Josep (2020) - full transcript

Motherfuckers.

Little cockerels...
Cock-a-doodle-doo!

You don't care about Spain.

"Those Spaniard savages
can go home to die!"

What do you reckon will happen now?

What are we going to do?
We puny French roosters?

Now that we're stuck.
We're all stuck in France.

We're surrounded.

Three-quarters of our borders
are in fascist hands!

You think they'll be nice
and stay on the other side?

You think those wolves
are scared of roosters?



You'll see. They'll pluck us raw!

Now we've let Mussolini
and Hitler play with their armies

and help their friend Franco!

I smell bloodshed!

France let them do it!

Europe!

Europe let them do it!

And you're French?

Yes, I'm French.

Martin François,
International Brigades.

You're a disgrace to our country!

There they are!

Thief!

That's mine.



- Helios!
- Josep!

Martin!

Valentin!

It's too loud!

What, mum?

So? Can I go with my mates
this weekend?

Dad said no.

- I didn't...
- I'm driving. We'll talk later.

Madame Botezariu?

Hello?

Anyone?

Madame Botezariu? Are you here?

Open, I can't breathe!

It smells like death here.

Dad!

Hello? Madame Botezariu!

Why have you left
my father all alone?

Valentin! You can't watch telly;
your grandfather's dying!

What do you mean you told me?

No, I never said I'd take over!

Do you think I have time?

When will you be back?

Okay. Yes, I understand.

Yes, right, fine.

Ugh! That awful drawing!

I've told him so many times
to chuck it.

- Why? He's asleep.
- He's dead. Can't you see?

- How can you tell?
- I don't know, he's just dead.

Ok, your father has his appointment
with the back specialist.

You stay here with your grandfather.

- What?
- See you!

No! What if he wakes up...

Seriously?

Shit! You scared me!

Have we met?

Really? Grandpa!

It's me, Valentin,

your grandson.

That's just, like,

you know, whatever...

You're not bad.

Hey, hey! What are you doing?

Can I get you something? Shall I...

Can I do something?

The chair.

My spectacles.

What's so funny?

No, nothing.

1939: ring a bell?

Duh! The start of WWII.

- Of what?
- World War II.

No. France went to war in September.

I mean February '39.

You wouldn't have recognised me then.

When Barcelona fell,

500,000 refugees sought
sanctuary in France.

They got stuffed
in concentration camps.

Do you think they deserved it?

What?

Concentration camps!

Mind your fucking step, will you?

Don't be shy, rookie.

You can if you try.

Piss all over him if you want,
it's just a Spanish piece of shit.

Whistling, now?

Feeling all nice and cheerful?

That's what the dagos will do to you.

A second smile.

I didn't do anything!

Never forget they're a pack of reds.

I hear they eat children.

What do you reckon?

Yes, yes...

If black didn't exist,

your coffee would be milk.

If white didn't exist,

kola nuts would be coal.

Blimey, it's bitter.

It's like everything else:

if it doesn't kill you,
you get used to it.

Chew it slowly,

make it last.

Here.

For you.

Quick, take it, please!

I beg your pardon.
I'm going to have to...

Who do you think you are, you...

There,

that'll show you,

Spanish piece of shit!

See, Léon?

When the lesson's good,
they learn fast.

There were a few kind gestures,

here and there.

But they didn't make up
for the barbed wire,

there to let them die, starve,

freeze, fall ill,

the beatings, the humiliation...

Those people had fought
and fled fascism.

They're going to let us die,
without any doctors!

What did we do to you?

Answer me! What did we do?

Hey, rookie!

Get over here!

Sit your arse here, old boy.

Léon, pass him some pate!

No drinking water,

no doctors,

scabies, scurvy, typhus.

And the famine.

It's horrible to feel hungry.

Now!

Careful! Stop!

Right on target, Léon!

- So sorry, lads!
- Yeah, right, so sorry!

Which ones were the animals?

Enjoy!

You have to wonder. Which ones?

Here! Catch!

Which ones?

Watch them slit each other's throats
for a loaf of bread!

- See? I told you!
- Someone's upset!

What the...?

Fuck it. Gimme a ciggie.

Are you still sat here?

Do you never go anywhere else?

I'm drawing.

Looks like you're longing for
someone to arrive!

My fiancée.

Miss Marie!

Don't go near the urchins!

Here we are.

Let's see
what you've cooked us today, Josep.

Ham croquettes.

Serrano ham, or Pata Negra?

Pata Negra, of course!

Any news from your fiancée?

Are you engaged?

She's from Madrid.

I guess nobody's perfect!

But she's a beautiful lady.
Show her, Josep.

She certainly is!

When I found out she was pregnant,

I made her leave Barcelona.

Last time I saw her was
at the station,

two months ago.

I made her get on a train to France.

You'll find her, don't worry.

That's what I tell him.

Would be a shame for us though!

- Don't say that!
- Look how handsome he is!

Our Josep's so handsome!

He is.

And such a gentleman.

You can sleep here tonight,

You'll be warmer.

No, thanks.

What are you scared of?
Lice, or temptation?

Both.

Come here Capi!

Come, my dog.

Even the dogs are scared of us.

Women and children here, men there!
New orders.

Cooperate.

It'll be easier for us all.
Believe me.

Where you going, rookie?

For a smoke outside.

I hear you're chummy with the negros.

So? What's wrong with that?

What's wrong with that?!

Colonials are French
like you and I, right?

Well, yes but, no but...

- Goodnight.
- You too.

What the...?

Don't worry.

We have an arrangement
with the Africans.

- Do you like it?
- Oh, yes. Very much!

No, I mean my... travail...

- My work!
- Oh! Your work?

Yes, yes, very much, too!

Bertilia!

Are you going to show them or not?

Show you what?

Something nice and hot!

We're freezing here!

Higher! Show us your knickers!

I'd be glad to,
if I was wearing some!

38!

Fucking hell! That's me!

42!

Nobody has 42?

I hope your sweetheart's worthy.

Are you a...

I mean...

You don't like women?

Yes, I love them.

Shagging with just your cock
is like painting without your soul.

Well,

but I can say that.
My loneliness is less painful.

I've got someone waiting for me,
somewhere.

31!

That's my number! Thief!

Put that away!

I should do something, right?

No, just leave them...

Enough blood has been shed! Stop!

The communists stole all we had!

You stole our weapons! And our war!

Fucking anarchist traitors...

If you want to kill each other,
go for it!

Otherwise, you go that way.

And you come with me.

56!

Wait,

why does she have paint
on her fingers?

Because she's Frida Kahlo!

Hello, Josep.

Hello, Frida.

What?

Give me a light?

Josep,

tonight I felt wings
caressing me all over.

It was like your fingertips

had mouths that kissed my skin.

Come on! Come on!

Excuse me!

Have you seen this person?

Excuse me, lady?

Helios?

Josep!

Come on! We haven't got all day!

But... that's my lighter!

How did that happen?

Remember that French pig?

I saw him in Perpignan
and he gave it back.

It was wrong of him to steal it.

Gave it back? Just like that?

Yes, kindly. I hope he likes soup.

It's all he'll be eating for weeks.

How are things in Perpignan?

They nabbed me in a raid
three days ago outside the consulate.

With 200 compañeros.

It's foreigner hunting season.

Signs everywhere:

"Don't house the refugees",
"Don't feed the refugees".

And Martin? Any news?

I hope the gangrene left him
in peace.

We have one nurse here now.

So instead of dying in three days
you die in a week.

The same sea,

the same waves, the same drops of
water bathe Barcelona.

Just there, slightly south,

a few dozen kilometres away.

When will we go back, Josep?

Next year, to Barcelona!

Hey, Josep,

Come help me!

Our nation, ruled by
the glorious caudillo Franco,

is open to every Spanish citizen.

Numberless crowds,
millions of men and women,

not subjected for years
to his authority,

will return, in a day,
to their ordinary lives.

Embraced with Christian
clemency and brotherliness.

Everyone knows
how Franco administers justice:

with such benevolence,

such a scrupulous understanding
of the complex reasons...

Yes, we know perfectly well.

They took my younger brother,

my mother couldn't say where I was,
so they shot him!

That's Franco's justice!

I beseech you, from the heart,

in God's name,

come home to Spain.

One, great, free Spain awaits you!

Hail Spain!

Long live Franco!

Come here.

Aren't you going?

Because you think...

they'll welcome us
with Flores y canciones?

...with flowers and a brass band?

I don't know, the officers said...

They're going back to cages,
torture chambers,

firing squads.

I'll go back to spit on
Franco's grave.

Capi!

I'm looking for my dog, Capi.
Have you seen him?

We don't speak French.

Look at those scavengers!

Come on, you famished mob!
Move your arses!

They shall not pass!

We know two of the gendarmes...

I'm the law!

...They're happier playing
with firearms

Than playing with a lady's rump

Their gendarme baton's game
Shame they simply cannot aim

Oh my, oh my, oh my, gendarmes

Oh my, oh my, oh my, good sirs

Their gendarme baton's game
Shame they simply cannot aim

Oh my, oh my, oh my, gendarmes

Let us play with your firearms

Hey, rookie! See the view?

Boy in blue sees white tits
and turns red.

Blue - White - Red!

He didn't get it.

The gendarmerie is watching,
my ladies.

If these negros do anything untoward,

I'll punch them like a train ticket.

Thank you kindly, my ladies.

What did the Negro say?

He politely thanked us,
which you forgot to do.

Enjoy!

- What's happening?
- Requisition.

Requisition?

Yes, requisition.

One day you tie the noose,

another you hang the swine.

In-between, do as you're told.

A black and a red speaking softly.
Now we've seen it all.

That's stealing!

Don't piss us off!

Stealing from bloodsuckers
isn't stealing.

Bloodsuckers, comprende?

Why should France
feed and house you?

Scum. Communist!

I not communist.

Calm down, Léon! Easy now.

This one gives me the shivers.

He can't see he's lost everything.
Even the right to live if I wish.

Even that, dirty dago!

Come on, Helios, give it.

Give it!

Well, "they shall not pass",

stick that in the car, will you.

Such a lovely day...

I'd hate to splatter
your family jewels all over the road.

Such a shame, right?

What a stench!

Is this how they teach you
to draw in your country?

Not very realistic.

Yes, yes, pig, very realistic.

Filthy Spaniard piece of shit!

Take this!

Scum!

The things we have to do...

Damn!

Shit...

And that?

Rummaging last night, were we?

I didn't do anything!

Didn't you, little shit?

No, I didn't, nothing!

You're just shit. See?

I can squash you like shit.

Léon, look, the shit is crying.

Now we've seen it all.

We'd taken you under our wing.

Hadn't we, Léon?

Take that, shit!

- Robert!
- What?

- The darkies!
- What about the darkies?

This isn't over.

You ain't got nuffin else to do?
Mind your own business.

Seriously.

I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.

Thank you.

Come on.

No cross, either?

Oh, right, you anarchists
don't believe in all that.

He's anarchist,

not me.

Is it true, what they say about them?

If you let starving dogs loose,
mind their teeth,

they bite.

But, if you try to cage them again

they go loco.

That's what happened.

Nos moríamos de hambre,

you understand?

Yes, dying of hunger, starving.

Yes, hunger for food,

hunger for liberty,
hunger for life...

When Franco tried to cage us,
some went crazy.

So, si?,

churches were burnt down,
nuns and clergy were assassinated.

In a war, you kill or get killed.

Before all this
I didn't believe in God.

So, after it...

If souls exist,

they're like beautiful ideas.

The ideas that inspired me, him,

everyone,

communism, anarchism,

the República...

"If those beautiful ideas

"can't find a beautiful person,

"then death happens."

That was him, Helios.

It was him.

Here. If you like it,

it's for you.

My sweetheart,

she take the train to France,
then no news.

She's... embarazada.

She's pregnant?

Sí.

I have to find her.

Do you know where she is?

No, no sé.

She's called María Valdés.

María Baldés.

No, with a V.

Not a B, a V.

V...

Baldés or Valdés?

Like Baldés, but with a V.
Valdés, okay?

Have you seen the crowd out there?

We do what we can, it's not much.

Have you asked at the
Bureau des Passeports?

- Yes...
- Sorry.

María Valdés?

Does anyone know María Valdés?

Do you recognise her?

- Do you know María Valdés?
- They won't answer.

They're afraid of gendarmes,
because of the raids.

- You speak French?
- Yes, a little.

Why are you looking for her?

Did she injure you?

What? No, no,

her boyfriend... No!

I mean her boyfriend's
looking for her. He's a republican,

in a camp, I'm helping him.

Do you know her? She's pregnant.

Help me up.

If you know this woman,

her boyfriend has no news of her.

He has fought for the República.

She's pregnant by him.

María Valdés!

If you've seen her,
please help us.

No, I've never seen her...

Excuse me, Monsieur le gendarme,

but you're standing in my way!

Yes, I beg your pardon, madame.

Pardon, pardon,
I don't have time to pardon.

They're everywhere,
and in such a state!

What happened across the Pyrenees
to make them run in this state?

The ravenous devil!

A mother arrived clutching her baby,
it had been dead for 10 days!

I work 36 hours non-stop.

I could work double that
and wouldn't change a thing.

They're just too many.

Anyway, what does Monsieur want?

I'm looking for this person.

An acquaintance?

No, not really...

A friend of a friend.

Let me take a closer look.

She's called María Valdés.

Monsieur thinks I know their names.

But the face looks familiar.

Really?

I was at another hospital before.

Right. And where is it?

I'm not promising anything.

Does Monsieur have a motor?
It's quite far.

María?

María Valdés?

She won't answer.
Nobody here's heard her speak.

I'm looking for this person.

She's called María Valdés.

Nice portrait.

We don't know her name.

She'd have been
a few months pregnant, I believe.

She probably lost her baby
when she lost half her face.

Do you think it's her?

There is a resemblance.

Shit!

No, no, no, no!

You alright?

Here.

It's bitter but invigorating.
You'll see.

Even Franco's aren't that bitter!

Shh! Not a noise.

María?

Josep?

Shit!

Fucking Spaniard!

What did you do after diving?

After what?

You dived. Then?

Okay, stop it, what's up?

- What are you called?
- Valentin.

Have we met?

Yes, grandpa, I'm your grandson.

Which one?

The only one you've got.

And how many grandpas do you have?

One. I never met the other one.

Do you know what I'm called?

- Grandpa Serge?
- Serge!

Not Josep.

- I thought...
- You've got lots of imagination.

- Too much, mum says.
- It's never too much.

You know, my boy, in a week,
maybe a month,

I'll be gone.

So, if you want to tell me
what you thought, hurry up.

I thought you'd changed
your name to Serge when you ran away,

went underground.

I know the resistants
changed their names, so...

You'd prefer it, right?

We can't all be Spanish republicans,

fight Franco

and be gifted at drawing, like you.

Well, I was French.

A French gendarme.

What's going on?
You leaving? Where?

To our barracks!

Things are heating up there,
with the krauts!

We'll beat them hollow!

Go! Go! Go!

This isn't happening!

Oh, no! Shit!

It can't be...

Robert!

The darkies...

Shit!

I did what a French gendarme
had to do.

It wasn't always nice.

Move please, move!

Go! Go! Go!

Move!

I didn't like doing it.

But I did it anyway.

They're vermin. Like tapeworms.

You can never get rid of them,
can you?

Go! Go! Come on!

Sometimes,

we had to lend a hand to the Gestapo.

When is disobeying an order right?

It's Sunday,
I'm going to see my maman.

- Got a ciggie?
- Yes, sure.

Here.

Thank you. Good boy!

Hey! You!

Here!

Yes, you! Come here!

I know you!

Climb in!

Climb in! I said climb in!

Léon!

Don't you recognise this fuck?

Oh, yes, the doodler.

Exactly!

Sit down.

Sit down and don't move.
You hear me?

Maybe that's when I remembered
the Senegalese tirailleurs.

We'd brought them from so far
to help us do the dirty work.

They could be fierce.

They didn't often get permission
to beat up whites.

It wasn't her?

No, María doesn't have blue eyes.

Have you not found her?

The German planes bombed
her train in Figueras.

She never got to France.

When I told my Senegalese friend

about my plan to sneak Josep
out of the camp

to go to the hospital ship,
he replied,

"If I don't see him go,
why will I shoot?"

I realised
he wouldn't disobey orders:

he would simply look away.

What's the republican scum on about?

But I couldn't just look away.

I told Josep about my plan.

Why didn't you escape with him?

I don't know.

I was afraid, perhaps.

No, but...

What you did was brilliant!

Maybe I reckoned prisoners
ran away all the time.

But I wasn't a prisoner.

But you're a hero!

No, no...

I let all those people
take those trains.

I woke up in hospital.

I was injured,
so I was useless with a rifle.

I helped out, however I could.

The Résistance?

Did you have a nom-de-Guerre?

Yes.

Josep.

I knew it!

- Then what?
- Oh, then...

Did you find her?

- Excuse me?
- Your sweetheart.

Ah! Spanish consulate, right?

Yes. Enriqueta.

She wasn't my sweetheart.
She was a friend's,

Josep Bartoli's.

Josep Bartoli?

Good God!

Salvador, come see!

The baker had been conscripted.

The mayor went to find a new baker
in the nearest exile camp.

He was Josep's brother.

I helped however I could.

DISOBEDIENCE IS THE WISEST OF DUTIES

A few months later,

I got a letter from Mexico.

Grandpa! You okay, grandpa?

We were in Mexico.

Mexico?

Allons enfants de la patrie...

Josep!

Le jour de gloire est arrivé...

Serge!

My friend!

Frida! Have you lost your mind?

I lost it ages ago, corazón.

Frida?

Oh, yes, the one in the camp?

How can she possibly have been
in the camp?

I don't know, you said...

Forget it, I probably misunderstood.

Your memory's rambling.

Hello, Josep.

Hello, Frida.

Give me a light?

Wasn't Diego coming to help?

Ah, my darling hubby.

When he's not painting a new fresco,

he's panting on a new woman.

This is my friend Serge.

He saved my life.
He's just arrived from France.

How do you do.

I hope you're not one of
those intellectual hijos de puta

who spend their days
lazing around bars

hoping to live off
a host of wealthy skanks!

Welcome to Mexico!

Lights!

You're scaring off customers!

He must be 5 now.

- Who?
- My child.

María's child.

But you said that...

But what if they survived,
against all odds?

Dumb fuck!

Between two attacks
from the franquistas,

we were always squabbling
about Trotsky.

Oh, okay, right...

You know who Trotsky is?

No, not really.

He lived here, in this house.

If none of that had happened,

Franco, Hitler,
the German-Soviet Pact,

if I hadn't gone into battle

with a Trotskyist on one side
and an anarchist on the other,

if I hadn't been penned like
an animal in a camp

with those Trotskyists
and anarchists,

maybe I'd think it made sense

to come so far to kill Trotsky.

They missed the first time.

They stabbed him in the head
with an ice axe to kill him.

Like they kill bulls.

It's scary.

What's scary?

That I might have been one of them.

Trotsky's murderers
fought against Franco too.

We may have fought
side by side in a trench.

What do I have in common
with them today?

CONCENTRATION CAMPS

Josep! Come, come see!

No, I don't want to.

Come on!
It's almost better than the original.

The book's going to be fantastic!

Add more ink.

It needs more body, more power.

Yes, señor Bartolí.

But, if we add ink,

we run the risk of losing
the detail in the strokes.

- It might bleed...
- That's how it was there:

black, white,

tough, violent.

Colour is everywhere.

We think a shadow is grey.

But, if we look,

if we really look,

really, really look,

the shadow of a flower, for instance,

is lilac,

violet,

purple blue.

And, in the sunlight,

flowers have silvery colours.

All those colours
give me the jitters.

You're full of jitters, dear Josep.

I don't think so.

Dad!

A letter for you!

Mum? What was she doing in Mexico?

The strokes in your drawings,

like the ones children draw,

don't exist in real life.

Life isn't made of strokes, outlines.

Life is made of colourful masses,
like little armies clashing,

or flavours in a dish,
completing each other...

Hurry up, I'm late.

...they attract and repel each other,

like impassioned lovers.

No, not that!

Grandpa gave it to me!

That awful thing's not going home!

It's a keepsake from grandpa!

You hide behind your strokes.

You're detached from your subject.

You draw caricatures because
what you've seen, what you remember,

scares you.

And, the day you finally
let colour in,

you'll have tamed your fear.