Kiss of the Spider Woman

Who is that?

None of your business.

I didn't know I'd be moved here.

The warden didn't say anything

about the political section.

Shut the fuck up.

Keep moving.

Hi.

My name is Luis Molina.

Serving an eight-year sentence.

Sexual offender.

Convicted of public indecency.

With a male. In a bathroom, no less.

I don't care what you did.

And you are?

Valentín Arregui.

Political prisoner?

- That's what they tell me. - Whatever.

I respect all ideas, as long as they respect mine.

I led a hunger strike last year.

They think I'm a bad influence.

Uh-uh-uh. This morning, I made a resolution

to only hear things that cheer me up,

and hunger strikes are not on the list.

- Do you mind if I cook? - Do what you want.

Just keep quiet.

I need silence to study.

Well, right now, there's nothing but tea and soup

because my mother's been too sick

to bring groceries or magazines.

These I know by heart.

I'm fine with the prison food.

Okay, but if you're turning down the soup because

- you have nothing to offer-- - Let-- Let me explain.

Sometimes I might not be reading,

but you'll see that I'm silent anyway.

That's because I'm thinking

and getting ready to make notes.

So no talking when you're reading,

and no talking when you're thinking.

Yeah.

Fine.

- Marquez. - Camazon.

- Rodríguez. - Zecchi.

- Molina. - Hasul.

- Arregui. - Dominguez.

Lopez.

I really should've done this sooner.

It makes all the difference.

When I was dressing the windows at Montoya's,

I couldn't rest until each display was perfect.

One mannequin wore a Chanel suit,

and I insisted a Balenciaga silk scarf

be slipped inside her purse.

"Well, nobody cares what's inside a mannequin's purse,"

my supervisor told me.

"I do," I said, arching one eyebrow,

like Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce.

And, darling, guess what?

Balenciaga it was!

What are you reading?

A biography of Lenin.

Oh. Well, that sounds fun.

"The struggle is not over until all men are free."

Who said it? Hmm?

I know. Cyd Charisse in Silk Stockings.

"The struggle is not over until all men are free."

Even ridiculous window dressers.

Stick to the script. Lenin didn't say "ridiculous".

Lenin didn't spend three days in a cell with you.

Oh, I heard how you radicals like to take advantage

of a girl down on her luck.

Guards! Guards!

He's talking about unions!

He's making me forget the joys of capitalism!

What do you want, Molina?

Nothing. I was just fooling around.

I know what someone like Molina wants.

Yeah, and you're not man enough to give it to me.

What? What did you say, you miserable little fucking--

Nothing. Nothing, I said nothing.

- You said something. - I said I'm a piece of shit.

- Louder. - I said I'm a piece of shit.

Finish it, maricón.

You're almost done.

I said I'm a faggot piece of shit,

and whenever you want me, my hungry ass is yours.

Maybe later, sweetheart.

Hear that, Arregui? Anytime you want her.

If a man called me a woman, I would kill him.

If a man called me a man, I would faint.

You are a man.

You shouldn't let them humiliate you like that.

Honey, there are privileges in degradation.

How do you think I got this beaded curtain?

Why do you make yourself trivial?

Because I am trivial.

Only, I know it.

You and your movement are trivial, only you don't.

Next to these gorgeous ladies, we're all trivial.

Next to them, we don't even exist.

Fuck off.

You're thinking, right?

About a girl?

I bet she's pretty.

What's her name?

That maricón better come through.

I find you can learn everything you need to know

about a person by asking one simple question:

"What's your favorite movie?"

- I don't have one. - Oh, come on.

Everyone has a favorite movie,

although they usually lie about it.

Personally, I don't trust anybody who says Raging Bull.

I mean, lighten up, Ramona.

It's been years since I went to the movies.

Well, don't you like to dream?

At least a little?

I dream with every breath I take,

but not in a way you would understand.

People like you think life is one big entertainment.

If I gave you the rest of a very good milk chocolate bar,

do you think you could stop saying,

"People like you?"

You're right. I'm sorry.

It's your last piece.

Eat it.

- No, thanks. - I can't decide.

Are you highly principled or just plain stubborn?

Maybe just highly stubborn.

Is that a glimmer of a sense of humor?

And I left my sunglasses in the Corniche.

I do have a woman, by the way.

I figured.

Just didn't want you to get any ideas.

You're not my type.

I'm looking for someone to settle down with,

not storm the barricades.

Well, unlike you, I couldn't live without movies.

After my father died,

my mother had to work nights as an usherette.

And since there was no one to look after me,

she took me with her and sat me in the front row.

I saw every movie over and over.

One of them, I'll never forget.

Kiss of the Spider Woman.

Never heard of it.

It's set in a mythical South American country,

part Argentina, part Brazil, and 100% Hollywood.

It starred the great Ingrid Luna,

known to those who worship her as simply La Luna.

Spider Woman was the first time

a vehicle was created especially for her.

Now, understand, nobody claims

it was the greatest movie ever made.

Too ambitious for its own good,

too many flavors in the stew,

but so much that's beautiful.

Would you like to see it?

How do you propose we do that?

The best way.

I'll tell it to you.

Unless you have somewhere else to be.

Uh-uh-uh. Too much reading will make you go blind.

You said so yourself.

Besides, it's lights out any minute now.

What kind of movie is it?

A musical, of course.

And if I have to explain the "of course,"

I might as well just end it all right now.

I hate musicals.

And I pity you.

I'm sorry to break the news,

but nobody sings in real life.

Well, maybe they should.

Now shut up and listen.

There go the lights. The curtain opens.

It's in glorious technicolor.

They drenched the screen with extra reds

and golds for this one.

It almost hurts to look at it.

Wait. You throw us right in.

We know nothing about the story or the characters.

Well, it's a musical. There's not a lot to know.

But you're right.

I got so excited, I skipped over the opening crawl,

which establishes that Aurora

is the successful editor of Charm,

South America's most famous fashion magazine.

It's the way she sits that kills me every time.

The perfect fullness of her figure.

Tiny waist and rounded hips.

Her legs flushed and silky, even without stockings.

Please. No erotic descriptions.

And now, wrapped in the simplest sort of silk robe...

the goddess moves into the bedroom.

Kendall, you're late.

I need you to help me choose a dress for the gala.

Kendall Nesbit is Aurora's executive assistant

and best friend.