Burning Patience (2022) - full transcript

Mario is a young fisherman who dreams of becoming a poet. He gets a job as the postman to Pablo Neruda when the legendary writer moves there after being exiled from Chile.

foodval.com - stop by if you're interested in the nutritional composition of food
Enough! Okay.

One more. There you go.


Hey there! Look at that!

Don't forget to throw that over there!


We just listened
to "Look, Little Girl", by Los Jaivas.

This is the best truck you can find,
hands down.

I may get me one.
Mark my words, you'll see.

...region of Valparaíso.
We keep you company today and every day.

We are Papagayo Radio, 97.5,
a dial of amplitude modulation.


Now, let's listen
to Los Ramblers. "You Are Exquisite."

Go over there.

Help me.

- The fish seems fresh, but how do I know?
- Because I caught it myself.

No way.

This is the one that I caught.

If you know it's fresh,
why are you asking?

- It's a joke. Trying to annoy us.
- I know.

I just wanted you all to remind you all
that it was me who caught this fish.

True, but now this will be
the last fish you'll ever catch because

- he's quitting fishing.
- What are you talking about?

Why won't you fish, Mario?

You know why, Mom.

Maybe I do, but now I think it's time
for you to tell the rest of the family.

Why do you want to stop fishing?

Because I'm not cut out for it.

- No kidding. He doesn't want to fish.
- He's not cut out for it!

- Skills. He has other skills.
- Alright, alright.

- Yeah.
- Everybody. Just stop. Hold on a minute.

Mario, if you're gonna sit at this table,
you gotta work. Okay?

- You have to have a job.
- Yes.

Yeah, yeah, okay, but...

can I at least just finish my dinner?

- I'm not joking with you, Mario.
- And he is cocky too!

What are you going to do
for a living, then, kid?

- Mom, you gotta take it easy.
- But I am taking it easy.

- Okay.
- I am taking it easy.

When I get a job, I'll tell you.

I'll let you know, okay?

Hey! You could tell jokes for a living.

Good idea.

- Yeah.
- No.

The only job around here is fishing.

- Mmm. Okay. I'm gonna think it over.
- You have to fish.

Mr. Lucho.

Mr. Lucho!

What is it, Marito?

Do you have any work?

No, kid.
But you should talk to the new owner.

She's about to open the restaurant,
she might need a new waiter.


Hey kid! El Tabo post office
is looking to hire.

Appreciate it!

Good luck.

Same to you.

- Hello.
- Good morning.


- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.

Can I help you?

Uh, I'm looking for work.

Are you a mailman?

- Mmm. No.
- Oh.

But I own a bicycle.

- Can I see it?
- Sure, it's out front.

Let's check it out.

That's a nice one.

You'll need it
to deliver mail to Isla Negra.

Do you know Isla Negra?

- Sure, I live there.
- Yeah?

I'm near La Caleta.

That's perfect.

Anyway, there's only one person
who gets mail in that entire area.

Oh? And who would that be?

I'm sure you've heard of him.

Let's see if you can figure it out.

I like you when you're silent
For you seem as if you're gone

- And you hear me from afar...
- You mean Pablo Neruda?

Yes, the poet.



Hey, son!

What happened?

I'm going to meet Neruda.

- Oh.
- I'm going to meet the poet!

Okay. Okay.


I found a new job as well.

I'm the postman of Isla Negra.


Nice, son!

International mail.


Put it in the satchel.


I'm ready.

Good luck, friend.

Thanks, boss.

Hello, Mario!

Now, more messages
here n Papagayo Connection,

the radio that helps you.

Raquel, remember your doctor's appointment
is this Friday. It's not today.

Your mom asks you

not to forget and get on the bus again.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Are you the new mailman?

Yes, sir, I sure am.


For me?

Yes, sorry.

They're yours.

Thank you.

Oh, this one too.


- Uh, here?
- Sure.



Uh, oy.


Oh, no, wait.

- There's more?
- Yes.

- Here it is.
- Ah.


Right here.

- Good?
- Yes.

Oh, okay.

See you later.

See you later.



I almost forgot. Give me your hand.

No, right here. For balance.

- Thank you very much, sir.
- Thank you.

See you tomorrow.

Close the gate, would you?

Yes, I'll close it for you.

Thank you.

- Here you go.
- How much?


- There you go.
- Thank you.

- Thanks a lot.
- Have a nice day.

You, too.


"Oh, sea."

"This is your name."

"Oh comrade ocean,
don't waste time or water

getting so upset."

"Help us instead."

"We are meager fishermen,

men from the shore

who are hungry and cold."

"And you're our foe."

"Don't beat so hard, don't shout so loud."

"Open your green coffers,

place gifts of silver in our hands."

"Give us this day our daily fish."

That's nice.

You enjoyed it?


He has love poems too, right?

- Of course he does. Wanna hear?
- Yeah.

Wait, wait, wait a minute.
I have to picture your mama.

You can picture
any kind of woman you want.


Your mama.


"Ode To Love."

"Love, let's do the math."

Something for you to eat.


- Tell Beatriz goodbye.
- Thanks! I will.


For the cold evenings,
count on Luisa's Sweaters.

All styles and sizes.
Ojín 120, San Antonio. Luisa's Sweaters.

Hey, come on in, kid, come in.

- Look.
- Mario. Mario Jiménez.

Mario. Yeah. Look, Mario.

I appreciate that you enjoy my poetry.

But there is more than just
The Elementary Odes.

I wrote one or two books
which in my opinion, are superior.

I also think it's a bit undignified

to be subjected to these sorts
of comparisons and metaphors, hmm?

- Metaphor? I don't know...
- Yes, metaphor.


Okay, girls.

Oh! Almost! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!

Listen to me.

Here on the island

The sea

And so much sea.

Overflowing, relentless.

It says yes.

Then no.

Then no.

And then yes, in blue, and in foam,
raging and turbulent.

It says no.

Again no.

It cannot stay still.

"My name is Sea," it repeats
while crashing against the rocks,

unable to convince them.


with seven tongues of green,

and with seven tigers of green,

and with seven dogs of green,
and with seven seas of green,

it struck the rocks.

It kisses the rocks.

It drenches the rocks.

And slamming its chest,
it keeps on repeating its name.

What do you think?




What do you...?

What the...?

- You're a damn harsh critic, my friend.
- No...

No, Mr. Pablo. No.

I don't mean that your poem is.

- You don't?
- No.

Crazy is, uh...

it was how I was feeling inside
while you just recited your poem to me.

And, uh...

what were you feeling?

It's hard to explain.

- When you were reciting your poem to me...
- Yeah.

...your words, it's like they...

kept moving.

Over here, then... back.

Here... and back.

Like the sea.


They moved just like the sea would.


That is what's known as rhythm.

It was...

crazy, I don't know.

I guess all that moving back and forth
made me dizzy.

Really? You got dizzy?


It's like I was a... boat that was suddenly

being buffetted all over, by your words.

A boat...

that's being buffetted by my words?

Yeah. Well... more or less, you know?

Do you realize
what you just created, Mario?


Your very first metaphor.


Wanna join us?

Yes, sure.

You can help my friend,
I'm beating her bad.

Hi. My name's Clarita.

- Nice to meet you.
- Mhm.

Come on this side, play that one.

What's your name?


Beatriz González.

Beatriz González.

The ball's yours.


Take that to table five,
then some olives,

and get table three utensils.

Good morning, boss.

- What's the matter?
- I... I can't talk right now.

Is the poet's mail ready?

Yes, and also a telegram for him.

Martuka, pass me the poet's telegram.

A moment, sir.

Okay. See you!

- Hi there, Rosita!
- Hi, sweetie!

- Have a nice day!
- Thank you!




Do you have to deliver it now?

Couldn't it wait?

Sorry, Mr. Poet

Why do you interrupt while I'm thinking?

Here you go.

I need to talk to you.

I can see that.

It must be important because
you are snorting like a horse.

Mr. Pablo.


I've fallen in love.

That's not serious.

Haven't you heard? They have a cure now.

What do you mean "cure"?

But if there is a cure for it, I'd...

I'd rather stay sick
because I feel incredible.

I tell you, I'm in love.

Completely and totally in love.

- Against whom?
- Excuse me?

Who is it you love, kid?

Oh. Her name is Beatriz.
She works at the hostel.



There was this poet who fell in love
with a woman named Beatriz.

Seems like Beatrices have always
awaked the deepest of loves, boy.

Mr. Pablo.

- What?
- I'm in love!

You mentioned that eight times now.
What do you need?

It's just I don't know what to say to her.

I saw her there,

and I couldn't talk.

I couldn't say anything.

You didn't say anything?

You said nothing. Nothing at all.

I said five words.

There were only five words I said to her.

Which words?

I said, "What is your name?"

What'd she say?

She told me it was "Beatriz González."

There's still two words missing.

Yeah, I said, "Beatriz González."

"Beatriz González"?

Yeah, because she said "Beatriz González"
and I repeated it,

"Beatriz González."

Look, Mario, you gave me this telegram
and it's supposed to be urgent,

so I'm gonna read it,
before it rots in my hands.

- It's not from Sweden, huh?
- No.

They want me to run
for President of the Republic.


Well that would... be terrific.


Being candidate for President
would be terrific?

Getting in some van to drive all over
Chile to campaign, that's terrific?

What if... What if I get elected?

But Pablo, of course
you would get elected, just...

Just think how famous you are.

No. I want Salvador Allende to win.

How come?

I don't get you.

Who should I support, then?

First, support me.

And then,

when we have the votes
of the entire populace,

the votes of all the workers,

and the miners, and all the fishermen,

we'll give those votes
to my good friend Salvador.

And then, I go back to being a poet.

Okay, let's go to the hostel right now

to deal with these two urgent matters.

Which two?

The Presidency of the Republic

and Beatriz González.

Let's go.

Be right with you.

I brought your desserts.

Well, thank you.

Thank you.

Look what the sea brought today.

What are you having?

- Okay, then.
- Oh.

So, what will it be?

Uh... I'll have a...

Well now, if you thought
that bringing Mr. Pablo would impress me,

you were right.

What would the poet like?

What can I get for you?

Whatever he has.


Whatever he has.


So, a bottle of house red and two glasses?

And our empanadas.

- Be right back.
- Great. Thank you.

Ah, Mr. Jiménez,

this is going to be
much more difficult than I first thought.

But you will have
to figure it out on your own.


In country and city...


In country and city,
Neruda's best for Chile.

Look, here.

The key is hidden here.

You can leave all the mail
inside the house, okay? Got it?

Of course.

These books are for you.

I wrote a little dedication.

Hope you like it.

It's right here. "To my dear friend
and companion, Mario Jiménez."

You like it?

Yes, of course I do.

- Thanks a lot.
- Okay.

Wish me bad luck, yeah?

I hope that you don't get elected.

Thank you.

And I hope you win her heart.

Neruda, we all know,
that he's the one to follow!


Neruda, we all know,
that he's the one to follow!

Neruda, we all know,
that he's the one to follow!

Neruda, we all know,
that he's the one to follow!

Neruda, we all know,
that he's the one to follow!


- Hi.
- Hi.


There's more inside, come help me.

I have to go.

Seems like I've got a lot of things to do.

Now, now, now!


Do you have any money?


I gave it all to my father.


Because they can't deny you conger chowder
if you're a paying customer, right?

Do you understand?




It's on the boss.

Thank you!

It's the logical thing to do.

Maybe, but how do you propose to do it?
Put up fences in the middle of the ocean?

- You'd have to be a moron.
- It's common sense,

- Who said anything about fences?
- A fool could see the problems.

The poet Pablo Neruda
will give a speech in front of the workers

at the coal mine
El Chiflón del Diablo in Lota.

Dozens of miners have gathered there

to get Neruda's signature
on their poetry books.

The prospect of a left party winning...

- What do you want?
- Good afternoon.


House red.

Only a small bottle.

Is it just for you?

Uh, yeah, um...

My plan was to come by
and enjoy the new place.

- It's perfect, you know?
- Mmm...

Is that what you think?


Why give your opinion when I'm not asking?

Uh, well, because it's the truth,
that's what I think.


And what else are you thinking?

- No, no, no! No, you're wrong, buddy.
- What do you mean, no?

- Sea, land, we work for us! Not the rich.
- Hey, hey, hey!

Stop that!

You people yell again
and it's out the door and goodbye!

Sorry, ma'am, sorry.

- Okay, we're done. Thank you.
- Come on.

And you?

Do you want to drink that wine with me?

Excuse me?

Do you want to talk with me? Let's talk.

Or are you gonna tell a story, or a poem?

I should go.

You know what?
Instead of drinking by yourself,

Find your friend Neruda and put up
some posters to help with his campaign.

Let's stop arguing and talk about
something we can all agree on.

How about a toast?

I'm telling you,
this is going to be so good.

You tried to talk to the people of...

Better behave.

- Miss, you know we are passionate men.
- Oh, we will

That woman is right, you know?

What do you mean?

The candidate arrived
in a convertible jeep and waved hello...

Of course.

She doesn't want her daughter
to marry some small town postman.

People gathered
at Plaza Linares to say hello to him.

I'm not a postman.

You're not?

You're a fisherman again?


I'm a poet.

Oh, right, a poet.

I forgot. Congratulations.


Okay, but then write a poem for that girl.

I can't write to her!

I put my pencil on the paper and

it won't move at all.

But when you see her in person,
is there any kind of inspiration?


Yeah, it seems like talking works better.

Well, let's see.

I don't know, but I think that,

if I really liked a girl,

but I couldn't talk to her,

then I might send her

a song on the wind.


Or I'd send her a secret

by carrier pigeon.

Hi there.


Can I buy your kite?

It's not for sale.

How about now?

C'mon, friend.

It's for a girl.

- Alright.
- Thanks!

Here's the mail.

It's for you.


I'm a waitress.

- I work for my mother.
- Is that right?

Do you have conger?

Why yes, indeed.

We have fried conger.
Potatoes or rice with that?

- I think potatoes would be good.
- How 'bout you try our paila marina?

- Is it good paila marina?
- Of course it's good.

I'll give it a try then.

I might have a problem, though.

Oh, no, don't tell me
you don't have any money.

I spent it all at the movie theater.

Well, if you tell me about the movie
then your food is free.

I can't really remember
what it was about but,

I could recite a poem for you.

A poem, huh?



Beatriz, Beatriz...

I'm curious to know if...

your beautiful lips taste of licorice.

But that little verse
won't even get you a dish of sea urchin

You didn't like it?

Not really, no. Have any more?

Of course I have more poems.

The wind is a horse

Hear how he runs through the sea
Through the sky

He wants to take me

Listen how he roves the world
To take me far away

Oh, hide me in your arms
Just for this night

While the rain

Breaks against sea and earth

Its innumerable mouth

Is that a poem you wrote?

Uh, no, it's not mine.

Yeah well, that's good.

Because I don't like to be lied to.

But there's no way I would do that.

Okay, for that poem you can get

a glass of wine with me
and also some vanilla ice cream.

Aw, but that's all I get?

But what if I also write you poems, huh?

Poems that are good.

If you recite
one of your good poems for me,

you could get quite a bit more.

A bit more of what?

I gotta go.

See you.

No, don't go, come on!


Now then, what can I get...


What on earth are you thinking?

I... I'm so sorry, Mom, it was an accident.

Yes, an accident.

You running off to the beach
was an accident!

Okay, go get me a broom.

Go get a broom, will you? Come on!

Here comes Adriana with the broom.

I'm sorry, we'll be there
as soon as we can clean all this up.

- Beatriz.
- What?

What are you doing?

I'm thinking.

Oh, okay. If you're thinking,
then I want to see your thinking face.

And with the window open too,
peeping at people outside.

Oh, it's my room, Mom. Gosh.

We're going to have
a frank discussion now.

Who's the boy?

His name is, um, Mario.


And what does he do?

He's a postman.

What'd you discuss at the beach?


And poetry.

Oh, for God's sake!

He told me Mr. Neruda
will be the President of Chile.


If you're confusing politics
with any poetry, hon,

then you'll be a single mother
before you know it.

Oh, Mom, really.

What else did he tell you?


What's the matter?

What kind of metaphors?

He told me that

my smile spreads
like a butterfly on my face.

Okay. What else?

Well, I laughed when he told me that.

And then?

Then he said some things about my laugh.

He told me my laugh was like a rose.

A spear thrown into the air.

An ocean that explodes.

Enough! I don't want to hear it.


All men who touch you
with their words first

will reach much further
with their hands later.

What's wrong with words?

Words are the worst drug
in the entire world.

Because they make a waitress
in a small town feel like a real goddess,

and then, when reality suddenly hits her,

she realizes that words
are a bounced check.

Just stop, Mom. Not all men
are as bad as dad turned out...

Enough! Don't even mention him!

You know what?

I'd much rather have a drunkard
feel your ass at the bar

than some kid tell you
that your smile flies like a butterfly.

He said it spreads like a butterfly.

Whatever. Flies, spreads,
it doesn't matter and I'll tell you why.

Because there's nothing
behind the words that they say.

They're like bright flares
that just vanish into the air.

No, the words Mario told me
won't just vanish.

I learned them by heart.

Yes, I noticed that.

Tomorrow you'll pack your suitcase
and go to your aunt's house in Valparaíso.

No. I won't.

I'm not asking for your opinion.

This has become very serious.

What's so serious
about a boy talking to me?

All girls talk to boys.

But have you taken a look at yourself?

You are as wet as a plant.

Look, what you are is horny,
and for that, there's only two solutions.

Going to bed or going away,

so you're packing your suitcase,
and leaving, got it?

No. I don't want to and I won't.


Rivers carry stones
and words carry pregnancies.

And don't forget I knew Neruda
way before you did, girl.

Do you know who said,

"I love the love of sailors
who kiss and go.

They leave a promise.
They never ever return"?


That's right, Neruda.

"I love the love that is shared
with kisses, bed and bread".

- So it even comes with breakfast in bed.
- Oh, come on.

Listen to me, your postman
will go around reciting things like,

"I don't want it."

"I don't want it, beloved.
I don't want it, beloved."

"To avoid being tied up,
let nothing unite us."

"I don't want it, beloved".

That's a ring, and I don't have a ring.

"Look, today,
your smile flies like a butterfly,

but tomorrow your boobs
will be pigeons wanting to be caressed,

your nipples will be
two juicy raspberries,

your tongue will be like a,
like a plush carpet for the gods,

and your ass will be
uh-uh-uh, a ship's sail in the wind."

And that thing that you have
blowing steam between your legs

is going to be the jet black furnace where
the erect metal of our race is forged!

Okay, stop it, Mom.

Wait a second. No.

You're not going to Valparaíso.
You're staying here.

But from now on,

this is your prison.

Don't touch that dial.
We'll be with you, as usual,

every day, and every morning.

We make sure you can start your day
the right way, with the best music,

the best people,
and the best stories on the radio.

- Ma'am.
- Don't even think about it!

You know I won't hesitate
to shut down the hostel,

grab my daughter and go back
to Coquimbo, so please save it.

- Mrs. Elba, all I ask is that you listen.
- No, no, no.


That was our
last message of the day...


Yes, boss.

I need to ask you a favor.

Anything you want.

I want you to make
a dream of mine come true.

I want to bid my wife farewell.


- Here.
- Here you are.

If these fish are for the priest,
tell him I send my blessings.

But I never see you at mass.

I do go.

Oh, yeah?

Is this enough?

That'll be fine.

- Okay.
- That's okay.

We always give
the Almighty a discount.

I'll see you at mass.

Mario, I've had it with you these days.

You quit fishing, I didn't say anything.
I supported you. Then, you're a postman.

A poet, I said nothing.

But come on, a nun?

- A nun?
- Come on. Have you gone crazy?

Uh... nothing? Seriously?



So, are you a Catholic now?

- You know what?
- Mm?

You're losing it, Dad.

- Why you little... Hey, hey!
- No, no!

Get back here, you disrespectful brat!

Throw it!

Excuse me.

Throw it here!

♪ The miracle of our bread has occurred ♪

♪ The flaming bush burned in my chest ♪

♪ The laborer sings ♪

♪ Our liberation ♪

Today, I walk happily
Next to the people, Lord

♪ There are smiles in the masses of love ♪

♪ With our eyes open we sing to the sun ♪

♪ There's no pain
Creation is nothing but love ♪

♪ Hands covered in flour in the heat ♪

♪ The miracle of our bread has occurred ♪

♪ The flaming bush burned in my chest ♪

♪ The laborer sings ♪

♪ Our liberation ♪

"And to the copper,
coal and saltpeter unions,

I'm leaving my house by Isla Negra's sea."

"I want it to be a place of rest
for the battered children of my homeland,

which has been plundered
by axes and traitors."

With these words, Neruda
bade farewell to Curanilahue's miners.

And we have new messages.

Mrs. Claudina wants to let Héctor know

that she's arriving tomorrow
on the San Antonio bus

and she asks him to please pick her up.

I have another message here.

It's a message from Sergio to his mom.

Please, remember tomorrow is his birthday
and bake him a cake, at least.

Also seeking a woman who knows how
to administer injections in El Tabo.

"We can pick her up anywhere."

Again. "We can pick her up anywhere."

The station's just received a new message.

This one says it's to Cousin,
but it's from Pigeon.

"I hope you're coming
to the baptism soon."

"Don't miss the fun party we'll have.

because it will be as sweet
as a queen bee's nightly embrace."

Really poetic. Sounds like
that baptism will be a lot of fun.

I love these messages.

Oh, and he also says that he wants to know

if her beautiful lips taste of licorice.

I don't really understand that last bit,
but I'm sure his cousin will.

♪ I love you, baby
I want to be with you ♪

Look what we have today.

Finally, a message for Pigeon
from his cousin.

Well, she says she's really
looking forward to the baptism.

And she also wants you to know
that she's going to bring the cake.


♪ I want to be your hands ♪

♪ I want to be your eyes ♪

♪ I want to be your heart ♪

♪ I love you, baby
I want you to be my love, love to you ♪

- Attention, radio listeners.
- Turn it up.

- Come on, turn it up.
- We have a message from Cousin to Pigeon.

She says he should take his horse
to Llolleo's veterinarian.

She says they're extremely trustworthy

and they will treat him very, very nicely.

- I don't understand.
- I do, though.

Pigeon says
to pick up the package at the post office.

Cousin answers that she will pick it up
after the child falls asleep for a night.


Come on.

- That way.
- Okay. Thanks, Clarita.

So, can we start seeing each other now?


Why not? Do you need me to propose?

No, no, no, no.

I don't think we should see
each other anymore.

- What?
- That's right.

- Why? What happened?
- The... Because it...

It's going to be too hard, Mario.

- Yes, I know it'll be difficult, but...
- No, no, no. Stop.

- B... but...
- Not now. Not now.

- Okay, but when?
- I don't know.

- When?
- I don't know.

Here comes the enemy!

How did it go?

- Good. I got what I needed.
- Oh, that's great.

- Yes.
- I wanted to tell you how grateful I am...

We could at least keep talking.

Oh. No, Mario.


- How are we supposed to keep talking?
- On the radio.

Or you can send me letters with the nun.

What for?


this is love.

Is this love?


Yes, I believe this is love.

- I don't know if it's love.
- Yes, it's love.

It's love.

Where's Beatriz?


I don't know. Inside, I suppose.

Okay. It's just, uh, I was looking for her
because there's a new song to practice.



I wrote...

I wrote you a poem.

Read it.

And then you'll realize
that all of this craziness,

letting me come here,
sneaking me into your house,

that you did it for love.

Okay, now go.

- Will you read it?
- Yes.

I love you.


"For my heart, your bosom is enough."

"For your freedom, my wings are enough."

"What had been resting on your soul..."

Such a liar.

Okay, we're on air in three, two...

I'm back, dear radio listeners,

and we have a message here
to Pigeon from your cousin.

It says, word for word,

"I've decided to go to Valparaíso
because I've been lied to."

"If you'd like to contact me, then
you should speak directly to my mother."

That it, that's all that the message says.

- Sister.
- Oh, leave me alone.

Okay, but just talk to me.

Why did she leave?

- This is Papagayo Radio, 97.5.
- Why would I talk to you, huh?

Hey, I know what it seems like
but we didn't do anything.

I want us to get married.

Lying to someone's a sin. Excuse me.

Hey, but... I never lied to her.

Beatriz writes the songs we sing at mass.

Writes the songs?

She writes the lyrics and I the music.
Don't you get it?

But, what I don't get? Tell me.

Beatriz writes the songs in verse
because she's a poet.

She knows all his poems,
she knows Neruda's work by heart.

And she knows you didn't write
the poem you gave to her.

She even warned you not to lie to her.

- Yes, I know.
- So you can just forget Beatriz.


It's a complicated situation they're in.

She feels like she was lied to,
but I hope everything works out.

And now, the music for today's program.

Let's listen to

"I Want To Scream I Love You"
by Quique Villanueva.

I woke up at the beach,
covered in sand


I woke up

She's in Valparaíso.

I don't know where she lives.

Yes, sister. I know you don't know.

- I know that.
- How are you so sure?

Well, because you're a nun. You can't lie.

- Hello, how are you?
- Hello there.

- Hi, Miss.
- Hi, good morning, young man.

- I don't know where she is. Here you go.
- Thank you so much.

- Hi.
- Okay

Yes, I know.

- Thank you so much.
- But you could find out her address

if you asked her mom.

Then I could send her
some poems I wrote for her.

Hi, Mrs. Berta.

I suppose I could do that.

But why should I do that for you now?

- Here you go, my love.
- Thank you, sister.

- Well, because...
- Thanks, sister.

- ...God is love, you know?
- Don't thank me.


Yes, I know.

And actually, aren't you married to Jesus?

- Here you go.
- Thank you.

- Yes, yes,
- And in love, I'd suppose.

Yes, I'm married to Jesus.

- Right, and that's great.
- Hi there, my love.

- Hi.
- Um, really great, but,

you can't expect every woman
to marry Jesus, can you?

A lot of them
have to settle for someone else.


- like Isla Negra's postman...
- Here, take that.

...for example?

Here you go.

- Please, sister.
- Just give me it already.

It wouldn't kill you to help me!

This one is yours, my love.


Just put it inside my apron.

- It's in there.
- Okay.

Hang on. Pardon me. Hold on. Blessed...

Blessed art thou amongst women.

- Yeah.
- We've got the best nun in the whole town.

- Ah! That's embarrassing. Go Get out.
- She's wonderful. Thanks.

- I'll be right with you.
- It's amazing in here, isn't it?

Here you are.

Pardon me, but...

what's your name?

Julio Donoso Obrena.

Beatriz González.

Nice to meet you, Beatriz.

Communists are so annoying.

Uh, close the door.


Beatriz, where are you going?

...be defeated.

The people united will never be defeated!

The people united will never be defeated!

- The people united will never be defeated!
- Mario?

The people united will never be defeated!

Calm down, man.

If she wants to answer,
she'll send you a letter with the nun.

Why would she send a letter with the nun
when she could send it directly to me?

Well, because
if she hasn't written in two weeks,

maybe it's simply because
she just doesn't want to write you.



Imagine a pretty girl who goes
to Valparaíso to live with her aunt.

She meets a charmer who has a nice car,

who takes her out to a fancy restaurant.

Do you think she'll still remember
the mailman who smells like fish,

and writes her poems?

I'm trying to cheer you up, my friend.


Don't try so hard.

Try looking at it from this perspective.

You lost the woman you love,

you're not eating,

you're not breathing,

you spend all day crying,

but you're writing.

You have become a poet.

But I want to be a poet

and I want her as well.

This neighborhood
is very dangerous at night.

Well, if you say so, then I'll be careful.

Hop on.

I'll take you home.



You got a letter!

A letter!

"I'm surprised
when you speak of my shoulder,

for you have never seen it."

"I'm surprised when
you speak of my shadow,

for you have never seen it."

"All you have seen
is what I have shown you."

"My Sunday face."

"The hair on the top of my head."

"I'm surprised
when you speak of my shadow,

for you have never seen it."

"But I'm surprised
when you speak of my skin."

"I'm surprised by your lie."

"I'm surprised by your lie and your hand."

Hand, Mario?

There's no hand, mom.

It says right here:

"I'm surprised by your lie
and your hand." Why hand, Mario?

It's my hand, but

that just means
symbolically I'm touching her.

She... She feels as though...

It's like she means my imagination

is that hand that touches her
and surprises her.

Oh! But it doesn't say that.

No, it doesn't say that, but I get it.

Then why ask me to read your poem?

It's just because...

well, I like listening to it.

"Last night I sank...

into the sea."

"It was... a dream."

"And the sea was made of milk."

But you were there.

You knelt.
You were laughing on your knees.

"Our chests were rafts
in the middle of the white ocean."

"On your knees, laughing."

"Filled with white air."

See? Not that bad.

Mm. Miss, may I um...?


- "Your words cover me...
- Here you are.

...like a dewy veil."

"I read your voice and my skin travels
a hundred kilometers to your kitchen."

"I see you there behind a mist of vapor."

"I see you only nape, only neck."

"I see you there underneath a dewy veil."

"You are tall, gigantic."

"100 kilometers, immense in the sky now."

"Enveloped in vapor eternal."

"And yet, you fit in the palm of my hand."

I'm Beatriz.
I'll introduce myself.

"I sing at mass, I sleep at mass."

- "I dream at mass."
- "I dream at mass."

"I dream I'm elsewhere."

"I'm walking through cities made of wood."

"God knows my thoughts
and He forgives me."

"He loses His focus too."

"He likes to follow
the course of my dream."

- "Who burned the city of wood?"
- "Who burned the city of wood?"

"Whose reprisal?"

"Who got their heart broken?"

"Who is the arsonist?"

"A pause for the Hail Mary
and I return to the fire."

- "A face."
- "A face."

- "Your face."
- "Your face."

- "The fisherman who works no miracles."
- "The fisherman who works no miracles."

"The fisherman without a sea."

"The man without God."

"The man filled with words of fire..."

- "but with no God and no love."
- "...but with no God and no love."

"I have words of fire."

"I have the sea and I have fire."

"My face is the map
of an island in flames."

"It is true that I burn
and I talk both at the same time."

"And I cannot stop talking."

"I have no good news
that I can bestow upon the fishermen."

"I know nothing
about the raising of the dead."

"I simply came upon a jewel in the sea."

"I carried it to the beach."

"I laid it in the sun."

"On the third day,
it transformed into a woman".

You wrote this yourself?

Go on.

"Yesterday, a sparrow
perched on top of my head

and sang to me."

"I recognized the song."

"It was the melody
of a different sparrow."

"A sparrow that had perched
on my hand on Ash Wednesday."

"And I used to think birds
wrote their own music."

"Now I realize
they repeat the same hymns."

"They tell the same story
over and over again."

"At first, I felt betrayed."

"But now I'm starting to forgive the bird
that perches on top of my head."

"I feel its claws digging in my hair."

"But I don't scare it away."

"I don't scare it away."

"I enjoy the feeling of its claws...

piercing my flesh."

"I don't know if I can forgive you."

"You plagiarized a poet."

"You stole someone's words."

"You stole a minute from me."

"You read me foreign words."

"You did it confidently,
certain of my ignorance."

"Certain that I wouldn't know
the words of that poet."

"You thought the only books I would read
had to do with food."

"Or romantic paperbacks."

"You felt you were my king."

"And that I was your cook."

That's so much worse than lying.

To know that you fell in love
with an illiterate lamb.

I hate you for loving a lamb.

She says she hates you.

That's something, though.

Oh, my love.

There's no way I could have known
that you know more words than I do,

because I don't know anything.

"Now at least I know one thing."


is love."

"I can be your cook."

"I can knead. I can pluck. I can debone."

"I can do whatever you need."

"Because it's clear."

"The poet here is you."

My pupils are two black suns
That are bathing in the ocean.


If the ocean

is an ocean of tears,

and my pupils are bathing
in an ocean of tears,

it means that I'm crying.

- Oh.
- But what sounds better?

"My pupils are bathing in the ocean"?

Or, "my pupils sink into the ocean"?

Isn't it the same thing, though?


Yeah, that's true.

Both are the same.

"Thank you for your letters."

"They smell like the sea."

"They persuade me and they dissuade me."

"They persuade me because
the words are sweet midnight wine."

"But they dissuade me because
the words are bitter midnight wine."

"Yesterday, I met a laconic fellow."

"He only spoke three words
and then goodbye."

"I loved him for a minute."

"For a minute, I fell in love
with an enemy of poetry."


"For a minute...

I fell in love with an enemy of poetry"?

That's what it says.

At this point, you need to accept
that she really might never return, okay?

Think of Beatriz like...

like a friend.

Like a friend who lives far away

and sends you letters, lovely letters.

Nothing more.

It's for the best, though, Mario.

That was his latest hit.

Now, hey, oh, Bertita Empanadas.
You can't get enough.

The best empanadas on the coast.

912 Conde Street, don't forget.
912 Conde Street.

Oh! We have breaking news!

Despite his three past defeats
as a presidential candidate,

the Popular Unit has now proclaimed
Salvador Allende Gossens

as their only candidate
for the Presidency of the Republic.

In country and city,
Allende's best for Chile!

- Neruda, after congratulating...
- Shut up, hey!

Dr. Allende, is now
traveling back to Isla Negra

where he will be honored
and welcomed back by his people.

Mario, where is he?



What's going on here, Mario?


What's going on?

Hello, Mr. President.

Don't you "Mr. President" me, kid.

You... What?

- You're not running still?
- No.

I withdrew from the race
in favor of Allende.

Neruda gets to be a poet again.

If I can get my desk back, that is.


I'm sorry, sir.

I needed a place to write.

What you did

was quite disrespectful, Mario.

I could have shot you.

It wasn't always a desk either, it was...

It was a door that washed ashore

on the beach.

The door of a...

of a ship.

And before that, it was

a tree.

What I'm trying to tell you is that,

whatever it is that you write
on this desk here,

must be very important. Very important.

Can I make a suggestion?

Yes, of course.

Okay, get up.

Move, move.

You shouldn't say this:

"I love you."

What you should say is this:

"I will love you."


A promise is much better than truth.

- A promise?
- Yes. A promise.

- What's going on?
- Help me.

Mrs. Elba's coming. Beatriz's mother.

What did you do to her daughter?

Nothing! She's in Valparaíso.

All I did was send her some poems.

Does she know you are here?

How should I know?


Don't let her see you. Hide over there.

Move it!


Excuse me.

Mrs. Elba, good afternoon.

Good for you, perhaps.

I'm glad I found you.

Go ahead, come in, come in.

- Excuse me.
- Please, sit.

What can I do for you?


that individual, Mario Jiménez...


...has been harassing
my daughter Beatriz through mail.


He's sent her poems
that are romantic and filthy.

That might be but,
what do I have to do with any of this?

What do you mean?
You're responsible for this.

You write all these poems about romance
and filthy ones at that,

then you start teaching all this dirty...

This stuff to this one...
squid-stinking fisherman!

Could you specify a little, Mrs. Elba?

What exactly does Mr. Jiménez
write to your daughter?

- Metaphors.
- No!

Your metaphors.

Stolen ones.

Which you also use to seduce women.


Listen to this.

"For my heart, your bosom is enough."

"For your freedom

my wings are enough."

"What was sleeping above,
your soul will rise... out of..."

"...will rise out of my mouth into heaven."

That's the one.

- Uh...
- Look, if that plagiarist fisherman

keeps on bothering my daughter,

then I promise you I'll gouge his eyes out
with these two thumbs right here.

Would you like a little tea, Mrs. Elba?

No, no, no. No, thanks.


I had Beatriz at 17 years old.


And I met a fellow,
a sweet talker on par with the two of you.

And I fell for him.

And he left me all alone.

With a child to care for.

And there's no way that
I will ever let that happen again.

Never again!

You hear me?

Perfectly clear.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Elba.

Come out of there!

Take a seat.

Look, I just got home after campaigning
for our comrade Allende, you know?

I've seen really incredible things.

Crowds, rallies, parades...

Stadiums full of people
listening to my poetry.

But here in Isla Negra,

things are much more interesting,
wouldn't you say?

If I won't see Beatriz ever again,

what do I want my eyes for?


- Yeah?
- You got me into this mess...

- Sorry.
- ...so now you have to get me out of it.

You gave me your books.

Okay, no, no, no. It's one thing
for me to give you my books to read,

but a completely different thing for you
to plagiarize them without my knowledge.

Poetry isn't for those who write it,
it's for those who use it.


Oh, sure.

But the thing is,

right now you shouldn't be
using poetry or your heart.

You should be using reason.

No, I don't want to use poetry
or reason or any of that.

You left me for the longest time,
left me all alone.

So lovesick, and now you come here
and that woman threatened to kill me,

and all you've done
is stand there and laugh at me.

No, Mario. Hang on.

There's something
that you don't understand.

No, I understand you. I understand it all.

Don't ever talk to me again.

- Mario.
- Not ever.


Uh, Mario, think what you're saying.


Mario, wait!




It's freezing tonight, isn't it?

Yeah, it's a bit odd for...

- Try the...
- Cheers.

You kept your visitor
waiting for a long time.


I didn't know he was coming.

Neither did we.

- It's not much, but here's some food.
- It's perfect. Thank you so much.

Well, the reason I came is to...

return this notebook I found on my desk.

It has your love poems in it.

And also

Beatriz's poems.

They're good, too.

Hers are better than mine.

Well, I didn't come here tonight
to discuss poetry with you.

And I didn't just come
to return the notebook, either.

I came to share with you
a realization that I've had.

What happened was, Mrs. Elba
came to my house today and uh,

well, you were there, Mario, right?
She was angry, very angry.

What did you do, Mario?

Nothing, I swear.

It turns out Mr. Mario has been sending

love poems of all sorts to her daughter,

who's been hidden,
tucked away in Valparaíso.

Now then,

I've been curious.

Why did Mrs. Elba

feel the desperate need
to come by my house so angrily today

to threaten me?

Today. Today of all days.


Because something else happened.

That's right, comrade. That's right.

- I got it right.
- But listen.

The thing is, the day after tomorrow,

they're hosting an event for me
at the hostel, as a sort of welcome back

and because of the elections and all.

And, who'll be there?


Yes, without exception.

In fact, I hear no one will be missing.

That's wonderful!

Stay in the back, you.

I have something for you to eat, okay?

There you go. Enjoy!

Want a drink?

Mr. Pablo.

I don't want to.

It's not going to work.


Listen to me, Mario.

Today it's possible
anything could happen.

But the most important thing
is that if you speak to Beatriz González,

do not use metaphors.

Just speak to her

like a mailman.

Talk to her like,

like you're a fisherman.

And if you can do that,
then anything that you say

will sound perfect to her.

- Hmm?
- There he is! Mr. Pablo, welcome.

Here I come!


The poet! The poet is coming!

Bravo, bravo!

- It's good to see you.
- Bravo!

- Here we go, here we go, here we go!
- Okay, thank you very much.

Our good friend the poet
And future Chilean Nobel Prize winner

With all the writing you have done
Now it's time to have some fun

And don't look at me like that
We celebrate today your return

Just like you wanted
To write, and resume your career

So, a toast to poetry
And to the Popular Unit!

♪ We will win ♪

A thousand chains must be broken

♪ We will win
We will win ♪

♪ Fascism must be defeated ♪


I spilled the punch!

Oh! I'm coming.

I'm coming, I'm coming.

Oh, what happened?

♪ We will win
We will win ♪

♪ Fascism must be defeated ♪

- Oh no! I'm so sorry!
- No, don't worry...

- It's just that the wine went to our head.
- Beatriz!


Go, go, go behind the counter and find
something to help me clean this up.


Neighbors of Isla Negra.

Thank you so much for the warm welcome
you've given me since my return

to my beloved Isla Negra.

I must also tell you that today,



and the Chilean people

have come together
to fulfill a singular dream.

And, that dream
is of a democratic revolution.

Yes, the dream.

The dream that must bring with it
true justice and dignity

- for this land so dear to us.
- Yeah.

For all of us,
the Chilean people,

we are making our way to the capital
with Salvador Allende leading the way...


- The country's entire workforce!
- Bravo

Those who are working in the copper mines!

All of you fishermen from Isla Negra!

- And to the same old reactionaries...
- Tell them.

...what do we say?

We say to them, we are not afraid.

Because the force of reason is with us,

as well as the eternal dream of justice...

- Yeah.
- ...love, and dignity

for all the Chilean people.



Forgive me.

What for?

I lied to you.

But you came back.

I will never forgive you.

But then I'm no saint either.

That's okay.

Let's get married.

To convince her.

There is only one way to convince her.

Where is she?

Comrade Elba, this time we're in,
is a time of miracles.

And sometimes, you have
to allow the miracles to occur.


A toast to the Popular Unit.


- But...
- Comrade Elba... Comrade Elba.


I want you to meet Mario Jiménez.

I won him over with words.

Mrs. Elba.

I have a letter.

A letter for you.

It says that

your daughter's getting married.

It's not my fault.

Ma'am, it's your fault.

You took your daughter to school.


read her poems while you cried.

You taught her how to sing.

You taught your daughter that the modest,
poor fisherman is king of the sea

You made her so extraordinary.

It's not my fault that your daughter
fell in love with another poet.

And so then, you need to let me love her.

Please, I beg you.

A love like this
doesn't fly close every day.

And when it does,

you have to catch it
like a sparrow in the spring.


- is a metaphor.
- Oh.


Forgive him.


They say this country is full of poets.

But this is the only one I want.

He's a bit clumsy...

...but I like him that way.

Plus, since I'm a poet as well,
we can both write our future together.

What do you say?

Okay then!

Time for the couple to dance!