Leopard Skin (2022-…): Season 1, Episode 3 - Private Lives, Part 1 - full transcript

Max: The Sisters Of
The Holy Tears Convent

had taken in Archie's
mother when she was orphaned

and Archie always felt a
great affinity for them.

So after the Loswaki massacre,

he thought it would be an
interesting and safe subject

for Alba to tackle.

- The nuns were a hoot.

For every natural event,

there was a supernatural
interpretation.

If a butterfly
flew in the window,

they'd declare "A letter
will arrive today."



If milk boiled
over on the stove,

they'd say, "We must be careful,

someone in the
sisterhood is sick."

They all played the lottery
a lot, but never won.

-And they insisted on
traveling without anyone else,

always, didn't they?

- Yes, they made me drive
my car behind their bus.

- The, uh, the weather for
the day of the field trip

called for a
cloudless, sunny day.

- Yes.

Max: After the accident,
Alba lost track of time.

She felt hollow.

She grew tired.

She would gaze at the
birds in the ocean



and felt deeply moved by the
life humming inside them.

Alba: I dropped my guard.

I knew there were magical
moments to cling to

and I felt alert towards
the things around me,

especially the birds.

But it's as if someone got
inside my body at night,

not sexually, but like,

a scientist got in there
and rewired all my parts

but didn't put them
back in the right place.

Maybe less of a scientist

and more of a
Mexican electrician,

someone accustomed
to improvising.

And when I looked in the mirror

I could see the
difference right away.

After three days, the
evidence was undeniable.

I had started losing luminosity.

I would lie out in the sun
trying to soak in nature,

but I was fading fast.

I lost track of time.

I lost track of everything.

I felt like I was melting.

Being a trained documentarian,
I could think of no other option

than to photograph
my deterioration

before it was too late.

Every day, I
photographed my face,

paying close
attention to my eyes.

I was a bit astonished I
could bear the spectacle.

I felt like a corpse
being eaten by worms.

What was I looking
for in these photos?

I don't know.

I felt there was
something there,

but I couldn't tell you what.

I can't remember a single
conversation with my husband

during those two months.

All I remember is one
time saying out loud...

I think we're floundering.

Max: 63 days after she began

her reflective
self-portrait series,

her husband started
having an affair

with a local restaurant hostess.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- Can I ask you something?

- My plate is full, but
I can spare a minute.

- What are you doing?

- What does it look like?

- Don't make me feel
stupider than I already do.

- There is a joke
to be made here,

but I can't remember jokes.

Oh, wait, there's one I like.

A waiter is serving
a plate of beans

and drops it on
the customer's lap,

so he says, "Oh, oh,
I spilled the beans."

I'm Batista, but
everybody calls me Batty.

Who are you?

- Alba.

- Oh, dear. You
are Archie's ex.

- Is... is that what he said?

- He told me about you.

- I am so sorry about
those nuns in the bus.

Are you feeling better
after your breakdown?

I'm only trying to get a tan,
to answer your initial question.

I did not mean to upset you.

- You didn't.

- Well, you're upset.

- Here we go round
the prickly pear.

- Excuse me?

- This is my house, yes?

- Archie said you and he
had worked everything out,

but if there's some
stuff you need to pick up

or if you want to take a look
around the place one last time,

by all means.

- To be honest,
right this minute,

I'm not thinking about
either of those things.

- I've never been in
this situation before.

I'm trying to put
myself in your shoes.

- Oh.

Well, don't worry if
it doesn't work out.

- Let me get you some water.

Inocencia!

- Ms. Alba.

- You know this person?

- We just met.

- Well, we met last week

when Archie brought
me over to meet you.

You seem a little pale.
Are you feeling sick?

- At the moment, no. But
it doesn't look good.

- Inocencia, water.
Quickly, please.

- Terrible accent.

- We can both agree that
your pride is wounded

and that might be clouding
your outlook on things,

so accept the water
and get going.

- Thank you.

- You missed most of my face.

Plus, we're in a beach house.

I am not wearing any clothes.

So none of this behavior
is doing anything

except making you seem sadder...

and blinder.

I am not the reason Archie
fell out of love with you.

I'm the shoulder he cries on.

Yes, I give him a hard-on,
but mostly I listen to him,

and in return, he pampers
me and he takes care of me.

- The eyes are not here.

There are no eyes here.

In this valley of dying stars.

In this hollow valley.

This broken jaw of
our lost kingdoms.

- I don't know that
song, I'm sorry.

- I don't want your
charity and understanding.

Alba: What is a marriage anyway?

I moved into a small apartment

in a sorry little town

not far, but a
million miles away.

I met a young trumpet player.

He was almost never
home. It was perfect.

We fucked. We fought.

One morning I found
his heroin stash.

That sounds like the beginning
of a strange time and it was.

What if you never thought
you were the kind of person

who has an addictive personality
and then found out you were?

Eventually I went to a shaman
in the jungle to clean up.

He gave me better
drugs. Natural ones.

The first flower, he called it.

I had a vision.

Not one. Many.

But basically one in many
different variations.

When I returned to my senses,

I remembered many things
I never knew before.

Number one: my
grandmother was a psychic.

She had the gift.

And when I was a child, one
night she came into my room

and whispered
something in my ear.

Blue smoke came out of her mouth

and swirled in
front of my eyes...

I can still remember it. The
smoke spelled out a word.

The word was "death."

I didn't know what it meant

but I knew it meant
something important.

- Miss Alba!

- I have these
dreams, Inocencia.

Horrible things. You
wouldn't believe it.

How are things here?

- It's not the same without you.

- Does he seem happy?

- I don't know.
- Does she seem happy?

- I don't know.

- What do they do?

- He's away on business
more than usual.

She gets drunk and
dances by herself,

watches Kung Fu
movies, and cries.

- How does she treat you?

- Uh, she doesn't like me.

She accuses me of
stealing her things.

- Inocencia, that's terrible.

- Nothing I can't handle.
But tell me about you.

You have lost weight,
but not in a good way.

- I can always count
on you to tell me the truth.

- Are you on a military diet

or have you become a junkie?

- I went through a phase,
but I'm on the other side.

- God knows you've
been through a lot

to develop many addictions.

Drugs are not for
the weak of heart.

You wake up one morning
and your hair is on fire.

Are you still
taking photographs?

- No, no. Thankfully,
no. How is your family?

- Good.
- Yeah?

- My nephew Raimundo.
- Raimundo?

- Yeah, my sister's son.

He's a little
wild, but so smart.

He's grown into a
proper young man.

He's thinking about college.
Can you imagine?

The first in the family.
Where did we go wrong?

- Inocencia.
- Yes?

- Is there anything
strange going on here?

- Well, with Archibaldo,

everything is a little
strange, you know this.

- I'm afraid...

No, I'm convinced she's
in terrible danger.

How?

I'm convinced he will kill her.

Let me show you something.

- What is it?

- I took a pinch to my village.

I showed it to my uncle
Ulises, he's a pharmacist.

He knows everything about
chemicals and poisons.

He told me this comes
from a Japanese fish

that rich people
pay a lot of money

to eat in restaurants,

but if it goes into
your bloodstream

a certain way,

it paralyzes you.

- You think he's poisoning her?

- I think she is poisoning him.

Alba: What? Inosencia: Hmm.

I saw it two weeks ago,
with my very own eyes.

Alba: Are you sure?
Inosencia: I saw her.

- But it's so
clear in my dreams.

She's in danger.

- Maybe your dream is
an inverse prediction.

It happens.

Alba: A week later, I returned.

- Ah, you scared
me. Batty: Did I?

Tell me about your visitor.

- What visitor?

- Let me explain to
you something about me

that you may not
have figured out.

I hate thieves and I hate liars.

- Me, too.

You know, that reminds
me of what Doña Leticia

- was telling to her daughter...
- You don't understand.

- What?

- It must be a drag,
living on scraps,

on whatever the
hot shots let fall.

Spend your entire
existence watching others

get what they want,

while you're stuck
here watching TV.

- Have I done
something to upset you?

- As I was saying,

living in self-respecting
poverty is insulting,

no matter how you slice it.

But see, I think
life must be lived

according to your own terms.

Otherwise, it is my belief,
it's not worth living at all.

What are you drinking?

- Tea.

- May I have a sip?

- You won't like
it, it's gone cold.

But I can make you a new one.

- Let's get
realistic, Inocencia.

-Mm-hm.

- I know you don't like me
and I have a few reasons

not to trust you
a hundred percent.

And you've worked for
Archie since forever,

but I think it's time
for you to move on.

- Is this some kind of game?
- Yes.

It's called "stop
lying to my face."

I know Alba was here
visiting you today.

- No, not today.

- Oh, not today, but other days?

How often does she swing by?

- Well, she came one day.

- But not today.
- No.

- You swear to God.

- I don't take the
Lord's name in vain. No.

- So I'm just being
paranoid, is that it?

- I didn't say that,

but, um, you've been acting
a little nervous lately.

You know, like what you said
about the coconuts this morning.

- Oh, please. I
said I was wondering

if other people
were also paranoid

about coconuts falling
on their heads.

This is something
completely different,

and you know that!

- If you say so.

- I want you to pack
your bags and go.

- I'm
sorry. You can't just...

- Are you telling me what
I can and cannot do with

my own staff?

- No.

- My staff who steals my
husband's gold watches

and rings and my jewelry when
she thinks I'm not looking?

- I have never stolen
anything in my entire life.

- Goodbye, Inocencia.

- Please.

Don't do this, please.

- Oh, oh, okay.

Are you gonna cry like a baby?

You are fired.

Alba: Two weeks
later, he was dead.

MILLIONAIRE ARCHIBALDO
DE LA COLMENA

HAD HIS LAST DRINK

THE SAD WIDOW

- Alba.

- I heard about your loss.

- Can you please not...?

- When you make a documentary,

the main question is
where to put the camera.

Choose correctly,

the subject will reveal
itself organically

and your job is to
stay out of the way.

But no matter what you choose,

there is no
overestimating good luck.

- I am sorry your brain
is mush. I truly am.

You should get
professional help.

But I'm grieving, this
is not a good time.

- I know. I'm sorry.

Here.

- What is it?

- I know you have very strong
personal feelings about me,

but I want to offer you
my deepest condolences.

- Will you stop it
with the mud already?

What is this?

- It's a movie.

A documentary filmed
from two angles.

One right here,
where it sees you

poisoning Archie's Negroni
three different times

until you got the amount
just right, but then...

And this is where the
stroke of luck comes in.

Right there on the
edge of the gazebo,

looking at the pool,
exactly where he collapses

once the poison surges
through his veins

into his heart.

It remains on this fixed-line,

exactly where you dragged
him to the wheelbarrow

and wheeled him
down to the shore,

where you dumped
him.

It's uncanny, when
you think of the odds.

But it's all there.

It shows how much effort it
took you to strip him naked.

Then without a doubt, the
most surprising moment

was when you're about to
position him face down

so he'll drown

and you notice his erection

and you can't resist
kissing it goodbye

with such vigorous tenderness.

In that unguarded
moment, I understood you.

Love is rare because
it rarely happens

but some part of you,

the deepest animal
part of you, loved him.

He came and went in
his final moment.

- What...?

What? What do you want?

- I want you to see the movie.

There's another copy
in my lawyer's office,

of course, with instructions,

should I suddenly disappear.

I imagine the Mexican
Justice System

will throw every
law and every book

they ever read at you.

Patriarchal societies
do not take kindly

to national treasure
macho philanthropists

being murdered by their wives.

Especially foreigners
like you and me.

I would guess the
sentence they agree upon

will reach into the
multiple lifetimes,

piled on top of one another
and served consecutively

with no possibility of parole

if only to make sure
restaurant hostesses everywhere

get the message loud and clear.

- I'm sorry.

What can I do? Tell
me what I can do.

I... I will do anything
you want, please.

Please don't let
them take me to jail.

Please. Please.

Please, please.

What can I do? You gotta
tell me what I can do.

You have to give me
a chance, please.

I want you to listen
to me, please.

I-I can do anything you want.

I can... I can... I can
do anything you want.

I can live with any
terms you-you-you...

Tell me what to do, please.

I can bear anything as
long as it's not jail.

Please.
Please. I beg you.

I beg you, please. Please.

I
beg you, please.

- Stop crying.

Right now.

Stop.

Clean my boots.

- Of course.

- With your tongue.

Everyone has a sadistic streak.

You learn that quick

when you have someone
at your mercy.

Malone: You little
bitch.

You had one job.

- Easy, partner.

- Or what? You understand
how this works, yes?

The more witnesses we have,

the more witnesses we
have to take care of.

Congratulations.

You just signed
her death sentence.

- Why don't we discuss this
away from the children?

- Hey! Hey!

What's your name?

- Inocencia.

- Inocencia, quit cleaning shit

and just go sit in the
bathtub with the others.

- I always knew it
would end badly for you.

- Sweet of you to say.

- Who are you?

- Nobody.

- Everybody is somebody.

- Not me. I'm too hungover.

Malone: Keep quiet in there!