The Embryo Hunts in Secret (胎児が密猟する時)

"Let the day perish wherein I was born!

Why did I not die in the womb?

Why did I not come forth

from the womb and expire?"

From The Old Testament, Job Chapter 3

THE EMBRYO HUNTS IN SECRET

Directed by KOJI WAKAMATSU

Rain, rain even harder!

Not here! - Let's go to my place.

Is this your apartment? It's empty!

Does it surprise you?

If I had such an apartment, I would furnish it.

Do all single men apartments look like this?

I don't always live here.

- Can I take a bath? - I'll turn on the boiler.

She's the living image of her,

she's identical.

You scared me!

The boiler might take a while to be ready.

What's your name? - Yuka

Cute name, isn't it?

She will wear the white dress too,

and will also want to make a baby soon.

Honey, I'm done bathing!

They're very much alike,

they're as like as two peas.

Does this turn you on?

Stop it.

With how many men have you gone so far?

Silly.

With how many men have you gone?

I always ask the first time,

with how many men have you gone?

I don't remember,

seven, eight...

Like this every time?

You're hurting me!

I've asked you if it was like this every time.

It depends...

sometimes.

Fuck! - No!

Easy.

Come on...

Faster.

Women always say so.

I hate you!

I've sobered up.

Here's your sleeping pill.

I have to be out by nine.

I'll wake you up.

Let's do eleven and a half, I can't be late anyway.

- You have a day off tomorrow, right? - No, I have a date.

You can tell me everything.

What?

Are you kidding?

Aren't we making love in this crummy apartment after all?

Did you come to the wedding with a clerk of my department store?

- No, with a customer. - You shouldn't date such bad lots.

That guy has a vicious look, just thinking about him makes me sick.

I know little about you.

What do you know?

What do you know about me?

I know that you are our manager Marukido.

That you're handsome.

I'd heard people talk about you and I liked you already.

I know that you don't like women,

that you prefer teens instead.

Come here.

How cute, you look just like her.

Do you lust for me?

I'll make love to you till you cry.

If you want to escape, you have to do it now.

Women like you make me sick!

You're just a snotty-nosed clerk,

you're filthy, and yet you parade as a lady.

I'll show you now that women like you are nothing but dogs.

There are things I can forgive and others I can't.

Turd brains like you can't tell the difference.

What does making love mean to you?

Do you understand at least what you do?

You work at the men's clothing department,

thus you know how to count pairs of socks,

you know if they're many or few, if they're pricey or cheap.

That's all you know,

if something's stylish, gaudy or sober.

Dogs are different, they know how to count only up to three.

If they litter four pups

and one of them's taken away,

they don't care because there's three of them left,

but if another is taken and there's only two left,

they get mad and despair.

Women like you are just like dogs,

they know how to count, yet can't tell the difference between one and two,

two less and it's over,

but if there's only one less, all is fine.

It's just like in the army once,

it was exciting to gather the troops,

lining them up from left to right.

In the National Unity system,

he who fell out could be left to die,

and there would be nothing wrong about it after all.

That's the rationalism embedded in your hearts.

But there's something irrational about it

haunting you from the day you were born:

this body is your greatest irrationality.

Because of this flesh, which is nothing but a shitbag,

you call flesh "Nature" and forget about the rest.

Am I wrong?

For women who can't discern their parents from their brothers,

who can't see flesh, love, piss, shit and humanity,

I have this whip of love I received from the gods almighty.

With my pure blood

I will bring together again your flesh and soul.

Look, this is your face.

It looks like you, doesn't it?

It's the mortuary mask of my wife, who ran away.

She left one year ago,

saying that she would give birth to her baby.

Don't you understand? I don't want you to have children.

Everybody make and raise kids, but I don't want.

This is why I had this operation so I couldn't procreate.

It would also be terrible for you

and above all for our child.

You've seen the medical certificate.

It is unnatural!

I wouldn't bear such a pain.

I want a baby all mine!

No.

Only one. - I said no!

Liar!

I went to the hospital.

The doctor explained me

that another operation

could revert your state and make you fertile again.

Idiot!

I want a baby, I mean it!

I said no!

You do as you please.

A baby all mine, only one.

One or two, it wouldn't matter.

Egoist. - Knock it off.

Whatever I do, you don't understand.

Shut up.

Then I...

I want to be a mother. - Cut it out.

I want to change its diapers, wash its clothes, breast-feed it.

Who are you?

Whose baby do you want to breed?

Making love to a man and growing a child, is that what you want?

I won't let you do that!

All right then.

I agree to let something grow in the warmth of your belly,

as those are moments of happiness.

The warmth of the mother's womb

is pure bliss, it is paradise.

But there's more to it,

too good a story if it ended all like that.

When a baby is born,

it comes out of her mother's womb into this world,

from one happy world to this hell, to this valley of tears.

Across

a dark and narrow way out into this world

full of wounds and blood.

It is hell, it's the true hellish sufferings.

And you think you could endure all that?

That woman was also like you,

she was a dog who knew nothing but numbers.

I can't forgive women like you.

Just like dogs, who only know how to count up to three,

you know nothing about yourselves

and you can't admit that giving birth is as divine as it is harrowing.

You just can't believe it.

You are smart, you should understand what I say.

I don't want to kill you.

I won't only wake up at 11:30, but every half-hour.

I will slowly train you.

I don't like cheap whores, I prefer nice girls,

girls of a shining purity.

What time is it? - Ten o'clock.

It hurts bad!

My God, what have you done?

Forget about it.

You did this to me and I should forget?

Don't get mad.

Of course you're the manager, but you've passed the limit.

Why did you do this to me?

I wanted you to learn some womanly manners.

This is awful!

Shut up!

- If you want to cry, do it quietly. - How can you cry quietly?

Does this make you feel better?

You kidding?

You're a sleazy woman, don't give yourself airs.

You're the butt of jokes at the department store.

No more pretense.

What do you mean by laughingstock?

Do they laugh at me?

I don't poke fun at you.

You've done worse than that.

You're not happy about it?