Before Night Falls Page #2

I said we don't know|who the author is.

Okay.|Do you have any other books?

Yes, I have many.

I usually read out here|so I can be alone.

I like it here.

Sorry to bother you.|I'll leave.

It's okay.|I'm going home anyway.

You live around here?

Not far.

You want to come over|and hear some music?

What?

I have some|French records.

Maybe you like...

Edith Piaf,|and Jacques Brel.

Pero estpido idiota!

Are you out of your mind?

Take the book with you.

Ojal se te caiga|la pinga, maricn!

Estpido!|Coo.

And so, ladies and gentlemen,

we have arrived at this|auspicious moment.

We are happy to announce|that the first prize goes to,

"Vivir en Candonga"|by Ezequiel Vieta.

And the honorable mention|goes to Reinaldo Arenas

for "Celestino Antes de Alba. "

Thank you.|Gracias.

Thank you for coming|ladies and gentlemen,

and another round of applause|for our contestants.

- Congratulations.|- Thank you.

You're invited to|Lezama Lima's house.

Hello.

He left after his brother|made the film "P.M."

You've heard about it.

The brother had to leave, too.

Simple film.

Just a group of people|dancing and getting drunk.

It made no judgments.

It made no judgments.

People that make art are|dangerous to any dictatorship.

They create beauty.

And beauty is the enemy.

Artists are escapists.

Artists are counter-|revolutionary,

and so you are a counter-|revolutionary, Reinaldo Arenas,

and you know why?

Because there's a man|that cannot govern

the terrain called beauty,|so he wants to eliminate it.

So, here we are, 400 years|of Cuban culture

about to become extinct|and everybody applauds.

And what happened to your lip?

I found somebody who doesn't|like French music, that's all.

Be careful.|Be careful.

No, no, no.|Keep it-

He would love for you|to have it.

There are 150 books that|contain everything

that literature has to offer.

You read them and you don't have|to read anything else.

So which book would|be the first?

"The Bible. "|You have to read the Bible.

Oh, croquettes.|Ooh, Mara Luisa.

These croquettes don't stick|to the roof of your mouth.

They are delicious.

What kind are they?

I n this country, you don't|ask that question.

We're all being placed|on an international diet.

Let's go back|to the Bible,

it's far|more interesting.

Now, I don't mean|to convert you.

Just read it like a novel.

I tell you what, I'm going|to give you five books-

Correction, I'm going to lend|you five books.

You return them,|then I'll give you five more.

"Moby Dick," Melville,

Robert Lewis Stevenson's|"Treasure Island,"

Proust's,|"Remembrance of Things Past"

Kafka's "Metamorphosis,"

Flaubert's,|"Sentimental Education. "

Mara Luisa,|coffee please.

One, two, three-

four, five.

Reinaldo, I don't mean|to be presumptuous,

but we've read your book.

We both think|it's far superior

to the one|that won first prize.

They robbed you|of the first prize.

But, to be frank,

there's always room|for improvement.

If you'll allow,

Virgilio would like|to help you clean it up.

Right now it's good,

but it's too good|not to be great.

Let's fix it.

Second prize|gets published too.

That's the real prize.

We both think that|you were born to write.

You can't be too careful.

This is the only possession|that you really need.

...de la vida.

Las lagartijas son muy grandes|en este baado.

Si t las vieras!|Las lagartijas...

tienen aqu distintas formas...

Where's Pepe?

He's getting supplies.

I don't have to work today.

Let's pick up|Nicolas and Juan.

Okay.

Look, look, Toms.|"Celestino Antes de Alba. "

Now, you are really a writer.

- You like that cover?|- I like it, it's beautiful.

I thank Virgilio|for this book.

He gave me a lesson|in literature and editing.

...my brothers Juan|and Nicholas are writers too.

Oh, come on.

Pepe, we've got the Bronte|sisters in the back-seat.

Look at them.

Lezama is a Catholic;|Virgilio is an atheist.

So what do they|have in common

besides being faggots?

Lezama doesn't type,|he writes everything by hand.

Something you|wouldn't understand

It's called|intellectual honesty.

I don't understand!

Well, if you took the time|to actually read their books,

maybe you'd have something|intelligent to say about it.

Oye,|look at this.

Give him the cigarettes.

Oye, guapo!

Maricones!

Mariquita! Mariquita!

Hazle comer|el mojn de caballo!

Coo! Qu es eso?

Qu pasa ahora?

Oye, welcome to our picnic,|compaero.

Tranquilo,|no te muevas de all.

- What do you want?|- Shut up.

What do I want?

I want Carlos first|to frisk this guy.

Why him?

See if he's got a weapon.

He's not even dressed.

What's your name?

My name?

Franz Kafka.

You're funny.

You think I'm ignorant?

Let's see how|ignorant you are.

Ever heard of a summer camp|called La Isla de la Juventud?

No, then maybe|you can tell me...

when was the last time|you took it up your ass?

The last time?

Oh, I don't remember.

You don't remember?

But, I remember|the last time you did.

When was that?

Maybe the last time|you bent over

to tie your boots?

Est bien,|lo ves, no?

Est bien, est bien.

Do you have a cigarette?

Yes, I have a cigarette.

There was also a sexual|revolution going on

that came along with excitement|of the official revolution-

but the drums of militarism|were still trying to beat down

the rhythm of poetry and life.

When I wasn't at my job|at the library,

or guard duty,|or attending rallies,

there were three|wonderful things

that I enjoyed|in the 60's:

my typewriter, at which I sat|like a dedicated performer

sitting at his piano;

the youth of those days,

when everyone was ready|to break free;

and lastly, the full discovery|of the sea.

Did you ever notice there|are four categories of gays?

Really?

Really.

Which are they?

Well, the first one|is the dog collar gay-

He's loud,

shows off that|he's gay,

there's no limit|to his sexual voracity,

therefore he's constantly|being arrested.

The system has created|a permanent collar

around his neck,

so they can|hook him up

and take him to|a rehabilitation camp

like a Valparaso.

Two is the common gay.

He's made his commitments|with other gays,

has a job, film clubs,

likes to sip tea|with his friends,

writes a poem|now and then,

only has relations|with other gays,

never takes a risk,

and never gets|to know a real man.

The third one,

the closet gay,|okay,

nobody knows|he is gay.

He's married,|has children,

hides on his way|to the bathroom,

still wearing the ring|that his wife gave him.

They're hard to spot,|but I've got one here.

Most of the time they're|the ones who censor other gays.

And fourth, the royal gay,

a unique product|of our country,

a communist country.

Because of his closeness|to our Maximum Leader

or special work with|the State Security,

he can afford|to be openly gay,

travel freely in this|country and abroad,

cover himself|with jewels, clothes...

Coo, he even has|a private chauffeur.

Hey, hey.|Stop!

Reinaldo!

Hey, Reinaldo!

Come on.|We'll give you a ride.

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