Woman on Top Page #3

And, of course, to Brazil's own gift to us,

the extraordinary Isabella!

- Hear, hear! Bravo. | - Whatever.

You're gonna change my life.

Hey, taxi! Stop! Stop!

How could she? Squeezing her coconuts | for all the world to see.

Your girlfriend's a stripper, mon? | Mine, too. You get used to it.

There she is! Stop! Stop! Stop!

- Isabella! | - Oh, my God.

- Toninho! | - Yemanja be praised.

I need to speak to you... alone.

Izzy, I'll be right here.

- What happened to your face? | - What happened?

- I was defending your honor! | - My honor doesn't need defending.

Oh, no? I travel half the planet | searching for the Isabella I know and love.

And I find you on TV looking so...

You're looking...

You look beautiful.

Like when we first met | and I made you my wife.

Your skin tasted of salt, | and your hair held a scent of cinnamon.

And when you kissed me, | your lips burned with chili pepper.

It made my head spin.

Now here you are. | Come home with me where you belong.

I belong where I choose to be. | And I choose to be here.

Do you also choose to dress like this? | It's not proper, not in your condition.

- What condition is that? | - Married to me.

Funny. You don't act married.

For three years I've been lying | flat on my back for you. Three years!

Not to mention that | I never get to drive anywhere!

You know, I'm not some thing | that can be moved around like a puppet.

Fine. From now on | you can move wherever you like.

Isabella, I swear on my mother's grave, | you are the only woman I ever loved.

Your mother is still alive.

That's not the point. You can't leave me.

You're my wife.

Goodbye, Toninho.

On your mother's grave?

Honey, please!

Mon, dis not gonna be so easy.

Isabella? Are you there?

Madame Oliveira! Alberto.

- You remember me? | - Of course. Your show is the talk of the town.

It's an honor | to have you here in my restaurant.

- But not in your kitchen. | - Excuse me?

Jeanne Moreau.

- Jeanne Moreau? | - It will come back to you.

Certainly, madame.

- So what was that all about? | - Nothing.

- I'm being bad. | - You, bad?

That's hard for me to imagine.

Thank you.

You don't have to buy me flowers. | This is not a date.

- Is it? | - You thought it was a business dinner?

Yes.

Oh, well... no.

No?

I'm sorry.

I had a great time with you, and you have | been wonderful to me, but... I'm not ready yet.

Someday, maybe?

Someday.

That much butter could kill a guy.

That much woman could kill a guy!

Saut the banana slices, | add some brown sugar and let it melt.

Then a pinch of ground clove | and a generous amount of cinnamon.

Now we add a dash of "cachaca," | which will allow the sauce to caramelize.

And remember:
You have to cook | with your eyes and nose.

- Who's he and who are the men with guitars? | - This way you will learn to trust your senses.

- Let's cut! | - No! No, no, no. Let it roll.

Somebody get me some aspirin now.

- Hey, it's that guy. | - Oh, my God.

- Did they rehearse this? | - No, wait!

- You want him to keep singing? | - Yes. Just go and hover.

- Fine. | - Keep it moving.

OK, now we are going to transfer | the bananas onto a dessert plate.

Put the skillet back on the fire

and add a little bit of water to the glazing.

It's a spicy, fragrant dish | that I'm sure you will enjoy.

Thank you.

All right, just wait one second.

- And we're out. | - Are you out of your mind?

Of course I'm out of my mind. | You're avoiding me, ignoring me!

You're not letting me make it up to you. I'm | your husband! Doesn't that mean anything?

- This is the husband. | - He's cute.

Take him! Take him! Take him! | Come on, come on, this way.

Take him. You're outta here!

Settle down.

You can't arrest a man | for talking to his own wife.

Since when did singing become a crime?

We've gotta get this guy. Read this.

OK. "Isabella's bold, sensual dishes | bubbled to the pulse of their guitars."

- I can see it now. | - "A feast for the palate and for a girl's eyes."

- Good, huh? | - "Bolder than Julia Child,

- butcher than Ed McMahon"? | - Well, that's for Monica.

- So? | - I want Toninho and the troubadours back.

- Isabella hates him! | - You think so?

I know so. She told me.

- You believe her? | - Yes!

Look, Cliff, I'm not blind. | You like Isabella. That's fine.

But we're doing a cooking show, | and Toninho is the missing ingredient.

He may not be good for Isabella, | but he's perfect for ratings.

I'm telling you, Alex, | Isabella will never agree to it.

Well, that's why you're a producer.

No, OK, no! I won't do it! It's too much.

The public loves him. What can I do?

The public loves him, then he can | have his own show, but not with me.

I don't like it, you don't like it | and Monica doesn't like it.

But the truth is that | the two of you together... on screen, I mean,

have a certain chemistry | that the public adores.

And the ratings are going up so fast...

And the bottom line is | if Toninho's not in the show,

Alex says he will either | cancel the show... or replace you.

You know,

I think you're right.

- Let's see what happens. | - Great! I knew you'd understand.

Thank you. Great.

I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Hey, Tito Puente, you're outta here. | Thank God!

I'm Cliff Lloyd. I'm taking you to the station.

You're being offered a position | on Isabella's show.

- I knew she would send for me. | - Well, she didn't. The station manager did.

He's the one who wants you. She doesn't.

My friend, you have | a lot to learn about women.

Monica, what am I supposed to do | about this Toninho guy?

Oh, my God. I'm sorry.

What, honey? Never seen a girl | in her altogether, not all together before?

- No, no... I mean, yeah. | - OK, stop.

So, you got it bad for Isabella, huh?

Yeah, I guess I do. | I mean, what does she see in this guy?

Aside from the fact that he is gorgeous, | charming and sings like an angel...

No, honey, I am just kidding!

This is none of my business, | which makes me more interested,

but if you wanna make a move on Isabella, | you may wanna learn about Brazilian women.

Like... like what?

- Let me see your watch. | - OK.

Thanks.

TAG Heuer.

What the hell...!

If you wanna learn about Isabella, | you have to learn about Brazil.

- That's a $1,000 watch! | - Brazil is more than a country.

See, Brazil, it's a sensation. | It's a mood you can't describe.

You can't define it. | You can only feel it. OK? Try, try.

It starts in the south in Porto Alegre, see?

And it makes its way up to Recife, right?

It's the drums of Candombl, | it's the samba of "Carnaval,"

the tom-toms of the Yoruba.

You feel it in the soles of your feet, | up to your knees, to your...

All the way to your heart.

You forget the watch, OK?

You have the moon, | you have the tide, you have the stars.

Isabella is Brazil, and Brazil... is Isabella.

And if you want her, | don't try, don't plan or prepare.

Feel.

Feel.

Melons are like boyfriends. | Shall I tell you why?

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