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 A.M. 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...
I was in two places at the same time.
That would be the end of me.
I had to gather my wits as fast as possible.
But where was I?
I thought I saw myself in 2 or 3 places.
Finally, emptiness.
I saw me through the eyes of an other.
I saw me walking toward the water, ready to jump.
An unrepressible thirst was forcing me.
I could hear me say:
"Sing!"
I said to me and my body:
"Sing!"
Suddenly, a voice was heard. A song broke out.
For once, everyone was singing the same tune.
That's how the song saved us.
Too bad for the other!
May God find him among the millions of tuna. Amen!
Perhaps it was this song...
The song...
Tell me about the letters first.
The other student wanted to know, too.
I mean, the tattoos...
This one?
Continue...
Now, you'll tell me about the shipwreck.
I was just about to tell you. We weathered several storms.
We weren't afraid.
We were sure the ship would never sink.
And the storms were our friends.
Each one had a name:
There was Lily, the singer,
Marguerite, the whistler,
Mimi, the bitch,
Belinda, the liar,
and then, the faithful Natacha
who came every December 15th.
Then, one day they stopped coming.
Nothing happened for a long time.
Now, I was really afraid.
One day, when there wasn't even a ripple,
not even a breath of wind, the boat sank!
The boat had begun to sink
and I saw disaster coming.
I tried to help the sailors. No use!
They showed no fear.
They were resigned,
simply to die.
I thought of my mother,
of my love in Buenaventura,
of my son in Singapore.
I wanted to live!
I managed to launch a lifeboat and get in.
Then I saw the ship.
I swear I saw it sink!
I swear by your mother, by your son, and by your only love!
The Funchalense was engulfed
by a glassy sea, under a full moon.
Oh yes, by a beautiful summer night.
I drifted for 4 days.
On the 5th, I woke up to a mixture of uneasiness and well-being.
Now that I think of it, it must've been the salt.
Or maybe
the weight of a coin under my tongue.
I really don't know.
I heard voices blaspheming:
"Star of the sea... Pray for us!"
The former is a tavern in Hamburg,
the latter is a brothel in Cyprus.
I'd gladly sell my soul for a pint of beer.
I couldn't help not being surprised by this weird scene:
the return of the Vallon de Marseille,
the ex-Funchalense,
ex-Socrates 4.
I said to myself:
"What's life? It's just an absurd wound."
By the way, I must tell you about Tangiers.
What do you know about Tangiers? Nothing?
Neither do I.
I got to know by chance a lady who managed
to soften me up with the story of her brother
who'd disappeared like me in a hurricane.
Two men walked towards us menacingly.
I decided not to fight back.
One was Ali. He was mean, weak and yellow.
The other was Ahmed. He was good, strong, resolute.
Men put out torches.
This knife is a torch which puts out men instead.
This knife's the sun. Your fear's its seed.
Your pockets are the trees,
and your money, their fruits.
Ali loved women, Ahmed loved only one.
You're the house where beauty lies.
Your mouth is the castle's door
through which my dove has flown away.
Your nose is the tower
from where I saw the car bringing my love to me.
Other women are drops of water, you're the sea.
Drops run through my fingers.
My hair is wet,
and I float on you.
Help!
How'd I get in this light on the brothers' side?
I don't remember.
I woke up in jail.
Some died, and the sentence might be long.
They told me their sad story.
A loanshark swindled them out of everything.
They killed him. I swear he was really dead.
We became inseparable, like three brothers.
They told me about their life
Ahmed thought he was Ali, and Ali Ahmed.
Both believed the world should be its opposite.
They acted as if the world was what it should be.
The prisoners called them "The Rebels".
One day, we were visited by the man who taught me about lies
and meanness.
May God find him among the 50000 unfaithful.
Open the cells!
He came everyday to tell us about the truths.
He insisted, curiously, that the cells be opened
and the guards taken away.
The father is God.
Very good.
Then, there's the son.
We finally understood he wanted us out.
But first, we had to get rid of him.
Thanks to him,
I'm here before you today.
May God explain the bellies of the 100 million ants.
So, how many Gods weren't there?
Three...
No my children, that's not it.
First off, there's a father who is God.
Then there's the son who is God...
and the Holy Spirit who is God.
We promised to make a fortune together
one day.
I went to the harbor. I knew I'd find the ship.
It'd be too much to say it was waiting for me.
Let's just say it was there by chance, as usual.
I told you the sailors were continually eating.
I didn't tell you they never defecated.
Every time they thought they'd catch me at it,
they'd make fun of me for weeks.
One day, I had the answer.
Your hand!
Me tell you guess!
A moujik is walking around in a zoo,
near the walrus pool.
Two walruses are fighting...
Your hand!
...and when the moujik
passes near the pool, they stop fighting. Why?
Go on, keep on talking.
Why do they stop?
Tell me the story!
That's when I knew they couldn't defecate:
instead of sweating, worms oozed out.
That's really interesting.
- Metamorphosis? - Butterflies.
Yes sir, butterflies!
But it's not what you think.
The worms died,
butterflies came directly out of the sailors' pores.
The ship was invaded by worms.
Everyone went up on the deck; and then...
metamorphosis took place.
The butterflies were eaten by migratory birds
who fell on the deck, poisoned,
the ones we ate for weeks on end.
The boat went back to the Americas.
Valparaiso was seen off in the distance.
I was looking forward to see my mother again.
Some neighbors pretended not to know me.
No one had heard of my sister or my mother.
Carlos Alberto Cores, traveling salesman...
You're looking for the party, too?
Don't tell me you don't know anything!
I seem to be the only one who's unfamiliar
with this story.
The salesman told me a story
that I didn't want to believe.
This house's been closed down for many years.
You have to go around the back way.
A hallway leads to a tunnel under the city.
You'll see, it's very beautiful.
Look!
Now, we're walking past the room without windows.
From here, the Free Masons run the world.
This room is located exactly
under the famous Jesuit pool
where they drown their sons.
Maybe that's why, in this area
the laws of gravity are inverted,
and we walk on the ceiling.
It's not too bad.
You get used to it quickly.
It's very good
for the heart.
To top it off, it stimulates erections.
A year ago, there was a party here.
Several years ago, there was another party here.
We aren't the only ones. Let me guess...
Like me, you met a girl in the port,
she told you she was alone, her fiancé'd left.
You too,
you fell in love.
They invited you...
No, my case is different.
I'd just made a big sale when I saw her.
Maybe because I have
a mother and a sister too,
when I see a woman crying, I want to comfort her.
I told her tender things,
and all the jokes that traveling salesmen know.
I even got her to laugh.
Without her fiancé, life had no meaning anymore.
I liked her,
I told her about the moon, I said sublime things.
I alluded to a Platonic relationship.
I evoked the loneliness of night trains.
We kissed, her icy lips burnt me.
Carlos Alberto Cores, traveling salesman...
Delighted!
We were to meet in the garden of her house.
I took a bath, put on perfume, ate a steak and salad
so she wouldn't be disappointed.
She was waiting in a sexy negligee.
She wasn't bad, padded hips, small but firm breasts...
Why should I tell you what she told me?
Even I blushed.
When we least expected it,
we heard screams. We came back to earth.
My son,
it's about time you got here!
You sister's with God knows who!
She's not a little girl anymore.
Is that what they taught you?
That's how the brother and mother caught me
in the quite pleasant act of...
I narrowly escaped.
Now I'm back
to see her again
because this girl left a thorn in my heart.
I discovered the house in this state.
It hadn't been lived in for 10 years.
A drama must have taken place here.
Now, it's haunted by ghosts.
What?
All my characters are ghosts?
That's scandalous!
Excuse me, I'm going to take a piss...
Dear brother...
My beloved son...
fruit of my womb
piece of my flesh
esteemed and respected brother
my open wound, my torture...
Farewell, my brother.
I decided to return home that night.
You've come back! How dreadful!
Your sister couldn't take the shame.
She committed suicide.
Why?
First her fiancé! What despair!
What endless agony!
You'd never understand
your sister's languishing day after day
and finally dead! What a disgrace!
Think of your sister's shame.
And you added to it: your fighting,
your life-sentence...
She wasn't strong enough to wait.
Now that you're free,
everything will be better.
She died yesterday.
I wasn't strong enough to stay with my mother,
nor resist coming back the next day.
Are you on the demolition team?
No, I lived here before.
Really?
What's going on here?
We're to tear this house down.
They wanted a church,
but red tape...
So what are you going to put up?
A high obelisk in the middle of a large square.
You must forget the horrors of the past.
I used to live here.
I remember an old lady who waited
for her son's return. I saw him, then...
Accident?
the butcher's truck ran him down.
Then his poor old mother
starved to death.
You sure it happened here?
Of course I am.
Is it yours?
No it's not.
It sure is yours.
For days I wandered from bar to bar,
drunk, trying to forget.
That night, I saw the "Femme fatale"
who plays with the delicate heart of the sailor.
Here you forget all the worries of the world.
The only true haven is art,
beauty...
Mathilda was nudity made art.
This cursed woman made me suffer so much
that I forgot all my cares.
Yes, that's it...
or rather...
You see what I mean?
Was it that day?
I noted it down.
Woman...
I thought that...
I don't know...
I was feeling good,
no,
rather...
You see what I mean...
Yes,
that's it
or rather...
You see what I mean...
Nudity is an art. Besides, art is only nudity.
He admires you like one admires art.
There's no more art, only too much civilization.
Art is barbarious.
I don't know what your opinion is.
It's the same as yours.
That's what they all say.
But nudity scares them
sooner or later.
My friend'd like to stay alone with you.
He's right. Art is loneliness.
She accepted to see me the next day.
Tomorrow, when and where I choose!
Delighted...
This disgusts me.
We should have met outdoors,
in the eye of the storm, far from the prejudices of the world.
At the supreme moment,
lightning would have annihilated us.
Nothingness
is perfect nudity.
I'll render your desires transcendent.
I want to see you naked.
Tangible nudity is the skin
which clothes the being.
I want to make love.
Love can't be made,
love is!
I had never seen
someone completely naked.
But I'm not naked.
You see,
I have only one orifice.
I do everything with my mouth.
I wanted to escape, but she had it set up.
I had to do things I'll tell you someday.
Despite my growing disgust,
I couldn't help coming back to Mathilde night after night.
A week later, everyone was pointing at me.
Luckily,
the ship was leaving.
I couldn't get Mathilde out of my mind.
She's engraved in my memory.
I saw her in other women's gestures,
even in those of my comrades.
She even appeared
in my shaving mirror.
And later, only later, in my dreams.
I began to drink to forget her,
but it got worse.
She appeared in every glass I emptied,
staring at me with her fake eyes.
She half-opened her only orifice.
Until that fated day I was able to forget her.
It was in Tampico, if I remember.
Or rather in Puerto Viejo.
I was attacked and hit on the head.
Thanks to a child, I didn't die.
With an old gun, he frightened the aggressors.
When I came to, Mathilde didn't exist anymore.
Even her name meant nothing.
Who are you?
Antonio Morales' son.
I saw you being attacked,
but you didn't see me when you looked into my house.
I don't cry when I see bandits.
My parents say I'm free because I can go wherever I want,
within their domain,
but it's so vast
I'll never reach its edge.
I'm free and I'm a prisoner.
Morales'd seen a lot and experienced little.
He thought books were the opposite of life.
To prove him wrong, I told him my story.
It's good to hear some Spanish.
All that you've told me
is there:
those writers have already written your story.
They spent their lives writing it.
I want to live it.
Take me with you.
I promised to find him a place on the ship.
We made a date, but when he showed up,
we'd sailed.
You can't change a destiny. You'll see.
Want a cigarette?
Not that one!
The middle one, the others are contaminated.
Everything around is always contaminated.
Pity the world's made up of things around...
So everything is contaminated.
There are two kinds of contamination:
solid,
like furniture, this ship...
gaseous,
the air, the wind...
Only one thing is pure:
Our Lady, the sea and some alcohol.
The rest is infected.
I'm seeing her today.
I don't know if mother wants to see you.
The 1st Officer hid a stowaway in his cabin.
Mommy!
Everyone needed a mother,
so he rented his.
Hello, Mom.
A little chap wants to see you...
Have a good time!
I thought I had met a person
able to explain the meaning of life.
Who are you?
A...
Nothing?
Where are you from?
Nowhere.
You must come from somewhere.
Valparaiso...
From Valparaiso?
From the North?
From the South?
Yes, the South.
Peasant blood...
What do your parents do?
I don't know.
My mother sews.
Service of provision...
What were you doing in Valparaiso?
Nothing.
Drinking.
Lumpenproletariat.
I wanted to see her every day.
- Where are you going? - To see Our Lady.
It's very expensive.
I'll pay.
I've already paid for your excesses.
I know you still owe a lot of money.
- Sooner or later, you've got to pay. - I keep my promises.
I don't believe it.
I'll find the money.
They all say the same thing.
Ghosts have told me their stories, you know,
and yet I don't believe it.
Once I saw some flying saucers,
yet I don't believe it.
Once I saw land coming out of the sea.
Next day, it was all gone.
I don't get it.
I don't believe it anymore.
People came to pay off their debts,
yet I don't believe it.
The only thing I believe in
is this!
And in Our Lady.
The 1st Officer stopped me from seeing my mother.
I felt repudiated. I rebelled.
I did things that I regret today.
Maybe I already told you, but to get on the boat,
you had to kill on land and on sea.
It was the secret rule. I obeyed it unknowingly.
I spent 2 weeks in chains.
When I was set free,
my mother had been made to leave the boat.
She had written us a letter.
You will follow her precepts:
develop the memory
which belongs to everyone.
If someone remembers something forgotten by the others,
let him forget it, too.
You will honor her with understanding:
let everyone understand the same thing.
And if someone seems to understand
something the others don't,
let him admit his ignorance.
You will honor her with feelings:
you will love and hate at the same time.
You will honor her with imagination:
invent new ways of being and acting together.
Never forget that memory, feelings,
imagination and understanding
must be used for an honest and productive life.
To pass the time, we told stories.
We even had contests where I always won.
Do you know the story of the albino twins?
Of the gray snakes?
Of the flying rabbit who kills newlyweds?
Never mention rabbits on a boat!
Of the crying bull?
Of the living dead?
- Of the mother with her children... - Stories... Stories!
I came back to the house. It was shut.
Neighbors told me the story...
Several years ago,
a mother and her daughter were waiting for a sailor.
One day, he came back.
He was crossing the street to embrace his mother
when he was run over by a truck.
Then the mother and his sister
starved themselves to death,
in the house.
Then,
other people wanted to move in
because the house was haunted.
Three men died there.
I spent a night in the house
with three ghosts.
With my stories
I even managed to scare the ghosts!
I know a ghost story.
A real one!
It happened to me when I was a young sailor.
When I got to the freighter,
everyone was dead...
A ghost freighter.
That's all?
It's too short to be a story.
Maybe it's not a story,
but it's a true ghost story!
A few days later, in Dakar,
I met an old black doctor.
He knew the Bible by heart, and also
the secret Testament where God says
the Blacks will become His Chosen People.
He taught me many things,
everything.
I called him "Father"...
I never paid a lot for luxury items.
Bread is expensive, but a whole city
with its palaces, its shops,
can be bought with a single coin
if you know how to choose
the currency and the time.
Even though he was among the chosen
he didn't know the name of his people,
because he'd been brought to Dakar as a child.
I wanted to give him some money, he was so poor.
This is for you...
That's a lot of money,
and yet, not enough.
If you want to help me,
bring me, but don't ask me why,
three Danish crowns.
Why can't I ask you why?
The answer'd be too long
because each event of my life
is part of my explanation.
To explain one minute
of my life, I'd need a whole day.
To explain my whole life,
I'd need an infinite number of years.
Curiously,
this infinite number of years
would be totally found in this single instant of my life
that we will share
if you bring me three Danish crowns today.
I went straight to the captain's cabin.
He was sleeping,
but I knew he was singing "Ode to Joy".
I need three Danish crowns. I'll pay you back.
Three crowns?
You said three crowns?
We anchored in many little ports.
No one shared my joys and cares.
I became gloomy like my unfortunate comrades.
Sometimes, I'd stop a passer-by
and treat him to a drink, while I told him my story.
This stopped only a month ago.
It seems like yesterday. The captain called me.
Without reminding me of my debt,
he simply asked me to play cards.
We played all night long.
By dawn, I'd won most of the money in the safe.
You've won about how much you owe me.
Now, choose.
You keep this money, or pay me back.
I want to keep it, I need it. I'll pay later.
We'll be in Antwerp soon.
I want to buy me a bar in Antwerp.
With the rest, I'll send for my mother,
the black father from Dakar,
my son from Singapore,
the dancer from Valparaiso,
the seamstress from Buenaventura.
So be it!
Look here!
"Your" letter goes there.
I'll begin weaving this part in a few weeks.
I bought a bar, I sent for my family.
20 years time seemed to have been written on their faces.
My son hadn't changed.
My wife had suffered from my absence.
My two brothers from Tangiers were rich.
The kid from Tampico had drowned.
The black had died 10 years before we met.
The "Femme fatale" was still beautiful,
mean and treacherous.
Then,
I decided to be happy.
Last night, a company rep
brought me a letter from my captain.
He demanded repayment of my debt within 24 hrs
in the same currency he'd given me.
I gambled
and I won enough to pay.
Today, I changed this money.
But I still need
3 Danish crowns.
Everything comes to its end.
What do you mean,
"everything"?
You're looking for 3 Danish crowns.
It's the only thing
I need in this world.
I'll be the one from the here-after.
Let's look for these crowns together.
Follow me.
Let's get out of here.
I already know
where you're taking me.
The letters!
The spots...
No matter what shape those spots take,
we'll always be reminded of the image we have.
The world is poor.
It's a mix of lines and curves, squares, circles,
plus the misleading conviction
that we're surrounded by all these forms.
The world has two dimensions!
Currency...
I had them in my pocket all the time.
Our presence here is gratuitous,
like most of the things in life.
The first...
The second...
The third...
You promised me a job on the ship.
You promised me, so pay up!
I listened to you patiently.
If you want it, earn it!
I found the coins...
If you want my job, earn it.
But I already did!
You can't just "become" a sailor.
You have to deserve it.
It's not given to just anyone.
You owe me this job. Pay up!
Can I go piss while you're talking?
I'll only be 5 minutes...
May I?
No one's ever made fun of me!
Please excuse my slightly unusual reaction.
I swear...
It's not my nature...
It's the first time...
I did that.
It's the first time... believe me.
If all the jerks spread their wings,
we'd never see the sun.
Everything you told me about Valparaiso
was really beautiful.
Really beautiful.
But the worms oozing out... That was disgusting!
Disgusting!
That was poetry! True poetry!
That's disgusting!
You always need a living sailor on a ship full of dead.
That was me.
Subtitles: Paul J. MEMMI