LOVE STORIES LAST ONLY 90 MINUTES
I'M LIKE THE POOR KING OF A RAINY COUNTRY
RICH, YET POWERLESS, YOUNG, YET TOO OLD
WHO, BY DESPISING HIS MASTERS' LESSONS
GETS BORED WITH HIS DOGS, HIS PETS.
SPLEEN BAUDELAIRE
I've always had a soft spot for suicides.
I guess it was the books I read when younger, the movies...
My heroes always ended up killing themselves.
Always over a woman.
But, despite this liking for suicides,
I've never had the guts to kill myself.
I don't know, I think I'm kinda chicken,
or I haven't found the right woman yet.
For a while, I thought that woman was Julia...
- What is it, Zeca? - Coming to bed?
In five minutes, OK?
Julia looked like she'd come out of a French movie.
She was beautiful, intelligent, independent,
and cold, thoroughly cold.
Gorgeous, let's see this movie before it stops playing.
- Ju... - What, hon? Sorry.
Let's see this movie before it stops playing.
I can't. I'm swamped.
I have to write an abstract for my Ph.D. I can't.
Go by yourself, love.
- Going alone is no fun. - Don't be silly.
It's great to go to the movies alone.
Or stay here watching me study. Isn't that fun?
It's time to say I'm a writer.
Or rather, I wanted to be one.
I haven't actually finished anything yet.
For years I've worked on a novel, but it's stuck on page 50.
An ambitious project, kind of gothic, thriller-like.
It's about a thriving butcher who gets a camera from his wife.
From then on, his life changes.
He, a rude, materialistic man before,
starts seeing photography
as a manifestation of his sensibility.
In short, he becomes an artist, hires models to pose in his shop.
Takes pictures of them naked,
hanging from hooks like pieces of meat.
All is well, until one day,
the police find a dead woman in his shop.
Just a detail: She was brutally murdered.
More deaths ensue...
How does it end?
That's the problem.
I've never gotten past page 50.
And I think I never will.
- Zeca, what do you want? - What do you think?
Come on, hon, we just had sex. That's all you think about.
You're too gorgeous, baby, I get horny again.
- You got nothing else to do? - Better than fucking you?
How about reading a book, doing the dishes...
Why don't you write? Seriously, Zeca, go write!
Zeca, come on, I'm studying.
Zeca, I'm not in the mood! Can't you see I'm studying?
Sorry.
Now don't sulk.
I can see you pouting already.
Do you have my pink notebook?
Do you?
Come on, this a joke? This elevator works one day out of six. Amazing!
Son of a bitch! My key.
- What? - Always the same.
- I've forgotten my key. - Take mine, no sweat.
How will you get in?
No biggy, I'll just be back at night.
Can I ask what you'll be doing all day?
I'll be with my mistress. Maybe she'll give me some.
So you'll be with your mistress?
Give me my stuff. I hope I'm not forgetting anything.
- When will you be back? - Late, but I'll be working.
Someone has to work around here.
Good morning, Zé.
I could've introduced my father later on,
but it's vital he pops up straight away
to set up the conflict, you know?
His name is Humberto, and as you can see,
he lives for books.
Ever since my mother died, he's been living for his work.
Once I told him he should get married again,
and he retorted there is more passion
between the pages of books than in between thighs.
It's a weird way of coping with Ioneliness.
An aspiring writer, he dreams I can accomplish
what his total lack of talent never let him: Write a novel.
Look, look at this beauty.
An 1810 whaleboat narrative, when whales were still hunted
on the Guanabara Bay.
Look at this illustration! What a beauty!
And the whales, so many of them!
And to think that in 1810 there were still whales
in today's sea of shit.
The whales will be back when the shit is gone.
They won't be. Nothing comes back.
Beautiful things just die, disappear,
but ugliness, sadness, and evil remain.
But look at this!
Look at this spine, perfect binding...
At least there are still books.
People die, civilizations end,
but books survive.
At least the ones someone bothered to write.
I knew there was a point to be made...
You're almost 30. You have to show why you're here.
You can't spend the rest of your life
as if you were a student.
- You have to do things. - Who said I don't do stuff, man?
You've been saying that since your mother lived, Zeca.
I was nice enough to come see you.
- I don't want a fight. - Okay. How much?
So that's what you think of me?
The money is mine, my mom left it to me.
You just think you manage it.
If I didn't think I did,
it would've been long gone.
OK. A 30-year-old living off an allowance. How much?
- A thousand. - And so talented!
What talent, dad? I never wanted to write,
you guys came up with that.
You don't choose literature. It chooses you.
I always wanted to make comics.
Comics! I should've slapped you around when you were little.
I went along with your mom, liberal education,
that's what I get.
Too much Montessori, too few slaps.
That's what I get.
Write up the check.
My meetings with my dad always ended up bugging me.
But the bad thing is: He was right.
A painter with no paintings is no painter,
a moviemaker with no movies is no moviemaker,
a writer who doesn't write is just a moron taking up space.
I wonder why I can't write.
I look around and see thousands of stories.
That hot secretary is worthy some great, wild sex scenes.
I can't write about them.
Whenever I start writing, I end up talking about myself.
It's the only subject I'm truly interested in.
But who'd want to read about me?
My life sucks, nothing different ever happens. Ever.
I needed to do something.
But of all the terrible things going through my mind,
my response was the worst a hurt man could have.
I burst into the building out to get
Julia's confession by force.
The hassle is I live on the last floor.
So, I was bloodthirsty on the first steps,
but by the second, I wanted to have
a tough but civilized conversation.
By the third, I'd decided to wait for her to tell me the truth.
When I knocked on the door, I'd already resigned myself
to being a tame cuckold.
You took long, huh?
I had no idea what to do.
I couldn't face up to Julia.
I feared once unmasked, she could decide to leave me.
I was about to eat dinner alone.
Dying sounded like a worthy way out, then.
But you can't kill yourself when you're just 30.
Much less just 15 minutes into the movie,
and the true story is just about to begin.
This whole flashback was just an introduction.
Actually, the story begins the very next day,
when I met... Carol.
Hey, Julia!
Congratulations!
- Great you've come! - You were wonderful!
Zeca, this is Carol, the student I told you about.
- How are you? - Hi.
- Howdy. - I loved it!
You didn't tell me your husband was so hot.
I'm a woman of taste, haven't you noticed yet, dear?
- So, did you like the show? - Cool, cool.
Don't mind him. He's like that, he doesn't praise very much,
- anyway, I loved it. - I said I liked it.
Having some wine?
- Come here! - I am.
- You were wonderful! - Thanks.
- Let me steal your wife. - Let's go. See you in a bit.
- Let's dance, guys! - I'll drink first.
Julia?
What the hell, man?
Sorry, sorry.
Hey, man. Want some?
- Hey, welcome, man. - Thanks, thanks.
There's enough for everyone. Come closer.
- Thanks, thanks. - Come here, man.
There's enough for everyone.
Come on.
Got a light?
Are you new around here?
I've come with my wife, but I've lost her.
- Are you lost? - Kinda.
Losers weepers, finders keepers, you're mine now.
Just kidding.
The butcher is clearly the chief suspect.
From then on, the story turns into a thriller.
Very interesting, and after that?
That's the rub. I haven't gone past that.
Oh, come on!
I've listened to your story for hours
and you don't know how it ends? Fuck, that's so frustrating.
You want me to buy the book, huh?
It's true, I have no idea how it's going to end.
Writer's block, you know?
- Rubem Fonseca! - What the hell? Hey!
I've always wanted to kiss Rubem Fonseca.
I'm not Rubem Fonseca, I hate him.
But that story you were telling is Rubem Fonseca's.
Listen, I'm not Rubem Fonseca.
I love Rubem Fonseca!
Did you know that 90% of today's Brazilian writers
- sucked off Rubem Fonseca? - Sucked off him?
Yeah, sucked off his ideas, based stuff on him, you know?
I think I read it on Bravo Magazine.
I'm chick and cultured.
How about you?
Have you ever sucked off Rubem Fonseca?
I only suck people who've been dead for more than 100 years.
Man, I like it.
These police stories turn me on.
I don't care about the thriller.
I want my characters to go into existential arguments.
What makes or prevents you from making art.
The guy was a butcher, wasn't he happy?
Why would he trade a real, safe job for a reverie?
So for you, being an artist is reverie? A flight of fancy.
Deep, man, very deep. Now, give me one of those.
Listen, man, do you like blow jobs?
What the hell, woman? Don't be unpleasant!
Can't you see he's with me? Scram!
Well, I thought we could have a threesome, what's the matter?
All right, let's gang up.
One in, three in, no problem fitting in.
Wait a second. Hold on, hold on, hold on.
Hey, man, make up your mind. Are you in or out?
Go ahead.
Sniff it up.
One for me then.
- Come on - Go.
Yeah, sniff it all.
That's the life, huh? Still in bed.
Well, after last night's spree.
Dear God, what happened?
Well, you drank a bit and acted like a clown.
- Damn it. - Where are you going?
I have a department meeting, I need to dress up a bit.
- Where were you? - Have you seen my glasses?
I was teaching, love.
Put some clothes on, there's a woman in the house.
- Did anyone sleep... - Shit!
Of course not. Ms. Rute is here. Cleaning day, remember?
Too much to do.
Mr. Zé?
Can I clean the office?
Mr. Zé, can I tidy up the room?
I've always liked cleaning day because I could walk around
without feeling guilty for not working.
Because I feel really guilty about not writing.
On the other hand, I love roaming around the city.
This time, though, I wasn't having much fun.
Everything looked lame and meaningless.
For a bit, I thought I was walking in circles,
until I realized where my feet were taking me.
THE EXILES
- Looking for someone? - No, it was open, so I came in.
You can't stay here.
- OK. - Scram.
- Scram! - OK, man. It's OK.
If you go to Buenos Aires you'll get a gorgeous boyfriend.
You know? Really beautiful.
Bye. See you tomorrow.
- How much is it? - Ten.
- Too expensive. - I can cut the price a bit.
How much?
Thank you.
Sir, follow that motorcycle, please?
- What? - That red scooter. Chase it.
What the fuck is this? Some kind of prank?
No, I'm serious. Chase the scooter, please, sir.
I'm not falling for that one. Where's the camera?
There's no camera! I'm serious, the light will turn green.
The light's turned green!
I think the camera is over there.
Hey, Gugu! Hey!
Up yours!
I spent the whole day feeling troubled.
As if I had a strand of hair stuck in my throat.
It's normal for the betrayed to obsess
over the one who stole their love.
A cuckold is meant to establish comparisons
in a rational process to understand
that which is unacceptable in principle:
Being dumped for someone else.
It is vital to get to know your rival,
to know their strengths, uniqueness and assets. What...
What she's got I don't?
The truth is, I couldn't get Carol out of my mind.
A vision of her would unexpectedly turn up before me:
Gorgeous, titillating,
and I'd be taken into kind of another dimension.
A place covered in white, soft and fleshy clouds,
just like Carol's ass.
Sorry.
Zeca, I didn't know you were that desperate.
How about taking advantage of...
this enthusiasm and taking a shower together? Huh?
Come here.
Come on...
Things change so fast.
Fucking Julia used to make me as quiet as a fed baby,
but now, it just highlights my dissatisfaction.
Hi, Zeca, how are you doing?
Has Julia arrived yet?
She asked me to help her with some research.
- May I come in? - Sure, come in.
Thank you.
- Am I getting in your way? - No, no...
- Some coffee? Water? - No, thanks.
- Do you want to call her? - No need.
Just do your thing. I'll be OK, I promise.
If you need anything, just grab it.
Thanks.
Is it hard?
Hugely.
Sometimes, you get a huge block, right?
I know how it feels.
- I write, too. - What do you write?
Short stories, some poetry...
Julia says I write very well,
- but her opinion doesn't count. - Why not?
She has a bias, I'd prefer another writer's opinion.
If you feel like showing me...
your writings.
Watch out, I may.
Just do it.
I don't know, I get too shy.
Rubem Fonseca...
- Is he good? - The best.
"Mundo Prostituto"
- Ah, Paris? - Yeah.
Montmartre. I lived there for a while.
- Really? How was it? - Kinda cold.
How long have you two been together?
- It'll be five years. - Five years?
How about you?
When did you meet?
This semester, when she started teaching us.
- She is so beautiful. - Gorgeous.
How did you meet?
That's a long story.
Sorry, you wanted to work, right?
No, no, I'll tell you, it's just that...
How can I say it? I think I had a sexual fantasy.
I desperately wanted to date a Jewish girl.
But what is so special about Jewish girls?
When I was 12, 13 years old, I read Solomon's Song of Songs.
I think it was the first erotic text I'd read,
- and I couldn't get it out... - The Bible became a naughty book?
No, but the text is extremely erotic.
The way Solomon describes the shape of the loved woman,
the breasts, the curves, the skin...
Your rounded thighs are like jewels.
The work of an artist's hand.
Your navel is a rounded goblet
that never lacks blended wine.
Your belly is a mound of wheat encircled by lilies.
Your breasts are like twins of a gazelle;
Maybe, maybe.
Go on, then...
So I started to hang out at the Jewish community.
Marriages, bar mitzvahs, birthdays, even funerals.
But it didn't do much good.
Then one day I went to the movies to see Shoah.
You know that documentary? 5 hours long,
images from concentration camps, heavy stuff.
Me, even a margarine commercial can make me cry,
so in five minutes I was drenched in tears...
And the person next to me offered me a hanky.
It was Julia.
I think a week later we were already together, in love.
That's so nice! But Julia isn't Jewish.
Yeah, but have you ever tried to borrow money from her?
You are something else.
I forgot to say something.
I'm Jewish.
Carol, sorry...
"Perdón". I was in a boring meeting.
I never thought it'd take so long.
Relax, Zeca kept me company. Your husband is so friendly.
He's cute. Sorry, I didn't tell you she was coming.
Luckily you were home.
I'll go change, I've been wearing these since 6AM.
- Make some coffee, Zeca. - I have already...
Let's go out, there's a great samba party a block from here.
No way, love, I'm bushed. No chance at all.
You're always tired, Julia, like an old lady.
Chica, I work real hard!
"I work real hard." Well, I'm gonna samba till dawn.
She's so lively.
How about you, Zeca? Do you like samba?
- I prefer jazz. - I knew you'd say that!
Have you ever seen a cooler husband than mine?
- Yeah. - Isn't he something else?
You're too cheerful, I've never seen that, every night...
You sure you don't want to come?
Not tonight, I promise next time
- I'll dance all night with you. - Ok, bye.
Kisses, enjoy.
Bye, Zeca.
- So, decided to come? - No, I'm writing.
- I ran out of cigs. - And Julia?
- She's asleep. - Too bad.
Come here. Wait, Carol, wait.
The teacher's husband.
- I'll go home. - No, no. Stay.
Nice.
Thank you.
- Want some? - No.
- Take a toke, come on. - It's been a long time.
Don't you smoke? Come on.
- I don't like smoking. - Ah, come on.
Cool.
- I think I'd better go. - What's wrong?
Hold on... What's wrong?
- Bye, bye. - Later, Carol.
- Carol, what's wrong? - Nothing.
Carol, Carol.
- What's wrong? - Nothing.
I suddenly feel tired. I'm going to sleep.
- Will we see each other again? - Sure, set it up with Julia...
I was thinking of not telling her.
Wait up. Are you coming on to me?
I think you'd better go to bed, Zeca.
Later.
You left, where did you go?
I ran out of cigarettes, I left to buy some.
Why didn't you get one of mine?
I didn't know you had any... Let's sleep.
Zeca, stop being so sexed up, let's sleep.
It'll be just a week, I don't understand all the drama.
You said nothing. This trip just popped up.
I've been telling you about this congress for weeks.
- It'd be later. - You don't listen to me.
I love you. I'll call you when I get to the hotel.
Ok? Take care.
Santos Dumont airport, please.
Hey. Hey!
- What's up? Excuse me? - What?
- Wasn't there a dance show here? - It's over.
They went to perform in São Paulo.
- Do you know if they'll return? - I don't know.
Julia? I don't want to leave a message, my friend.
I've left three already, honestly...
It wouldn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what was going on.
Boredom was much worse than despair
Zeca, can I sweep over there?
When I couldn't take hurting alone anymore,
I decided to seek the one person who'd be patient enough
to listen to me and enlighten me.
Is that a new building?
This place overlooked the ocean when I bought it.
Now...
It's great. You thought you'd have to leave Ipanema.
It's better than that hole you live in.
Do you think so?
Smells the same.
At this point, Rio is a democratic city.
North and south side, downtown the outlying areas,
everyone shares the shitty smell.
Your good mood is infectious, dad.
May I?
I've deposited your money.
I know, I saw that. I'm not here to talk about money.
I just came to talk to you.
I have a problem.
Julia...
Anything to drink?
Water.
Whisky.
Zeca, "problem with women" is virtually an overstatement.
Problems with Julia?
Is she with another guy?
Sort of.
Or are you with another woman?
Sort of.
Be more specific.
Julia is cheating on me.
She's having an affair. She didn't tell me, but...
But it just so happens it isn't another "guy",
it's another woman.
It's a...
And I think I'm in love with her.
Not with Julia, with...
The "other woman."
Your mother convinced me
that we should have just one kid.
She thought it would be easier to raise...
just one child.
To provide...
the best education, concentrate...
all efforts...
and create an environment that would make our child...
a real man.
She thought it would be fairer.
Today...
I see...
we were wrong.
We should have had another kid.
You're really helping me...
No one else could've cheered me up like you.
I'm trying to tell you it's my fault.
- Fuck you, dad. - Mine and your mother's.
Zeca, we spoiled you too much.
A child, a man, shouldn't be raised that way.
A man has to learn to be more responsible
towards himself and others.
Or else he grows old,
but doesn't become a real man.
Like Levi Strauss says
about the civilizations below the Equator:
They go from childhood to old age without maturing.
I came here for your help, not for you to shit on my head,
and shit Levi Strauss on me.
"When I was a boy I spoke as a boy,
but now that I'm a grownup
I have to put away boyish things."
That's Paul.
- Paulo Coelho? - Paulo Coelho?
Am I the sort of man to quote Paulo Coelho?
That's Paul of Tarsus,
Second Epistle to the Corinthians.
Paulo Coelho...
- Where are you going? - To bed.
What about me?!
Zeca, you have to grow up.
You've created your problems,
only you can solve them.
Dad?
Is there a problem if I sleep over?
DADDY AND MOMMY
In the beginning, there were three.
The good queen, the grumbling giant
and the boy.
But one day the queen traveled to a very faraway place.
Really far.
A lost kingdom between once-upon-a-time
and never-again.
The boy was left under the care of the giant,
but the giant, besides being a grumbler was also a lout,
who didn't know how to take care of a child.
He never had any time for the boy.
And so the boy grew up alone.
Or rather, the boy never grew up,
he decided to remain a boy forever.
What?
How old was I when I wrote this?
12.
I wrote well, for my age.
You've always written well.
Too bad you don't believe it.
Dad...
what should I do?
What should I do with my fucking life?
Finishing your novel would be a good start, Zeca.
You can only think of that, man!
Why don't you write this fucking thing yourself?
What a pain!
What about you? You can only think of pussy.
At least I won't end up a Ionely old man like you...
Surrounded by trash.
Worse thing is you will.
You'll end up alone, bitter, frustrated...
for never having done anything worthy in life.
I'm going to make coffee.
Want some?
Get me a shirt, I want to leave.
Whenever I stroll around Ipanema,
It's like I can hear Tom Jobim.
I've always felt like the dull character in that song.
"I don't like the rain, the sun, I don't like a fucking thing."
My life was amazingly shitty,
But life can be ironic sometimes.
Someone up there likes to tease us.
Guess who?
Hi.
- Aren't you in São Paulo? - Me? And miss out on this beach?
I went to the theater and was told
- you were dancing in São Paulo. - I didn't want to go.
You know, I tire of things too fast.
I feel I have to live a million things at once.
Or else, I get bored.
I see.
Wanna go for a dip?
- No. - Come on!
- Come with me. - No way, I have no trunks.
- Nothing under there? - Underwear?
Do you think anyone will care? This is Ipanema, come on...
No, I'm not going. Stay, stay.
Come on! Come on, Zeca!
Come on, come!
Hurry up, come!
Shit, son of a bitch. God forbid!
You have the cutest ass, you know?
Thank you.
Although that was the last compliment I expected to hear.
You're a fucking great kisser.
- I don't think this will work. - Why?
- You know why. - What?
Julia, have you forgotten about her?
What about Julia?
What do you think about all this?
When I first found out I got...
But then, something really absurd happened.
I fell in love with you.
I can't stop thinking about you for a second even.
- Are you serious? - What?
I can't get you out of my mind.
I want you.
Shall we go to my place?
Wait, wait.
Let me get ready.
I'll be right back. Make yourself at home.
Hold it, hold it!
What the fuck is that?
Dick, dick, dick...
What's that, girl?
Get that shit away from me, Get that shit away.
- It's just a toy. - Just a toy, my ass.
- Afraid? - What the fuck, girl?
- What's with you? Scram! - Come here.
No, go, take it off. Take that shit off!
Take that shit off, please.
I don't understand, I thought you'd love it!
Come on, hon.
- We've come so far already! - No, move off!
Sit there, sit there.
Sit there.
- What the fuck? Shit! - Aren't you crazy about me?
Are you gonna miss out on this chance?
I hope you know I've never done that shit.
It's always time for new experiences.
Come here...
Turn off the lights. I don't wanna see that shit.
Out of sight, out of mind.
It's gonna be good. It'll only hurt a bit, I promise.
Give me that cute little ass.
Obviously, Carol lied, and it hurt like hell.
I now understood the old Brazilian saying first hand:
"I went to get some wool, came back shorn."
Zeca, it's me, pick it up.
I wanna see you. Pick up, Zeca.
Zeca, man, pick it up, I need to talk to you.
Carol called once, twice, a million times.
I didn't have the guts to answer.
All the same, I couldn't stop thinking about her.
Man, she was beautiful!
The problem is when I visualized it all,
I saw that disgusting cock fucking it all up.
Julia's return helped me retrieve my shaken masculinity.
But I was a sad, shaken male. I could only think of Carol.
Sure you don't want to go to the movies?
I can't, I have to write.
That's how I like it!
I travel, you start writing, all affectionate, cheerful.
I think I'll go to São Paulo more often.
- Good-Iooking, the door... - I'll get it.
- Hi. - What are you doing here?
I'm going to the movies with Julia, is she ready?
- Carol, I'm coming, five minutes! - OK.
- I really need to talk to you. - Stop that...
- I want to see you again - Stop that, I told you already.
Drop by my place tomorrow, please.
Wow, you look gorgeous.
Handsome, can I have some money?
Here you are.
- Sure you don't wanna come? - I can't, I have to write.
Ok. I love you.
- We won't be long. - Have fun.
Later.
- I came because... - I have to tell you something.
- Say it. - No, you say it.
I like you.
- Me, too. - What went on the other night...
- Don't talk about it. - I'd never done that.
- Forget it. - I'd never done the "toy" thing.
What?
You're the first man who let me stick it up your ass.
Truth is, it was the first time I used it.
I bought it as a joke. I didn't have the guts to use it.
I'm such an idiot. I deserve it.
- I'm pathetic. - You're wonderful!
It was the most sincere sex I ever had.
It's true, you gave yourself over to me.
Do you really love me?
Of course I do!
I'm all yours.
That night I retaliated.
Revenge is a dish...
best served very, very slowly.
Where did you go last night? I didn't see you come.
My dad called me.
So, did you guys meet?
I went by.
Was it good?
Ah, my love?
Ever thought about doing it in front of a crowd?
- Tell me the truth. - What an idea...
I'd like to fuck you in this theater.
Onstage, with everyone looking, full house...
Julia sitting in the front row, of course.
- You just ruined a great fantasy. - You're full of fantasies.
- Do you know why? - I act, think, speak,
as if I were a character, as if I were in a novel, got it?
That's being written right here, right now. See?
And does your shrink let you loose,
going to the beach, having sex?
He advised me not to have much human contact,
but I approach people because I think they are characters, too.
And what am I to you? Reality or fantasy?
You are a dream.
Crazy.
- Tell me something. - What?
How many have you had before me?
What a question. Let me see...
I think seventeen.
Carol!
Shit!
I completely forgot we had an appointment.
Get dressed, quickly!
- Fuck, Carol, fuck. - Hide in the bathroom.
Carol!
Carol, send down the key.
Thanks.
- I'm almost ready. - I don't understand.
I thought we were going to stay.
I want to see a movie... I forgot to tell you.
Since when do you choose the movies?
There was a great review in the paper.
Take a look. I'm dying to see it. Just wait a sec.
I doubt this movie is any good. You're crazy.
- Let's go, we'll be late. - It must be a bore, Carol.
I'm sure this is a terrible film.
Shit.
Fuck.
Good morning!
Wow, what's this? So beautiful, Julieta.
Zeca, there's something I have to tell you.
What is it, tell me.
You know that Ph.D. I applied for in Paris?
I just got an e-mail!
I was accepted into Sorbonne, Zeca!
A year, the two of us, all expenses paid, in Paris!
- Isn't that great? - Living in Paris?
Money won't be a problem! It's a full scholarship.
Plus your mom's money. We'll be fine!
- A year, even... - Us, love?
Of course, love, us.
What is it? You didn't like it?
- I did, only... - Only what, Zeca. It's Paris.
- I've already lived in Paris. - But I haven't, fuck!
It just wasn't in my plans living in Paris again, just that.
So tell me your plans because I don't know.
As far as I know, you don't do anything, do you?
I was thinking...
we don't have to decide right now...
There's some time ahead of us.
But if you don't want to...
I won't die if I don't go to Paris...
I don't know how to lie. I'm gonna do it.
- I'll break up with her. - Are you mad?
- That's all I can do. - What a stupid idea.
I can't stand it anymore. I can't lie. I can't stay...
- I feel like a son of a bitch. - Am I a son of a bitch?
- Not the same, she's my wife. - And my best friend.
- Good friends. - Very good.
- Very "close" friends. - Close, yes.
You'll never understand. I like her a lot.
- What about me?! - I like you a lot, too.
Can't you see this is morally wrong?
Stop being so square, Zeca.
I don't want to lose Julia, I won't lose Julia.
- Ludicrous. - It's good as it is, why ruin it?
Silly. I love you.
Carol was right.
If everything was fine, why complicate it?
I was living in the best of worlds.
I'd spend the nights with Julia, afternoons with Carol.
I felt as if I were in a Vaudevillian show,
walking out one door, into another.
Literally speaking.
But the ins and outs started to get tiresome.
I had no emotional structure,
or even the energy to juggle two women.
Some people just can't be happy.
All was well, I should be the happiest man on earth.
But I had to find something wrong.
At that point, nothing seemed worse
than sharing two wonderful women.
Kinda confused? I really am a confusing guy.
In any case, I decided to end it.
I plotted a genius plan... It couldn't fail.
Love, I'm late.
- Zeca, I'm late, hold it. - Don't leave, beautiful.
I can't.
I love it when you wake up horny,
but won't you be like that when I come back in about 4 hours?
If you come back soon.
- I will, after lunch. - What time?
I don't know...
- Ah, Zeca. - What time after lunch?
What is it? Wanna set up a sex schedule?
I wanna wait. I wanna be ready here.
I don't know, 2:00. Is that good for you?
Two o'clock, then.
Agreed.
2:00 is not 2:30.
Or 2:15
- Hey. - Hi.
What are you doing here? Did we set a date?
- I miss you. - So cute.
- Wanna go to the beach? - No, let's go to my place.
- What about Julia? - She'll be home at night.
We have all day, come!
- But the sun is great. - Forget the beach.
Let's go to my place. I want you now.
Wait, this is kind of weird. Here, in your bed?
- Kind of bad, no? - There's no danger.
Julia, my love...
- Julia, sorry, I can explain! - Shut up, you son of a bitch!
Julia, don't do that!
Let go of me! Don't touch me! Let go!
- Beautiful... - Beautiful, my ass.
- Let's talk, calm down, love! - Fucking slut!
Calm down, love.
I was feeling like a jerk, but my plan was working.
In my home!
I'd get rid of one, keep the other.
It didn't matter which one. Things would go back to normal.
Put this on, you whore!
- Calm down, calm down. - Calm down, my ass!
- But then... - Get out.
Not you, girl. Sit down, I still wanna give you hell.
Get out, Zeca!
- What do you mean? - Are you deaf, you brat?
- What do you mean, let's talk! - Get out, get out!
Wait, calm down, beautiful. Calm down.
Get out of this house now, Zeca!
- Julia. - Get out!
It couldn't be happening.
I realized my genius plan wasn't all that great.
Moron.
What's this?
You won't even speak to me? Can't you see...
What do you think this is, you jerk?
- Let me explain! - Explain?
Zeca, I'm not interested at all in listening to you.
To tell you the truth, just go fuck yourself!
Did you understand what happened?
Neither did I...
I spent hours brooding over what could've happened between them.
I could only picture one thing:
I'm sorry...
How did Zeca get dragged into this?
It was supposed to be a fling.
But we ended up getting too involved.
Forgive me, please
Please.
I have to get away.
I don't know if that's what's happened,
I'm just guessing.
Fact is I turned into an extra in my own story.
And like every extra, discarded on the next scene.
What followed were awful days and even worse nights.
Not happy in being responsible for my own downfall,
I tried to remedy the situation.
But as usual,
trying to patch things up only makes things worse.
First I went to Julia...
Leave, please.
Please, Julia! Please!
Come back home, Julia!
Don't do that to me, Julia!
Then, I went after Carol...
Carol!
You fool, go away! Go away!
My suffering wasn't over yet.
The mercy shot was about to come.
Julia's been here today.
Julia?
You met her? Did you tell her I'm fucked, that I...
For God's sake, Zeca, have some self-respect.
Why would I do that?
And it wouldn't do any good anyway, she's leaving.
Leaving? What you mean?
For Paris. A scholarship, I think.
- I can't believe it... - She even bought the tickets.
What do you mean "tickets"? How many tickets?
She said tickets.
Maybe it's not the ideal time for me to tell you this...
I don't think Julia was for you. She's always been so mature,
focused, ambitious...
I'm surprised it lasted that long.
There's only one thing to do:
Sit your ass in front of the computer
and finish your fucking book.
I thought a lot about killing myself those days.
I'd close all the windows, seal everything shut,
and turn on the gas.
I'd die asleep, dreaming about Carol and Julia,
both in bed with me,
the three of us fucking like crazy.
At least I'd die with a hard-on!
Why didn't I do it?
I don't mean killing myself.
These morbid ideas don't last long in my mind.
But why didn't I keep them both?
All was well, everyone was happy.
Why did I have to play the good guy and ruin it all?
I couldn't answer.
I was really a dumb guy.
I decided to drink till I forgot my own name.
When I was almost there, someone decided to remind me...
Rubem Fonseca!
Don't you remember me? Ingrate, ingrate!
But I remember you very well, guy.
I told you I'm not Rubem Fonseca, fuck!
The name doesn't matter. What counts is the style!
Forget about me, leave me. Leave me alone.
Whoa, you are really down in the dumps!
Hey! Hey! Let's sing to cheer you up, man!
Let's sing to cheer you up! Hey!
Hey, hold it. Stop it. Come on, stop it, crazy girl.
Great, very good. Thanks, very good.
What's going on, man?
Creative crisis? You can't write anymore?
- Is that it? - Leave me alone, please.
I know what it is.
Heart stuff, right?
Did you get dumped?
Did you, poet?
Were you dumped?
It's a pain, isn't it? It hurts.
It does hurt, I know.
Don't be like that.
Man, don't be like that.
You know what?
I have a cure for that.
Did you know?
Do you know what the only thing that can cure that is?
A fuck, you know? A fuck?
You know? A great fuck?
A hallucinating fuck?
You get it?
It's true, man, trust me.
- It can't fail. - Get this girl out of here.
Hey, a toast. Let's toast, poet?
Hey, Nelson, to the fucking great fuck!
That's it!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Great fuck.
Let's drink!
Nelson, what good stuff do you have for us?
That's good, we'll have it.
Drink up, drink up!
Bebe.
Wow.
What a madhouse!
Jesus!
You better?
Yeah.
Are you all right? Look at me, you OK?
Shit, stop.
Here. Take it.
Shit. Be careful, get up... Careful.
Wait up. No, wait up.
I've hit rock bottom.
My time in hell was over.
I've learned my lesson.
But now that everything was over,
why not have an uplifting ending?
My dad was right.
I was 30, and it was high time I started acting like a man.
I was 30, and had a novel to finish.
Love stories only last 90 minutes.
Life has much longer and interesting stories.
English Version: JOSÉ MOREIRA DA SILVA