Τα Κουρέλια Τραγουδάνε Ακόμα/The Wretches Are Still Singing

I always told him that he couldn't go on living like that.
There were many bills unpaid.
So we reached the current point.
The last two years that we lived together
we only talked in signs.
I understood that the death of some Kostas had hurt him.
And somebody else's from the old company.
George Swing, if you knew him.
All right.
I'll be there too.
But give me some time because it's not easy to get out of here.
Occasionally, I'd feel sorry for him.
I'd get him a chick...
But he would laugh.
"In my generation", he'd say...
"In order to love women
"They should have some death specifications. "
"Those hens that you bring,
what are their specifications?"
To be honest...
I expected that it would end like that.
Yes?
You wretch!
Are you still you?
It all began on Christmas eve, '78.
I woke up feeling useless,
something I was used to and couldn't impress me anymore.
One dull day would come after the other
and nothing showed that
things would get better.
I often say that I shouldn't have complaints from life.
After all, I chose to be what I am.
My wife left me three years ago
and gave me the house on the condition never to annoy her.
Since then she sends me some money and a letter swearing at me
and blaming me for the failure of our marriage.
I know I can see her as well as the children.
Maybe someday this will happen.
For the time being, I have two serious problems.
First,
Dimitris is coming in a while,
the last of the gang and always late.
He'll knock and there won't be anyone in the house.
Second,
I have to hide Vera's body somewhere.
I spent yesterday evening and noon
draging her here and there
until I could find a decent hiding place for her.
Eventually I left her in the living room.
Athens
September, 1956
12 in the morning.
The cops...
storm Maksimou.
Inside, 500 punks wearing blue-jeans.
On the screen, Bill Haley with his Comets.
Elvis Presley.
Little Richard.
Fats Domino.
Johnny Ray with the "little white cloud that was crying".
On the square, the punks are dancing.
they smoke, kiss, tear seats.
The cops are staring.
They leave and call the fire brigade.
We shut the doors and put broken seats behind them.
It's always raining and I have to keep the pit clean.
I am 16 years old and everything is nice.
That doesn't mean that I don't know what he has in store for me.
Marjorie Morningstar
The Lady from Shanghai.
Mara Maroon.
Laura.
The firemen are breaking the doors with axes.
Then I see Vera for the first time.
She is standing on a column, wearing a grey raincoat and smoking.
The fire hoses throw out water.
Vera grabs my hand and takes me to the fire escape.
I can barely see
We run along with others at Panepistimiou str.
There's a demonstration.
We mix.
Tear gases.
Sirens.
They grab us,
they seperate us and throw us in the cages.
A week goes and I'm still looking for her.
Green Park, Top Hat, Blue Fox.
Nobody knows her.
At that night I went out.
I knew what I was looking for.
But I hoped that luck wouldn't help me find it.
Now I have Abott and Costello to keep me company.
the Invisible Man
and the amazing Rita Hayworth sitting next to me.
And that's my right, all right?
I mean, that after you start losing your mind
nothing is impossible anymore.
After all, I don't think there was one guy that wouldn't like to fuck Rita Hayworth.
So you think?
Buddy, I'm crazy.
And you're finally in peace, far from everyone.
And what ever happened to the others?
You ask here and there, and everybody's gone.
And those left live in caves under the earth.
And you can't find them.
Don't scream.
There's no one here.
Get inside, quickly!
In!
Don't!
Get in!
Get to the back.
Move it!
I didn't tell you, but if you sit tight nothing's gonna happen to you.
But if you keep doing this stuff...
you won't get out alive.
Attagirl.
How old are you?
20.
Nice years.
Shall we play a game?
Where are we going?
For a long walk.
Fats Domino is waiting for us.
- You know him? - No.
You'll meet him. One of ours.
Why don't you let me go?
I have money.
Is that so?
- Do you like it here? - I don't know.
What's here?
My house.
Listen...
If you have in mind what I have...
you should know that I really want it.
All right?
- I want to ask you something first. - Anything you want.
Touch me here.
Do you remeber that morning at Maksimou?
September '55.
Neil Sedaka, Julie London.
Things like that.
What happened then?
- Was I there as well? - Yes.
And then we got out and they seperated us.
And I never saw you again.
I looked everywhere.
At Top Hats, Blue Fox, Green Park.
I couldn't find you anywhere.
You must think I'm someone else.
I wasn't even born at that time.
But look...
If you want to play.
It's fine with me.
Well... what happened?
- When? - At Maksimou.
Have you heard anything about us?
We might have benn on the papers.
We roam through the streets
and grab girls like you.
Haven't you read anything?
You're lying.
No such things happen today.
- You haven't heard anything? - Anything.
- And now what? - Nothing. We talk.
Why don't you come back?
It seems I am the only one, right?
But you must have heard of Kostas and George Swing.
Nothing?
I think I should tell you a thing or two.
You've got a few minutes left.
Supposing I let you go.
Not that something like that is going to happen.
But let's just suppose.
Do you want me to tell you what you're going to do?
Do you?
You will run in the street
get to the first patrol car and get them all in here.
That's what you're going to do.
Hello, wretch.
Who's that?
You haven't changed at all, you know.
If you'd put out the light
I could also tell if you have changed or not.
Talk quickly about the scene.
You first.
Ruby Gentry.
Jennifer Jones.
Come in, wretch.
It's nice here.
What about that?
I hope you won't turn out to be an intellectual...
Because I am, you know...
quite reactionary these days.
With a style like...
What's going on, my friend? Times are tough, right?
The lady is sure a corpse.
Couldn't be more dead.
The case needs a cigar...
always in a silver case.
What kind of a joke is this?
- It's not a joke. - That's what I'm saying.
After all these years I expected our reunion
in a different mood.
It doesn't matter; this will happen as well.
Well, it should, because...
What about the cellophane package?
- To dry the blood. - Her being fresh, etc. Right.
I heard that you got married.
I'm trying to keep calm, as you see.
- Is this your wife? - No. It's Vera.
- And Vera is...? - A very old story.
A velvet suit I see.
Comfortable.
Still, there's some coldness in the air.
Cellophane, other things...
Don't pay attention.
Anyway, we'll bury her.
- Vera? - Yes.
One of them.
You said "we" will bury her.
That means I'm in it too?
I don't know.
- You should have warned me. - What for?
For all these.
And if I had told you about it, would you come?
- You should have tried. - I'm trying now.
Now it's too late my friend.
Vera died because she knew too much, right?
Like this, in a rave of lovesickness and all those?
Actually, she knew very little.
Something like that. What about you?
You mean work and hapiness, social recognition
bank deposits, blonde lovers and such things?
What a break...
Nothing, thank God.
Here and there.
I don't have to answer for anyone...
and no-one depend one me.
Proffession, please?
Always the same; Illusionist from Oddessa.
Do people drink here?
- Are you staying? - It depend's on where it's going.
If you go, will you squeal on me?
It's not necessary.
Are we expecting anybody else?
- I found Rita. - Is that wretch still alive?
Yes, but I learnt that if you light a match close to her
she will catch fire.
- Alcohol? - Neat.
Are you a magician?
- Rita is nice however. - A doll.
Cheers.
Does she know anything?
- No. - And?
Hristos is coming as well.
- Hristos or Hristos? - Hristos.
I couldn't find anyone else.
But I managed to send a message to Dimitris.
Is he in again?
Yeah, but he gets out.
Well... I think everything was spoilt when...
- When? - When that cretin Perry Como sang Glendora.
Listen and learn, corpse.
- Top Hats '56-'57, right? - Around then.
- It's raining outside. - See what I brought you?
I can see. Flowers.
Kiss?
Sit tight till I tell you.
- I didn't succeed, right? - Exactly.
Should I take it off?
So whatever you like.
That you bought a raincoat like hers
dyed your hair and changed your name means nothing.
I told you not to meddle.
Funny thing is that at the beginning
I wouldn't accept to live under that Vera's shadow
if that's her name.
And now, I buy a coat like hers.
I'm just trying to help you.
Come to terms with yourself and leave me.
Don't worry, I have; A dead Vera is always a good Vera.
Hey, son of a bitch,
could the bot of us have a night discussion?
About what?
Forget it... It's still early.
What's funny about this house is that everything seems in place.
Are you certain we're alone?
Do you know what Rita did?
Of course not... So listen.
Sintagma, 1970.
Rita shows up as Nibelugen.
She goes to some guy feeding pigeons
And tells him in a quite serious manner...
"I'm gonna eat you"
The guy doesn't believe her and laughs.
A bit awkwardly though, as Rita had
black circles around her eyes,
black lips and nails strange hair etc.
and while he's chuckling, Rita starts chewing him.
Despite these, you have to tell me how it all began.
It all started when that cretin Perry Como sang Glendora.
We're strangers in this town.
Strangers we are in this town.
We got old in this town.
- It's what we call... - We are strangers.
Let me tell you how you dance this song.
Coat, white susshil.
Short striped trousers.
Two-sole shoes.
Pink shirt, turquoise necktie.
- Crew cut hair. Good, huh? - Wretch.
He was here for two days
but he never spoke about himself.
In the last 15 years I heard many strange things about him.
Some stories about him shooting drugs in America.
Something like that.
What I liked is that he didn't ask useless questions.
Maybe he agrees with me.
So I think
to take him for a ride with the car tonight.
If Rita comes, fine.
Hristos too. Why not?
The gang will strike back.
Who would have thought that?
Nothing important. Why don't we give up?
He died, right?
Why won't you tell me?
He actually killed himeslf.
He didn't "die" in general.
You really want to know?
It was a warm and poetic day
the sky light blue
and Ceasarion, Costas in our story
thought himself as a bird, opened the window
and flew to the asphalt. That's how it happened.
What about George Swing?
George Swing...
Yeah...
George...
He was killed at Igloo's
Fokionos str.
How? Look at me.
A bulb got burnt out
George took a chair and got up
but he can't reach it.
He then takes a table
puts the chair on it
climbs the table
and the chair afterwards
and he can now reach the bulb.
While George's unscrewing the bulb
loses his balance
and falls down.
The chair and the table go with him.
He gets up but he's in pain.
A great pain.
Why so?
Because the chair's foot is in his stomach.
All the way.
What does that say to you?
I used to think that Vera could save me from all this.
Remember when I'd tell you that life needs two?
Vera didn't come.
I think she's never coming.
Vera that never comes, right?
Usual problem of the 50s and the 60s.
Along with blennorrhagia and some guilt from Hiroshima.
You wretch...
Of course, you know when all these began?
Since that cretin Perry Como sang "Glendora", right?
Wake up! Someone's coming!
Get ready to die!
All well, wretch?
Rita?
A bit alcoholic, eh?
A bit bald, eh?
Mean?
Regular... and pretty.
Remember what we used to say?
What?
We'd say... "See you later, crocodile".
- Right... Walking in the rain. - Exactly.
- Shall we go? - Yes.
Where to?
- Out. - Really out?
I've got a problem. I'm a runaway.
Where from?
In general I'm a runaway.
So, not many lights and people.
- Nice - Nice what?
- The bat and the werewolf. - In new adventures?
- Whatever we hit. - Bats and night butterflies?
Of course not, these are for sick people.
Alkis...
come closer.
Do you know I almost ate a man once?
- Yeah, I found out. - Who told you?
Konstantinos.
At a squre, he told me.
Yes... The asshole was feeding some pigeons.
So I told hime. But he wouldn't believe me.
He started laughing. So I started chewing him.
Normally and wonderfully?
It had to happen, you see.
They came and took me.
- The cops? - No.
The others. Nuthouse etc.
The "White System".
White rooms and sterilized little doctors.
I told them jokes with crazies
What are we doing outside?
These days I'm into rape-murder.
The only rape-murder I've seen is my own.
- You're exaggerating. - Ridiculous symblosim, right?
Friends?
What else?
Do you remember a New Year's Day party that we danced at Green Park?
I loved you a lot then but you didn't know it.
So... what's up?
Where are the others?
Are all the wretches fine?
Am I in the wrong house?
That's it.
Hristos, an old one. From the first wretches.
Vera.
- Is that soil? - I'm sorry.
I'm soaked.
Vera.
Hello.
- You... are here? - Something like that.
Currently I'm in the garden. In a hole.
It keeps raining and the hole must be emptied.
That's why my hands are dirty.
I can see that. You're a little battered.
But in the morning we put a canvas on it and it's better
Definitely... a canvas is useful
Especially when it's alwats raining.
Tell me, as you happen to know,
are we alone in this house or do we have company?
Just asking.
There's somebody sleeping in the room... That way.
That's something. Anybody else?
Some Rita came
and she took hime outside.
But they'll be back.
You know...
The last couple of years that we were together we talked only in signs.
He was hurt by the death of two of his friends.
- If you happen to know. - Yes...
I know who're you talking about.
- It's not my fault. - Of course not.
It is so.
Don't you wear anything inside?
No.
Some breasts, eh?
Look carefully: Vienna, just before the war.
Karlsplatz. I appear from the dark, as the Third Man.
Harry. Harry Lime.
What a look, eh?
I want a favour.
Take care of him.
Alright, fatso?
I know... We only talk in signs here, right?
Vera. Don't forget me.
Listen to me. Put the kids to bed and don't expect me.
I'm having dramatic moments in an empty house with crazy women.
I may never come back. Here we talk only in signs. Get it?
You didn't get it.
Is there a cigar?
Always a freeloader, right?
What's up?
Do you fancy a mystery, low lights
the stranger looking at you sleeping
Harry. Harry Lime.
Nice to meet you, of course.
But it doesn't ring any bells.
What about Jim Blecker?
- Proffesion, please? - As always. Illusionist from Odessa.
You wretch...
What did you turn into?
A successful disguise, right?
Because...
Captain Jimmy's sea rover
the one you're leaving with
is loaded with hashish and has its lights on its stern.
That's enough Hristos. We know these.
Enough.
The ship never left.
Peru is lost in the ages.
And the friends and the women betrayed us.
We didn't reach our destination.
After all, there's politics.
It's not that bad, you know.
You've got an identity. You have somewhere to belong.
It doesn't concern me anymore. It's my right to resist, alright?
If you gave me my cigars back, it would be even better.
OK.
Can you settle my query?
Tell me, why did we come to this house?
Eh fatso? Can you?
Yes.
I'll be forty in a while.
So?
At forty you start living with the strange fear that
when you turn a corner
there is the danger of seeing yourself coming to meet you from the opposite sidewalk.
Nobody can escape himself.
- Even if he's Joseph Conrad's protagonist. - All this is familiar.
But why did we come to this house?
Dunno. I think the blond one has a problem.
And we're supposed to solve it?
Come on wretch. Bring it on.
- I want a favour. - If it's about money, forget it.
I'm broke.
- No - So?
I've got a problem.
For many years.
To the point it defines my personal mythology.
What about it?
I'll put it simply.
I want to fuck Rita.
So all this introduction about personal mythology
was just to...
- It's a problem. - You're some guy.
Don't joke. I owe it to her.
So, when Rita comes we'll have some great laughs.
- Yes, but not with me this time. - What about the last time?
Many laughs.
Remember when we lost her?
She was fucking around with some tenderfoots.
Ekali, Psihiko...
Villas and such things.
- So? - So one summer night
I'm in a villa at Kifissia.
Gardens, atmosphere and great platters playing.
And Rita, next to the swimming pool, like Doris Day in the moonlight.
Very nice.
I was nice too, after many gins and being the 1.90m lover that I am...
I'm going next to her.
You know; looks, smile, shiny teeth
nice voice #4 and I drop a hint.
- And that's when Rita throws you into the pool. - How do you know?
I don't, but it's known that Rita next to a pool is quite dangerous.
- I hope it was filled with water. - It was.
And there were many laughs because everyobody ran there
and I started looking comfortable
I did swimming strokes -Esther Williams-
and how nice life is
and if they do it in Hollywood, why not here?
Everybody thought I was an eccentric rich guy.
A couple of chicks joined in and the whole thing was forgotten.
The sequel was more tragic, but it's not important anymore.
I don't think there is a problem.
- What if Rita doesn't want to? - The problem is if she wants.
Then what?
Then... crazy voyerism.
Our ramble with Rita didn't lead to anywhere.
So the Werewolf and the Bat and came back empty handed and soaking wet.
A storm had been raging for a while.
It was nice to see Hristos again.
Back in the day, he was the funny guy of the gang.
Every gang would have one.
It was impossible otherwise.
He would always tell about himself: "Hristos. The oldest wretch".
He was great at impersonations. Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney and Gene Kelly dance figures.
A wretch with all the meaning of the word.
I think that he became an actor after all.
The only thing that has changed since is more kilos.
For the last few minutes, Rita is getting to him.
I once heard a strange story.
that we went to her once in loving mood and she pushed him in a pool.
But it must be a lie.
Because fatso would always tell us everything.
Quiet now, wretches. A toast.
Come on.
Remember, wretch?
And then he tells her: "If you were a woman, I'd slap you".
Terrific!
Wine?
Shall I?
Wretches...
I want to tell you that it's really nice with you.
For those that don't know me, or know me and don't remember me, I'll say:
I was born at a Kivelis str. clinic.
That's where 'the children of Kivelis str." comes from, but that's another story.
Hristos. The oldest wretch of the gang.
And I say that in pride.
-The best yoghurt of Pagrati. -You don't say.
In clay pot, I might add. Not plastic and such bullshit.
Generally, wanted. Kepseli, Gezi, Polegono.
Since we broke up...
one in America, other in france, Germany...
all the fuck around.
Many things happened to me.
Things that nobody asked me about.
Thanks, wretch.
They put me in the university without asking me.
They enlisted me in the army, again without asking me.
Eventually, without understanding it, I found myself married.
-Let it be. -Some face.
At a time , I won't hide it...
I was in the pavements, having trouble with the cops.
-I was beaten a lot. -Again?
- Cypriot issue, Julian events, protest marches. - Hence being short.
And when I thought something was going on,
again without asking me, they fucked me over.
That was that.
Since then, wretches, in order to sleep at nights I read Science Fiction.
You know, space-time
journeys into hyperspace, mutant chicks and things like this.
I love James Joyce's wretches.
those who died in a ridiculous way
the junkies and the runaways in general
the alcoholics
and the blonde courtesans.
I drink to all the wretches, wherever they are.
And to that great woman that was always running from us and never came.
To Vera.
To some Vera, anyway.
It doesn't concern me, but no problem.
And to those that expect us back, but we'll never go to.
Is that a fact?
-Fatso, you told it nicely. -Some emotion under the fat, right?
Only you'll be wearing a mask?
Does it matter if I got burnt at a fire?
No problem, we remember you the way you were.
She's gone, forget her.
Alright, I didn't get burnt.
But I'm ashamed. I look terrible.
So you want me to take off the mask?
-Come now Rita, what's all this about? -Very well.
-Great!
-Shall we dance?
There are many things I want to tell you about me.
But nobody will listen to me.
Then why the hell did we gather here?
I'm listening.
Things didn't happen the way you knew.
That is, they didn't arrest me after the guy-with-the-pigeons incident.
I think we' re in for her doleful story.
-What's wrong? -Dunno. Some hair.
Wretches for a lifetime.
You didn't change at all.
You don't understand anything.
You think I don't know why you wanted me as friend back in the day.
Shoot.
To get you women, right?
That was the only reason.
It's been always one me; chicks, pocket money
bedding everyone
Rita...the pal.
The lovely Rita.
Alright with the fatso...
but you too, joking behind my back?
Great...
What about a striptease?
Why not?
That's you.
You feeling better?
- Happy days are gone, right? - Yeah, and the wretch days are here.
- You got a cigar, one of mine? - In my pocket.
Travelling in far places...
And the sun always finding us alone.
You, smoking Camel cigars...
And me, drinking whiskey in a corner.
- I've grown really bad, you know? - I know.
If you don't get the paper(money?)...
In the end, you don't get anywhere, do you?
Look...This should finish someday.
What about that great rape we talked about?
What about it?
Going in. Everly Brothers and so on. Shall we go?
Before I turned 17, life was like a game. Remember?
Bike, hide-and-seek on the grounds, swimming, cafes, summer cinemas.
By 20, I had messed up everything.
And there was a great fight in the house
and I broke our big mirror on my daddy's head.
I ran way then and went to Germany.
Things were quite tough there.
But they were great as well.
When you're 20...
I would paint everywhere.
Roads, squares, bridges...
I worked as a designer, cleaning woman,
barwoman, striptease, paper-girl.
Then I got pregnant. Who knows by who.
I kept it, but on the 5th month I regretted it.
I came back and had an abortion.
I could never conceive again.
Is that where the music plays? Wretch.
The French news present:
Here's what was heard at the Japanese embassy of Berlin:
There's so many things I want to tell you but nobody will listen to me.
Wretches!
Yeah, it's me.
Because I couldn't earlier, all right?
Are the kids all right?
What? When? Well, tomorrow, or the day after. We'll see.
No there isn't. No phone here.
Yes, we're 100 years back here and telephone hasn't been invented.
Yes, I'm drunk.
No, I don't want to speak to you soon.
I don't want to see you soon.
I'm dead. Bye.
Assholes! Where are you going?
Fuck.
What's up, Rita?
Many tricks going on.
What do we have in there?
Nice.
Wasted eh?
Drank a lot?
-Go to... -I didn't get it.
I am going to get it.
I'm making orange juice. Want some?
Why not?
Tell me...Something happened last night?
What did you say?
I'm saying, in the rooms there are some strange things.
-What happened last night? -What happened?
Listen, daughter
first of all, let's make clear who's drunk and who isn't
-And then, who asks and who answers, alright? -Yep.
So, I'm asking you what happened last night
and instead of answering, you ask the same thing
-Do you consider this sane talk? -No.
Are 4 oranges enough?
More than enough, thanks.
What's up?
I found a chick in the kitchen and some other in the bedrooms.
I know, some weird faces in the house.
What happened?
It seems we got them last night.
And did the great orgy take place?
How should I know? I was totally wasted last night.
Do you know who I was with? Being wasted and all...
Will you do something again? Because I don't like them being here.
-Alright? -Leave it to me.
But first I'll have to know who I was with last night.
Angel hair.
Vermicelli
Eyes..from brown to petrol.
Lips...chaos.
Breast...playboy-like.
Jewels...a wretch.
Personality...Below zero.
Special characteristics: Grey.
Wake up. What's up?
Listen.
There's a friend of me, Alkis.
Nice and all, though not always there.
Years ago, he met some Vera. No shit.
Since then, he's
I suggest to go next door, you as Vera...
You know...For some laughs.
Pierrot Le Fou.
Yeah right.
Cool baby.
Cool it.
You're wrong.
Always indecisive.
What's up?
Back in the garden there's a hole.
There's something in it.
I hope you don't believe that we all fit in there.
OK.
Some letters arrived. I don't think you'll read them. Isn't that so?
It is so.
And you don't want me to read them for you, of course.
You'd like to end it with me, right?
Only you haven't found the way yet.
Although I suspect something.
Then you'd be free to live with your ghosts and your music
far from my vulgar logic.
But you see, someone has to go out to water the flowers
to take care of your food.
That's why you need me.
I know I've trapped you somehow.
But I'll find a way to set you free.
I consider doing something
but I'm much of a coward.
Anyway
I'm getting used to that silent tunnel with you
But you can't make me believe that this Vera story isn't fake.
Maybe
Brenda Lee, Bill Halley, Fats Domino
they may be alive and pull you to paths that we can't see
but this Vera of yours
because darling, how should I put it...
Vera is the name of an age long gone.
Because when we are gone too
the name of my own age may have your name.
The rest is simple.
I'm going to water the flowers.
What's going on?
- I consider getting them out of here. - Why?
Because I'm scared.
And where will you get them?
I don't know.
Wouldn't it be better to put some soil on them?
- Could that happen? - Of course.
Just wait until dark.
I told Hristos to send everybody away from the house.
You know what?
I realised this years ago.
We lived in a nightmare full of shit.
Let's go because they could see us and come,
and we are not in the mood for this, all right?
Come on.
They made up a story
solely to put me in the clinic.
And you know why?
I'll tell you.
So they could keep me close.
I've never told this story to anyone, you know.
I had left the suitcases to my mother's house.
The plane would take off at 17:00.
Around 15:00, 15:30 I went to take my suitcases...
- Excuse me, I'll be right back. - Certainly.
So, I get in to the house
I go to my room to take my suitcase...
and they knock at the door.
Two heavies come in.
"Security", they say.
I was drunk and couldn't see my nose.
They drive me into a corner...
And what could I do?
I received a syringe up my ass and the next day
I found myself dizzy behind the bars of the nuthouse.
For my benefit, they said.
I can't understand a thing.
Besame Mucho ("Kiss me a lot" in Spanish)
Good, eh?
What's up?
What do you think?
Something tells me that we two could have a good time.
- Let it tell you... - Which? I didn't get it.
Let me ask you something.
Maybe last night...
Did we two have an adventure?
- You and me? - Why, does it seem so strange?
- Anything can happen. - A lover, for example.
What's up?
Nothing.
What's up?
- Today you aren't happy from your life. - Why not?
You can't fool me.
- And who are you, that nobody can fool? - Jim Blake, conjurer from Odessa.
- I'm sorry. - What's all that about?
Would you like to know why Kostas and George Swing died?
- I do. - Really?
Would you like to know why Vera died, and then the other Vera
and in the end, why you'll die too?
I like it.
Hristos? What's up, man?
Hristos, the oldest wretch.
And here, the wonderful, unique Claudia La Cardinale.
Tell the girl how it all started.
-How it all started? -You know.
Since the day that cretin Perry Como sang "Glendora".
-Understand? -No, but it'll be that way.
In general.
Let me ask you.
Maybe you and me last night...
- Eh, Konstantinos? - You had anything with the guy?
Dunno...Could be.
Maybe...we got into a tangle?
From a moment on, you don't understand what goes on.
I understand...Brutality and and...
Afterwards, when they got me out of the pool
I was supposed to get into my car.
To go back to the hotel and change.
And return smooth and nice.
But I was broke.
So I turned a corner
climbed mounts, after being chased by dogs
and went home.
15 kilometers on foot for you.
Barefoot as well, since my shoes were damaged by the water.
Needless to say, I got 40C fever.
Let's go again.
I'd really like to, but...
It's fine. I don't blame you.
It's not what you think, but...
It's pointless now.
-What's this thing? -A beer.
Tell me...
Any particular plan?
What for?
For what happens after.
After what?
You know well that if we stay for a couple of days more
without something happening
in the end strange things will happen, I can see it.
Yeah?
What else can you see?
I see myself packing up and running like a wet cat to my wife's arms.
So, why are you waiting for?
For something to happen.
Do you know what happened to me a while ago?
Rita asked me to do it and I didn't want to.
Can you imagine that?
There was a time I was looking for chicks that resembled her.
I even asked my wife to dye her hair blond.
But it was awful.
And now Rita's next to me
but I'm disgusted at the sight of her.
Hristos.
You being a poet and all
-should have learnt it. -Learn what?
-Always looking forward. -Is that so?
To see what?
Over there you mean?
A hole with two corpses?
And you digging up in the night with crazy looks?
Didn't I tell you that something would happen eventually?
We already began, see what you did?
Fire?
Cigar again?
I'm making a pass at her.
-Will it take long? -What?
The movie.
It's a question if it even begins.
-Why? -Under the sun?
-A bit difficult, eh? -Nothing is impossible.
I saw you getting in
thought that it might begin. -I suggest to wait a bit.
You never know what happens.
After all, I heard there's nice moving today.
-Really? -Gilda.
Rita Hayworth. Glenn Ford.
Blood and Sand. Tyrone Power.
-Johnny Guitar. -For real?
Who knows? A red light may be switched on
and it will all begin.
Would it be bad?
The Queen of Sheba meets the Invisible Man.
The Postman Always Rings Twice.
Lana Turner. Erol Flynn. And Hristos. the oldest wretch.
The son of a bitch got my woman.
You're a bit slow, you know.
What should I do?
Throw pebbles at him.
I'll get off here.
I'll walk and join you later.
-Will you be home tonight? -Yeah, if you want me to.
-You need company, wretch? -No, I'm fine.
Let me show you something.
Let me show you something.
Come Alkis.
Sit down.
-What's with her? -She stole some things and tried to run away.
Let her go. We don't need these.
Sit down.
-Shall the bird lay her? -She's yours.
-What's wrong? -Send her away.
What's the matter?
Konstantinos killed a woman.
-What are we going to do with her? -Leave her to me.
-Which woman? -Go!
-What's wrong? -Dunno. They asked me to leave them alone.
Just fine.
What's up?
I killed a woman.
-And where is she? -A couple of kilometers from here.
If this is a joke...
Fatso...It doesn't look like one.
-What did you do to her? -I shot her twice.
I don't mean this...What did you do to ger afterwards?
Nothing. Just left her there.
-I think I should be going. -You aren't going anywhere.
We're going to get her with the car.
-How long ago was it? -I can't remember.
Hristos. Search for an axe or a screwdriver and take it with you.
Alright?
Because I don't know what will happen from now on.
We're screwed, right?
We were screwed by the moment we were born.
But they're all mistaken.
Because, you know... The wretches are still singing.
The dawn will come in a while.
It's Christmas Eve or something like that.
Anyway.
On the road to find the woman
we all decided, when we'd come back,
to decorate a Christmas tree.
We didn't find anything when we got there.
Maybe he lied.
Maybe he just injured her.
Nobody knows.
So
we went back
-Where is she going? -How should I know?
Maybe to meet the white knight.
Let her go.
When the ship goes down, the first to jump overboard are the rats.
What a chick.
Where's the wretch?
Let's go.
Come on wretch, we're here.
You' re wasted.
I'll help you.
Come on, wretch.
What have you done, you wretch?
What have you done?
Wretches!
So you're leaving, fatso?
It's leaving time.
What are you going to do with Konstantinos?
Forgot about him.
We should sort him out.
You have nothing to say, do you?
One of those fucking poems you'd always tell.
Eh, fatso?
I heard that Dimitris will come.
If he does, tell him that...
What could you tell him? Shit. Tell him nothing.
Just tell him that we gathered here and expected him.
I am going back... Where else?
To the balusters (meaning nuthouse).
Believe it or not, it's the only safe place for someone to hide at these times.
I'll tell the doctors our story.
That we spent the last days in the house...
And nobody is gonna believe me.
They'll laugh and say:
"Yet another crazy story by a crazy person".
Got it, Alkis?
You know, after all it wasn't that cretin's fault.
Whose?
- Perry Como's? - Right.
They were Konstantinos' jokes to cover up things.
Always joking.
A shame, because we would dance great numbers with Konstantinos.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, fatso.
Goodbye, wretch.
Look...
I bet that my cigars are in one of your pockets.
Always a free-loader, huh?
Velvet suit, right?
END Subtitles by panchamp