I'm Going Home (Je rentre à la maison)

I'M GOING HOME

PRODUCED BY Paulo Branco

DIRECTED BY Manoel de Oliveira

I won't have them!

Sit down, quick sit down.

I refuse.

I can't help but fall.

Take his sceptre, it's too heavy.

- Not that bonnet! - It's like a crown, but lighter.

- Leave me my sceptre. - You're too weak to hold it.

No good trying to lean on it, we'll carry you, wheel you.

- I want to keep it. - Then leave him his sceptre.

After all, I don't see why not.

Tell me it's not true, it's a nightmare.

There's a chance in ten, a chance in a thousand.

- I often used to win the lottery. - Your Majesty!

I can no longer hear you, I'm too scared.

- You must listen, Sire... - I won't hear you,

your words frighten me. I won't hear any more talk.

Don't come any nearer! You scare me with your pity.

He's like a small child. A little boy once more.

An ugly, bearded, wrinkled little boy!

- You're too lenient. - And if you were he.

- I want to flee. - He can barely stand.

It hurts to move my arms.

That means it's starting?

No.

Why was I born if not forever?!

Damn my parents!

What a farce! I came into the world five minutes ago.

- I got married three minutes ago. - 283 years ago.

I mounted the throne two and a half minutes ago.

277 years and three months ago.

Never had time to say knife! No time to get to know life.

He never even tried.

I never had the time!

Yet he had every expert to tell him about it.

Theologians, wise men, and books he never read.

I never had the time.

You used to say you'd endless time.

I never had the time! I never had the time!

He's repeating himself.

Always the same old story.

Seems better. Despite his moans and groans, he's begun to reason.

He's complaining, protesting, so he's begun to resign himself.

I'll never resign myself!

His saying he won't, is the very sign that he will.

He's posing the problem, raising the question.

Your Majesty,

you've made 280 war overtimes.

You have led your armies into two thousand battles.

First, on a white horse

with a very conspicuous red-and-white plume.

- You never knew fear. - No.

When you modernized your army, you would stand upon a tank

or on the wing of the lead fighter plane.

He was a hero.

You diced with death a thousand times.

Only diced with it, I knew it wasn't for me.

You were a hero, do you hear? Remember that.

Via this doctor and executioner, you assassinated...

Executed, not assassinated.

Execution, Majesty, not assassination.

I was only obeying orders, a mere instrument,

an executor, not an executioner.

It was all euthanasia to me. I'm sorry, forgive me.

You had my parents butchered, your own brothers,

our cousins and grandcousins,

their families, friends, livestock. You scorched their lands.

- Majesty said they'd all die one day. - It was for reasons of state.

As is your dying.

But I am the state!

What a state he's in, poor man!

He was the law, above the law.

I am the law no more.

He admits it, he's on the mend.

Makes life easier.

I'm not above the law anymore, not above the law.

The King is no longer above the law.

Poor old man, no longer above the law. He's just like us.

Like my own granddad!

Poor little chap, poor child.

Child!

A child?

A new-born babe!

I want to be a baby.

You can be my mother, then they'll not come for me.

I still don't know reading, writing, or arithmetic.

So I should be sent off to school with my pals.

- What's two plus two? - Two and two make four.

- You know that. - She answered for me.

Alas, one cannot cheat.

Alas, alas!

So many are being born right this minute.

Countless births all over the world.

- Not in this country. - The birth rate's down to zero.

Not a lettuce, not a grass that grows.

Utter sterility, because of you.

- Don't be so hard on him. - Perhaps all will regrow.

When he has accepted, when he's gone.

When I've gone?

They'll laugh themselves silly,

they'll stuff themselves, they'll dance on my grave!

As if I'd never been.

Oh, that they remember me!

That they weep and despair!

That my memory be perpetuated in all their history books.

That all may know my life by heart.

That they may all relive it.

Let schoolchildren and scholars

study nothing but me,

my kingdom, my exploits!

May all other books be burned...

and every statue be destroyed

that mine be set up in the public squares.

My photograph in every Ministry, in every office of every town hall,

in tax offices and hospitals.

That my name be given to planes,

to steamships,

to every car and pushcart!

May the memory of all other kings,

warriors, poets, tenors and philosophers

be replaced with the all pervading image of me.

A single Christian name,

a single surname for all.

Let them learn to read by spelling out my name:

B-E-B...

B-E-R-E-N-G-E-R!

May I appear on all the icons.

Let me be upon every statue,

in every church.

Let them say masses for me,

and may I be the host.

Let all windows that are lit

be the color and likeness of my eyes.

Let all rivers upon the plains

trace the profile of my face.

May they call my name

throughout eternity.

May they beg...

and implore me.

Perhaps you will return?

Perhaps I will return.

Let them preserve my body in some palace

on a throne.

May they bring me food, may musicians play for me,

may virgins grovel at my ice-cold feet.

He's raving, Madam.

His Majesty the King is raving.

Not yet, he's making too much sense.

Too much and not enough.

If such be your will, we will embalm your body, preserve it.

While we can.

Horror! I'll not be embalmed. A corpse is not for me.

I don't want to be burned, or buried,

nor thrown to vultures or wild beasts.

I want...

to be held in a warm embrace,

in cool, tender arms, in a firm embrace...

Hold yourself straight.

You don't need your stick, you don't have one.

Don't bend over, and whatever you do, don't fall!

Up, up you go!

Turn towards me, look at me.

Look right through me.

Gaze into my unreflecting mirror, stand straight.

Give me your legs. The right.

The left.

Give me a finger.

Give me two fingers.

Three, four, five...

all ten fingers.

Give me your arms. Your right arm.

Your left arm.

Your chest,

your two shoulders and your stomach.

You've lost the power of speech.

Your heart need not beat, no need to breathe.

Much ado about nothing, wasn't it?

You may take your place.

What's the matter?

- What is it? - A very sad event.

Come on, out with it!

Come, I'll tell you while you're changing.

So, tell us!

- An accident. - Is it serious?

Yes, very.

Who was involved?

Gilbert's wife, daughter and son-in-law.

- All three? - A car accident.

- And? - All we can do is wait.

Wait and see.

My God! How awful...

I think all three were already dead upon arrival.

He said all three were killed.

And his grandson, Serge? He'll be all alone!

No, he has his grandparents, and Guilhermine, she adores him.

But he's only a child, and motherless...

Some time later...

This is a most majestic vision, and charming harmony: