luis, and many
happy years to come.

Thank you.

-Happy birthday.
-Thanks.

-Happy birthday.
-Thanks.

-Happy birthday.
-Thank you, EIisa.

-Good champagne...
-It's great.

-May we be excused?
-Go ahead.

Go outside and pIay.

-Can I ride the bike?
-Sure.

-Stay in the yard.
-Why?

Because!

Don't Iaugh. ChiIdren
need discipIine.

Because!

When they grow up...

No, no, no.
It's your birthday.

We'II wash up.

Have a seat, JuIian.

-More?
-Yes, pIease.

It's a speciaI day.

What a great meaI.

There's nothing Iike

a good impromptu Iunch.

-And the pat?...
-DeIicious.

From Strasburg.

It's superb.

But the fresh pat?
in Paris...

Perigord.

Cigarette?

-No, no. I gave it up.
-StiII?

I reaIIy don't know why.

Here.

Who gets to serve
the coffee?

-Remember?
-Yes.

No, Iet me.

When we were IittIe

we fought over who
poured the coffee.

Cheater.

You aIways Ioved coffee.

Your mother used to
put it in your miIk.

Sugar?

-No, thanks.
-I Iove coffee.

CouId I...?

I just Iove coffee.

-I couId drink it aII day.
-Want some?

That's why you
toss and turn.

Last night you
wouIdn't shut up.

She aIso taIks.

-ReaIIy?
-What did I say?

I don't know,
but you had fun!

You were Iaughing.

Thank God.

I aIways have
the same dream.

What is it?

WeII...

I dream...

we're back in Madrid,
in Mom's house...

weII, in Mom
and Dad's house,

and nothing has changed.

The same paintings,
the same tabIe,

the same waInut
sideboard...

and on the sideboard,

the siIver tray,

with the siIver tea set.

It was aIways there...

It's a very bright day,

and the Iight comes through
the window in such a way...

I can't expIain it.

It's aImost bIinding...

refIecting off aII
the siIver.

Then I get this
strange feeIing...

I can't describe it...

It's as if everything
were aIive.

I don't know...

The teapot,

and the cups...

they begin to shake...

to quiver.
But not exactly, no...

it's... I can't
explain it, but...

we're... all sitting
around the table.

Dad, Mom, and I...

-What about me?
-You're there, too.

Mom and Dad are
all dressed up.

Dad's wearing a suit

and a tie.

Mom...

Mom's wearing one of
her Liberty dresses.

And you...

I can't remember.

We've just eaten.

Suddenly I look up,

and the chandelier

also starts

to tremble, to vibrate

ever so slightly...

Everything is shaking,
and quivering...

It must have been
an earthquake.

I was in one once, and
I remember aII the furniture

and aII the dishes
shook Iike crazy.

The paintings feII
off the waIIs.

It wasn't Iike that.

It's hard to expIain.

It's as if everything...

were throbbing...
I can't say.

-What happens then?
-Nothing. I wake up.

The tea set wasn't siIver.

Wasn't it?

It was porceIain with
bIue fIowers. Remember?

I vagueIy remember.
Wasn't it bIue?

Dad!

It was white porceIain...

-with an ovaI mirror...
-That's it.

The chandeIier had
those funny arms...

and tiny prisms
hanging from it.

What were they caIIed?

-Spiders.
-Spiders.

Your mother insisted
on hanging that thing.

It was a wedding gift
I aIways hated.

I Iiked it.

IsabeI, we shouIdn't
stay too Iate.

WeII... whenever you
think we shouId go.

In a IittIe whiIe.
HaIf an hour.

I have a big day
tomorrow.

A big case.

I'm totaIIy swamped.

Dad, where's the photo
aIbum I gave you?

In my workroom.

-Can I get it?
-Sure.

It's with my fiIes

on the Ieft.

-Are you coming?
-Yes.

What's this
important case?

It's worth a fortune.

Expropriated Iand,

tax evasion.

We'II uncover
quite a scandaI.

It's time the Iaw

be appIied to everyone.

You beIieve in those Iaws.
I don't.

You avoid reaIity.

Whose reaIity? Yours?
Your wife's? Or mine?

That's not what I mean.

The reaIity of society,
formed by individuaIs

who accept the
ruIes of survivaI.

And who decides?

What does it matter?

Common sense,
history, peopIe...

Sorry, but I don't
beIieve that.

My point is, these ruIes
must exist for everyone.

Those ruIes are destroying
humanity.

I've reached the
concIusion

now that I think about it,
that I'd Iike to go back.

To forget everything I've
Iearned. Reading, math...

-Even the aIphabet.
-ImpossibIe.

Maybe impossibIe,
but I'd Iike to.

Those Iaws and ruIes
can drive men insane.

Didn't you read about
that guy in the paper?

Some poor beIiever who
couIdn't take anymore,

shut himseIf up in his
room for 6 or 7 hours,

and the poIice
shot him.

Even worse, people
wanted him shot.

It's a terrible
symptom...

Proof that despite
these laws and rules,

human nature
is vindictive.

Always seeking
revenge.

Something's wrong
with your rules

when a sick man is
shot down like a dog

and his own neighbors
called for his death!

There it is.

Look.
White with fIowers.

-And here.
-You're right.

You see?

The soup server
was siIver.

Photography reaIIy
frightens me.

Why?

I don't know.

It's Iike a miracIe...

to see yourseIf
in the past.

That's me.

Who's that?

Mom's cousin.

That's right.

That pIace...

Our cave was there.

-Remember?
-Yes, back there.

Nobody came in without
the password.

What was it?

Toe-toe-toe...

-BIue duck.
-Toe-toe-toe bIue duck.

Yes.

How are things with JuIian?

Fine.

Like everyone, I guess.
Good days, bad days...

Why do you ask?

I sensed a bit of tension

between you two.

Why?

When he said you taIked
in your sIeep,

you Iooked worried.

As if you're hiding
something.

WeII, I am hiding
something.

ReaIIy.

You're happy?

Yes.

You Iove him?

Very much.

Anyway,

your turn now...

What's wrong with you?

I have no idea.

I don't know.

I have to make
a decision...

and I can't.

I don't know.

-Jacobo, Arantxa.
-What?

Get your things,
we're Ieaving.

-Here.
-Thanks.

-Goodbye. Give me a kiss.
-Okay.

Goodbye, Dad.
I mean Grandpa.

-Goodbye.
-Bye. Take care.

Thanks.
It was a IoveIy day.

Why don't you stay with
me a few days, EIisa?

-What?
-If you don't have other pIans.

I was going to IsabeI's
for a few days.

Don't worry,
go on.

-ReaIIy?
-Her bag's in the car.

JuIian, get EIisa's bag.
She's staying.

-Let me.
-I won't be a nuisance?

Of course not!
WiII you stay?

-Yes.
-WonderfuI!

Come on, we can beat
the traffic. Bye, Luis.

Goodbye.

-Bye.
-See you Iater.

Bye, JuIian.
Thanks.

-Goodbye.
-Bye.

ShaII I show you
around?

-You're not tired?
-No.

WeII, there isn't much
to see, but I Iike it.

I take my waIk
around this time.

-Is it reIigious?
-No.

WeII?

It's a Iong story.

I waIk up and down that
path aImost everyday.

WeII, one day I found a woman
Iying on this very spot.

At first I thought
she had fainted.

I went to heIp her,

but she was dead.

I turned her over and she
had a wound in her chest.

Her dress was fuII of bIood.

I caIIed the poIice.

AII they did was griII me
with questions.

Then came aII the reporters,
asking about the ''dead widow''...

That's what they caIIed her.

They actuaIIy thought
I was the kiIIer.

And the fIowers?
Are they from a reIative?

No. And that's
my secret.

I'II share it
with you.

A year Iater,
someone brought...

that white stone and
a vase with fIowers.

I'd aImost forgotten,

but Iater I reaIized it
couId have something to do

with the murdered woman.

Why eIse wouId someone
put fIowers there?

I thought the same thing.
A reIative, or friend...

-or Iover...
-Yes.

Every year on the same day,

someone repIaced the fIowers
and cIeaned the stone.

One year, curiosity
got the best of me.

I decided to find out
who it was.

I waited for hours.

Just at dawn, a man appeared
on a bike, his face hidden.

He changed the
fIowers and vase.

-Do you know him?
-Yes.

I recognized him.

After that, I decided
to find out why every year

he reIigiousIy performs
his IittIe rituaI.

I read aII I couId
about the crime,

I asked about the man
in the viIIage,

and I concIuded...

That he's the kiIIer.

Yes.

Absurd as it may seem,

I reaIized he couId
very weII be kiIIer.

Did you go to the poIice?

No. WeII, I couId
have been wrong.

I prefer not to meddIe.
I'm no judge.

Come on, it's
getting coId.

-I'm not coId.
-We'II fix up your room.

Is there a toweI in there?

EIisa.

No.

It Iacks conveniences.

I used to have
a cIeaning Iady,

but she was too nosy.

I need my privacy...

-It's worth the mess.
-Yes.

I'm no handyman.

I think I have a
curtain for you.

I don't Iike curtains,
but I'II get it for you.

No, that's aII right.
Tomorrow.

I'm very happy you
decided to stay.

So am I.

My father's figure
grows with time.

I now realize
my image of him

came from my mother.

Once it hit her that
he wasn't coming back,

very subtly, but sure
of her own conclusions,

she tried to convince us,

to show us,
and herself,

that my father was
a sick, selfish man.

My mother was the backbone
of the family.

She had a strong will, but
at times would get depressed.

She would say
she wanted to die,

and shut herself in
her room for days.

It was strange,
without an explanation.

She felt empty, useless,
unsatisfied...

incapable of coping
with everyday life.

I'm not sure,

but I think she tried
to kill herself,

though half-heartedly.

The strange thing was a
few days into the crisis,

she would just
hop out of bed,

her strength
restored,

smiling as usual.

The strange thing was,

a few days into
the crisis,

she wouId just
hop out of bed...

Her strength
restored,

smiIing as usuaI.

I can't make
any noise.

I can't make
any noise.

If I make noise,
I'II Iose...

That's it.

That's it.

''Is it possibIe that despite
his inventions and progress,

despite his cuIture and
knowIedge of the universe,

man has but touched the
surface of Iife's meaning?''

-Hi, Daddy.
-EIisa.

Aren't you asIeep?

Where are you going?

I'm going on a
very Iong trip.

Kiss me goodbye?

For how Iong?

I don't know.
Go to sIeep.

Take care of your mother.

I was nine when Dad
left us forever.

He left without a word.
Well...

He did come and
kiss us goodbye.

Mar?a was asleep, but I was awake.
I asked him where he was going.

He said ''for a walk''.
He seemed happy.

He didn't take anything
with him, or leave a note...

He simply vanished from
our lives in silence.

When I saw torn photos

of him in the garbage, I knew
that for us, he was dead.

I was upset, sort of.

Mar?a cried and cried.

Separation. Divorce.
Words we heard at school,

But not things that happened
to people we knew.

My mother was calm, though
pale, and listless.

She would come home
late from work.

Once I heard her cry.

Poor thing.

Though she would
never admit it,

she'd have preferred
him dead.

It would have freed her

to start a new life,

something she could never
do with him alive.

Line 9242, Booth 4.

Antonio?

I'm fine.

ReaIIy, I am.
How are you?

No, weII...

Look, I caIIed
to say...

I'm staying
a few days.

I'm at my father's.

WeII, I changed
my mind.

Now I'm with
my father.

No, I don't need
anything.

I just need a few
days to myseIf.

I need to get
some rest,

that's aII.

No, nothing's wrong.
I'm fine.

I don't know.

No, I just want
to be aIone.

I'II be back in a week,
or ten days.

Antonio, no.

Thanks, but I prefer
to be aIone.

Don't you get it?

WeII, Antonio...
Goodbye.

Are you stiII
transIating?

Of course,
I can't stop.

It pays badIy but it's
enough to Iive on.

I have my cIasses
as weII.

But what eIse
do you do?

I don't know.

I think, I breathe,
I waIk...

I Iive.
No smaII feat!

I have no sociaI security,
no insurance,

no stocks,
none of those things.

This house isn't even mine.
It's rented.

You're a totaI disaster!

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

I couId never do
what you did...

Just Ieave
everything behind.

The wine?

On the fridge.

Wait, wait.

-DeIicious.
-Isn't it?

-I'II get the cheese.
-Okay.

You must have been
pretty fed up...

to do what you did.

I was a Iot oIder
than you are now.

Not so much oIder.

-It Iooks good.
-We'II see.

AI dente.

-Sauce?
-A IittIe.

I hope it's good.

Thanks.

-Dad?
-What.

What do you write about?

-Are you reaIIy interested?
-Yes.

Nothing much.

I gather materiaI
sIowIy,

and write a IittIe
each day.

Not in any set pIan.

When I feeI Iike it.

OccasionaIIy I reaIize
none of it makes sense,

and I burn it.

You burn it?

Yes, and start aII over.

They say aII writers
want to be read.

Yes.

That's true.

But it's more important
to feeI the need.

Sometimes I feeI
that need.

When it burns inside,

I write.

But...

without being pretentious.

I write because
I enjoy it.

Nothing more.

I can't stand peopIe
who go on about art,

those who think they're
creating something important.

For me, writing's no better

than sweeping the street
or Iaying a brick.

-I remember your Ietters.
-ReaIIy?

WeII, I saved them.

I remember one especiaIIy.
After Grandma's funeraI.

There was nothing
tragic about it.

You said they gave her
make up and a wig

to make her more
presentabIe.

And the famiIy fought
over aII her things,

her paintings, her furniture,
her jeweIry...

and you broke
into Iaughter.

You said it seemed much
more IogicaI that

when you die aII of the
things you had in Iife

shouId aIso disappear.

PeopIe, Ioved ones,
famiIy...

even your furniture...

you mentioned
an oId armchair...

and photo aIbums,
books,

even favorite
Iandscapes.

Did I reaIIy say
aII that?

No.

I've had enough
to drink.

Yes, yes.
ConcIusion:

Never write Ietters.

No, no.

When I was young,

I was quite a
Iiterary snob.

I wrote severaI drafts
for every Ietter,

even spending
the whoIe day

to write a singIe page.
I was sure someday,

someone wouId pubIish

my Ietters.

Now the Ietters I reaIIy
Iike are spontaneous...

with speIIing errors...

badIy written Ietters
often mean the most.

AIso in photography.

I hate aII those modern,
artificiaI poses.

I detest them.

But speaking of that Ietter,
I don't know.

I wouIdn't write
it today.

When you die, weII...
that's it.

Why drag others
aIong with you?

It's siIIy.

What do you write about?

I write about
myseIf...

WeII, that's not
exactIy true.

I'II show you
someday.

A psychiatrist
might caII it

occupationaI therapy.

Is it autobiographicaI?

Yes.

In a way.

You write about Mom,
IsabeI and me?

Yes, I suppose I do.

But it's not a confessionaI
piece, I assure you.

I'd hate to faII
in that trap.

No...

StiII, it's inevitabIe.
We write what we know...

it's aII personaI
experiences,

and using your imagination,
though I have IittIe to use.

You feeI more secure
writing what you know.

Yes.

You see?

Look at us.

We sound Iike schoIars.

-I'm contagious.
-It's true.

Dad.

Yes?

Why don't you show me?

You're interested?

Come on.

Dad!

No.

No, EIisa.

Another time.

I need to revise.

Dad.

Another time.

Here.

Why did you send me
to a nun's schooI?

It was your
mother's idea.

Yeah, sure.
Her idea.

-You'II Iove the girIs.
-Yes.

At first it was hard,
but now I Iike teaching.

Very much.

AII the formaIities
never change.

-How are you, Sister?
-Very weII.

She's not my Iover,
Sister.

This is my daughter,
EIisa.

Very weII.

In my day, we had
to waIk in Iine.

Keep in Iine
or eIse!

Times have changed.

At night we had to sIeep with
our arms crossed Iike this...

to avoid eviI
temptations.

Sister, if you
wouIdn't mind...

Quiet down, girIs!

SiIence!

I'II go.

-If you need me.
-Thank you.

AII right, sit down.

First introductions.

This is my daughter,
EIisa.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Sit here, by my side.

Let's see...

Have you aII studied
your Iines?

-Yes.
-Sure?

Yes.

It's Mar?a's
turn to begin.

-You know the part?
-Yes.

''Who caIIs me?
Who shouts?''

''Come hither WorId.
Thy Maker caIIs.''

''What are thy demands?
Thy orders?''

Wait a moment, Mar?a.

It says the Maker
is seated.

Then she gets up
and waIks around.

We'II take it from there.

The introduction.

My character says:
''I give thee a feast...

...for entertainment
is best appIauded...

...as a refIection
of humanity,

so Iet our feast
a comedy be.

Thou shaIt be
Supreme Maker,

and thou,

and thou the WorId''.

''Thou the WorId''.

Dad, stop.

Don't be shy.
You're a good actress.

-Up to your oId tricks.
-No.

-Look, this is the part.
-The WorId.

-''Oh, Supreme Maker...''
-No, no.

Over there, next to the
Supreme Maker. Get up.

You'II be fine.

''Oh, Supreme Maker...

Gen...''

''Oh, Supreme...

Maker...

Oh, Generous one,

whose power...

and voice aII obey.

I...

the Great Theater...

wiII execute your wish...

that men may pIay
on my stage.''

''Come one, come aII''.

''Come one,

come aII.''

Who are they?

CaII them.

Mar?a Jes?s,

Paquita,

Conchi,

Mar?a Antonia,

AngeIes,

Sof?a,

Rosa Mary,

and Mar?a Jes?s VaIceIs.

BeautifuI.

I destroyed him.

He was too kind, too gentIe
to survive my rejection

and abandon me
with impunity.

A crueIer man...

wouId have hated me more
and suffered Iess.

I forced him
into crueIty...

-This part's difficuIt.
-No, Iook.

A crueIer man wouId
have hated me more...

and suffered Iess.

I forced him
into crueIty,

a state that was

unnaturaI to him.

-He wouId...
-He couId never forgive me.

It's beautifuI.

Why did you cross
this part out?

I don't Iike it.

This is the part I like.
It's as if it were me.

As I got further away
from Antonio,

I reaIized
I couIdn't go back

to the man with whom
I'd spent 7 years.

I Ieft,

I now reaIize,

knowing I'd
never return.

EIisa.

Dad. Hi.

Your magazines.

-Thanks.
-And a Ietter.

What's that?

This one.

Not that one.

Who taught you
to do that?

A photographer.

This one's beautifuI.

How about some coffee?

-I'II do it.
-No way.

-Our pact. No pampering.
-Sorry.

This is my favorite.

Do you want coffee
or not?

I don't feeI weII.

I'II make tea Iater.

AII right.

I'II get the kettIe.

And the pact?

WeII...

Oh, Dad.

AII right, go ahead
and spoiI me.

Thanks.

''EIisa, you seem so distant.

What's wrong with you?

I Iove you.''

Antonio wants you
to go home?

More or Iess.

Everyday I reaIize
we're further apart.

It's strange...

You Iive with someone
for years, then

reaIize you don't
know them.

I don't know Antonio.

I don't mean
to bore you.

Not at aII...

I'm gIad you
confide in me.

What wiII you do?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I can't Ieave him.

These situations
are aIways painfuI.

ObjectiveIy speaking,
things aren't so tragic.

AII I can say is
think twice about it.

Just a IittIe
fatherIy advice...

The past is more powerfuI
than we think.

It's hard
to Iet go.

I speak from
experience...

But I'm just
an oId man.

You're not
an oId man!

Not far from it.

One of the first symptoms
of seniIity is memory Ioss.

You forget things
that just happened.

But for some
strange reason,

you remember the
distant past.

It's happening
to me.

I was wrong about
Antonio.

It's no discovery,

I knew it aII aIong.

We've never understood
each other.

I couId never stand his
constant manipuIation,

his constant need
for reassurance.

I knew we'd break up,

but I kept Iying
to myseIf.

I've aIways been afraid
to face things.

It's not aII his fauIt,
he has good quaIities.

But... it's over.
Finished.

It's time to start over.

I didn't know things
were that bad.

WeII, they are.

They are.

He was unfaithfuI.

That hurts the most.

No...

That's not it.

Of course it hurt
at first.

But what hurt most was his
breaking a pact we'd made.

Without mutuaI honesty,
what's the point?

You know who with?

Sof?a...
WeII, you wouIdn't...

know...

Sof?a.

She was my
best friend.

A friend for Iife.

It's a pretty vuIgar
story, of course.

You know how
I found out?

One day,

a woman caIIed me.

Her voice was horribIe.

She said,

''EIisa Santamar?a?''...
''Yes''.

She says,

''Your husband's name
is Antonio?''... ''Yes.''

''Antonio is cheating on you
with someone named Sof?a.''

I said, ''What?''

She repeated it.

Then I said,

''Who are you?''

She hung up.

What then?

Nothing.
I didn't beIieve it.

I didn't...

she was my
best friend.

My friend for Iife.

I couId understand why
he was attracted to her.

She was beautifuI.

BeautifuI.

It took me a
whiIe to react.

I threw myself
on the bed,

and just lied there,

silently.

My world fell apart.

In one brief moment
I saw the failure...

of a reIationship that
had never worked.

I feIt Iost.

Sof?a, my friend.

I began to think maybe
it was a joke. Or a Iie.

I went out

and wandered around
in shock.

I think in such
a moment

your desperation
is intensified.

I went

in a shop,

and bought some idiotic,
useless item, which I

threw away
immediately.

AII I knew was I had to
make a decision right away.

Maybe it was a Iie.
And if it were?

Some peopIe enjoy
pIaying dirty tricks.

I felt alone.

Lost.

I was 30 years old, and
felt absolutely useless.

I have a degree, but it's
just something to brag about.

I speak languages...

I can find a job.

But first I had to
face the truth.

I got my courage up,

and I went to Sof?a's

to taIk to her.

When I got there,

the doorman said
she wasn't there.

She'd been gone
for two months.

He thought she
was abroad.

It made sense,
her maiIbox was fuII.

How strange.

So you never found out
if it was true.

Later I found out
it was.

She wasn't abroad?

I don't know.

And I stiII don't
know who caIIed.

You never saw
her again?

Never.

How strange.

I hate her.

They grow potatoes...

and Iots of
sunfIowers.

But this summer
has been so dry,

aII is Iost.

I saw as I came in.

-It's a shame.
-Yes.

Antonio.

EIisa.

-Hi.
-How are you?

-Hi, Dad.
-Hi.

What's up?

I wanted to taIk
to you.

I'II go.

No, Dad.
Stay.

Of course.

We'II go
for a ride.

WeII, aII right.

-See you Iater.
-Bye.

Bye, Dad.

You can Iive with
someone for years,

Then reaIize you
don't know them.

Life takes it's toll.

It wears us out,

and makes us old.

Your Ietter reaIIy
hurt me.

AII right,
I'm sorry.

PIease forgive me.

It's aII my fauIt.

Let's not drag
this out.

EIisa, come home
with me.

Why?

It wiII be the same
thing again.

No, Antonio.
I can't.

Let's try it.

One Iast time.

I Iove you,
EIisa.

I Iove you.

I can't Iive
without you.

EIisa, my Iove...

Antonio,
Ieave me aIone.

I don't want to Iive
with you.

I won't go back.

Antonio,

we're not chiIdren
who fight,

kiss and make up as
if nothing happened.

We're aduIts now.

At this point...

the onIy soIution
is separation.

This way at Ieast

we might saIvage some
fond memories...

There's someone eIse.

You know that's
not true.

I don't Iove you.

Not anymore.

I'm sorry.

I wish I did,
Iike before.

It's my fauIt.

That doesn't matter.

EIisa, I'm begging you
to come back.

I want a quiet Iife.

That's not true.

AII you want is to be
the center of attention.

You can't see that other
peopIe need Iove, warmth...

Love, warmth...

And you?

You give nothing.

Our emotionaI and
sexuaI ties are dead.

You think so?

PIease, Antonio.

You know I do.

I think we can
start over.

If we're both wiIIing
to make an effort.

Nothing wouId change.

We can't even say,

''We'II Iive together but
have an open arrangement.''

We aIready tried
that and it faiIed.

Remember?

I stiII Ioved you then.

I thought it
couId work.

But as time passed,

I began to see you
in a different Iight.

I saw who you
reaIIy were,

and stiII are.

The reaI you.

And who am I...

if I may ask?

I'd rather not say.

TeII me.

This can't get
any worse...

As you wish.

You're

a person

incapabIe of giving,
incapabIe of Iove.

You keep things
inside.

You're seIfish,
caIcuIating...

aIways trying to benefit
from everything.

You've never seen
my sensitivity,

my insecurity,

my need for
reassurance,

my IoneIiness...

nothing.

My anxiety...

You don't know me.

After 9 years you stiII
know nothing about me.

And you?

Who do you think
you are?

SeIfish, possessive,
destructive...

When have you ever
encouraged me?

You've made enemies
of my friends...

good friends...

You've estranged
aII my friends.

I was a happy person,
fuII of Iife.

You've turned me into
a sad, tormented man.

I have?

Yes.

Thanks a Iot.

I'm sorry you came.

I'II never go back.

Never.

I stiII think we
couId try again.

No,

no and no.

AII right.

Don't bother,
I know the way.

You can live with
someone for years,

then realize you
don't know them.

Life takes it's toll.

It wears us out,
and makes us old.

We try to salvage
the sinking ship,

our illusions,

the feelings
we once shared,

and deeply valued.

It's hard

to accept that it's
not only others,

but ourselves
as well,

that deteriorate faster
than we want to believe.

I've spent my life

trying to prolong those
few happy moments

to which all humans
are entitled.

Grasping...

to justify the rules
I must follow,

to me, no more
than a saddle

and bridle

on a horse.

When Antonio became
a stranger to me,

my world
fell apart.

Everything about
him annoyed me.

The way he ate,

the way he sat,

the way he dressed,

his odor,

his smile...

We didn't even
bother to fight.

We reached a point

where nothing
excited us.

Come on, EIisa.

Don't cry.

Come on,
it's aII right.

You'II be fine.

I won't go back.

Fine, you can
stay here.

I won't go back.

Never again!

Never!

You can stay
here with me.

CaIm down.

Never again!

-Of course not.
-Never again!

Of course not.

-It's easy for you to say.
-WeII...

-You think I'm a fooI!
-No, I don't.

-You think I'm hystericaI!
-No, that's not true.

You just need to
caIm down, EIisa.

-I am caIm!
-No...

I'm caIm!
I'm caIm!

EIisa...

Come here.
ReIax.

Be reasonabIe.

-I am reasonabIe.
-No...

It's not worth
getting upset.

You have no right
to say that.

AII right, I have no right.
Just reIax.

-Let go.
-ReIax.

-I'm reIaxed.
-No, you're not.

Don't cry.

Come on!

You're a fooI!

-I'm not a fooI.
-FooI!

A fooI!

-AII right.
-An idiot!

-AII right.
-Idiot!

That's enough!

Don't hit me!

Don't hit me!

PIease!

Don't hit me!

Dad...

Don't hit me!

Dad!

I was never toId,
EIisa, my Iove...

in our sweet vaIIey,

under a gentIe breeze,

as we picked
tender bIossoms,

I was never toId...

the sad day
wouId come,

which wouId put
a bitter end...

to aII our
dreams of Iove.

SIeep.

You're so good to me.

ShaII I stay a whiIe?

Yes.

EIisa...

Go to sIeep.

AII right.

Still,

with surprising
perseverence,

he struggled
to keep breathing,

ignoring her
presence,

intent on
staying alive.

I wrote aII night.

I feeI Iiberated.

If onIy I couId
proIong this moment...

I feeI so aIive...

aIive...

She Iay awake
aII night,

unabIe to sIeep.

But she doesn't mind...

in fact,

she Iikes to Iie awake
in the darkness...

to Iet her imagination
wander freeIy, waiting...

for memories to emerge.

Memories...

What memories?

This pain...

it's back again.

Such a nuisance.

I can't remember
things.

They sIip through
my fingers.

So much forgotten.

The onIy way
to reaIIy know,

is to take him to the
hospitaI for testing.

It'II be hard
to convince him.

I'II try.

Do it soon.

It's serious?

It couId be.

-Do it soon.
-Yes.

Thanks.

-Goodbye.
-Bye.

What is it?

My funeraI,

right?

You need rest.

Sure, so do you.

No...

I prefer the Iight.

AII right.

What eIse did
the quack say?

Move over.

He said you need testing
at the hospitaI.

He needs to see
the resuIts.

And you must
stay in bed.

I have cIass today.

I've never missed.

Today you're staying
in bed.

You'II stop me?

Yes.

Oh, Dad.

Dad.

Dad...

I can't stop you.

If you keep this up...

You need to stay
in bed.

I'II do the cIass.

You? How?

Why not?

Yes.

Why not...

Tomorrow the hospitaI.

Don't worry.

Now go.

You'II be Iate.

You'II stay here?

-Yes.
-In bed.

You promise?

I promise.

OnIy you understand me.

Because I Iove you.

I'm aII right.

I'm used to this.

You'II see.

Bye, Dad.

Bye.

Stay there.

Don't move.

Quiet down!
SiIence!

''Come, mortaIs, come!

Prepare for the WorId
Theater Performance.

Speak, Supreme Maker.''

''If man couId choose,

none wouId ever
choose pain.

AII wouId choose a roIe

of power...

unaware that it
is onIy a roIe.

They beIieve it is Iife.

I, Supreme Maker, know
which roIe suits you.

Paquita, thou
shaIt be King.''

''I as King shaII govern
and be worshipped.

Give me your goId.''

-''Why goId?''
-''Such is my roIe.''

''The Fair Maiden of Beauty
wiII be Conchi.''

''Great is my joy!
I am Beauty itseIf!

Give me jasmine,
musk and roses.

Mine are the stars
in heaven,

the envy of the sun.''

''Antonia wiII be
the Rich and PowerfuI.''

''Mine are riches, Iuxury
and pIeasure.''

''AngeIes,

the Worker.''

''The Worker?
I object!''

''The Worker.

You'II work from dawn to dusk.
I command you.''

''I object!''

''I command you.''

''I object.''

''Take thy pIow.

Sof?a, thy roIe
is discretion.

Rosa Mar?a,

the Poor and
MiserabIe.

Mar?a Jes?s,
the Unborn ChiId.''

''An easy enough roIe...''

''Take thy pIace.''

''Why am I the Poor
in this comedy?

Why give tragedy
onIy to me?

Why can't I be King?
Or Rich?

Are they better men,
to be given better

roIes?''

''The Poor.

I give you nothing,

for that is your
WorIdIy reward.

I strip thy garments.

Thou shaIt waIk naked.

AII must pIay their
part in this Comedy.

The better man pIays
better his roIe.

be it Rich or Poor.

The renumeration shaII
be earned if merited.

On this stage, Iife is
but a performance.''

''On this stage, Iife is
but a performance.''

WeII.

Dad?

Dad?

Oh, no.

Dad?

Dad...

I hadn't seen my
father for years,

nor had I really
missed him.

I almost never
wrote him...

just a few postcards
to say I was fine,

and that Antonio and
I sent out love.

I didn't want
to see him sick,

struggling to recover
from a recent operation.

At the time, my marriage
was in crisis...

Well,

one of a series
of crises.

When I got my
sister's telegram,

telling me of
his illness,

and then an anxious
call from my family

that revealed how
serious it was,

I decided to go
to Madrid.

Selfishly speaking,

finally I had an excuse
to get away from home

and calmly reflect upon
my own situation.

As I got further
away from Antonio,

I realized
I couldn't go back

to the man with whom
I'd spent 7 years.

I left,

I now realize,

knowing I'd never return.