La Redota - Una Historia de Artigas

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Year 1800... and a few

Spanish, Portuguese, British, Dutch

and French

still kill... still die to rule over

the peoples of South America

Taking advantage of the

Napoleonic invasions

that have put Europe

upside down

in the ransacked colonies, those who

seek to end the domination arise.

And it's in the South,

around Montevideo

that the creator myth

of the Uruguayan nation, is born.

Artigas

Year 1800... and a lot.

From him, they remembered some

thoughts, some sentences,

but there was no image to

represent him.

This is the story of how Blanes,

the renowned painter

created, based on the legend

of Artigas, his portrait.

...and it ceases before your

sovereign presence.

My authority...

My authority comes from you!

...and it ceases before your

sovereign presence!

Montevideo, 1884

My authority...

Here...

My authority comes from you...

My authority...

Mercy forthe defeated!

Quotations... quotations...

My authority comes from you...

...and it ceases before your

sovereign presence.

I won't sell the rich heritage

of the Orientals...

...at the low price of necessity.

You'll have to sell the heritage,

and other stuff...

Rent's two months overdue.

Quotations...

Master! Did you even ask how much

are they going to pay us?

I won't sell the rich heritage

of the Orientals...

...at the low price of necessity.

And... Who is Artigas?

He's got only quotations...

Just quotations...

lt needs something more

tangible...

Ah! Here's something.

Drawings!

What are these drawings?

They look like a letter U.

Master, what does it mean?

U... lt doesn't matter!

They're drawings!

Now we're talking.

BUENOS AIRES:

Buenos Aires, 1812

72 years before

A soIdier of Spain...

Your soIdier...

Lost in the mess that is this

Iiberated Buenos Aires,

a city that betrayed Spain.

A loyaIist soldier here

makes no sense,

he has no fIag anymore.

My onIy sense now...

...is win you back.

House of Government of Buenos Aires

Goodbye, my Iove.

Don't let them torture me

any more, Father...

I already told everything I know.

I am no priest.

Surely, you know me.

I am Manuel de Sarratea,

one of the three who rule

this territory,

free from Spanish rule for

two years now.

But you'll understand...

this was the only way

I could meet you.

We finally have your real name,

Don lgnacio Caldern

de la Segua, christian,

born in Madrid in 1777.

Joined the army at seventeen

and served with honor in

the war against Napoleon.

Ln 1809 was appointed

Captain of Cavalry

and sent to the Colonies...

to do special services in

military information.

Well... a spy...

So far, everything's logic,

a qualified, loyal soldier.

But then the unexpected happens:

You assault, rob and kill the

most important courier

that the artiguists had.

Lt's clear as water you

want to desert.

And you need moneyforthat.

But, precisely that money?

Today, we face very few options.

One, we deliver you

to the artiguists,

along with the proof that you

killed their most prized courier.

They cut yourthroat.

Two, we submit you to

summary justice.

And we hang you ourselves,

on account of being a murderer,

thief, spy and traitor.

What do you want?

Listen to this:

"My authority comes from you...

...and it ceases before your

sovereign presence."

You know who wrote this?

Jos Artigas.

And who gave him that authority?

Aband of brigands,

an army of rotten teeth.

Astep back in History.

This man decided to withdraw with

his miserable troops,

to a camp seven days

north of Montevideo

leaving a trail of destruction

on theirway.

What do you want me to do?

Put this on.

Look, Caldern...

this man is a permanent threat

an authoritarian centaur,

sitting on ignorance

of the most unhappy,

as he calls them,

who listen to him as if

he were a Prophet.

He's the kind of people that

will always get in the way

of any plan to build a rich, powerful,

prosper and just nation.

Amad dog

will create a mad society.

But, when the dog is dead

the madness is over.

And besides, you're an

amateur artist, you draw,

and you're not bad at it.

In this Iast effort to

redeem myseIf,

I'll carry you in my souI, my beIoved,

bound tight in my dagger.

I've hit bottom,

I can't get any Iower.

This is my Iast assignment,

and our Iife depends on it.

If aII goes weII,

coIIect the reward

go back and start

everything aII over again,

no past, no recriminations.

I can't go back,

I can onIy escape going forward.

WHATWOMAN COULD UNDERSTAND

What woman could understand?

Montevideo, Iast bastion

of our crown

and the most distant.

Not even our uniform! Roor them...

Six months enduring

the siege of the artiguists.

Doesn't matter, for I'm not

one of them anymore.

I'm no Ionger Captain Ignacio CaIdern.

Now I am...

Larra,

Guzmn Larra, at your service, Miss.

Madam.

Look, mister Larra,

I understand you.

Well, I'm very honored

you've come here

to ask that of me, a humble

subject of the Crown, but...

I ask of you to understand me,

I just can't.

No matter how close I had

been with that person...

he might've been my suitor,

but...

I'm afraid a letter

from me to Artigas

could make your entrance in that

camp even more difficult.

You don't know what the artiguists

have done to our lives.

But God has blessed us.

He sent us those Portuguese

imperial soldiers to end this pest,

much worse than the yellow fever.

And tell me...

How is him, this Artigas?

Aresentful, the black sheep

of a good family.

He teamed up with that rabble

because with them he's someone.

They listen to him when he speaks,

worship him. Typical.

He'd rather be a mouse's head

than a lion's tail.

Lf he were right here with us,

he wouldn't know what to say.

He'd say trivial nonsense,

he'd feel out of place, even.

Apermanent threat...

demon...

an authoritarian centaur...

the demon...

but dead the dog,

the madness is over.

An authoritarian centaur.

What?

Nothing.

Now, what interest could an

American newspaper possibly have

in a character as

insignificant asArtigas?

I'm interested in...

his life, his ideas,

his trajectory.

Artigas's little sister stayed

behind taking care of

the family house, just around

the corner. Take this letterto her.

Did you say you're writing

a book about my brother?

Not a book, a newspaper article.

That's my intention,

to write about

his life, his past,

his youth and most of all

about his ideas.

And what sort of thing would

interest you?

Knowing a little about the way

he grew up, his environment.

Understand... why did he

developed those ideas.

HIS CHILDHOOD:

Jos... Jos...

Jos...

Jos... Jos...

HIS BOOKS:

I wonder if I'm not making

this long journeyto find him

only to end up empty handed

in the end.

Why?

I understand there's an official

in your brother's service

who doesn't allow foreign

journalists to get in the camp.

Who told you that? Rest easy,

go there, present your credentials

and you'll see,

they will let you in.

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