Capitu (2008) s01e05 Episode Script

THE ARMS At the end of two years of marriage apart from the bother of not having a child, everything was going well.
I'd lost my father-in-law and Uncle Cosme wouldn't last long.
But my mother's health was good, and ours, excellent.
Like a bird freed from its cage.
The arms deserve a section.
The arms were fine ones, and the first evening they were displayed naked at a ball, I doubt they had a rival in town.
Not even yours, dear lady reader, being so young if indeed born.
After they married, Sancha and Capitu continued their friendship from school as did Escobar and I ours from the seminary.
They lived in Andaraí, where we'd sometimes dine on Sundays.
Seminarist! I didn't attend the third ball.
Seminarist! Sancha won't go either, or she'll go in long sleeves anything else would seem indecent.
Quite so.
But don't tell them the reason they'll call us seminarists.
But Sancha's arms are not so nice.
She gave in too quickly and didn't go to the ball.
She went to others, but covered them with lace which neither covered nor revealed them completely.
My only regret is not having had a son.
Stop it, man.
God will give you one one when he wishes and if he gives you none it is because he wants them for Himself.
Best let them remain in heaven.
A son, a child is the natural complement to life.
It will come, if necessary.
Escobar and his wife lived happily, and had a little girl.
I told you before, Capitu was economical, or I tell you now.
And not only with money, with the things she used the things They're pieces of my childhood.
TEN POUNDS STERLING -You're not listening to me, Capitu.
-Me? Of course I'm listening.
-What was I saying? -You were talking about Sirius.
Nonsense, Capitu.
I was talking about Sirius twenty minutes ago.
You were talking about Mars.
Indeed, it was Mars, but it was clear, she'd only grasped the sound of the word, not the meaning.
Capitu, realizing, became the most adorable of creatures.
She confessed she was preoccupied with a currency exchange something about pounds sterling.
-So what pounds are these? -Wait.
It was to be a surprise.
All this? It's not much, just what that miser of a wife of yours could save up in a few months.
- Who was the agent? - Your friend Escobar.
- How come he never mentioned it? - It was today.
-He's been here? -Just before you arrived.
I didn't say anything so you wouldn't be suspicious.
I felt like spending twice the amount on some gift to celebrate.
They're yours.
But Capitu stopped me.
-They're ours.
-You keep them.
When I told this to Sancha, she was alarmed: How is Capitu able to save up, everything is so expensive now? I know not, dear.
I know she acquired ten pounds.
-Maybe she'll learn too.
-I doubt it.
Sancha doesn't spend much, but neither can she save.
What I give her suffices, but that is all.
Capitu is an angel! If it wasn't for astronomy, I wouldn't have discovered Capitu's ten pounds so quickly.
Don't think it was a professor's vanity that made me suffer with Capitu's lack of attention and be jealous of the sea.
No, my friend.
I was jealous of what might be going on inside my wife's head, not around it or above it.
We know that someone's distractions may be guilty half guilty, a third, a fifth, a tenth guilty for as far as guilt is concerned the gradations are infinite.
My jealousy was intense, but short-lived.
In fact my friendship with Capitu grew, if that's possible.
She was even sweeter, the air gentler, the nights brighter and God even more Godly.
My affection for Escobar also grew in my heart.
Our visits became closer and our conversations more intimate.
Well, not even all this was able to quench my thirst for a son a sad son even, yellow and thin but a son, a son of my very own.
Well! A SON Where do you come from? Why I am so completely within you? What foolishness! The moments of greatest delight and mystery were when my son was breastfeeding, when I saw him sucking his mother's milk and the whole union of nature with nutrition and life of a being which was nothing, but which our destiny claimed would become.
I felt I know not how, and cannot say.
Doctor? Lawyer? Tradesman? I accept the hypothesis of him becoming a poet or perhaps a politician, who knows, he may turn out to be a great orator? And on we went Escobar doing his calculations, and me with my dreams.
I wanted Escobar to be the godfather, but Go on, ask for your godfather's blessing, old man! I won't give up! And quickly, he must be baptized before my illness takes me away forever.
I even tried delaying the ceremony to see if Uncle Cosme might succumb to his illness but it was just an annoyance, not deadly.
There was nothing for it but to take the boy to the font where he received the name Ezequiel.
Ezequiel, ego te baptizo in nomine patris Amen! AN ONLY SON Ezequiel, when the previous chapter began hadn't yet been conceived.
When it finished he was a Christian and a Catholic.
And this chapter is destined to bringing my Ezequiel to the age of five.
A handsome lad with his bright already restless eyes Look, papa, look! I see, son.
See the captain! See his horse! See the soldiers! Look at that one with the sword! Now, if you consider he was an only child there were no others, you can imagine how much we cared for him.
This I needn't mention, but there are such obtuse readers who understand nothing if one doesn't recount everything and all the rest And so, to all the rest.
I don't remember.
You don't remember that black man who sold candy in the afternoon? I remember the black man selling candy, but not his tune.
- Not even the words? - Not even the words.
The reader, who does still remember the words provided she was paying attention will be amazed at such forgetfulness.
I can't remember everything.
In São Paulo, as a student, I asked a music professor to transcribe the tune.
He did so with pleasure all I had to do was sing it from memory.
I kept the piece of paper.
Weep, little girl, weep For you haven't a cent.
Oh papa, give me a cent too.
THE IMITATIONS OF EZEQUIEL It's not from us, who like peace and quiet.
But when father was young he was like that, mother said so.
But he won't be a sissy.
I only know of one tiny fault: Ezequiel likes imitating other people.
Imitating, how? Imitating their gestures their habits, attitudes He imitates cousin Justina, he imitates José Dias I've noticed he even imitates Escobar's walk and his eyes.
I think he's just imitating for the fun of it with so many grown-ups around, copying other people's mannerisms.
-There's still time to correct him.
-Of course.
Weren't you also like that when you were angry with someone? A boy's revenge.
But I don't like imitations in the house.
And back in those days, did you like me? I regretted that no artist was present to transfer the gesture to a piece of marble.
Only the artist would shine, for sure.
When a person or a group turn out well no one wants to know about the model, but the work it's the work which remains.
No matter, we'd know it was us.
THIRD PARTY EMBARGOES Well? It's only natural that you ask whether having been so jealous before, I didn't continue to be so in spite of the son and the years.
Yes, sir, I did.
Capitu was everything and more besides.
I only recall going to the theater without Capitu twice.
And the first night of an opera which she didn't attend because she was ill but wanted me to go to anyway.
It was too late to give the box to Escobar.
So I did go, but returned after Act I.
Escobar? I came to speak to you.
I went to the theater, but returned, worried about Capitu who is ill.
What ails her? She was complaining about her head and her stomach.
Then I should go.
I came because of that business of the embargoes.
Something important has happened, and since I dined in town I didn't want to go home without telling you.
But we can talk later.
No, we'll talk now.
Go up.
She might be better.
If she's worse, come down.
Capitu was better.
My love! In fact, she was well.
She confessed she'd had just a slight headache but had exaggerated the ailment so that I'd go and enjoy myself.
She didn't seem very happy, and I suspected she was lying to put my mind at rest, but she swore it was the utter truth.
The sister-in-law is as sick as you or I.
DOUBT UPON DOUB There is one thing I lose sleep about.
I'm starting to think my mother is rather cold and aloof with you.
I've already told you, it's just natural for a mother-in-law.
Mummy's jealous of you.
Once it passes and her longing increases, she'll go back to what she was before missing her grandson.
But I've noticed that she is also cold to Ezequiel.
When he goes with me, mother isn't as playful with him.
Perhaps she's not been very well? Shall we dine with her tomorrow? Let'sno.
Mother hardly joined in the conversation.
But it was no different than usual.
José Dias spoke of marriage and homeopathy Uncle Cosme of his troubles cousin Justina of the neighborhood, or of José Dias whenever he left the room.
Nothing is wrong, nor could there be with all the endless praise I hear for "the lovely and virtuous Capitu.
" CLOSE FRIENDS So Escobar left Andaraí and bought a larger, better house in Flamengo.
A house I saw a few days ago when I had an impulse to see if my old feelings were dead or just slumbering.
The part of the beach between Glória and Flamengo was like a path to us.
Now our hearts couldn't have been closer.
Our wives were forever visiting each other.
What happened between me and Capitu could happen to them.
Anything could happen.
What was certain was they were very fond of each other, and could end up marrying.
But they didn't.
SANCHA'S HAND Everything comes to an end, dear reader, that's a great truth to which one might add that not everything which is lasting lasts very long.
Our castle was solid enough, but one Sunday I'd like you to dine here tomorrow.
I need to talk to you about a family project for the four of us.
For four? A square dance.
No.
You'll never guess what it is, and I won't say.
Come tomorrow.
What were you talking about? Some project or other.
Can you keep a secret? A trip to Europe two years from now.
- We're all going? - Yes.
The sea tomorrow will be a challenge.
-Will you go in the water tomorrow? -I've entered rougher seas much rougher.
You can't imagine what a good sea is like when it's rough.
You need to be a strong swimmer, like me and have these lungs and these arms.
Feel.
I touched his arms, as if they were Sancha's.
I hardly dare confess this, but I cannot suppress it that would be to amputate the truth: I didn't touch them with this in mind, but I felt something very different: I thought them broader and stronger than mine and I was envious.
And they knew how to swim.
Modesty required me to see in that gesture of Sancha's the approval of her husband's project and an acknowledgement.
But the particular surge which flowed through my whole body diverted me from the conclusion I record in writing.
It was an instant of dizziness and sin.
It was quickly over by the clock.
When I put my watch to my ear only minutes of virtue and reason were at work.
An utterly delightful lady.
I'm a disloyal friend! Disloyal! Who could say there was any other intention in that farewell gesture or previous ones? Everything could be linked to the interest in our trip.
Really, a fine night! As all nights should be at that house.
Sancha and Capitu were so close it would be an additional pleasure to go together.
If there was some sexual intention who could prove that it wasn't more than a fleeting sensation? No, not outside, the sea is angry.
Was it a whim, or what? At the end of 20 minutes it was nothing.
Listen! Disloyal! Disloyal! Disloyal! Moments belonging to the Devil alternated with minutes of God's and the clock marked my alternating damnation and salvation.
THE CATASTROPHE Come quickly! Come quickly! Sir is swimming, sir is dying! Sir is swimming, sir is dying! One of the slaves from Sancha's house was calling me.
I left a note for Capitu and hurried to Flamengo.
On the way I began to guess the truth.
Escobar went for a swim and risked going out a little further than usual, in spite of the rough sea.
He had been caught up and died.
THE FUNERAL Come on, it's time.
THE EULOGY You'll have attended more than one funeral.
But what you don't know, dear reader, is the crisis which overwhelmed me when I saw all eyes on me, and ears pricked.
No! Speak.
My voice seemed to enter rather than leave me.
All that I was forced to say I said badly.
At the same time, fearing they might guess the truth I tried hard to conceal it.
I think few listened, but Your eloquence rose to the sad occasion! I had just praised the virtues of the man who had in death, been gazed upon by those eyes.
PONDERING Don't do that! It's no use.
Get the ladies and take them home.
I have to pay a visit.
I left him talking to himself and started pondering.
What I pondered was so dark and confused that it prevented my mind from pondering properly.
I'd compared Sancha's gesture the night before to that day's despair.
They were irreconcilable.
The widow was such a tender, loving person.
Not Capitu's case at all.
I tried to recall her eyes, the position I saw her in and concluded, just to myself, that it was the old passion which still confused me, leading me astray as usual.
When I came to this conclusion, I also came to the front door but I turned around and walked back up Catete Street.
Was it the doubts afflicting me or the necessity to afflict Capitu with my delay? It was 8 o'clock when I returned.
The next day the papers arrived.
On Tuesday the will was opened.
Escobar left me nothing.
After a short time, Sancha went to relatives of hers in Paraná.
Dona Sancha, please do not read this book.
Or, if you have read this far, put aside the rest.
Just close it now.
Or better still, burn it so you aren't tempted to open it again.
But should you, in spite of this warning wish to continue to the end, it is your own fault I shall not answer for any distress on your part.
ONE DAY You've been so quiet and upset.
Why don't we go to Europe? My lawyer's position provided me well.
Business is bad.
- Son of Man! - What do you mean, son of man? -Just an expression from the Bible.
-Well I don't like such things.
Ezequiel was growing up.
You're right José Dias walks like this.
They're Escobar's eyes.
Not just his eyes, his features, his whole person continued to develop with time.
So Escobar gradually returned from the grave to take his seat at table beside me, receiving me on the stairs kissing me in the study in the morning or at night asking for the usual blessing.
What went on between us those somber days cannot be recorded here, being too small and repetitive and now it's so late, one couldn't do so without error or weariness.
I tell this part of my life as a seaman might tell of a shipwreck.
Everything smelled of the sea, the tides which brought death to my friend and wife's lover.
Escobar! Between us, all that was missing was that final word.
But we saw it in each other's eyes.
And whenever Ezequiel was around, our separation grew.
Capitu suggested we send him to boarding school.
Father, will you come and see me? Yes.
- You won't! - Yes I will.
- You promise? - I promise.
You didn't promise! I promise, I promise! AN IDEA One day, a Friday, I couldn't go on.
An idea which was lurking inside me opened its wings and started beating them, as ideas often do when they want to get out.
But probably the idea beat its wings for the simple reason that it felt itself coming to life.
Life is so lovely that even the idea of death needs first to pass through it, before being fulfilled.
You'll understand in the next chapter.
ON SATURDAY I bought a substance, I shall not say which so as not to awaken the desire to try it.
With death in my pocket! I'm going to my mother's house, in order to say good-bye just pay her a visit.
Bento, my son! Either by truth or illusion, everything seemed better.
My mother less sad, Uncle Cosme untroubled by his heart nor cousin Justina by her tongue.
I spent an hour in peace.
I even gave up the project.
What was necessary to live? Never again leave that house OTHELLO I dined out and that night went to the cinema.
Othello! I liked the coincidence.
I saw the Moor's wild rages because of a simple handkerchief! A handkerchief was enough to cause the Moor's jealousy and create the most sublime tragedy in this world.
The handkerchiefs have been lost.
Nowadays sheets are necessary.
The last act showed that it wasn't I who should die, but Capitu.
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo! I heard Desdemona's pleas her loving, pure words, and the Moor's rage.
And Desdemona was innocent! What would the audience do if she were guilty, like Capitu? What death would the Moor give her? The last letter, written to Capitu.
I felt the necessity to tell her something to make her remorseful of my death.
I didn't recall our past.
I only spoke of Escobar and the need to die.
THE CUP OF COFFEE The household was already awake.
It was time to do away with myself.
Wouldn't it be better to wait until Capitu went out with her son to mass? I'll drink it then, much better.
Father! Father! Father! SECOND IMPULSE Have you had breakfast, Ezequiel? Yes, father, I'm going to mass with mother.
Have some more coffee just half a cup.
I'll send for more.
Go on, drink! Father! I'm not your father! Father! Father! I'm not your father! -Father! Father! -No! CAPITU ENTERS Son, go outside.
- Explain yourself.
- There is nothing to explain.
There is everything.
I don't understand your tears nor Ezequiel's.
What went on between you? - Didn't you hear what I said? - I heard crying, mumbling.
-I'm not Ezequiel's father.
-What? -He's not my son! -Whatever gave you that idea? Tell me, tell me everything.
After what I've heard, I might as well hear the rest.
Go on, Bento, speak! Throw me out, but tell me everything first! Some things should not be said.
Should not be half said, but since you've said half, say the rest! Don't push me! No, Bento, either say the rest, so that I may defend myself if I am able, or I hereby request our separation.
I can't go on! Our separation has long been decided.
Better we do it through half words or in silence each enduring our pain.
But since you insist here is what I can tell you, everything.
Escobar! Not even the dead escape your jealousy! I know the reason for all this.
The chance similarity.
God's will can explain all.
You laugh? You laugh?! It's natural.
In spite of the seminary you don't believe in God, I do.
Enough! It's better we say no more.
Mother! Mother! THE PHOTOGRAPH It's time for mass.
There is nothing more to be said.
I rejected death and waited for Capitu to return.
But this took longer than usual.
I even feared she might have gone to my mother's house, but no.
RETURN FROM CHURCH I entrusted God with all my bitterness.
I heard from within that our separation is unavoidable and I'm at your service.
Was there somehow a new man inside me? One now emerging having been uncovered by new and stronger impressions? In which case I'd simply been covered up? I'll think about it.
We'll do whatever I decide.
For the rest of the day I recalled vague, remote episodes.
All the malice my blindness had concealed and where my old jealousy had failed me.
Now I remembered everything which now seemed nothing.
THE SOLUTION Here is what we did.
We grabbed ourselves and went to Europe.
We visited Switzerland.
A professor from Rio Grande who went with us, accompanied Capitu teaching Ezequiel German, the rest he'd learn in local schools.
With my life in order, I returned to Brazil.
After some months, Capitu started writing me letters to which I replied with brevity and dryly.
Hers were submissive, without hatred, sometimes affectionate and in the end heartfelt.
She asked me to go and see her.
I traveled a year later, but didn't go to see her and repeated the trip with the same result.
On my return, those who knew her wanted news which I gave them as if I had just been with her.
You'll be happy, Bento.
Of course the journeys were made to simulate this and trick the opinion of others.
José Dias didn't accompany me to Europe though not because it wasn't his wish.
He stayed to keep Uncle Cosme company, now almost an invalid and my mother, who was aging fast.
José Dias was also old, although still fit.
He'd came aboard to say good-bye, and the words he spoke the gestures of his handkerchief, him drying his own eyes also moved me.
The last time, José Dias didn't come aboard.
Come.
I can't.
Are you afraid? No, I can't.
Now, adieu, Bento I don't know if you'll see me again.
I think I'm going to another Europe the eternal one little Bento! Oh Bento! Bento! He didn't go straight away.
My mother departed first.
Look for a grave at the São João Batista cemetery without a name and with the single inscription: A Saint! A SAIN So she was a saint of a lady? Protonotary Cabral, if he were alive, would confirm what I say.
You knew Protonotary Cabral? Yes, I did.
He was a model priest.
A good canonist, a good Latinist, pious.
At home I always heard he was a great backgammon partner.
He threw great dice! Masterful! So you think? Since there's no other sense, nor could there be, it's admissible.
When we left, José Dias spoke ill of the priest.
He didn't know her.
If he did he'd have engraved: "Saintliest!" This wasn't José Dias's last superlative.
THE LAST SUPERLATIVE José Dias corresponded with Capitu and asked her to send a portrait of Ezequiel.
But Capitu kept putting it off, and he stopped asking for anything except that she talk to Ezequiel about the old friend of his father and grandfather "destined by heaven to love the same blood".
But death arrived before Ezequiel.
The illness was short.
I sent for a homeopathic doctor.
No, Bento, an allopath will do.
All schools have death.
And anyway, time has taken all youthful thoughts.
I'll convert to my parent's faith.
Allopathy is the Catholicism of medicine.
No, the air might be harmful.
What harm? Air is life, Bento.
The loveliest! THE RETURN This person's here? Yes sir, he's been waiting.
I didn't go immediately.
I left him waiting some 10 or 15 minutes.
Only now it occurs to me that I should have rushed eagerly to embrace him talk of his mother.
The mother, I don't think I've mentioned was dead and buried.
She lies in old Switzerland.
Father! Escobar! It was none other than my old companion from the seminary.
A little shorter, less rounded, the same face as my friend.
He was truly, the exact same Escobar.
He was my wife's lover.
He was his father's son.
Father, you're just like in your last pictures.
The voice was the same! I began interrogating him.
I was anxious to see you.
Mother spoke so much of you.
To speak less and therefore control my emotions.
She praised you so highly as the purest man in the world the one most worthy of being adored.
But my seminary colleague continued resurging from the grave, more and more.
She was lovely in death.
Let's have lunch.
Escobar also ate like that, his face buried in the plate.
He told me about life in Europe, his studies particularly archeology, which he was passionate about.
He spoke lovingly about antiquity, told me about Egypt and its thousands of centuries, without getting lost in numbers.
He had his father's head for arithmetic.
There was no choice but to have him stay; I became a true father.
Ezequiel spent a few months with me.
After 6 months, Ezequiel told me about a trip to Greece Egypt and Palestine, a scientific trip.
I promised some friends of mine.
Of what sex? Women are creatures subjected to fashion and the moon they'll never understand a ruin 30 centuries old.
One of the consequences of his father's furtive love affairs was my paying for his son's archeology.
I'd pay for him to become a leper.
Did you say something, father? There were no lepers, but there are diseases in every land be they old or new.
Eleven months later, Ezequiel died of typhoid fever.
He was buried just outside Jerusalem, where two friends from university placed a tomb with this inscription, taken from the prophet Ezekiel, in Greek: Thou wast perfect in thy ways.
They sent me the drawing of the grave, the bill for expenses and the rest of the money he'd been carrying.
I'd have paid thrice over, not to see him again.
I wanted to check the text, and found that it went on: Thou wast perfect in thy ways from the day that thou wast created.
I wonder which day Ezequiel was created? I received no answer.
One more mystery to go with all the others in this world.
In spite of all this I dined well and went to the theater.
I lived as best I could with no shortage of lady friends to console me.
Fleeting fancies, it is true.
They came, never to return.
I stood at the door, waiting, spying, looking at my watch and saw no one.
Then, if another visitor appeared I'd show her the landscapes, the historical or genre paintings and she too would tire and not return.
WELL, WHAT ELSE? Now, how come none of these fleeting fancies ever made me forget my heart's first love? Capitu.
Perhaps because none had Those undertow eyes, nor sly and deceiving gypsy ones.
Bento! Bento Santiago.
Come on, you rascal! Where have you been, Bento? END But this isn't really the rest of the book.
The rest is knowing whether the Capitu of Glória beach was within that of Matacavalos or whether one turned into the other because of some incident? Jesus, had he known of my initial jealousy, would tell me Chapter 9, Verse 1 : Be not jealous over the wife of thy bosom, and teach her not an evil lesson against thyself.
But I don't think so.
And you'll agree with me.
If you remember Capitu as a little girl you'll have to recognize that one in the other, like a fruit inside a shell.
And anyway, whatever the solution, one certainty remains it was destiny's wish that my first girlfriend and my greatest friend both so loving and so dear to me should end up together betraying me.
May the earth around them be light.
Now to the "History of the Suburbs".