Little Ashes Page #2

But, listen...

I'm a part of this underground movement,

might be interesting for you - ultraism.

We keep a low profile, wouldn't want

information getting into the wrong hands.

Now come or we'll miss it!

- Where are we going?

- Puppet show.

- A non-senzac puppet show.

- They complain to me about democracy...

Ridiculous.

Everyone in this city lives

in perfect liberty.

Every single man and woman.

Although...

Of course...

Women are free too, but in a slightly

different way.

Look at the peasants.

Why, I'd cut off my own leg to have half

as much liberty as the peasants.

Just think, if the harvest is good...

... they're free to give up over half their

crop for taxes...

If the harvest is bad, why, they and their

family are completely free...

... to starve to death.

Holy Mother, forgive me, I have sinned.

I have had impure thoughts.

Help me to resist temptation.

So, once more - forget the rules!

There is no science to art.

Feel the drawing!

Interpret... Interpret and then draw

exactly what you see.

See with your soul... See what you feel...

Express... Express...

Mr. Dal! Mr. Dal!

So... They won't publish me.

They won't publish me unless I get

a male penname.

I said to them, "I've got a name for you..."

"Pope bloody Joan"

They were so apologetic, so embarassed...

"Miss Merra, if it were up to us, we'd hire

you on the spot, but the public college,

to make a woman write and think about politics...

because of course...

I should be at home, cooking for my

It's just so frustrating, Federico.

- You could use my name,

as a penname.

If it would help.

That's probably the best offer anyone is

ever likely to make me, but...

... I refuse to give into that bullying.

I'll send them 20 letters a week, I'll

come to their offices...

- Really...

- You've forgotten your hat.

- And that's another thing...

I despise hats!

- Listen...

You don't need hats.

Come on. Let's get this thing over with.

- Isn't that Salvador?

Salvador!

Can I have a look?

- It's an experiment in perception.

- I see.

- It's fascinating.

- It's yours.

- No, no, no.

I couldn't.

- No, please. I insist.

- Thanks.

- I'll... I'll have it framed.

- So, where are you going?

Federico is being very kind in agreeing to

suffer an evening of boring music

and horrible company.

My aunt's giving one of her legendarily dull

dinner parties. You must come!

- No. - Yes! It's vital for my aunt to know

people like Salvador.

You could show her you picture. - But, you

said it yourself, it's going to be so boring...

We don't want to subject poor Salvador.

- No, no, I...

... I'd love to.

- You see? He'd love to come!

- Magdalena.

What have you done to your hair?

- These are my friends, I'm going to

powder my nose...

- Federico Garca Lorca.

- I'm so glad you could come.

- It's so kind of you to invite me.

-There are some very interesting people

for you to meet.

-Fernadno de Gavalle and, of course,

you must know senor Milagro.

Magdalena's been talking about you

for so long...

I had begun to wonder whether you were

another one of her inventions.

- Oh, no, no.

Let me introduce you to... Salvador Dal.

- How do you do?

- I'm trying to get very drunk,

thank you very much.

I think soon I might be sick.

- You must be another writer?

- No, Salvador is one of Madrid's famous painters.

- Oh.

- I recently escaped from prison.

- From prison?

- 31 days of absolute incarceration.

I found it, I find it very inspiring.

How do you feel about communal defecation?

And the whiffles?

So tremendously beneficial for the complexion...

- He's upseting you, isn't he?

Come on, Salvador.

- Is it time for my bed, mother?

- Do excuse us.

- Fact remains, that these people are not few people...

- They come over here, living of our charity,

stealing...

- It is essential to have a unformed approach

to the gypsies.

Restore a certain autonomy to the Civil Guard.

- Who are those unbearable men?

- The one that looks more like a pig is senor Milagro.

The other one is Fernando Gavalle.

- Why do I know the name?

He's a little idiot from Madrid.

- Oh, my God!

- Senor Garca Lorca, you are from the

south, I believe?

- Yes.

- Well, then, you know better than anyone

what we are talking about here.

- And the youngest is 17 and she is engaged to

one of the Montana brothers...

- Bravo, bravo! Superb.

Superb!

Oh, how avangard!

Simply superb.

- How dare you?

- How dare I?

How dare you, sir? Then you clearly don't know

who I am. I am Salvador Dal!

The saviour of modern art.

And this man is a genius.

He's a great poet.

Aren't we honoured, ladies and gentlemen?

Saviour of modern art and his friend,

great poet.

Recite something.

- No.

- Oh, yes, do.

- I'm sorry.

- I don't have anything.

- Go on.

- It's not suitable.

- Federico. F*** suitable.

- Well, come on then, great poet.

Sing for your supper.

Oh city of the gypsies

Who could see you and not remember you

City of musk and sorrow

City of cinnamon towers

Oh, city of the gypsies

Corners hung with flags

Put your green lights out

The Civil Guard is coming

The city, free of fear

Was multiplying doors

Forty Civil guardsmen

Pour through to sack and burn

Flight of long screams rose

from the weathercocks.

Sabre slashed the breezes

trampled under hoof

Through the half-lit streets

Old gypsy women

Flee

With their sleepy horses

And enormous jars of coins

Up the steep streets

climbed the sinister capes

Leaving behind them brief

whirlwinds of shears

Oh, city of the gypsies!

The Civil guardsmen ride away

Through a tunnel of silence

While the flames encircle you

- Let's get out of here, hm?

- Viva la revolucion!

- Federico, when I saw you at the dinner...

When you read your poem...

I saw what you really are.

You're... Raw.

Like some animal that's been skinned.

So, what's she like?

- Who?

- Magdalena, you know.

- No.

What?

- What about with other girls?

- Oh.

You mean...

- Yeah.

- Not with Magdalena, but back home...

- Really?

- Haven't you?

- I've had a few.

- All the institutions that prop up this corrupt

regime must be dismount!

- I just think it sounds a bit extreme.

- But it has to be extreme, Paco.

It has to be complete revolution!

All the churches, all the palaces!

- You know, when I was small...

There was this ruined tower near our house,

in Cadaques.

You'll see it when you come.

- I'm coming?

- Of course, with the holidays...

You must come.

I would sit in this tower and I draw,

draw and draw.

I never came down.

Just imagine this little shrimp of a child, half-starved,

covered in piss.

And I wouldn't come down in the winter, in the summer.

In the freezing cold, I'd fill this iron tub with water...

I'd sit in it for days.

It's even then I realized that if I'm going

to be anything more than...

... than average, if anyone is going to

remember me...

... then I need to go further in everything.

In art. In life.

And everything that they think is real - morality,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes