Kiss of the Spider Woman

––Look, I’m tired, and it makes me angry the way you brought all this up, because until you brought it up I was feeling fabulous, I’d forgotten all about this filthy cell and all the rest, just telling you about the film.

––I forgot all the rest, too.

––Well? Why break the illusion for me, and for yourself too? What kind of trick is that to pull?

––If he’s left all his mother’s stuff in the house just the way it was, it’s because he still wants to be a little boy […].

––But that’s all your own concoction. How do I know if the house was the mother’s? I told you that because I liked the apartment a lot, and since it was decorated with antiques I said it could be the mother’s, but that’s all. Maybe he rents the place furnished.

––Then you’re inventing half the picture.

––No, I’m not inventing, I swear, but some things, to round them out for you, so you can see them the way I’m seeing them…well, to some extent I have to embroider a little. Like with the house, for example.

––[…] Anyway, I put up with all of it…because there’s a purpose behind it. Social revolution, that’s what’s important, and gratifying the senses is only secondary. While the struggle goes on, and it’ll probably go on for the rest of my life, it’s not right for me to cultivate any kind of sensual gratification, do you get my point? because, really, that takes second place for me. The great pleasure’s something else, it’s knowing I’ve put myself in the service of what’s truly noble, I mean… well…a certain ideology…

––What do you mean, a certain ideology?

––My ideals…Marxism, if you want me to spell it out in only one word. And I can get that pleasure anywhere, right here in this cell, and even in torture. And that’s my real strength.

––But don’t act like that, you’re oversensitive…

––So what am I supposed to do about it? That’s how I am, very sentimental.

––I’ll say. It sounds just like a…

––What are you stopping for?

––Nothing.

––Say it, I know what you were going to say, Valentin. […] Say it, like a woman, that’s what you were going to say.

––Yes.

––And what’s so bad about being soft like a woman? Why is it men or whoever, some poor bastard, some queen, can’t be sensitive, too, if he’s got a mind to?

––I don’t know, but sometimes that kind of behavior can get in a man’s way […] when it comes to being finished with the torturers.

––But if men acted like women there wouldn’t be any more torturers.

––And you, what would you do without men?

––You’re right. They’re mostly brutes, but I like them.

––You’re going to laugh at what I’m going to tell you. […] I’m sorry because I’ve become attached to the characters. And now it’s all over, and it’s just like they died.

––So, Valentin, you too have a little bit of a heart.

––It has to come out some place…weakness, I mean.

––It’s not weakness, listen.

––Funny how you can’t get along without becoming attached to something…It’s…as if the mind had to secrete affection without stopping…

––And what’s masculine in your terms?

––It’s lots of things, but for me…well, the nicest thing about a man is just that, to be marvelous-looking, and strong, but without making any fuss about it, and also walking very tall. […] And it’s knowing what you want, where you’re going.

––That’s pure fantasy, that type doesn’t exist.

––[…] Let’s hear then…Give me your answer, what makes a man in your terms?

––Mmm…his not taking any crap…from anyone, not even the powers that be…But no, it’s more than that. […] What really makes a man is a lot more, it has to do with not humiliating someone else with an order, or a tip. Even more, it’s…not letting the person next to you feel degraded, feel bad.

––That sounds like a saint.

––No, it’s not as impossible as you think.

––I still don’t get you…explain a little more.

––I don't know, I don’t quite know myself, right this minute.

––What do you want me to say?

––That you’ll let me escape from reality once in a while, because why should I let myself get more depressed than I am? Otherwise I’ll go nuts […].

–– […] [Y]ou can drive yourself crazy here in other ways, not just out of despair…but from alienating yourself the way you do. Because that business of only thinking about nice things, as you put it, well, that can be dangerous too. […] It can become a vice, always trying to escape from reality like that, it’s like taking drugs or something. Because, listen to me, reality, I mean your reality, isn’t restricted by this cell we live in. If you read something, if you study something, you transcend any cell you’re inside of, do you understand what I’m saying? That’s why I read and why I study every day.

––Listen, here comes somebody, I think.

––Mmm, here they are. Stash the magazines, quick; if they see them, they’ll get stolen for sure. […] Please Valentin, no complaining to the guard.

––Okay…

––…

––…

––Take it…

––Rice…

––Right…

––Thanks.

––Eh, so much…

––That’s to keep you guys happy.

––Okay, but what about this other plate…Why so much less?

––What’s your problem, bud? Ain’t no use griping about it anyway…

––…

––…

––I didn’t answer back for your sake, Molina, if it weren’t for you, I think I would have thrown it right back in his face, this shitpile of glue they call rice.

[…] and one night the flyer’s proposition to the girl, “The two of us are all alone and expecting nothing more out of life, neither love nor joy, and so perhaps it’s possible to help one another, for I have some money that could be your security, and you too might take care of me a little, since my health’s no longer improving, and I don’t want to be near anyone who feels sorry for me but you can’t feel sorry for me, because you’re as sad and lonely as I am, and so perhaps we could join together, but with nothing more to it than a contract, an arrangement between just friends.”

––a European woman, a bright woman, […] a woman with a knowledge of Marxism, […] an attractive woman, a woman who won’t be shaken by the news of someone else’s demise, […] a woman who refuses to accompany her lover on a trip back to the jungle coffee region, a woman who goes right back to the daily routine of a busy Parisian executive, a woman who nonetheless finds it difficult to forget true love, a woman who knows what she wants, a woman who has no regrets about her final decision, a dangerous woman, a woman who is capable of quickly forgetting, a woman with the power to forget what would have only become a burden, a woman who could even forget the death of a fellow who returns to his own country, a fellow who’s flying back to his own country […]

––Anyway, I don’t know…it seems like we were destined to be separated.

––Because you loved each other too much?

––That sounds like another bolero, Molina.

––Listen, big man, don’t you know by now, boleros contain tremendous truths, which is why I like them.

––The healthy thing about her, though, was the way she stood up to me. We had a genuine relationship going for us. She never just…how can I explain it? She never let herself be manipulated, like, the typical female.

––…Inside, I’m all raw, and only someone like you could really understand…because you were raised in a clean and comfortable house like me and taught to enjoy life, and I’m the same way. I can’t adjust to being a martyr, it infuriates me, I don’t want to be a martyr, and right now I wonder if the whole thing hasn’t been one terrible mistake on my part….They tortured me, but […] I didn’t even know the real names of my comrades, so I only confessed combat names […] but inside myself there seems to be another kind of torturer…and for days he hasn’t let up…And it’s because I seem to be asking for some kind of justice. Look how absurd what I’m about to say is: I'm asking for some kind of justice, for some providence to intervene…because I don’t deserve to just rot forever in this cell […].

––the learned executioner’s cortex, factory girl heads roll, zombie heads, impassive gaze of the learned executioner down upon the poor innocent cortex of a chick from suburbia, of a fag from suburbia […] the poor rolling head of the fag from suburbia, nothing more to be done now, now it won’t attach anymore to the body, when it’s dead you must simply shut the eyes in the head, and caress the little narrow forehead, kiss the forehead, the little narrow forehead encasing the brains of that poor chick from suburbia, and who gave the order to have her guillotined? the learned executioner obeys an order which comes from no one knows where

––Then are we so pressured…by the outside world, that we can’t act civilized? Is it possible…that the enemy, out there, has so much power? […] Well, that everything that’s wrong with the world…and everything that I want to change…is it possible all that won’t allow me to…behave…even for a single minute, like a decent human being?

––What do you want to have? The water’s boiling.

––Put on tea for both of us, okay? […] here we are, all alone, and when it comes to our relationship, how should I put it? We could make any damn thing out of it we want; our relationship isn’t pressure by anyone. […] In a sense we’re perfectly free to behave however we choose with respect to one another […]. Because, well, outside of this cell we may have our oppressors, yes, but not inside. Here no one oppresses the other.

––I respect you, and I’m fond of you, and I want you to feel the same about me, too. […]

––But haven’t you…haven’t you any close friends…who also mean a lot to you?

––Yes, but look, my friends have always been…well, faggots, like I am, and among ourselves […] we don’t put much faith in one another, because of the way we are…so easy to scare, so wishy-washy. And what we’re always waiting for…is like a friendship or something, with a more serious person…with a man, of course. And that can’t happen, because a man…what he wants is a woman.

––And all homosexuals are that way?

––No, there’s another kind who fall in love with one another. But as for my friends and myself, we’re one hundred percent female. […] We’re normal women; we sleep with men.

––He asks her if she’s happy inside this gilded cage. […] Then she tells him the truth, how, exhausted by the terrible ordeal of the theater, where she’d managed to climb to the very pinnacle, she let herself be taken in by a man she thought was decent. […] She soon got bored with just doing nothing all the time and asked him to allow her to return to acting, but he refused. Then the reporter tells her he’s ready to do anything for her […] and then kisses her. She throws her arms around him, for a minute letting herself be carried away by an impulse, and says, I need you…But then he asks her to go away with him. And she’s too afraid to do it.

––Goddamn it! I said there’s not going to be any unhappy feelings here today, so there’s not going to be any! […] Because today we don’t let the outside in.

––You frightened me.

––And don’t get sad on me, and don’t be frightened either…The only thing I want is to keep my promise to you, and make you forget about anything that’s ugly. I swore it this morning; you’re not going to have to brood about things. And I’m going to keep my word, damn it, because it doesn’t cost me anything. It's so easy to make you stop that brooding…and while it’s in my power, for at least this one day damn it, I’m not going to let you brood about things.

––It’s that when you’re here, like I already told you, I’m not me in a way, and that’s a relief. And afterwards, until I sleep, even though you’re back on your little cot, I’m still not me. It’s a strange thing…How can I explain it?

––-Go on, tell me about it.

––Don’t hurry me, let me concentrate…And it’s like when I’m alone here in my bed I’m no longer you either, I’m someone else, who’s neither a man nor a woman, but someone who feels…

––…out of danger.

––Yes, that’s exactly it, how did you know?

––Because it’s what I feel.

––[…] you, physically you’re a man as much as I am […] you’re not in any way inferior. Then why doesn’t it occur to you to ever be…to ever act like a man? […] I don’t understand anything about this, but […] I mean that if you enjoy being a woman…you shouldn’t feel any the less because of it. […] You don’t have to…submit.

––But if a man is…my husband, he has to give the orders, so he will feel right. That’s the natural thing, because that makes him the…the man of the house.

––No, the man of the house and the woman of the house have to be equal with one another. If not, their relation becomes a form of exploitation.

––[…] Well, this is very intimate, but since you’re asking about it….The kick is in the fact that when a man embraces you…you may feel a little bit frightened.

––…Will you miss me at all?

––Yes, I’ll miss you.

––Valentin, I made a promise, I don’t know who I promised, God, maybe, although I’m not a believer. […] And what it was that I wanted more than anything in life was to get out of here in order to take care of my mom. […] And my wish has been granted.

––Be happy then. You, you’re very generous to think first of someone else, and not yourself. You ought to be proud of that.

––But is it fair, that, Valentin?

––What?

––That I always end up with nothing…That I don’t have anything truly my own in life.

––Such an enigmatic ending, isn’t it, Valentin?

––No, it’s right, it’s the best part of the film. […] It means that even if she’s left with nothing, she’s content to have had at least one real relationship in her life, even if it’s over and done with.

––But don’t you suffer even more, after having been so happy but then winding up with nothing?

––Molina, there’s one thing to keep in mind. In a man’s life, which may be short and may be long, everything is temporary. Nothing is forever. […] It’s a question of learning to accept things as they come, and to appreciate the good that happens to you, even if it doesn’t last. Because nothing is forever.

––Yes, it’s easy to say. But feeling it is something else.

Subject left house at 7:45 A.M. and arrived work 8:51 A.M. Around 10 A.M. telephoned his friend Lalo at the latter’s home, thanking him for the job recommendation, and passed the receiver to one of his employers there in boutique who then spoke to Lalo as well, calling him Soraya of Persia, and eventually clarifying the meaning of said nickname, by remarking, “Soraya, that must be your name because you can never have children.” In turn, the other one, Lalo, called the first Queen Fabiola of Belgium, for same reason. We should again point out that the matter of constantly switching names for each other suggests no premeditation, but rather a simple game which conceals no code of any kind.

Of the wounded, Molina expired before arriving patrol unit could administer first aid. […] if he was in fact aware of our continued surveillance, his plan––in the event of being surprised in an incriminating position––may in fact have been one of the following: either he expected to escape with the extremists, or he was ready to be eliminated by same.

The present compilation of reports has been typed up in quadruplicate, for distribution only to authorized personnel, with the original to remain in this office permanently on file.

[…] there’s no point in being so sad because the only one who knows for sure is him, if he was sad or happy to die that way, sacrificing himself for a just cause, because he’s the only one who will ever have known, and let’s hope, Marta, how much I wish it with all my heart, let’s hope that he may have died happily, “For a just cause? hmmm... I think he let himself be killed because that way he could die like some heroine in a movie, and none of that business about a just cause,” that’s something only he can know, and it’s possible that even he never knew, but in my cell I can’t sleep anymore because he got me used to listening to him tell films every night, like lullabies […]

[…] she can’t move, there in the deepest part of the jungle she’s trapped in a spider’s web, or no, the spiderweb is growing out of her own body […] so many threads that look hairy like ropes and disgust me, even though if I were to touch them they might feel as smooth as who knows what […] she’s crying, or no, she isn’t, she’s smiling but a tear rolls out from beneath the mask, […] and I ask her why she’s crying and in a close-up […] she answers me that that’s just what can never be known, because the ending is enigmatic, and I answer her that it’s good this way, that it’s the very best part of the film because it signifies... and at that point she didn’t let me go on, she said that I wanted to find an explanation for everything […]