Tabu
presents
in co-producntion with
a film by
TABU:
Under the rain and scorching sun,
a melancholic creature
treks through jungles
and arid lands for months.
In the heart of the black contlnent,
neither beasts nor cannibals
seem to frighten
then intrepid explorer.
Followed by a contingent of men
carrying beads fabrics
and modern
scientlfic exmpedition tools.
The group includes in its ranks
His Majesty the King of Portugal,
or at least his will,
as expressed in a royal decree,
and He who is above
who all creatures call Creator,
and whose voice lives in the Bible.
But even if his legs move forward
by superior will
sovereign or divine
the heart, the most insolent
muscle of all anatomy,
dictates other reasons for the march.
Poor miserable man!
This whimsical organ
rules over both King and the Eternal.
So we here by reveal
the true law of this expedition
to roam the ends of the world
walking away from the land where he saw
his beloved wife perish,
as if he could ever stop death.
Intrepid he is,
but out of desperation.
Taciturn and melancholic,
the sad flgure wannders desolately
over thne inhospitable planes.
And by mysteries unknown,
he is visited from afar by the one
whom his heart begs for,
wearing
- oh morbid detail! -
when she returned to dust.
You may run as far as you can,
for as long as you like,
but you will not escape your heart.
Then I will die.
You sad and poor soul.
A crocodile awaits its moment,
submerged in murky waters.
The intrepid explorer is well aware
he will meet his destiny in this river.
His men witness the horror.
The explorer bids farewell to life.
Night falls in the savannah,
as will a thousand and one more.
Then and ever since,
despite how absurd this may sound
to men of reason
some swear to have witnessed
this ghoulish sight:
a sad and melancholic crocodile
with a lady from days gone by,
an inseparable pair
united by a mysterious pact
never broken by death.
PART ONE.
A LOST PARADISE:
Let's go, Maya!
Hello.
Hi, Miss Aurora.
Yes.
All right.
OK.
Yes, Santa?
Miss Aurora called from the casino.
She has lost everything.
She has no money for the train.
Remember our conversation
a few months ago?
You told me
you wouldn't come back here.
My dear Pilar,
this time was different to the others.
Do you have any money left, Aurora?
No, dear. All gone.
So it was the same.
No, Pilar. It was different.
It was from a dream.
From a dream?
There were monkeys
with very hairy arms.
They were all fighting. Losts of them.
In the kitchen,
the living room, the bedroom...
All biting each other.
I even told them
to get out and be friends.
But all they wanted to do was bite.
What at nightmare!
I had to phone my daughter
to ask her to get me a lawyer.
And then I was somewhere else!
At the house of a friend
who died over ten years ago,
poor thing.
We were eating toast
with pumpkin jam delicious.
And one monkey could speak,
but sometimes
the monkey was her husband.
Thinking back,
her husband was a really hairy man.
you could see lots of hair.
Sometimes he was a monkey,
sometimes the husband.
I had to phone my daughter,
in case she came to visit
and saw only the biting monkeys.
To stop her from thinking
they had eaten me.
Then again... my daughter hardly
ever visits me anyway.
She can't, poor thing.
Especially now she's in Canada.
But you know what dreams are like.
We can't command them...
So the husband, or the monkey...
said he had made a fortune
on the machines at the casino,
in the old casino,
since the new one in rubbish.
The wife replied,
"Lucky at gambling, unlucky in love. "
And I thought she said that
because she was cheating on him.
She was dead,
so she was cheating on him
with the dead.
Even with some foreign celebrities.
and was very sad.
I took the train with him
because I felt sorry for him.
I told him there were
other dedicated and honest women.
Like Our Lady.
When the ticket inspector came,
the husband pretended to be a monkey
and hung from the things
that people hold on to.
I had no ticket
so the inspector took me to get one,
but the ticket machine
I felt anxious in front of it,
the collector would say a colour,
I would bet the opposite
and always win.
Until I thought
maybe he was telling the truth.
And I had to decide
if I bet what he said,
or the opposite, or take the money.
I woke up before the end
and decided I had to come here
to see if I was lucky
I am such a fool:
people's lives are not like dreams.
But if I hadn't come
I'd still he wondering...
Are you mad at me, Santa?
What a dismal day.
The forecast was rain.
Nonsense...
I won't eat all these prawns, Santa.
I'll be alone for dinner, after all.
The Polish girl isn't coming.
They're for you and Miss Aurora.
We've already had dinner.
They'll go to waste.
I've kept lots.
Thank you, Miss Pilar.
How I decided to travel the world:
I was born in York in 1632...
...to a good family.
After becoming a rich man,
my father retired from business
and settled down in this town.
He had married my mother...
It is thought...
...to be a hideout...
...of the Moors...
...of the Moors and Romans.
This here was a passage
to the castle of Torres Novas.
All I'm telling you
is not reality but tales.
Incidentally, there is no proof.
But if remains were found,
it could be true.
This way.
Someone asked if there are bats. Sure!
We can't see them
but we can check if they're here now.
For 23 years,
I performed my duty
respectfully and with care.
I buried 280 corpses.
Any others around,
and I'm ready to do my job.
Man, do you talk nothing but nonsense?
only strengthened
centuries-old Catholicism.
Centuries old?
Millennia, Pilar, millennia!
Rather more apostolic than Roman,
if you follow...
Not really.
Look, my dear,
losing your guest isn't that bad.
Damn Taizs!
All happily stuffing themselves
with "nata" cakes and smoking joints
after singing the psalms!
- How silly
Even the toughest Pole
would soften
at my dearest friend
Pilar's hospitality.
As for the carrot cake,
it won't go to waste.
"A slice is kept
for the one who will eat it".
I must admit,
all this climbing has made me hungry.
Not today,
I have to finish, my report
for the Peace and Justice committee.
I can't focus, I'm too worried
about my neighbour's crisis.
Sometimes I regret that
I haven't stepped on an African mine...
just to get your attention.
- You didn't even go to war.
Varices...
We've lost a soldier and won an artist.
I'm glad.
And your neighbour?
It makes me sorry
to see her all alone.
She must be having a breakdown.
She saw so little of her daughter
at Christmas.
She was in Portugal for 3 or 4 days
and had only minutes for her mother.
Left her a gift
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"Tabu" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 11 Jan. 2025. <https://www.scripts.com/script/tabu_19293>.
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