Hi, dude. Good morning.
Hello.
Thank you.
Delicious. Thanks.
Yes. I'll take 403. With a view of the ocean.
Sorry. Your card was denied.
The machine says to cut it up.
Rebeca, right?
I'm thinking, now…
How can we help each other?
Give me a moment to check.
Thanks.
Misfortune
VICTORIA SIMONIAN EXPELLED
Galleon Fund million-dollar fraud
LATIN AMERICA vs. SIMONIAN
From: Rebe
Salmerón, right?
No, Miss, I don't have anyone under the name Salmerón.
Yes, you do. I saw him in room 147.
He's about 6 feet tall, 30 years old, handsome.
Probably his only good quality, you know.
No, I'm positive.
We have nobody under the name Salmerón.
RECEPTION
Is it him?
No.
Miss, you can't take my cellphone.
Michi…
-Miss... -Did you fuck?
Amazing, right?
-Yes... -I mean.
Most men don't know what a clitoris is, but he sure paid attention in sex ed.
I…
Relax. Breathe.
Here's a suggestion.
If you help me,
I won't tell your supervisor.
Police!
Where's the key? Open it up!
Assholes.
Look on the balcony.
Punk! That's how I wanted to find you.
Dignity, gentlemen, please.
Can I at least put my pants on?
Unlike his contemporaries,
the painter Prida was a revolution, and not only in Mexican art.
He expressed his identity and pre-Colombian background
-by experimenting with... -It's an error.
That's what happens if you don't pay.
-Take the cuffs off. I'm no criminal. -No.
-How embarrassing. -You were hiding.
That's embarrassing. Walk.
What a bitch.
…the first to exceed 10 million dollars at an international auction.
No…
Who had the great idea of using plastic candles?
The wind blows them out.
No, I want wax.
-Take care of it, please. -Okay.
What's this?
No, a swan. Kill it.
I don't want it to look like a Sanborn Café.
There are two chipped chairs that need to be changed, please.
Hello?
What are you doing?
Getting ready for a party.
MARTIN COUNTY JAIL FLORIDA, USA
What's that?
Enrique Iglesias.
You and your sister used to listen to it.
Dad…
I'm okay, love.
No, you're not.
You need a real fucking doctor.
And stop eating that shitty food. I swear I'll get you out.
Victoria, what's up?
You did half your sentence. You're free if I pay half the bail.
I have a plan.
You won't find 100 million dollars behind the sofa.
I know. This isn't just any sofa, Dad.
It's the Urquiza fortune.
Fede Urquiza is opening a modern art museum
that will move hundreds of millions.
But he's an idiot who has no idea what he's doing.
Guess who is going to infiltrate the foundation?
Everything's under control.
Do you want the Pollock?
Yes, I want the Pollock.
I'm bogged down with a load of paperwork at the moment.
-Are you the CEO? -No... Yes, I'm the CEO.
Why wasn't it announced?
Well, right. Right.
I'm done explaining. Can you go to the auction?
Please, go to the auction.
-Okay. Okay. -Thanks.
Things are going back to how they were.
Have you seen Chumpi?
He left with his cousins yesterday. He won't pick up.
No, why? What's today?
Rafa, come on. I spoke to the DJ.
You can play from 10 to 11, but it's not a rave.
Chumpi's family wants reggaeton and banda.
-Actually, I'm not sure… -What?
-Nothing. -…if I'm available.
-What? -They want me to play at Burning Man.
-You're fucking kidding. -Can I go?
-Sure. -Really? I'm her sister.
It's my party, and you prefer to play for drug addict millionaires?
-Well… -Go fuck yourselves!
Keep laughing, Rafaela.
This makes no sense.
What happened at the hotel was a misunderstanding.
Can we speak as gentlemen?
No, we can't.
Unless it's about bail.
I haven't had time to call the bank. This can be solved.
Fix it when you're out.
-But… -Sit down, asshole.
Hi.
Have you ever seen Satan's throat?
I haven't had the pleasure. But if you get any closer, I'll see yours.
Time goes very slowly in here.
No kidding.
Leticia.
I want a table with a breeze.
Vicenta gets a sweaty upper lip.
Whatever you say, Leticia.
The person you're calling isn't available.
Please leave a message after the beep.
Where the hell are you, Chumpi Mendoza?
What's the deal here? No food or what?
Like a fucking piece of bread.
A glass of water for the nerves, candy, almonds, something.
This is no restaurant, asshole.
I'll give you a cock.
Is it the one you're sitting on?
What?
Respectfully, sorry.
Hey...
Shouldn't you be at your party?
Michi Montefusco. We met at the polo match.
Remember?
Let's see.
Shit, son of a bitch.
Yes. How could I forget your face from the golden era of cinema?
Those times. How could I forget?
It doesn't matter now. It's too late.
I can't bribe these assholes.
-If you tell them who you are... -No.
What the hell will I say? I told them, but they don't give a damn.
It was my fucking lunatic cousins, drunk in the street,
preparing me for my bachelor party.
Those assholes arrived and got me. They took my wallet, cell... Well, dude.
Great cousins you have.
I'd rather rot in here than drop names and fucking hand out money.
You want money? Work, assholes!
I fell in love a few years ago.
Her name was Francesca.
Italian.
Her eyes like honey, her skin olive.
I was just a boy visiting my ancestors' land.
Wanting to savor every moment in life.
We agreed to meet at the Plaza de Santa Ana in Madrid.
I was running late, dreaming about our date.
I really don't remember if it was being in a hurry or nerves
that made me take the subway without a ticket.
And of course, they fucking caught me on the way out.
What else could I do?
I had no way to contact her.
Half a mile away from my love,
the police arrested me without compassion for my pain.
So, ashamed but with a teen's passion,
refusing to get lost in his muse's song…
that's how this sad sonnet ends.
I had no choice, you see, but to reveal the identity
of my real father to resolve the issue.
Hey, out of curiosity,
who was your father?
My father, you ask?
None other than the Count of Montefusco.
The Count of Monte Cristo?
Shut up, assholes. Let him talk.
My grandfather's bastard grandson, loved by Juan Carlos.
No.
JC? The king?
The very same. Yes.
Hey, and...
And then? What happened? With the girl?
Nothing, my friends.
Nothing happened.
I got there, but Francesca was sharing a milkshake with a guy.
Our hearts separated forever.
Fucking police screwing things up.
They're expecting twins.
But it was worth it.
Because a gentleman, though his code prohibits it,
must let his heart speak up for love.
Shit, man. Fucking prince of Monte Cristo.
Cop! Hey, come here.
What the hell now?
Come.
Look. Give me your hand.
Pleasure. Chumpi Mendoza, at your service.
I declare myself innocent of this misdemeanor.
My fiancée, Inés Urquiza, is waiting for me.
You're marrying Urquiza? Great.
Avoid the hassle and open up.
She knows the governor's daughter, so just let me out of here.
You want to lose your job? Go on, troublemaker.
Go on, then.
My things?
What things?
Let's go.
He's coming with me.
Why him?
-Did you not hear he's a prince? -No. A count.
Same thing.
Come on, fuck this shit.
Your majesty.
Thank you.
Please.
So you know Letizia?
Sure.
We met a few times. Cab driver's granddaughter.
Right. No, she…
-Now she's in the magazines. -Yes.
Family! Cheers!
-Yes! -You see?
Have you seen Chumpi? I've called him ten times.
Darling, don't worry.
-Men are often late. -He's not late.
He said he was coming and he's not answering.
No, don't frown. Have a drink.
-Chino! Javier! -What?
Come and pour a drink for the girl!
-I'm really anxious. -This will help.
It lightens your heart and eases your mind.
Sit down. Rest. Have a seat.
Go on, it'll do you good.
-All the way. -That's it!
I can't believe they took the Pollock.
An oligarch made a pre-auction offer.
-What? -He wasn't even at the auction.
-And now? -I need someone who knows what to do.
A museum isn't a museum without a Pollock.
Why not buy a Jeff Koons?
No, it's too pop.
It's a serious museum.
I can ask my cousin who works in a Parisian gallery,
but a Pollock is hard.
But not impossible.
No, not impossible.
-Inés, wait. -Call.
I can't talk to the Secretary of Security.
Why not?
He has more important things to do.
-He's missing. -No, Inés.
-See? No answer. Please. -Listen.
Marriage is a fucked-up institution.
Rafa, this is really not the time.
-Enough. He'll turn up. -Call again.
-I just did!
-Rafa, call again. -The same office?
The same office.
He has arrived The one you were crying for
Enough, Luis Alberto!
Damn. I told you, if she calls me by my name, I'm screwed.
Come on!
Sorry, Mother-in-law.
Don't kiss me!
-You crossed the line. -Wait for me to tell you.
-What were you doing in jail? -You didn't know.
It changes your face. This prince helped me get out.
I'm here thanks to him. Tell them.
-Yes, we were... -No, the poems...
Better than Octavio Paz and Pablo Neruda. What was that street?
Enough, Chumpi. The guests are waiting.
Why don't you get changed and we'll…
We'll wait.
Yeah, but…
-Yes. Let's go. -Where?
What were you doing in jail?
I have an idea.
Give me your number so I don't lose you.
Okay?
Yes.
I have an idea too.
Give me your number so I don't lose you. How's that?
-Okay. -Okay.
Hey, kids!
-What's up? -Son!
You're finally here!
What's up, Mom?
You are representing your father. Don't leave me alone.
Please, just relax. They're not criminals.
No.
They just like shouting.
We haven't thanked you.
We're very excited, ma'am!
Seeing my son with your daughter is like seeing a flower in bloom.
This woman here is brutally honest!
Yes, well, it's a pleasure
to have you all here.
Chumpi, welcome to the family.
Thank you, my mother-in-law. You're always such a great host.
One day we'll repay you with lots of children.
-Yes! -That's my boy!
Cheers!
-Cheers, family! -Maybe twins.
Cheers, family!
Anything you need, whenever…
-Andrew! -Hey!
-How's it going? -What's up, man?
-What's up, bro? How are you? -How are you?
Good, you?
Great. I don't know your girlfriend.
Because I'm not his girlfriend.
You make a great couple.
-Really? -Yes.
Well, we do have great conversations.
Yes, sorry. Marie Claire, Michi. Michi, Marie Claire.
-Marie Claire? Is that French? -Yes.
-My grandparents were. -Okay.
Michi? A cat's name.
-Don't say that. -A dog's.
They've always called me that.
Great story. Excuse me.
No, don't…
-Nice to meet you. -Same.
7 million dollars for this shit? It's awful, right?
Fede just spends and spends.
I've been Communications Director for seven years,
and Fede has never set foot in an Urqui factory.
Literally never.
Me neither. Disgusting, right?
Yes, but you're not going to be CEO.
I don't know.
It wouldn't surprise me.
The only thing missing from my résumé is a penis.
Such bullshit! It's obvious.
Leticia has to solve this. But she won't, so I will.
To the bull, to the bull!
It's overwhelming to see you overwhelmed.
It's hot, right?
What are you doing here?
What do you want?
If possible, for you to die.
Too late.
Let's see.
Let me guess.
The puppy eyes, the aristocratic show...
The widow.
Well, I'm impressed. How long have you been a prostitute?
You're wrong. Nobody leaves money by my bed.
No. They pay you in kind, which is worse.
And you?
-What? -What?
Let's talk about you. Your little "fuck me" dress.
Beautiful.
The look of a hungry panther.
Who is it?
-That idiot? -God.
Who is it? His friend?
Don't fuck with me.
The son?
Federico?
-Yes, that's very clear. -Yes.
From almost Harvard to almost whore.
Careful, Victoria.
When you're nervous, your pits sweat.
You smell of failure.
Don't forget that I'm much smarter than you, dude.
Sorry, Victoria.
So that you never forget how stupid I am.
You like my ring. I fucking love you.
Come here.
Sorry.
-Sorry. -It's just...
Shit! You can see everything. You...
Don't you have cellulite?
Why?
No, we all have cellulite.
-Right? -Yes.
That's why I love you. Come.
-I'm... Cover yourself. -Okay.
-There it is. -Are you okay?
Thanks.
Hey! I know you.
Or you look like someone.
I don't think so. You're mistaken.
You look like the asshat who robbed me.
Salmerón.
I don't know what you're talking about.
I said I don't know what you're talking about. Understood?
Now, if you'll excuse me.
If they knew what you were thinking… You're going to hell.
I doubt you know what I'm thinking.
Does this little lady dance?
No, thank you. I don't, but my daughter does.
Don't take it personally. My mom is very boring.
Come on, honey! What do you like?
They're having fun.
Yes.
-You going to dance? -No.
I don't know how to dance to this.
Me neither, actually.
You look like you prefer something more timeless.
Like loafers and a Shetland sweater
on a street in Paris, right?
Well, not today's Paris.
No, no.
In the seventies.
Wait.
How would you know? You weren't born.
I have to attend to my guests.
You came!
Seems I couldn't miss it.
Are you going to stay closer?
Careful. Get too close to the sun and you'll burn.
I tripped. See what you do to me?
Let's see.
Keep it. It looks way better on you.
-Really? -Yes.
Thanks, you're a lifesaver.
Shit, it's my song. Take what you want, okay?
Thanks.
Your sister lent me the dress…
And the earrings. It's a very long story.
It looks good.
Shall we go?
Do you like art?
I love art.
He had nothing to prove.
What do you mean?
I think other artists only lived to prove their pure pre-Hispanic aesthetic,
but Prida had it in his blood.
He's my favorite artist. I love him.
Actually, I want it for the foundation's museum.
You have a museum?
Well…
Imagine the first thing you see when you walk in
is the Prida.
I mean, it's my mother's.
That's why it was brought here, so nobody steals it.
I would hide it, too.
You're both mean!
Is your collection complete?
Yes. Well, no. It's not easy.
The art world is a maze, right?
Just today I lost one.
I'm sure my dealer is playing for both teams.
Do you know the modern definition of a pirate?
-What? -Art dealer.
-Art dealer? -I have someone the same.
Have you heard about the Caravaggio
that appeared in someone's house in Madrid?
Is he your friend?
It's a she. From boarding school.
Where did you go?
Atlantic. You?
Aiglon, right?
Yes. How did you know?
-Nothing better to read at the salon. -No.
Look, the HOLA magazine thing was my mom's idea.
-Sure. -No, I swear.
You look a bit stiff on the cover.
Stop, it's embarrassing!
Don't worry. Look, come.
I can introduce you, okay? She's great.
She knows about classics, and she also has Basquiats,
Kusamas, Pollocks.
-Pollock? -Yes.
-Really? -Yes.
I'd love to, but...
-Yes? -Yes.
-Fuck. -What?
-What nerve. -What?
My ex-girlfriend with her new guy, a director of shitty cinema.
-Okay. -Sorry.
Some nerve, right, Cristina?
Fede, don't talk to me like that.
Some nerve.
-Cheers. -Cheers.
It's not the same as the drawings. This was wood, not painted plywood.
But it's the same as the floor.
-You can't tell. -The lights. Like a taco place.
I don't want you to make the same mistakes at the wedding.
No, of course not.
How do I know?
No, the lights go.
Yes.
Do you dance to this?
Mom, what the hell is wrong with you?
He could be your son! Everyone's watching. At my party.
What if he's after money?
-Ridiculous! -Why's Cristina here?
What? She can't be my friend 'cause you broke up?
-Such loyalty! -Grow up, Fede!
What now?
-What? -What do you mean?
Stop.
You're a good dancer.
I'd dance all night.
With you? Yes.
I can't take all the credit myself.
The story ended up telling itself.
We were just a vehicle who dared to listen.
Don't be modest, honey. Everyone in Cannes went crazy.
Yes, but it was Cannes.
Hey, Luis.
What about the people who say your movie is a misery porno?
Fede, thanks for the invite, bro.
No, no. It was my sister, not me.
Look, Federico, envy is interesting, but I prefer the truth.
What do you know about that?
I'm talking about truth that can't hide poverty.
What is the value in telling
the same story about the same rich, privileged people?
Luis, a question.
What does poverty look like from the fifth floor of Hôtel Martinez?
Yes. They applauded me in Cannes.
Cool.
Thanks, but I didn't need help.
-I'll stop if you want. -No.
Don't stop.
What are you doing tomorrow?
90th minute, and zero goals on the board.
What a shame. We'll miss you.
Have you not heard?
Tonight, Camila and I are going to the ranch,
and the rest of the family is coming tomorrow.
What ranch?
Don't be sad.
You got rid of this puppy dog sooner than you thought.
Or was it the other way round?
I have to go. The jet's waiting and I'm late.
-Good night. -Fuck you!
Fede's Friend Andrés