Boca

King of Boca?

Hiroito?

No, never.

Boca has no king.

Boca never had a king.

And if it ever did, it's me.

Hiroito.

Hiroito, open up.

Come on, open up.

Hiroito. Hiroito. Hiroito, open up.

Let's go, kid. Let him be.

Bom Retiro Red Light District,

Sao Paulo, 1952

My first encounter with a prostitute

happened when I was in year 8.

Osmar, my best friend at the time,

was the one who took me there.

My first visit with a whore,

when the red- light district was still open,

took place without the police interfering

with my intentions.

And I liked it.

I mean, I liked it a lot.

From that day on,

if I had the necessary 5 bucks,

I would immediately go

to Itaboca and Aimors Streets

and stroll past those window displays

where a multitude of women

of all kinds offered themselves.

It's true that the act of love there,

in the condition of a paying customer,

was nothing more than a mechanical act,

without any trace of romance.

In those horrible days,

the bachelors did not have access

to the enormous variety of women

that are out there today.

Those were difficult times.

The closing of the red- light district

and the relocation of all the women

to the hotel area of Campos Elseos

did not appease my young male instincts,

it just changed my direction.

Come here, darling.

How much do you charge?

Nothing.

I don't take customers at this hour.

What do you mean?

Are you going to turn me down?

Look, I pay well.

I said it's not business hours.

Excuse me, I have a lot of things to do.

- You playing hard to get?

- Hey! What the hell?

Hey, beautiful, you playing hard to get?

Leave me alone, you pig!

Let go of me! Get away!

- Let me go! Get away!

- Are you nervous? Shameless whore.

Let me go!

- Let me go, you wretch!

- Shameless whore.

- You nervous, f***ing whore?

- Get away!

I'm going to shoot. I'm going to shoot!

No, I've had enough.

You eat. You're so skinny.

No, this is it. This is my thing.

Not for me.

That's enough drinking.

Six drinks.

Six drinks in less than one hour!

Listen to me, Hiroito.

If your mother is patient

and treats you well, that's her problem,

but I'm watching you.

You don't do anything.

You just eat, drink and sleep!

And read!

Read to cure the hangover!

Listen to me.

Tell me something.

How do you get so much money

for your parties?

Well...

I work, at night.

You work? At night?

I work in the same line of business

as you, beverages.

I'm just starting.

Actually, I control the menu

of some downtown restaurants.

I wanted to talk to you about that later.

What restaurant, for example?

We'll talk about that later, Dad.

In private, at your office,

I'll take an appointment with you.

I haven't got the time now.

- Excuse me, Mom.

- Take care, my son.

How much is it?

One hour, 1,000 bucks, plus 300 for the room.

Too expensive.

Can you give me a discount?

There is no discount.

I'll tell you what, then.

Everybody in the same room, right, Osmar?

Yeah, we're old friends.

We've known each other

since we were kids. Come on.

No way. Who do you think we are?

And now, the police news.

Today, July 8, 1957,

the body of Greek entrepreneur

Dr Gilberto Joanides was found.

He was brutally murdered with a knife.

The scene of the crime

was the victim's office,

on Andradas Street at the corner

of Timbiras Street.

The deputy in charge of the police

department's newly created homicide unit

promised the public the case

would be solved as soon as possible.

Amaral,

I want you to bring me this son of a b*tch.

We are going to inaugurate

this place in style.

All right.

Hiroito?

Your turn.

Where were you

when your father was murdered?

Why? Am I a suspect now?

I'm the one asking questions here!

I was at home, reading.

Is it true that you've killed someone else

before your father?

I didn't kill my father!

I'm talking about the other homicide,

two months ago.

I was acquitted.

It was self-defence.

Self-defence?

Do you know how many bullets

you shot at the guy in self-defence?

Twelve.

Hiroito.

Good morning, my name is Pricles,

I'm a reporter for the Dirio da Noite.

Can I talk to you?

I can't now.

The police are talking about patricide.

What do you have to say?

I would never kill my father.

We can talk later.

Look, here's my card, give me a call.

I really want to hear your version of the facts.

Thank God!

What did they do to you?

You're all bruised, my son! What happened?

It's all right, Mom.

It's all right.

The killer is going to show up

and everybody will shut up.

Don't you worry.

- It's nothing to me.

- Hiroito.

Dolores.

You're coming home now, aren't you?

I don't know, Dolores.

We need you here.

Who knows?

Some journalists called looking for you.

How absurd!

That's disrespectful.

Mrs Yuki, please.

Okay, I'll go get her.

You can come in.

Chubby, bring bag.

May I?

Good one.

Here, look.

Here.

F***ing hell, Jap, you really suck.

Here, look. Like this.

Do you really suck or are you blind?

Jap!

I said I'm not Japanese, you son of a b*tch!

Come on, shoot!

Shoot, son of a b*tch!

But don't hit the lamp!

Come here with us.

What's up?

Put that down, kid.

I'm going to pretend I didn't see that.

My name is Hiroito. What's yours?

Vicente.

Cool name.

Listen, Vicente,

where's your mother?

I don't have a mother.

What do you mean?

Everybody's got a mother.

I ran away. She beat me too much.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes