Gwen, the Book of Sand (1985) - full transcript
Gwen is a young girl adopted by a nomad tribe in a desert post-apocalyptic world. When Gwen's friend is kidnapped, she and an old woman called Roseline embark on a trip to bring him back.
Once the Makou was gone,
he sometimes left behind
strange images in the desert.
Pictures of various
shapes and sizes.
We respected these images.
Although they were
totally dead.
Because often, they were
of great use to us
as a shelter from
the heat or the cold.
Then we owned
the whole desert
in the still chaos
of silence and
oblivion,
of soft noises,
of light and shadow.
You may leave now, bird.
Your feathers give us strength,
and they'll grow back
before the stars reappear.
Time went by in a constant
back and forth between hope and fear.
Until one morning,
when the hunters
came back with a girl.
She was only a child.
Her father was dead
and for 3 days,
in the far east,
she had followed the bird,
for she knew its call.
This call was familiar to her,
it hovered above our heads,
and the sand couldn't muffle it.
There was like a secret
bond between them,
a kind of lifeforce
that was stronger in
their blood than in ours.
Young girl.
Hey, young girl.
Come down.
Lift up your veil.
Who's she?
It's Gwen
daughter of Tom Logan.
She's with us now.
Up there on the surface,
they are sleeping,
their heads are in the stars.
Even on a full moon night ?
Yes, even on a full moon night.
What about him?
How come he doesn't have a veil ?
What did she say ?
She doesn't know.
She has the gift of gab.
Her real gift
was eyes like fire.
Eyes that stared right at you
and looked like
they didn't know fear.
Hush.
Here he comes.
In our endless journey,
we had reached the limits
of the hunting grounds.
On this particular night,
the air was
unusually balmy.
One can read everything in the sand,
once the wind is gone.
The sorrow of regret,
the lightness of a laugh,
or that special haste
on the way to a date,
that quickens one's step.
I won't go down the well tonight.
The song of the dead
is so light.
And you are here,
careful and quiet.
Like your brother the scorpio.
Because of you, i suddenly feel
like laughing and playing around.
Still, the fear makes
my stomach cringe.
But it's an exquisite fear.
Because of you, my friend.
What's the use of
asking the sand ?
She already told everything.
The land of the dead,
the lost veil,
the makou who
took away my boy.
Everything.
She went away
behind the rocks.
Stones.
It was time to go.
We were nomads, and
went from well to well
without lingering,
it was our only hope
of getting away.
And yet i didn't move.
I felt the girl looking
at me from behind the rocks.
She was waiting as well.
Suddenly there was a familiar voice.
The wind was whispering in my ear.
"There is something you
have to do, old woman".
"Something you have to do..."
I sat still.
For 3 days and nights,
i waited for another sign.
And on the morning
of the third day...
he came.
The best i'had seen since
many moons.
Rodrigue!
Old witch!
Nobody is to go there.
You know it.
You are too old,
old witch!
This madness won't
give you back Nokmoon.
Listen to me,
good for nothing.
Your head is empty,
so listen closely.
All of this is your fault.
You were the one
the makou was to take.
And you know it.
We have to go there.
He will give me back Nokmoon
and he'll take you instead.
Because Death is not
allowed any mistake.
Are you asleep, old witch ?
I can't sleep in soft images.
Tell me a story.
Is it an ill omen ?
No.
These things do not exist.
We see them, so
the must exist...
They both exist
and do not exist.
What do you mean ?
This is what happened :
When man thought the gods
had left this world,
he looked at the sky and shouted
"I'm all alone in the universe."
"All alone in the universe."
They all shouted this way,
one next to the other.
There were many men
in those days.
So they created those lights,
to pretend the sky was still inhabited.
Since then,
the lights keep on travelling.
And when man vanishes,
they will go on dancing for him.
Just like that.
Without reason.
Wind whispers words
that i can't make out.
I'm walking toward you,
blinded by the hustle of
the neverending days
The more i walk,
the more the wind,
softly pressing,
tries to tell me where you are.
Using words i don't understand.
What's the matter,
good for nothing girl?
Are you lost
in your thoughts?
I wonder why the
images are so nasty.
Have you noticed ?
There are more and more,
as if they want to
prevent us from going there.
And yet, you see
we are nearly there.
Tomorrow,
we do the last climb.
I hope i'll see him.
You know,
when i was little,
my father told me that we keep
what we are hidden in our heart.
But i can't do it, old witch.
I long for him to be here.
Close to me.
I want to feel his hands on my face.
I know nothing about love, Gwen.
Some say it's a deep solitude.
Why won't you go with me?
I can't.
That's impossible.
So what's to become of you?
You are going back to the desert?
Don't worry about me.
Halas, there is something
stronger than fire and water.
Listen, i'll tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was a
princess as beautiful as the night...
Well.
We protect and honor the
four thousand pages book.
May they rejoice.
Let us sing the
400 000 verses message.
Until the enlightment day.
Tonight, we open the book at
the chapter called...
"gard'ning to-ols"
Stainless steel watering can...
Stay nlestill what herring can.
My journey ended there,
facing that wall
tall as a mountain.
I had foreseen many obstacles
before taking this trip, but
i never imagined our grief
this morning,
as we parted.
You woke him up.
I try to figure out what is going on.
Look.
It's amazing.
Sometimes his dream
takes shape in space.
As if it was too strong to
remain in his head.
Here.
Look.
For a long time, he
dreamt about still waters.
But recently the
images have changed.
So you think this is the way
the gods communicate?
By means of a dream?
According to you, their
message is hold in a book.
The book exists, they didn't left
it behind without purpose.
One can read it, touch it, it's not a
moving image left to the imagination
Why would they choose him,
that little savage ?
I don't know.
Maybe because he is a savage.
Look.
Sand is leaking from his
ears again.
You and you stories,
it's not our place to understand,
all we have to do is sing.
We are keepers, mere keepers.
Come see, he is waking up.
Look, the images are
starting to emerge.
The images are already dead.
Death before emergence.
You too are wondering,
i can feel it.
You think this time
we will understand.
But each time, the wonderful
images keep silent.
The makou himself knows it.
In a moment he will cast away
the product of his belly, as if ashamed.
What's the matter?
He is burning hot.
The dream keeps changing.
True.
These images do appear alive.
But what do they mean?
What are they trying to say?
Wait.
Can you make his dream go back?
I saw something.
That's impossible.
There is an antic image in the book,
Look,
here it is.
It's coming back.
Fireworks, full of lights and joy.
For your family meetings,
for your friends and neighbours,
fireworks in the garden.
For your friends and neighbours,
fireworks in the garden.
Family meetings, friends and
neighbours, fireworks in the garden.
It's a the end of the book,
listen.
Fireworks, full of lights and joy.
Full of lights and joy.
For your summer evenings,
guaranteed safe.
Keep away from humidity.
From humidity.
Rockets, fountains, sparkles...
First class water suns.
Water suns...
Let us sing about the fireworks
full of lights and joy.
Let us sing about the fireworks.
You and your ideas!
We don't have to understand,
you said, but to sing...
It's you and your silly notions.
At least help me.
For some time in the desert,
a black smoke was hanging,
in the midst of which some shadows.
And then storm and fear
finally went away.
Once more, small signs appear
in the horizon,
light and alive as a breeze.
A clear day is coming ahead.
I would have liked to be told
what was the land of the dead like.
How were their faces.
But as we were back in the sand,
Gwen laughed at my questions.
"They are like the living, old witch".
"They sing with love, and suddenly
start running all over the place".
And she laughed.
In the distance, sky and sand make one.
Maybe she is right.
I have all the time to
think about it, now.
he sometimes left behind
strange images in the desert.
Pictures of various
shapes and sizes.
We respected these images.
Although they were
totally dead.
Because often, they were
of great use to us
as a shelter from
the heat or the cold.
Then we owned
the whole desert
in the still chaos
of silence and
oblivion,
of soft noises,
of light and shadow.
You may leave now, bird.
Your feathers give us strength,
and they'll grow back
before the stars reappear.
Time went by in a constant
back and forth between hope and fear.
Until one morning,
when the hunters
came back with a girl.
She was only a child.
Her father was dead
and for 3 days,
in the far east,
she had followed the bird,
for she knew its call.
This call was familiar to her,
it hovered above our heads,
and the sand couldn't muffle it.
There was like a secret
bond between them,
a kind of lifeforce
that was stronger in
their blood than in ours.
Young girl.
Hey, young girl.
Come down.
Lift up your veil.
Who's she?
It's Gwen
daughter of Tom Logan.
She's with us now.
Up there on the surface,
they are sleeping,
their heads are in the stars.
Even on a full moon night ?
Yes, even on a full moon night.
What about him?
How come he doesn't have a veil ?
What did she say ?
She doesn't know.
She has the gift of gab.
Her real gift
was eyes like fire.
Eyes that stared right at you
and looked like
they didn't know fear.
Hush.
Here he comes.
In our endless journey,
we had reached the limits
of the hunting grounds.
On this particular night,
the air was
unusually balmy.
One can read everything in the sand,
once the wind is gone.
The sorrow of regret,
the lightness of a laugh,
or that special haste
on the way to a date,
that quickens one's step.
I won't go down the well tonight.
The song of the dead
is so light.
And you are here,
careful and quiet.
Like your brother the scorpio.
Because of you, i suddenly feel
like laughing and playing around.
Still, the fear makes
my stomach cringe.
But it's an exquisite fear.
Because of you, my friend.
What's the use of
asking the sand ?
She already told everything.
The land of the dead,
the lost veil,
the makou who
took away my boy.
Everything.
She went away
behind the rocks.
Stones.
It was time to go.
We were nomads, and
went from well to well
without lingering,
it was our only hope
of getting away.
And yet i didn't move.
I felt the girl looking
at me from behind the rocks.
She was waiting as well.
Suddenly there was a familiar voice.
The wind was whispering in my ear.
"There is something you
have to do, old woman".
"Something you have to do..."
I sat still.
For 3 days and nights,
i waited for another sign.
And on the morning
of the third day...
he came.
The best i'had seen since
many moons.
Rodrigue!
Old witch!
Nobody is to go there.
You know it.
You are too old,
old witch!
This madness won't
give you back Nokmoon.
Listen to me,
good for nothing.
Your head is empty,
so listen closely.
All of this is your fault.
You were the one
the makou was to take.
And you know it.
We have to go there.
He will give me back Nokmoon
and he'll take you instead.
Because Death is not
allowed any mistake.
Are you asleep, old witch ?
I can't sleep in soft images.
Tell me a story.
Is it an ill omen ?
No.
These things do not exist.
We see them, so
the must exist...
They both exist
and do not exist.
What do you mean ?
This is what happened :
When man thought the gods
had left this world,
he looked at the sky and shouted
"I'm all alone in the universe."
"All alone in the universe."
They all shouted this way,
one next to the other.
There were many men
in those days.
So they created those lights,
to pretend the sky was still inhabited.
Since then,
the lights keep on travelling.
And when man vanishes,
they will go on dancing for him.
Just like that.
Without reason.
Wind whispers words
that i can't make out.
I'm walking toward you,
blinded by the hustle of
the neverending days
The more i walk,
the more the wind,
softly pressing,
tries to tell me where you are.
Using words i don't understand.
What's the matter,
good for nothing girl?
Are you lost
in your thoughts?
I wonder why the
images are so nasty.
Have you noticed ?
There are more and more,
as if they want to
prevent us from going there.
And yet, you see
we are nearly there.
Tomorrow,
we do the last climb.
I hope i'll see him.
You know,
when i was little,
my father told me that we keep
what we are hidden in our heart.
But i can't do it, old witch.
I long for him to be here.
Close to me.
I want to feel his hands on my face.
I know nothing about love, Gwen.
Some say it's a deep solitude.
Why won't you go with me?
I can't.
That's impossible.
So what's to become of you?
You are going back to the desert?
Don't worry about me.
Halas, there is something
stronger than fire and water.
Listen, i'll tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was a
princess as beautiful as the night...
Well.
We protect and honor the
four thousand pages book.
May they rejoice.
Let us sing the
400 000 verses message.
Until the enlightment day.
Tonight, we open the book at
the chapter called...
"gard'ning to-ols"
Stainless steel watering can...
Stay nlestill what herring can.
My journey ended there,
facing that wall
tall as a mountain.
I had foreseen many obstacles
before taking this trip, but
i never imagined our grief
this morning,
as we parted.
You woke him up.
I try to figure out what is going on.
Look.
It's amazing.
Sometimes his dream
takes shape in space.
As if it was too strong to
remain in his head.
Here.
Look.
For a long time, he
dreamt about still waters.
But recently the
images have changed.
So you think this is the way
the gods communicate?
By means of a dream?
According to you, their
message is hold in a book.
The book exists, they didn't left
it behind without purpose.
One can read it, touch it, it's not a
moving image left to the imagination
Why would they choose him,
that little savage ?
I don't know.
Maybe because he is a savage.
Look.
Sand is leaking from his
ears again.
You and you stories,
it's not our place to understand,
all we have to do is sing.
We are keepers, mere keepers.
Come see, he is waking up.
Look, the images are
starting to emerge.
The images are already dead.
Death before emergence.
You too are wondering,
i can feel it.
You think this time
we will understand.
But each time, the wonderful
images keep silent.
The makou himself knows it.
In a moment he will cast away
the product of his belly, as if ashamed.
What's the matter?
He is burning hot.
The dream keeps changing.
True.
These images do appear alive.
But what do they mean?
What are they trying to say?
Wait.
Can you make his dream go back?
I saw something.
That's impossible.
There is an antic image in the book,
Look,
here it is.
It's coming back.
Fireworks, full of lights and joy.
For your family meetings,
for your friends and neighbours,
fireworks in the garden.
For your friends and neighbours,
fireworks in the garden.
Family meetings, friends and
neighbours, fireworks in the garden.
It's a the end of the book,
listen.
Fireworks, full of lights and joy.
Full of lights and joy.
For your summer evenings,
guaranteed safe.
Keep away from humidity.
From humidity.
Rockets, fountains, sparkles...
First class water suns.
Water suns...
Let us sing about the fireworks
full of lights and joy.
Let us sing about the fireworks.
You and your ideas!
We don't have to understand,
you said, but to sing...
It's you and your silly notions.
At least help me.
For some time in the desert,
a black smoke was hanging,
in the midst of which some shadows.
And then storm and fear
finally went away.
Once more, small signs appear
in the horizon,
light and alive as a breeze.
A clear day is coming ahead.
I would have liked to be told
what was the land of the dead like.
How were their faces.
But as we were back in the sand,
Gwen laughed at my questions.
"They are like the living, old witch".
"They sing with love, and suddenly
start running all over the place".
And she laughed.
In the distance, sky and sand make one.
Maybe she is right.
I have all the time to
think about it, now.