No use going into detail, let's just say that
we weathered a storm before arriving
in the West Indies.
Three Crowns of the Sailor
On the night of July 25, 1958,
I killed Ladislav Zukakevitch, antique dealer,
my mentor, my master in the art
of polishing diamonds,
my tutor at Warsaw Theological School.
I got nothing out of this crime,
except the ring he offered me many times,
several hundred marks, a collection
of old coins, of no value,
a long letter where he advised me to leave the country.
It was the last piece of advice
among others he'd given me,
and one I had to follow.
Tadeusz, student, referring to himself as "he",
walked straight for the first train to Warsaw.
Being in the streets after midnight
was in itself suicidal.
Wandering aimlessly,
he heard echoes of a scuffle.
He thought a stray bullet whizzed past his head.
It should have killed him,
but once again, fate granted him that inch
which definitely spared him
a relieving death.
Then he saw the sailor.
What're you looking for?
You.
At this time of night?
You have a pass?
Do you?
My case is different.
I need money.
I knew it.
Just a little.
I knew it.
I've got plenty on me.
That's too much.
Those pre-war marks have no value.
I've got money, too.
Let me treat you.
At this time? Where?
Here, or over there. Why not?
I'm a sailor.
We sailors, we know places...
Don't worry.
There are places... and places.
I must go. You know I don't have a pass.
There're places only sailors know...
That's what they say. I've got to go.
Too late. I need you, er... you need me.
Why'd I need a drunken sailor now?
Why'd a poor sailor need to help a student in trouble?
Why him? Why not another?
Why should he help him flee tonight?
Why should a student trust
the first stranger claiming to protect him?
Why should a discerning stranger
share his last hours
with a sought-after delinquent?
You look like an interesting person.
Thank you.
I need money.
I knew it. I've got money.
- Marks... - Worthless!
That's not so important.
Isn't money everything in life?
I need 3 Danish crowns
now... before sunrise.
Would you have them?
Who knows? I wish I knew.
You must go. True or false?
Before sunrise.
There's a job on my ship.
My job. It'll cost you 3 Danish crowns.
I think I can find them.
Let's talk about it.
Do you believe in the here-after?
You mean another life?
- I said the here-after! - Let go!
No I don't.
Let me tell you first off, I'm an atheist.
My story should interest you.
It's...
about the here-after.
I think it's a good story for you.
- I don't think so. - Yes, it is.
I think it's a good story for you.
Besides, it's a story...
you'll have to listen.
That's...
- the price, you know... - I see.
It's the price of the job on the ship.
That's cheap.
Yes, you're right.
That's the price... plus...
Shit, I don't remember...
plus 3 Danish crowns.
Yes, 3 crowns.
Is that all?
The student, referring to himself as "I" when bored,
listened to one more story.
One of those stories I loved
when searching from bar to bar for the ship
for the ship to take me away.
It all started in Valparaiso.
Broke, I was looking for a job on a ship
like hundreds of others,
looking for anything
that would take them away.
Everyday, down in the harbor,
long lines left no hope for work
for several months, or even years.
The same thing, day after day...
Days of waiting with nothing to do.
It seems like yesterday...
One man couldn't stop himself from lying.
Nothing he said was true.
All he seemed to be was unreal.
Nothing about him
fit what one could call normal.
Moreover, none of his anomalies fit what one could call eccentric.
On the docks, they called him the Blindman.
May I die if it's not true,
if my days are not already numbered.
It means you're in good health. A drink?
How're you gonna pay for it, my friend?
Here, take it.
You pay,
so they'll have nothing to say.
Some advice:
- never take money from others. - Especially from you!
You've been warned.
Give me the money back.
Take it.
With it...
I'll buy you a beer with it.
Everyone here knows
that I'm buying you a beer with your money.
- How do you know? - I know it,
but I don't believe it.
Some advice: never give money to anyone
without something in return.
For the money you gave me,
I'll tell you something...
tonight in the port,
there's a job on the Funchalense.
Don't believe me.
Never trust people like me.
I don't believe you.
Don't stop mistrusting me later on.
Am I to believe there's really a job for me?
No one believes it,
anyway, I've done my duty.
This type of information...
is worth at least three beers.
As you like.
Waiter, 3 beers!
We drank all afternoon.
I fell asleep.
An old sailor woke me up.
Someone's waiting for you.
Don't believe it.
It's only red paint.
For fun, someone...
put some red paint on me.
There were 5 of them. They wanted to get away.
The Blindman tricked them.
He promised them a job on the Funchalense
which had left over a week ago.
Is that you?
No, it's something else.
Wait for me!
I've got something to tell you.
The old man wanted to tell me another story.
He didn't stop talking for 2 hours.
15 years ago, I landed in this area.
In Bilbao, there's a replica of this area.
Over there...
The Texas Bar is called there La Estrella.
It's got the same number of tables.
On a similar lamp, 3 rebels were hung in Singapore.
Every year, I light candles for them.
I ignored him. I didn't even look at him.
I could only think of the Blindman's death.
When I wanted to say goodbye to him,
he was no longer there.
I realized I had been wandering alone for hours.
Yet, I could have sworn I'd heard his voice.
It was then, in front of me,
I saw the Funchalense for the first time.
The ex-Socrates 4, Athens...
The ex-Flora, Mondrovia...
I almost turned and walked away. But I couldn't.
Help yourself...
Cheers!
Would you point out a place on the map?
Talara.
That's correct, my friend...
if I can call you that.
I've never been on the open sea.
Those are not really voyages... only little jaunts...
Do you have a job for me?
I mean, a job for a sailor out of work?
Of course!
Who'd go out on such a boat?
I like it.
Could you point out another place?
Touré.
Incredible!
Halifax.
Close.
An other, and another one...
- Bastia... - Wrong!
Koo-Loong.
Maybe, but valid.
Bring your papers and duffel bag, we sail at dawn.
Son, what's wrong? You're white as a sheet.
- What happened? - I walked around the docks.
You met some friends.
You wasted your time drinking with them.
Without deserving it,
you got a job on a ship
that'll take you away forever!
His eyes are blood-shot.
He's blue!
Mother, I'm leaving.
I shove off tonight.
God only knows if we'll see each other again.
Are you afraid of leaving?
You've got a forced laugh.
You see this ring? Bring me another one.
A better one...
If you have time,
find me a necklace,
like the one my next-to-the-last fiancé gave me.
Like the one I threw away, in the canal.
Bring back at least two bicycles,
and some of the coffee we used to drink.
Now, look at me...
kiss me and don't forget me.
Mother woke the neighbors,
they brought wine and guitars for the farewell.
I'm your sister's fiancé.
I like her very much.
Now that you're leaving,
I'll be the only breadwinner in your family.
I accept this duty.
I ask nothing for this sacrifice.
Besides, I love your sister,
but you should know you're making us rush into it.
The least a globe-trotter could do
is to make an effort...
Think of me...
That's my only request.
- Think of me once a week. - I promise.
That's what they say... but then forget.
Do you remember the first time you heard "apple"?
- Neither do I. - Does that bother you?
Not really.
But everything is a lie.
Remember me, and I promise to forget everything.
- Would you like a doll? - Three, no, five!
- A baby carriage? - Eight, no, two!
- A bicycle? - I don't know.
- A record player? - I don't know.
- A boat? - I don't know.
- A train set? - Yes, a train.
You'd like a train. What does she want?
I don't know.
Son,
the queen has arrived.
She's waiting to dance with you.
I seem to still be hearing her voice.
Mother said she was the prettiest.
She came to dance the last waltz with me.
I know it's my fault that you're leaving.
All the boys my age are leaving. It's my fault.
They only see my beauty.
They don't see I'm only beautiful.
Look, they're hiding as usual.
It's good you're going.
You'd end up killing yourself because of me.
You'll come back, get married
and have kids.
Maybe you and your wife'll die.
Your kids will be orphans.
But I'll be there to raise them,
because I'll never get married.
When you're only beautiful, you're always alone.
Hear that?
That poor baker has just killed himself!
See?
That's my destiny. It's good you're going.
That bitch! She killed him!
The party was over,
Mother was sleeping
maybe dreaming of my return.
While everyone was singing.
I slipped away.
While leaving Valparaiso,
I wanted to write to my mother.
I wanted to write her
what I had never dared to say to her.
For example:
"The night is starry,
"the stars are twinkling.
"I'm ready to forget the slaps on Christmas,
"the beating I got on my 10th birthday."
I forgave her for not having given me a name.
I forgave her Valparaiso,
the nights with no electricity,
that time, and all the other times,
when I lost the pen and the shawl.
I also told her...
that I loved her.
This was my first letter.
My first friend was the Impersonator
who imitated everyone,
dead or alive.
So, you've left your little fiancée?
We all have a little fiancée.
Why?
- It's not the same, I hope! - What do you mean?
We all have the same little fiancée.
We call her
"The little fiancée from America".
She's very pretty, very beautiful.
Mine's already forgotten me.
She forgets us, too.
She's got amnesia.
- Mine never loved me... - She loves no one.
Maybe she's not the same one,
but she's the same.
We're all the same.
That's why I have this...
I keep looking at my photo.
This way, I can't forget what I look like.
I've seen you somewhere...
No, not me, it's the other.
It's the same thing. We're all the same.
We'll all end up in the same place.
Don't stare, or you'll end up like me.
Like my so-called best friend,
who lost himself, like everyone else.
I was his best friend,
because...
I loved him better than I loved myself.
This friend in question...
he messed around with my fiancée
who I loved more than anything.
I realized that the voice I heard
belonged to someone I thought dead.
You know whom I'm talking about...
You've surely guessed what I was thinking about:
we're all dead here. This is the other life.
But how can they lift the heavy crates?
Break their necks?
And how can they eat?
They eat in the here-after?
Who said it was the here-after?
The rest is easy to guess.
You've heard this story before?
Yes, but no one was eating in it.
Eating's got nothing to do with it.
But, they were eating anyway.
We ate at different hours.
Whenever you'd go into
the dining room, you'd see 3 or 4 guys snacking.
Sometimes, they'd be crying in their soup,
salting it with their tears.
The only salt on board
was smuggled on.
Inspection! Everyone up!
Sometimes the captain and his officers
searched the bunks.
Inspection!
Move your ass!
What the hell is in there?
I'm sure he hid it there.
Captain, look, salt!
Those shitheads!
They hid the salt!
What is that?
Alcohol?
I'll have some.
It's sea water!
You shitheads! We got you!
Listen, Captain...
It's not my fault.
There're sick men on board.
They'll die without salt.
Don't laugh, Captain.
Captain! You never listen to me!
Don't laugh, Captain!
He's crazy!
That makes you laugh, you assholes!
You take away life and our teeth!
I can't take this shit anymore.
I'm gonna beat it.
I'm gonna chuck it all.
But first, I'm gonna get dressed up.
I don't want to croak
looking like this.
Those assholes, they'll pay for it.
My tooth!
Keep my tooth as a souvenir...
It's all your fault, Captain...
I saw him jump overboard.
Yet, the next day, he was with the other men...
Did they fish you out?
Who me?
I saw you fall in the water...
It wasn't me.
I know you well, we talked about your fiancée.
That wasn't me, that was the other.
Each had his own tune.
That's all they had. I didn't have one.
I had less than nothing.
Until that day in Buenaventura...
We arrived early...
No one came to meet us.
I slept most of the day.
The singing woke me up at nightfall.
What you're saying is interesting.
Pity it's already been said many times.
Pity I've already hit another idiot like you!
Interesting. Where?
In a port, similar to this one.
- Interesting. - Shit!
Same goes for this song.
I'm Marina. I like everything but that.
I don't like you, but I know certain things...
I'm Estrella, I don't like the lights out.
I'm very mean, but I have beauty spots.
Don't come if you don't like that.
I like them all. Come to the back of the patio.
You'll say yes.
Come on. You'll please me.
I touch...
Let's go up there. With or without lights.
Only one didn't speak to me.
She didn't even look at me.
She'd ignored me.
I knew she'd picked me.
Why are you making fun of me?
I know I'm not your type.
You'd never pick me.
If we were the only two left in the world,
you'd despise me
And even if you didn't,
you'd stay with me, because you're nice.
But I'm sure you wouldn't touch me.
The only possible thing you'd do
is take my hand...
Nothing more than a brotherly kiss
before leaving me forever.
Come with me...
You'd pretend to choose me
only because... you're polite,
and I'd be grateful.
But I could never accept your kindness.
Normally, I should've brought you
to the Roosevelt Room,
or the Japanese Room.
Better yet,
to the Trafalgar Room.
Or to the Andalousian room.
But since you've been so nice to me...
I might speak to you in Maria's room...
In other words, my room.
Can you hear this song?
Can you hear the words?
That expresses everything I feel.
You want to give love
You're so alone in your pain
It's so beautiful! Listen!
It's wonderful.
You're so blind when you suffer...
A cold, a cruel cold...
Where men meet...
Frightening wave of my love
Holy shit! That's great!
By the way, why are you chewing gum?
By the way?
It's not me, it's another girl.
Of course, she's prettier.
They call here "By-the-way". She's always saying it.
So, for the chewing gum...
Let's just say... it's you.
Can I be frank with you?
Please, go ahead.
Then listen closely.
There're some men, not very many,
who've come here and left screaming.
Maybe that's why everyone laughs at me
by calling me
"The Virgin Mary".
Let them say what they like.
Everything I own is here:
a toothbrush,
a book, a missel,
a bottle of perfume,
the last letter from my father,
a record by Caruso...
Countless stockings I never wear...
And this shoe that I love above all.
Do you like that?
You know me and souvenirs...
Look!
I decided that you'd be there.
Touch if you want.
They represent all the men who've come here.
You must know, once and for all,
I'm not a virgin.
You know, me and virgins...
Do coffins bother you?
Coffins?
What do you want me to say?
What's a coffin?
It's like any other bed.
- A bed? - It's the same...
I guess... I mean, it's a thing!
A coffin is like a...
A boat. That's it, it's like a boat.
A boat?
I don't know... Like a car,
A coffin is like a... car...
It's like a toothbrush, a shoe...
It's like a hat, a hankie. Oh shit, I don't know!
A coffin is like a coffin, that's it!
Anyway, I wouldn't leave just for that.
Then I'll tell you my story.
Dad got one when he found out I was going to die.
My agony lasted many, many years.
When I came to,
I had several new brothers.
I kept my coffin.
Is it that grave?
Is it that sad?
We made love. She told me her story.
Always the same... She was the only breadwinner...
Misery, the life of the poor...
She had to pay off one of her father's debts.
She wanted to leave
for the big city with her brothers
and lead a decent life.
I had no money on me. I went to the ship.
The men were sleeping, barely breathing.
The safekeeper was up.
As if waiting for me, smoking a cigarette...
Can you lend me some money?
- How much? - Less than what you have.
That's already too much.
You could spare more than that.
Less than nothing is still too much.
I'll pay you back.
Well, I hope so.
The problem is these bills are family mementos.
You'll have to give the same ones back.
- I'll never find the same currency. - Sure you can!
A dollar is always a dollar,
a quid is a quid,
but a dollar is not a quid.
I understand.
Maria was waiting for me.
Others had wanted her while I was gone...
the sailors knew they'd never find a girl like her.
I'd had never thought you'd give me the money I needed.
No doubt,
you're different.
Until now,
I thought there were only dirty things in this world,
and nothing existed beyond these walls.
Until now, I thought that everything was a synonym of sex.
Do you hear the children in the yard
reciting the 365 names of the masculine organ?
Count the money, I must give the same ones back.
There's 30000 escudos here.
Hear that? 127 names of the female organ!
Count it!
7000 caraïbes,
4000 old lantaros.
9000 nationales...
4000 old lanteros...
9000 nationales, 20000 stars...
90 dollars...
4000 pears.
We sailed for several months.
I couldn't get along with the crew.
They named me "The Other".
One night, I happened upon a strange scene.
Some sailors were showing their tattoos.
Each called his tattoo "the Letter".
They wondered how many letters were missing.
If the letter happened to be the same,
they hugged each other like brothers.
If not... they'd be wary of one another.
They kept repeating an old saying:
"Words are made of letters, and songs of words".
This was a popular song
at that time.
The captain only liked Beethoven.
He sang "Ode to Joy" day and night.
No one else was allowed to sing it.
He constantly changed the words.
We often talked about him and his tapestry.
I'll tell you later.
Sooner. Why not now?
Oh yes. I remember now...
- You, bastard! - Yes sir!
We sailors, we're strange beings,
but we have a heart.
On this boat, we're all one.
It's a big brotherhood.
It is necessary...
each one has his place.
You are one of us.
You be the letter "N".
You're already part of the story.
Which one am I?
Several. A human being is very complicated.
Do you claim to be as simple as one letter?
This time, it was a long crossing.
We talked like the soppy novels we read.
We spent endless nights
living other lives.
We didn't care anymore, we slept all the time.
Until the day I was in Singapore...
I was looking for the famous brothel
when I saw a very young child.
He was reading.
I felt like a father to him.
I wished for him a better life than mine,
a doctor perhaps.
There's not enough light, you'll ruin your eyes!
Dr. Wepoyoung is explaining that he doesn't need light.
He is the light.
He's furiously poetic.
I never get tired of listening to him.
Let me introduce myself:
Arnaud de Préfontaine,
the French Honorary Consul.
What's a European doing in such a neighborhood?
It's completely unusual and furiously dangerous.
What are you doing in the opium district?
I have good reason.
In this bitch of a city,
bitch in every sense of the word,
you can't find cigarettes, especially Gauloises
I smoke six packs a day, in a pipe.
If not, they'd swipe them.
Recently, the Consulate's been invaded by thieves
and cross-word fanatics of all kinds.
It's furiously unpleasant.
How old is he?
He's older than he seems.
- At least 90. - Is that true?
Obviously!
He's lived and will live
more years than you and I will ever see.
But he's ill. May I be ill like him!
He's getting younger.
When he doesn't eat, he gets younger.
It costs me a fortune to keep him from eating.
The least bowl of rice
makes him age a year.
I wasted infinitely precious years
maintaining Dr. Wepoyoung in this state.
10 years of effort reduced to nothing!
Alas, I'm being transferred to Porto Galiegos
where I'll waste my precious time
with Brits whose beastliness is known
and with Argentines.
I'll leave the doctor to you
since you're furiously attached to him.
The Consul recommended two orphans to me.
To my great surprise,
I realized they knew my son, the doctor.
The French Consul sent me.
They didn't want to tell me how they'd met him.
I only asked them to take care of him.
I wanted to know how much it'd cost me.
I don't understand.
I understand less and less.
I see...
They asked a nominal fee
as he barely ate a thing.
I had no money on me. I went back.
On board, I met the 1st Officer.
Straight out, I asked him for money.
He had ready the exact amount I wanted.
How had he known what I didn't know?
And we sailed throughout the world.
Sometimes I seemed to be living in another body.
Until I finally woke up in the body of an other.
I wanted to look in the mirror, I found myself on the deck.
I hit a door and felt nothing.
Many other feelings overtook me.
The wind took my breath away,
even though I was completely sheltered.
I could at last see myself
as I reached the deck.
I tried very hard to look at myself,
and get to the place I was standing.
The body I was living in wasn't obeying me.
I steered my body, clumsily. I steered the body
that I had usurped for an instant.
My body was pushing me to the depths...