All About My Mother (Todo Sobre mi Madre)

I'm going to call.

TRANSPLANT COORDINATION

National Transplant Organization.

- Manuela, Ramón y Cajal Hospital. - Yes.

We've got a possible donor.

Give me the details.

Male, 35 years old.

Blood group?

"O" positive. Weight, about 150 pounds.

LIVER

LIVER RECIPIENTS

Not a single drop!

- With Dodoti Diapers... - Dodotis!

you won't feel a drop!

- Mom! - What?

The movie's starting.

I'm coming.

Eve Unveiled

They always change the title!

"All About Eve" should be "Todo Sobre Eva."

But that sounds odd.

What are you writing?

Nothing.

Future Pulitzer winners.

ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER

Eat up. You have to put on a few pounds.

Some day you may have to work the street to keep me.

You don't need pounds for that. You need a big dick.

Where did you learn to talk like that?

- You asked. - I was joking.

- And you? - What about me?

Would you prostitute yourself for me?

I've already done just about everything for you.

Eat up!

They're little beasts that run in packs like coyotes.

They're your fans.

They're nobody's fans.

They're juvenile delinquents, mental defectives.

Fans, indeed!

They never see a play or a movie. They're never indoors long enough.

Well, there's one indoors right now.

I brought her back to see you. Come in, Eve.

I thought you'd forgotten about me.

Not at all.

Margo, this is Eve Harrington.

- How do you do, my dear? - Hello.

Would you like to be an actress?

It was hard enough becoming a nurse.

If you were an actress, I'd write parts for you.

I was in an amateur group when I was young.

I wasn't bad.

I must have a picture somewhere.

I'd love to see it.

I'll look for it later.

Look, Esteban.

I found a picture.

We were doing a show based on texts by Boris Vian.

Cabaret for intellectuals.

Happy birthday!

- Already? - It's midnight, sweetheart.

"Music for Chameleons." How did you know I wanted it?

I know you like Capote.

Read me something, like when I was little.

"Preface.

I started writing when I was eight."

See? I'm not the only one.

"I didn't know that I had chained myself for life...

to a noble but merciless master.

When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip...

and the whip is intended only for self-flagellation."

That's enough to put you off writing.

Don't be so lame.

It's a wonderful preface.

How do you want to celebrate your birthday?

I'd like to see one of your seminars.

Why?

I'm writing a story about you for a competition.

And I'd like to see you act in those organ donation courses.

Well, I'd have to check with Mamen.

She's the psychologist in charge of the seminar.

Fine. Do it.

I don't think I like you writing about me.

Your husband is dead, ma'am.

That's impossible.

We just saw him in the ICU. He seemed to be breathing.

We've explained that, ma'am. A machine is breathing for him.

Would you like us to contact your family?

I don't have any family.

Just my son.

My God! How am I going to tell him?

When he was alive, did your husband say anything...

regarding organ donation?

Did he care about such matters?

When we was alive, he cared only about living.

But I presume he was concerned with the lives of others.

I don't understand.

What my colleague means is that your husband's organs...

could save other patients' lives.

But we need your authorization for that.

You could give him a transplant?

Not exactly. The other way around, actually.

Now we'll discuss what happened in the simulation.

Look when you cross the street!

- What were you thinking? - I had an idea.

An idea! Give him the tickets.

Why are you looking at me like that? Do I look awful?

No, you look better than ever.

Look, that must be the gentleman you were expecting.

You aren't Mr. Huntleigh!

Neither are you!

These fingernails will have to be trimmed.

The jacket, Doctor.

Ask her to let go of me!

Please!

Let her go.

Get up.

Lean on my arm...

Miss DuBois.

Thank you.

Whoever you are...

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

Come on, baby. The worst is over.

Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me again, bastard!

Watch your language!

Stella, come here.

I'm never coming back to this house.

Never!

I'd like to get Huma Rojo's autograph.

- In this weather? - What's that got to do with it?

What if nobody comes out?

Let's wait a while. It's my birthday.

Look, autumn's here already.

- So long. - See you tomorrow.

Nina Cruz really moved you, didn't she?

No, not her. Stella.

Twenty years ago, we did Streetcar with the drama group in my town.

I played Stella.

Your father was Kowalski.

Some day you'll have to tell me all about my father.

All I know is he died before I was born.

- It isn't an easy story to tell. - I guess not.

Or you'd have told me by now.

I nearly asked for that as a birthday present.

I'm not sure it would be a nice present.

You're wrong. It would be the best one.

Then I'll tell you everything when we get home.

Working in theater is worse than being a nun!

You think not being able to get stoned all day is being a nun!

Yeah, I do!

Alfonso XII Street, number 30.

Come on, forget about it!

My son!

Tomorrow I turn 17, but I look older.

Boys who live alone with their mothers have a special look...

more serious than normal, like an intellectual or a writer.

In my case that's normal, because I'm also a writer.

"Intensive Care Unit"

This is Lola, at Ramón y Cajal.

Yes?

We've got a possible donor. He's in the ICU.

They've done the first EEG...

but the mother hasn't given her consent yet.

Can I have the details?

I don't have them. It's Manuela's son.

The Manuela that I know? The coordinator?

Yes. He's dead. It's awful.

Unfortunately...

the result of the EEG is what we'd feared.

We have to make a decision immediately.

CONSENT BY NEXT OF KIN

OPERATING ROOM

HEART

It's from the hospital!

We have to go. We have to call.

- I'll do it. You calm down. - I am calm... but call them.

ALVEDRO AIRPORT, CORUÑA

REGIONAL HOSPITAL, CORUÑA

THREE WEEKS LATER

We're outside now, sweetheart.

We're out at last.

He looks great. Who'd have believed it?

He certainly didn't.

I feel I can breathe like before.

- Even better. - With an 18-year-old's heart!

- I'll fix you some apple fritters. - No, he has to be careful.

Last night, Mom showed me a picture of when she was young.

Half of it was missing.

I didn't want to tell her, but my life is missing that same half.

I was worried.

I thought you'd never call.

I called as soon as I got to Madrid.

I mean in Argentina.

I called you loads of times...

but I must have got your aunt's number wrong.

I wasn't in Argentina, Mamen. I went to Coruña.

Why did you go there?

I went after my son's heart.

Who told you? How did you know?

I looked in the files...

until I found the name and address of the transplant recipient.