Violeta Went to Heaven (2011) - full transcript
A portrait of famed Chilean singer and folklorist Violeta Parra filled with her musical work, her memories, her loves and her hopes.
Carmen Luisa!
What?
Hurry up,
everyone will be here soon.
I'm coming!
Our guest is a very special woman:
A poet, singer and author,
a tapestry-maker and artist,
Let me present the
Chilean Violeta Parra!
Remember that name!
Go and gather some berries.
What?
Go and cut some eucalyptus leaves.
Mama... Mama...
Wake up, Mama...
Answer me! Mama, it's not funny.
That wasn't funny.
What do you mean it wasn't funny?
You won't grow old
with that humour, my son.
It wasn't funny or original.
Hey, a bit more respect!
Did you work much that you're so tired ah?
What's the hurry if you don't
even know where we're going?
Just walk.
If you look, you'll find.
Is anybody there?
Hello...
Is anybody there?
Excuse me...
What are you doing
peeking through the window?
You'd better come in.
Thank you!
Excuse me.
Sit down there.
My name is Violeta Parra.
I'm looking for someone called Miguelina,
but I don't know where she lives.
So you're really just wasting your time.
Sort of...
Why?
I want to learn how to sing.
Wine, Viola!
Tell us your story, Violeta.
My story?
I hope you don't mind
if I ask how old you are.
Why would I mind?
Good.
How old are you?
Oh, I can't remember!
I don't mean to be rude...
but you're indian, aren't you?
Why would it be rude to call me indian?
I am indian, but not completely.
I always held it against my mother.
What?
That she didn't marry an indian.
So your father wasn't indian?
That's right.
Hang on, the singer is thirsty!
Oheers!
Violetita...
Sweetheart, my girl, come on...
You're the cleverest one.
You sprang out fully-formed
from your mother's belly...
Your turn Anita.
Excellent! Perfect pitch!
Ernesto, come on.
That's it, that's it. Come on Nicanor!
Eh, let's see, Violeta.
What do you mean "no"?
Come on.
Do the monkey! Do the monkey!
Do the dog! Do the dog!
I learnt the guitar watching adults.
I never studied music.
It's not like nowadays when
people are taught to sing.
Taught to vocalize,
how to breathe and tune the voice.
How the soul hurts
when goddamn luck
gets in the way
of what the heart wants.
What bitter hours
of my existence
without forgetting your eyes
without hearing your voice.
Yet sometimes
the shadow of doubt
crosses my mind
like a vision of death.
How the soul hurts
when goddamn luck
gets in the way
of what the heart wants.
What did your father leave you?
Leave me?
Yes.
Nothing.
Nothing!
Well, he left me an old guitar.
Only an old guitar?
Yes. He lost everything playing poker.
He didn't leave me any
land or animals or property.
But your father was a teacher.
He must have left you something!
Why?
The guitar he left was full of birdsong.
My mother took in sewing.
I saw her, all day, haunched over.
So I couldn't say Mama,
I want some sugar.
Mama, my shoe's broken.
Mama, there's a hole in my tooth.
We were a lot of brothers and sisters;
I thought l was happy.
But sometimes I looked
around and thought:
"I wish daddy was still alive".
Even if he were asleep,
I wish he were alive.
Violeta...
Hi Lucho.
- How are you, love?
- Fine.
Help me get the little one down.
Come here my pretty little Lula.
How are you?
Thank you, oh don't worry.
Here, take this.
Don't unpack, we're up
to our ears in problems.
What's happened?
Nothing, old Meyer gave me strict orders:
No shows during Holy Week.
What's blasphemous about our show?
That's what I said,
but he wasn't having any of it.
So just forget it.
I won't just forget it!
A day without work is a day lost.
I sent you ahead to organise
things and you've done nothing.
It's not my problem that it's Holy Week.
Well it's your problem now.
Go and unpack.
Alright, let's unpack.
My family's arrived
imagine the effort that took.
You have to understand me.
I could lose my job,
the bosses here are very religious.
Why don't we leave it for next weekend?
But our show's not at all inappropriate.
It's the children who act.
Their own children.
We' re not going to make our
own children do anything odd!
It's not like we brought the mambo dancer!
We do magic tricks, juggling acts.
And the Parra sisters
sing really pretty songs.
I've got nothing against your show
but these days the church
doesn't advise us to have fun.
Excuse me.
What do the clergy advise?
A period of reflection.
Would a religious play be alright?
It won't eat wheat, caramba nor rice at all,
It won't eat wheat, caramba nor rice at all,
the only thing it'll eat,
caramba, is my love so sweet.
The only thing it'll eat,
caramba, is my love so sweet.
Ay my cock pigeon,
beloved little mite
it abandoned me, caramba,
it left and took flight,
it abandoned me, caramba,
it left and took flight.
Cross yourselves!
Bow, bow, bow!
We have to warm up the public.
God's punishment?
Yes, but start with "Oh Lord, forgive us".
Oh Lord, forgive us -
We all pay for your sins You low-life rebel,
you'll feel God's wrath.
It isn't fair: God's wrath fora
woman stealing bread to feed her children.
It's not fair that
Christ suffered on the cross.
The people are on the cross,
we all wear a crown of thoms.
Thomy will be your path if you
don't repent in Christ's church.
Christ, we implore you, please
return to earth to defend the persecuted,
the defenceless women.
Punish the powerful with the wrath of God.
Don't forget that
tomorrow is Easter Sunday.
We'll be waiting for you with our last show!
Bring a friend for free! Thank you!
I went to the pampas, with a happy heart,
Like a singing bird. But there my bird died.
First its feathers fell, then its voice failed,
under the burning sun.
Seeing inside a miner's house I think:
A snail lives better in its shell,
or a dandy thief in the shadow of the law,
under the burning sun.
Rows of shacks all face to face, yes sir,
and rows of women waiting for one sink,
each with a bucket and a face of pain,
under the burning sun.
- Viola... - Mmmh?
Where did you find that song?
A little bird taught it to me.
Hilda...
This is the last time I'll
be acting with the troupe.
What?
I'm going to start out on my own.
Who did you fight with?
No, I haven't fought with anyone.
I just want to look for something else.
Another type of music.
What? You want to start
singing those old songs?
They're so serious Viola,
they're terrible for any party.
Life's not a party.
I went back to Santiago
by no means any wiser
as to how they whitewash the
news of a poor man saying "no",
down below in the dark night of gold,
saltpetre and coal,
under the burning sun.
Hello?
Hello?
Hello Guillermo, how are you?
Se?ora Violeta and don ?ngel.
When I was a girl my aunts
used to sing lovely country songs.
But I just listened,
I never wrote them down.
If I had, I'd have a notebook this thick.
Do you write songs?
Yes,
but I Come to listen to you.
Don Gabriel, you could teach the lady.
What should I teach her?
Some verses, a song, whatever.
I can't remember anything...
Do you want to take those
songs to the grave with you?
That's my business, not yours.
You're not my friend anymore.
We've never been friends.
You know what, don Gabriel?
You have a treasure trove here.
You might not know it,
but everything that your mother,
your grandmother left you,
I could write it in this notebook,
and show it to the whole world.
So that they'd know your songs.
Imagine the children in the
schools singing these pretty songs.
What do you think?
Please say "yes".
I can't.
Excuse me.
What happened?
I'm sorry, but he took a
vow never to sing again.
Why?
Because God took our little grandchild.
And the night that he sang for him...
So our hearts are empty.
I realised that we have a
treasure in this country.
Something very important.
Those songs need to be
heard around the world.
So that's why you accepted
the invitation to Poland?
Of course.
Did you know that it
was a communist country?
That's exactly why I accepted to go.
You are a communist.
Not at all! Who told you that?
I'm such a communist that if you shoot me
my blood comes out red!
Mine would too.
Congratulations, comrade!
How lovely!
Here, 183 dollars.
Make it last, there's no more.
Thank you, Luis.
Alright kids, help Mama.
What about you?
Why are you looking like that?
We'll all get through this together!
You'll help Luis look after your sisters.
I'm going to miss you so much.
Come on, a little smile?
That's it...
Mama?
Why don't you take the trophy?
So that they know what a
success you are in your own country.
You're so silly...
They won't even know where Chile is!
Come here,
carefully, carefully...
I leave my land, my children and my love,
with my passport in hand
I'm waiting for the plane.
In the station, all around
the crowds watch me sob,
but my heart is breaking,
as I leave for Poland.
My babe, I left in her cradle,
"What mother could do that?
" Asks my husband, confused.
But I go, scattering advice,
crying like my baby in her cradle.
When I hear the chains
break I ask Jesus Christ
to snuff out this light, if it ain't worth it.
Good evening.
My name is Violeta Parra.
I'm from a very distant country called Chile.
I'm so happy to be here this evening
and show you some of
my country's culture.
Thank you.
This is a very simple song,
and I need you to clap with me.
One for Mom
One for me
The verger's love
is sweet as honey.
The verger's love
is sweet as honey.
But life! How can I live with undesired love!
The verger lights my love,
Everyone!
A virgin was sick,
and she just couldn't hide -
A virgin was sick,
and she just couldn't hide -
"Take me to the verger!"
the virgin cried.
"Take me to the verger!"
the virgin cried.
The verger lights my love!
Everyone!
Come on children, up you get!
I'm off. Behave, you hear me?
"In the human gardens".
In the human gardens
that decorate the world-
I want to plant a branch
Angel I'm hungry!
Of love and understanding.
I want to plant a branch
of love and understanding.
Of love and understanding.
Rosita Clara!
Look how lazy she is.
Here's your milk.
Let me cut
the flower of understanding,
the herb of friendship,
the sprig of sentiment,
the herb of friendship.
The sprig of sentiment,
the sprig of sentiment,
It is a boat of love
that tugs my heart,
stronger each time,
like a white dove,
like a white dove,
like a white dove,
In the human gardens
that decorate the world-
I want to plant a branch
of love and understanding.
I want to plant a branch
of love and understanding.
Of love and understanding.
Rosita went to heaven like a white dove.
And the good angel
appeared on a pretty white horse.
We miss her so much.
Your son, Angel.
Of course it wasn't your fault,
but you should have
stayed with your children.
To have stayed in Chile would
have been to bury myself alive,
You must have felt so guilty.
A person is guilty if they rob
or humiliate or kill someone.
And your husband? What did
he say when you got back?
I don't know. I can't remember.
He never gave any sign of life.
I can imagine how terrible that
journey home must have been, wasn't it?
I stayed in Europe fora while.
How long for?
- Two years. - Two years!
He goes up to the heavens
where the little angels stay,
for their grandfather and father,
and siblings to pray.
Once the flesh is dead
the soul finds its place,
among the poppy petals
or inside a little bird.
The earth waits for him with an open heart
That's why the Angel seems awake.
Once the flesh is dead
the soul finds its place,
among the rose or inside a new little fish...
Dear listeners, let me
present Do?a Rosa to you.
How are you, do?a Rosa?
Very well, thank you.
Tell me some of what you were
talking about in your house in Barrancas.
You learn a lot at wakes.
You see, I arrange
children's funerals. I'm the best.
I don't leave them sitting around on
the chairs like they do in other places.
I arrange them on two boards, upright.
I put wings on them and arrange
an altar as though it were heaven.
The child needs to be perfumed, smiling.
The parents mustn't cry
because the tears make the wings wet
which makes it harder
for them to fly to heaven.
Mama...
What happens if we don't find the lady?
What do you mean, if we don't find her?
Of course we'll find her.
She's old, isn't she?
Yes.
But if we can't find her?
It's a pity that nobody would remember her.
Finish this!
Come on!
It's your party, go and sit down,
sit down for a moment.
It's fine. And you should stop drinking!
Have you finished?
No I haven't.
Happy birthday to you!
But I hate that song, shhh...
I hate that yankee song,
Especially now, that I'm going
to be about a hundred years old.
Blow them out, little sister-in-law!
My boy: When you arrived in
the world was the first hour.
A year has come and gone
so I'm here to celebrate.
There's someone coming.
Mama: When you arrived in
the world was the first hour.
A year has come and gone
so I'm here to celebrate.
Thank you, Angel.
Hello, mama.
You're not alone are you?
Eh, no, Gilberto, come in.
Oh my God.
Good afternoon.
Good afternoon.
This little pigeon isn't from around here.
No. He's from Switzerland.
Happy anniversary.
Thank you!
Happy "anniversary".
And?
Yes?
Happy birthday to you...
Okay, okay, that's enough!
Happy birthday!
You blow them out!
You're being so rude.
You've just arrived and you
want to steal the show, hey?
Merci.
What did you say?
Eh... thank you?
Do I look like I'm joking?
Fucking American.
No, no, no, no... Mario, stop!
You've gone too far.
Right, that's it, off you go.
No, no what are you talking about?
You can't throw me out!
You went too fucking far, goodbye!
You can't throw me out!
Yes I can, goodbye- Close the door.
Yes, goodbye!
Ha, what a nice guy.
What is love?
I don't really know what love is.
I can talk about making
an effort, about work.
For me, the best
thing in life is work.
The rest is nothing but butterflies,
a passing happiness.
Everything that isn't work is like
getting all dressed-up for a party
just to be ugly again
the next day.
You're not going to tell me, Violeta,
that you've never been in love?
I didn't say that.
How may times have you
been in love?
Five times?
Five million times.
How many times have you
been married?
Twice.
I'd say you were
a thoroughly modern woman.
Not modern, primitive.
What are you doing?
We're just having a coffee, that's all.
Better be.
Do you want some cake?
Hey, what's your name?
What?
You poor thing!
Come on, let's dance.
Quiet was my little dog-
Quietly minding my little house.
Then Come the dog-catcher-
snatched my little dog,
left my house alone
and the burglars broke in.
They took my husband's mother-
what a stroke of luck that was.
- Who's the dog?
- Wow wow!
- Where's the dog?
- Wow wow!
- Which is the dog?
- Wow wow!
- I'm not the dog.
- Wow wow!
- Who's the dog?
- Wow wow!
- Where's the dog?
- Wow wow!
Quiet little dog!
Doggy dog!
Wow wow!
Where did you two meet?
He was looking for you.
For me?
Yes.
For me?
Yes.
For me, why for me?
I heard you on the radio.
But I'm about a thousand
years old!
Where?
In France?
I'm Swiss.
How sweet.
What did you think?
Very young.
What did you think
about her singing?
Beautiful.
My singing...
Yes.
My aunt sings beautifully.
He's a musician.
Play me something.
I can't -
I haven't got anything...
Play something nice.
Out, out, get out!
Come.
Get into the bed.
Into the bed.
No, no, no, here.
My life, believing you, flatterer,
seeing you,
seeing you such a liar,
Thank you for the ring.
It's an engagement ring.
Of course.
Does it fit?
I love it when it reflects
my ugly face.
My life, I loved you, I loved you,
yes ay ay ay.
My life, I loved you,
so untrue, so untrue.
Tiquitiquiti, tiquitiquiti, liar
Tiquitiquiti, tiquitiquiti, actor
Soul-snatcher,
yes ay ay ay,
Soul-snatcher,
yes ay ay ay,
Tiquitiquiti, tiquitiquiti, liar
Tiquitiquiti, tiquitiquiti,
lying, I lie, I lie,
lying, liar.
Look this way...
Violeta, look this way.
Stop.
Smile.
More, more.
Violeta Parra isn't a dancer,
but I'll show you some Chilean steps,
so as to... just to...
Ladies and gentlemen,
please.
If you don't want to listen to me,
you're wasting your money
if you've come to eat and drink,
because what you've paid
for is a show.
So, out of respect for yourselves,
and the artists,
please be quiet while we sing.
Thank you.
Are you angry?
It's quite normal here to
play with a cock.
It's nothing against you.
We'd be better of playing in the street
so nobody notices your lack of rhythm.
Don't you like what I do?
No.
I'm so sorry, Mrs Perfect.
Nightingale's voice.
Don't call me Mrs.
Beautiful eyes, ruby lips,
velvet fingers.
Where did you learn that?
You pretentious idiot!
A smile like a deer's.
What are you doing
wearing that stupid hat?
A young man like you...
I'll catch a cold.
Poor little thing!
Don't you have anything
to warm me up?
Come here, touch this.
Chilean raw material.
Mrs, why so wrapped-up?
I told you not to call me Mrs.
My life, I who love, who loved you,
my love untrue,
My life, I who love, who loved you,
my love untrue.
What are all these pictures for?
We're going to squashed to death.
Don't worry,
we'll sell them all.
How?
At the Louvre.
The Louvre?
Yes.
They don't let street vendors
set up outside the Louvre.
Well...
It'll have to be inside then.
What's wrong, sweetheart?
Won't you help me with the frames?
How do you pronounce it?
"Guerre" or "guerra"?
This tapestry is called "Against war"'.
There's a lot of political disorder
in my country
but I can't protest.
So I protest with my art.
And the flowers on this characters.
Are these people's souls.
The gun
is death, is war.
Where did you study art?
It all comes from here.
Did you learn this technique
as a child?
No, just from watching others.
I started to paint and embroider
five years ago.
Painting, embroidering or singing,
it's all the same thing to me,
and it doesn't matter since when
I've been doing it.
The important thing is that
my country
is represented here.
Did you already know how to embroider?
No I don't know how
to do anything.
I don't know how to -
Draw.
Draw!
Have you two been working
together for long?
No. He makes the frames for me.
The commission meets next Monday.
They will examine your work.
I must warn you that it is
very difficult.
The Louvre Museum of Decorative-Arts
is a highly solicited museum.
But did you like it?
Thank you for your visit.
Thank you.
Look sweetheart...
What's the rush?
I'm leaving.
Where to?
I'm going to Geneva.
Why?
I just want to
be at home.
Isn't this your home?
No.
What happened to you?
Nothing.
All I do is make your frames.
Your big works of art.
Did I say that?
It was just way of putting it.
It was a formal meeting.
Formal? You, formal?
You can't leave.
Why do you want me to stay?
To hold your sound-recorder?
To bang the drum for you?
My darling!
Fine let's leave,
but let's go to Chile and -
let's build a theatre and live together.
We could play together, and teach as well.
Stop, Violeta.
What? Did the little boy
learn everything he could?
Shit! Listen,
I'm talking to you.
You've got enough frames,
you don't need any more.
Your work was exhibited
in the Louvre in Paris.
Yes.
I know that the French support
communist artists,
and being a close friend
of Pablo Neruda's
I presume the communist party
helped you.
No, not at all.
I didn't know that your
work was at such a high level.
I did, that's why I took it there
and why they accepted it.
How did the critics
and the French public like it?
My dear Angelito,
I want to be there, but I'm here.
It's like I've got
a thorn in my heart.
I always tell that there we
have little parcels of pastry
which we fill with fried onions
and put in the oven.
I'd like to eat one right now.
I've got seven siblings
and over there we have flowers
which haven't been invented here yet.
Are you Violeta Parra?
Yes.
I knew someone famous was
coming, but you!
What are you doing here?
I've come to sing.
Here?
You sing where they want to hear you.
I want to hear you.
Good. I'll sing for you.
Thank you. I'll learn a lot,
I sing "cueca" as well.
Sing something now.
No, I couldn't,
I'm a waiter here.
But only for a while
to make some money then
I want to dedicate myself to folklore music.
No! Don't do that or you'll
only have work on the National Day!
Seriously.
- Good luck
- Thank you.
See you soon.
Hey!
Come.
Come to my place
if you dare-
I'll give you a glass of wine
and tell you a bit about the job.
Thank you so much.
See you soon.
This Chilean patriot
triumphed in Paris.
Indeed she did.
The "Figaro" said:
"Da Vinci ended up in the Louvre.
Violeta Parra began there."
She's with us this evening, do?a Violeta
Parra, a big round of applause!
To be seventeen again
after living a whole hundred years -
is like deciphering the signs
without the key of the code,
Being suddenly
- as fragile as a fleeting second,
and feeling so deeply again
like a child in front of God.
But now that you're a rounded artist-
poet, musician, painter,
sculptor, tapestry- maker,
if you had to choose one
of these modes of expression,
which would you choose?
I'd choose to stay with the people.
And give all this up?
The people give me the reason
to do all of these things.
I like this place, Violeta.
It's flat and you can install anything here.
The only downside is
that the sun is very strong here.
No, this is fine.
Stand there, Lulita.
Will it be big?
Yes.
Like a circus tent?
No, not like a circus tent but it has
to be able to hold quite a few people.
How many people?
Carmen Luisa!
That's where
the house will be.
Do you like it?
Yes. It's like the second house
that the Three Little Pigs built.
Come.
We'll need a lot of chairs
and tables for the bar.
We need ten kettles
and we have to build a fireplace.
Do you like it?
Yes, I do. But remember there's
another paved area down there.
This place is perfect.
I'm an expert in this,
don't you know that I worked in a circus?
So that's why...
That's why what?
That's why you like tents.
I love them!
Gently steers us
from grudges and violence.
For only love and its curious art
returns innocence to a heart.
All in a tangle
like the ivy on the wall,
sprawling and spreading
like the moss on a stone.
Like the moss on a stone.
Oh, ay ay ay,
We need a box for the money.
There'll be good musicians playing
so we'll have to pay them properly.
How will you pay me?
With kisses!
And I'll sing for you all night long.
We're a long way from the centre.
What if nobody comes?
Don't worry, they will.
To the University of Folklore
in this tent,
here, right by the Andes.
All in a tangle
like the ivy on the wall,
sprawling and spreading
like the moss on a stone.
Thanks.
Thanks mayor...
Thank you, Violeta.
We're so proud to have you here.
I want you to be happy here and
use this land for whatever you like.
As if in answer to a spell
the window flew wide open -
in Come love and spread its cloak
spreading like a warm morning
to sweet sounds of a reveille.
The jasmine blossomed,
and this angel flying,
fixing jewels in the sky,
took my many years
and made me seventeen again.
All in a tangle
like the ivy on the wall,
sprawling and spreading
like the moss on a stone.
Like the moss on a stone.
Oh, ay ay ay.
Your music is lovely.
We're a bit pressed for time.
Thank you.
Let's thank do?a Violeta Parra
for reminding us how
beautiful our Chilean countryside is.
On behalf of all those present,
including our wives
who, exceptionally, came today,
we wish you further success.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please proceed to the dining room
to continue this delightful evening.
I'm so sorry that you had to wait for so long.
Would you like something to eat?
Okay.
Why don't you go to the kitchens,
they'll serve you something.
Who the fuck do you think you are?
Posh idiot.
Who do you think
you're sending to the kitchen.
Deaf shit-head.
Calm down, it's alright.
- Please do proceed into the dining room.
- Deaf, deaf, deaf, deaf.
Deaf, deaf...
Thank you.
Thank you for coming to my house.
For listening,
eating
and drinking.
Did you pay for everything
you drank?
We haven't finished drinking yet.
Haven't finished yet?
Cheers.
Well...
I'm tired, I'm off to bed.
On my own.
Do the washing up,
then head off home, Okay?
Good night, good night.
Just go home quickly.
The sparrow hawk
is the male
and the main dancer in this ballet.
The hen, the woman is equally important.
But that character suffers from
the hawk and his hurtful attacks.
He could also
represent power and capitalism.
As you can see, the theme is love.
Love, which is not always
constructive,
but which is almost always destructive, fatal.
Up you get!
Sweetheart, on Saturday I had
150 people in the tent.
We serve food-barbecues, fried pasties,
soup, mate, coffee,
my tapestries and my music.
If we managed to set up
a fondu we'd be a success story.
Mama, two things came
into my head, today.
What?
That next time you make a mask
please use a ball for the mould.
And the other thing?
Out my veins for me.
That's not something you talk about,
it's something you do.
How was your work in Bolivia?
Did you find somewhere to play?
And my film?
Have you forgotten already?
I still love you.
Give me something!
A little smile!
Run-Run went north,
no idea when he'll be back.
But that's life,
and the thorns of Israel.
Israel?
Why the thoms of Israel?
Are you going to go to Bolivia
to look for him?
I don't know.
Will you sing him this song?
Maybe.
If you find him,
please don't hit him.
I won't hit him.
I just want to get him into bed
and suck all his juices...
Mama!
What?
Mama,
if a man doesn't love you
he doesn't love you.
If I like someone,
I'm not go chasing him.
In a cart of oblivion
off he goes.
In the station of Time,
resolute about leaving
Run-Run went north,
no idea when he'll be back.
Perhaps for the anniversary
of our loneliness.
Three days later
a coral-coloured letter
tells me that his journey
will stretch for some time more.
He's off to Antofagasta,
without saying when he'll be back,
but he tells of his adventures,
which I'll recount by and by,
ay ay ay -
Violeta
it's my bag.
I know it's your bag.
Leave your things there.
Let me show you my house.
My daughter, Carmen Luisa.
We've already met.
Good.
Come in.
Mama, are they going
to sleep here?
Yes.
It's full here every night,
you'll see.
You can sleep up there if you like,
or down here.
We'll put out some cushions.
It's warm at this time of year
so you shouldn't get cold.
Thank you, thank you.
Not Gilberto, because he gets cold,
so he'll sleep in the house with me.
So...
Didn't you bring your wives?
No.
Why not?
Because there are
good Chilean women as well.
Let them rest, Violeta.
I can ask what I like,
goddammit.
Show me the photos then,
have you got photos?
No.
Photos?
What photos?
Photos of your Bolivian girl.
Show them to me.
Fetch her,
just bring her,
I don't care.
I'll teach her to sing.
To play the guitar,
I can teach her to dance as well.
Just bring her for God's sake!
My dear and faithful friends,
we're lucky today to share the stage
with a group from a brother-country.
Bolivia!
I give you Los Jairas!
Mama, there's no bread.
Okay, fine.
Will you leave again?
I'm here, Violeta,
I'm here.
But you will leave.
No.
Yes you will.
Is she young?
No.
- No?
- No.
Fetch her,
bring her here.
We'll all live together.
But bring her. I don't care.
Bring her, bring her here.
Honestly.
I promise that I'll be nice.
I'll look after you.
Calm down.
I love you.
We all love you.
You're Violeta Parra.
You have this tent.
You have three children.
You've written a lot of songs.
But my body is so tired.
Mine isn't.
I want to play music,
to have my own children.
Oh Mama...
Sweetheart.
Sweetheart.
It's all gone black.
You've broken me.
Look at what you did, sweetheart,
look at what you've done.
Goddamn the sky,
and the reflecting star,
Goddamn the shiny tiles,
and the glittering streams.
Goddamn the depths
and the stones on the ground,
Goddamn the fire in the oven,
my soul burns with pain.
Goddamn time
and its stifling rules.
How my pain kills me.
Goddamn the mountains
of the Andes and the coast,
goddamn this thin slip of a country,
goddamn peace and war,
and the frank and the fickle,
goddamn the perfume,
because my desire is dead.
Goddamn the true,
the false and the uncertain.
How my pain kills me.
Goddamn the spring
with its flowering gardens,
and autumn in colour,
I damn you too.
The passing clouds,
goddamn you, and how,
my suffering is killing me.
Goddamn the whole winter
and the summer with its lies.
Goddamn the sacred and profane.
How my pain kills me.
Goddamn the lonely
star on our flag,
goddamn any emblem
of Venus or Araucaria.
Goddamn the canary's song,
the cosmos and its planets,
the earth and its crevasses,
this pain weighs so heavily on me.
Goddamn the wide sea
with its ports and fishing towns.
How this pain kills me.
- Goodbye.
- Bye.
See you sometime.
Hello, do?a Violeta?
She's sleeping.
At this time of day?
Yes.
What's wrong?
Few people came.
Few people...
Is she down there?
Yes.
Excuse me.
Excuse me.
Is she sleeping?
No, she's dead.
Violeta.
Violeta.
Violeta!
How is my mayor?
I'm worried.
I was just messing around.
Everything outside is upside down.
Upside down?
What did you tell him?
What did you tell the mayor?
Nothing.
That nobody came last night?
No.
Who do you think is the boss here?
Idiot.
Have you eaten anything?
No, I'm not hungry.
If no one's coming, and this isn't working,
let's take the tent down.
It's over.
He's a gentleman.
An academic.
Why are those paintings
just lying around?
Do you like any of them?
Yes.
This one.
This one's expensive.
How much is it?
Four beans.
What?
Four million.
How much is your
house worth?
You don't understand.
I want to buy the painting.
Well, give me your car and
I'll give you the painting.
I'd rather pay you.
So recite a poem, then.
Have you eaten anything?
Eat.
- Don't you want to?
- No, thank you.
But you're always
going on about food.
Eat.
No, keep your money.
Look after yourself.
Nothing in life is that bad.
We poor people eat everything.
How would you like
to be remembered?
You're killing me off.
No, of course not!
I see you as an example
for young artists.
What advice would you give
a young artist?
Advice?
Perhaps...
That they should write
what they want.
In the rhythms they want.
That they experiment
with different instruments.
Sit down at the piano
and destroy the metrics!
Shout, don't sing.
Blow on a guitar and strum a trumpet.
Hate mathematics and
embrace chaos.
Creation is a bird
without a flight plan.
It never flies in a straight line.
Mama!
What?
What's wrong?
Carmencita, I'm so poor.
I'm silenced.
Mama!
Everything I wrote or sang
is pointless.
It doesn't express
what I feel here.
Look.
It's so much more.
So much more terrible.
Life is stronger than a canvas...
than a poem, than a song.
Put your shoes on and fetch the
white tablecloth, I have to wash it.
Now?
Yes, there's going to be
lots of visitors today.
We have to tidy everything up.
Carmen Luisa!
What?
Where are you?
I'm here!
Hurry up, everyone
will be here soon.
I'm coming!
I'll make the fire.
Go and gather some berries!
What?
Out some eucalyptus leaves.
Have you gone yet?
Not yet.
What you waiting for? Go!
Alright!
In the song you mentioned-
The sparrow hawk.
Yes, the sparrow hawk, of course.
I presume that the people
are represented by a chorus.
No.
This is a dance which
I have to sing myself.
Pain can't be sung
by professional voices,
by singers trained
at a conservatoire.
It needs a voice of suffering. Like mine.
I've been suffering for 40 years.
Well, given that we don't only suffer,
I want to thank you, for the pleasure
you've given us by being here tonight.
Violeta, we're all ears.
Wherever you are,
my heart's darling,
don't listen to my cries,
just ignore -
maybe you don't remember anymore,
how I made a vow,
how I made a vow,
yes I swore, yes, yes.
What's left of what you promised,
my mismatched love?
Why did I even lay eyes on you,
on a love so divided
divided in two, in two,
in two, yes, yes, yes.
Sparrow, sparrow, sparrow hawk
The sparrow hawk comes swooping,
thunder already shakes,
I have nowhere to be,
I have nowhere to be,
I have nowhere to be.
Sparrow, sparrow, sparrow hawk