Bad Education Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Bad Education script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Pedro Almodóvar movie (La Mala educación) with Gael García Bernal.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Bad Education. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

Bad Education Script


  

  



 

                   

"The current spell of icy weather

has claimed its first victim.



 

                   

A motorcyclist froze to death

On Highway 4



 

                   

and drove for a further 90 km

after he was dead.



 

                   

Two patrolmen flagged him down



 

                   

and as he didn't react

they pursued him.



 

                   

They drove alongside



 

                   

and rebuked him for his attitude.



  

                   

As he didn't move

They realized something was wrong."



  

                   

It seems incredible.



  

                   

It's a wonderful image.



  

                   

A dead young man drives

his motorcycle across the icy plain,



  

                   

escorted by two patrolmen.



  

                   

Where was he going

in that icy dawn?



  

                   

To see someone who couldn't wait

until the morning.



  

                   

There's a story here!



  

                   

I'll cut it out and keep it,

it might inspire me.



  

                   

I'll get it.



  

                   

- Hello.

- What is it?



  

                   

I'm an actor.

I'm looking for Enrique Goded.



  

                   

He isn't here.



  

                   

But I can see him, man.



  

                   

In any case,

we don't have any projects so...



  

                   

I'd like to speak to him.

We were old pals at school.



  

                   

I'm Ignacio Rodriguez.



  

                   

- All right, come in.

- Thank you.



  

                   

- I don't think he'll see you.

- That's all right.



  

                   

Wait a minute.



  

                   

He's an actor, a nuisance!



  

                   

I told him

we aren't preparing a film now.



  

                   

- Tell him I'm not in.

- I did, but he saw you.



  

                   

And I can see him.



  

                   

He said he was

a friend of yours at school.



  

                   

- Who can he be?

- Ignacio Rodriguez.



  

                   

Ignacio?



  

                   

- It can't be!

- That's what he said.



  

                   

Ignacio, is it really you?



  

                   

Of course, Enrique.



  

                   

- I'm delighted you remember me!

- How could I forget you?



  

                   

Well, it's been sixteen years.



  

                   

- That long?

- More or less.



  

                   

I wouldn't recognize you

with that beard.



  

                   

You'd look better without it.

Come into my office.



  

                   

- You want a coffee?

- No, thanks.



  

                   

- I'm having one.

- Then, yes.



  

                   

- Martin, will you make some coffee?

- Yes.



  

                   

Sit down.



  

                   

What brings you here?



  

                   

I came to ask for work.

I'm an actor.



  

                   

I've brought my resume.



  

                   

- Bumblebee Group.

- An independent theater company.



  

                   

"El Retablillo de San Christobal"

By Garcia Lorca.



  

                   

"The Diary of Adam and Eve",

by Mark Twain



  

                   

Mark Twain, Garcia Lorca...



  

                   

Only the best

for the Bumblebee.



  

                   

Don't you write anymore?



  

                   

No, I stopped ages ago.



  

                   

But I've brought my last story.



  

                   

"THE VISIT"

by Ignacio Rodriguez



  

                   

"The Visit"...



  

                   

By the way, when are you starting

your next film?



  

                   

- Well...

- I'll do anything.



  

                   

We're eyeing tabloids

to see if I can think of stories.



  

                   

You've caught me

in a creative crisis.



  

                   

That's a bummer!



  

                   

Read my story,

it might give you some ideas.



  

                   

What's it about?



  

                   

Our school.



  

                   

One part is based

on our childhood,



  

                   

and the other part isn't,

when the characters grow up.



  

                   

That's fiction.



  

                   

I haven't introduced you.

Ignacio, Martin...



  

                   

Pleased to meet you.



  

                   

- Sugar and milk?

- Yes, please.



  

                   

By the way,

I don't call my self Ignacio now.



  

                   

I'm Angel.



  

                   

Why's that?



  

                   

It's my stage name.



  

                   

An actor can't be called

Ignacio Rodriguez.



  

                   

- He can't?

- Of course not.



  

                   

Angel Andrade.



  

                   

Everyone calls me that,

even my mother.



  

                   

That's great.



  

                   

Thank you.



  

                   

- Ignacio was...

- Angel!



  

                   

- Ignacio...

- Angel!



  

                   

Well, Ignacio,

before he became Angel,



  

                   

was..

is an old school friend.



  

                   

Martin is my production director.



  

                   

And maid of all work.



  

                   

- Well, Ignacio...

- Angel!



  

                   

Right!



  

                   

I'm delighted to see you.



  

                   

As soon as I've got anything...



  

                   

Give me your number,

I'll call you.



  

                   

I don't have a phone.



  

                   

But I'll call you.



  

                   

Shold I leave you another photo?

- No, don't worry.



   

                   

Well, Angel,

It was great seeing you.



   

                   

- So should I go?

- Yes I think so.



   

                   

Can't I help you cut out...?

- No, thanks a lot.



   

                   

- So long.

- My pleasure.



   

                   

You look great!



   

                   

So do you.



   

                   

- Do read "The Visit".

- Yes, I will.



   

                   

- I'm dying of curiosity.

- Great. See you.



   

                   

I thought he'd never leave!



   

                   

- Is he really a friend of yours?

- Yes.



   

                   

I haven't seen him

since school.



   

                   

We were reall close.



   

                   

Well, he was my first love.



   

                   

But he's changed a lot.



   

                   

I didn't recognize him.



   

                   

Will you see him again?



   

                   

It seemed that you liked him.



   

                   

No. there's nothing less erotic

than an actor looking for work.



   

                   

"The Visit".



   

                   

Ever since we started touring

with the show, "The Bomb"



   

                   

I've been waiting

for this moment.



   

                   

Today we're playing in the town

where I went to school.



   

                   

I won't mention its name

so as not to promote it.



   

                   

I owe my best memories

to the Olympo Cinema



   

                   

which is now in ruins.



   

                   

"THE BOMB"



   

                   

Card.



   

                   

- I'm fucking sick of losing!

- Then clear off.



   

                   

Take a break.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

She defines herself as



   

                   

a mix of desert, hazard,



   

                   

and cafeteria.



   

                   

She's a great artiste



   

                   

and a great friend of mine.



   

                   

With all of you,



   

                   

our next act,



   

                   

the mystery



   

                   

and the fascination



   

                   

of the one and only,



   

                   

the inimitable,



   

                   

Zahara!



   

                   

A bit of applause,

For Crissake!



   

                   

- So...

- What?



   

                   

- Listen...

- I'll see you at the hostel.



   

                   

- Yeah, but...

- Paquito, you heard me.



   

                   

You've got time

for everything, fag.



   

                   

Monda!



   

                   

Wait for me, love!



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

- What's wrong?

- I can't find my keys.



   

                   

May I help you?



   

                   

Sure.



   

                   

No, they're not here.



   

                   

Let's see.



   

                   

Not here either.



   

                   

Here they are!



   

                   

My lips are wearing out!



   

                   

I drank too much.



   

                   

You're telling me.



   

                   

Hey!

I'm sucking your dick!



   

                   

He's out cold!



   

                   

A kid.



   

                   

Not a cent.



   

                   

A lottery ticket.

I'll keep that.



   

                   

Don't start the engine

right outside.



   

                   

But he passed out!

Well hung, isn't he?



   

                   

He's not bad.



   

                   

And look, he's still hard!



   

                   

Love...



   

                   

- Let me suck him off a bit.

- No, you've got things to do.



   

                   

You've been at him for hours.

Look at your lip!



   

                   

Come on

the bike won't run away.



   

                   

Shut up!

Now, go hide the bike.



   

                   

Hurry back, I'll see you

in your room before  :  .



   

                   

Sure, I get all the dirty work

and you have all the fun.



   

                   

Now you got a hard-on,

asshole!



   

                   

It's not fair!



   

                   

Enrique Serrano.



   

                   

Enrique!



   

                   

Paquito!



   

                   

Come up here!



   

                   

What about the bike?



   

                   

Leave it there.

Come up.



   

                   

There's nothing like

loading up on drugs



   

                   

and on hormones



   

                   

to end up

as crazy as you, bitch.



   

                   

The keys!

We're not stealing the bike!



   

                   

Why not?

We've got a buyer.



   

                   

I'll explain later.

I'll meet you to go to mass.



   

                   

- So we're going to the school?

- Yes now more than ever.



   

                   

I'm flipped out, bitch!

- I bet.



   

                   

Dear Enrique.

It's me, Ignacio.



   

                   

I've dreamed so much

of this moment!



   

                   

Years have gone by,

but I've never forgotten you.



   

                   

We have to meet again,

but when you're not plastered.



   

                   

I want to tell you about my life

and hear about yours



   

                   

While we eat cream cake

in the Mallol Patisserie,



   

                   

like when we got out of school

on weekends.



   

                   

I'm not going

to complicate your life.



   

                   

I know you're married

and have a child.



   

                   

I know that

you live in the next town,



   

                   

that you're broke

and that I'd like to help you.



   

                   

Right now

I'm working on something,



   

                   

But I'll explain it all

in the patisserie.



   

                   

I'll wait for you from  :   to  :  .



   

                   

Do come!



   

                   

I adore you.



   

                   

Ignacio.



   

                   

Yes?

- I miss you.



   

                   

Have you unpacked

all the boxes?



   

                   

Not even half of them.



   

                   

Do you need a hand?

I don't mind, really.



   

                   

It's best if you don't. Martin.

Thanks.



   

                   

Can I call you later?



   

                   

I'm reading.

- Oh, do forgive me.



   

                   

Don't be so fucking touchy!



   

                   

I'll call you in a while.

- Do that, even if it's late.



   

                   

We saw Sara's first films here.



   

                   

And "Breakfast at Tiffany's"



   

                   

Enrique and I groped each other

for the first time here.



   

                   

My knees are trembling

just thinking about it.



   

                   

I'm meeting him at  :  

in the patisserie.



   

                   

Don't get your hopes up.

Remember he's married.



   

                   

If Fr. Manolo

hadn't separated us...



   

                   

What's he got to do with it?



   

                   

A lot, everything!



   

                   

That priest owes me a lot

and it's time for him to pay.



   

                   

I hate seeing you like this.



   

                   

You got anyhing left?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

Speedball.



   

                   

C'mon, let's have some!



   

                   

- Here?

- Of course.



   

                   

They haven't

rolled out the streets yet.



   

                   

Oh, fag !



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

A nailful for my gal Paca.



   

                   

One more

I believe in couples.



   

                   

Two fucks, two bumps,

two "amigas".



   

                   

"Two rode together",

"Two For The Road".



   

                   

You're such a pig!



   

                   

Right, let's go to school!



   

                   

*Gee up, girl!



   

                   

Come on, best foot forward.



   

                   

This was my school.



   

                   

I'm worn out.

Have you anything left?



   

                   

Be quiet.



   

                   

It's started.



   

                   

The God of hope who,

by the grace of the Holy Spirit,



   

                   

fills us with His joy and peace...



   

                   

That's Fr. Manolo.



   

                   

- He looks so old!

- Well, he's no chicken.



   

                   

I guess.



   

                   

Zahara, this is crazy!



   

                   

Are you backing out, bitch?



   

                   

But the chapel is tiny,

there's nowhere to hide.



   

                   

When he sees us appear,



   

                   

he'll do what Christ did

to the buyers in the temple.



   

                   

He drovee them out with a whip,

and he was Christ!



   

                   

So this man who, according

to you, is so imperfect...



   

                   

I confess to god,

the Father Almighty,



   

                   

and to you, my brethren,



   

                   

that I have sinned

through thought, word,



   

                   

deed and omission.



   

                   

Through my fault.



   

                   

- Through my fault.



   

                   

Through your fault.



   

                   

Through my most grievious fault.



   

                   

So I beseech

the Blessed Mary, ever virgin,



   

                   

the angels, the saints,



   

                   

and you, my brethren,



   

                   

to intercede for me

before Our Lord God.



   

                   

Almighty God,

have mercy on us,



   

                   

forgive us our sins

and lead us to eternal life.



   

                   

Through Jesus Christ Our Lord.



   

                   

We'll see.



   

                   

The Lord be with you.



   

                   

I could use Him.



   

                   

May the blessing

of almighty God,



   

                   

Father, Son and Holy Spirit



   

                   

descend upon you.



   

                   

You may go in peace.



   

                   

I hope so!



   

                   

Go back to the dormitory

and sleep a bit more.



   

                   

Thank you, Father.



   

                   

If I'm in the sacristy

for too long, don't wait.



   

                   

We'll meet at the hostel

for lunch,



   

                   

sweetheart.



   

                   

Cute.



   

                   

Divine!



   

                   

Good morning, Fr. Manolo.



   

                   

What do you want?

You can't come in here!



   

                   

I'm the sister of an ex-pupil,

Ignacio Rodriguez.



   

                   

You still can't come in here



   

                   

Don't you remember him?



   

                   

We've had a lot of pupils.



   

                   

But no one like Ignacio,

I'm sure.



   

                   

I've brought

an important message from him.



   

                   

He can give it to me himself.



   

                   

He can't.



   

                   

He died in an accident.



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

Now, please go.



   

                   

Go away!



   

                   

- Hide!

- I've got it all!



   

                   

Hide, he's coming!



   

                   

Ignacio...



   

                   

I told you to leave!

What are you doing here?



   

                   

The same as you,

remembering Ignacio.



   

                   

Get out!



   

                   

We have to talk, Father.



   

                   

It'll only take a minute.



   

                   

Say what you have to say

and go!



   

                   

Are we going to talk in the dark?



   

                   

I don't mind.



   

                   

I'm used to working

in the dark.



   

                   

What do you want?



   

                   

A better life



   

                   

and a better body.



   

                   

What do I have to do

with those improvements?



   

                   

You could help me

finance them.



   

                   

I don't believe

Ignacio is dead



   

                   

or that you're his sister.



   

                   

I don't even believe

you're a woman.



   

                   

Are you locking me in?



   

                   

I don't want anyone

coming in by mistake.



   

                   

And now,

tell me why you're here!



   

                   

OK. I'll get to the point.



   

                   

It's a story by Ignacio.



   

                   

Yes, he took your advice

and kept on writing.



   

                   

I've got a friend,

a pig,



   

                   

who works at "Diario   ".



   

                   

He  is very interested

in publishing this story.



   

                   

But first I'd like our opinion.



   

                   

Apart from being

Ignacio's literature teacher



   

                   

you're one of the main characters

in this story.



   

                   

Read this.



   

                   

Each month the boys

who got on the honors board,



   

                   

that is, the ones who got

the best grades,



   

                   

were rewarded

with a day in the country.



   

                   

We were always accompanied

by our literature teacher,



   

                   

Fr. Manolo.



   

                   

Moon River,



   

                   

always on my mind.



   

                   

I won't be swept away



   

                   

by the water,



   

                   

the muddy water



   

                   

of that Moon River



   

                   

as it flows along.



   

                   

River and moon,



   

                   

tell me where to find



   

                   

my God,

and good and ill.



   

                   

Tell me.



   

                   

I'm longing to know



   

                   

what is hidden



   

                   

in the dark



   

                   

and you'll find it...



   

                   

No!



   

                   

A trickle of blood

divided my forehead in two.



   

                   

I had a feeling the same thing

would happen with my life.



   

                   

It would always be divided

and I couldn't help it.



   

                   

Open the door, Father.

It is I.



   

                   

What is it?

- There's been a robbery.



   

                   

- Where?

- In the chapel.



   

                   

I think it was

after our mass.



   

                   

Were you missing anything?



   

                   

The chalice, the paten,

the jug, the cruets...



   

                   

They must be found!



   

                   

- The boys mustn't hear about it.

- Very well.



   

                   

And no one is to bother me,

except you.



   

                   

Was that Fr. Jos,?



   

                   

Ignacio hated him.



   

                   

- Does he still hit the pupils?

- He never laid a hand on Ignacio.



   

                   

That was

the principal's privilege.



   

                   

To sum up,

I want a million in cash.



   

                   

Or else "Diario   "

will publish the whole story.



   

                   

I don't have a million pesetas,

much less in cash.



   

                   

But you can get it.



   

                   

Now, if you don't mind,

I'm leaving.



   

                   

I've said all I had to say.



   

                   

But keep reading,

it gets better.



   

                   

- The key.

- Wait.



   

                   

Wait until after break time.



   

                   

It'll just be a minute.



   

                   

So you came to blackmail me.



   

                   

Tell Ignacio he's overrating

these pages. They're garbage!



   

                   

Garbage is hot!



   

                   

You and I make

a best-selling couple.



   

                   

And the editor of "Diario   "

knows that.



   

                   

You're in no position

to threaten anyone.



   

                   

People will believe me,

not you.



   

                   

No, people have changed.

This is     .



   

                   

The society puts my freedom

above your hypocrisy.



   

                   

If we treated Ignacio so badly,

why did he come back?



   

                   

Why didn't he report us

or change schools?



   

                   

He came back

'cause he'd fallen in love,



   

                   

with a classmate.



   

                   

Enrique Serrano.



   

                   

Remember him?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Do you mind if I keep reading?



   

                   

There were lots of celebrations

at school.



   

                   

The most important one

was Principal's Day.



   

                   

That day, there were

sports competitions



   

                   

and religious acts,

and we had a special meal.



   

                   

Come with me, Ignacio.



   

                   

Come along!



   

                   

- I haven't finished.

- You'll sing better that way.



   

                   

Do you know the new words?



   

                   

Yes, I've got the crib

Fr. Manolo gave me.



   

                   

Call him Reverend Principal.



   

                   

He's the school principal

from today.



   

                   

- I know.

- Don't answer back.



   

                   

When you're singing,

keep looking at him,



   

                   

as if there were no one else

in the dining room.



   

                   

- You understand?

- Yes.



   

                   

- Yes.



   

                   

Fr. Jos placed me

In the center of the dining room.



   

                   

I felt odd in front of

all those priests drinking and eating,



   

                   

and I was a bit scared,



   

                   

but they all looked at me kindly,

except Fr. Manolo



   

                   

who looked ready to cry.



   

                   

And now,



   

                   

Fr. Jos, Manuel,



   

                   

as a birthday gift,



   

                   

Ignacio is going to sing



   

                   

one of your favorite songs.



   

                   

"Torna A Sorrento".



   

                   

The new words, "Gardener",



   

                   

were written by Fr. Manolo,



   

                   

helped by my humble self.



   

                   

When you're ready, Ignacio.



   

                   

Gardener, gardener,



   

                   

night and day

among our flowers,



   

                   

setting fire to their colors



   

                   

with the flame of our love.



   

                   

And you place in every calyx



   

                   

the smile of your yearning,



   

                   

with your eyes

turned up to heaven



   

                   

where all your hopes reside.



   

                   

And your flowers, gardener,



   

                   

with their corollas

burning brightly



   

                   

join together in gratitude



   

                   

and embalm you

with their scent.



   

                   

Continue with your labor,



   

                   

cultivating all the flowers



   

                   

entrusted to your love



   

                   

by the Lord.



   

                   

- I thought you didn't like me.

- No, just the opposite!



   

                   

But every time I looked at you,

you looked away.



   

                   

Because you made me nervous.



   

                   

- And now I don't?

- No.



   

                   

"THAT WOMAN"



   

                   

Come in.



   

                   

May I help you?



   

                   

Don't you recognize me, Mother?



   

                   

Has the world

changed me so much?



   

                   

Mother Soledad!



   

                   

What are you doing here?



   

                   

- I've come to stay.

- To stay?



   

                   

Sara is so beautiful!



   

                   

In this house?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Never.



   

                   

It's been a long time.



   

                   

who can remember if I did something

I shouldn't have?



   

                   

It's impossible.



   

                   

It is not God

who rejects you.



   

                   

It is I,



   

                   

in the name of my Order.



   

                   

What's wrong?

- I can't sleep.



   

                   

Neither can I.



   

                   

What we did in the cinema

wasn't right.



   

                   

- I liked it.

- So did I.



   

                   

But I think it was a sin,

and God's going to punish us.



   

                   

God?



   

                   

I don't believe in God.



   

                   

- What do you believe in?

- I'm a hedonist.



   

                   

- What's that?

- People who like having fun.



   

                   

I read it in an encyclopedia.



   

                   

What's the matter?



   

                   

You hear that?



   

                   

Fr. Manolo!



   

                   

Open the door!

Or must I break it down



   

                   

and let the whole school

know what you're doing?



   

                   

Ignacio!



   

                   

I know you're in there!



   

                   

I've seen your feet.



   

                   

I can hear you breathing.



   

                   

Ignacio!



   

                   

We're not doing anything!



   

                   

Get out!



   

                   

I'll deal with you later!



   

                   

I'm not leaving Ignacio

alone with you.



   

                   

How dare you!



   

                   

Get out of here immediately!



   

                   

Enrique, please.



   

                   

Do as he says.



   

                   

Come here.



   

                   

What were you doing in there?



   

                   

Nothing.



   

                   

Nothing?



   

                   

I swear, Father.



   

                   

Then why was the door locked?



   

                   

Come along.



   

                   

Come with me to the chapel.



   

                   

The bell!



   

                   

What are you thinking of?



   

                   

I think I've just lost my faith

at this moment,



   

                   

so I no longer believe

in God or hell.



   

                   

As I don't believe in hell

I'm not afraid,



   

                   

and without fear

I'm capable of anything.



   

                   

We'll forget this, Ignacio.



   

                   

Even if I wanted to,

I can't stay angry with you.



   

                   

But I promise what happened

tonight won't happen again.



   

                   

And Enrique?



   

                   

What about him?



   

                   

Will he be punished?



   

                   

I should expel him!



   

                   

I'm sure he was

responsible for it all.



   

                   

No, I was.



   

                   

Don't cry.



   

                   

He's a very bad influence on you.



   

                   

I want what's best for you.



   

                   

If you don't expel him

I'll do what you want.



   

                   

Hush.



   

                   

I sold myself for the first time

in that sacristy



   

                   

to avoid Enrique

being expelled.



   

                   

But Fr. Manolo tricked me.



   

                   

I swore that one day

I'd make him pay for that.



   

                   

On your feet!



   

                   

Hands behind our head!



   

                   

And, one!



   

                   

Change!



   

                   

Hurry up, Enrique!

We'll miss the bus!



   

                   

I'm happy you came!



   

                   

- You're better withoutthe beard.

- Thank you.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

I'm re-reading your story.



   

                   

- Didn't you like it the first time?

- Of course!



   

                   

Just look at it.



   

                   

I couldn't help making notes.

Force of habit.



   

                   

That's OK-

It's your copy.



   

                   

Thanks.



   

                   

Right, well...

How can I put this?



   

                   

I think there's a good film

in this story



   

                   

and I'd like to direct it.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

You're not kidding me?



   

                   

I never joke about work.



   

                   

But firs, tell me how much

you want for the rights.



   

                   

What rights?



   

                   

The story is yours!



   

                   

Do what you fucking want

with it!



   

                   

So you really liked it?



   

                   

I admit that when you said

it was based on our childhood



   

                   

I felt...



   

                   

a bit apprehensive.



   

                   

But I was very touched.



   

                   

I'm so happy, man.



   

                   

Remember I'm an actor

and I want out of Bumblebee



   

                   

Yes, I know that.



   

                   

You'd be perfect

as Enrique Serrano.



   

                   

Naked on the bed,



   

                   

with Zahara's letter

on the pillow.



   

                   

Enrique Serrano?



   

                   

I think I'd rather play Zahara.



   

                   

Zahara, you?



   

                   

You're crazy!



   

                   

- Why?

- Well...



   

                   

You're too well-built.

You're not right.



   

                   

Martin, we've got our story!



   

                   

I can slim down!

I can get into the part!



   

                   

I'm used to that in the theater.

Like De Niro...



   

                   

Make a photocopy.



   

                   

"The Visit"?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Ignacio and I are starting

on the script.



   

                   

If you're going to direct it,

it's best if you write it yourself.



   

                   

All right, Ignacio.



   

                   

Angel!

Start calling me Angel,



   

                   

or you'll never get used to it.



   

                   

Do you mind driving?



   

                   

I'm a bit shaky.



   

                   

I'm surprised you can even walk,

with all you've taken.



   

                   

- We had to celebrate, right?



   

                   

I thought we'd be talking

about the project.



   

                   

We'll talk later.



   

                   

We've got time.



   

                   

Remember?



   

                   

Remember what?



   

                   

Nothing.



   

                   

You're really high.



   

                   

What should I remember?



   

                   

Nothing.



   

                   

Turn off here.



   

                   

Is all this ours?



   

                   

No, no way.

I've just rented it.



   

                   

Don't be too impressed,

it's a mess inside.



   

                   

How about a swim?



   

                   

It would do you good.



   

                   

How's the water?



   

                   

It's waiting for you.



   

                   

"THE PEARL"



   

                   

Will you pass me a cigarette?



   

                   

You weren't serious about

playing Zahara, were you?



   

                   

Totally.



   

                   

I don't joke about work either.



   

                   

Then let's not talk about work.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

Sleeping here

or going back to Madrid?



   

                   

If you want, I'll stay.



   

                   

But, talking about bodies,



   

                   

if I look too manly

I can slim down.



   

                   

I'm very flexible,

I can do anything.



   

                   

You disconcert me, Angel.



   

                   

You told me that already.



   

                   

And you told me

about slimming down.



   

                   

Why don't we just talk clearly?



   

                   

I can't say it

any more clearly!



   

                   

I'm an actor.



   

                   

I spent three fucking years

doing shit with Bumblebee.



   

                   

This is my first chance

to get a terrific part



   

                   

and I won't let it slip away.



   

                   

You can't do Zahara.



   

                   

Not at first sight,

but give me time!



   

                   

You're a good director,



   

                   

and I'll do anything!



   

                   

You just have

to trust both of us.



   

                   

I've tried.



   

                   

But I can't trust you.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

I just can't recognize

the Ignacio I knew at school.



   

                   

The one who loved "Cuore Matto",

and so many other things.



   

                   

My tastes have changed.



   

                   

Is that what bothers you?



   

                   

People change with time.



   

                   

Not you.



   

                   

Simply, you're not Ignacio.



   

                   

Who the fuck are you to decide

who I am or who I'm not?



   

                   

How dare you?



   

                   

Why am I not Ignacio?



   

                   

Because I don't remember

a song from years ago?



   

                   

- Apart from that.

- Because I'm not sucking our dick?



   

                   

If I'd stayed the kid you knew,

I'd be dead now.



   

                   

I already am.



   

                   

Dead tired.



   

                   

I'm going to bed.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

You tell me.



   

                   

Tell you what?



   

                   

If I'm going to play Zahara.



   

                   

Does your staying

depend on that?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

But if I don't play Zahara

there's no film.



   

                   

Then I don't know

why you're here, cockteaser.



   

                   

Get out!



   

                   

Why the hell did I decide

to see you again, fucking faggot!



   

                   

"A woman threw herself

into a pool of hungry crocodiles



   

                   

in a zoo that was crowded

with visitors at the time.



   

                   

When the first crocodile attacked,

the woman hugged it,



   

                   

according to witnesses.



   

                   

The crocodiles devoured

the body of the woman,



   

                   

who never complained,



   

                   

in a few minutes."



   

                   

What a horrible death!



   

                   

Well...



   

                   

She didn't even open her mouth.



   

                   

What's on your mind?



   

                   

Hungry crocodiles.



   

                   

Hello, come in.



   

                   

It's the journalist.



   

                   

Why are you here?



   

                   

To interview me?



   

                   

No.

Well, yes.



   

                   

Which is it, cutie?



   

                   

I'm not a journalist,

I'm an actor.



   

                   

And I'd like you to help me

prepare a character.



   

                   

What character?



   

                   

A tranny who imitates

Sara Montiel, among others.



   

                   

That's me!

Why don't they give me the part?



   

                   

Well, you're not an actor,

you're just a faggot.



   

                   

What you have to learn

is how to be polite,



   

                   

because that's no way

to treat a lady!



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

So will you teach me?



   

                   

And how will you pay me,

honey?



   

                   

That's what I'm looking for!



   

                   

Two minutes!



   

                   

We'll talk later.



   

                   

I'm on now.



   

                   

Everything you do

is great for me.



   

                   

I'm delighted.



   

                   

See you later.



   

                   

"THE PEARL"



   

                   

Ortigueira,   miles.



   

                   

"THE PEARL HOSTEL"



   

                   

- What can I get you?

- A beer.



   

                   

Forgive me for asking,

but how did you get that lighter?



   

                   

- You're not from here.

- I stole it from a friend.



   

                   

His family lives here.



   

                   

Maybe you know him.

His name is Angel Andrade.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

- That's his stage name.

- Sure I know him.



   

                   

- You do?

- Yes, very well.



   

                   

That's great.



   

                   

Who is it?



   

                   

Enrique.

I was at school with Ignacio.



   

                   

Go away

or I'll call the police!



   

                   

Excuse me.



   

                   

Are you Enrique Goded?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

I'm Ignacio's mother.



   

                   

I'm delighted to meet you.



   

                   

- Come in.

- Thank you.



   

                   

Forgive my sister-in-law.



   

                   

I've got the heart problem

but she's the one gets scared.



   

                   

It doesn't matter.



   

                   

Ignacio talked a lot about you.



   

                   

- We were very good friends.

- I know.



   

                   

The last time he came to see me

He wrote you a letter.



   

                   

A letter?



   

                   

I never got it.



   

                   

It was three years ago.



   

                   

He didn't know your address.

he sent it to the Ministry of Culture.



   

                   

Then I'm not surprised.



   

                   

By the time it was returned,

he was dead.



   

                   

Let's go into the dining room.



   

                   

That's my son Juan.



   

                   

The younger boy.



   

                   

He's in the theater.



   

                   

He's changed his name.



   

                   

He says

there are too many Juans.



   

                   

He wants even me

to call him Angel.



   

                   

I'd like to see Ignacio's room.



   

                   

To be honest,

he didn't really have a room.



   

                   

But when he came,

he liked to use the attic.



   

                   

Would you like to see it?



   

                   

We're going upstairs!



   

                   

Juan burned everything.



   

                   

The notebooks, the clothes...



   

                   

All except those magazines.



   

                   

There's nothing left

of what Ignacio wrote?



   

                   

What a pity!



   

                   

Are you from a publisher too?



   

                   

What publisher?



   

                   

Soon after Ignacio died,



   

                   

a man came who was in charge

of publishing young authors,



   

                   

or so he said.



   

                   

He was desparate to get

his hands on Ignacio's stories.



   

                   

Do you remember his name,

or the publisher's?



   

                   

No, but he was very insistent.



   

                   

So I told the truth,

that Juan had burned everything,



   

                   

and he even asked

for Juan's address.



   

                   

I gave him a false one,

of course.



   

                   

I think the man

was half mad.



   

                   

This is Ignacio's letter.



   

                   

It didn't get burned



   

                   

because I never told Juan

it had been returned.



   

                   

Thank you, ma'am.



   

                   

Don't judge my Juan.



   

                   

He's a good son



   

                   

but his brother's death

really hit him.



   

                   

He was the one who found him.



   

                   

Dear Enrique,



   

                   

At last I've got news of you.



   

                   

I read it in the papers.



   

                   

You've directed

your first film, man.



   

                   

Even if it was underground.

And to think I was the film buff!



   

                   

You'll be pleased to hear

I'm still writing.



   

                   

I'm enclosing a story

that would make a divine film.



   

                   

Fr. Manolo inspired it.



   

                   

It's incredible, but I ran into him

the other day in Valencia.



   

                   

I'm visiting my mother now,

but I live in Valencia.



   

                   

I've checked up,

he isn't a priest anymore.



   

                   

He calls himself

by his last name, Berenguer.



   

                   

He works in a publisher's,

he's married and has a son.



   

                   

I thought: He's crying out

to be blackmailed!



   

                   

So I wrote "The Visit",

the story I'm sending you.



   

                   

Read it, please.



   

                   

At this point in my life,

I need a lot of money



   

                   

and I'm going to get it

from that fucker!



   

                   

He owes me a lot,



   

                   

and it's time for him to pay.



   

                   

Writ to me and I'll tell you

the rest of the story.



   

                   

All I'm asking

is to hear from you.



   

                   

I can only share this story

with you.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

Your Ignacio.



   

                   

I'll get it.



   

                   

What do you want?



   

                   

I've come to apologize.



   

                   

I'll give you your shorts.

You left them behind.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

I'm very sorry

about what I said.



   

                   

I take it all back.



   

                   

If you're still interested.

"The Visit" is yours.



   

                   

Do it with whoever

and however you want.



   

                   

Have you lost weight?



   

                   

Yes.

I'm really working at it.



   

                   

I want to lose even more.

And I'm taking classes.



   

                   

- Classes in what?

- In how to be a queen.



   

                   

I'm working with the best

Sara Montiel impersonator.



   

                   

She performs at "Bambola",

a gay club.



   

                   

I'm working as a waiter there



   

                   

so I can study the queens

more closely.



   

                   

Then you're still

thinking about Zahara.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Just let me do an audition.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

- You had it!

- Yes you left that behind too.



   

                   

Ignacio,

I'd like to talk...



   

                   

Until you call me Angel, I wont

believe you're taking me seriously.



   

                   

Angel,

I'm sure you're a good actor,



   

                   

now more than ever.



   

                   

So you'll let me audition?



   

                   

The audition worked

for several months,



   

                   

long enough for me to throw myself

into the shooting of "The Visit",



   

                   

like the woman who

threw herself to the crocodiles



   

                   

and hugged them

as they ate her.



   

                   

You've changed the ending.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

"The Visit" cant end happily,

like your story.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

Zahara can't just

walk out of the school.



   

                   

She's a danger to the priests.



   

                   

And we know

what the Church is capable of.



   

                   

But this ending

is really heavy, man.



   

                   

For you, as an actor,

it's much more interesting.



   

                   

- You think so?

- Of course.



   

                   

I shot "The Visit"

as a homage to Ignacio.



   

                   

In his letter, he said

he'd love to see it on the screen.



   

                   

And also to discover

the enigma of Juan.



   

                   

He allowed me

to penetrate him frequently,



   

                   

but only physically.



   

                   

We were about to finish shooting

and my mystery was still intact.



   

                   

But on the last day



   

                   

we had a visit.



   

                   

Silence!



   

                   

And... roll camera!



   

                   

Rolling!



   

                   

"The Visit"

       first take.



   

                   

Zahara, darling!



   

                   

Action!



   

                   

The boys are in class

and I'm sick of arguing.



   

                   

Let me out!



   

                   

Do you want to kidnap me?



   

                   

Open the door!



   

                   

I have to take a piss,

buy cigarettes, get a fix!



   

                   

Even if I got the money,



   

                   

how can I be sure

you won't blackmail me again?



   

                   

You'll never be sure.



   

                   

That's my revenge.



   

                   

Let me out or I'll scream.



   

                   

I loved Ignacio.



   

                   

You don't love a boy of ten.

You harass him, you abuse him!



   

                   

I loved him.



   

                   

Please, let me out!



   

                   

I'm locked in!



   

                   

She's threatening

to denounce us.



   

                   

She wants a million pesetas

to keep quiet.



   

                   

If you give her a single peseta,

you'll never stop paying.



   

                   

I knew we'd meet again,

scum!



   

                   

You know her?



   

                   

You knew him

much better than I did.



   

                   

It's Ignacio Rodriguez.



   

                   

Ignacio!



   

                   

It can't be!



   

                   

We have to finish him off.



   

                   

He's a danger to the

whole congregation!



   

                   

He wants to say something.



   

                   

Yes, that we let him go.



   

                   

If you're going to kill me,



   

                   

I'd like to confess first.



   

                   

Confess what?



   

                   

Thanks to you

we've got no way out.



   

                   

You have to stay calm.



   

                   

I'll get rid of the body.



   

                   

How?



   

                   

It's best if you know nothing.



   

                   

It was self-defense.



   

                   

He'd have made

our lives impossible.



   

                   

Yes,



   

                   

I guess so.



   

                   

And there are no witnesses.



   

                   

God.



   

                   

Yes,



   

                   

But He's on our side.



   

                   

Cut!



   

                   

We've cut, guys!



   

                   

This one's good.

What about the other one?



   

                   

Give me No.   as well.



   

                   

Well done, guys.



   

                   

No, it was great.



   

                   

Is anything wrong?



   

                   

I'll see you later.



   

                   

It went really well.



   

                   

Put that down!

Who are you?



   

                   

The villain in your film.



   

                   

Fr. Manolo!



   

                   

Mr. Berenguer.



   

                   

I'm even a father

To my own son now.



   

                   

Get out!



   

                   

I read in a magazine

that you were here.



   

                   

Go and drink some hot milk

with honey, and an aspirin,



   

                   

and leave me alone.



   

                   

I've got a lot to do,

I can't waste time on you.



   

                   

Not even to find out

how Ignacio died?



   

                   

Or who killed him?



   

                   

And if it coincides

with your film?



   

                   

Say what you have to say

and go.



   

                   

I was living in Valencia.



   

                   

I worked for a publisher

that promoted young writers.



   

                   

Three years ago, I received

a story called "The Visit",



   

                   

signed by Ignacio Rodriguez.



   

                   

Ignacio Rodriguez is calling

about the new writers anthology.



   

                   

Didn't you tell him

he was rejected?



   

                   

Yes, but he insists

on speaking to you.



   

                   

He's on your line.



   

                   

- Mr. Jos, Manuel Berenguer?

- Yes.



   

                   

- I preferred Fr. Manolo.

- Excuse me?



   

                   

- Are you the author of "The Visit"?

- Yes.



   

                   

We decided not to include it

in "Short Stories of the   s"



   

                   

- I'm sorry.

- You and I have to talk.



   

                   

I think not.

I've got nothing more to say.



   

                   

But I do.



   

                   

I went to St. John's School.



   

                   

You were my literature teacher,



   

                   

and you were

madly in love with me.



   

                   

I remember how

you'd embrace me from behind



   

                   

while you declared your love.



   

                   

I can't believe you've forgotten.



   

                   

I remember the buttons

on your soutane



   

                   

digging into my backbone.



   

                   

Have you realy forgotten?



   

                   

I'll expect you

at my house at  :  .



   

                   

My address is on the back

of the envelope, Fr. Manolo.



   

                   

Push the door.



   

                   

It's just stuck.



   

                   

That wasn't the Ignacio

you and I loved.



   

                   

Hello, Mr. Berenguer.



   

                   

I'm Ignacio.



   

                   

Please, come in.



   

                   

Yes I'm a junkie



   

                   

but I want to quit

and I thought you could help me.



   

                   

Well, I know a clinic.



   

                   

So do I, but first I want

to fix my self up a bit.



   

                   

I know I've got divine tits,

but everything else...



   

                   

Anyway, I won't get into that.



   

                   

Looking pretty

costs a lot of money, Fr. Manolo.



   

                   

I think a million would do it.



   

                   

A million?



   

                   

Yes, in cash, and my lips

are sealed. I won't say a word.



   

                   

You're out of our mind!



   

                   

Sexual harassment

is frowned upon, Fr. Manolo.



   

                   

What would your wife think,

or your boss?



   

                   

You're in no position

to blackmail anyone.



   

                   

I could have you

arrested tonight.



   

                   

Very well.



   

                   

You call the police,

I'll call our wife and the media.



   

                   

A blackmailer can't be

as defenseless as you are.



   

                   

Believe me,

I know what I'm saying.



   

                   

Juan, go back to your room.



   

                   

I want to watch TV.



   

                   

Watch it later,

We're talking business.



   

                   

I don't mind if he stays.



   

                   

I'm sure you don't.



   

                   

He's my brother,

he's looking after me.



   

                   

Or that's my mother's idea.



   

                   

I'm Mr. Berenguer.



   

                   

One million, end of story.



   

                   

Do you want me

to call him Juan,



   

                   

or Angel?



   

                   

The blackmail

became an investment for me.



   

                   

I visited the brothers frequently

so I could keep seeing Juan.



   

                   

Remember Don Narciso,

The Nazi?



   

                   

He loved my illustrations.

Look at this one.



   

                   

And there's another one...

Look, this is beautiful.



   

                   

And this one...



   

                   

- "Children of Spain".

- I brought you this.



   

                   

I kept Ignacio happy

with small amounts of money.



   

                   

And I kept stalling him.



   

                   

I desired Juan,



   

                   

more and more everyday.



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

You brought the dough?



   

                   

I can only give you      .



   

                   

You said

you'd bring the million!



   

                   

I said they'd tell me today

If I'd get the loan.



   

                   

They said yes,



   

                   

but they have

to check my guarantees.



   

                   

I need another three weeks.



   

                   

Another three weeks!



   

                   

I'm a junkie.

Haven't you noticed?



   

                   

I could be dead in three weeks.



   

                   

- Are you going away?

- Obviously!



   

                   

I want to see my mother

before I check in.



   

                   

She has to see me with these teeth

and this face, and it's your fault!



    

                   

Don't be unfair, Ignacio,

I'm doing what I can.



    

                   

Then do more!



    

                   

I'll be gone for a week.



    

                   

When I come back

I want that million.



    

                   

If you don't have it, you'll be sorry.

I'm sick of being put off!



    

                   

I'll try to hurry them up, but...



    

                   

Father!



    

                   

Come along.



    

                   

Shall I help you?



    

                   

Sure, take the Olivetti,

it's the heaviest.



    

                   

While you're at it,

take this too.



    

                   

Stop that taxi.



    

                   

- Bye, Father.

- Goodbye.



    

                   

Open the trunk, please.



    

                   

My scarf!



    

                   

Excuse me.



    

                   

I've come for my scarf.

I must have left it here.



    

                   

- Fuck, it's really soft!

- Silk



    

                   

It's yours.



    

                   

To be honest,

I left it here for you.



    

                   

Cut it out,

I'm not Ignacio!



    

                   

Fortunately.



    

                   

What time is it?



    

                   

  :  .



    

                   

Did he give you anything

for me?



    

                   

Ignacio? No.



    

                   

Fuck!



    

                   

I had to pay

my school fees today.



    

                   

Are you studying?



    

                   

Yes. Drama.



    

                   

I'm an actor.



    

                   

Selfish bastard!



    

                   

He knew I had to pay today

and he didn't give me anything.



    

                   

Obviously, I paid his fees.



    

                   

I hadn't told Ignacio,



    

                   

but the bank granted me

a loan of two million.



    

                   

I withdrew the first million.



    

                   

I told my wife I was going

to a conference abroad.



    

                   

She didn't believe me.



    

                   

I guess

that doesn't interest you.



    

                   

Not in the least.



    

                   

How did Ignacio die?



    

                   

The week Juan and I

spent alone



    

                   

was the happiest in my life.



    

                   

Every day

I bought him something.



    

                   

Clothes, a walkman,

a Super-  camera.



    

                   

I enjoyed the gifts

more than he did.



    

                   

Take off your shirt.



    

                   

Take it off.



    

                   

Now it's my turn!



    

                   

Now take that off.



    

                   

Show me your cock.



    

                   

If you're going to shoot my dick,



    

                   

don't show my face!



    

                   

Too late.



    

                   

I can't...!



    

                   

You!

Give me some dough!



    

                   

I've got the fucking sweats.



    

                   

- How's mom?

- She had another heart attack.



    

                   

But she's all right now.

I'm the one who's sick.



    

                   

The dough!



    

                   

- More!

- That's all I have.



    

                   

I want that million now!

No more excuses!



    

                   

No more stalling

and no more gifts.



    

                   

Mom!



    

                   

How are you, Juan?

Has Ignacio arrived?



    

                   

Yes.



    

                   

What happened this time?



    

                   

The usual thing, son, but...



    

                   

He stole my pension,

and I'd just gotten it!



    

                   

- Is that true?

- Yes, love, it is.



    

                   

Tell auntie

I'll send her some money.



    

                   

He promised me

he was going into a clinic.



    

                   

And you believed him?



    

                   

Yes, this time he really means it

He's going to try.



    

                   

- You have to help him.

- How?



    

                   

By being with him.

Don't leave him.



    

                   

Promise me.



    

                   

I promise.



    

                   

Listen, did he give you



    

                   

the cheese and the chorizos?



    

                   

Delicious!



    

                   

Why did you bother?



    

                   

There's food in Valencia.

Don't spend your money.



    

                   

They're your favorites.

I'd kept them for you.



    

                   

You can't get them in Valencia

- All right, thanks.



    

                   

- Lots of love, son.

- Yes, call me if anything happens.



    

                   

Don't worry, I will.



    

                   

Bye.



    

                   

Where's Ignacio?



    

                   

I'm going to kill him!



    

                   

It was Juan's idea.



    

                   

Or mine, I don't know.



    

                   

Thhe only solution

was to get rid of him.



    

                   

More or less

what you've just shot.



    

                   

But not as violent.



    

                   

How did you think of it?



    

                   

Ignacio's story

doesn't end like that.



    

                   

While I was adapting it,

I found out that Ignacio was dead.



    

                   

Did Juan tell you?



    

                   

I found out my self.



    

                   

Willl you just tell me

how it happened?



    

                   

I arranged to meet Juan

at the Museum of Giant Figures.



    

                   

He had it all planned out.



    

                   

Much more than

it seemed at first.



    

                   

I'll buy the junk

and you give it to him.



    

                   

Why me?



    

                   

Fuck, he's my brother!



    

                   

I'm not a monster.



    

                   

Do you think

this doesn't hurt me?



    

                   

But he's ruining all our lives.



    

                   

What will we do afterwards?



    

                   

We won't meet for a while.



    

                   

Why?



    

                   

You said

there'd be no investigation.



    

                   

Just in case.



    

                   

It's best

not to arouse suspicion.



    

                   

I'll go and look after my mother,

she'll need it.



    

                   

When things calm down,

I'll call you and we'll go away.



    

                   

- Have you got the money?

- Yes.



    

                   

What will I do

while I'm waiting?



    

                   

Work, earn money.

We'll need it.



    

                   

The situation at home

is unbearable.



    

                   

Apologize to your wife

and enjoy your son.



    

                   

- Tell her the truth,

- What?



    

                   

Say you've been

with someone else,



    

                   

a woman.



    

                   

Give me your mother's address.



    

                   

It's best if I don't.



    

                   

Then you won't be tempted

to come see me.



    

                   

What are they laughing at?



    

                   

They're laughing at us.



    

                   

At me, at least.



    

                   

Juan bought deadly pure heroin.



    

                   

He gave it to me



    

                   

and I went to Ignacio's.



    

                   

Alone.



    

                   

Dear Enrique:



    

                   

I think I've succeeded...



    

                   

This is my last fix.



    

                   

What do you mean?



    

                   

I'm quitting.



    

                   

This time I really am.



    

                   

Before I get my face

and all the rest done,



    

                   

I'm checking

into a detox clinic.



    

                   

I've already applied.



    

                   

Good.



    

                   

You'll have the money tomorrow.



    

                   

I hope so.



    

                   

Before noon, OK?



    

                   

Just in case,

I wrote two letters,



    

                   

one for the publisher

and the other for your wife,



    

                   

telling all you've hidden from them

in the past and present.



    

                   

- That's unnecessary. Give them to me!

- When I get the money.



    

                   

Before noon.



    

                   

Pretty, aren't they?



    

                   

What?



    

                   

My tits.



    

                   

Yes, they're wonderful.



    

                   

Thank you.



    

                   

Shall I help you?



    

                   

Go away.



    

                   

I don't like fixing

in front of you.



    

                   

It's done.



    

                   

Pull in here.



    

                   

We'll go to the cinema

to kill time.



    

                   

"FILM NOIR WEEK"



    

                   

It's as if all films

were talking about us.



    

                   

Now what?



    

                   

I'm going home.



    

                   

- You want me to go with you?

- No, you'd better not.



    

                   

Remember to get

those two letters.



    

                   

If you don't

we'll be in trouble.



    

                   

I'll get everything,

don't worry.



    

                   

If we won't be seeing

each other for a while,



    

                   

give me some of the Super- s.



    

                   

It would console me

to see us screwing.



    

                   

You're nuts!



    

                   

What if your wife saw them?



    

                   

We have to burn them.

I'll take care of that.



    

                   

Let's go.



    

                   

Get in for a minute.



    

                   

No, I'm going to take a taxi



    

                   

Then,



    

                   

I won't see you again...



    

                   

It's just for a few days.



    

                   

Call me as soon as you can.



    

                   

Yes.



    

                   

What's wrong?



    

                   

You!



    

                   

At last!



    

                   

I read in this film magazine

that you were here.



    

                   

What did you tell him?



    

                   

Everything.



    

                   

- Now you only have me, darling.

- You're crazy.



    

                   

Remember I've got

my brother's letters,



    

                   

accusing you of his death.



    

                   

- We both did it, my love.

- The letters only mention you.



    

                   

Wait.



    

                   

- Are you all right?

- Leave me alone!



    

                   

If I ever see you again,

I swear I'll kill you!



    

                   

Now that I've found you,

I won't let you go.



    

                   

Get used to the idea.



    

                   

Monica!



    

                   

- Can you give me a lift?

- Sure.



    

                   

Get in the front.



    

                   

- Who was that?

- Someone looking for Enrique.



    

                   

Who is it?



    

                   

It's me.



    

                   

Give me back the keys.



    

                   

Your things are in the hall.

Take them away.



    

                   

The taxi's gone.



    

                   

You'll have to lend me the car

or drive me back to Madrid.



    

                   

I want to order a taxi.



    

                   

   Avenida del Agua.



    

                   

Enrique Goded, yes.



    

                   

Thank you.



    

                   

I was going to tell you

after the shoot.



    

                   

Tell me what?



    

                   

That my name is Juan.



    

                   

That I'm Ignacio's brother

and Ignacio died four years ago.



    

                   

I knew that already.



    

                   

I know that you knew.



    

                   

What do you mean?



    

                   

My mother rang to tell me

you'd been to the house.



    

                   

I guessed

you'd learned everything.



    

                   

When you asked for the audition,

you knew that I knew?



    

                   

Yes.



    

                   

And you still kept pretending?



    

                   

What else could I do?



    

                   

I didn't lie,

you knew everyhing.



    

                   

No, I didn't, far from it.



    

                   

I knew that you'd taken Ignacio's place

and that he was dead,



    

                   

but I never imagined

that you'd killed him!



    

                   

That's the taxi.



    

                   

I didn't kill him, Berenguer did!

Ignacio was blackmailing him.



    

                   

And you were hustling him!



    

                   

The taxi's waiting.



    

                   

You don't know what it is

to have a brother like that



    

                   

and live in a small town.



    

                   

Juan,



    

                   

the taxi is waiting.



    

                   

Why did you choose me?



    

                   

You still don't see me

as Zahara.



    

                   

Was it just to fuck me?



    

                   

It was curiosity.



    

                   

I wanted to see

how far you would go



    

                   

and how much I could take.



    

                   

I would go a lot further.



    

                   

I bet you would.



    

                   

You needn't explain anymore.



    

                   

It's not mine.

It's from Ignacio.



    

                   

Dear Enrique:

I think I've succeeded...



    

                   

"After the release of "The Visit"



    

                   

Angel Andrade

became the top heart throb.



    

                   

His reign

lasted for ten years.



    

                   

In the '  s, his career

suffered ups and downs.



    

                   

He married Monica,

the wardrobe girl.



    

                   

At present,

he works solely on TV series."



    

                   

"Mr. Berenguer

(formerly Fr. Manolo)



    

                   

didn't vanish from the life

of Angel Andrade (Juan).



    

                   

He started asking for money

and blackmailing him.



    

                   

One night, he was run down

and killed by a car that didn't stop.



    

                   

The car was driven

By Angel Andrade."



    

                   

"Enrique Goded is still making films

With the same passion."











  

 
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