Oregano: The Failure Family (2022) Movie Script
Argentinian humor is ambiguous,
dubious, dark, heretical,
parodical, even absolutely comical,
but it always contains
some sarcastic tinge of cruelty.
Maybe that's what gets confused
with the "Argentinian sorrow."
Because the opposite of sorrow is joy,
and Argentinian humor is never joyful.
Yes, Mom.
I'm gonna tell you what I've kept inside
for so long.
Today's the big day.
You're a bitch, Mom.
You ruined our lives!
You ruined my life and Biggie's, Mom.
I'm 35 and what have I done?
What have I done with my life, Mom?
Nothing!
That's the answer, Mom. Nothing!
The Beatles had sold 200 million records
at my age, Mom!
I'm 35 years old!
Or am I 25?
Tell me the truth, Mom.
Am I 35 or 25?
Tell me the truth for once in your life.
You monster!
You ruined us!
Me and Biggie.
Biggie
Twenty-eight years old
Unemployed
He was a rising star of football, Mom.
Why did you send him to
artistic roller skating lessons?
Look at Dad
Dad's a nobody.
Former butcher.
Or unemployed butcher.
I'm not sure which one it is.
We're a failure.
The Failure Family.
PEOPLE SUPPORT HIM
SHAME!
EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED
EVERYTHING THAT'S COMING
MENEM: PRESIDENT OF ALL ARGENTINES
WORLD CUP '78
ARE THEY SAFE?
FOR THOSE WHO GO FROM SPECTATORS
TO PROTAGONISTS
OREGANO: THE FAILURE FAMILY
Can't you see no one comes here anymore?
How long has it been since anyone
even asked us anything?
Biggie says we're isolated.
The only one in here
having a good time is you, Mom.
You, Mom.
Fifty-three years old.
Housewife.
Piercing stare.
Housewife
Or should I say parasite, Mom?
Housewife or insatiable queen?
Housewife or slut?
I'm not afraid of you anymore, Mom.
You're all for show.
You're a blow-up doll.
Watch out for sunlight
because it can melt plastic,
you old fucking hag!
You dirty old hag!
You old fucking tramp!
What's up with you, filthy bitch?
You better wash your mouth and your ass
before you speak about your mother!
- I'm sorry, Mom.
- "I'm sorry"?
You just say "I'm sorry" after hurting me
like you just did?
After humiliating me?
Tell me, Romina
Do you want me to shoot you?
- No!
- Answer me!
- No!
- Do you want me to shoot you?
Do you want the bullet to enter your skull
and, unable to exit,
it starts going around and around
destroying everything in its path?
And you're left paraplegic
Or worse: Gone.
Dead just like your grandma.
May she rest in peace.
- Is that what you want, Romina?
- No.
I swear I don't, Mom.
So then why
Why are you messing with me?
Why are you like this with me?
What's your problem with me?
You're trying to compete against me.
But is your jealousy really
directed at me?
That's it.
It's jealousy.
Jealous of me and jealous for me.
Come on, little cunt.
Speak up. Let me help you.
You won't let anyone help you.
Come on, who do you think you are?
Are you a defender of those
humiliated and offended?
You think you're like Eva Peron?
You know very well I respect Evita.
And that, without her,
Peronism wouldn't have ever reached
the historical significance it had.
I do respect Evita.
But not Peron. You know that very well.
But to think that because of that
I would be afraid of you
because you fancy yourself Evita,
that's a reach, sweetie.
The difference is like comparing
monkeys and men.
And to try pinning
your brother against me, that's low.
Come on, tell me.
Whose life did I ruin?
Answer me!
Biggie.
Biggie.
Biggie.
What's up, Mom?
Come out.
Mommy wants to ask you a question.
Did I ruin your life, Biggie?
Answer me, did I ruin your life?
- Did you hear, Romina?
- Yes, Mom. Thank you.
Your brother is a difficult matter.
You oversimplify it because you're a cunt
but it's a difficult matter.
He just got mixed up
differentiating things.
You understand?
What is a subject?
It's a difficult task for a toddler
to understand the difference
between subject and object.
But the baby does something to achieve it.
He's not born knowing he is himself
and the world is the world.
The difference in the definition
of subject and object
comes from labor.
And your brother
has always been a lazy bum.
A lazy Biggie.
What do you want for dinner?
Anything, Mom.
Anything is not an answer, Biggie.
Do you want some baked chicken?
Yes!
With potatoes and oregano?
Yes!
Biggie, what was your friend's name?
Albertito?
That one, Albertito!
Is he coming for dinner today?
No Yes I don't know. Yeah, why?
Just to know how many people
I'm cooking for.
Albertito
Come on.
Dad.
Daddy.
Dad.
Daddy.
Dad.
Dad.
I have declared martial law
across the entire nation.
Stick martial law up your ass.
You can withdraw up to 250 pesos per week.
Several supermarkets were ransacked.
We heard the uproar
coming from the butcher's shop
next to the supermarket.
What did you take, sir?
Meat and food,
because I don't have anything to eat.
The peso is not and will not be devalued.
Do you accept patacones?
resignation of President
Fernando De La Rua.
Dad.
Dad.
Daddy. Dad.
Dad.
Dad.
Dad. Dad. Daddy. Daddy.
Dad.
There's a chance I might be moving
five blocks away.
Stop getting on my nerves, Biggie.
- What happens, Dad, is that I want
- Fuck off!
Dad won't listen to me.
Dad doesn't love me.
Dad won't listen to me.
Why do you insist on talking to him
when he's gloomy?
Because it's important.
- It's my life.
- Your life, your life.
Everyone here thinks
only their stuff matters.
What's important is something else.
The unanswered questions.
Which questions?
"Which questions?"
The ones in this house, Biggie.
This house is full
of unanswered questions.
Like what?
Like what?
You're so naive, Biggie.
You've always been such a
- Pussy.
- No!
There comes a time
when one has to face the truth.
- What truth?
- "What truth?"
The whole truth, Biggie. All of it.
The absolute truth.
Facing the unanswered questions
once and for all.
Give me an example.
For example,
if you're my dad and I'm your daughter,
then why are we the same age?
Turn down the music, Alicia.
What music, Butcher?
The music, any music,
all the music, Alicia.
All music sucks.
Jazz people think
they discovered something.
For fuck's sake!
Scales, scales, scales.
It's like trying to see who
can keep their head underwater longer.
Fake improvisers!
Tightrope walkers with a rope 50 cm
from the ground and double net!
What a bunch of pussies!
Fine, music is the art
of combining sounds.
But how? Which ones?
How the fuck do you combine them
to make something worthwhile?
See how he gets?
Can't you see things don't add up?
It's not right, Biggie.
Get out while you can. Far, far away.
Far enough to forget we even existed.
I rented a place five blocks away.
- You rented a place?
- Shut up, you idiot!
- Dad doesn't know yet!
- Why didn't you tell me?
Because it's not true.
You failed again?
Biggie.
Look at me.
I have nothing to do with you.
Have you seen Dad?
He has nothing to do with you, either.
Have you seen Mom?
She has nothing to do with me.
And look at me.
I have nothing to do with you.
- And look at
- All right! Romi, enough.
- Fine.
- What do you want?
It's just there's too many possibilities.
I did some research.
I'm not an idiot. I did research
and I couldn't find
one single case of a parents and children
with the same age.
There's uncles, grandparents,
siblings, cousins.
But there isn't one
with parents and children.
She might be our mom,
assuming she's 53 as she says.
Though with all those surgeries,
we'd never know.
But assuming she is, right?
That means she had me at 18,
that sounds reasonable.
But he He can't be my dad.
And he might not be yours either.
The other day,
I was going through Dad's pockets
and I found a clipping, all yellowed,
that said something about
slavery in colonial times.
And what would that prove?
That we're Armenian children.
Armenian children.
I don't remember what sort of
conjecture I reached at the time,
but if I did, it was for a reason.
And no one forgets a clipping like that
unless it means something.
It's what I call selective forgetfulness.
I don't get it.
You know, like a husband forgetting
a motel receipt or a used condom, get it?
It's the guilt in their minds,
filling it, filling it to the brim
and, when it sees a way out,
it reveals itself
in the form of selective forgetfulness.
And then?
And then, I don't know,
I don't really remember, Romi.
We're two Armenian children.
Armenian children that were stolen.
Armenian or from Mendoza, if you want.
It doesn't matter from where.
We're two Armenian children
or from Mendoza that were stolen
and one of them shows signs of
sexual identity issues.
That's a bit confusing, Biggie.
- That's all I've got.
- Well, yeah.
But can't you explain it better?
More to the point?
Better.
A gang dedicated to
organ trafficking, drug trafficking,
human trafficking.
And they went to a town
in one of the provinces
and kicked down a door
and they stole us from the arms
of our parents
and gave us away to these monsters.
No.
That doesn't add up, Biggie.
Get it? It doesn't add up.
Armenians are tough,
they would've found us already.
No, that doesn't add up.
- Do you have the clipping?
- Yes.
Then show it to me!
Slavery in colonial times.
Come on! Go! Take it!
- Is that the so-called clipping?
- Yes!
That's it?
- Go!
- I've seen this a million times!
Don't you see that on the other side
there's a picture of Boca
doing a lap of honor?
Don't you get it? Boca, Palermo, football.
That's why he keeps it. Football.
It's always football covering things up,
hiding things.
And worst of all is that football
in some countries works as a cover up
for alarming social issues.
Not only general poverty issues, but also
What are you two gossiping about
other countries?
Well, whatever. Dinner's ready!
- Go wash your hands.
- No, Mom
You know you shouldn't eat
with dirty hands, Biggie.
- Can I wash them in the kitchen?
- No, go to the bathroom.
Now!
Did you notice Biggie is still afraid
to go to the bathroom alone, Hector?
- Hector? You called me Hector.
- What?
You called me Hector, Alicia.
- You're crazy. I called you Norberto.
- I'm not crazy. You said Hector.
- Who the fuck is Hector?
- I don't know, Norberto! Fuck off!
Didn't I say Norberto?
- You said Hector, Alicia.
- Oh, come on, what's wrong?
Is the butcher jealous?
What's wrong, Hector?
Hector? Damn it, Alicia!
You said it again!
You called me Hector again!
I solve this issue right now
and move on to another.
Because this is an issue.
We're having an issue.
- Is this an issue, Alicia?
- Yeah, it is.
Well, I want to move on to another.
I want to solve this right now.
If there's been infidelity or adultery,
you better tell me.
I want you to confess.
And, in any case, consider the possibility
of divorce or legal separation.
- No!
- Quiet!
Infidelity or adultery.
Call it what you want,
what matters here is you cheating.
As I was saying,
if there was no infidelity or adultery,
I want a reasonable explanation
for you calling me Hector
on two separate occasions.
- Do you want a blow job?
- What?
Sucking you off, Norberto.
- Sucking you off, that's all.
- The children are here.
Oh, but I'm on fire.
I can tell it's a tactic, baby.
I know you well.
- You're saying that to butter me up.
- No
I'm on fire, I swear.
It came over me.
Willingly, out of nowhere.
It came to my mind
everything on the Biology handbook.
The one from school, remember?
With all those
typical drawings of muscles.
All detailed, next to each other,
over each other.
- Oh, I'm so horny, Norberto!
- Alicia, stop it. I'm not made of stone.
Remember the collage technique?
The collage technique
always made me horny.
I can picture your head all cut up
and glued over the bodies
from the handbook full of muscles.
And if we're talking about muscles,
why not buttocks? Why not dick?
Biggie! Biggie!
Nothing is worth it,
if there isn't love.
When I sing that verse,
that just came to me,
I remember that joyful moment
that we lived through.
I can quench my thirst
with only a whisper.
Are you there?
Are you there?
Biggie! Biggie!
- What's wrong?
- What's wrong with what? I'm calling you!
Why are you acting like that?
- What am I acting like?
- I don't know.
- What am I acting like, Dad?
- Like that! All agitated!
Look at you! Calm down! For fuck's sake!
What did you want to talk about?
Independence of what?
A country? A region?
Are you in a guerrilla war, Biggie?
Let's have this conversation. Tell me.
No, Dad. It's about my independence.
Mine.
What?
His emancipation, Dad.
Oh. Your own, right?
Yours.
Oh, well, well, well.
- Did you wash your hands?
- Yes.
Good.
Now let's eat.
We can talk about this later, Biggie.
Remind me.
Subject matter: Emancipation
No, all of you remind me.
Subject matter: Child's emancipation.
All right?
Good. Now let's eat.
Oh, no, no, no. Before we do that,
let's say grace.
Stop fucking around, Alicia.
Go fuck yourself, Norberto.
I can never suggest anything
in this house.
Now you get to decide on matters of faith.
Let me remind you there's a thing
called freedom of worship, Norberto.
- Come on, take a seat and eat.
- I'm not gonna fucking eat!
I'm exploding with anger, cow-killer!
I'm exploding!
It was bound to happen.
It's been years of putting up
with you all.
You're exaggerating, Alicia.
That's not exploding with anger.
Oh, right.
Now you get to decide
how I explode as well.
I can explode inwards if I want,
you piece of garbage!
Just what I needed!
You telling me
whether I implode or explode,
you piece of shit!
As if the damage wasn't the same.
All three of you are the same.
And you?
You, bitch?
Come here. Take my seat.
Come on, Romina, take my seat.
What do you think? That I don't notice
you want to take my place?
You Oedipal piece of shit.
Is there more oregano, Dad?
Stop busting my balls
over the oregano, Romina.
Are you really scared
of going to the bathroom, Biggie?
Yes, Dad. He's scared.
What are you so scared of?
He hears voices coming from the drain.
Since when?
Since he started going there, obviously.
You can't fear what you don't know.
Is that so? What about death?
You don't fear death,
you fear the absence of life.
You're such a fucking idiot.
Biggie.
Biggie.
- Biggie!
- What?
Are you really scared of that?
Yes, partially.
What do you mean?
It means that
it's partially something else.
There's something poetic to it, too.
Something meaningful.
A bathroom that stops being a bathroom
without ceasing to be a bathroom.
But it evolves in such a novel manner
that I don't have words to express it
at this very moment.
Suck on that!
Look how this motherfucker speaks!
"A bathroom that stops being a bathroom
without ceasing to be a bathroom."
That's my fucking son!
Children, let's start
the radio project again.
Which radio project, Dad?
What do you mean "which radio project"?
The community radio, Romina!
That's old news.
People moved on from that.
I know people moved on.
Since when do we follow what others do?
- Never.
- Ever.
See? What matters
is having something to say
and everything else will come along,
get it?
And we have a lot to say.
We have our own yearning,
we have our own resentment,
we have our own
Our own
Contests?
Contests is not the word, Romina!
Our own
Failures?
Failures.
That's the word, Biggie.
Our own
Failures.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.
The truth is I never left you.
All through my wild days.
My mad existence.
I kept my promise.
Don't keep your distance.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.
The truth is I never left you.
All through my wild days.
My mad existence
I kept my promise.
Don't keep your distance.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.
I really fucked you up.
That is the power of music, you dummies.
The power of music
We were already fucked up, Alicia.
Things never really lived up
to my fantasies.
I said that on Sunday afternoon,
and it was seared into me.
"That's my tragedy," I thought afterwards,
but I didn't say it.
- You did say it.
- Oh, did I?
Yeah, you said it, Dad.
Things never really lived up
to my fantasies,
so is it fair to blame oneself for failing
or is that just how it goes?
Subject or object, Alicia.
Subject or object?
Who's really taken to the gallows?
- Well, I think
- Shut up, you moron!
It's not a question you have to answer.
It's a rhetorical question, Mom!
Oh, well, I apologize to the masters.
Keep reflecting.
"Keep reflecting." Now everything we say
will sound forced, Alicia.
I think the community radio
is unfinished business.
Yes. I think so, too.
- Do you remember, Mom? About the radio?
- What?
About the community radio
we were gonna set up here at home.
- Right.
- Yeah.
Very nice.
Very nice project.
Congratulations, Romina.
- I think the radio's unfinished business.
- No!
It's me who thinks
it's unfinished business, idiot.
So what?
I also think it's unfinished business!
No, Romina. Biggie said it first.
You can think of it as anything else:
A rhino, a self goal, a rematch,
but unfinished business
is Biggie's phrase.
Whatever.
Let's not argue about this nonsense,
because besides
I don't know if I have
something to say, Dad.
I don't know.
The world spins around,
and I do, too, and I don't judge.
I don't know. I think I need a few days
to think about it. Let me think.
"Let me think about it" says the idiot.
Weren't you the one pestering me
about unanswered questions
or whatever bullshit just now?
Well, yeah, but we're not gonna
air our dirty laundry on FM.
Why not?
Self-humiliation in media
is the latest trend.
Look at the dimwit speak.
You wanna miss out on that, moron?
What was your question?
- The one about ages?
- That one! What was it exactly?
The question is: How is it possible that
she, as your daughter, is 35
and you, as her father, are also 35?
It's a miracle.
Like the goal Palermo scored
against Real Madrid. A miracle.
Let's make a radio now!
Guys. Guys.
We have no contacts in the media.
We have no political support.
We have no equipment.
We have no capital.
We have nothing.
We have nothing.
That's her being a cunt, Dad.
She's setting obstacles,
obstacles, obstacles.
What, don't you have a karaoke machine?
What the fuck does that
have to do with this?
Don't you plug in the little mic
in the little machine
And dance in front of the mirror
like a cat in heat?
- And?
- "And," the idiot says!
If you can do all that
in front of the window
you can put the machine here.
Background music. We talk. Radio effect.
There's no radio effect
because there's no antenna.
And without antenna
there's no transmission, sissy.
There's no transmission, but at least
there's radio, fucking exhibitionist.
There's no radio because
there's no listeners, moron.
No? No? And us? What are we?
Broadcasters, dipshit. Broadcasters.
See, you're a fool, fool, fool,
little fool.
Every broadcaster is,
simultaneously, a listener.
Unless they're deaf.
And anyway, they realize
that something's being broadcasted.
So the radio effect happens
whether you like it or not.
No matter what.
Do you really have a karaoke machine?
Go get it before I kick your ass!
Biggie, this could be our last chance.
TO: ROMI
Dad, Palermo
- Is he a football player?
- No, Biggie.
He's not a football player. He's an idol.
Martin Palermo.
Palermo, Palermo.
Palermo.
He played in Boca.
My beloved club.
My beloved club.
I met Albertito at the Villa Pearson Club.
- Why the comment, Biggie?
- The comment is not an accident.
I want to talk about an unfinished topic.
About my emancipation.
- What?
- My independence.
- What the fuck is Biggie saying, Alicia?
- Forget it. It doesn't matter.
It does matter, Biggie. It does.
Biggie, no, no. Leave the books.
Come on, honey. Give it a title and start.
Life's twists and turns?
Life's twists and turns! Now expand on it.
Come on.
Dad
Dad, remember Albertito was coming
for dinner?
- What?
- Yes, yes, he remembers. Go on.
Life's twists and turns!
Albertito and I are thinking of renting
something five blocks from here.
Well,
since things are hard,
we thought of sharing rent, right?
He's a volunteer firefighter,
so he doesn't have much money.
Volunteer firefighters, as everyone knows,
don't have a salary.
The ones in the city do.
But that's not the case
with Tito. Alberto. Albertito.
Well, since we are just
Now isn't the time to throw money away,
so we thought "what if we rent together?"
Domestic disputes can happen anywhere.
Also, it's good
that our parents know each other.
You know his parents,
and you the parents know
Logically, right? If you know
Another good thing is
they're not involved in anything.
They're not involved with
anti-globalization groups,
they're not involved in drugs,
they're not involved in in anything.
Just like you, Dad.
Not in anything. And
No, no, no, Dad! Like you now.
I mean, right now. It's temporary.
You're a butcher, Dad.
Everybody knows you! The butcher!
They come to the door,
and yell "butcher!", they call.
They call you that, right, Dad?
Well, and
We'd like to rent something big.
We have a small studio apartment.
Small, with a little bathroom.
We'd like something bigger, but it's okay.
Anyway, the issue of changing
or getting dressed together
It's no problem.
We're friends. More than friends.
We're like brothers.
Well, maybe not like brothers.
That's not important.
What I wanted to say was
I wanted to ask for your advice.
Not advice. Your opinion.
Because
The decision has been made already.
You're not fags, are you?
- No, Dad!
- You're not fags, are you?
No, no, no.
Biggie, please go make Mommy a cup of tea
because she's not feeling well.
That comment was fascist, Dad.
Or at least fascistoid.
What's wrong, Mom?
Yes, it was fascist, Biggie. So what?
We can't be hippies all the time.
What do you think, Romina?
Fighting with you, that's wrong.
It goes over my liver
and it jumps on my liver.
I will jump on your liver
if you don't stop annoying me.
You can't be a hippie all the time?
You can't be straight all the time either.
Mom, I already apologized.
I don't know what to do so you forgive me.
Don't do anything. Clear the table and
bring the machine before we lose momentum.
And Biggie, you're no servant.
Let her make her own tea.
No more privileges in this house.
I already have the first part of the show.
The second part is in Toton's ass.
- Bring it.
- What?
I said the second part of the show
is in Toton's ass. Bring it.
I don't get it, Dad.
Toton, your childhood toy.
The second part of the show is in his ass.
Bring it before I kick your ass.
DON'T USE YOUR FINGIES
This doesn't mean anything.
I had nowhere to put it so I put it here.
- Come on, Romina, let's go.
- The microphone, Dad.
Come on, Romina. We'll lose momentum.
Wait, wait, wait!
Remember when they worked?
Hands, hands, hands.
Merde, merde, merde!
Biggie, count to three.
Three, two, one.
On air!
We'll tell you the first stark truth.
We've got no antenna.
We won't lie. Nobody will mess with you.
You're listening to
Frequency. Frequency.
Frequency. Dissident frequency.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Well, welcome all.
I'm a bit nervous and excited,
because, for me,
this is more than a radio show.
This is a kind of rematch.
So I apologize for any eventual mistakes.
I tried many times
to start this alternative radio
but for unknown reasons,
or reasons unknown it wasn't possible.
So the fact that it is happening
is a dream come true for me.
But that doesn't mean I'll forget
my responsibilities. Therefore
Romina, stop the music.
This is not a Peronist show.
There's no Peronism here.
Neither Juan Domingo Peron,
nor Mrs. Eva Duarte de Peron inspire
or will inspire the spirit of this show.
SCANDAL IN A CONCERWe won't play Hugo del Carril's version
of the Peronist March.
Nor other marches,
such as I'm a Christian Democrat.
We won't play
football club marches either,
such as that of the glorious Boca Juniors.
I'm a diehard Jim Morrison fan
and that doesn't mean
we'll exclusively play The Doors.
Also, do not expect this show
to defend the use of mari
Alicia, where are you going?
Home.
- No, Mom, don't go.
- Can't you wait for the break to leave?
No, I can't.
I have to go.
- Just tonight, Mom.
- Why can't you stay?
Because I have my home.
What do you mean? Isn't this your home?
Romina, don't come at me with that.
There you have your food. It's done.
I'm leaving.
We are sick of polenta, Mom.
We're turning yellow from so much polenta.
What the fuck do you want me to do?
It's all I can get.
Right, the princess
is fancy with her food now.
Look, if you want, eat. And if not,
then starve to death, you ghetto bitch.
Ghetto bitch? Now I'm a ghetto bitch?
No, Romi.
You've always been a ghetto bitch.
Can't you wait till the end, Alicia?
It's the first episode!
No, I can't.
But I can't leave you like this.
So
Look.
It's all my savings.
It's all I have,
so you can hang on for a bit.
Here. Take it.
I don't have another penny.
And I can't come back anymore.
Go on with the radio show. It was nice.
Wait, Mom, wait! Wait, Mom!
With this cash, we can leave together.
Subject: Emancipation.
No, baby. That's a matter to discuss
with your father.
It's a father-and-son topic.
I will miss you all.
I can't help feeling a bit of nostalgia.
Too bad the karaoke machine's broken.
I would've loved to leave
with background music.
I'll never forget you all.
You changed my life.
You fucked it up.
But we also had happy moments.
Didn't we?
- Tell me the truth.
- Yes.
- Yes, Biggie?
- Yes.
Name one, Biggie.
When the vaccination truck came?
Remember? The truck in front of our house
all white and clean,
with blood red letters that said.
- "The Province vaccinates you."
- "vaccinates you."
Remember, Biggie?
Oh, my baby.
Mom, these are patacones.
What?
They're patacones, Mom.
- What's the deal? They're nice.
- They're not in circulation, Alicia.
- But why?
- Because they don't work anymore, Mom.
But I remember perfectly
that patacones existed.
Yes, they existed in the 2001 crisis, Mom.
They don't work anymore.
Well, Romina, keep them because they'll
work again sometime. Keep them.
Wait. I can't leave you like this.
Let me see if I have anything for you.
I don't have a penny. Nothing.
I know!
There must be
a maternal welfare plan somewhere.
Some summer holiday program.
Help me look for it.
Help me look for it, you lazy shits!
Come on, damn it! You heard your mother!
Go look! Romina, stop playing with that
and look for it.
You, Biggie,
go to the kitchen, I don't know.
This house is a mess,
it's full of soda siphons.
We will talk about this. We will talk.
On the top, it must say "social action"
in big letters.
Look what I found here!
A Veronese book!
The story of the dog who kills himself
after falling in love
with a Russian singer.
This
Is for you, Biggie.
And this
Is for you, Romina.
So you write all those things
that cross your mind.
Here, Romina, take it.
Mom, Dad! Mom, Dad! Mom, Dad, Mom!
Mom, Dad, Mom, Mom! Mom, Dad!
What are you doing, asshole?
You could have pulled the trigger,
you could have caused a tragedy!
I don't want to live anymore, Alicia!
"I don't want to live anymore!"
The man is a dandy!
As if he had a choice!
My dad's a dandy.
Well.
I'm leaving.
Someone younger might come tomorrow.
No one will come, Mom.
Don't you see no one comes anymore?
How long has it been since anyone came
to ask anything?
Biggie says we're isolated.
Isolated.
- What a word.
- Yeah.
And that we're 40 years behind Europe.
That's what Biggie says.
Yeah, Alicia. He says that.
Isolated.
What an idea.
If we were isolated,
if this were an island,
there would at least be some hope left.
We would spend every afternoon
looking at the mist above the water.
And, in the distance,
we would think we see a cruise.
With a lot of people waving
and an orchestra playing
Coming to our rescue.
And then,
we would realize
it wasn't anything but mist.
But why does it matter?
The horizon will always be there,
for when we feel, once again,
alone and abandoned.
A new mist would bring back hope.
But here
We are surrounded by people, Biggie.
Surrounded by people.
I don't get it, Mom.
It's the polenta.
Who can understand anything
when eating polenta day and night?
Romina, when you don't understand,
it makes me want to destroy you.
Take care of your brother.
- But Mom
- To hell with "Mom."
You'll take care of your brother
and Norberto.
Don't be so harsh on him.
Can't you see he's like a little kid?
At least tell me if Norberto is my dad
or not before you leave.
He loved you like a father.
Then he's not my father,
if he loved me "like" a father.
All fathers love "like" fathers, Romina.
- I'm leaving.
- No, wait, Mom!
Before you leave
At least tell me who's in this photo.
- It's you and Biggie, Romi.
- Mom, they're two girls!
Well, I don't have the answers
to all of your questions.
- I'm leaving.
- No.
You're not leaving
until you tell me the whole truth.
Romina. Give it back.
Don't make me shoot. Give it back now.
Let's go.
Go to bed and tomorrow morning
you'll see things differently.
Come kiss Mom goodbye.
Biggie.
A kiss for Mommy.
It didn't work out.
There's no sense in pointing fingers.
It didn't work out, period.
Alicia!
Alicia!
Kids, this is a new situation.
And, as every new and novel situation,
it has its pros and cons.
And I will tell you the pros and cons
of this situation.
There are three cons.
First.
Now that Alicia's gone,
this family has lost an essential member:
The mother.
Second.
I am left emotionally destroyed
and unable to take care of you.
- But, Dad
- No, Romina. I can't, I'm not okay.
I will try some project,
maybe the butcher's shop again.
I need something, a loan.
- Will you leave too?
- Biggie, I've just had a suicide attempt.
My wife left me for good.
Add to that a daughter the same age as me.
This is a mess, Biggie. I have to leave.
At least for a while.
- And third?
- Third what?
You said there were three cons.
Ah, yes.
First, family loses essential member.
Second, father emotionally destroyed.
And third,
the radio project is dead.
As a consequence of cons first and second.
No, no.
And the pros?
The pros
There are no pros, Biggie.
Mom?
Mom?
It's Mom's gun.
You'll need it more than me. Alicia.
Will Albertito come for dinner?
Romi, stop busting my balls
about Albertito.
What's your problem?
Who the fuck do you think you are
to talk to me like that?
Everyone treats me like an idiot here.
You think I'm going to buy your bullshit.
Answer me.
Will Albertito come for dinner, yes or no?
I don't know, Romi, I don't know!
And if you don't know, why the fuck
do you go on and on about him?
- Answer. Are you a couple or not?
- Stop, stop!
Are you a couple or not?
Answer now or I fill you with bullets.
I don't know, we never talked about it!
- But do you fuck or not?
- No!
Were you going to live with him
without having sex before?
What if it doesn't work?
Right, so in the end
Another family is destroyed, who cares?
Don't cry.
Don't get like that.
Do you want some soda water?
Yeah.
Here.
Is he a fireman?
For real?
Yeah.
But tell me the truth. Don't lie to me.
Let's start over.
I swear, Romi.
Do you want some more soda water?
Yeah.
This soda water is really good.
What do you mean by that?
Nothing, that it's good.
Good soda water?
It always tastes the same.
I don't know, this one tastes different.
Biggie
- What?
- I want to tell you something.
What?
But there. Let's go over there.
Biggie
You know those voices you hear
coming from the drain?
Stop, Romi, stop! You're just like Mom!
You're just like Mom!
Calm down, Biggie, stop!
It's Fabio.
What? What is Fabio?
The soda water man.
He's the one talking to you.
Actually, he's talking to me.
Yeah, yeah. I know.
I told him he crossed the line,
that we should schedule a time,
because you got scared.
But he says he can't control his passion
since he discovered the hole, okay?
And he helped me a lot at the time.
I told him.
I told him one day: Fabio,
I want to tell you something.
My dad and I are the same age.
And do you know what he told me?
And what's the matter, kid?
He's the soda water man.
Yeah.
- What a relief.
- Yeah.
The thing is, I feel like with the radio.
That you don't have an image,
just the voice.
And you imagine everything.
And I imagine everything.
I think of him as almighty.
He's all I have.
He's the best.
He's the best? The best?
He's an idiot, Romi! He's an idiot!
And you you too!
You never thought of telling me anything?
It never crossed your mind?
Yes, Biggie! I tried to tell you!
But the situation got out of hand, okay?
He started to propose
to break the door down
and build another and I got scared.
Do you know what's it's like
to go to the bathroom
sitting on the toilet and hearing
"are you there?," "are you there?"
every time?
It's impossible, Romi.
Biggie, I've been thinking of something.
Why don't you tell Albertito to come
live here with us?
- Here? To this house?
- Yeah.
Why? Are you going to rent
when there's plenty of space here?
It's just like Fabio says.
We have little, but we have each other.
THE END.
Are you there? Are you there?
dubious, dark, heretical,
parodical, even absolutely comical,
but it always contains
some sarcastic tinge of cruelty.
Maybe that's what gets confused
with the "Argentinian sorrow."
Because the opposite of sorrow is joy,
and Argentinian humor is never joyful.
Yes, Mom.
I'm gonna tell you what I've kept inside
for so long.
Today's the big day.
You're a bitch, Mom.
You ruined our lives!
You ruined my life and Biggie's, Mom.
I'm 35 and what have I done?
What have I done with my life, Mom?
Nothing!
That's the answer, Mom. Nothing!
The Beatles had sold 200 million records
at my age, Mom!
I'm 35 years old!
Or am I 25?
Tell me the truth, Mom.
Am I 35 or 25?
Tell me the truth for once in your life.
You monster!
You ruined us!
Me and Biggie.
Biggie
Twenty-eight years old
Unemployed
He was a rising star of football, Mom.
Why did you send him to
artistic roller skating lessons?
Look at Dad
Dad's a nobody.
Former butcher.
Or unemployed butcher.
I'm not sure which one it is.
We're a failure.
The Failure Family.
PEOPLE SUPPORT HIM
SHAME!
EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED
EVERYTHING THAT'S COMING
MENEM: PRESIDENT OF ALL ARGENTINES
WORLD CUP '78
ARE THEY SAFE?
FOR THOSE WHO GO FROM SPECTATORS
TO PROTAGONISTS
OREGANO: THE FAILURE FAMILY
Can't you see no one comes here anymore?
How long has it been since anyone
even asked us anything?
Biggie says we're isolated.
The only one in here
having a good time is you, Mom.
You, Mom.
Fifty-three years old.
Housewife.
Piercing stare.
Housewife
Or should I say parasite, Mom?
Housewife or insatiable queen?
Housewife or slut?
I'm not afraid of you anymore, Mom.
You're all for show.
You're a blow-up doll.
Watch out for sunlight
because it can melt plastic,
you old fucking hag!
You dirty old hag!
You old fucking tramp!
What's up with you, filthy bitch?
You better wash your mouth and your ass
before you speak about your mother!
- I'm sorry, Mom.
- "I'm sorry"?
You just say "I'm sorry" after hurting me
like you just did?
After humiliating me?
Tell me, Romina
Do you want me to shoot you?
- No!
- Answer me!
- No!
- Do you want me to shoot you?
Do you want the bullet to enter your skull
and, unable to exit,
it starts going around and around
destroying everything in its path?
And you're left paraplegic
Or worse: Gone.
Dead just like your grandma.
May she rest in peace.
- Is that what you want, Romina?
- No.
I swear I don't, Mom.
So then why
Why are you messing with me?
Why are you like this with me?
What's your problem with me?
You're trying to compete against me.
But is your jealousy really
directed at me?
That's it.
It's jealousy.
Jealous of me and jealous for me.
Come on, little cunt.
Speak up. Let me help you.
You won't let anyone help you.
Come on, who do you think you are?
Are you a defender of those
humiliated and offended?
You think you're like Eva Peron?
You know very well I respect Evita.
And that, without her,
Peronism wouldn't have ever reached
the historical significance it had.
I do respect Evita.
But not Peron. You know that very well.
But to think that because of that
I would be afraid of you
because you fancy yourself Evita,
that's a reach, sweetie.
The difference is like comparing
monkeys and men.
And to try pinning
your brother against me, that's low.
Come on, tell me.
Whose life did I ruin?
Answer me!
Biggie.
Biggie.
Biggie.
What's up, Mom?
Come out.
Mommy wants to ask you a question.
Did I ruin your life, Biggie?
Answer me, did I ruin your life?
- Did you hear, Romina?
- Yes, Mom. Thank you.
Your brother is a difficult matter.
You oversimplify it because you're a cunt
but it's a difficult matter.
He just got mixed up
differentiating things.
You understand?
What is a subject?
It's a difficult task for a toddler
to understand the difference
between subject and object.
But the baby does something to achieve it.
He's not born knowing he is himself
and the world is the world.
The difference in the definition
of subject and object
comes from labor.
And your brother
has always been a lazy bum.
A lazy Biggie.
What do you want for dinner?
Anything, Mom.
Anything is not an answer, Biggie.
Do you want some baked chicken?
Yes!
With potatoes and oregano?
Yes!
Biggie, what was your friend's name?
Albertito?
That one, Albertito!
Is he coming for dinner today?
No Yes I don't know. Yeah, why?
Just to know how many people
I'm cooking for.
Albertito
Come on.
Dad.
Daddy.
Dad.
Daddy.
Dad.
Dad.
I have declared martial law
across the entire nation.
Stick martial law up your ass.
You can withdraw up to 250 pesos per week.
Several supermarkets were ransacked.
We heard the uproar
coming from the butcher's shop
next to the supermarket.
What did you take, sir?
Meat and food,
because I don't have anything to eat.
The peso is not and will not be devalued.
Do you accept patacones?
resignation of President
Fernando De La Rua.
Dad.
Dad.
Daddy. Dad.
Dad.
Dad.
Dad. Dad. Daddy. Daddy.
Dad.
There's a chance I might be moving
five blocks away.
Stop getting on my nerves, Biggie.
- What happens, Dad, is that I want
- Fuck off!
Dad won't listen to me.
Dad doesn't love me.
Dad won't listen to me.
Why do you insist on talking to him
when he's gloomy?
Because it's important.
- It's my life.
- Your life, your life.
Everyone here thinks
only their stuff matters.
What's important is something else.
The unanswered questions.
Which questions?
"Which questions?"
The ones in this house, Biggie.
This house is full
of unanswered questions.
Like what?
Like what?
You're so naive, Biggie.
You've always been such a
- Pussy.
- No!
There comes a time
when one has to face the truth.
- What truth?
- "What truth?"
The whole truth, Biggie. All of it.
The absolute truth.
Facing the unanswered questions
once and for all.
Give me an example.
For example,
if you're my dad and I'm your daughter,
then why are we the same age?
Turn down the music, Alicia.
What music, Butcher?
The music, any music,
all the music, Alicia.
All music sucks.
Jazz people think
they discovered something.
For fuck's sake!
Scales, scales, scales.
It's like trying to see who
can keep their head underwater longer.
Fake improvisers!
Tightrope walkers with a rope 50 cm
from the ground and double net!
What a bunch of pussies!
Fine, music is the art
of combining sounds.
But how? Which ones?
How the fuck do you combine them
to make something worthwhile?
See how he gets?
Can't you see things don't add up?
It's not right, Biggie.
Get out while you can. Far, far away.
Far enough to forget we even existed.
I rented a place five blocks away.
- You rented a place?
- Shut up, you idiot!
- Dad doesn't know yet!
- Why didn't you tell me?
Because it's not true.
You failed again?
Biggie.
Look at me.
I have nothing to do with you.
Have you seen Dad?
He has nothing to do with you, either.
Have you seen Mom?
She has nothing to do with me.
And look at me.
I have nothing to do with you.
- And look at
- All right! Romi, enough.
- Fine.
- What do you want?
It's just there's too many possibilities.
I did some research.
I'm not an idiot. I did research
and I couldn't find
one single case of a parents and children
with the same age.
There's uncles, grandparents,
siblings, cousins.
But there isn't one
with parents and children.
She might be our mom,
assuming she's 53 as she says.
Though with all those surgeries,
we'd never know.
But assuming she is, right?
That means she had me at 18,
that sounds reasonable.
But he He can't be my dad.
And he might not be yours either.
The other day,
I was going through Dad's pockets
and I found a clipping, all yellowed,
that said something about
slavery in colonial times.
And what would that prove?
That we're Armenian children.
Armenian children.
I don't remember what sort of
conjecture I reached at the time,
but if I did, it was for a reason.
And no one forgets a clipping like that
unless it means something.
It's what I call selective forgetfulness.
I don't get it.
You know, like a husband forgetting
a motel receipt or a used condom, get it?
It's the guilt in their minds,
filling it, filling it to the brim
and, when it sees a way out,
it reveals itself
in the form of selective forgetfulness.
And then?
And then, I don't know,
I don't really remember, Romi.
We're two Armenian children.
Armenian children that were stolen.
Armenian or from Mendoza, if you want.
It doesn't matter from where.
We're two Armenian children
or from Mendoza that were stolen
and one of them shows signs of
sexual identity issues.
That's a bit confusing, Biggie.
- That's all I've got.
- Well, yeah.
But can't you explain it better?
More to the point?
Better.
A gang dedicated to
organ trafficking, drug trafficking,
human trafficking.
And they went to a town
in one of the provinces
and kicked down a door
and they stole us from the arms
of our parents
and gave us away to these monsters.
No.
That doesn't add up, Biggie.
Get it? It doesn't add up.
Armenians are tough,
they would've found us already.
No, that doesn't add up.
- Do you have the clipping?
- Yes.
Then show it to me!
Slavery in colonial times.
Come on! Go! Take it!
- Is that the so-called clipping?
- Yes!
That's it?
- Go!
- I've seen this a million times!
Don't you see that on the other side
there's a picture of Boca
doing a lap of honor?
Don't you get it? Boca, Palermo, football.
That's why he keeps it. Football.
It's always football covering things up,
hiding things.
And worst of all is that football
in some countries works as a cover up
for alarming social issues.
Not only general poverty issues, but also
What are you two gossiping about
other countries?
Well, whatever. Dinner's ready!
- Go wash your hands.
- No, Mom
You know you shouldn't eat
with dirty hands, Biggie.
- Can I wash them in the kitchen?
- No, go to the bathroom.
Now!
Did you notice Biggie is still afraid
to go to the bathroom alone, Hector?
- Hector? You called me Hector.
- What?
You called me Hector, Alicia.
- You're crazy. I called you Norberto.
- I'm not crazy. You said Hector.
- Who the fuck is Hector?
- I don't know, Norberto! Fuck off!
Didn't I say Norberto?
- You said Hector, Alicia.
- Oh, come on, what's wrong?
Is the butcher jealous?
What's wrong, Hector?
Hector? Damn it, Alicia!
You said it again!
You called me Hector again!
I solve this issue right now
and move on to another.
Because this is an issue.
We're having an issue.
- Is this an issue, Alicia?
- Yeah, it is.
Well, I want to move on to another.
I want to solve this right now.
If there's been infidelity or adultery,
you better tell me.
I want you to confess.
And, in any case, consider the possibility
of divorce or legal separation.
- No!
- Quiet!
Infidelity or adultery.
Call it what you want,
what matters here is you cheating.
As I was saying,
if there was no infidelity or adultery,
I want a reasonable explanation
for you calling me Hector
on two separate occasions.
- Do you want a blow job?
- What?
Sucking you off, Norberto.
- Sucking you off, that's all.
- The children are here.
Oh, but I'm on fire.
I can tell it's a tactic, baby.
I know you well.
- You're saying that to butter me up.
- No
I'm on fire, I swear.
It came over me.
Willingly, out of nowhere.
It came to my mind
everything on the Biology handbook.
The one from school, remember?
With all those
typical drawings of muscles.
All detailed, next to each other,
over each other.
- Oh, I'm so horny, Norberto!
- Alicia, stop it. I'm not made of stone.
Remember the collage technique?
The collage technique
always made me horny.
I can picture your head all cut up
and glued over the bodies
from the handbook full of muscles.
And if we're talking about muscles,
why not buttocks? Why not dick?
Biggie! Biggie!
Nothing is worth it,
if there isn't love.
When I sing that verse,
that just came to me,
I remember that joyful moment
that we lived through.
I can quench my thirst
with only a whisper.
Are you there?
Are you there?
Biggie! Biggie!
- What's wrong?
- What's wrong with what? I'm calling you!
Why are you acting like that?
- What am I acting like?
- I don't know.
- What am I acting like, Dad?
- Like that! All agitated!
Look at you! Calm down! For fuck's sake!
What did you want to talk about?
Independence of what?
A country? A region?
Are you in a guerrilla war, Biggie?
Let's have this conversation. Tell me.
No, Dad. It's about my independence.
Mine.
What?
His emancipation, Dad.
Oh. Your own, right?
Yours.
Oh, well, well, well.
- Did you wash your hands?
- Yes.
Good.
Now let's eat.
We can talk about this later, Biggie.
Remind me.
Subject matter: Emancipation
No, all of you remind me.
Subject matter: Child's emancipation.
All right?
Good. Now let's eat.
Oh, no, no, no. Before we do that,
let's say grace.
Stop fucking around, Alicia.
Go fuck yourself, Norberto.
I can never suggest anything
in this house.
Now you get to decide on matters of faith.
Let me remind you there's a thing
called freedom of worship, Norberto.
- Come on, take a seat and eat.
- I'm not gonna fucking eat!
I'm exploding with anger, cow-killer!
I'm exploding!
It was bound to happen.
It's been years of putting up
with you all.
You're exaggerating, Alicia.
That's not exploding with anger.
Oh, right.
Now you get to decide
how I explode as well.
I can explode inwards if I want,
you piece of garbage!
Just what I needed!
You telling me
whether I implode or explode,
you piece of shit!
As if the damage wasn't the same.
All three of you are the same.
And you?
You, bitch?
Come here. Take my seat.
Come on, Romina, take my seat.
What do you think? That I don't notice
you want to take my place?
You Oedipal piece of shit.
Is there more oregano, Dad?
Stop busting my balls
over the oregano, Romina.
Are you really scared
of going to the bathroom, Biggie?
Yes, Dad. He's scared.
What are you so scared of?
He hears voices coming from the drain.
Since when?
Since he started going there, obviously.
You can't fear what you don't know.
Is that so? What about death?
You don't fear death,
you fear the absence of life.
You're such a fucking idiot.
Biggie.
Biggie.
- Biggie!
- What?
Are you really scared of that?
Yes, partially.
What do you mean?
It means that
it's partially something else.
There's something poetic to it, too.
Something meaningful.
A bathroom that stops being a bathroom
without ceasing to be a bathroom.
But it evolves in such a novel manner
that I don't have words to express it
at this very moment.
Suck on that!
Look how this motherfucker speaks!
"A bathroom that stops being a bathroom
without ceasing to be a bathroom."
That's my fucking son!
Children, let's start
the radio project again.
Which radio project, Dad?
What do you mean "which radio project"?
The community radio, Romina!
That's old news.
People moved on from that.
I know people moved on.
Since when do we follow what others do?
- Never.
- Ever.
See? What matters
is having something to say
and everything else will come along,
get it?
And we have a lot to say.
We have our own yearning,
we have our own resentment,
we have our own
Our own
Contests?
Contests is not the word, Romina!
Our own
Failures?
Failures.
That's the word, Biggie.
Our own
Failures.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.
The truth is I never left you.
All through my wild days.
My mad existence.
I kept my promise.
Don't keep your distance.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.
The truth is I never left you.
All through my wild days.
My mad existence
I kept my promise.
Don't keep your distance.
Don't cry for me, Argentina.
I really fucked you up.
That is the power of music, you dummies.
The power of music
We were already fucked up, Alicia.
Things never really lived up
to my fantasies.
I said that on Sunday afternoon,
and it was seared into me.
"That's my tragedy," I thought afterwards,
but I didn't say it.
- You did say it.
- Oh, did I?
Yeah, you said it, Dad.
Things never really lived up
to my fantasies,
so is it fair to blame oneself for failing
or is that just how it goes?
Subject or object, Alicia.
Subject or object?
Who's really taken to the gallows?
- Well, I think
- Shut up, you moron!
It's not a question you have to answer.
It's a rhetorical question, Mom!
Oh, well, I apologize to the masters.
Keep reflecting.
"Keep reflecting." Now everything we say
will sound forced, Alicia.
I think the community radio
is unfinished business.
Yes. I think so, too.
- Do you remember, Mom? About the radio?
- What?
About the community radio
we were gonna set up here at home.
- Right.
- Yeah.
Very nice.
Very nice project.
Congratulations, Romina.
- I think the radio's unfinished business.
- No!
It's me who thinks
it's unfinished business, idiot.
So what?
I also think it's unfinished business!
No, Romina. Biggie said it first.
You can think of it as anything else:
A rhino, a self goal, a rematch,
but unfinished business
is Biggie's phrase.
Whatever.
Let's not argue about this nonsense,
because besides
I don't know if I have
something to say, Dad.
I don't know.
The world spins around,
and I do, too, and I don't judge.
I don't know. I think I need a few days
to think about it. Let me think.
"Let me think about it" says the idiot.
Weren't you the one pestering me
about unanswered questions
or whatever bullshit just now?
Well, yeah, but we're not gonna
air our dirty laundry on FM.
Why not?
Self-humiliation in media
is the latest trend.
Look at the dimwit speak.
You wanna miss out on that, moron?
What was your question?
- The one about ages?
- That one! What was it exactly?
The question is: How is it possible that
she, as your daughter, is 35
and you, as her father, are also 35?
It's a miracle.
Like the goal Palermo scored
against Real Madrid. A miracle.
Let's make a radio now!
Guys. Guys.
We have no contacts in the media.
We have no political support.
We have no equipment.
We have no capital.
We have nothing.
We have nothing.
That's her being a cunt, Dad.
She's setting obstacles,
obstacles, obstacles.
What, don't you have a karaoke machine?
What the fuck does that
have to do with this?
Don't you plug in the little mic
in the little machine
And dance in front of the mirror
like a cat in heat?
- And?
- "And," the idiot says!
If you can do all that
in front of the window
you can put the machine here.
Background music. We talk. Radio effect.
There's no radio effect
because there's no antenna.
And without antenna
there's no transmission, sissy.
There's no transmission, but at least
there's radio, fucking exhibitionist.
There's no radio because
there's no listeners, moron.
No? No? And us? What are we?
Broadcasters, dipshit. Broadcasters.
See, you're a fool, fool, fool,
little fool.
Every broadcaster is,
simultaneously, a listener.
Unless they're deaf.
And anyway, they realize
that something's being broadcasted.
So the radio effect happens
whether you like it or not.
No matter what.
Do you really have a karaoke machine?
Go get it before I kick your ass!
Biggie, this could be our last chance.
TO: ROMI
Dad, Palermo
- Is he a football player?
- No, Biggie.
He's not a football player. He's an idol.
Martin Palermo.
Palermo, Palermo.
Palermo.
He played in Boca.
My beloved club.
My beloved club.
I met Albertito at the Villa Pearson Club.
- Why the comment, Biggie?
- The comment is not an accident.
I want to talk about an unfinished topic.
About my emancipation.
- What?
- My independence.
- What the fuck is Biggie saying, Alicia?
- Forget it. It doesn't matter.
It does matter, Biggie. It does.
Biggie, no, no. Leave the books.
Come on, honey. Give it a title and start.
Life's twists and turns?
Life's twists and turns! Now expand on it.
Come on.
Dad
Dad, remember Albertito was coming
for dinner?
- What?
- Yes, yes, he remembers. Go on.
Life's twists and turns!
Albertito and I are thinking of renting
something five blocks from here.
Well,
since things are hard,
we thought of sharing rent, right?
He's a volunteer firefighter,
so he doesn't have much money.
Volunteer firefighters, as everyone knows,
don't have a salary.
The ones in the city do.
But that's not the case
with Tito. Alberto. Albertito.
Well, since we are just
Now isn't the time to throw money away,
so we thought "what if we rent together?"
Domestic disputes can happen anywhere.
Also, it's good
that our parents know each other.
You know his parents,
and you the parents know
Logically, right? If you know
Another good thing is
they're not involved in anything.
They're not involved with
anti-globalization groups,
they're not involved in drugs,
they're not involved in in anything.
Just like you, Dad.
Not in anything. And
No, no, no, Dad! Like you now.
I mean, right now. It's temporary.
You're a butcher, Dad.
Everybody knows you! The butcher!
They come to the door,
and yell "butcher!", they call.
They call you that, right, Dad?
Well, and
We'd like to rent something big.
We have a small studio apartment.
Small, with a little bathroom.
We'd like something bigger, but it's okay.
Anyway, the issue of changing
or getting dressed together
It's no problem.
We're friends. More than friends.
We're like brothers.
Well, maybe not like brothers.
That's not important.
What I wanted to say was
I wanted to ask for your advice.
Not advice. Your opinion.
Because
The decision has been made already.
You're not fags, are you?
- No, Dad!
- You're not fags, are you?
No, no, no.
Biggie, please go make Mommy a cup of tea
because she's not feeling well.
That comment was fascist, Dad.
Or at least fascistoid.
What's wrong, Mom?
Yes, it was fascist, Biggie. So what?
We can't be hippies all the time.
What do you think, Romina?
Fighting with you, that's wrong.
It goes over my liver
and it jumps on my liver.
I will jump on your liver
if you don't stop annoying me.
You can't be a hippie all the time?
You can't be straight all the time either.
Mom, I already apologized.
I don't know what to do so you forgive me.
Don't do anything. Clear the table and
bring the machine before we lose momentum.
And Biggie, you're no servant.
Let her make her own tea.
No more privileges in this house.
I already have the first part of the show.
The second part is in Toton's ass.
- Bring it.
- What?
I said the second part of the show
is in Toton's ass. Bring it.
I don't get it, Dad.
Toton, your childhood toy.
The second part of the show is in his ass.
Bring it before I kick your ass.
DON'T USE YOUR FINGIES
This doesn't mean anything.
I had nowhere to put it so I put it here.
- Come on, Romina, let's go.
- The microphone, Dad.
Come on, Romina. We'll lose momentum.
Wait, wait, wait!
Remember when they worked?
Hands, hands, hands.
Merde, merde, merde!
Biggie, count to three.
Three, two, one.
On air!
We'll tell you the first stark truth.
We've got no antenna.
We won't lie. Nobody will mess with you.
You're listening to
Frequency. Frequency.
Frequency. Dissident frequency.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Well, welcome all.
I'm a bit nervous and excited,
because, for me,
this is more than a radio show.
This is a kind of rematch.
So I apologize for any eventual mistakes.
I tried many times
to start this alternative radio
but for unknown reasons,
or reasons unknown it wasn't possible.
So the fact that it is happening
is a dream come true for me.
But that doesn't mean I'll forget
my responsibilities. Therefore
Romina, stop the music.
This is not a Peronist show.
There's no Peronism here.
Neither Juan Domingo Peron,
nor Mrs. Eva Duarte de Peron inspire
or will inspire the spirit of this show.
SCANDAL IN A CONCERWe won't play Hugo del Carril's version
of the Peronist March.
Nor other marches,
such as I'm a Christian Democrat.
We won't play
football club marches either,
such as that of the glorious Boca Juniors.
I'm a diehard Jim Morrison fan
and that doesn't mean
we'll exclusively play The Doors.
Also, do not expect this show
to defend the use of mari
Alicia, where are you going?
Home.
- No, Mom, don't go.
- Can't you wait for the break to leave?
No, I can't.
I have to go.
- Just tonight, Mom.
- Why can't you stay?
Because I have my home.
What do you mean? Isn't this your home?
Romina, don't come at me with that.
There you have your food. It's done.
I'm leaving.
We are sick of polenta, Mom.
We're turning yellow from so much polenta.
What the fuck do you want me to do?
It's all I can get.
Right, the princess
is fancy with her food now.
Look, if you want, eat. And if not,
then starve to death, you ghetto bitch.
Ghetto bitch? Now I'm a ghetto bitch?
No, Romi.
You've always been a ghetto bitch.
Can't you wait till the end, Alicia?
It's the first episode!
No, I can't.
But I can't leave you like this.
So
Look.
It's all my savings.
It's all I have,
so you can hang on for a bit.
Here. Take it.
I don't have another penny.
And I can't come back anymore.
Go on with the radio show. It was nice.
Wait, Mom, wait! Wait, Mom!
With this cash, we can leave together.
Subject: Emancipation.
No, baby. That's a matter to discuss
with your father.
It's a father-and-son topic.
I will miss you all.
I can't help feeling a bit of nostalgia.
Too bad the karaoke machine's broken.
I would've loved to leave
with background music.
I'll never forget you all.
You changed my life.
You fucked it up.
But we also had happy moments.
Didn't we?
- Tell me the truth.
- Yes.
- Yes, Biggie?
- Yes.
Name one, Biggie.
When the vaccination truck came?
Remember? The truck in front of our house
all white and clean,
with blood red letters that said.
- "The Province vaccinates you."
- "vaccinates you."
Remember, Biggie?
Oh, my baby.
Mom, these are patacones.
What?
They're patacones, Mom.
- What's the deal? They're nice.
- They're not in circulation, Alicia.
- But why?
- Because they don't work anymore, Mom.
But I remember perfectly
that patacones existed.
Yes, they existed in the 2001 crisis, Mom.
They don't work anymore.
Well, Romina, keep them because they'll
work again sometime. Keep them.
Wait. I can't leave you like this.
Let me see if I have anything for you.
I don't have a penny. Nothing.
I know!
There must be
a maternal welfare plan somewhere.
Some summer holiday program.
Help me look for it.
Help me look for it, you lazy shits!
Come on, damn it! You heard your mother!
Go look! Romina, stop playing with that
and look for it.
You, Biggie,
go to the kitchen, I don't know.
This house is a mess,
it's full of soda siphons.
We will talk about this. We will talk.
On the top, it must say "social action"
in big letters.
Look what I found here!
A Veronese book!
The story of the dog who kills himself
after falling in love
with a Russian singer.
This
Is for you, Biggie.
And this
Is for you, Romina.
So you write all those things
that cross your mind.
Here, Romina, take it.
Mom, Dad! Mom, Dad! Mom, Dad, Mom!
Mom, Dad, Mom, Mom! Mom, Dad!
What are you doing, asshole?
You could have pulled the trigger,
you could have caused a tragedy!
I don't want to live anymore, Alicia!
"I don't want to live anymore!"
The man is a dandy!
As if he had a choice!
My dad's a dandy.
Well.
I'm leaving.
Someone younger might come tomorrow.
No one will come, Mom.
Don't you see no one comes anymore?
How long has it been since anyone came
to ask anything?
Biggie says we're isolated.
Isolated.
- What a word.
- Yeah.
And that we're 40 years behind Europe.
That's what Biggie says.
Yeah, Alicia. He says that.
Isolated.
What an idea.
If we were isolated,
if this were an island,
there would at least be some hope left.
We would spend every afternoon
looking at the mist above the water.
And, in the distance,
we would think we see a cruise.
With a lot of people waving
and an orchestra playing
Coming to our rescue.
And then,
we would realize
it wasn't anything but mist.
But why does it matter?
The horizon will always be there,
for when we feel, once again,
alone and abandoned.
A new mist would bring back hope.
But here
We are surrounded by people, Biggie.
Surrounded by people.
I don't get it, Mom.
It's the polenta.
Who can understand anything
when eating polenta day and night?
Romina, when you don't understand,
it makes me want to destroy you.
Take care of your brother.
- But Mom
- To hell with "Mom."
You'll take care of your brother
and Norberto.
Don't be so harsh on him.
Can't you see he's like a little kid?
At least tell me if Norberto is my dad
or not before you leave.
He loved you like a father.
Then he's not my father,
if he loved me "like" a father.
All fathers love "like" fathers, Romina.
- I'm leaving.
- No, wait, Mom!
Before you leave
At least tell me who's in this photo.
- It's you and Biggie, Romi.
- Mom, they're two girls!
Well, I don't have the answers
to all of your questions.
- I'm leaving.
- No.
You're not leaving
until you tell me the whole truth.
Romina. Give it back.
Don't make me shoot. Give it back now.
Let's go.
Go to bed and tomorrow morning
you'll see things differently.
Come kiss Mom goodbye.
Biggie.
A kiss for Mommy.
It didn't work out.
There's no sense in pointing fingers.
It didn't work out, period.
Alicia!
Alicia!
Kids, this is a new situation.
And, as every new and novel situation,
it has its pros and cons.
And I will tell you the pros and cons
of this situation.
There are three cons.
First.
Now that Alicia's gone,
this family has lost an essential member:
The mother.
Second.
I am left emotionally destroyed
and unable to take care of you.
- But, Dad
- No, Romina. I can't, I'm not okay.
I will try some project,
maybe the butcher's shop again.
I need something, a loan.
- Will you leave too?
- Biggie, I've just had a suicide attempt.
My wife left me for good.
Add to that a daughter the same age as me.
This is a mess, Biggie. I have to leave.
At least for a while.
- And third?
- Third what?
You said there were three cons.
Ah, yes.
First, family loses essential member.
Second, father emotionally destroyed.
And third,
the radio project is dead.
As a consequence of cons first and second.
No, no.
And the pros?
The pros
There are no pros, Biggie.
Mom?
Mom?
It's Mom's gun.
You'll need it more than me. Alicia.
Will Albertito come for dinner?
Romi, stop busting my balls
about Albertito.
What's your problem?
Who the fuck do you think you are
to talk to me like that?
Everyone treats me like an idiot here.
You think I'm going to buy your bullshit.
Answer me.
Will Albertito come for dinner, yes or no?
I don't know, Romi, I don't know!
And if you don't know, why the fuck
do you go on and on about him?
- Answer. Are you a couple or not?
- Stop, stop!
Are you a couple or not?
Answer now or I fill you with bullets.
I don't know, we never talked about it!
- But do you fuck or not?
- No!
Were you going to live with him
without having sex before?
What if it doesn't work?
Right, so in the end
Another family is destroyed, who cares?
Don't cry.
Don't get like that.
Do you want some soda water?
Yeah.
Here.
Is he a fireman?
For real?
Yeah.
But tell me the truth. Don't lie to me.
Let's start over.
I swear, Romi.
Do you want some more soda water?
Yeah.
This soda water is really good.
What do you mean by that?
Nothing, that it's good.
Good soda water?
It always tastes the same.
I don't know, this one tastes different.
Biggie
- What?
- I want to tell you something.
What?
But there. Let's go over there.
Biggie
You know those voices you hear
coming from the drain?
Stop, Romi, stop! You're just like Mom!
You're just like Mom!
Calm down, Biggie, stop!
It's Fabio.
What? What is Fabio?
The soda water man.
He's the one talking to you.
Actually, he's talking to me.
Yeah, yeah. I know.
I told him he crossed the line,
that we should schedule a time,
because you got scared.
But he says he can't control his passion
since he discovered the hole, okay?
And he helped me a lot at the time.
I told him.
I told him one day: Fabio,
I want to tell you something.
My dad and I are the same age.
And do you know what he told me?
And what's the matter, kid?
He's the soda water man.
Yeah.
- What a relief.
- Yeah.
The thing is, I feel like with the radio.
That you don't have an image,
just the voice.
And you imagine everything.
And I imagine everything.
I think of him as almighty.
He's all I have.
He's the best.
He's the best? The best?
He's an idiot, Romi! He's an idiot!
And you you too!
You never thought of telling me anything?
It never crossed your mind?
Yes, Biggie! I tried to tell you!
But the situation got out of hand, okay?
He started to propose
to break the door down
and build another and I got scared.
Do you know what's it's like
to go to the bathroom
sitting on the toilet and hearing
"are you there?," "are you there?"
every time?
It's impossible, Romi.
Biggie, I've been thinking of something.
Why don't you tell Albertito to come
live here with us?
- Here? To this house?
- Yeah.
Why? Are you going to rent
when there's plenty of space here?
It's just like Fabio says.
We have little, but we have each other.
THE END.
Are you there? Are you there?