La passe du diable (1958) - full transcript

Some tragedies require a predestined land.

The tragic event
that's going to happen here,

only Afghanistan
could serve as a theater for.

Afghanistan,
bristled with giant mountains,

and yet the meeting point of Central Asia.

Afghanistan, marked by unnamed ruins,

haunted by the memories
of the first Aryan tribes,

of the phalanxes of Alexander the Great,
of the followers of Buddha,

of the warriors of Islam
and terrible hordes of Genghis Khan.

Here, legend mingles with reality

and the supernatural being
enters quite naturally into existence.



The devil's pass.

This Mongolian horseman who,
nowadays, rides across the Hindu Kush,

is arguably the pivotal character
of the tragedy that's about to begin.

Should one see a humble traveler
like those on afghan trails,

or rather an envoy of unknown powers?

The envoy of fate.

This rush, this attack, this clash,
is called the buzkashi.

The game is played by grabbing
a headless goat carcass.

And after dragging it across a vast area,
throwing it in the goal.

But the pack of rival horsemen,
called the chapandazes,

continuously badgers and attacks
the holder of the hairy carcass.

Mokhi!

Mokhi!

Mokhi is one of the best chapandaz.



Perhaps the best. Today, he is unlucky.

Rhalil, a loyal friend, leans over Mokhi.

"I can't move. My leg is dead."

Free of his most dangerous rival,

Uroz wins the buzkashi.

Among the wild crowd, the rider
in the black turban is impassive.

He's not looking at
the winner or defeated.

He's watching a child, Rahim,
Mokhi's little brother.

His body and pride hurt,

Mokhi no longer feels
the wooden and leather saddle.

It's a load for his friend's horse.

Mokhi's horse is taken back
by his little brother, Rahim.

His village friends
are laughing and singing,

and it's only justice.

People in these regions,
simple and tough men,

are not kind with misfortune or defeat.

In his yurt, Mokhi's father
is listening to the celebration.

Is it to salute his son's victory?

"Here's that son!"

"The giant, the champion!"

"The family's honor! Curses upon him!"

"The clumsy,
the incompetent, the disgraceful!"

In the village, the celebration resounds.
It sings the glory of Uroz, Mokhi's rival.

Uroz recognized Rahim,

but the child went past him
without looking at the champion.

Rahim is on his way to find
the only man that can heal Mokhi.

Under his yurt,
Mokhi can finally express his pain.

He won't participate
in the Royal Buzkashi in Kabul.

But here's the miracle man.

The healer that Rahim went to find.

The child leans on his big brother
for whom he has an admiration

and a passionate affection.

Feelings that are often hidden
in this harsh world.

Mokhi is hiding his sorrow.

"Take care of my horse."

Rahim obeys.

Before leaving the yurt,
he desperately glances at the healer.

The only hope for Mokhi to race
the buzkashi for the king's birthday

lies in the hands of this man.

In the village shared stables,

the grooms are celebrating Uroz's victory
and offer him a gun of honor.

But Rahim scorns these festivities.

All he thinks about
is healing his brother's horse.

It's his consolation, his pride.

"Bring those eggs to your brother."

The cheerful are on Uroz's side.

The child's hatred whets
against the old chapandaz.

If only he could avenge his brother!

But he's just a shepherd of the steppe
returning to his father's herds.

Herds that are the wealth
and glory of northern Afghanistan

because the fleece covering
these rams, sheep and lambs,

is called Astrakhan.
It's the best in the world.

Mokhi and Uroz's fathers

came to choose
one of the most valuable rams.

This one looks great.
The governor will be pleased.

Each year, in Maymana,
the capital city of the province,

the governor's giving a party
for the chapandazes

who'll then leave for Kabul
for the Royal Buzkashi.

The ram is used as a trophy for the party.

Across the hills,
where the fall works take place,

the chapandazes are headed for Maymana

to meet with the governor.

Farmers are greeting them along the road.

The chapandazes
are the pride of this people.

They are cheered, celebrated.

When they go through villages,
they are offered watermelons.

Rhalil never resists the temptation.

The chapandazes
who make up the province's team

receive from the governor of Maymana

the uniform they'll be wearing
before the king.

A silk jersey on which astrakhan skin
is sewn by way of a crest.

A feast follows
the presentation of the silk jerseys.

The governor invited,
along with the chapandazes,

the main public figures
dressed in their best chapans.

The guests do justice
to the meal's abundance.

Rice prepared in 20 different ways,
roast lamb, cheese curds,

jam with sheep's fat and beautiful fruits.

The governor must solve a problem.

Despite his fall, is Mokhi able
to compete in the Royal Buzkashi?

Rhalil fell asleep, overwhelmed with food.
He won't be able to defend his friend.

The governor decides
that Mokhi won't go to Kabul.

Another chapandaz will replace him.

He asks Uroz to tell Mokhi the news.

In the village,
children also have their party.

On donkeys,

they fight for a goat skin
in a parody of buzkashi.

Among the competitors,
Rahim's the fiercest, the most violent.

He has his brother's honor to avenge.

Mokhi recognized Uroz and his friends.

He knows they're bringing his verdict.

He must contain his impatience.

Dignity, politeness
and hospitality prevail above all.

"Bring the tea!"

At the children's buzkashi,
Rahim took the win.

As a reward,
he is offered a beautiful gray ram,

symbol of good luck.

"Your brother's going to be so glad
you won, Rahim."

Uroz announced the governor's decision.

"What? Mokhi can't go to Kabul
with the other chapandazes?"

"It's unfair."

This isn't the time, Rahim.

Mokhi doesn't care about a kid's buzkashi
when he's forbidden the Royal one!

Before he's out of the team,
Mokhi asks to take an official test.

He demands it!

Mokhi's judges are gathered.

The governor of the province,
village chiefs, tribal chiefs,

all are experienced men.

Younger, they were elite horsemen.
They will be severe and unforgiving.

Mokhi knows it.

In the whole audience,
only one person is as anxious as him,

it's Rahim.

"Mokhi, show us if your leg's healed."

"Show us your flexibility."

"Somebody slaughter a goat,"
asked one of the judges.

"Show us your strength."

"You're still a great chapandaz, Mokhi."

The governor declares
Mokhi's back in the team

and that he'll go to Kabul.

Rahim will also be a great chapandaz.

"If your dad allows it!"

Mokhi is about to leave for Kabul.

He will be away for weeks,
so as a goodbye,

he gives Rahim a buzkashi lesson.

Rahim is happy.

His older brother, his idol,
is teaching him how to become a champion.

"Aren't I a real chapandaz?" asks Rahim.

"You will be, if you listen to me."

Rahim dares to confess his dream.

"Take me to Kabul."

But the older brother
is too old for pipe dreams.

"Then I'll go by myself," says Rahim.

Mokhi's laugh
only strengthens the child's plan.

"I'll reach Kabul first."

"What about the money?"

"I'll find some."

Mokhi continues to mock him.

"Yeah, right! See you in Kabul then!"

See you in Kabul…

The rider in the black turban listens.

He knows how much destiny
uses the power of feelings

and the naivety of hearts to make its way.

The road from Maymana to Kabul
passes by the Mazar-i-Sharif mosque.

The crowd gathers around
Ali's shrine, the fourth caliph.

Muslims of all interpretations
worship this sanctuary of Central Asia.

Mokhi, Uroz and their friends

have stopped in front of the mosque
and are praying,

mingled with the mass of the faithful,
before heading towards the capital.

Devotions are complete.

As a final tribute to the sanctuary
and to earn the protection of saint Ali,

the horsemen go around the mosque.

The riders gather outside the city.

Through the mountains,
they'll start their long descent to Kabul.

Rahim made up his mind.

He will also go to Kabul.

To pay for his trip,
he will sell his gray ram.

He needs to find
the best buyer at the bazaar.

But the ram,
as if he guessed Rahim's plan,

wants to find his young master.

A village kid doesn't often see
so much abundance and wonders.

Here are the fur hats.

The most glorious headdress.
The cap of the greatest horsemen.

While the ram found
what attracts him most at the bazaar,

Rahim gathers all his money,
a few afghanis,

to buy the prestigious hat.

Rahim,

you already are
under the halo of the chapandaz.

Lost in the caravanserai,

in search of his young master,

the lucky ram disappeared.

And, in vain,

Rahim will look for him.

"My ram? Have you seen a big gray ram?"

Nobody's seen your ram, Rahim. Nobody.

Except perhaps for this smoker,
in the shade of the labyrinth,

eternal traveler who seems
to become attached to the child.

Look for your ram, Rahim.

It's not only him you're chasing after.

He was your luck, your home.

He was the yurt and the native steppe.

Near the bazaar, in a caravanserai,

two Bactrian camels are fighting.

In northern Afghanistan,

camel fighting
is the favorite national spectacle.

Rahim, captivated, blended into the crowd.

With the insouciance of his age,

he seems to have forgotten
his ram and his despair.

Rahim senses a presence close to him.

Perhaps this stranger found his ram?

"No. And it doesn't matter."

"What matters is that you go to Kabul."

"How could I go? I have no money left."

"Come with me. I'm going there too."

Once the fight was over,

Rahim followed the stranger
without hesitation.

Amazing children's trust.

What would he be afraid of?

Isn't this man an ordinary traveler

who discusses fiercely
the price of their trip?

Uroz and Mokhi are leading their group.

For now,

they have forgotten about their rivalry
and the trial that awaits them.

They're riding along
the fallen walls of a huge city.

Bactra, founded by the generals
of Alexander the Great,

formerly known as the Mother of cities.

Dust, ruins, dead civilizations,

craftsmen who are struggling
to extract the saltpeter,

this is what's left of a vast empire.

Do these rustic centaurs even know

that their own ancestors,
lead by Genghis Khan,

have turned Bactra
into this pile of debris?

Aboard the truck driving in the night,
Rahim's great adventure begins.

To travel from the northern steppes
to the central plateau where Kabul is,

one must cross the Hindu Kush,

a huge barrier of deserted mountains.

Everything's new to Rahim,
the shepherd boy of the steppes.

The world is such a vast,
beautiful and terrible place.

The rains of fall
have swollen the torrents.

The bridge broke under the raging waters.

For the truck to continue its journey,
it will take days of hard work.

The chief of the road menders
explains it to the travelers.

There are mountain paths,
but they are dangerous

and deserted.

One must be well equipped to face them.

Is Rahim going to miss
his rendezvous in Kabul?

No obstacles seem to worry
his odd companion.

Get your bag, Rahim.

The road will be long and difficult.

Through other narrow gorges,

Mokhi rides with the chapandazes.

Now, Rahim faces
the dreaded mountain on foot.

He must overcome fatigue,
he must overcome fear.

He must meet Mokhi.

At midday,
the horsemen reach the top of a pass.

Downhill, there is a valley.

And in this valley, stretches a line
of men and animals underway.

It's a caravan of nomads.
It belongs to a powerful warrior tribe

who lives on the border
of Afghanistan and India.

These untamable Pashtuns
resisted all invasions and all conquests.

They form the main race of the country.
The race of the kings.

The riders of the steppes,
men of another blood,

will inevitably run into the Pashtuns.

They will try to take the highest path.

The one taken by the nomads.

If one wants to be worthy of respect
and deserving of luck,

one must always take the ridge trails.

This belief is shared
by the Uzbeks and the Pashtuns.

Who will step aside?

A quarrel breaks out,
mixes and disperses the two groups.

Seriously outnumbered,
the chapandazes had to step aside.

That's a bad omen.

It is toward evening.

Rahim and his companion
arrive at a nomads' camp.

Presumably, the eternal wanderers
are proving to be hard-nosed

when their superstitions are at stake

and for the poorest,

the lost traveler's always a guest of God.

Such hospitality
gives confidence to Rahim.

He shows them his prestigious toy,
the chapandaz hat.

He reveals the purpose of his trip,
the Royal Buzkashi.

For the children around him,
Rahim is a great person.

The warmth of the tent is pleasant.

Rahim thinks about his yurt, his friends.

It's the same tea, the same laughs.

"What if we slept here?"

"Impossible."

"You have to go to Kabul. Remember."

For the first time,

Rahim feels overwhelmed
by a vague and heavy concern.

He seemed to hear in his companion's voice

an implacable accent.

He got scared of the inhuman expression
he thought he suddenly saw

on the merciless face.

To reach the other slope,

one must climb higher than 4 000 meters.

Rahim, the farmer boy, progresses slowly,

painfully, with heavy steps.

It's no longer with confidence

or friendship that he considers
the one preceding him.

Why did this ruthless man
take him under his protection?

Why is he leading him
into the harsh mountain

without rest nor pity?

Mokhi's path is without risk.

Each year,
the chapandazes repeat the same steps.

Think it through, Rahim.

There's still time.

Who is this tireless traveler
making the fire?

Where does he come from?
What does he want?

Despite the shared bread,

Rahim no longer feels safe
with the still-eyed man.

Maybe he saw, behind the human form,

an ageless face and a lifeless mask.

He then thinks of the name
of the traveler of solitudes.

Azrael. The angel of the last day.

For a second, Rahim understands
that this man cannot offer friendship

or help to anyone.

"I've had enough. I won't go any further."

"I want to go home, you hear me?"

"Answer me."

"I won't follow you anymore."

Rahim randomly walked
in terror and solitude.

On a steep peak, a city emerges.

Access is difficult,
but Rahim doesn't care.

He needs to find the presence,
the words and the life of men.

He must…

He must reach these walls.

He still can.
He must straighten up his destiny.

The city is the refuge.

Salvation.

He enters it.

Instead of human hustle and bustle,

he only finds a deserted
and quiet heap of rubble.

The Red City.

Genghis Khan besieged it.

One of his grandsons
was killed during battle.

So when the Mongol took the citadel,
he didn't let one single person live.

Everything was destroyed.

Since then, the Red City has been silent,

except for the wind's complaint

and nothing has moved,
except for the crumbling stone.

Azrael!

Azrael!

Azrael!

Azrael!

The one Rahim wanted to escape from
opened his arms to the frightened child.

Azrael knows how vain the rebellion is,

and how peace becomes easy
for the one surrendering to his destiny.

Sleep tight, Rahim.

Now, all is written.

I bow down before your majesty, Lord.

I am annihilated by your power.

I don't even know I exist
when I pronounce your name.

The prayer is the same
for the tough horsemen.

After a long walk,

Azrael and Rahim
arrive at the edge of a plateau.

3 000 meters away,
they discover a paradise.

Beneath their feet, cut into the rock,
giant buddhas watch over the valley.

These colossal statues have seen an influx
of pilgrims about 20 centuries ago.

For the monks,
12 000 cells were dug into the cliff,

linked together
by a labyrinth of corridors and caves.

Historically, the Bamyan Valley
is a pathway from the Mongolian steppes

to the heart of Afghanistan.

Mokhi and his companions
have to follow it.

The same goes for Azrael and Rahim.

While Rahim and his guide
come down through the paths and caves,

the horsemen come from
the end of the valley, from the village.

Rahim calls to his older brother.

Mokhi, both near and far,
is going to continue his journey.

"Why hurry, Rahim?"

"Time is already written
when you'll reunite with your brother."

Mokhi!

Happiness,

the dream one thought he grasped,

is getting away.

Azrael!

"Come quick!"

"You no longer need me."

"I'm tired. I have no money."

"Have no fear. Hit the road."

Rahim walked straight ahead,
on the main road to Kabul,

but there are still many leagues to walk.

Rahim is exhausted.
He can't go on anymore.

His fatigue is so intense
that he idly welcomes a miracle.

An enchanting car,
like he's never seen before, stops.

"Where are you going?"

"To Kabul."

"Get in. I'll drive you there."

The man is a high official of the court.

The car belongs to the sovereign.

The little shepherd

is now heading towards the capital
in one of the king's car.

The prayer banners

flutter over the strange tomb
where a great Saint lies.

May he be in favor of the chapandazes.

This is their last stop before Kabul.

The royal car
slides through the Asian night.

Rahim is going to meet Mokhi.

He escaped the power of Azrael.

The chapandazes descending the mountains

finally discover Kabul
behind its great walls.

Kabul, the big city, the king's city.

But it's not time yet to enter it.

The cannon will announce
when to rally for the solemn parade.

The riders of Maymana are getting ready.

They put their ceremonial silk jerseys on,
dedicated for the Royal Buzkashi.

They must honor their province.

Now the long journey is over,

the great city is like a prey
for the Mongolian horsemen.

The elders tell the young
about the marvels of the capital.

They must look their best.

"Oh, Tursen! Oh, patriarch!"

"Even you want to be worthy of the event!"

"What's in that powder you like?"

While the chapandazes hasten,

the royal car passes by the field

where the championship
is going to take place tomorrow.

Rahim discovers a new world.

Trees, an asphalt road,

two-wheeled hansom cab called gadi.

Indeed, Kabul is surprising
for the farmer boy.

Russian buses are found alongside caravans

and wide asphalt avenues
have ripped open old bazaars.

But in the renewed streets of Kabul,

Islam's rigor still prevails.

Women walk,
same as they did centuries ago,

covered with the traditional chadri.

Even veiled like this,

women are not allowed
to attend a public show.

None of them can follow the crowd
gathering for the great parade.

Lead by an officer,
prince of the royal blood,

the chapandazes of the three provinces
are solemnly entering the city.

The car stops in front of the royal palace
during the changing of the guard.

Rahim has arrived.

His heart brims with joy and gratitude.

He has some afghanis left.

"No, Rahim.
His Majesty the King offers you the trip."

Rahim is alone
in this big unfamiliar city.

For a second,
he feels distraught and scared.

But a cheerful music reaches him.

Mokhi!

Mokhi!

Mokhi!

This dream was all true!

Marching through Kabul with Mokhi,
with the chapandazes!

The chapandazes reach the camp
the king prepared for them.

Each team has its podium
and its parade tent.

Here, the chapandazes of Mazar-i-Sharif
with green jackets and purple pants.

There, those of the Qataghan province,
with striped chapans.

Finally, the riders of Maymana,
with brown silk jerseys.

Rahim feels like a real chapandaz now.

In the camp, he's at home.

Racing through Kabul's dust
made him thirsty.

He walks with a firm step towards
the goatskin filled with freshwater.

But here comes Uroz.
The man of traditions.

He couldn't do anything
when Mokhi took Rahim on his horse.

Now he bursts out in anger.

That insolent kid
won't drink from their goatskin!

He can't do as he pleases
just because he's Mokhi's brother!

The chapandaz heard his name,
he walks towards Uroz.

"Don't touch my brother!"

"Who's going to stop me?"

The rival team's laughing at them.

They're glad to see
the two champions come to blows.

It's time for the referee to step in.

"Uroz is right.
This is no place for a child."

Rahim takes refuge at the far end
of the camp, among the horses.

Rahim!

But the grooms chase him away too.

They are not baby-sitters.

In the festive city,
Rahim found his way to the stadium

where, on the eve of the buzkashi,
the traditional games are held.

The violence of the show captivates Rahim.

The first day of celebration is over.

Men return to work
and in the old quarter of Kabul,

craftsmen work hard
at their eternal occupations.

Rahim walks past them.

The party's over for him too.

He might be in Kabul, but he's alone.

Cast out, humiliated, and because of him,

Mokhi's honor has been damaged.

All the Afghans,
children or elders, like weapons,

even the ordinary ones.

Is it just this that pushes Rahim to stop,

fascinated by this display,

which inspired him a more specific desire?

He doesn't know
what feeling is driving him,

but he needs that knife.

Rahim wasn't fast and dextrous enough.

The whole pack's after him.

They're going to get him.

But luck is on his side.

Or rather gluttony.

The scattered cakes saved Rahim.

But he doesn't feel safe yet.

He's looking for a better hideout.

Now, he's the one scaring the others.

At the chapandazes' camp,
it's the night before combat.

Those of Mazar-i-Sharif are confident.

But the horsemen of Maymana are uneasy.

The quarrel of their champion
isn't auspicious.

Mokhi wasn't seen alongside Uroz.

The night will be long
for the chapandazes.

The night is long for Rahim.

He's roaming the foreigners' bazaar.

Rahim is alone,

cast out,

away from Mokhi.

He's looking for a place to sleep.

Rahim feels like a lost dog.

It's all Uroz's fault!

Musicians can play,

they won't soften the child's heart.

Tomorrow is the big day.

On the field of Bagrami,
the chapandazes are ready.

The teams stare at each other.

Uroz tells Mokhi, "I have a spare horse,
you don't, if needed take mine."

Mokhi's not the only one
to hear these words.

Why is he here, nearby,

Rahim's mysterious companion?

The traveler of solitudes.

Whom has he come to inform
of the end of his destiny?

Saddle up, chapandazes!

Here's Zahir Shah, king of Afghanistan.

The sovereign before whom you will fight.

The victory banner the horsemen
of Mazar-i-Sharif took home last year

is given to an officer.

Each team vows
to deserve the trophy's glory.

Around the beheaded animal,

the chapandazes are taking place.

The crowd shudders on the hills.

The Royal Buzkashi has begun!

It was necessary to maintain
century after century

men accustomed to equestrian stunts,

insensitive to blows and hazards,

and horses of unshakable
endurance and courage

for the game of Genghis Khan's warriors,

the wild and splendid game of the steppes,

to happen nowadays
on the high plateau of Kabul.

Mokhi!

But Rahim's too far
to really see the fight.

He must go down the hills
through the crowd.

The child gets to
where the grooms are waiting.

Where are kept
the spare horses and the ambulance.

Whom this one just left for?

Rahim doesn't know.

He sees two of Uroz's friends
quench their thirst.

Uroz… The enemy
whose spare horse is right there,

behind the truck. The child knows it well.

The great buzkashi horses
are as famous as their riders.

Uroz is wealthy enough to own two mounts.

That's an intolerable advantage on Mokhi.

He must not
return victorious to the village.

A cut off strap.

"You'll see, Uroz,
how insults are paid for!"

Rahim may as well be cast out,
he doesn't care anymore.

Because of that, he doesn't see
who came back in the ambulance.

Mokhi is safe and sound.
Only his horse was wounded.

If he accepted to ride in the ambulance,

it was to get to the spare mounts faster.

Mokhi will take Uroz's horse.

Rahim, who knows nothing
of the deal Mokhi made with Uroz,

sees in astonishment and horror

Mokhi return to the skirmish
on the horse whose strap's cut off.

"Stop! Mokhi!"

But Mokhi can't hear him.

Mokhi!

The strap on Uroz's horse withstood.
Mokhi is the winner!

He doesn't know about Rahim's fate.
The euphoria of victory erupts.

The eyes of the traveler of solitudes

lay on the two brothers.

The destinies are fulfilled.

The crowd passes through the graves.

The great dust of Asia covers the past

and veils the future.

THE END

Subtitle translation by: Lucie Monteau