Oregano: The Failure Family (Orégano: La familia fracaso)

Argentinian humor is ambiguous, dubious, dark, heretical,

parodical, even absolutely comical,

but it always contains some sarcastic tinge of cruelty.

Maybe that's what gets confused with the "Argentinian sorrow."

Because the opposite of sorrow is joy,

and Argentinian humor is never joyful.

Yes, Mom.

I'm gonna tell you what I've kept inside for so long.

Today's the big day.

You're a bitch, Mom.

You ruined our lives!

You ruined my life and Biggie's, Mom.

I'm 35 and what have I done?

What have I done with my life, Mom?

Nothing!

That's the answer, Mom. Nothing!

The Beatles had sold 200 million records at my age, Mom!

I'm 35 years old!

Or am I 25?

Tell me the truth, Mom.

Am I 35 or 25?

Tell me the truth for once in your life.

You monster!

You ruined us!

Me and Biggie.

Biggie…

Twenty-eight years old…

Unemployed…

He was a rising star of football, Mom.

Why did you send him to artistic roller skating lessons?

Look at Dad…

Dad's a nobody.

Former butcher.

Or unemployed butcher. I'm not sure which one it is.

We're a failure.

The Failure Family.

PEOPLE SUPPORT HIM

SHAME!

EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED

EVERYTHING THAT'S COMING

PRESIDENT OF ALL ARGENTINES

WORLD CUP '78

ARE THEY SAFE?

FOR THOSE WHO GO FROM SPECTATORS TO PROTAGONISTS

THE FAILURE FAMILY

Can't you see no one comes here anymore?

How long has it been since anyone even asked us anything?

Biggie says we're isolated.

The only one in here having a good time is you, Mom.

You, Mom.

Fifty-three years old.

Housewife.

Piercing stare.

Housewife…

Or should I say parasite, Mom?

Housewife or insatiable queen?

Housewife or slut?

I'm not afraid of you anymore, Mom.

You're all for show.

You're a blow-up doll.

Watch out for sunlight because it can melt plastic,

you old fucking hag!

You dirty old hag!

You old fucking tramp!

What's up with you, filthy bitch?

You better wash your mouth and your ass before you speak about your mother!

- I'm sorry, Mom. - "I'm sorry"?

You just say "I'm sorry" after hurting me like you just did?

After humiliating me?

Tell me, Romina…

Do you want me to shoot you?

- No! - Answer me!

- No! - Do you want me to shoot you?

Do you want the bullet to enter your skull

and, unable to exit, it starts going around and around

destroying everything in its path?

And you're left paraplegic…

Or worse: Gone.

Dead just like your grandma.

May she rest in peace.

- Is that what you want, Romina? - No.

I swear I don't, Mom.

So then why…

Why are you messing with me?

Why are you like this with me?

What's your problem with me?

You're trying to compete against me.

But is your jealousy really directed at me?

That's it.

It's jealousy.

Jealous of me and jealous for me.

Come on, little cunt. Speak up. Let me help you.

You won't let anyone help you.

Come on, who do you think you are?

Are you a defender of those humiliated and offended?

You think you're like Eva Peron?

You know very well I respect Evita.

And that, without her, Peronism wouldn't have ever reached

the historical significance it had.

I do respect Evita.

But not Peron. You know that very well.

But to think that because of that I would be afraid of you

because you fancy yourself Evita, that's a reach, sweetie.

The difference is like comparing monkeys and men.

And to try pinning your brother against me, that's low.

Come on, tell me.

Whose life did I ruin?

Answer me!

Biggie.

Biggie.

Biggie.

What's up, Mom?

Come out. Mommy wants to ask you a question.

Did I ruin your life, Biggie? Answer me, did I ruin your life?

- Did you hear, Romina? - Yes, Mom. Thank you.

Your brother is a difficult matter.

You oversimplify it because you're a cunt

but it's a difficult matter.

He just got mixed up differentiating things.

You understand?

What is a subject?

It's a difficult task for a toddler

to understand the difference between subject and object.

But the baby does something to achieve it.

He's not born knowing he is himself and the world is the world.

The difference in the definition of subject and object

comes from labor.

And your brother has always been a lazy bum.

A lazy Biggie.

What do you want for dinner?

Anything, Mom.

Anything is not an answer, Biggie.

Do you want some baked chicken?

Yes!

With potatoes and oregano?

Yes!

Biggie, what was your friend's name?

Albertito?

That one, Albertito! Is he coming for dinner today?

No… Yes… I… don't know. Yeah, why?

Just to know how many people I'm cooking for.

Albertito…

Come on.

Dad.

Daddy.

Dad.

Daddy.

Dad.

Dad.

I have declared martial law across the entire nation.

Stick martial law up your ass.

You can withdraw up to 250 pesos per week.

Several supermarkets were ransacked.

We heard the uproar

coming from the butcher's shop next to the supermarket.

What did you take, sir?

Meat and food, because I don't have anything to eat.

The peso is not and will not be devalued.

Do you accept patacones?

…resignation of President Fernando De La Rua.

Dad.

Dad.

Daddy. Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad. Dad. Daddy. Daddy.

Dad.

There's a chance I might be moving five blocks away.

Stop getting on my nerves, Biggie.

- What happens, Dad, is that I want… - Fuck off!

Dad won't listen to me.

Dad doesn't love me. Dad won't listen to me.

Why do you insist on talking to him when he's gloomy?

Because it's important.

- It's my life. - Your life, your life.

Everyone here thinks only their stuff matters.

What's important is something else. The unanswered questions.

Which questions?

"Which questions?" The ones in this house, Biggie.

This house is full of unanswered questions.

Like what?

Like what?

You're so naive, Biggie. You've always been such a…

- Pussy. - No!

There comes a time when one has to face the truth.

- What truth? - "What truth?"

The whole truth, Biggie. All of it. The absolute truth.

Facing the unanswered questions once and for all.

Give me an example.

For example,

if you're my dad and I'm your daughter, then why are we the same age?

Turn down the music, Alicia.

What music, Butcher?

The music, any music, all the music, Alicia.

All music sucks.

Jazz people think they discovered something.

For fuck's sake! Scales, scales, scales.

It's like trying to see who can keep their head underwater longer.

Fake improvisers!

Tightrope walkers with a rope 50 cm from the ground and double net!