The consumer price index went up 0% in the month of June.
The Treasury Department is optimistic
about reaching a 5% rate of inflation.
Government spokesman Javier Solana says statements made by Minister Barrionuevo
were misinterpreted.
Overstepping the limits of the Constitution
in the fight against terrorism was never an issue.
Gerardo Iglesias proposed general guidelines
for the 12th Congress of the Spanish Communist Party
to the central committee.
All topics except the party's Marxist Communist revolutionary nature
will be open for debate.
The Supreme Council on Military Justice will review the sentences
of the remaining prisoners involved in the coup attempt.
Some could receive shortened sentences
in the next few months.
The State Council of the Democratic Republic of Germany
has decreed a general amnesty and eliminated the death penalty,
an unprecedented move in Eastern European countries.
This afternoon a forest fire
has spread at least 6 kilometers between Valencia and Castelldn.
Strong winds have complicated efforts to put it out.
Jesus Gil y Gil, the man of the hour.
Cambio 16 reveals the character o pain Is new soccer messiah.
Read Cambio 16.
And now, The Hunter's Corner.
Already half past
It was 77 degrees at 9 in the morning.
It's gonna be so hot the was baskets melt.
Don't be so poetic, it'll rub off on me
and my article will be too lyrical and it'll depress all the widows.
Yes, sir. That's right.
Stick to the waiter bullshit, I'll handle the columnist bullshit.
Like we usually do.
That's right.
You crossed the cafe like a gazelle.
Totally out of place among all this vulgarity.
So it's true you always write here.
Not always.
Always is a dangerous word, don't you think?
I don't know.
Words that appear to force you into something are always a lie.
Words don't force anyone.
Never trust words. They seem like a chain,
but they break just like that. I won't.
Order something, I'll be done in a second.
Coca-Cola. Right away.
Can I
On Monday.
Writing two days before doesn't scare you?
Before, Franco could die.
Now, they could kill the Pope and nothing would change.
As long as the banks open.
In '81, when Sudrez resigned,
I wrote an article about how he parted his hair.
Remember It was perfect.
I said the part never moved because it was afraid of getting
fired or killed or who knows what it was so afraid of.
You think I changed the article when I heard he resigned
The editor called me.
Change the article, we'll give you more space.
It's fine as it is." And that's how it stayed.
Years later Sudrez himself told me.
When I quit,
the article that struck me most was yours, Miguel.
The one about my hair."
I guess I'm the only one who didn't stab him in the back with an obituary.
Did you two get along?
When you write in the papers every day for 25 years,
you don't even get along with your shadow.
People put up with you, period.
Can I steal a sip
Dr. Bram6n says Coca-Cola is off limits.
Coca-Cola, coffee, tobacco and whisky.
I see you don't listen to him.
That way when I die the blame will be spread.
That's a good ending.
Of course.
A good ending.
The doctor says Coca-Cola is off limits,
but he didn't say anything
about girls who drink
Coca-Cola.
Are you talking about me?
I only talk about myself. Even when I talk about other people.
Did you bring it?
What is this?
a balance sheet?
It's a copy. I have to turn it in in September.
What have you done with me?
An obituary I don't know.
As long as I pass.
I don't get why he failed you.
Don't teachers automatically pass beautiful students anymore?
We live in decadent times.
I never went to class. He's a jerk.
Then that's why he failed you. For not going to his class.
I'd have done the same thing.
Seeing your desk empty made the old man
melancholic. He's not so old.
He would read his pathetic journalism handbook out loud.
Nobody ended up going.
Journalism professors.
Can you teach a dog how to be a dog?
How many classes do you have to make up?
Two.
I left everything for September.
This is too long.
Too long.
Newspapers don't like things too long.
They want shorter stuff.
They call them pills. Pills cure everything now.
I wasn't going to publish it.
You're too far, sit over here.
These things I say are totally uninteresting.
Why do you want to know how to write an article or a novel,
if someone goes to bed late or writes at home or in a cafe?
Like there's some secret formula you can steal in a half an hour interview.
No, the secret is giving it everything you've got.
Behind the ironic, foul-mouthed exterior,
there's a little boy.
Maybe an awful boy, but still a boy,
who writes like he talks because he writes as much as he talks.
You're copying my style, it's not your voice.
If you interviewed Felipe Gonzdlez,
would you write it with an Andalusian accent?
You don't need a uniform
to interview a soccer player.
You don't even need to know about soccer.
Don't let it infect you. A writer isn't a chameleon.
These are all cliches, they're worthless.
You're pinching.
Writing should stab, not pinch.
I like this better.
My glasses don't protect me from other people's gazes,
they protect others from my gaze.
I like it.
But don't yours do the same? With that folk singer look...
How we look isn't something we create for others,
like stylists and imbeciles say.
How we look is our bamcade.
We take cover behind it, holding the fort.
You are obviously talented.
This is like being a movie actor.
There's no point if the camera doesn't love you.
The camera clearly loves you.
Can I keep it?
Sure.
Are you in a hurry?
No.
Are they waiting for you at home for lunch?
No, it doesn't matter.
It does for me, but I can be late.
Or not even go.
Check my right pocket.
Don't look for any photos of kids.
The point of an ID card is to remind us what assholes we are.
Ever seen anyone who doesn't look like an asshole
in their ID card?
Rodriguez.
Yes, I use a stage name, like Sara Montiel.
It's expired.
I can't agree more.
Doctor's orders.
No, amphetamines. I'd offer you one, but I don't
corrupt young girls.
In the other one.
The keys to my friend's studio.
He's a painter.
He's in the mountains, avoiding the heat.
I asked him for them before I called you.
Then I tried my luck.
I was surprised you called me.
Were you really?
I didn't think you'd want to read what I wrote after the interview.
I didn't call you to read what you'd written.
What interested me was you.
Did I call too late?
We were having dinner.
I didn't tell my parents who you were.
Can I have an autograph?
For Sonia.
I read you every day. I love your articles.
I don't write to be read,
I write to be paid.
Thank you.
What does it say?
For Sonia, who has lousy timing. Warm regards."
Thanks.
Well then
I don't know
I can't stand people looking at us and interrupting us.
I want to spend the next two hours with you without anybody getting in the way.
I just want to get to know you better.
And you to get to know me.
Isn't that what you wanted when you asked me for the interview?
Take the keys and wait for me at the door.
Wipe that smirk off your face and celebrate a comrade's success
like a good Communist. I'll need the Tiisky bottle.
Save my typewriter and give the article to the messenger from the paper
when he comes at two. Okay.
Use this to drown the envy
and resentment
corroding you.
Thank you, sir. You're welcome.
I love your sandals. It's like they're applauding me.
Your doctor didn't mention climbing too many stairs
If my doctor were here,
he'd say you're the medicine that cures everything.
Inserting a key is sort of like fornicating, don't you think?
I don't know.
Very feminine, snooping around like that.
Are we here to see paintings?
Is he good?
He's my friend.
Careful, you'll step on it. He likes that.
He says paintings should be stained.
Just like literature.
People who protect their work from living material have got it all wrong.
The stain is the interesting part.
And the scars.
It's past Coca-Cola time.
On an empty stomach... Its better that way, trust me.
It tastes like caramel.
I've always been jealous of painters.
Because they don't need
words.
But if you use words right...
But you can't smell them or touch them.
That's why I hate museums,
they don't let you touch and the paintings don't smell anymore.
It would have been beautiful to smell Las Meninas
recently painted.
Good painters
They find a form that is at the service of an idea.
Literature struggles to tell in words what can't be expressed in words.
It gives emotions a name like a scientist
names an illness.
But..
how.
How can you tell this,
for example
There are...
There are too many glasses between us.
And what you see is much less interesting than what i see.
I've lost interest in kissing,
actually. It's great when you're a teenager,
when kissing someone feels like you reached the top of a mountain.
Later kissing feels like a formality, like filling out paperwork.
You can't wait to sign and move on.
Maybe theres a limited number of kisses a person can enjoy.
Yes, maybe.
I must be down to...
my last handful.
auioo
Come.
I'd like you to take off your clothes for me.
It doesn't have to be erotic.
Make it something artistic, like a gift.
That's it. A gift that will allow me
to appreciate your beauty.
I'll stay right here.
I won't move, I'll just watch.
Like I'm taking a stroll through the Prado Museum.
I won't get naked.
I got naked for you.
You came to take everything from me.
Let me take something from you, even if it's just your clothes.
You wanted to meet me,
thinking.
What can this guy teach me?
Maybe I can squeeze something more out of him.
More than what I've squeezed out of myself over the years.
But you wanted to see if there was anything left for you.
I think I've been pretty faithful to my caricature.
This is what I am.
Were you expecting something else?
Were you expecting something else when you agreed to come here?
When you came up those stairs?
Did you think I wouldn't ask you to sleep with me?
That I wouldn't ask you to take off your clothes?
Please, being predictable should be an obligation.
I just wanted to meet you, listen to you speak.
You've met me, I'm speaking.
I admire you as a writer.
Forgive me if I prefer to admire something more physical about you,
something more palpable than your talent.
I'm sure you're talented, but I've met
plenty of talented people.
And seeing a new body
is something you never get tired of.
Unfortunately we don't have all day.
I'd better be going. No.
That wouldn't be better.
But I understand.
I've always tried to catch with my net
the biggest fish life has to offer.
But my net is old now,
and broken.
And the fish, even the ones I don't care about,
escape through the holes.
Some day you might know what this feels like.
As a writer or as a person.
If you do, I'd like you to remember today
with a forgiving smile.
At least he tried, you'll say.
Before...
when something important happened to me, I'd rush off to write about it.
Now I'd happily stop writing if only something would happen to me.
What gets me most is that nothing will happen here today.
I'm sorry. That's okay.
I should have known the moment I saw your jeans.
Jeans were invented to not be taken off all day
To take the horse to the stable and run cattle in the valley.
In movies cowboys even sleep in their jeans.
Theyre no good for a striptease.
That's why they carry their guns on the outside.
I'm applauding on the inside.
A little music would help.
No, music gets in the way.
In movies it's like a traffic signal
for the audience.
So they know when to cry, when to be scared...
I know exactly
how I'm supposed to feel right now.
The gorilla has awaken.
Thanks to you.
Coming?
I'll go wash it off.
Don't move.
You're crazy, you know that?
The gorilla fell asleep again.
It's freezing!
I hate cold water. It reminds me of my childhood.
I think I'm gonna die.
The gorilla won't survive this.
I'm leaving.
Don't be angry.
Leave, now.
Yeah, I feel a little strange here.
That's...
That's worse than a cold shower.
It won't open.
It won't open...
Here, let me.
You're kidding me.
How absurd.
Why did you close it?
How should I know doors are meant to be closed?
And opened. It has to open.
Let me.
Is it stuck?
God damn it.
It's stuck.
Yeah, I know.
Come on, help me.
Let's see.
Okay, take it easy.
One, two and three!
There's no way. Give me a minute.
Hold on a second.
Hold on a second...
it'll open...
One second, let me...
What's so funny?
I don't know.
It's ridiculous.
I know it's ridiculous.
You don't have to tell me.
Try calling your friend.
Sure.
Go ahead, pass me the phone.
Hello?
Is anybody there?
We're locked in here! What are you doing?
Somebody has to open the door. You'll cause a scandal.
What scandal? Somebody will hear us.
What do we tell them?
To open the door.
And call the fire department.
Hold on.
There must be a less scandalous option.
Let's see.
Are you hurt?
Let's just say I don't kick doors down
very often. Yeah, I can see that.
This is absolutely insane.
Luis won't be back to paint until Monday.
Two days locked in here.
When I don't show up later my wife will get nervous
but until tomorrow I don't think...
she'll call the police.
My parents will worry a lot sooner.
Do they know youre with me?
That won't happen.
We'll get out of here before.
We'll get out of here.
Neighbors!
Is anybody out there?
We're in apartment 3D! Is
Neighbors!
Can anybody hear me?
Neighbors!
I can't believe there's nobody out there.
Neighbors!
Can anybody hear me?
Somebody will come.
Is this the only towel we have?
Here.
Friends, Romans, countrymen.
Lend me your ears.
Brutus says...
What would Shakespeare do?
Two people who want to be together isn't the same thing
as two people forced to be together.
That detail completely changes the plot.
Would it be a comedy or a tragedy? What do you think?
Until my parents find me, a comedy.
And after that
A tragedy with murders.
Parents nowadays aren't like they used to be.
My dad is.
What does he do?
He's in the military.
You're kidding. Even has a gun!
What branch
He's Lieutenant Colonel of the Madrid Command.
What's his name?
Soriano Castroviejo.
Serafin Soriano Castroviejo is your father?
Then you're Isabel's sister.
How many years between you?
She's my older sister.
Eight siblings. Eight...
She's 17 years older than me.
I met your sister when she was in the acting group.
They were dying for me to write about them.
She was a great girl.
And she was hot.
I never got to fuck her, but I really liked her.
That black hair...
We're totally different.
Yeah, in that you and I probably won't fuck either.
Your dad was a real fascist back then.
The type who reached for his gun if he heard the word democracy.
I had a couple military trials
for two articles.
One in the early 70's, the other after Franco died.
For offending the military.
You wouldn't remember, you were just a kid.
I remember Tejero. That was yesterday.
I went through my paranoid phase years ago.
I had some government agents who followed me at times.
They messed with me, you know,
warnings to let you know you were under surveillance.
I was terrified, what nonsense... I fucked a transvestite.
I don't know.
I thought they'd sell it to a tabloid
to fuck with him a little.
Everybody was paranoid back then.
Now the socialists raised their wages and everybody's happy.
What I'd give for a cigarette and a whisky.
Maybe they'll do to me what they did to Suso and his wife.
You know, Suso de la Guardia, the political commentator.
Yeah, sure.
He disappeared a couple years ago.
He fucked anything that walked and his wife was fed up
because he'd come home a complete mess.
The guy was drinking himself to death.
He drank like the British.
The Spanish drink to loosen up.
The British drink to kill themselves.
For them it's like a job, not a hobby.
He was like a Brit in that sense.
But not as a writer.
His writing was messy, smudged, incomprehensible.
Like he put his sentences in a blender and it came out lumpy.
Anyway, he had sex with some girl, I don't remember who,
and he got so shitfaced
that when the girl left the hotel he fell asleep.
More like passed out.
And he didn't go home that night because he woke up at noon
the next day. So he turns on the TV
and sees everybody's going nuts
saying he'd been kidnapped by ETA.
So he calls the paper. What happened?
Nobody kidnapped me.
His wife had made it all up to teach him a lesson.
That's what his friends said.
An old man's battle stories.
I bet your dad...
has his battle stones.
Though he didn't get to be the hero of Alcazar.
What did he get?
the dirty war, the Green March, the coup attempt...
Your sister was a classic example of the fascists' offspring.
She was funny,
liked a good time liked to fuck...
Always hanging out with those baby-faced short actors with big heads
who look so good on camera.
She said your dad were at odds
because she didnt lose Communist plays that were in fashion back then.
Intellectual brats.
They wanted to conquer the workers with that.
Workers just want to see Norma Duval's tits.
My sister and dad still fight.
They have it out every Christmas.
Is she still acting
working on a TV series.
She never talked about me.
She got me your number.
Through a friend.
I told her I had to write an article for class
and I was considering you.
And If she had a number, because
I left messages at the paper... I never go there.
They don't let you drink anymore.
What did she say, that we were friends?
More like acquaintances.
I remember one night I asked her.
Are we gonna fuck or what"
And she said: "I'm afraid not."
It's funny, if she saw us now...
I doubt she's as pretty now as her little sister.
No, she and I...
are both over the hill.
You're still wearing a child's pajamas.
She said you were overrated as a writer.
Wow.
I thought the ones you screwed
always hold a grudge,
but I see you have to watch out for the ones you don't screw as well.
I'll tell you one thing.
Only a completely overrated writer
can make a living at this.
Does it bother you people think that?
Is this still the interview? Will you tell?
Naked in a grungy shower,
I continued my meeting with the overrated
columnist. Will you tell?
It depends how it ends.
But your books and novels aren't as relevant as your articles.
Despite the wards you've won.
Awards are just... Money.
But you still accept them.
Some people spend their whole lives with a novel inside.
Like storytelling in the old days, I don't know...
I've hung my novels strip by strip
in the paper every day.
I gave it everything I had.
If somebody values me, lave to pick up the pieces
I like what you write.
Maybe you'd be tftffi one to glue them together some day.
Or you were going to be, but not anymore.
Meeting someone you admire is the first step towards not admiring them anymore.
You can only admire bodies and dead people.
Whats inside is dirty, rotten, untidy.
It's better not to go in.
What about your other six siblings?
Five. One died 8 years ago.
They do different things.
One's an English teacher,
another is studying in the United States...
That's what gets me about this country.
We went from a grotesque tragedy to an American TV series.
Like "Eight is Enough" or something.
From Goya to Norman Rockwell.
I've written this before.
So why the hell do you want to be a journalist?
All the interesting stuff has already happened in this country.
Until people start killing each other again
this'll be just a boring stream of economic data and election results.
Maybe not a journalist. I want to write.
That's another thng.
The last 15 years in this country have been a party
for newspaper writers.
The transition the political tension,
the coup attempt, NATO replacing the Common Market...
It was like the unknown body of a young stranger
you don't caress any more
because you're too old but suddenly you're allowed to.
Because you and I...
are gonna fuck, aren't we?
We've earned it, right?
Try screaming, see if anyone hears you.
A woman screaming isn't the same as a man.
Nobody wants to save a man.
Unlucky for you.
People will do anything
to save a pretty girl.
You'r not allowed to go out, or to live life.
Guys all want to buy you an apartment
and get you pregnant.
Go on, try it.
Hello!
Is anyone there? Be more dramatic.
You sound like you're giving the time.
Hey!
Please!
We're locked in here! Help!
Please!
Can anybody help us?
Hey!
Can anybody hear me?
They must all be away for the weekend
because of the heat.
No, stop.
Seriously.
Are we gonna let nothing happen?
Please, stop. I just want to get out of here.
Is the interview over?
You've seen what I am and don't like it.
Or have you seen what you are and don't like it either7
Maybe you want to leave
because you don't like what brought you here.
After all,
I've been honest the whole time. You might have been lying all along.
Forget the door, it's not going to open.
Don't be scared, I won't do anything to you.
We'll tell the gorilla to forget it.
What were you hoping to get from me?
Make off with some literary secret
few naive.
I wanted to fuck you from the beginning, nothing else interested me.
Read the interview from start to finish and you won't find a single word
or brilliant phrase that doesn't really mean "Fuck me,"
Let me fuck you," Get naked for me."
Your friend won't come.
Yeah, on Monday.
Monday...
he'll rescue us.
Like two castaways. That's what we are, two castaways.
Two castaways.
I'm a dead body washed up on the beach.
And you're... Well, you're...
still swimming,
desperately trying to grab hold of something.
You're young and still think there'