Love?
Must we?
I was probably the worst bed partner on five continents.
All my life, idiotically,
I thought that sex seemed to matter so desperately to the man who wanted it
that to withhold it was like withholding bread,
an act of selfishness.
And all that bread isn't worth a hoot in hell.
Hmm.
What's always really absorbed me about life
is what's happening on the outside.
Action.
Now, that,
that was something to be shared.
I've always felt most at home
in the most difficult places.
But love?
I'm a war correspondent.
Of course, there are wars...
and there are wars.
Here we go.
Pull! Look at that!
That's one son of a bitch.
Yeah, but you're a son of a bitch, too. Come on!
But I know one thing he doesn't.
Pull, for God's sakes.
Hold on!
Oh, really?
Come on, Papa! Bring him!
Everything dies.
It was by pure chance that I ever met him.
I was in Key West with my mother and brother on a family trip after my father died.
There was this bar called Sloppy Joe's.
I remember thinking, the first time I saw him...
Okay!
"Who is that large, dirty man in those disgustingly soiled clothes?"
Oh, my God!
That's Ernest Hemingway.
Papa, anoint the beast!
No.
That man appears to be indigen.
Not bad, huh? Good day! Good day!
Skinner, another drink.
Don't look now, Papa, but something's coming.
Hey, how's it going?
I've never kissed a fish.
Sloppy Joe's tradition. Friend or foe?
Or faux friend, you never know.
You find out eventually.
What's your name, elegance?
Martha Gellhorn.
Well, Gellhorn, big game's no fun if it just wanders up to you.
Oh, but I'm not one of your big game animals.
Oh, I can see what you aren't,
I'm just trying to figure out what the hell you are.
If we have a drink, am I gonna have to fight your husband?
Uh... My brother.
That's my mother.
In that case, I hope you're thirsty.
You want to invite him over?
You want another?
Everybody Tells You You're Blonde? I find that hard to believe.
You know the song?
I know Italian.
And I know the song.
What do you think of that, boys?
So what do you do, sophisticated?
What do I do?
Oh, lately, I've been seeing the world.
How is the world?
It's surprising, occasionally.
- Is that mine? - Sure.
Mmm!
A lot of rum in this rum.
Well, in this joint, they don't drink to get drunk, they drink to stay drunk.
The clientele here scare you?
Scare me? No.
No, I just got back from Berlin.
Now, the Nazis?
They're scary.
Like smelly little boys running around with Lugers.
Pretty rough company for a young Fräulein.
Blondes get a free pass in the Fatherland.
They do fine here, too, from what I've read.
So drink up.
America's plush as the pope's bed.
Don't be naive.
Plenty of people still go hungry.
You sound like Eleanor Roosevelt.
Trust me, I am nothing like Eleanor Roosevelt.
- I've known the woman my whole life. - Of course, you have.
Let's see the review.
- What? - Come on, Gellhorn.
Every writer keeps one review.
Well, you can blame Mrs. Roosevelt. She encouraged me to write it.
It's called The Trouble I've Seen.
- The trouble you've seen? - Mmm-hmm.
What was that? Daddy loop to the country club?
Oh, I've seen trouble. I didn't say it was mine.
I ran around the country, I lived in hobo camps, I settled Appalachian families...
"The book seems to be woven not out of words,
but out of the very tissue of human beings."
"Who is this Martha Gellhorn? Her writing burns."
"Hemingway himself does not write more authentic American..."
As usual, the critic got it wrong.
I mean, comparing me to you is ridiculous.
All I really did was listen.
It's their dialogue.
The whole trick is writing the way people talk. Most people never listen.
I set out to cover grimy lives,
and I ended up looking glamorous on the cover of The Saturday Review.
I have the same problem.
I think I should go.
- How much do I owe you? - Oh, please. I practically own the place.
Papa, now we're really late.
It's all right, I'm going.
Buy yourself a new shirt, Hemingway.
It was nice knowing you.
Gellhorn.
Come on, Papa. Pauline's gonna be mad.
Who's Pauline?
May I help you?
Is this the Hemingway house?
Yes. I'm Pauline Hemingway.
Mrs. Hemingway.
I met Mr. Hemingway at Sloppy Joe's.
Yes, of course. Sloppy Joe's.
Well, you're late.
Come in.
Such an interesting room.
My husband likes to say, "Kill enough animals and you probably won't kill yourself."
I can see he's not taking any chances.
Ernest has read every word he writes aloud to me.
I'm his first pair of ears and his first pair of eyes.
So you're his muse. That makes you very lucky.
Great talent needs a great amount of care.
But we've managed to make a very happy life here.
Ernest likes to surround himself with exotic characters.
Fascist propaganda!
Some people believe that Franco would not be able to win this war
if he didn't have any support.
Hitler and Mussolini,
you see him here,
are literally throwing money and weapons to Franco and the fascists.
Meanwhile, America and the rest of Europe are doing nothing.
And Why?
Because the only images the world sees come from fascist propaganda.
Fascism is on the move, make no mistake.
And what is happening in Spain is...
It's a threat to our democracy as well.
We need to tell the truth of what is happening to these people in Spain,
these people who are trying to defend their democratically-elected government.
Here you see some of the Russian forces there,
who are also in support.
All young men, as you can see, dedicated to la causa.
Dos, who is that horrid little man dressed as an undertaker?
Pauline, this is Mikhail Koltsov. He's a Russian journalist.
Koltsov is not just a journalist, he's Stalin's eyes and ears.
Only Russia supplies the loyalists with arms, medicine,
food to feed orphans and starving peasants.
I would like to introduce the director of this film, Joris Ivens,
the great Dutch documentary filmmaker,
who, with your help,
will be able to return to Spain and complete this film.
- Beautiful. - Excellent work.
Oh, and it is also our great privilege to have with us tonight
a man who has seen firsthand the horrors that Franco and the fascists
are inflicting upon his people,
he is also my very dear friend, Professor Paco Zarra.
Well, there are many heroes.
I only wish I could have brought them all with me tonight.
But we are all counting on you for your support.
Hey, you started without me!
Oh, well, if it isn't our host.
- Hey, Joris! - Hemingway.
In case any of you are wondering how to sign your checks,
write with a Parker!
- Write like Hemingway. - Fame's a whore, Dos,
doesn't mean to say she can't do something good.
I missed you, you prick.
My book's outselling you in Russia, you know.
Can I say how happy I am for you?
You could, but that would ruin it.
Gellhorn.
Martha Gellhorn, John Dos Paseos,
greatest writer in America not named Hemingway.
John Dos Paseos.
Hemingway thinks writing is a blood sport.
Don't kid yourself, Dos.
Gellhorn here is a bestselling author. I read her review.
She's gunning for both of us.
- And to think she never said a word! - Excuse me.
Sidney, darling, will you take the boys out of here
- and go play bullfighter or something? - Sure.
Here we go!
The boys don't need to see all of this.
Come on, the boys should see the world for what it is.
Not tonight.
- Paco Zarra. - Very nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
- I admire what you're doing. - Thank you.
There's two sides to this little war in Spain.
You're only raising money for one of them.
Why are you backing the communists?
- Pauline... - Mrs. Hemingway,
communist is not the same as anti-fascist.
Does anti-fascist mean you kill Catholics?
Well, sadly, the Church has allied itself with the fascists.
I'm sorry, but in this house, we are Catholics.
Catholic in America is very different than Catholic in Spain.
I've heard the loyalists go into people's homes,
and God help you if they find a cross on the wall.
Oh, I'm not sure I believe all of that.
What do you believe, dear? Do you go to church?
Actually, no.
Oh, Gellhorn! Is that...
I'm half Jewish.
Is there such a thing?
No, we're not closed-minded, dear.
While Ernest was in Spain, he met Sidney, a Brooklyn-born bullfighter.
Now, Sidney's Jewish, too, and he's just like family.
Mmm-hmm.
Papa? Why don't you come back to my country?
If you told our story, the world would listen.
No writer alive has done more to support the Spanish people,
but my husband has a family right here and a deadline on a novel.
- And you? - Well, I believe that the Spanish Civil War
is just a dress rehearsal for the next world war,
and I think that anyone that can go should go.
And how the hell do you think you'll manage that?
You ever try to get into a war zone?
I'm resourceful.
- I think you must come. I mean it. - So, enough politics, it's late.
Somebody has to get up in the morning and write.
Do you want to come this way?
We need you.
We need journalists from all over the world to report what's really happening in Spain.
Pauline's right, you know, Hem. We could all use a new Hemingway novel.
Besides, we need some good men on the domestic front.
Come to Spain and you'll see it for yourself.
I'll be leaving tomorrow morning for Madrid, and I hope you can find a way to come.
People from all over the world are heading into Spain.
Writers, poets, artists, laborers,
all passionate believers in la causa.
The people of Spain need to know that help is on the way.
I'm gonna sing you our song. Okay? It starts like this.
I believed that all one did
about a war was go to it as a gesture of solidarity
and get killed or, if lucky, survive until the war was over.
A knapsack and about $50. That was my equipment for Spain.
Anything more seemed unnecessary.
Needed to get papers, so I cajoled a friend at Collier's
to write me a letter naming me war correspondent,
even though I had never written a word about war.
Fancy collar.
- His name is Sandor. - Mmm.
Hello, Sandor.
What a beautiful collar you have.
Rabbit's foot.
It's good luck.
I'm going to the front to fight Franco and the fascists.
- Good for you. - Thank you.
You?
I'm a writer.
With those legs?
Actually, I don't use them to write.
Though I once knew a man who played the xylophone with his toes.
It's true.
Thank you.
When I looked at the faces of the men in the international brigades,
I found I loved them immeasurably.
They were private citizens, here at their own expense.
They came to Spain for a cause,
compelled not by government but by passion.
From this valley they say you are going.
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile.
For they say you are taking the sunshine.
That has brightened the pathways awhile.
Come and sit by my side if you love me.
Do not hasten to bid me adieu.
Just remember that red river valley.
And the boy who has loved you so true.
Don't you think of the valley you are leaving.
Or how lonely and sad it will be.
Oh, and think of the fond hearts you're breaking.
And the grief that you're causing to me.
Come and sit by my side if you love me.
Do not hasten to bid me adieu.
Just remember...
Would you like some more wine, Mr. Hemingway?
Thank you.
Smell that air!
Spanish earth!
Hey, we're meeting our battalion in Madrid.
Can I hitch a ride?
You can't. It's too tough for a woman.
I had this feeling that one had to work all day and all night,
and love as many people as one could, and do it all,
do it all terribly fast.
Press release from Commissar Koltsov.
Come on, baby.
- Press release. - We do it standing up, we make a tripod.
Press release from Commissar Koltsov.
You're not listening.
To beat the fascists, we need to beat them in the propaganda war.
Beat the fascists, you need to kill them.
You're both wrong.
You have to win over the peasants, give them irrigation.
- Gentlemen. - Welcome to Spain!
Papa!
- Now we gonna beat that bastard Franco! - Hey!
You still like cocido madrileño?
Hell, yes, Lupe. Why do you think I came back to Spain?
For you!
A true honor.
I am Mikhail Koltsov, and I always say,
"Ernest Hemingway is America's Tolstoy."
Papa.
- Have a drink. - Gentlemen.
Boy, this is a surprise.
I didn't think Pauline was gonna let you off the leash.
Look at that!
That help you get laid, Dos?
- Papa! - Mr. Hemingway!
- Papa, what you gonna do to Franco? - Why did you come here?
I'm here with director Joris Ivens and my good friend, John Dos Paseos.
We're gonna make a movie.
We're gonna show the world the noble struggle
of those defending the elected government of Spain.
Hey, what's that?
Here, pass it back.
It's Russian! It's Russian. It's one of ours.
Is there a doctor here?
Is this a woman?
- She made it. - I know. It's great.
Well, look who's here.
Well, hello, Hemingway.
You know how to make an entrance.
Why? Jealous?
All Cinderella had was a pumpkin.
Cinderella needs a drink.
Joris. Dos. Hello, Paco.
- I told you I'd make it. - Si, thank you.
Glad to be here.
I'm so happy you're here. Welcome to Madrid.
In here?
Oh, boy.
Attaboy, let it out. You're one tough Hungarian, my friend.
Hey, where's the front? It's supposed to be around here.
Twelve blocks away.
Follow the streetcar tracks.
Just past the university. You can't miss it.
- I'm Martha Gellhorn. - Who?
Martha Gellhorn.
From Collier's.
You have something from Collier's?
Uh...
I do.
War correspondent?
In name only.
Oh!
Needed that.
You're a long way from Sloppy Joe's.
Pull in your claws, kitten.
I was always gonna be here.
Okay, sign here.
- Room 428. - Four twenty-eight?
You're on the safe side of the building.
Hey, Capa!
Look what we got here.
A real war correspondent.
Another one.
It's getting crowded at the bar, you know.
Closest most of them get to a gun is standing next to a soldier in the pissoir.
Not this one. Martha Gellhorn, meet my Hungarian friend, Robert Capa.
Capa. Nice to meet you.
I know your photographs.
- Need another drink? - Need a bath.
Sidney! Bath.
- Really, I can turn a spigot. - No hot water. Need to boil.
Need to sleep.
I'm on the same floor.
Oh.
Look at that.
Her legs begin at her shoulders.
Hmm.
Oh.
It's all yours.
Hemingway!
Hemingway! Open the door!
Come on! Let...
Let me out of here!
Hemingway!
How dare you, bastard!
Excuse me, sweetness?
Why the hell would you lock me in here?
In case you hadn't noticed, Gellhorn, as you're the only blonde in the joint,
but there's a city of men, desperate men,
some of whom know they're gonna die,
death frees the beast.
Do I need to tell you what these bastards could do
to a big, creamy bitch like you in the dark?
Okay, enough, Hemingway. I get it. There's a war going on, don't trust anyone.
So how do I know if I can even trust you now?
The best way to find out if you can trust somebody
is to trust him.
Werner, you're right.
This is the best angle.
- Camera here. - Yeah.
Look! Look! They're arriving! It's the Marseillaise Battalion from France.
We can see Papineau from Canada.
Abraham Lincoln Brigade.
- Werner, you're getting this, right? - Yeah.
Okay, let's go downstairs.
Coming?
Yeah.
Later, ladies.
Brooklyn! Brooklyn!
Gellhorn! Come on!
Wait! Wait up!
Papa, wait! Papa!
Right there!
Hey, look, they're showing your movie.
Not my movie.
- Oh, you didn't like it? - Never saw it. Heard they loused it up.
I agree. I think they miscast Helen Hayes as Catherine Barkley.
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah!
Everyone's a critic.
Look, Werner. Look. All those people.
- Hey, Dos! Get over here! - Right.
- Joris, come on. - Say, "Cheese."
It's so great we're doing this, Hem. It's gonna be a wonderful film.
Jesus. Irrigation.
Oh, what's wrong with irrigation?
Nothing, if you like watching guys dig ditches.
We do our job right, we make people want to watch.
Come on. There's a goddamn war to film.
This is why there's a goddamn war, Hem.
A year ago, these people were shot for stepping on this land.
It made you proud to see
the joy and determination of the Spanish people.
You looked, and you knew our cause was just
and we could not lose.
To rule this country,
Franco would have to do away with 20 million of those brave souls.
Tastes like freedom.
Dos, that may be the worst line you ever came up with,
which is saying something.
Well, that may be, but it's true.
Now these people can irrigate their land and raise food for the defenders of Madrid.
You're an idealist.
Who wants to irrigate when fascists have a boot on your neck?
Uh...
How are our filmmakers today?
Paco!
Yes, he's here!
- It's Paco! - Wait! That's Uncle Paco!
Paco! Paco!
This could be the best shot in the film!
There's fighting five kilometers from here. Let's go!
That's where we should be! Let's go, come on!
What are you waiting for, Russian? Come with us!
Get your clothes dirty!
- Hey, Dos! Coming? - I know what fighting looks like.
I'm staying here.
No! Werner, get back!
Get down, get down, get down.
Up! Paco!
Let's get close.
What is that?
What? What is it?
Red dogs, your leaders have sent you here to die!
General Franco is willing to give his blood for you.
You trying to get us killed?
They see a reflection, they got a ripe target.
Surrender now!
- Take it till you get Paco! - Surrender now!
Fascist bastards!
You told the bastards off.
Madrid is protected.
Yes, it is protected
for today.
Are you okay?
Watercress.
I used to get the most unchristly indigestion.
With this, I can eat a truck tire wrapped in chili peppers
and sleep like a baby.
Wild onions.
Locals say, "Eat two onions a day",
you'll live to be 100."
What do the locals say about one's breath?
They say!
It is a taste one must acquire.
Oh!
Paco!
Paco, my friend!
Come! We must talk. Please.
Hey, it's okay. You leave him there. We'll talk for two minutes.
We talk just for two minutes. We talk. Talk.
- Slide in. - In the car? Why?
Okay, go.
So how'd you learn to have fun in hell?
Family vacations.
Oh, uh...
She says she has your coat.
My... No. No, no. Tell her she's... This is not my coat.
She says it is your coat, and that's why she's giving it to you.
No, tell her... No, thank... No...
- Beautiful, but no, I can't accept... - Then you must pay her something.
Pay her? I can't afford the coat!
I can't afford! No, thank you.
She's simply asking if you like this coat of yours.
- I like it, yes. Beautiful. But not for me... - Oh, for Christ's sakes! Don't you get it?
Look. There. Now...
Now, it is your coat, just as she said from the beginning.
There's a lot of bargains to be had in wartime,
if you don't mind wearing the clothes of the dead.
Now can we go celebrate?
Hungarian, where is Sandor?
Oh, Sandor is gone.
- He will come back. - No, he won't.
You never know when he will turn up.
And have the waiters say our nada. You art in nada.
Nada be thy nada. Thy will be nada as it is in nada.
Give us this nada, our daily nada, nada, nada...
Hey, Dos! Do we bore you?
Paco should be here by now.
Oh, drink up, for Christ's sake, the man's invincible.
He probably just stepped off to seek relief from one of our hors de combat here.
Relax.
Even a Time magazine cover boy
needs to drink with the lowlifes every once in a while.
Lay off, Hem.
There goes a truly wet blanket.
Do you speak English?
Have you seen Paco Zarra?
Have you seen him today since...
Hey, Sidney.
Go get her.
This one's for you, Papa!
You were at the irrigation project today, right?
Yes, sir, I was.
Did you see Paco? He should be here by now.
I don't know.
Have you seen him recently?
- No? - No, I haven't. I'm sorry.
Oh...
Just outside the hotel, this.
Look, even with bombs falling,
her mother wanted to make sure she was wearing her best coat.
Yes.
Except it's buttoned wrong. Look.
There wasn't time.
Yes, yes, yes.
You capture that human theme. That need to do something, to...
To exert control even when your world is spinning out of control.
Yes. You understand.
I want to do what you do.
I do. I want to do it, I want to write the way you take pictures.
Mmm.
There's so much going on in this war, so much.
And yet when I sit down, when I start to write, nothing.
Nothing. I can...
- So what's your secret? Tell me your secret. - There is no secret.
The pictures are there, you just take them.
If your pictures aren't good enough,
you're not close enough.
But you have the talent.
It is not enough to have talent.
You also have to be Hungarian.
I must you to know I am General Petrov.
I am a great admirer of you, figure of goddess,
and it would be honor
for you to...
dance with me. No, come.
- Come. - Dance? No, no. No.
You are a goddess.
Dance.
No, no. Come. Come, come. Now.
- Me? - No, come. Come to dance with me now.
- Hey. - Come, come, come.
Hey, back off, General Caviar, what the hell do you think you're doing here?
What I am doing here? I am doing seduction of beautiful woman.
Come on, I'm not your property.
Say just the two of us step outside, mi general?
We make duel.
I thought Russians had balls.
How about a little Russian roulette?
Yeah?
Sidney, pistol!
- Oh, come on. - Sidney!
This is madness, what are you doing?
- Ready? - Wait!
Wait. Wait. Wait, wait.
Go back to typewriter, journalist.
Please wait. Please, as both of you are about to die,
or one of you, either way, it will be regrettable,
but one thing must be had first.
The honor of Russia is at stake.
Fuck Russia.
Vodka! Vodka.
Vodka. Vodka.
Made for Peter the Great.
Vodka. Vodka. Vodka. Vodka.
One last drink before you die.
One last. Just one. With caviar.
On real bread.
With music.
Simmer down, Papa.
Come on, we have a film to make.
Take it easy.
I think maybe, today we all learn something, each clay, we acquire an education.
The thing one comes to know about war are not so simple.
Did you say, "Fuck Russia"?
So what if I did?
Well, I say fuck America!
My country is here.
Where is yours?
He's right, America should be here. The whole world should be here.
The fascists are trampling Spain, and you two are comparing testicles.
It's ridiculous.
No.
We cooked the goat.
No, not Sandor!
No!
You eat!
How could that Hungarian do this?
- Oh! - Sometimes sacrifice is an art.
Soon, disaster swung like a compass needle, aimlessly, all over the city.
Past the street barricades, the only sound you heard
was a machine gun hammering in the University city
and a bird.
It was a crazy war. We could take a streetcar to the front.
Get this. Get that. Are you getting it? Are we getting it?
Yeah, yeah. I lost the...
The front was only blocks away, it was very cold,
and the thuds of mortar shells were all around,
but we had a film to make.
Set the camera here.
Get down!
There's stray bullets everywhere.
Look at that.
Fucking grace under pressure.
- Hey, tú! - Get down!
Get down!
I invited him to join us for a drink after work.
Francisco!
You sure taught them a lesson.
You lobbed grenades right onto their fascist asses.
Good. They deserve it.
Fascism is a lie told by bullies.
One day, Felipe here is a champion jai alai player,
and the next, he's hurling grenades instead of pelotas.
Listen to Hemingway.
You'd think his side was winning the war.
There's atrocities on both sides.
The important thing is to report with objectivity.
Objectivity?
Fuck all your objectivity shit.
What got into her?
Hemingway, no doubt.
There's a cat?
That's no cat.
That's no cat. That's no cat!
Gellhorn!
Mama. Mama.
Mama.
Come On.
Come with me.
Mama!
Mama.
It's okay.
Are you fucking stupid?
You are not supposed to charge out in the middle of a shelling.
Little boys are not supposed to see their mothers bleed to death.
Sarita.
- No. - Check the boy. Get him some water.
- I've got blood on my hands. I can't... - Then, wash it off.
Gellhorn.
Wash your hands.
More coming!
Bravest woman I ever saw.
Spying, Gellhorn?
No.
You're supposed to be a war correspondent. So where's your correspondence?
What are you, just a fucking war tourist?
Um...
I...
I can't write. I can't...
I'm trying and I can't get anything.
I...
I feel like I don't know enough.
I don't know enough about the war and about...
About the military and about... I just...
I don't...
The only thing that really interests me is people and their lives,
their daily lives, that's...
And I...
Who's going to be interested in that, really?
There's nothing to writing, Gellhorn.
All you do is sit down at your typewriter and bleed.
Mmm-hmm.
Do what you did in Appalachia,
write about ordinary people, and war
and Madrid.
No, I...
- It's just I... - Fucking get in the ring, Gellhorn.
See what you're made of.
Start throwing some punches for what you believe in.
Fucking war correspondent.
So, what?
As the bombs fall, you know what the people in the square are thinking,
"I must get home."
Somehow, you do not believe you can get killed
when you are sitting in the comfort of home.
Gellhorn!
Gellhorn. Come on, we got to get out.
My God.
You have the most goddamn sexual legs.
Is this what you want?
It's what I need.
So, how did you get this?
Fell Off a ladder.
Mmm.
Skylight fell on me.
Really?
And your leg?
Italy. Mortar.
An Austrian Minenwerfer.
Three Italians with me had their legs blown off.
God, that must have been bad.
No, I was lucky, knee's still attached.
Kept a bowl by my bed for all the metal they took out.
Two hundred and twenty seven pieces.
They awarded me the Croce al Merito di Guerra with three citations.
And he's a hero, too.
I hate the hero words.
And "sacred," "glorious," "sacrifice."
Never saw a damn thing that was sacred.
Goddamn foot fungus.
What?
Bullfighters are plagued by it.
The great matador, Don Junero, gave me this amazing powder.
I think it was Don Junero.
You think?
The important thing for a writer is to tell a good story.
- So, is it true about the scars? - Of course, it's true.
Let me tell you something else about writers.
The best ones are all liars.
It's hard to say exactly the moment you fall in love with someone.
But I knew with him the exact moment when I knew I had.
And I knew why.
In that instant, it was his words. The ones I would never hear.
Whatever private thing he uttered.
Hemingway!
Have you seen Hemingway?
The hotel was being transformed
into a vast triage for the wounded.
And it still had all the old furniture, but it smelled, it smelled of ether.
And it was crowded with bandaged men.
Capa!
Have you seen Hemingway?
I know that voice.
- Brooklyn. - Gellhorn.
I've been thinking about you, how are you?
How are you?
I'm... I'm fine.
- And you? How are you? - I'm aces, now that you're here.
But the Hungarian.
Hey, where is he?
Hmm?
Ask me a different question.
Let me get you a drink.
No, wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait.
I want you to have this.
It'll make you lucky.
Hmm.
I'm gonna get you a drink.
Here.
Oh...
There's Papa.
I'll take care of him.
In the event that Madrid should fall...
Madrid will never fall.
In the event Madrid should fall,
there should be no evidence of the extent of Russian intervention in Spain.
Why can't we film this?
Now, let me be direct.
Zarra's brother
is a colonel with Franco.
It's a civil war. Brother fights brother.
In this instance, Moscow believe brother might not be fighting brother.
What, they think Paco is a spy?
I saw him kill half a dozen fascists in one afternoon.
Can you think of a better way to get anti-fascists to trust you?
And you believe this?
I'm afraid it does not matter what I believe.
Moscow is not comfortable with a leader whose brother sits at Franco's side.
Something may happen.
What kind of something?
Something about which nothing can be done. But I promise you, he will get a fair trial.
Fair trial?
- A man knows his friends. - In Spain,
Russians can be very good to know. We control access to all brigades.
And?
Our comrade, Dos Paseos...
is making it hard for Moscow to continue granting this.
Bullshit.
Dos may be a genius of an ass, but no one is more anti-fascist.
No one doubts the man's ideals, I am talking about his behavior.
You cannot deny that Dos Paseos, you might say, is in love with Paco Zarra.
He hears a rumor about him, and suddenly he is everywhere, talking to people...
War runs on rumors.
Let me be even more direct.
If it appears that Paco Zarra is a spy, and if it appears that Dos Paseos,
the man making this movie with you, is involved with a spy,
then my hands are tied.
What the hell are you suggesting?
I am suggesting that you tell Dos Paseos
that men should not be so emotional.
Tell him to act more like a man Hemingway would write about.
Hem, did he tell you anything about Paco?
Hem?
Two years later, Koltsov was arrested
in a purge in Moscow and sentenced to death.
He truly believed in Stalin.
I sometimes wonder what he believed as Stalin's thugs were dragging him off
to put a bullet in his head.
Oh, Mr. Hemingway, how strong and how big you are!
Your writing is phony! It's pompous!
My writing pompous? Your voice is pompous!
Damn faggot!
Don't you try to tell me how to write narration! What do you know about real war?
Funny how a man has to prove himself manly, I wonder why?
Hemingway is right, your voice is too hammy, it's a disaster!
You overrated, ass-kissing narcissists!
Fuck that blowhard! I'll narrate it myself.
I like that idea, Hemingway. Let's try it.
Yeah, son also drinks a little too much out of war.
- Hello, Orson. - Oh, John, I quit!
What? What do you mean you quit?
This Spanish earth is hard and dry,
and the faces of the men who work that earth are hard and dried from the sun.
This worthless land, with water, will yield much.
For 50 years, we've wanted to irrigate...
Ah, this is working! This is working. This is much better.
Joris, what the hell's going on? I just ran into Welles, he says he quit!
Quit? I fired his ass.
You what? You fired... He can't...
You don't know the first thing about narrating a film, Hem!
Fucking actors.
Turn the projector off, stop, stop. Turn the lights on.
With Orson Welles narrating, it was too theatrical.
But with Hemingway, we now hear a natural voice, a real voice,
a man who has actually been to Spain and wants to tell the world.
Trust me. This is working.
Okay.
Gellhorn, incoming bombs.
Everybody else ready? Music.
Projector.
Hemingway, you ready? And, action!
Before, death came when you were old or sick,
but now it comes to all this village,
high in the sky and shining silver.
It comes to all who have no place to run, no place to hide.
Three Junker planes did this.
This worthless land, with water, will yield much.
For 50 years, we've wanted to irrigate, but they've held us back.
Now, we will bring water to it, to raise food for the defenders of Madrid.
That was my line. Now it's Hem's?
Hey, wait, Joris.
Joris, where's the shot of Paco on horseback?
You said that was the best shot of the film.
Here it is. Oh, Paco!
Wait a second, what is this?
You've taken him out of the film entirely?
Shh!
He disappears in Spain and now you're gonna make sure he disappears forever?
For Christ's sake, Dos, calm down.
Cuts have to be made to make the film move better.
It's filmmaking, Dos. There are aesthetic decisions.
Welles' voice wasn't right for our narration,
and now he's telling you Paco needs to be cut.
Paco is...
It's for balance, it's for the film's good.
Oh, for the film's good, or for Russia's good?
Don't insult me. I risked my life to film this war.
Yes, and Paco risked his fighting it.
For God's sake, Hem, you don't do this to a friend.
Why is it, whenever I mention Paco...
What is it you're not telling me?
Something I don't think you'd have the stomach to hear.
Or it's something you don't have the stomach to say.
It's all right, Dos.
Nobody says a coward can't make a great writer.
You should go off and write.
We could use a new book by Dos Paseos.
After Spain, Dos Paseos changed.
He never regretted his stand against Franco,
but because of what happened to Paco, his politics moved far to the right.
Ladies and gentlemen,