Chinese Box Page #4

And I remember...

on really hot summer nights,

my dad would go out

and get drunk.

And then he would

come home,

and...

he would f*** us,

the three of us in turn.

John!

John!

- Yeah?

- A girl leave you this.

Jean:
As I grew older,

I couldn't have sex for love.

It was too painful.

So I did it for

financial reasons.

My pimp,

he had an idea.

He made dates

with tourists

who would

come to me,

and then when they see me,

they were horrified and they run off.

So I don't have to do

anything and I got money.

It was a scam.

Because they still had to pay me because

they made a deal already.

So thanks to my scar,

you know, my private parts

didn't get too sore.

There were exceptions.

One time, there's this cop,

he's a bit f***ed up

in the head,

and he really wanted

to do it with me.

You know, really.

And I had no choice but to do it.

That was horrible.

And he used a

blood-stained jade.

It was an evidence from a

sex crime he was investigating on.

And he did it with that,

for hours and hours

and it really hurt.

I was screaming,

I was kicking,

I was doing everything

I could to stop him

but I couldn't.

So I grabbed a knife

and I cut his dick off.

Yeah, there was

blood everywhere.

She cut the guy's dick off?

That's what she says.

Jim:
Well, there's a vanishing image

of Hong Kong for you.

Hey what is that red thing

in the background

with that face on it?

That's a face map.

They use it for telling

fortunes here.

They believe that a map

of the face is a map of a life,

that you can read

everything in it.

Can you read anything

in this girl's face?

I tell you, I would really love

to photograph her.

I mean, she's the most interesting

subject I've seen so far.

How can I get

in touch with her?

I don't know.

I don't know

where she lives.

I don't know where to find her.

I don't know

anything about her

except what she says.

And that,

I don't know whether to believe.

Do you believe it?

Did you f*** her?

I write every day

about this place.

I write about the economy,

I write about the politics.

And yet I understand zilch,

nothing.

And I just thought,

you know, that

if I could understand

what makes this thing tick,

this strange, funny girl,

then I'd...

I'd be in touch with

something, you know?

(talk radio plays)

What is that?

North Korea.

I don't understand anything

about North Korea, either.

Now,

let's talk about what

you really want to know,

about my scar

and how I got it.

Here's what I have

to say about that...

nothing.

(cheers, applause)

Shh!

Black market

Sneak around the corner

Budapester Strasse

Black market

Peek around the corner

"La police qui passe"

Come, I'll show you things

you cannot get elsewhere

Come, make with the offers

and you'll get your share

Black market

Eggs for statuettes

smiles for cigarettes

Got some broken

down ideals?

Like wedding rings?

- Shh

- Shh.

Tiptoe

- Tiptoe.

Trade your things

You want my

porcelain figure?

A watch?

A submarine?

A Rembrandt?

Salami?

Black lingerie from Wein?

I sell my goods...

Do you know what

Marlene Dietrich said

to a producer friend of hers

at Paramount Studios

when she first

saw Gary Cooper?

No.

She said,

"Oo-oh Daddy, will you get me him?"

The bar is closed.

No, um,

it's a bit early for that.

I came...

to...

teach you a few English words like,

I'm sorry I behaved...

like a jerk.

Um, and,

please forgive me.

And I really didn't

mean to hurt you.

It's the last thing

I want to do.

What do you want?

The trouble is I don't know.

I tried to make you love me,

that didn't work.

I tried to hate you and that...

so I suppose I just want

to be friends,

friends with you.

I don't want friend like you.

... for your K-ration

Compassion and maybe

An inkling, a twinkling

Of real sympathy

I'm selling out...

Take all I've got

Ambitions! Convictions!

The works!

Why not?

Enjoy these goods

For, boy these goods

Are hot!

(applause)

(strumming guitar)

So how's Vivian?

How's that going?

You know, every love story

is the same, I mean,

we have Boleros for that,

to describe the whole thing.

Usually, Boleros are written

when love begins,

and when love ends.

And in the middle, nothing,

because no one

wants to know about...

Life is very nice with you.

No.

Just the beginning.

The love begins, and you go,

I love you, and I will

give you the world

And I will love you even

more than I love myself.

And then

the relationship ends.

And then,

I hate you

I really hate you

I mean I detest you

And I hope your pet

Is run over by a truck

Because

You're a piece of sh*t.

They send you a record...

I swear to God,

women are something else...

cut with a knife,

every single song, except the one

that they want you to hear.

This is when they're

very upset with you.

You haven't gotten

that yet, no?

And it'll go like,

I detest you

- And that's what you're gonna hear.

- You're a nightmare.

When are you going

to move out again?

(singing in Spanish)

Give me some peace,

for God's sake.

You don't like that one?

Let me sing one you'll really like.

Relax, have a drink.

She wants me

to get a divorce.

Or she won't f*** me.

Just lie to her.

Who the f***

is she anyway?

These northern

chicks are trash.

When she first came

here from China,

she was a

small-time whore

getting her tits

squeezed by scum.

She was sh*t

before I met her!

These northern chicks

only know how

to spread their legs.

Then they think

they're hot sh*t.

Shh!

Don't be so loud.

The owner is

a northern chick.

She's no different.

Another drink!

You've had

enough tonight.

Take a break.

She's refusing us!

F*** your mother!

Does my money stink?

I have enough

to buy you!

Buy her?

You a**hole!

Do you know who

protects this bar?

Buy her?

She's my wife!

Do you know who I am?

You f***!

Buy her!

John:
That night Vivian watched

the boldest show of support

Chang had ever made.

But by now she had learned

the limit of his commitment.

And for her,

it was not enough.

For in the strict mores

of Chinese society,

the stigma of her past

would prevent her

from ever being

an acceptable wife.

She go out!

She go out!

The girl with the scar?

- Go away.

- Where is she? Where does she live?

- Don't bother us

- The girl with the scar?

- Don't know, go away.

- She lives that way.

You never told me

you were a gardener.

What do you want?

- I want my money back.

- Huh?

I want my money back.

I thought the deal was that you

told me your story and I paid you.

I did.

Except you left out

all of that, it seems.

- Where did you get that?

- Doesn't matter where I got it.

- I got it.

- Give it to me! Give it to me!

- So is there anything...

- Mister, you paid me to talk,

and I did. And that's it.

Go get a life.

Was there anything that you

told me that was the truth?

- I mean, I'm not angry, I'm just...

- Is there some law

I have to tell you the truth?

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