[Babaouo] Translated from the French by Jaume Miravitlles
Before the film begins and while the titles and credits are being shown, the tango "Renacimiento" is heard. This will be repeated from time to time during the film as a sort of leit-motiv.
The corridor of a large hotel. The camera follows a bellhop, who appears to be in a great hurry, as he looks for a room. He finds it at the end of the corridor. He starts to knock, then stops in surprise as he hears coming from the room a veritable concert of strident, hysterical laughter, punctuated by the sound of violent shocks, as of very heavy objects being thrown against the walls and furniture. The laughter quickly becomes convulsive, giving the impression that about ten people are in the room.
(For laughter use Pathe sound effects record X 6285)
After hesitating, the bellhop takes advantage of a moment when the noise subsides somewhat to knock politely on the door, but the laughter and blows are heard again with even greater violence. The bellhop, who should give the impression of continual impatience, begins to bang loudly on the door, but in vain.
When the noise dies down again, the voice of a woman is heard. Through bursts of laughter she articulates with difficulty, "Just a second, you can't come in now."
After an interval during which the laughter rises again and two even more violent blows are heard, the door opens slightly, just enough to reveal half of the figure of a woman in transparent negligee. Camera pans from rear view of the bellhop to the woman, who is extremely young and beautiful, with somewhat dishevelled hair and an open countenance. Her looks, in the artificial light of the room, form a sort of nebulous aura about her, an impression accentuated by the soft lens which is customarily used in such scenes. In an infinitely soft voice she asks, "What do you want?'
"I have an urgent letter for M. Babauo. to be delivered to him in person."
"I will tell him," answers the woman, and closes the door again. The noise and laughter, which have not ceased, now grow louder than ever. The door shakes under the blows it sustains, opens suddently as an object is hurled out, and shuts with a bang. The object is a decapitated chicken, which flutter down the corridor and finally collapses, its blood tracing its course across the floor. Close-up of the chicken in a sea of blood.
The bellhop who has paid no attention to the chicken, grows more impatient then ever.
The door of the room opens and M. Babaouo appears. He is extremely insignificant in appearance, yet not without a certain distinction. He is in his shirt sleeves and has just finished wiping his hands on an absorbent towel. He shakes off the straw with clings to his trousers and removes the bits which are tangled in his hair.
He takes the letter from the bellhop and without the slightest show of emotion beings to read it.
Text of letter; "All alone in the Chateau de Portugal for three days, I can't stand it any longer. Help. Your adored, Mathilde Ibanez."
Babaouo tosses the towel away, looks at the time, gets his jacket and hastily leaves the hotel. He is constantly followed by the camera.
As he crosses the hotel lobby, a grand piano falls down the elevator shaft from the third story, crashing loudly on the marble floor.
He has no sooner reached the street than he meets a friend with whom he has a long conversation, as follows: (1) about the transformation of certain rooms in a former "agricultural syndicate" in Figueras, a small town in Catalonia (Spain), in the Province of Gerona, three hours from Cerbere; (2) about the difficulties which has risen in connection with a certain book-binding firm, which are such that they agree the only solution is to rebind all or at least three-quarters of the catalogues in question; (3) he and his friend decide on a rendezvous, in turn dependent on the very precarious situation of certain of his associations.
During this conversation the two men, who are walking slowly and stopping often, are followed by the camera, after panning, the camera stops, at which point the men, still walking, come back into full view. A veritable deluge covers the street, and the two friends are seen walking in water up to their ankles. The torrent brings with all sorts of debris and dead animals (donkeys, cows, horses.) In order to advance, the two men are frequently obliged to kick these objects and animals out of their way, and to protect themselves from them are at times forced to climb up onto benches or embankments, which hinders their conversation and prolongs it. Finally they take leave of each other.
Babaouo then proceeds along with absolutely dry street and reaches a large square which is covered with cyclists slowly weaving in and out. Their eyes are bandaged and they each carry a heavy stone on their heads. The celebrated little white cape, very clean, hangs from their shoulders.
Babaouo, threading his way carefully among the cyclists, crosses the square.
He goes down a subway entrance, not falling to greet with a familiar wave of his hand a woman of mature years, in her chemise, who is loudly sawing wood at the top of the stairs.
The camera follows Baraouo, who is shown in a long sequence descending the stairs. A pair of tango dancers several times cross the stair in a single exalted glide.
Baraouo reaches the platforms, where a large crowd is waiting for the train, mingled with the members of an enormous orchestra which has assembled and it about to begin playing the Overture of "Tannheuser."
The music starts, the members of the orchestra ignoring the crowd, who walk among them and talk audibly, oblivious to the presence of the orchestra or the music.
The musicians show exemplary self-control in the face of the annoyance caused by the incessant coming and going of the indifferent crowd. The faces of the musicians and especially the conductor, as well as their slight gestures and expressions, reveal their perfect training and patience, a resignation, which is not without dignity and even pride. The people in the crowd as they move back and forth knock over the music stands, and the musicians, already forced by the continuous jostling to play wrong notes, restrain their understandable anger and meekly bend down, with bitter smiles on their lips, to pick up the sheets of paper soiled and crumpled by shoes of the crowd. With the utmost sincerity and professional discipline they begin to play again, taking up at the point in the score which their colleagues have managed to reach with scarcely less difficulty and annoyance than they themselves have endured. This spectacle is prolonged until the arrival of the subway. The crowd stampedes to get seats, running over the musicians, who are almost obliged to stop playing altogether. Some of them are even forced to clutch their instruments to their chests to protect them, while others look for their instruments to their chests to protect them, while others look for their under the feet of the crowd, which kicks them around like footballs. Others try desperately to continue playing, turning to the wall to protect themselves from the chaos. The conductor on his podium; towering above the disorder, grips his baton as though he were about to resume conducting at any moment; from time to time he impatiently raps the desk. Whenever the confusion and tumult become particularly unbearable, he shuts his eyes and bites his lower lip.
The train leaves and the musicians regroup almost instantly to begin playing where they left off. But before they are able to do so, at the very moment when the whole orchestra is waiting for the signal to start, another train pulls into the station and a new crowd, as heedless as the first, pours headlong out of the cars and swarms over the orchestra, creating the same confusion and deplorable incidents as before.
Baraouo is seen sitting in a subway car. He frequently consults his watch (soft). Among the passengers, at the far end of the car, a woman is standing, entirely nude. Next to Babaouo sits a mailman, his legs are crossed, his hands in his pockets. On his shoe, which does not reach the floor, are poised two "eggs on the plate"* (without the plate). At a sudden stop the eggs onto the floor. This scene lasts three minutes.
Babaouo gets out to change trains. He is seen for five minutes waiting for the next trains arrive. The only other persons on the platform are two or three women, each carrying a child in her arms. Babaouo sits down on a bench, gets up and walks around, sits down again, etc...Finally he notices a small legless cripple in a wheelchair advancing with difficulty between the rails and stretching out a hand for alms. Babaouo gives him a franc, but, as the beggar's hand is already holding two eggs on a plate (without a plate), the franc punctures one of the yokes. The beggar, closing his hand around the coin, squashes the two eggs. Beyond, in the darkness of the tunnel, several seals can be vaguely discerned.
Arrival of the subway trails. Babaouo gets on. He is shown for two minutes traveling on the train.
Babaouo comes out of the subway station and walks for several moments towards a taxi stand. He gives a driver the address of the Chateau de Portugal and gets into the taxi, checking to make sure that his revolver is loaded.
The taxi is seen driving through a rural landscape, when suddenly the driver stops and gets out of the car without a word. He puts on an Indian feather headdress (from this point the film is in color and approaches a large fir tree. He beings to climb the tree slowly and when he reaches the point where the trunk divides he sits down meekly, turning up the collar of his jacket as though to say "What do you want me to do?"
After a brief outburst of anger, Babaouo realizes that there is no time to lose, and seizing the wheel of the automobile, drives away.
Babaouo reaches the town where the Chateau de Portugal is situated. He is seen driving the taxi. The streets are absolutely deserted.
Babaouo stops the car, gets out, and goes into a cafe which is completely empty. The camera follows him.
He comes out of the cafe and walks through several long streets, all deserted. Large sheets hang from the house-fronts as though deposited there by a strong wind, which picks them up and sends them whirling down the street again. The tango "Renacimiento" is heard faintly, Babaouo penetrates farther and father into the city, which appears to be immense. His footsteps ring loudly on the pavement. Dusk is beginning to fall. Babaouo hastens his steps, turning frequently to look around or behind him. His face, which expresses growing anxiety, is covered with sweat. He finds himself once again in front of a large cafe, which he enters. He looks intently, one by one, at the hundreds of absolutely deserted tables and suddenly emits a piercing cry of terror. Covering his face with a convulsive gesture, he rushes toward the door. It becomes apparent that his fear is caused by the discovery he has made on one of the tables of a coffee cup containing a neatly folded napkin. When he uncovers his face, he sees in the window across the street the upper part of the body of a standing woman, her naked, beautiful arm hanging in an attitude of fatigue, moving slightly. With a gesture of relief Babaouo goes toward the window, but as he approaches it he seems again to be frozen with fear. After a long hesitation, he is seen rushing into the house, and almost immediately comes out again in the same attitude in which he was seen at the cafe, his face in his hands, uttering a cry of terror. The tango "Renacimiento" fades out and the lights grow noticeably dimmer.
Babaouo, followed by the camera, now proceeds along a street almost entirely covered with flowers. Seeking to avoid treading on them, he hugs the wall, for the roses grow more abundantly in the middle than along the sides. At a crossing he has a choice of two streets. One is a continuation of the rose-covered street, the other is without flowers. In spite of himself, he takes the street covered with roses, which leads to the open door of a large theatre.
He climbs to the fourth floor of the theatre following the roses, which are strewn along the stairs. From a window on the fourth floor Babaouo contemplates the panorama of the city with its deserted streets. The sheets blown along the streets by the wind are again seen; Babaouo, his eyes wide with terror, draws back, biting his hands. He backs into the door one of the boxes, which gives way under the impact so that he falls into the box.
When he picks himself up he sees that the theatre is empty. In the center of the dimly-lighted stage he sees a violinist literally transfixed in the impassioned attitude of a virtuoso, balancing on his head a wardrobe of medium height out of whose open doors and drawers linen is tumbling in tumultous disorder. The violinist in his fanatic pose should be balancing his entire body on one legs; the cuff of his other trouser-leg should be carefully rolled up, the bare foot plunged into a plate of milk.
Brusquely Babaouo looks at his watch (soft), rushes headlong back down the stairs, and goes out into the city. From the outskirts he begins to discern the Chateau de Portugal, which should be of as nondescript an appearance as possible, but enormous.
As Babaouo approaches the Chateau a rhythmic sound is heard which suggests some monstrous, exhausted breathing. It grows louder.
Coming near and nearer, the sound is deafening, terrible and Babaouo is assailed by fright. Covered with sweat, advancing in almost total darkness, he reaches the end of a long, high retaining wall.
Huge waves are breaking on a pebbly beach which has been hidden by the wall. The sound that suggested anguished breathing is produced by these waves. It diminishes gradually as Babaouo moves away from the water on a road which is seen to lead to the Chateau de Portugal.
Babaouo reaches the gate of the Chateau which is adorned on either side by a work of sculpture placed symmetrically, each representing a chicken with its head cut off. Inside the garden gate, on a lawn, a bed fifty feet long is seen, on which is lying a cypress almost as long as the bed. In the background, the Chateau; through its half-open main door a coffin is silently passing.
Babaouo hastily crosses the garden and enters the chateau.
Mathilde, a very beautiful and distinguished woman, throws herself into the arms of Babaouo, who consoles her and assures her that she is no longer alone, that he is with her. Then he turns toward a room the entrance to which is covered by a large curtain. But Mathilde, with a supremely tragic gesture, throws herself in front of him to prevent him from entering.
Babaouo, shaking Mathilde, forces his way into the room.
On the bed, something considerably larger than a corpse is lying under a white sheet. Babaouo tries to draw back the sheet to see what is underneath but Mathilde stops him with a coquettish laugh, saying "You musn't do that. It's too horrible. It's been there for six days." Babaouo, won over by Mathilde's coaxing tone, gives in to her with an affectionate smile.
Mathilde informs him that her mother is probably arriving, as well as several friends who, she hopes, have been notified. In any case, in the likelihood that no other people will come tonight, it would be best for him to take off his clothes and make himself comfortable.
Babaouo and Mathilde go back into the other room and begin to undress. Mathilde puts on a luxurious pair of pyjames. Suddenly a handerkerchief falls from a dresser onto a black armchair, and Mathilde, uttering a piercing cry, almost faints.
Before Babaouo has time to take care of her, someone is heard running mechanically in the neighboring room where the object under the sheet is lying.
Mathilde and Babaouo runs toward the room, and at the same time an aged woman with white hair appears from behind the curtain. She throws herself into Babaouo's arms, crying horribly. It is Mathilde's mother, who has just arrived.
At this point a group of friends enters, men and women dressed in evening clothes, who crowd around the old woman lying almost unconscious in the armchair. Some of them seem alarmed, others perfectly calm and indifferent. One of them starts the phonograph and several couples begin to dance.
The old woman, her head resting on the chest of the kneeling Babaouo, recovers her senses and says in a plaintive tone "I want to see him just once more." She seems to be about to go into the room where the strange object is lying.
Mathilde and Babaouo rush toward the room, and at the same time an aged women with white hair appears from behind the curtain. She throws herself into Babaouo's arms, crying horribly. It is Mathilde's mother, who has just arrived.
At this point a group of friends enters, men and women dressed in evening clothes, who crowd around the old woman lying almost unconscious in the armchair. Some of them seem alarmed, others perfectly calm and indifferent. One of them starts the phonograph and several couples begin to dance.
The old woman, her head resting on the chest of the kneeling Babaouo, recovers her senses and says in a plaintive tone "I want to see him just once more." She seems to be about to go into the room where the strange object is lying.
Babaouo, his eyes filled with tears, tries to dissuade her, but Mathilde, with a roguish wink, advises him to let her pass if he wants to see something amusing. Going ahead of him, she runs into the mortuary chamber with a young man who has been embracing her in a corner a few minutes earlier.
Babaouo, whose tears have been succeeded by an indulgent and mocking smile, gives in to the old woman's pleas, and leading her gently toward the room, he parts the curtain himself.
Mathilde and the young man are seen swinging the object, one by the head, the other by the feet. When it has gained enough momentum they throw it at the old woman, who utters a mournful cry and sinks to the floor under its weight.
The ensuing confusion is indescribable. All of the guests are present, running hither and thither. Two individuals seize the object and throw it at a group of guests who are trying to flee. This act, which adds enormously to the general excitement, seems to have a contagious effect and is repeated several times.
When the confusion reaches its height, Mathilde and Babaouo, taking advantage of the wild disorder that reigns in the Chateau, take flight in a car driven by Babaouo.
Along the road patrols of communist soldiers pass at regular intervals.
The car now crosses an immense public square which is absolutely deserted. The sound of machine-gun fire is intermittently heard. On a small street leading downward from the main road is seen an enormous bus, five times life-size, filled with water, on which can be seen a little boat. In the boat three tiny legless Japanese singers with white eyes are giving a sensual rendition of the rumba "The Peanut Vendor." Babaouo stops to look at them.
The singers, embarrassed at being observed, burst out laughing, putting their hands to their faces, and in spite of their efforts they are utterly unable to go on with their song.
After a friendly wave and smile from Mathilde, Babaouo, very pleased with himself, starts up the car again.
The car is now seen going down a hill boarded by a thick forest.
Suddenly, without warning, Mathilde throws herself at Babaouo and ferociously buries her teeth in his neck.
Babaouo lets go of the wheel. The car crashes into a tree.
The car is completely smashed. Mathilde, thrown a distance of ten feet, is inert. Babaouo pulls himself with difficulty from under the wreck. He rubs his eyes. He is blind; He feels about him with his hands, veinly calling from Mathilde.
"Renacimiento" faintly is background.
Babaouo crawls on hands and knees, feeling trembling for the body of Mathilde.
Finally he comes upon a shoe ten feet away from her, which he supposes is still on her foot.
Sure that he has found Mathilde, he feels farther, and coming upon a tire which has been out in half, he thinks it is her leg. Hardly daring to touch Mathilde's body with his hands, trembling at the thought of feeling her head and discovering, as he fears, that she is not breathing, he caresses a cushion which he mistakes for her stomach and breasts.
Then he grasps what he thinks is her head with its hair; but it is only the stuffing coming out in handfuls from a torn cushion in the middle of which are burning coals.
Overcome with emotion, Babaouo draws towards his lips the object he believes to be Mathilde's head, passionately uttering her name. Through his tears he murmurs all the endearing words he knows. "You are alive,' he says "I feel the warmth of your body." Suddenly with all this strength he clasps to himself the coals of the cushion, which is beginning to catch fire.
Horribly burned, he throws away the cushion, which is now all aflame and cries "Merde!"
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