Morir... dormir... tal vez soñar (1976) - full transcript

To die... To sleep...
Perchance to Dream...

I do not know where I was
when I felt the desire to return

to this neighbourhood
far from the city.

Nor do know
when it was born in my soul.

I know it arose suddenly.

As if I had woken from a dream

that would have dragged me
to this place.

Not an instant at night,

nor a day in time.

But days and nights,

months and years.



A lifetime maybe.

And I have returned,
eager to contemplate

the tall trees of this garden again.

To walk through the heavy
iron door that defends it

and move down the path
of crunching gravel

bordered by grass and flowers,

towards the old house
which stands out against the foliage.

Now, by doing so,

I feel as if the dream
would shatter into pieces,

make sense of the fantasy

and the illusion
bring outlines of memory.

This tree was planted
on February 12 1915,

when Juan turned five.

Juan?



My name is not Juan.

Yes, my name is Juan, but...

Am I that Juan for whom
one day they planted this tree?

Did Juan look at these treetops
as I do now,

older than the one that marked
the date of his life,

stretching up on tiptoe,

in a crazy attempt
to conquer his height?

Didn't that little Juan
always think as I did

that heaven is as high as a grain
of sand, as humble grass,

as air that cuts
a swallow's wing,

or the flickering of a star?

Did not Juan know,
as I did since a child,

that everything is heaven,
from the earth to God?

Yes.

That little Juan must have thought of it.
Because every minute, in my soul,

memory's truth is greater
than dream's illusion.

Because, like dawn,
shadow brings me light.

And I am certain I have seen
other distant nights

from this same grass,

towards that same sky
that silhouettes the trees.

And of having gone, as I go now,

towards the old house many times,

some with illusion
and at others with tears.

The house was built in 1915.

When Juan,

turned five years old.

I want to enter.

For the first time perhaps?

Not for the first time.

To re-enter.

Can a memory become truth,
but not in a dream?

And I remember that chair

in which I believe I saw
a tall woman,

sweet and blonde
like a golden shadow.

A woman who was my mother.

How I remember a piano
that is now missing.

And a music that does not
fill the house with harmony.

Carmen's music.

In this hall
the walls were clean.

But, were they always?

Didn't I contemplate again, in
a distant time, this flowery wallpaper?

Yes.

I am certain.

At a time when they grew,
Juan and the tree.

I am not living a dream.

Tonight,

I don't know which memories
or paths of the soul

have led me home.

Will you let me stop it, dad?
No, son.

You can't reach it.

Last night I grew up lots,
mum told me this morning.

But you still can't reach it.
We'll see in a few days.

Dad, what are the heavens?

Dad, can't you hear me?

Yes.

What were you saying?
- I want to know what the heavens are.

Heavens, of course.

So, you see, the heavens are

where the stars,
the Sun and the Moon are.

No, not that, dad.
I mean heaven.

The one in my book.

This one in my book.

Oh, yes,
the one in your book.

Heaven, of course.
Well you see, son...

I understand.

Heaven...

Look, we could say...

Look who's here.
- Uncle Antonio!

Uncle Antonio!

Uncle Antonio!

He's coming, dad!
- Yes.

This time we'll finish
with France.

What a beating
we're giving those frogs!

Hello, nephew!

Know what? In a few days I'll take you
to Berlin to know the capital of the world.

Don't talk nonsense. - It's not nonsense.
The Germans have destroyed the front.

They try to, which is
not the same thing.

Dad, Heaven!
- Ah, son, that's right.

Well, Heaven...
Here it is.

Never mind trying,
they did it.

The German artillery blows
all Verdun away. Terrific.

More than a thousand cannons firing
over the frontline day and night.

Dad, what is Heaven?
- Can you imagine what it's like, Carlos?

Naturally.
- You can't imagine.

100 cannons per kilometre,

which is
a cannon every ten metres.

Less of that, Antonio.
- Dad, Heaven!

Besides, the French aren't fools
to respond with cannons.

The 75 is the best cannon that exists.

And it's French.
Verdun will resist.

Hello, Antonio.
- Hello, Eulalia.

Your husband is...

You're both crazy.

What are you doing there?
- I asked dad

what Heaven is,
but he hasn't told me yet.

Parents don't answer to children
who climb on chairs.

Come on.

You say that Verdun will resist
but I tell you, it will fall.

Like Namur, Liege
and Antwerp did before.

France only knows
about perfumes and fashion.

Don't underestimate France.

Remember the Marne.
- That wasn't France's victory,

but a German mistake
and they won't make that again.

When will you stop
arguing about the war?

What do we Spaniards,
care if the French,

Germans or Russians win?

Come on, how can you understand?
War is a man's business, Eulalia.

And men, as far as I understand,
are children of women.

And women prefer music.

Are you staying for dinner?
- No, I can't today.

We'll expect you
for Sunday lunch then.

Yes, I'll come on Sunday.

Well...

we'll celebrate the fall of Verdun.
- Verdun will not fall.

Germany will win the war.
- The Allies will win.

God will help France.
- Has he been mobilized too?

I'm not saying that.
I say that if God took up arms,

he would do so for France.

If God took up arms for France,
or for any other country,

he would cease to be God.

We're a little low on salt.
- Yes, ma'am?

Did you want something, Juanito?

I want to know what heaven is.

Heaven?
- Yes, with saints, good people.

The one from this book.

Well...
heaven is...

The place of eternal happiness.

And what's happiness?

Happiness?

Happiness is...

Peace...

love...

and...

I don't know.

Your father and I are happiness.
See how simple it is?

So dad and you are Heaven?

Is that all Heaven is?

No, son.
Heaven...

Heaven is something more.
Heaven... I'll tell you later.

Remind me, Herminia, that on Sunday
my brother comes to lunch.

You know he can't eat
spicy or highly seasoned food.

How unfortunate
Mr. Antonio is, madam.

Such a good person,
and with that horrible disease.

What's that horrible thing
that happens to uncle Antonio?

Go back to the living room.

But I want...
- The kitchen is no place for you.

But I want to know what Heaven is.
- Your father will tell you, go, run.

Are you sure?
- Sure! Fathers know everything.

I don't think he knows either.
Dad, dad!

Mum says you're
to tell me what heaven is!

I have returned in such a hurry that
nothing has changed since I was here.

The same peace.

The same warm breath of a home,
unhurried and with love,

that I found on my recent return,

when my soul thirsted to enjoy
the glory of those already distant days.

Everything is as it was then.

The light shines upon the diary
where my mother noted all the accounts

and there are little Juan's books
who asked about a Heaven

he already lived in
without realising.

There is only one thing new.

Yes. That strange brass vase.

But no, it's not a vase.

It is a 75 French cartridge case.

Verdun, June 1916.

They shall not pass.

Why this bit of war
in a world of peace?

Potatoes, 50 centimos.

Beef,

three pesetas.

Dad, How many kilos
does a quintal have?

Well...

a quintal has

four arrobas.

An arroba is
11 kilos and 500 grams.

Provided that they are
Castilian arrobas.

If they are Catalan,
they will weight less.

You have only to multiply
11 kilos and 500 grams by four

and you will have the result in kilos.
Is that clear, Juanito?

Yes, dad.

Today is a great day, Eulalia.
- Yes.

Now that the war is over

we could change
this vase for another one.

Sorry, but I've always
found it horrible.

Later on.
- Alright.

Paris has gone crazy
with the victory.

In the streets, people kiss
without knowing one other

and the florists come out to cover
the returning soldiers with flowers.

If your brother was alive

today he would have
been quite fearful.

Poor Antonio.
- Yes.

Despite the life he led

I wound him up for many years.

But the women took care of...
- Carlos!

How's things, Juanito?
- Fine, dad.

Please, ma'am,
the girl doesn't want to eat.

Can you help me?
- Wait a minute, Herminia.

What's wrong with
my little Carmencita?

Today is a very happy day, son.

The war is over.
- Dad, can you give me that shell?

No, son, we must
keep it as a souvenir.

Because today is the most momentous
date in the history of the world.

The war is over and you,
when you are a man,

you will live in a world of peace.

In a world without
hatred or grudges.

In which there will
never be another war,

because from this day on,
all men will be brothers.

What is the night afraid of?

And why does the air tremble?

And why are the windows
crossed with strips of paper?

And why are they dark?

Have I have taken
too long to return,

or is it that nobody
lives in the house anymore?

Yes.

In the office there is a soft light.

In what was an office,

but now is a bedroom.

Why this change?

And why do the strips of paper
keep crossing the windows?

Is there a war?

It's not possible.

My father told me one night long ago
that there would never be war.

There is intense fighting
on all battle fronts.

The war continues...

Juan!
- Yes?

Leave that music,
I love it.

Leave it, my love.

Why don't you come?
- Wait!

I can't. With this music
I desire you more.

Either you come, or I go.

Luisa!

If you don't want...!

No. First we'll toast the most
important moment of our lives

and that you seem
to have forgotten.

We have been married one day

15 hours and six minutes.
- Exactly.

To our old love.

To our old love.

Like the Tsar's Cossacks!

Like the Tsar's Cossacks!

Life, to Luisa!
- Life, to Juan!

Don't be afraid.

No.

Until now they've never
bombed the neighbourhood,

but if you want, let's go to the shelter.
- No, I prefer it by your side,

to continue our loving, my love.

The Moon is beautiful, Juan.

I love its light.

My mother said that those
who fall asleep looking at her

go quite crazy.

Are we crazy, Juan?

Yes. We're crazy.

Because we got married
in the middle of the war?

On the contrary.

For not having done it sooner.
- I love this madness.

They're getting closer.

Now, are you afraid?

No,
quite the opposite.

It would be beautiful to die right now,
you holding me in your arms,

made one in the most
beautiful moment of my life.

We have all the time
in the world.

Remember, we only started yesterday.

But you'll be back at
the front in three weeks.

The war will end before that.

And if it's not?

What if they kill you

and I am left alone?

No, Luisa.

Now it is certain to end.

Don't you understand
that this is the end?

Who knows?

Juan...

If we both die tonight?
- How?

In the most beautiful way,

in an infinite kiss.

One, only one.

A single, sweet kiss of death.

A very good idea.

Till death.

How was it?

Once more?

It'll be best.

Will our children believe us
when we tell them

that on a night like this
we didn't move from the bed?

Our children?
But we have no child.

Maybe because
we were married yesterday.

These things take time.
Months sometimes.

Seriously, Juan,

we're at war.
I want a child of our love.

Solomon said
something about some doves.

Doves will fly
to bring us a child.

A child of yours, Juan.

The garden was always
beautiful in the fall.

Maybe a little sad

because on the trees only
their bare branches remain

and the ground
covered with dry leaves.

I remember the wind blowing them
in golden eddies up to this side,

which was then for me like
a remote place where the house ended

and that they crunched when you stepped
on them, as if they were complaining.

But the heart

does not know of this pain
when it is a child.

And then I was a child,

a troubled creature
seeking love.

Good morning, Señorito Juan.
- Hello, Margarita.

Oh! Hold on, Señorito Juan.

you risk your life without knowing it.
Hold on, I'm going to go higher.

But give me your word not to look up,
you might even see America.

I'm not wearing anything.

You haven't looked, have you?
- No.

You have
the word of a king, son.

I don't know how there
are women who use this.

I'm as my mother gave birth to me.

Your shirt's stained!

It won't come out.
- No.

I'll wash it for you
before your mother comes.

Your shirt, Señorito Juan!
Come on.

Excuse me for
taking my hat off, sir,

but in summer
everything suffocates me.

If you weren't here,
I wouldn't even be wearing this.

But respect is respect.

Don't stop there.

Will you give me your shirt?
- Yes.

Careful,
you'll lose the button!

Leave it to me.

This overall is really annoying.

You are already a man, sir.

Already a man.

Won't you come?

There are heavenly moments in life
that remain fast in the soul,

next to a face, a tear
or some sweet words.

I have always remembered
listening to my mother

with a sunrise like this,

with the wind blowing outside
and the garden frozen.

But there was in the house
a tremor of waiting

and whispered words
and hurried steps sounded,

that any moment
went up or down the stairs.

I too was awake,

peeping out, waiting for something
that would arrive through the clouds.

I will never forget my doubt as to
where the unusual visitor would enter,

although I was sure
that coming from heaven,

they must do so
through our illuminated skylight.

Then I knew otherwise.

I knew it from the sweet words
my mother left nailed in my soul

and that now I want to revive.

The Austrians will cross the
Piave as they crossed the Isonzo

and all the other rivers.

No, Antonio, the Piave
will be the Italian Marne.

Italy is finished, Carlos.

Finished.
- You're wrong.

Juanito, what are you doing here?

I want to see my little sister.

They haven't brought her yet.
Come on, go to sleep.

No, dad. Let me wait.

I'm not sleepy.

Look, Juanito, five o'clock.

It's no time for
any creature to be up.

My little sister
they're bringing is up.

Come on, Antonio, tell him.

He's always paid more
attention to you than me.

Oh to see what time
women give birth.

To die and be born,
with the dawn.

Come on, Juanito, obey
your father. You'll catch cold.

I want to see how they bring
my little sister from Paris.

Children are brought by storks.

Did they bring me
from Paris. Really, dad?

Did they bring me from Paris?

Yes, but then, France wasn't
at war. Now it's different.

Where will the stork get in?

They usually enter through
the window or the balcony.

With their beak
they tap the glass like this.

And then those inside open up
and pick the boy or the girl.

Will it arrive soon?
- I don't know...

It's here, it's a girl.
- Wait, Juanito.

It's crying.
- Hush, son.

I want to see her.
- Tomorrow.

Sir, sir!

It's a girl. A girl!
And she's beautiful.

How lovely, how chubby. Really?

Sir, a beauty,
come and see her!

Now you have a little sister.

Are you happy?
Yes, uncle, but I want to see her.

After your father.

He has to see her first.
- Why?

He has to check
if everything is in order

and if it's the girl he asked for.
- And if it's not?

If not...

They'll return it
and send another.

I don't want them to return it,
why do they have to return it?

Imagine if they were wrong.

Suppose your father has been
sent a black or Chinese girl.

If that was so,
your father would complain

and they'd send him a white girl.

No, I don't care if she is black.

Don't worry, madame,
I'll be right back.

Is she black, dad?
- What's that? She's beautiful.

I'm going to the pharmacy for something.
- I'll go with you.

Sir, sir!

Don Carlos?

Where's your father?
- He's gone to the pharmacy.

I'll see if I can catch him.

Why did you kill the stork?

What are you doing here?

This is no place for children.
Outside!

You're leaving!
- Leave him, doña Ramona.

Come on, son.
Let him.

It's not right, doña Eulalia.

Who let you in?
- I already told you to leave him.

It's up to you,
but it's not very Christian.

What's not Christian?
It's a lie.

Have you come to see your little sister?
- And the stork too.

Forget the stork.

Give me the baby.
- Yes, ma'am.

Here she is.

Mothers of today...

Here is your little sister.

Do you want to kiss her?

She's naked.
- Of course.

And all red.
- That will pass.

Why is she crying?
- She wants to be bathed.

Why doesn't she say so?
- She can't speak yet.

But I understand her.

Now we'll wash
and then dress her.

Doña Ramona.

Don't you like her?

The masters had already left.

Who let Juanito in?

Madame's doing.

Leave him.

I want him here.

Help doña Ramona.

But...

Hand me the basin.

You like your little sister?

Alright.

Won't you love her very much?

If she behaves herself.

Now no one can hear us,
tell me where the stork is.

Nowhere.

Babies aren't brought by storks.

No?

No.

Babies come another way.

I know, they come from Paris.

Not that either.

Babies are brought
by their mothers.

In your tummy?
- Yes.

That's why it was swollen,
understand?

You see?

And now it's not.

Mum, was...

Was I in there?
- Yes, you too.

Mum, I like it better that way.

It is sweet for the soul
to walk the paths of memory.

Although memory possesses
sad, dry tears,

like those flowers pressed
between the pages of books.

A dry painful flower to now evoke
the love that I lived in this office,

when that love briefly
turned it into a bridal chamber.

And a bitter flower is
the memory of a morning

in which, in this room,

someone made me
listen to an impossible music

that reached his ear from the
cold and thick silence of death.

To my dearest parents,

to whom I owe everything I am
and everything I will be.

Carmen, Madrid July 15, 1934.

What are you doing?

Nothing.

Carmen?

Yes.

Today it's been
a year since she died.

And what did Mum say?

She didn't even cry,
which is even worse.

15th of July.

It was a happy day.

She won first prize
at the conservatory.

She dreamed only of her piano.

It was her whole life.

She would have been
a great concert pianist.

But...

But she left us.

Your mother is like me right now.

Seeing Carmen.

The same as me.

She'll be listening to
the music from her piano.

Because Carmen went

and left us in silence.

She was the music.

And we can't remember her

without also listening to her music.

Prepare to lose her, Juan.

What did the doctor say?
- Nothing.

Because for her illness

they don't sell
remedies at the pharmacy.

Your mother is dying

through not wanting to live.

She lost the daughter
who was her only hope.

She says of me
that I no longer need her.

And you neither,

as soon you will find a woman
to accompany you through life.

And there she is.

Looking into the heavens.

Learning the way

to go with her daughter.

To Carmen's heaven?

Yes.

I suppose God
has it all planned.

And when we arrive,
we will find our own heaven.

Carmen's full of pianos.

Mine...

with a house like this.

With your mother.

And yours, Juan?

What is heaven?

The place where we go
when we die.

And why do we
have to go anywhere?

Why not stay in our
particular heaven?

I've been splashed by the foamy waves
breaking inside this shell.

That's what Ana Mari said.

Who is Ana Mari?

A friend of Carmen and mine.

Maybe my first love.

The whole of the sea
inside this conch.

And all the heavens
inside this house.

Is that your idea of heaven?

If I could choose,
that would be my heaven.

This house, that garden,

you, me.

Reliving moments of happiness.

And when they're all over?

Start again.

That is my eternity.

Have you not been happy here?

Wouldn't you accept this house as heaven?
- For all eternity.

I have covered this short path
a thousand times.

My steps as a child took me
to my mother's warm lap.

And later when a man

to the world of harmony that
blossomed from my sister's piano.

A harmony that
awakened with the light

and was extinguished
with shadow.

An eternal harmony.

That was part of the air
and the love of this house.

I want to lift that lid

which is to me like
a black and painful tombstone,

and awaken your sleeping music.

How was I, brother?

Wonderful.
But at first you were afraid.

When I went on stage?
- Yes.

I saw you, my sister,
in front of a thousand people.

I was scared too, Juan.

But when I drew the
first notes from the piano

it all faded away for me.

At the end

the ovation was so great
that my hands still hurt.

Look at them.

Thank you, Juan. They are
the first flowers my music deserves.

They are the flowers that my
sister deserves on her first success.

My sister, not her music.

And what am I more than music?

I always knew it,
but I understood it today.

When my hands attacked
Schubert's Impromptu.

At that moment
I knew what I was born for.

Why I exist
and the reason for my life.

A question I've never
asked you, sister.

Are you in love?

Yes, a great deal.
Passionately.

You kept it to yourself, sis.
Do I know him?

Yes.

And mum and dad?
- Them too.

What's he like?

Good...

Rather short,
plump, with glasses,

very shy and poor.

What sort of a man...

He's a genius and his
name is Franz Schubert.

I need to succeed.

Today was only the beginning.

Today you've won
first prize at the conservatory

and tomorrow you will be the hands
and soul of these glorious melodies.

If I don't reach that height,
I'd rather die.

You will reach it,
young, happy and beautiful.

Go on with your beloved Schubert.

Juan.
- Yes?

I've always thought that
there are pianos in heaven.

And what if there aren't?

I'm sure I'll come here
every day

to keep on playing.

Dreams of glory that
encouraged a passionate heart

to the beat of glorious harmonies

and that one night the
wind of death swept away.

Why is it here in the attic

that for the first time
I feel like crying?

Maybe because when I was a child,
my dreams converted their trunks

into pirate chests
full of treasure.

And this room was
the castle tower in which I was king.

And perhaps, why my heart
saw in a girl who loved this attic,

its Lady of the manor
and its first love.

Look.

I am the widow
of Count Laurel

I want to get married
and I have no one.

If being so beautiful
you have no one...

Juan! Ana Mari!
Where are you? - Let's go.

Tomorrow we have to come
open the trunks.

There are still secrets.

Why haven't we come until today?

I didn't think you'd like it that much.
- What nonsense.

I love it.

Tomorrow we'll open the trunks,
they must be full of stuff.

Hello, Ana Mari.
- Hi.

Where have you come from?
- The attic.

It's wonderful, ma'am.
It's full of stuff.

Especially dust.
Have you had a snack?

Yes, ma'am,
chocolate croutons.

Well then, play in the garden.

Your mother's very pretty,
she looks like a fairy.

What a bannister!

My father's a general in the cavalry.
Know what he'd do?

He'd ride down.

But for this you have
to be in the cavalry.

Look at your sister, poor thing.
All day the same thing.

What a bore.

The conch!

I've been splashed
by the foamy waves,

breaking inside this shell.

How can the sea
be shut up in here?

Of course I believe it,
I can hear it.

What a pain to learn the piano,
poor Carmen.

They don't make you learn piano?
- Not me.

You neither?

Boys don't learn those things,
that's for girls like Carmen.

Dad gave her the piano
last year for her birthday.

Lovely lollies from Havana.

I'll treat you to a lollipop.
What do you like?

Me? Lemon.

Lollies from Havana.

Lovely lollies from Havana.

Lollipop!

Give me two lemon lollipops.
- Hi son. Lemon?

The big one or the little one?

You're poor as a church mouse.

Give me a big one and a small one.

Big one.

There you are.

Enjoy it.
- Thank you.

Lovely lollies from Havana,

Suck then as long as you can

Here. - Not that,
give me the small one.

Take the big one, you're
a girl, you'll see how good it is.

Thank you.

The seller was in Cuba,
he fought against Maceo.

My grandfather was in Cuba too,
he became a commander.

Fantastic.

I already told you. Shall we play?
- It's your turn.

You men.

When I go to war,
I'll become a legionnaire.

Don't.
- Why not?

Dad says
legionnaires are all killed.

They wouldn't kill me.
- How do you know? - I know.

I want you to be something else.

I'll be a lawyer
and then I'll be rich.

It's really difficult.
- I'll be very rich.

We have a factory
for scented soaps.

Four.

Who's winning?
- Me.

That is how I like it,
the women win.

When I'm a lawyer,
I'll buy myself a racing car.

Those that go a hundred an hour.

I prefer the Hispano-Suiza.

Fine, you buy a Hispano-Suiza
and me a racing car.

Those in racing cars
kill themselves.

So what?

I don't want you to kill yourself.

Would you cry a lot
if I killed myself?

I'll buy a Hispano-Suiza like yours.
Do you think it's OK?

That's silly, we can both
go in my Hispano.

It's better that we go in mine,
one would be enough.

Yes, but...

That would be if we were married.

Well, we'll get married.

At night we'll put the Hispano
in the garden, there.

It'll be filled with acacia leaves.
- It doesn't matter.

In the morning
we can clean it.

No way.
We women do the cleaning.

I'll do it.

Women have to
take care of the children.

How many will we have?

At least two.

First a boy

and then a girl.

Do you know how children come?

What a question.
Of course I know.

How?
- Well...

Father and mother love each
other very much. - And what else?

They love each other very, very,
very much, until their hearts break.

And then?

Then the mother becomes
pregnant and the child is born.

Do you understand?
- Of course I do.

And how do you know that?
- We women know these things.

When we have a child
I'll plant a tree.

My father did.

When I was born, my father said:

"When I have a garden,
I'll plant a tree for Juan."

When he bought this house,
he planted that tree.

And when Carmen was born,
he planted that other one.

Why is it taller?
- Because I'm older than Carmen.

It's very nice to plant trees.

For the boys we have
I'd like to plant pines.

For the girls, weeping willow.

Do you think it's alright?
- As you wish.

Thanks, you're very good.

Me? What nonsense.

Are you crying?
- It's that I'm happy.

But if you don't want,
I won't cry.

I like it better that way.

I'm going to do one thing.
- What?

What are you doing?

Carving our initials
in the trunk of my tree.

How good you are, Juan.

I'm so happy
I could die right now.

I'm happy too, but I
wouldn't want to die now.

Because you're a man.

Yes of course.
It must be that.

I am the widow
of Count Laurel

I want to get married
and I have no one.

Juan and Ana Mari,
June 5, 1923.

Like it?

It's wonderful, thank you.

If the lollipop seller
came back, I'd buy you one.

But since he hasn't...

Come.

Did you like it?

More than the lolly.

Here, keep it as a souvenir.
- Ana Mari.

Margarita will take you home,
it's getting late.

Come on, Ana Mari.

Did you have a good time?
- Yes.

Enjoyed yourself?
- Very much.

Will you be back tomorrow?
- Of course, every day.

Let's go.

Goodbye.

Let's go.

It was always beautiful in the fall.
The triumph of the eternal greens

and the golden dying of leaves.

Why do they still cross the windows,
those strips of paper

that I saw one night when returning,
I don't know how long ago.

Maybe they have
forgotten to remove them,

or perhaps the war will continue.

But is such a long war possible?

Is it that hatreds can last
as long in the soul of man?

They're going to the front.

Or coming.
- No.

Returning, they don't sing.

When do we soldiers sing?

When you march
fearlessly into the trenches.

Where did you learn
so much about the war?

Here.

When you were at the front line

I would lean out
to see the soldiers go by,

dreaming of being able to see you.

And fearing...

anyone passing
yelling at me:

"Ma'am,

your husband is dead."

And the others, those
who went to the trenches,

like they were your companions,

I yelled at them:
"Hi there, comrades!"

And what did they say?

"Hi there, gorgeous."

And you are.

Do I seem so to you too?

Yes.

The most beautiful of all women.

Thank you.

Are you sure you won't
go back to the front?

Sure.

Can't they change their mind?
- They've promised me.

I just need to receive
the order in writing.

So...

Will you always be here?
- Yes.

And in six months,

you will plant a tree,
as your father did,

at the birth of our son.

Luisa!

Can you feel it?
- Yes.

I talk to him
when you're not here.

There are two bottles of champagne
left from our wedding, I'll go for them.

Don't run.

Wait!

Juan Rodríguez?
- Thank you.

Who was it?
- No one. A mistake.

"Posting to General HQ"
request is rejected.

Within 24 hours
you must join your unit

on the eastern front.

Within 24 hours
you must join your unit

on the eastern front.

I always remember in this
warm and sweet little room

the magic answer
my mother gave one day

to my question of
what was heaven.

She told me:
"Heaven is peace and love."

I added her words to this room
where one day in November,

together with her
I created my first heaven.

Mum, you seem to be
getting fatter every day.

Yes, darling.

Isn't that bad?

No, sweetheart.

It's very good.

If it's good,
why isn't daddy fat?

Because daddies don't get fat.

The man next door
is fatter than you are.

In a few days
I won't be fat at all.

But, Ma'am!

What are you doing on your feet?
That's not what the doctor said.

Either you sit or I will.

I will.

The broth, ma'am.

Is it good?
- Lovely. Thank you.

I'll bring your shawl.

You'll get bored shut up at home.

No, Mum.

What day is it today, mum?
- Friday.

No, mum, All Saints' Day.

Good...

Today is Friday,

November 1, 1917.

And we are almost in winter.

And in winter...
- Your shawl, ma'am.

Let's see...

That's it.

Isn't it better this way?
- Yes, Herminia. Thank you.

Oh lord, if it weren't for someone...

Mum, does it rain a lot in winter?
- Yes. Almost every day.

The baby will get wet.

What baby, darling?

The little brother they're bringing me.
- No, honey.

They come well packaged.
- Really?

Yes, even if it rains.

Not a drop of water
falls on them.

Sit here.

No, Mum.
- Yes.

Come here.

With me.

So.

What will they bring:
A boy or a girl?

I don't know.

Didn't you and dad
explain when you asked?

No, and it doesn't matter.
It will be beautiful.

Will you love it?
- Yes.

More than me?
- No, darling.

I'll never love it
as much as I love you.

I love you so much.
- How much?

To the end of the world.

And you me?
- Higher than heaven.

Higher?

So, mum, what is heaven?

You and I.

The solitude of the garden.

The silent loneliness of now.

Only the soul remembers a time
when the flowers lived

with laughter,

hope

and, finally, love.

A love that died.

And another sweet little one

that sometimes
peeked into the heart

unable to completely forget,

a crazy heart

which always waited for its return.

Hey! Hello!!

Hello!

Can I come in?

Push the gate, it's not closed.

Thank you.

You seem to like the garden.

Oh yes! It's wonderful!

Did you want something?

No, no, thank you.

But I...

I lived here close to 25 years ago
and I wanted to see how it was now.

Older.

Maybe sadder.

That's it, older.

Are the owners still alive?

From 25 years ago?
- Yes.

No, they died.

But if you want to see
the garden, you can.

Good afternoon.
- No, wait.

Are the new owners at home?

The owner.

Now there's only one owner.

No, not at this moment.

Please...

Could I see it?

Inside?
- Yes.

If it's a whim...
- Oh, yes.

If you don't mind,
I'd appreciate it.

You'll find it very untidy.

There's only me to take care of it.
- Don't worry.

Exactly as it was then.
- No, as I said. A little older.

It's like a miracle!

Would you let me?

Say it.

I've been splashed
by the foamy waves...

breaking

inside the shell.

Little Ana María.

No.

Where is little Ana Mari?

Here, next to Juan.

Just like then.

You said it just now.

Everything is the same.

So many years.

We've changed so much, Juan.

You look prettier.

No.

No.

Your house, Juan.

You don't know how much
I've remembered it.

That was where Carmen
played the piano all day.

Did she get to be famous?

She died.

I'm sorry.

The bannister!

Do you remember
how I used to come down?

Flying.

Would you dare now?

Yes.

Oh, no.
Not now.

Is there no one in the house?
- No.

You haven't married?

Yes.

And your wife?

She died in the war.

And you?

I married too.

We're separated.

We didn't understand each other.

What do you do?

Live.

Juan...

What became of our dreams?

This.

Dreams.

Did you plant
trees for your children?

I have no children.

Did you join the legion?

I was a quartermaster.

Listen, Juan,

Did you buy the Hispano-Suiza?

No. When I could buy it

it no longer existed.

But you became a great lawyer.

I'm a soap manufacturer.

And you?

You're going to be my wife.

Another lost illusion.

Now...

I'm a woman.

I'd like a drink.

Whatever you want.

Whiskey, cognac, champagne, vodka...

Which do you prefer?
- Something that burns.

I've remembered that a thousand times
and always laughed.

You asked me how babies came

and I told you.

Do you remember?

I told you.

And I've not been
able to have one.

Aren't you drinking rather a lot?

I asked you
for something that burns.

And I'm burning the past.

What else.

Drink up, Juan.

When I came here
I thought it was

to remember some dreams,
but it wasn't that.

If not,

then to relive them.

To live them,
not remember them.

We are no longer
June the 5th.

1923.

No, we're not.

But you've never
forgotten the date.

It's a very beautiful date.

I saw it carved on the tree
when I entered the garden.

I'm drinking to your health.

Juan,

let's toast.

To some children who
were lost on a life cruise

25 years ago.

And for a man and a woman
who have found each other.

To them.

Do you realize?

25 years have burned, Juan.

Although the garden
is still as it was...

All we need is Carmen's music.

Carmen's music.

Very good.

Round.

And round.

And round.

Why are you laughing?

You see, I was thinking

that a young lady might
suddenly appear and ask me:

"What are you doing here?"
- No one can show up.

Why, is there no
woman in your life?

Two. One died.

And the other?

It's me?

Only...

through having met again?

It's late.

Is someone waiting for you?

No.

I don't have anyone either.

Stay then.

Until when?

I don't know.

We'll have dinner together.

We'll remember.
- No!

I want to live!

And not waste the night
remembering old stories.

Come with me out there.

There are a thousand places to dine.

To dance

and come back late.

With the sunrise.

Isn't that wonderful?

What are you thinking?

Nothing. Forgive me.

My mother sat in that chair.

And seeing you...

It's not important.

And seeing me

have you remembered
that kind of fairy godmother

from Cinderella.

No, Juan,

I'm not her.

I never will be.

Come on, come with me.
We'll go this way.

We'll dance like crazy all night

and we'll be back at dawn.

I think...
- No.

Don't move.

Seeing you at that window

I remembered that she too...

Of course.

This is the window through which
your mother looked at the garden.

Goodbye, Juan.

There are nights
that never make amends.

Stay,

I'm alone.

No,

you have your ghosts.

Your mother's armchair,
your mother's window

and Carmen's music.

My memories are uglier.

That's why I don't want them.

Goodbye.

Wait.

You came to see the house
and I haven't shown you upstairs.

What's up there?
- Well...

The bedrooms.

Right...

I should have guessed.

If you want...
- No.

I know the way.

Anything is better
than loneliness.

Don't look at me.

You're wonderful.

No, not anymore.

No.

I want you to remember me
as the girl Ana Mari.

For you dreams
are better than reality

and I would like to be
by your side forever.

And you will be.

I know,

but in your dreams,
in your world of dreams,

I'll be one of your ghosts.

Carmen's music,
your mother's armchair,

and this,

the curtain in which Ana Mari
wrapped herself one night.

A night of love.

A dream of love.

You will never leave.

No,

I will always remain

behind this curtain.

No!

Don't turn it on, Juan.

There are three things
that are done without light:

Dying...

Sleeping...

Dreaming.

And one more.

What are you doing?

Can't you see?

No,

you can't go.

I want you to stay.

No.

Yes,
but not for one night.

Forever.

I've been very happy with you
and I want to continue this way.

We'll get married

and this house will be for us
the heaven it was for my parents.

I would take the place

of your mother.

And you?
Your father.

And we would have a daughter named Carmen
and she would learn to play the piano.

And we would never be
Ana Mari and Juan,

but the spirits of the dead.

Stay.

Yes, in your dreams.

Behind that curtain!

Ana Mari!

Ana Mari!

Why is heaven
different for me today?

And why does my front door
look black and hard?

Why is that flowered paper
no longer covering the walls,

that I saw from birth
and grew old with me?

Why, as if afraid of something,
have they closed the doors?

And why do I feel cold?

A deep cold
in body and soul.

Are you cold?

No,

it was only a shiver.

I'm fine.
- We'd better close the window.

No, Elena.

Leave it open.

I like the air coming in...

moving the curtains.

And see,
and see like that night,

the glow of dawn.

What a night?

One, very beautiful one.

Long ago.

Before we met?

Yes,

more than 20 years ago.

She was there

behind the curtain.

Who was she?

She.

A memory.

Have you been happy with me?

The happiest of women.

Thank you, I also
have been happy with you.

Where is our daughter?

With Ángel, her boyfriend.
They're downstairs.

Tell Marichu to get some rest

and Angel to stay,
in case you need him.

For what?

My uncle Antonio said:

To die and be born,

with the dawn.

And the dawn is already here.

Juan.

Come on, tell him.

Yes.

When it happens,

have the tree that my father
planted for me cut down.

It's no longer needed.

If one day Ana Mari asks about it,

tell her that I had it cut down.

Who is Ana Mari?

Ana Mari.

First she was a little girl, next door,

Then...

Then she was a woman.

Now she's a memory.

A beautiful memory.

Do you hear Carmen's piano?

She's playing...

playing.

Listen.

Mum.

Juan!

Subtitles: corvusalbus