The Tree of Blood (El árbol de la sangre)

THE TREE OF BLOOD

When did Amaia's parents die?

Two years ago.

This was Amaia's bedroom.

This place is alive!

I can't wait to start!

I'm ready.

Remember what we agreed. No politics.

Yes, no political ideologies.

I'll start. Brace yourself.

Summer 1991.

Nuria Bellmunt, my mother,

was at her family's house in Lloret de Mar,

on the Costa Brava,

when her parents, my grandparents,

were run over and killed.

My mother was told it was an accident.

She was left all alone,

with the house,

and a whole summer ahead of her.

Friends and relatives tried to comfort her,

but she went and fell for a Russian.

Dimitri wasn't Russian, he was a fucking Georgian.

The first time, she gave him what he wanted,

to get him off her.

But the second, she was confused and terrified.

She paid double.

The third time, she was incredibly lucky.

One morning, her father's driver and bodyguard appeared,

Olmo Mendoza.

I saw your parents get run over.

I was waiting in the car for them.

It was the Georgian mafia.

Pack your things, right now.

Grab everything you can.

Resync by AnYinK for 01NONTON release Google : 01NONTON

Where are you taking me?

Don't come back to the Costa Brava for at least ten years.

What about my house?

It'll be the HQ of a Georgian mafia boss.

I'll call the police.

If you do, they'll kill you.

What are you doing?

I want a swim.

She was all alone, with her parents' car.

She didn't know how to drive.

"She didn't know how to drive".

And your mother? Where was she then?

My mother was La Maca.

She was at the height of her musical success.

You offer me a trip through my loins.

Licking.

While I go to heaven, you keep exploring me.

The sex of the world, my sex.

I was conceived during her last album.

The sex of the world, my sex.

My biological father was a faceless stranger.

My mother remembers fucking him, but nothing else.

She was out of it on drugs at the time.

I almost died at birth.

They had to cut my chest open twice.

Now for my favourite character.

Hello.

Are you La Maca?

I'm a fan of your music.

Well, of you actually.

A big fan.

My mother saw in one look that she needed this man.

Víctor Mendoza was a godsend in our lives.

Enter my grandparents: Pío Santolaya and Candela López.

In their country house in Seville.

They accepted Víctor right away.

To my grandmother, he was an angel sent by God.

My grandfather treated him like the son he never had.

Let's go.

What is it?

Nothing.

It was as if her baby suddenly frightened her.

Shut up! Shut up!

Shut up!

No! Shut up!

Maca! Maca!

Maca!

It's OK.

Those voices are driving me crazy.

Those voices are driving me crazy!

They're driving me crazy!

My mother asked them to commit her.

You'll be fine, OK?

You'll be fine.

Víctor was left with me, like a single dad.

My grandfather paid him an allowance,

gave him a job in the company selling houses,

and even gave him one of them.

Let's talk about the children from Russia.

That's your subject.

With the intense bombing of Bilbao since January 1937,

the Basque Government has evacuated 20,000 children by sea to Europe.

In June, just days before the fall of Bilbao into rebel hands,

1,500 children were sent to Russia.

So many children will be raised as orphans in exile!

So many parents will mourn sending their children so far away!

That's Jacinto Mendoza. The girl is Julieta de Paula.

He fell in love with her the first time he heard her play.

This is her as a teenager playing a piece she wrote aged 12.

They were recruited by the KGB as children.

Both of them, as a couple.

Their sons, Víctor and Olmo,

also received tough military training.

And they liked it.

Víctor says it was a very happy time for the Mendozas.

After the Berlin Wall came down, Russia didn't need spies in Spain,

so Víctor and Olmo came to work in Lloret, my mother's town.

What about Jacinto and Julieta?

They moved two years later

to the coast, near Alicante.

They bought a villa on the seafront in Denia,

Julieta's hometown.

Even whispers aren't heard in the garden.

Everything has died down till morning.

If you only knew

how dear to me

are these Moscow nights.

We know little about Olmo at that time.

He stopped being a driver and bodyguard.

What else?

He was working as a gigolo.

For chicks with money. And he was worth it.

Olmo could make himself irresistible to any woman.

He had 300mg of testosterone per cubic centimetre of blood.

Twice the average amount.

- According to a blood test. - Really?

Yes.

And how much do you have?

What do you reckon?

Marc.

We've only just started.

I'M NOT DEAD AMAIA ZUGAZA

I remember my mum reading the manuscript.

Is this where you come in?

Yes.

I, Marc Bellmunt, could tell when she liked a manuscript.

It was by a young Basque writer, Amaia Zugaza.

There was Amaia already.

Knocking at your mum's door.

She wrote it here,

at that very desk. Her first novel.

- It won loads of prizes. - Too many.

It was overrated.

My mum fell in love like a teenager.

It only happened that one time.

I only found out much later.

Your mum loves doing it in water.

So do I.

I know.

Víctor is waiting for us.

Víctor couldn't get my mum to see me,

or even to leave the hospital to spend time with us.

The poor woman was unhinged.

It was a mixture of panic and shame.

And guilt, no?

For rejecting her daughter.

Víctor said she rejected herself as a mother.

Then, one evening, Víctor had a wonderful idea.

This is where you come in.

I already appeared as a baby.

But yes, here I was six.

I remember it well.

Rebeca, what is your mum most afraid of?

Of me?

No!

Of the voices, right?

How about you reach your mum through your voice?

When she realises it's your voice and only yours,

she'll keep listening.

What should I say?

Ask her to sing you to sleep.

Hello, Víctor.

Mum, it's Rebeca.

Rebeca.

- Is that your voice? - Yes, and that's yours.

- You have a beautiful voice. - So do you, Mummy.

Thank you.

- That's why I called. - Oh, really?

Will you sing to me?

Then I'll fall asleep to your song.

Your hands fall asleep.

Your eyes, which can still hear me,

close themselves to the world.

Rebeca,

Rebeca...

So that's what we did for several nights,

and Víctor also enjoyed my mum's voice.

Good night, my child.

She's fallen asleep.

VÍCTOR HUNG UP.

Víctor.

Víctor is so great!

Are we OK?

Yes.