Finding Altamira Page #5

of Prehistoric Man.

I must inform you, sir,

that this record does not include

any evidence of wall painting,

not even a stick man.

That's why we urge you

to visit the cave.

We were as amazed as you.

It is quite impossible

that primitive man,

with his rudimentary brain,

could create such elaborate works.

Do you deny Evolution, sir?

Indeed not.

But if there is evidence...

Show me this evidence that sweeps

aside the whole of Prehistory

as we, poor fools, understand it.

That's what we're trying to do.

It's all there, in the cave.

But... Hold on.

This.

You will see the same animal

in the same style

on a small stone

found on the site.

We are not discussing portable works

but a vast fresco painted by

a Paleolithic Michelangelo

or perhaps a tribe of Michaelangelos.

You don't want to admit evidence

that challenges your beautiful theory,

but that is not good Science, sir.

This is a very serious matter.

Monsieur Harl

has examined the paintings

and they are nothing more

than crude forgeries.

- What?

- C'est un scandal!

Monsieur Harl reports

that the paintings could not have been

made without artificial light

and yet there are no soot marks

on the ceiling

as would be inevitable

with primitive torches.

Furthermore,

in ancient rock paintings,

the pigment sinks into the stone,

but here it's on the surface

and quite fresh.

In places the pigment has even been

laid on top of a layer of calcite.

But in other places

it is beneath the calcite...

Evidence!

Here is the evidence.

Found at the site.

Fresh paint!

What is this?

Please, this is not the case.

I agree the freshness

of the paintings is surprising

but when you consider

that the cave was closed

for thousands of years, possibly...

A painter was seen painting

in the Altamira cave.

Do you deny it? Do you deny it?

I don't know what you are saying, sir.

Sir, you can't close your eyes.

It's against Science, against Truth,

Monsieur Cartailhac,

this could be

the greatest discovery of our age!

Won't you even look, sir?

I know what I would find, sir.

You are a forger.

You should be ashamed.

Papa?

I deeply regret any trouble I caused,

sir.

Your concern comes too late.

The damage is done.

You left a trail like

a murderer's bloody footprints!

They were technical studies.

I never thought they would twist it.

It's as if you worked for them, you

made it so easy to prove their case.

Every other objection

we could have answered...

Except the light.

The light.

I don't understand

why there are no soot marks.

I was trying to follow your own method

and experiment, that's all.

I can only say I'm sorry.

What else can I do?

Nothing, nothing.

You've already done

more than enough.

What are you doing? No.

Please!

Stop it, stop it!

He only did as you asked.

Don't shoot your anger at him.

I made us paint there,

I upset that horrid cave bear.

I found the bison. It's all my fault.

You hate him because he loves Mama.

Maria!

Go to your room.

Go to your room, now!

I hate it, I hate your cave.

I wish I'd never seen it.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Maria!

Maria!

I am so sorry.

Madame, I have met forgers

and those who commission forgeries

in my line of work, it's inevitable.

I know you wouldn't...

Yes, but a forgery is always

an expected piece,

one of a series

or like existing works.

So that the market will want it.

But no one would ever fake

something so original,

so unlikely

as the bison of Altamira.

Thank you, Paul.

You are a good man.

He is a good man.

A visionary.

This kind of man always attract

the envy of little man.

I've written to Ratter

to apologise.

I must apologise to you.

I spoke to Monsignor

of my fears for Maria.

You're right.

I never meant

you're not fit to be a father.

I shouldn't be near her.

I am a fool.

Or worse, a liar.

In all these years I have known you

I have never heard you say

one word that you knew to be untrue.

Please, Conchita...

Why would you choose to start now?

To make a name for myself.

Make fools of other Prehistorians.

To garner glory for Spain.

Spain.

Beautiful and...

so unfair.

To pretend an important discovery

could be made by a mere Spaniard.

None of those

could possibly be your motive.

Conchita, I believed in Science

with a dogmatic Faith,

forgetting it is made by men

in their own image.

I risked everything I hold dear

for nothing.

Forgive me.

- Where are we going?

- Confession.

Did you just sin?

To the church, please.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It is two days

since my last confession.

Since then I've discovered

your treachery, Father.

Or should I say "Seor Tablanca"?

Shame on you.

How dare you come here

and accuse me?

You accepted my confidences

and then used them

against my husband,

that's treachery...

We did not speak

under the seal of the confessional.

Oh, you and your rules!

To twist my words,

to accuse him

of "perverting a child's mind."

What does your husband do

but stir upon thinking minds

to doubt the teachings of the Church?

His cave obscures

the pure light of Divine Reason

with muddy accident.

I read your articles,

Monsignor Tablanca.

I don't care to hear them repeated,

however nice your phrasing.

My duty is to protect

the Faith of the Church.

My duty is to my husband,

who hasn't one deceitful bone in.

You place your husband before God?!

Not before God, before you.

It's time to make your confession,

my child,

before you sink deeper in error.

Confess to you, Monsignor?

And read my sins

in tomorrow's paper?

Mama, have you got the fever?

No, quite cool.

Not a word to papa.

Carried out by a mere amateur,

this research may yet help

men of Science

tear aside the veil of ignorance

and prove beyond doubt

that these paintings

are of truly ancient origin.

What is that?

Marrow fat.

Makes the best lamp oil.

Why?

Clear and steady. And no soot marks.

Why no soot marks?

It's a good question.

A very good question, indeed.

Excuse me, Pasi.

May I borrow that for a moment?

Maria.

A lamp?

This is Science.

An idea.

An experiment.

A proof.

Do you see how beautiful that is?

Yes, Papa.

If you're a good scientist,

no one can ever take

the truth from you.

Amen to that.

Now you can tell

Monsieur Cartailhac he's wrong.

He must apologise.

It won't be enough.

He accused you, in public.

No, he has all the more to lose.

It's not so easy to change direction

when you're set on a course.

I know.

Think of the garden.

If branches grow across our path,

we just have to move the path.

Marcelino,

will you...

will you take me to the cave?

You never told me

the artists were women.

Close you eyes.

Are you ready?

0P9" you eyes.

Have you decided what to say?

I always admired

his attention to detail,

rare in an amateur.

Will he demand a public apology?

He has never written

to complain in public.

Then your reputation will be safe,

professeur.

Here we are.

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