BUNUELAND KING SOLOMON'S TABLE
You see
this map?
The Table was the most valuable object in Solomon's Temple,
next to the Ark of the Covenant.
When Emperor Titus sacked the Temple
in the year 70,
he took it to Rome.
In turn, Rome was sacked by Alaric
in the year 410,
which meant that
the Table fell into the hands of the Goths,
and the Goths,
in the year 507,
transported it
to their new capital, Toledo.
Am I boring you?
No, on the contrary.
When the Arabs conquered Toledo,
Musa the Moor
was so astonished
when he saw the Table that he hid it from sight.
But his deputy, Tariq,
removed one of its
365 legs,
replacing it with an imitation.
They say that for that single leg
he was paid 200 thousand dinars.
- What is the Table's significance? - Perhaps...
it was a metallic mirror
of some special alloy.
A mirror whose curvature
could vary
by means of some unknown mechanism.
In "1001 Nights" it says
that the Table was a mirror
that reflected the whole universe and the faces
of all generations.
"From Adam to those who will someday hear the trumpets".
It seems more like some sort of soul-search.
For Fritz Lang, the Table
was capable of extracting a person's most hidden side.
He called it a "dream-catcher".
You know what a "dream-catcher" is?
It's like a tiny net,
woven in the form of a labyrinth,
that is used to cover a baby's crib
to filter in the good dreams
and to stop
the bad dreams from entering
by redirecting them through a labyrinth.
Hello?
I've been deaf all day.
Yes, speaking. Yes.
Is that you, Goldman?
Yes, I received the photos of the actors.
But I told you I wasn’t the right person for this project.
How much?
Yes, it's a very generous offer. But it's not just the money...
Give me a few days to think it over.
I'm going back to Mexico. I'm in no shape for this.
The story begins in Mexico.
No, in Spain.
That's it.
The plot begins in Toledo,
in the year 2002.
I’ve always felt very attracted to Toledo.
For me it’s a magical city, unique,
and in the twenties Federico, Salvador and I visited often.
That's me.
Well, that's the actor who's going to play me.
García Lorca, Salvador Dalí and I met at the Parador in Toledo.
We were young then, full of energy.
We were ambitious,
passionate,
ready to takeover the world.
Daaa-lí.
My name is Luis Bunuel, film director, from Aragon.
I'm quite deaf, a bit ugly,
but also sensitive,
a good friend.
To us.
- Good morning. - Morning.
- Federico, shall we sit there? - Sure, why not?
Right, you know why we're here.
- We're making a film about... - It's your film.
Of course it is.
I'll direct it, and we'll write it together.
- First we should clear things up. - Where's his accent?
He had a Catalonian accent
- before. - How about like this?
Hey, listen, we should clear up a few things first.
You don't need to exaggerate, but better.
You still haven't explained why
you erased my name from the credits of "An Andalusian Dog".
Not to mention "The Golden Age",
which was given to both of us and you kept for yourself.
You betrayed me, and turned
my Himalayan ideas into little paper bowties.
So that's why you turned snitch
and reported me in New York?
That woman
you're seeing has you all screwed up.
Gala, Gala, Gala...
Gala's too subtle for you, Luis.
She'd frighten you.
You don't know what women are like.
- You've no idea. - And you do? Please.
Your think women should spend the whole day in the kitchen.
That's nonsense.
Besides,
your memory fails you.
I didn't report you.
It was the Americans who kicked you out of the Museum of Modern Art.
Is that clear?
I don't know about these dialogues.
They aren't natural.
You think people will understand the films and the New York stuff?
What?
Do you really think people still care about Bunuel's films?
- Would you like to order something? - Yes, a dry martini.
But make it dry, very dry.
I think pretty much everyone knows who I am and the films I've made.
I'll have a sherry.
Excuse me, have you seen any films by Luis Bunuel?
- Yes, of course. - Which ones?
"This Strange Passion", "Archibaldo", "Viridiana",
- "The Exterminating Angel"... - You're a film buff.
No, I'm an entymologist. I love ants.
I'm crazy about them.
Excuse me,
could you tell me... Any whores in Toledo?
No, sir, there are no whores in Toledo.
Excuse me.
Very kind.
Right, let's continue.
- I can't laugh. - Prickly?
It pokes me in the eye.
Let's goon.
Excuse me, sir. Are you Luis Bunuel?
- Yes, I am. What can I do for you? - A letter for you.
Thank you.
- Goodbye. - Bye, gorgeous.
I never knew you were such a ladies' man.
Won’t you read it?
THE ANTIQUE SHOP ON THE CALLE DE LAMANO. GO ALONE.
Don Luis!
- He's here, Don Luis. - Show him in.
- May I? - Come in.
Where does this go?
- On the bed. - Okay.
- Hello. - Careful.
No, on top of the bed.
- On top? - On top.
Very good.
No, it's not necessary.
Thank you, Don Luis. Very kind.
- Thank you. Good night. - Good night.
Where were we?
Right, the note.
The Callede la Mano.
The antique shop, that's right.
The antique shop.
Can I help you?
No, no. What's your name?
My name? Fátima.
- What? - Fátima.
- Are you Moroccan? - Not at all, I'm French.
My father worked with you on one of your films.
Really? Which one?
I don't know.
I think it was with Angela Molina.
- "That Obscure Object of Desire". - That's it.
My father's an electrician. He says you're very polite.
Well, that depends.
Do you really sleep on this?
Naked, even.
Excuse me.
The envelope?
Have you got something for me?
Fátima.
My niece.
Take him and show him
what we talked about yesterday.
- All right? - All right.
Follow me.
Come.
You like films, right?
So-so.
- You must go occasionally. - Not often, really.
But I don't care.
We all have a film inside.
Just close your eyes and you can see any film you want.
I bet you really pack the theaters.
Go ahead, sit down.
A little music for ambience...
Brahms' Fourth Symphony, right?
I don't know. Could be.
You know him, right?
His name's David Goldman.
He's a film producer.
His films contain hidden Zionist messages.
And as you know,
the Diaspora gave the Jews access to the widest spy network on earth.
They're not Secret Service,
but they collaborate with them when necessary.
She calls herself Ana María de Zayas.
Some say she's Goldman's daughter,
but she's actually his mistress.
Do you like blondes?
That depends what for.
Watch out for this one.
She's a dangerous woman.
Aren't all women dangerous?
Maybe we frighten you
because you don't know us well.
Kurt Epstein. Belongs to the Secret Service.
Polish, but lives in Lérida.
A man with no scruples. A murderer and gunman.
Bishop Abilio Avendano. He represents the Christians.
Clever, a real fox.
He firmly believes that his religion is the only truth.
To his right, Father Jacinto Banos, from the Society of Jesus.
An expert in religious history
and masonry.
To his left, Pacheco.
He can’t be trusted.
A big-mouth who works for the highest bidder.
We're in a real mess.
Why us?
Because you're known.
Making a film in Toledo is a good pretext to look for Solomon's Table,
find it, and take it with you.
The Table exists?
We think the Christians
know of its exact location.
What's the Table's secret?
What? You don't know?
Whoever has it is able to see the present, past and future.
Imagine the potential harm
if it falls in the hands of someone evil.
"I only want one hand,
an injured hand, if possible.
I only want one hand,
even if it means 1000 sleepless nights."
Federico, you should read with more feeling.
It's a bit tacky.
Fine, you try it.
Hey, I'm no poet.
Let's see.
"I only want one hand,
even if it means 1000 sleepless nights.
I'd be a pale, lime-lily...
A dove anchored to my heart...
I'd be the night watchman who won't let the moon
shine through."
Disastrous.
No, nothing.
I can't say I'm privy to laughter.
This keeps falling out.
I just experienced
a sudden intellectual erection.
He can't get a real one...
I see...
a boy.
A boy dressed for his first communion.
With his prayer book in hand...
A desolate landscape in Aragon...
The boy...
looks around him,
as if seeing it all for the first time.
Luisl Luisl
What are those voices?
Luis.
Where are you, child?
Your father wants you.
Where are you, Luis?
Luisl Luisl
Where are you, son?
The drums...
Can't you hear them?
Now...
The boy is on a beach.
It's me, Salvador
Dalí.
It's a deserted beach,
and the boy walks to the sea.
In a few steps he arrives at the shore.
He reaches out his hand
and lifts away the surface of the sea as if it were a skin.
No, no, no.
Say, why me?
And how do you know?
Know what?
I dreamt I got shot last night.
And then...
the boy drops the cover over the sea
and turns into a Madonna,
all in white, and rises towards the sky, levitating,
with her ass showing.
Pardon me,
I couldn't help overhearing you.
I think that stuff
about the Virgin showing her ass is going overboard.
They all have asses.
I admire your work, Mr. Bunuel.
- I've seen almost all your films. - Very kind.
My favorite was "The Milky Way".
Abilio Avendano, at your service.
"Abilio Avendano.
- Mozarabic Bishop." - That's right.
- Please, join us. - Thank you.
I have a vague concept of Mozarabic ritual.
Isn't it based on the teachings of St. James the Apostle
to the first Spanish Christians?
Your knowledge of theology never ceases to surprise me,
Mr. Bunuel.
I believe the Mozarabic ritual had problems in Rome...
Rome accused our ritual of containing
magical and heretical components
- of Islamic origin. - "Arsenic fish like sharks,
and needles in your veins..."
They finally authorized it, restricting it
to a chapel in Toledo's Cathedral,
in the Saint Eulalia Church.
Federico.
I'm on my way over there now, to lead mass.
- You'd enjoy it. - Make no mistake.
Bunuel never sins.
Technically, and forgive me for asking,
what makes Mozarabic ritual different?
Oh, please.
There's no comparison.
We divide the wafer into nine fractions.
Some think it's cabalistic.
One of the books of the Castilian Cabala, the "Zohar",
speaks of the Nine Fractions that end up in the Kingdom,
and it says something very enigmatic:
"In this way,
the Supreme Light is confused with the lights of the Fractions,
thus forming the Nine Palaces.
And the light shed is none other than the Light of Thought."
Take that!
Why are you in Toledo,
if I may ask?
Tourism.
Toledo's an extraordinary city.
That it is.
But believe me, Don Luis,
there are no more hidden treasures in Toledo.
I don't understand.
You understand perfectly.
Calle Alfileritos,
Cobertizos,
Santo Domingo el Real,
San Román,
Posada de la Sangre,
Venta de Aires...
So many memories!
But let's return to our story.
The secret could be...
in the Tavera Hospital.
Aren't you
Luis Bunuel? Luis Bunuel,
the film director!
The famous Bunuel.
Yes, I am.
You’re considered one of the greatest directors in film history.
History? That trashy,
sentimental, intellectual rubbish
they call film?
But you've made a lot of crap.
What?
Trust me.
I'm a film critic, columns for important magazines.
You can't fool me.
That shameful film you made with Jorge Negrete and his mariachis!
And that other one,
with all the shooting, like in the American old west.
- "The River and Death". - Rough times.
We only had 2weeks.
Excuses!
Not to mention "Cela s'appelle l'aurore"...
You should have called it "Cela s'appelle l'horreur".
That's enough! Leave me alone.
What about "Wuthering Heights"? Awful.
"Wuthering Heights". What crap!
Did you see William Wyler's?
You're a fraud.
I won't be insulted by you.
What about "Tristana"?
With that frigid Catherine Deneuve limping around Toledo!
Who do you think you are?
How dare you! I'm not finished with you!
Do you know who I am?
I can't believe it! You're a fraud!
I'll have it published everywhere!
You scoundrel!
- You're a scoundrel! - Take it easy.
Unbelievable. And they even dare
to come here and make that film about Solomon's Table. Artist?
- You're a redneck! - Are you all right?
He only gets nervous talking about film.
- You didn't bring it up, did you? - He did.
Good morning.
His name's Mariano Toledano. He writes well, it's a shame.
- What about? - About film.
He studied at a Jesuit school with me.
A very smart kid, but he liked film, and as you see,
all to waste. It's unfortunate.
I'm Jacinto Banos, from the Society of Jesus. Good day.
Good day.
After this unpleasant incident, we met an Italian girl
named Ana María de Zayas.
Ribera's "The Bearded Woman",
next to her husband,
suckling one of her children.
Her name was Magdalena Ventura
and she was from the Kingdom of Naples.
Come with me, please.
Where?
I am to show you something.
On whose instructions?
David Goldman?
Please follow me.
The chapel, like the entire building,
is dedicated to Saint John the Baptist.
It has only one nave and stands on a Latin cross.
In the center of the cross lies Cardinal Tavera's tomb.
This is Cardinal Tavera's tomb.
I'll stay here. I don't want to dream about rotting bishops.
I imagine myself inside the tomb,
slowly gnawed at and swallowed
by an infernal swarm of filthy green maggots.
My heart is now a huge sponge soaked in pus,
furiously attacked by worms.
The face, already deteriorating,
must have been done by whoever sculpted the death mask,
because the Cardinal never let anyone do his portrait.
Berruguete was already very old when he did it,
and he died a few days after finishing it in this very building.
- You were saying? - No.
Well, yes.
Do you think Solomon's Table is here, in the Talavera Hospital?
Why do you ask?
You didn't answer me.
It's possible.
Bunuel, Luis Bunuel?
Luis Bunuel?
That's me.
Now I can rest.
I’ve completed my mission.
Shall we go, Ana María?
Ana María.
Miss.
When can I see you again?
I'm sorry. You can't.
Goodbye.
A hash verosh, The Wandering Jew.
Condemned to wander the world without a moment to rest.
No, Salvador. Don't even think about it.
- Who cares? - Didn’t you see his face?
Of course, the glasses.
The glasses.
It can't be.
Impossible.
I'd say this is Hebrew.
You speak Hebrew?
Of course not. This is just what I see.
This is getting complicated. I don't like it.
We're playing a dangerous game and we don't even know the rules.
I want Goldman to stop this.
No, no. Not now. No way.
I have a signed contract, and money's money.
They’re challenging us.
We have to stay together.
Then what do we do?
They could be from the Book of Splendor,
an old book from the Cabala.
Pardon my curiosity, but why the interest?
Someone told us the text had a very special significance.
Something related to Toledo and perhaps...
Yes, go on.
Perhaps related to Solomon's Table.
Solomon's Table!
Right.
And they said it was here, in Toledo.
Is it possible?
What do you know about it?
We don’t know anything.
We're writing a script for a film about it.
Maybe you could help us.
Translation:
"The Great Mirror shines
without haste, timeless,
joining the faces of the Generations."
- No, it can't be! - What is it?
"Where Adam eats ants...
the sea remembers those who drowned...
and a wall of bad dreams...
divides me and the dead."
You said he didn't speak Hebrew!
- Not a word. - Well then?
Some verses of mine.
That's impossible.
They're from the holy book.
How would you interpret those verses?
There is only one mirror
capable of showing the faces of all the Generations...
"From Adam until those who will someday hear the trumpets".
And that mirror is Solomon's Table.
One thing is clear, we’re getting closer.
It's here, in Toledo. But where?
What do we do now?
- I'll be right back. - Where are you going?
I've got a hunch. Wait for me, I'll be right back.
I don't think they have the right lead.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
Didn't there used to be an antique shop here?
Right, Musa, the tall skinny Arab guy.
That was long ago.
The owner went south.
And his niece, Fátima?
You met her?
Such a pretty girl. She died.
She died?
Yeah, very strangely. Everyone talked about it.
They found her naked and all cut into pieces.
How are you, Antonio?
- Hello, Mr. Bunuel. - Hello.
Good morning, Bishop, sir. Your bull's tail.
Thank you, Antonio.
Still around? How is everything?
Actually, I'm a bit confused.
We were hoping to speak to you.
Anytime.
Let's get to the point.
You're looking for Solomon's Table.
But you might not be aware of the dangers
involved in an adventure taken so lightly.
Some friendly advice...
The best thing you can do
is leave Toledo immediately.
Why should we leave?
It's only advice. You're being
used by ruthless people who are capable of anything.
- Don't you realize? - Of course we do.
We're not stupid.
But why all the mystery?
The Table
is a holy object
sought after by the three main monotheistic religions:
Jews, Muslims, and Christians.
Some fanatics
will do anything to possess it.
Any excuse could be used at this point
to disrupt the balance
and unchain
violence of incalculable consequences.
Believe me.
The Table should stay where it is.
We're willing to go all the way.
Yes.
As you wish.
First you must pass a test.
The Toledan night.
You must purify yourselves and clean the darkness that clouds your minds.
Only then, when you've been purged and are at peace,
when lightning bursts the bowels of the sky and the clouds thunder,
will you be ready to follow the path
that will lead you to Solomon's Table.
Right.
We have to separate.
Each must follow his own destiny.
Choose a street.
I'll take this one.
- We'll meet at the Parador. - All right.
Well.
- I'll go with you, Luis. - No, we must separate.
Choose a street.
But I always get lost.
No, Salvador.
Each of us must face his own destiny.
Then you pick for me.
I was waiting for you.
Get undressed.
Not so fast.
We have all night.
I don't know if this is real,
or if it's a dream.
It's a dream.
You disobeyed your father.
You're doomed.
You'll end up miserable,
eaten by vermin, without a friend.
You'll be lucky to get a bowl of soup.
And you'll die alone, abandoned, like a dog.
You insulted your mother.
You despised and humiliated us.
You’re a wretch and we never want to see you again.
From now on you have no father.
Go back to that whore who slept with all your friends.
They were only words.
You're allowed to blaspheme in dreams about loved ones.
I loved you, mother.
And I never accepted your death.
You're the only one who could have saved me.
Is that you, father?
I despise you.
I refuse to carry your body on my shoulders forever.
You never worried about my feelings.
You thought I was a sick, spoiled child...
a bad version of my dead brother.
I took his place in this world.
And now he's here with me.
What greater pleasure is there in the world
then to fuck your own dying father in the ass?
They're Quevedo's verses.
Federico...
García Lorca.
We have a surprise for you.
Come with us.
Where are you taking me?
To see people who love you.
But where?
Don't be impatient. Come on.
For you, Federico García Lorca.
Of the four mule drivers...
Dear Mother, that go down to the water...
That go down to the water...
The one with the dapple-grey mule...
Dear mother...
Steals my soul... Steals my soul.
You must find the light...
Dear Mother, the light from above...
The light from above.
If from your face comes...
Dear Mother...
Burning embers... Burning embers.
Keep quiet, be silent...
You're my little secret...
Something no one knows...
You're my little secret...
Something no one knows...
I'll love no one, I'll love no one...
As long as my partner lives...
As long as my partner lives.
Don't touch my mule...
Calling the gardener...
Breaks the bars of the carriage.
What's going on?
What do you want?
Who are you?
"The guards of the house will tremble,
and the strong will bend.
The water at the mill will weaken,
the lobster will grow irksome,
the caper will fall,
the jug will break to pieces in the fountain,
and the pulley at the bottom of the well."
It should be an inner search,
through friendship.
If not, why include Federico and Salvador?
"Love is as strong as death."
What about friendship?
Tristan and Isolde.
The prelude to the first act.
Is friendship as strong as death?
"The Great Mirror shines without haste, timeless,
joining the faces of the Generations.
Where Adam eats ants...
the sea remembers those who drowned..."
"The sea remembers those who drowned...
and a wall of bad dreams...
divides me and the dead."
- What is it? - The storm the Bishop mentioned.
It's time.
Just what we needed!
What do we do?
Bunuel? Luis Bunuel?
That's me. What is it?
Follow me, please.
Where? In this storm...
His Eminence the Bishop Abilio Avendano is expecting you.
You can leave your coats there.
You got very far,
but the worst is still to come.
Are you still determined to find Solomon's Table?
Are you or not?
We are.
Very well.
Pacheco will guide you.
One last warning:
Once on the path,
you must always go forward. Always forward.
You can never go back.
Come on.
Move the clothes.
That way.
Please, after you. Go ahead.
Given the circumstances,
it's the best we could do.
May God welcome them to his breast.
May Allah help them.
May the blessed prophets
guide them.
So, do we have an agreement?
We'll cover the entrance today.
It will be sealed forever.
Amen.
That sound.
It's coming from the earth's core.
Let's see...
Light over there.
Who goes first?
- You. - No way.
- Federico García... - Not for anything in the world.
We don't know what's down there!
- You can hold hands. - Not quite, Luis.
All right. I'll go first.
God...
Infinitely small,
has created
this glow-worm,
with holes made by an infinite number of pins,
that pass through the skin of Gala the galactic rhinoceros,
to illuminate
the universe.
Salvador!
How far does it go?
To the center of all centers,
to the silence of all silence,
to the dream of all dreams.
What do you mean?
It's one of Dalí's paintings,
with all three of us.
"The Spectral Beach."
Back to our adventure.
Where were we?
In the corridor.
Here we go.
It's blood! Blood.
It's blood!
How could it be blood? It's clay.
It's blood.
We must be under Zocodover Square.
The main squares in Spain are loaded with screams,
built over a lake of blood,
a pool of agony that beats like a heart.
Federico, this isn't one of your melodramas.
Let's get out of here.
Ana María de Zayas.
Come on, Federico.
They’re only bodies.
Not a bad way to die, either.
Promise me you won’t leave me alone.
We've still much to do.
You mean a lot to me, Salvador.
My feelings are real when I'm with you.
We know how to handle that stuff on the Mediterranean!
What?
Once, in Cadaqués,
they were taking a body to the cemetery, near Port-Lligat.
The women cried, the men eulogized the dead guy,
and the dead guy couldn't do any better
than come back to life!
So the people, disappointed and hurt...
They beat him until he was conveniently dead.
And that's how they buried him without further incident.
Grab the lantern.
Luis?
Luis!
Luis, where are you?
Luisito!
Shit! God damn it!
We have to reach an intersection.
Watch it, you'll burn us.
Give Luis the torch.
You guys don't trust me at all.
Well, here's the intersection.
Now where do we go?
I'd say that way.
No, that way.
Federico.
Salvador.
Federico!
Salvador!
Here!
- Federico. - Here.
Federico, is that you?
Yes. Luis!
Federico!
Where are you two?
- Salvador! - Here!
Luis!
- Where were you? - What about you?
- Here, looking for you. - I turned and you were gone.
- You disappeared. - Let's keep going.
- Yes, but together, please. - Careful.
- You be careful, too. - Come on.
Approach.
Come closer.
Extinguish the torch.
Your light blinds me.
Put it out!
You won’t be needing it any longer.
Well, I see you're all purged.
Otherwise you'd have ended up like them.
Come with me.
Many have tried
and ran into
this Well of the Souls.
From where they come out to wander these corridors
and mislead those who dare to undertake the search
without being prepared.
I will cast a spell
so that you are left alone.
You have enough problems as it is.
You must go all the way down to the bottom.
That is where you will find the sign.
Continue forward, and never turn back.
If you do, they will kill you.
The lion from Judah's tribe has won!
David's root!
Solomon's sap!
David's root!
Solomon’s sap!
Don't turn back!
Always forward! Always forward!
The air is strange.
I can't breathe.
I'm suffocating.
Luis...
This is crazy.
The river's above us.
This could cave in anytime.
- Come on, don't fall behind. - I can't.
- We can’t turn back. - I can't.
Listen.
Where's he going?
Salvador!
It's moving!
Come on! Forward!
Don't linger. They're testing us.
Come on.
Solomon's Table!
Salvador.
Federico.
Where am I now?
Goodbye, mountains.
Goodbye, birds.
Goodbye, fields.
Goodbye, clouds and sky.
Goodbye, my friends.
Goodbye, Toledo.
Goodbye.