Juliet of the Spirits Page #3

An oracle.

He can change your life,

reveal all.

- He's an Indian?

- Indian, Tibetan... who cares?

Bishma belongs to the world!

Bye, darling.

It's meant to be.

Don't miss the meeting!

He's here just for you.

I can't go.

I don't want to miss Giorgio's call.

- You'll regret it, Juliet.

- Don't wait for me.

The electricity's out.

Bishma's apartment?

The meeting's on the terrace.

Show the ladies the way.

The elevator's broken.

Let's forget about it.

Are there lots of people?

Has it started already?

I don't know.

Let's go.

Got your questions ready?

Questions? What questions?

I'm not asking any.

When I was little, my dad told me

this hotel was for...

- Elena!

- I was dreading this dark.

Hello, my angel.

- It has all come to pass.

- Of course!

That same night,

I dreamt of him.

No robe, though.

What does it mean?

Love thy wife as thyself.

Those who love their wives

love themselves.

Love one another

for better or worse,

for richer or poorer,

in sickness and in health.

What are you staring at?

There's a wedding banquet going on.

How nice!

Love!

That's the second step.

It isn't real enlightenment, though.

So, what is this?

The single spirit.

The fruit is only appearance.

The real Buddha is beyond

such differences. Is that right?

That's the third step.

Now, though, the truth is close

and far away at once:

So what is this?

Isn't it an apple?

Darling, you don't get it.

Look beyond appearances.

The voice of the master

will tell us what it is.

It's an apple,

a humble apple,

a little red

and crushed on one side

but at the same time

it is the Buddha and unity.

Things become things again,

and the enlightened being sees

multiplicity and unity all at once,

appearance and substance.

Is there a heaven and hell?

- Who are you?

- An American painter.

Let me see.

Cut my head off.

Go on, cut off her head.

It's one of the fables

of the great master Lao Tse.

Don't hesitate.

Cut it off.

Behold the gates of hell opening!

And now the gates of heaven.

What's happening?

He's conversing with his god.

The lady called Juliet

may enter.

But on her own.

How is he? Where is he?

He wants me, alone.

Go away!

But I brought you!

- But he wants me.

- Tell me where he is.

Well, the bathroom maybe.

Wait outside.

We've got an appointment.

Juliet, do you know

the Kama Sutra?

Sexual intercourse

is a conflict.

To be happy, you must behave

as if in combat.

The place to be fought over

is the body.

The body?

And within the body,

the shoulders

and between the breasts.

The sound that must be produced

to procure pleasure is the "Hin."

The great sigh.

The sound "put."

The sound "fut."

And the sound "plat."

You might add sounds such as those

produced by pigeons,

ducks, green sparrows,

flamingos,

quail, and storks.

Sounds that can be used

depending on the occasion.

Different kinds of bites.

The blind bite,

the breathy bite,

the point,

the coral jewel line,

the torn cloud,

the wolf bite.

Love is a religion, Juliet.

Your husband is your god.

You are the priestess of this cult.

Your spirit must burn up

like this incense,

go up in smoke,

on the altar

of your loving body.

Now, if you have any questions,

the master will gladly answer.

Well, no, nothing.

Here's what's happening.

It's as if everything's been lost

since last night.

I'm afraid my husband

has another woman.

Learn to better please

your husband.

I do please him.

Do you remember me?

I was born this way,

donna d'amore.

Am I not beautiful?

Answer honestly,

am I not beautiful?

- Yes, very beautiful.

- I think so, too.

Did you see my hair?

I never comb it,

I simply caress it.

I love caressing it.

My skin is so white.

If I am in a bad mood,

I go to the mirror.

I turn and look at my back

and I immediately feel happy again.

Did you buy those stockings?

- No. What stockings?

The black fishnets.

Women want to be treated like angels,

but they don't do their job...

- Is love a "job"?

- I didn't say "job."

- I said "the art of love."

- I got it right. You said "job."

Whoring... some advice!

Who are you?

Olaf, go away!

Become beautiful, like me!

Female sensibility...

I want to kiss you.

Bite my breast.

More, more!

Please, stop!

I want to leave.

Let me out.

- Calm down, signora.

- I want to leave.

We shouldn't appeal

to our inner forces

without the necessary preparation.

It could be dangerous.

But these spirits are generous,

gentle and mild,

though at times

they might seem teasing.

Were your omens good?

- Yes, thank you.

- Happy?

Yes, thanks.

Good luck.

What did he tell you?

We heard...

There's another message:

Something new will come

to pass tonight,

new and very beautiful.

Sangria,

it quenches the thirst

of those who drink it.

It quenches

our secret thirsts too.

They call it

the potion of oblivion.

Strange.

That wasn't his voice.

A soul speaking through him.

Did you hear that?

An extraordinary meeting!

They told her she'd have

an extraordinary meeting tonight.

Aren't you happy?

- Did you see her?

- I thought so.

- Did she say, "This is Iris"?

- No, but I felt it was her.

It felt like the night

of our session.

Strange.

Who do you think it was?

Maybe the dancer that ran away

with my granddad.

A dancer and your granddad?

He was a professor

and he fell for a dancer.

What a beautiful child!

What's your name?

Tell her, Juliet!

See how brave this beauty is.

Such an act!

I wanted to express

my admiration.

A beautiful lady

makes me more pious.

I don't know why,

but I liked thinking they ran away

on that circus plane.

Professor, stop it

in the name of God!

Come down at once.

That's an order.

You'll be accountable

for this despicable behavior.

Professor De Filippis!

The headmaster had him expelled.

He vanished for two years.

Then he came back as happy as ever.

Mother didn't allow him

to stay with us.

I saw him at Christmas

and always in secret.

He told funny stories.

I was a little scared, too.

The bishop said he was

one of the devil's disciples.

I was still a child

at his funeral.

Mother didn't shed a tear.

She wore a beautiful black dress.

- She's a beauty.

- Yes, she is.

One night I saw her in the corridor.

She looked like a queen.

Perhaps she was going to a ball

with my father.

Rosa Aurata.

A name like poetry.

I used to grow them, too.

My garden in Cordoba was famous.

You're very lucky.

Flowers are grateful when loved.

These plants get lots of love.

It shows.

You must be a very loving person

to give so much every day.

Is this right, sir?

Is this the one you wanted?

Yes, thank you.

Three slices of lemon,

three of orange,

mineral water.

A glass, please.

Not a champagne glass.

An ordinary one.

Teresina, get a large glass.

Three teaspoons of sugar.

How about this, signora?

Will this do?

In Valencia they like

to add a clove,

in Cordoba,

a more delicate taste.

Tell me if you like it.

Delicious. What's it called?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes