Luz nos Trópicos (2020) Movie Script

And there was dawn,

Mavutsinim created the world.

The clouds drew messages,

and the night became day.

Mavutsinim said

that the beings would be eternal.

Created the man and the woman.

Said that the fishes

would sprout from the rocks

and would become water,

and rivers,

rapids.

Would become

sea,

wind,

storm,

air.

And twelve moons would pass,

and Mavutsinim determined

that his son would come back

to the promised land

where the men are eternal,

and hence the history of the world.

LIGHT IN THE TROPICS

There's not much firewood.

The weather is dry,

the earth is thirsty.

The harvest

will be smaller this year.

We wake up early in the village.

Then, after bathing,

we eat manioc and fish,

and go to harvest the manioc.

Our days are like this,

even on a full moon.

It's almost ready.

It's going to be good.

Look. This is how we work,

we light the fire with this.

Atuginha.

-Atuginha?

-Yes. Try it.

Yes, to fan the flames

and keep it alive.

-Atuginha.

-That's right.

Is it true?

I like it, you're learning.

These are our everyday things.

Here we make beiju.

-Tuahi.

-What?

Yes.

And this is angagi,

where we put the food

and it gets hot.

Exactly. That there, pass it to me.

-It's really very good.

-You're remembering...

-Angari.

-Angari?

Angari.

Say it with me.

Repeat...

Udagi, udagi.

U-da-gi.

Look at the stools

we're sitting on. Kadoho.

Kadoho.

Yes.

Want more?

Finished?

Is it good? Stay with us.

And this,

do you remember the name?

Do you know the name of this?

Do I know?

Kanagitahu.

Nagitahu.

Wrong.

Wrong, I understand.

You'll remember.

Water?

Back there.

Yes.

Look there in that pot.

This is porridge, drink it.

Porridge.

-Very good.

-That's good.

-Lisinh? hegei itit?.

-What?

Delicious.

Yes, this is really good.

It's made from manioc flour.

I liked it.

What are you doing?

I'm cutting a little more.

It's looking good.

Almost done.

Just here where it's longer.

Done.

Just this last lock.

I'm going to take the hair

off your face.

Now you're going to look beautiful.

What are we going to do?

We're really happy

to have you here with us.

-I also feel welcomed.

-That's good.

I came here so that we could talk.

Let's talk.

-I have few memories.

-I know.

I came from so far,

a cold and chaotic land.

You came from very far.

Listen to my grandfather's words.

I want to hear.

Your eyes are my eyes.

Your mouth is my mouth.

My shadow is in your shadow.

Your words are mine.

I liked the message.

Me too.

Many memories.

It's hot.

Very hot.

Yes.

Let's do the patterns here.

Ok.

So we can celebrate.

We're almost done.

You're looking very beautiful.

-Very good.

-Yes, you're very beautiful.

You'll look beautiful with urucum.

-Very good.

-Really good.

Embellish and sing.

Just this part at the back.

Life took me under its wing

to keep me and save me.

And it's true

I avoided the shipwreck,

yet I want more.

Without burnt leaves,

without broken branches,

a day as clean as glass,

yet I want more.

Now that summer's gone...

The journey remains in my mind

like a confused nightmare.

The passengers were preoccupied

neither with our position,

nor with the route

we had to follow,

nor with the nature

of the countries

which lay out of sight

behind the horizon.

For a number of days

that had been decided in advance,

it was not because a distance

had to be covered,

but because

they had to expiate the privilege

of being carried from one side

of the world to the other

without making, themselves,

the smallest exertion.

I'm passionate and full of desires.

Full of...

I'm a lover, lover...

I'm like a lover.

The last...

I'm passionate and full of hope.

For...

For the last smile.

For the first smile.

And that's how

I was brought up as an athlete.

And that's how

I was brought up as an athlete.

(The first smile of a beauty)

In all this splendour

gnawing at my feet in vain.

Naked, strong,

forehead plunged into the mist.

Shrouded in the mist,

the wind,

and in the night that intertwine.

I raise my arms

towards the dark ether.

In my opinion,

there are various

interrelated questions.

Therefore,

the question I ask myself today,

that I wish to speak of now,

is the following...

The first point

is an apparent contradiction...

Understand? Apparent!

Between

Hyppolite's thought

that "there is no error

in philosophy",

and Canguilhem's proposition,

"there is no philosophical truth".

In fact,

Hyppolite's proposition

was interpreted by some

as "the philosopher never errs".

I don't believe it was exactly this

that he wished to say.

The second question

is regarding

Canguilhem's elucidation.

And the third question,

that for me underlies the others,

relates to the philosophical

enterprise.

What does it mean to philosophize?

These questions are related.

I don't think they can be separated,

don't you think?

What do you think?

Your explanation is agreeable.

In what sense?

In the sense of...

the stars.

Apparently philosophy

does not interest you.

He comes.

Silently.

Doubtless he needs something.

He looks at us.

All we could find on the river's edge

were four or five deserted huts.

Not a soul to be seen.

And a rapid inspection satisfied us

that the hamlet

had been abandoned.

Our nerves were in shreds after

the efforts of the previous few days,

we felt near to despair.

Should we give the whole thing up?

We decided to make a last effort

before turning back,

each of us would start off

in a different direction

and explore the outskirts.

In the afternoon,

everyone returned discouraged.

They'd gone soft:

he-abed mornings, to begin with,

and indolent meals

which had long ceased

to be a pleasure

and were now merely a device

(and one that had to be made

to last as long as possible)

for getting through the day.

Don't ask me who I am

Because I won't say that

I only know that where I am going

Love will go with me

And with courage

I have changed my luck

Today I'm going towards life

Before I was going towards death

When I asked for justice

They did not give it to me

When I wanted to love

Nobody loved me

When I formed a nest

In betrayal, they burned it

When I prayed to Christ

My prayers were not answered

Don't ask me who I am

Because I won't say that

I only know that where I am going

Love will go with me

And with courage

I have changed my luck

Today I'm going...

Towards life

Today I'm going towards life

Before I was going

Towards death

The Pleiades can be seen

by the naked eye.

I once counted 14 stars going out

in a single night.

They are brighter stars.

And they are among the objects

of the deep sky

known of since the distant past.

Look.

The nebulae of the Pleiades

are blue.

Nebulae of reflection,

that reflect the light

from the closest stars.

The world began without man.

And will end without him.

Light in the tropics.

What impedes man

from attaining happiness

is not his nature,

but the artifices of civilization.

I shall have occasion

to describe trips

that I remember better

than the one in question.

I shall therefore say only

that it took us eight days

to work our way upstream,

the river being swollen by the rains.

Once, when we were lunching

on a little sandbank,

we heard the rustling movement...

of a boa, seven yards long,

that we had awakened

with our talk.

It took a lot of lead to kill it,

for the boa cares nothing

for body-wounds.

The head alone is vulnerable.

When we came to skin it,

took us half a day,

we found a dozen little boas

already alive

and on the point of being born;

the sun killed them off.

Ow! Fuck!

To left and right

were clumps of shrubs

spaced out as if in an orchard.

At a distance

they formed into dark masses,

while the sky,

reflected in the water,

projected here and there

its own likeness beneath the branches.

Everything seemed

to be simmering at a low heat,

it was a stew that would take

a long time to mature.

If it was possible to linger

for thousands of years

in this prehistoric landscape

and to follow

its evolution closely,

we should, no doubt, witness

the transformation of organic matter

into peat, or coal, or petrol.

I even thought that I saw

some petrol rising to the surface,

staining the water

with its delicate iridescence.

And in the beginning God

created the sky

And in the beginning God

created the Earth

Yet the Earth was chaos

And darkness dominated all

Then God's finger

made light

Then God's finger made man

Then God's finger

made the one who seduces

And the world grew?

And the world grew

Everything changed

and someone asked

Did God change?

Or did we change our god?

Did God change?

Or did we change our god?

Might the one who created the sky

Be the one who'll destroy Earth?

Might the one who created light

(from shadow)

Be the one who'll destroy Earth

(with the bomb)?

Because for the bomb to explode

Someone has to press the button

Might it be man?

Might it be woman?

Might they press the button

whenever they wish?

What will the finger be like

of the one who presses the button?

What will the finger be like

of the one who presses the...

Listen...

to the sound of nature.

Listen...

the noise

of nature.

Listen to it.

The noises

of nature.

Did you sleep well?

Not at all.

Did you sleep well, sir?

Not at all. Not at all.

It's not tiredness.

I don't feel tired.

Despite the oppressive heat.

I feel like a harnessed horse.

Thank you.

Do you wish to leave?

Or to stay here?

It's not that I want

to stay here either.

I had heard...

I must have heard tell of the view,

the distant sea, in the background,

in hammered lead.

The so-called golden vale

so often sung.

The double valleys,

the glacial loughs,

the city in its haze.

It was all on every tongue.

Anyway...

who are these people?

Who are you all?

Did they follow me up here?

Came before me, came with me?

The sound of nature.

I'm down in the hole

the centuries have dug.

Celtic beliefs

that the souls

of those whom we have lost...

In an animal, in a vegetable,

in an inanimate thing...

In an animal, in a vegetable,

in an inanimate thing

and so effectively lost

to us.

Which, to many never comes,

when we happen to pass by the tree

and obtain possession

of the object

which forms their prison.

And obtain possession

of the object

which forms...

In an inferior being,

in an animal,

in a vegetable,

in an inanimate thing.

In an inferior being,

in an animal,

in a vegetable,

in an inanimate thing.

And in the midst of the storm,

he reaches God.

Don't ask me who I am

Because I won't say that

I only know that where I am going

Love will go with me

And with courage

I have changed my luck

Today I'm going towards life

Before I was going towards death

Then a man appeared

during that night

and he talked about the Sun,

and the Sun appeared.

Talked about the Moon,

and the Moon appeared.

And then the Earth.

And made the water

with the fish that everyone eats,

did the forests

and filled it with animals to hunt.

So he got the clay

and made a boy.

And when he grew up,

while that child was asleep,

he took away two ribs

and made a girl.

Your eyes are my eyes.

Your mouth is my mouth.

My shadow is in your shadow.

Your words are mine.

When he woke up,

he saw the girl next to him

and said:

"Look, there's a girl here."

And then the son of God said:

"This girl is for you to raise,

but don't mess with her."

But the boy liked the girl,

and they fell in love.

Could play with the clay

and create living beings.

And the girl created animals,

plants and asteroids,

and whatever she thought of,

happened.

And so the days went by

until the last living beings of Earth

were extinguished.

Only Indians, black, poor, sick,

children and the old were left.

And the living beings would have

to learn everything again

or else only air and wind would be left,

and some shooting stars.

And that's how

I was brought up as an athlete.

Love...

in all its greatness.

Total love in time.

Naked, strong,

forehead plunged into the mist...

Love...

Profane love...

Shrouded in the mist,

the wind,

and in the night that intertwine.

I raise my arms

towards the dark ether.

Daybreak is a prelude,

and nightfall an overture,

but an overture which comes at the end,

and not at the beginning.

The look of the sun

foretells what

the next hours will bring,

dark and livid, that is to say,

if we are in for a wet morning,

and pink, frothy,

and insubstantial.

But as to the rest of the day,

the dawn makes no promises.

It simply sets the meteorological stage

and adds a direction:

it will rain

or it will be good weather.

The sunset, on the other hand,

is a complete performance

with a beginning, middle, and end.

A synopsis

of all that has happened -

fighting, triumphs and defeats -

during the previous 12 hours tangibly,

but very slowly.

Dawn is simply the day's beginning.

Sunset, the day run through again.

That is why people

pay more attention to sunset

than to sunrise.

Dawn merely adds a footnote

to what they have already learnt

from barometer

and thermometer or,

in the case of the less civilized,

from the phases of the moon,

the flight of birds,

and the oscillations of the tide.

Remembrance is a source

of profound pleasure,

though not to the extent

that it is complete,

for few would wish to live over again,

literally, sufferings

and exhaustions which are, nonetheless,

a pleasure to look back upon.

Remembrance is life itself,

but it has another quality.

And so

it is that when the sun lowers itself

towards the polished surface

of a flat calm at sea

like a coin thrown down

by a miser in the heavens,

or when its disc

outlines the mountain-tops

like a metal sheet

at once hard and lacy,

then man has a brief vision,

a hallucination,

a brief vision, a hallucination,

one might say, of the indecipherable

forces, the vapours

and fulgurations

whose obscure conflicts he has glimpsed

vaguely, within the depths of himself,

from time to time during the day.

These inner spiritual struggles

must have been sinister indeed,

for the day

had not been marked

by any outward event

that might have justified

an atmospheric upheaval.

It had, indeed, been featureless.

Around four in the afternoon,

just at that moment

when the sun is half-way through

and is becoming less distinct,

though not, as yet, less brilliant,

and the thick

golden light pours down

as if to mask

certain preliminaries.

A light swell had set her rolling.

Nobody had paid

any attention to it,

for nothing is so much like

a transfer in geometry

as a passage on the high seas.

There is no landscape

to point up the transition

from one latitude to the next,

or the crossing of an isotherm

or a pluviometric curve.

Thirty miles on dry land

can make us feel

that we have changed planets.

But, to the inexperienced eye,

each of the three thousand miles at sea

is much like the last.

To the scholars,

dawn and twilight

are one and the same phenomenon.

And the Greeks thought the same,

since they used the same word for both,

qualifying it differently

according to whether morning

or evening was in question.

This confusion is an excellent

illustration of our tendency

to put theory first

and take no account

of the practical aspect of the matter.

Between the zone

of incidence of the sun's rays

and the zone in which

the light vanishes or returns,

it is perfectly possible.

No two things could be more different

than morning and evening.

Daybreak is a prelude,

and nightfall an overture,

but an overture which comes at the end,

and not, as in most operas,

at the beginning.

The look of the sun foretells

what the next hours will bring,

dark and livid, that's to say,

if we are in for a wet morning,

and pink, frothy, and insubstantial

if the weather is to be fine.

But as to the rest of the day,

the dawn makes no promises.

It simply sets the meteorological stage,

and adds a direction:

it will rain

or it will be good weather.

The sunset, on the other hand,

is a complete performance

with a beginning, middle, and end.

It will rain

or it will be good weather.

The sunset, on the other hand,

is a complete performance

with a beginning, middle, and end.

A synopsis

of all that has happened -

fighting, triumphs and defeats -

during the previous 12 hours tangibly,

but very slowly.

Dawn is simply the day's beginning.

Sunset, the day run through again.

That is why people

pay more attention to sunset

than to sunrise.

Dawn merely adds a footnote

to what they have already learnt

from barometer

and thermometer or,

in the case of the less civilized,

from the phases of the moon,

the flight of birds,

and the oscillations of the tide.

And the oscillations of the tide.

Whereas a sunset

reunites within

its mysterious configurations

the twists and turns

of wind and rain,

heat and cold.

And the oscillations of the tide.

Whereas a sunset

reunites within

its mysterious configurations

the twists and turns

of wind and rain,

heat and cold,

to which their physical being

has been exposed.

And in the night that intertwine.

Shrouded in the mist,

the wind

and in the night that intertwine.

I raise my arms

towards the dark ether.

Luz nos Trópicos (2020) - full transcript