Calle Mayor: Juan Antonio Bardem 1956 Page #3

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Yes, we're going.

You're from here. So what?

Everyone knows how I am

and she wouldn't believe me.

When we pulled that prank

on Don Toms

we all did what you

told us to, didn't we?

- He's a wuss.

- Right on.

Me? I have the guts for that

and anything else you want.

So why do you keep

talking so much?

I wanted to be informed...

So, will you do it or not?

Of course.

We promise not to laugh!

Listen, Juanito!

Maybe with this thing...

- What did you tell him, you dirty boy?

- I told him that...

Oh, this guy, this guy,

what a prank he has pulled.

Good work tomorrow.

Take it easy, don't scare her away.

Goodbye, Don Juan.

Regards to Isabel.

- Won't you have your breakfast?

- Good morning, nanny.

- If you're not taking your breakfast...

- But it is Monday today.

So what?

You know perfectly well,

don't make me talk.

- What are you staring at? Do I look

bad? - Terrible.

You have the face of a nun. You

never go out and get fresh air.

- Nanny, don't exaggerate.

- I don't.

Let's see, what are you

doing today?

I must go to the Cathedral,

have the communion and then...

And then the usual stuff. And

your mother is happy about it.

And what's her fault in this?

She incites you, and if she can

she will accompany you.

That's fine with her,

she who has done it all,

who is a widow, and a fat

Andalucian. But you..

Do you know how old you are?

- Yes.

- Say it, don't be afraid.

- 35

- And no man in sight.

Young lady, as your mother would say.

"Wake up or you'll end up

like dry tuna on a plate".

Don't cry. Don't cry, silly.

I'm telling you to react.

I want to be a grandmother.

Well, your mother will be the granny.

I'll blow up your children's noses...

- Isabelita, sweetheart.

- Yes, mummy.

- It's the Mother Abbess...

- Help me, come on.

- I'll be outside...

- Yes, mother.

And stop chatting with

that old woman.

Go, hurry up.

- Listen... Who was that?

- Who?

Who, who... as if we hadn't seen

you last night, your mother and me.

- No one.

- Come on, child.

- No one?

- No one.

- Nothing?

- Nothing, nanny.

- But nothing, nothing?

- Nothing, nothing.

Alright, then.

Nanny is getting crazier everyday.

What was that about "nothing"?

You know her. Yesterday

a boy walked me home...

She saw me and she gets delusional.

- I also saw you.

- You did?

- Who is he?

- Juan... I can't remember.

- Is he from here?

- No, he's from elsewhere.

- Is he just passing by?

- No, he works here, in a bank.

Oh, for the love of God.

But, mummy...

The nobility is gone.

- What do you know?

- Hurry up or we'll never get there.

But why? This is what

I can't understand.

I told you many times.

I wanted to see you.

There was no other solution,

so I went to the church.

I needed to see you.

Don't you believe me?

Why shouldn't I believe you?

- What will you say at the bank?

- What?

You wasted the entire morning.

Something, don't worry.

That's not important.

What's important is

something else.

- Something else?

- You.

Isabel, you haven't

answered me yet.

Right... Why do you want to go

out with me?

Does it sound strange to you?

It isn't.

I have a million reasons.

First, I want to go out with you.

Then... I need it.

Finally... it's my wish.

I know how things work here.

People will talk.

I'm not a child.

If I'm inviting you, it's because...

Because it's very important

for me.

But it does not matter if

you don't want to go out with me.

No, it's not that.

It's just that...

Than don't think about it

anymore.

I'll take you to the movies. There's

an american movie premiering today,

in color, presenting the whitest

kitchen in the world.

- Now you're making fun of me.

- No, I remember it.

- Shall I pick you up?

- Yes, but not at my place...

At the theatre's entrance.

Is that ok?

- At 6?

- Yes.

- Goodbye.

- Goodbye.

Modern Theater.

Afternoon.

October 27th, 55

Stall seat, Row 12.

Number 6...

Number 8

Isabel, aren't you engaged?

First it was the girlfriends.

There's always jealousy and

a desire to hurt. But I didn't care.

I was expecting it. I was sure

that someone would come.

Come and take me out of here.

Isabel? Aren't you engaged?

Then there were my aunts, those

aunts that all families have,

who ask questions and criticize and

and snoop. They annoyed me, yes,

because of their comparisons:

that one has two kids...

the other has been pregnant for 5

months, and the other is engaged.

I ignored them. I was waiting.

Of course I wasn't dreaming of

the charming prince anymore.

Isabel, you don't have a fianc...

Then it was my mother.

She was getting nervous,

anguished.

At the age of 30 years she thought

I was an hopeless old bachelorette.

And having only father's

pension...

He was a cavalry coronel.

He could have made a career in

the war. Those from his rank

are now Generals, but he died just

when he was starting. Poor man.

Father's pension and a few small

lands amount to almost nothing.

Poor mother was getting anxious.

But me, I was waiting...

I'd have to marry an outsider.

Single men around here were

younger than me and the chronic

bachelors were out of question.

Isabel, you don't have a fianc...

That is me during my last birthday.

I'm 35.

Am I older than you?

Two years? One?

Well, it's not much.

I saw myself in the mirror and said:

Isabel, you don't have a fianc,

nor hope to have one.

It is a fiasco.

I left a nun's school 18 years ago

and there was only one thing

to do:
to get married.

18 years...

18 years waiting.

Do you have any idea?

Waiting and walking up and down

on Main Street.

And what shall I do?

I wanted to find a job,

but then my mother said that I'm a

respectable girl, and this and that.

And my aunts:
"Isabel, what

will the people say?"...

You know what I do?

I dream. Yes.

Yes, I imagine things. For instance,

I'd like to be an air hostess.

Should be nice, no?

Sometimes I wake up at night

and ask myself:

Why didn't I get married?

I'm not too ugly, I think,

or stupid, or mean.

Then...

Why?

It's a mystery. Do you know what

makes me sad?

If I get married this year

and have a son in the next year,

I'll be 36.

I'll be an old mother.

That makes me sad.

Another thing also saddens me.

The other thing is the theatre.

In the circle there is a group

of theatre lovers.

Every year we have a function, a

proper function, in the Main Theatre.

I've always worked...

But last year...

This is silly...

It made me sad. I had to play the

role of the protagonist's mother.

Am I making you sad?

Don't worry about me.

I'm strong. I keep waiting.

I can still hold on a few more years.

Don't you think?

Look, the seminarists.

The church bells.

The train.

Isabel...

Isabel...

No, let's go.

- Already?

- Yes.

- Come, let's go.

- But...

Please, let's go.

As you wish

Grand Lodge Castilla. Yes.

Well, I don't know, son.

Oh, it's you, Luisito.

Yes, yes.

I'll see it right away.

Wow, I got scared. I didn't know

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