Of Love and Shadows

In 1973, my country, Chile,

was taken over by a military dictatorship...

which declared a permanent state of emergency.

A curfew was imposed, and for most,

especially the privileged,

there was also a self-imposed rule of silence.

A rule of see no, speak no, hear no evil...

so life could go on as before.

My mother took this to heart.

I was brought up in the safety of innocence at the Will of God Manor;

our family home turned old age home...

in order to survive financially after my father left many years ago.

- Rosa, my dog Cleo... and the old people; - Ahh, my little girl.

Don Quixote, the colonel, a man we call death himself,

and an old actress, Madame Josefina...

were my real family.

I was engaged to my cousin, Gustavo,

a captain in the army.

I worked at a fashion magazine.

My life was carefully guided by my mother...

who was determined to assure us a place in society...

which was either with the rich or with the military.

My life was safe...

Come on ! until I began to wake up.

Come !

Look ! Belgium laces,

French silk, Irish linen...

just arrived from Brazil.

- Brazil ? - I've asked Rosa to put all these in your room.

It's time for you to take care of him.

I'm never going to iron those things.

Uh, where are you going, may I ask ?

Out with some friends.

And if Gustavo calls ? He won't.

Captain Gustavo Morante.

- At your orders, sir. - About face.

Halt !

Present arms.

Wait.

Stop the car, sir.

He's from the Cardinal's human rights commission. It's all right.

There they are.

Maria Elena.

My brother.

Poor thing. She couldn't even live with herself.

With those military men, nobody's safe.

Well ? Thank you so much for coming, Doctor. I just--

I just can't.

Come on.

Tell me.

Go ahead.

They took us and threw us under the bottom of a car.

You and--

My husband, Juan.

They drove around for hours.

Kicked us,

threatened us.

I could only think of my little Gabrielle...

at home... by himself.

I just want to die.

- Why didn't I die ? - No, no.

No, you must live.

Be strong. You have to fight.

We were separated, and he said if I didn't cooperate,

my husband would pay.

In the next cell,

he put his hands...

all over me.

I could only think of my husband's life.

I didn't want... him to hear.

When he came back,

another voice.

More hands all over me...

[ Opens Lighter, Ignites Lighter ]

inside me.

I wanted to scream.

I didn't want my husband to hear.

They did it again and again.

Hey, let it go.

Let it go.

I'll see you next week.

God bless you.

Hi. May I help you ?

May I speak with Irene ? Excuse me ?

Irene Beltran. Irene ?

Yeah. This way. Poo-poo-poo-poo.

Blondes are the vogue this year.

I'm going to transfer to the social pages. It's safer.

Who's that ?

- Irene. - I'd fuck him.

Shh. Be quiet.

Francisco Leal ? Miss Beltran.

Irene.

Uh, I've read your articles and--

You're the photographer. Uh-huh.

I'm sorry I have to ask.

Are you on any lists ? No. I'm not on the blacklist.

Good. Then we can talk. Sure.

Let me show you... my work.

You hungry ? Hungry ?

Yeah. Come.

So, Francisco...

which of my pieces did you like the best ?

Well, uh--

"Super Hormones that Prevent Pregnancy."

You said something interesting in that ? I did ?

You said, "Conception is an act of rebellion."

Since '73, the magazine has to cover naked breasts with black patches,

and certain words are forbidden.

Such as ?

It's childish.

Abortion. Ass.

Freedom ?

Thank you. Thank you.

So, you're a psychologist ?

- Freudian ? - Freud.

Jung. Marx.

Marx ?

Did he write about psychology too ?

False consciousness.

He said that... "Shame is the only revolutionary emotion."

Are you sure you're not on the blacklist ?

My father is an anarchist,

retired in Spain.

Maybe... my brother Jose, the priest ?

Maybe... my oldest brother, Javier,

who's a teacher ?

Not me.

What made you-- Well, after '73, my kind of psychology also became taboo.

And unaffordable.

Listen...

I'm looking for a respectable job.

I don't want to end up photographing weddings and birthdays.

Pick me up at the Will of God Manor tomorrow. I'll give you an assignment.

Thank you.

No, no, no. You're out of work. Let me pay. Please.

My father taught us that courtesy never stood in the way of anarchy.

So.

I'll get it.

Francisco. Rosa ? This is Rosa.

- Come in. Come in. - What is this ? A madhouse ?

Well, it is the Will of God Manor.

- Mother, this is Doctor-- - Hello.

Francisco, this is my mother. Mother, this is my colleague, Dr. Leal.

Pleasure. Colleague ? Hmm. Doctor ?

Yes, but Francisco's a photographer now and we're on an assignment.

Mm-hmm. Irene.

You have a little something from Gustavo.

He'll be here for the weekend. I didn't open it. There was a note for me as well.

Captain Morante and Irene are engaged to be married quite soon.

Rosa !

A cricket born sings 'til its last morn.

She always speaks in that maddening way.

Now, she'll watch her soap operas all day and eat.

Pleasingly stout is what beauty's about.

Oh, where are you going today ?

We're going to Los Riscos to interview a saint. Uh-huh.

They say she works miracles. Ah. And what kind of, uh, miracles ?

She cures insomnia and hiccups, comforts brokenhearted, makes it rain and restores youth.

Hmm. When live saints do their best,

dead saints can rest.

I love it ! It's like a flying horse.

Who is Gustavo ? What ?

Your fiance.

My cousin. We've been engaged since childhood.

It doesn't sound serious.

My captain is very serious.

He's going to be a general someday.

When he grows up.

He's a man's man.

What's that ? I'll teach you his song.

No thanks. "I am the bridegroom of death;

"I have felt her cold breath,

but I hold her high as my banner."

It's a fascist song.

No. Yeah.

How do you know ?

My father.

Franco's fascists chased him out of Spain.

"Long live Death." It was their motto.

Well, Gustavo's not a fascist. He's not the bridegroom of death ?

No. No.

Is this where Evangelina Ranquileo lives ?

Yes, but the miracles are at noon.

That's the one. Hello.

- That's the saint ! - She doesn't look like a saint, Mother.

Saints were commonplace in the villages.

Not much of a story, but it would pass the censors.

She's the one who can solve your family's problem.

- Look at the city girl. - The girl is crazy, pure and simple !

And the miracles ? What miracles are you talking about ?

Don't believe that propaganda.

What the girl needs is a man ! There she is. Look.

Is that what a saint looks like ?

It's almost time. Twelve o'clock.

[ People Chattering Softly ]

It's okay.