 Es que ahí tienen los pelos, ¿no? Mejora la cara. Joe, ¿qué es lo que se ve, Bebo? ¿Puedo leer la dirección? Ok, ok. ¿De acuerdo? ¿De acuerdo? Sí, lo haré en la dirección de la dirección, desde el principio. ¿De acuerdo? Sí, ¿tienes que decir cuando empezamos? Oh, ok. Eso es divertido. En cada lado de la dirección hay una mirada de la audiencia. Cada mirada es cubierta por un gauz, uno mirando hacia el cielo suelto y el otro hacia la oscuridad. Una cadena expensiva en la dirección de la dirección donde Evita se crujó a la flora fránticamente buscando en el suelo. Ella trae un mincote, vestidos de los brazos altos, un brazo rompido, y un poco de maquillaje. Evita suma a la oscuridad, un troncete. ¿Este es tu? Papi. Papito, Daddy. Dad. Papi. Padre, Papá. Estas palabras me estrenan... la completidad. Todas mis vidas me asustaron a ti. Lo que hace a mí es que me asustara. Lo que hace a mí es que me asustara. Tú me hiciste algo que era mi, pero que no podía tener la desconectad. Ahora te escuchas, como si los millones de años se desolvieron, estando altos, y estando afuera en el río, alto, distinguido y solido. El viento despejece sus vidas junto con mi madre en pif, y llena a la clave de los estornos de despejece. ¿Para mi última dimensión de encontrar a ti? ¿Qué podría ser mejor? Alguien entró en el troncete. Antes de encontrarla, voy. El roncete. Estos son los sonidos de agua del suelo. Estoy en el troncete. Oh. Perdóname. No lo vi aquí. Distractado por los sonidos, los sonidos, los colores, la glútea glútea de Dios me estuporó. Excepto por este roncete. ¿Estás en el troncete? ¿Me? Nunca verás a mí en el troncete. No quiero tenerla en contra de nadie. Estuve aquí primero. ¿Qué significa eso? Así que estoy después de ti. ¿Estás esperando para el troncete? ¿Hay un troncete? Tal vez es para cruzar el río. Supongo. Solo va a mostrar cuánto más tengo que saber. Los seducimientos, incluso aquí, es una causa para el troncete. Voy en esa dirección, hacia la sección del puerto, donde estoy originalmente. Y siempre voy de vuelta con buena intención. Tienes que ser cold. No soy cold. ¿Cuánto tiempo has estado aquí? No más. No importa lo que hay aquí. ¿Qué estás haciendo en el grado? He perdido la herenda que necesita ser encontrada. ¿Estás segura de que está aquí? Sí. He empezado a darme mi amor a Juan. Él dice que los diamantes son una belleza incómoda y un brillante imperishable. Como yo, dice. ¿Nunca la flor de los arrojones en esta? Lo mejor es encontrar la otra. ¡Va a ver donde estés! Puedes poner tus manos o despliegarlo. Los arrojas pueden estar alrededor. ¿Has dicho que son arrojas? Bueno, en cualquier lugar que escuchas el sonido de un rato, el rato es un rato rato de un rato de los arrojones. Tengo que encontrar mi estrés expensivo. Pero si no, voy a figurear algo. Yo estoy segura de que voy a figurear algo, si no, creo que voy a hablar de un rato grande. ¿Es eso el juego que estás jugando? No me preocupa, no hay nada que hacer con el rato. Las únicas diamantes que verán aquí son los espacios en el cielo donde los ángeles vayan. Los mensajeros que les dan la vida para la humanidad, sacan de participar en una guerra contra tyrannía. Voy a decir, un rato salió con un rato, pero no le dejé el rato con los dos. Él estaría parte de mí, y no me quedaría tan mal. Aquí no te vas a encontrar el rato ni el otro rato. El juicio precioso es en las manos de un joven juicio que decían que eran originalmente sus hijas. No tengo ni idea de lo que estás hablando. El enemigo es vial y trecheroso. Los mensajeros traen sus vidas y empiezan sus fiestas sabiendo que la guerra fue a la muerte. Para cada corazón, una promesa de vengenza fue elevada a la justicia y a la honor de nuestra muerte. Soy sólo una mujer simple que vive a servir Juan y a mis personas. ¡Viva Perón! Es correcto. La primera mujer de Argentina una mujer self-made que servía a sus personas, su esposa y su país. ¿Y tú? ¿Quién eres? ¡Oh! ¡Ni una serie! Soy como ese butterfly que finalmente es libre de su coco earthly. Exquisitamente emergiendo de una estación catarpilar de grandes metamorficos a través de un cristal de gran gracia. Aquí. Es magazine de tiempo y en la cubana es mi evita en la cubana de magazine de tiempo. He hecho esto. Pueden usar un fotógrafo real en vez de esta interpretación de caricature. Sólo va a mostrar cómo afraidan de mi realidad. ¿Sabes, los gringos al norte? ¿Cómo descenderán? ¿Cuándo le obligan a celebrar a su propio lado? Es un paro de mí. La moda de panche también ha sido mi. El alcohol le mató a los pobres. Y la educación lo salvó. ¿Educación me dio el poder, inteligencia y poder? No más de la fuerza que a articular convenciéndole. El poder de la palabra y el idioma. Quiero aportarte a tu cote, pero supongo que mi esposa debe tener las marcas de aquí. A casa tengo fag de rojo, de leper y de rama y echinilla que es mi tiempo favorito. ¿Puedes creer que el rodón del norteamericano es el raro sufrido de los pobres? El echinilla es el único rodón que está cerca de tu extinción. ¿Cómo divertido es eso? Esto que estoy usando es mink. Estoy bien. ¿De verdad? Gracias. Por cierto, esta es tu casa ahora. Aje de cote. Mi voz sufre que no puedo por eso. A mi gente me gusta escucharme hablar. ¿Vas a ver los descamizados? Las personas sin suerte siempre preparadas para algo, todo, para mí. Evita, pero. ¿Es la entrada? ¿Es la manera para la entrada? La única manera es la primera clase. Ah, no estoy tan especial. Sigue conmigo. No estoy feliz. No, y no entonces. Aquí, ahora, uno pide las diferencias de la tierra. ¿Cómo diferente podríamos ser? El oposito completo, en realidad. Yo soy santa Evita de Argentina. Lo sé. Lo voy a usar con frío. Too much pride turns into self-centeredness. Erick, conceit, egotism, vainglory, vanity, self-obsession, superiority and self-defeat. I'm done with those forces of nature, the suffering, pomp and circumstance. I'm making this my home without order, time nor form. Just intense brilliance. Chocolate? No, thank you. You sure? It's finger-licking good. Evelyn can be so lonely. A lot of fine conversation is like used by my side. Juan was worried for my journey and repeated to me, stay mysterious and play the rise. That makes for a lot of fun. It's a lot of fun. It's a lot of fun. advice Just for those of simple mind? Do you remember the journey getting here? Solobler Disconservantine and a bit of scary. I have to say, I got lost along the way. Well, still you made it without having gone astray. So many things have vanished in the hay. la mente que quiere dejar de ir, ¿no viste el espectro de colores mergulando, la luz blanda, la luz blanca, creciendo, absorbiendo, adentrando en un camino negro, el tamaño de un pinjón, donde empezaste a sentir más lento y más lento, freer y freer, más lento y más lento, más lento y más lento, hasta este momento de nada. Ve tu nombre de nuevo. Oh, eso es correcto. Soy Dolores, Dolores Ibarruy. Su nombre es familiar. Perdón mi memoria. Me encuentro a muchas personas todos los días. ¿Me supongo que reconozco a ti? No, no es tan bien. Todo con tu parece bien. Por eso me recuerda. Por mí? Es un recuerdo de los que lo suelen. Un habilitado hipercrito. Espérate, Envy. Tu amor y el arreglo. ¿Sabes cómo cuando you're awake and you think you can't remember? Pero luego, el fóclico... Lea tus ideas al lugar en el que la guión está en riesgo? Mi venganza suena a ver sus vidas fieles... Pueden romper sus brazos con la chica... De mi distinción. Bueno, sus ácidas son de su tamaño pedestre. Tu recuerdas un sueño... Más lleno de mentiras. No somos de tierra más. El drama está terminado, por supuesto. Aquí. A la chica. Estoy intoxicada como es. Hay que tener más sustancias que esto. Mi última parte de chocolate. Mi última parte de placer. Siempre es difícil imaginar lo que viene después. Un día de julio en 1952... Suepoía mi cadena y escuchaba a mi programa español en Mosca Radio. La noticia se anunció. Evita Perón... Había muerto. Estaba estando y pensé, ¿por qué? ¿Cómo puede eso ser? Más joven y vital, casi 33 años. El radio anunció una respuesta a alguna conspiración... ...describiendo Argentina's disconcerting ache... ...of a nations millions lost and bereft... ...keeping wake. Mira a mí. ¡Va ahead! ¡Túchame! ¡Va ahead! ¿Puedes ver que estoy vivo? ¡Impatiente! ¡Espenso puede ser! ¿Sabes de tu maldad? Puedes decir... ¡Vamos a limitar esta conversación de historias de exultación! No hay crimen. Quiero, mrs. Perón, que lo llegue en este momento. ¡Por favor, conmigo, evita! Si no lo quieres. Acabamos. Fue famoso. Y luego murimos. Para mi gente siempre está vivo. Simple. Evita. Evita. ¡All right! ¡Túchame! Me presenté a la gente con la norma. ¡Túchame! Yo tenía la ciudad de Buenos Aires... ...con mi portugués. En un gran lugar en el red. ¿Cómo fue eso? ¿Entendiste el nombre Evita? Oh, sí. Yo prefiero ser simple, Evita. Y no... ...la esposa de la presidenta. Y luego salió. Si, Evita, es para ser usada... ...para mejorar las condiciones... ...de mis personas en sus hogares. Muy bien, Evita. Calculación. Así que... ...susurro que esa misma... ...incuenta droga de ambición... ...y una fuerza de poder florida. Lo que hice fue... ...de necesidad. Un instinto pura... ...de una persona profunda... ...de una existencia impobrida. La corrupción vino... ...de queriendo dar a otros la esperanza... ...de la visión de solidaridad... ...y para mejorar las vidas de los trabajadores. Así que me tomé la acción. A mí también. A mí... ...é mi esposa... ...que motivó a mi activista. Juan siempre explicó... ...que cuando estaba impresionado... ...de la militaría... ...é yo... ...y fue yo... ...que nunca salió... ...until fue liberado. Cuando las personas empezaron a caer... ...y la militaría empezó a perder su poder... ...y eso es cuando hicimos... ...Mr. y Mrs. Perón... ...porque de mí. Los que buscan poder... ...al siempre se corrupen. Pero si las personas están unidas... ...no se va a perder. El ciclo vicioso continúa... ...until alguien se atrapa... ...y luego se despliega... ...de lado a lado. Ese es mi padre. Él hizo eso con mi madre... ...con mis ciudadanos... ...y yo. En el final, me atrapé bien. Just like everybody who dismisses... ...or denigrates me... ...I put up a fight. ¿Qué hiciste para mostrarlo? ¿Por qué? ¿Cómo? By taking from the rich... ...and giving to the poor. I read somewhere how the rich... ...popped open bottles of champagne... ...Cheering... ...long live cancer... ...was not in vain... ...while your corpse was still being drained. Champan! Mmm, so good! With a frizz grill asador... ...stick from las pampas... ...with a little champagne. Oh, Argentina... ...you water in my mouth. You haven't seen anything yet. I'm not interested in the end. There is no end. Eternity turns and turns. Did they really say those awful things about me... ...and cheer too? Better to die on one's feet... ...than to live on one's knees. Now I know who you are. Like you, a swollen transition... ...turning my eyes to other planes. No. You are a passionaria. That atheist red... ...that communist figurehead. That once-resolute anti-fascist... ...with a battle cry for a unified republic in Spain. Free, democratic and just. I am the salt of the Iberian earth... ...with a fierce voice of courage... ...mother of solidarity... ...symbol of heroism. Like me? You are the greatest female orator of our time. The voiceless spoke united through my rhyme. I was once in Spain... ...but you no longer were there. That's right. A fascist dictator... ...over through our republican government. So I exel to Russia. Fortunately, 35 years later he died. And I returned. It was... ...1947. Crows welcomed me at the airport in Madrid. People showered me with flowers... ...and messages of goodwill. And from out of that crowd... ...a little boy ran to me. I opened my arms to him, you know... ...as a symbolic gesture. Argentina embracing all of Spain. The young boy handed me a rose... ...along with the note... ...handwritten by him... ...paying me to save his mother's life. It read... ...they already killed my father. Now they plan to kill my mother. Only you can stop them, Evita. Please hope. His mother's name was Juan Adonia. She was captive in a prison cell... ...while her children were left motherless. Juan, that's right. My mother's name too. To be told, that name was what gave me the impulse. Juan embodied... ...my vulnerable mother. Imagine if everyone personified our mother... ...our sister, our brother. How much better that world would be... ...since we're all vulnerable like she. It felt good... ...to influence Spain's head of state. My courageous request rang loud... ...before that fair dictator. He complied. I think as a sign of gratitude... ...for my visit to his shunt country... ...I could tell, he resented my force of hand. You drew out a strain of compassion... ...from Franco, who was unacquainted with that... ...contraído act. That was a moment as an unprecedented act. For that act, Argentina was awarded... ...much grandeur. The poor served you well, Evita. Your shirtless ones. Yes. I developed a reciprocal relationship with the poor... ...that still gives me all the more reason to leave. ¿In that earthly world? All effort goes to being acknowledged. Half my life was spent portraying dolores. Then I suddenly became La Pasionaria. Toward the end, I understood... ...it's all one karma. But none, fully me. Evita is me all right. I remember to clearly they climb up the mountain top... ...and never give that up. Not even to merge with the divine? You're an atheist. How did you speak of such signs? I told you, it's the clinging and defending our battles... ...that bring us down to size. Life is conflicting, in a constant paradox... ...not to stand in the midst would be a dishonor. Precisely in the midst is where balance is found. No. It's in the extremes where heroes and saints abound. Oh, that's right. You're one of those. My people endorsed me. Safeguarding Nazi war criminals is sainthood to you? Oh, that. That was simply a coordinated effort with the very pop himself. En Franco, who single-handedly secured their transfer... ...to fruitful, safe Argentinian ground. Politics is a complicated matter, Pete. I know that, Eve. Evita, please. I was acting on my teeth's behalf. Come on, Evita. You won't take responsibility for sticking to your husband's bleak path. It's not quite that unrestrained. But just enough. A political leader of my stature cannot allow emotions to dominate. Argentina has a common economic self-interest... ...when committed to welcoming anyone with a mind for medicine, science, math... ...and finance, and of course, choose are always appreciated. How inclusive. They're not discriminated. Anyone who contributes productively is welcomed. But we just don't like pops. Oh, but righteous murderers are accepted by this Catholic saint. This Catholic saint was authenticated by her people. Millions of people died in those criminal hands. Am I here to be judge? We're simply reawakening. Try to understand how their charge can be a stock... ...between a rock and a hard place. A small village in Holland named Newland... ...and another in the south of France named the Chambon Souliño... ...unaware of each other, agreed to rescue and hide... ...one Jewish family per home. They were propelled by empathy from a memory of their own... ...when suffering the Christians barbaric attack centuries ago... ...during the Crusades. ¿Qué es la estrategia de la providencia de conocerte aquí y ahora? Nunca es por la oportunidad. Es un corazón a corazón. Esto se ha convertido. ¡Nos hemos entrado en la verdad! Y nuestro amor es uno. No estoy segura de lo que entiendo, pero... ...tienes rabia. ¡Estoy plasando! La verdad, ¿no? ¡Tienes miedo en mí! ¿Por qué? Porque me gusta la vida. ¿Donde todo va a pasar las emociones? ¿Listar a la lista dice si en la muerte? Aquí podemos despertar la ilusión de que la fe es falsa... ...la guerra, la violencia, la miseria, la fama, la desgracia... ¡Evita! Yo también tengo miedo. ¡El tren me viene! ¡Eso es lo que tenemos que saber! ¡Tienes miedo de ti mismo! ¡Listar a mí! Siempre tengo que hacer cosas. Ojalá podamos también. ¿Tenemos un juego? ¡De acuerdo! No estamos aquí solo para pasar el tiempo y... ¿Tenemos? Dime más sobre mí... ...y el final del gran final... ...en el final de mi vida. Bueno... Suposamente, tu vidrio en el funeral de Estado... ...fue tan grande y desgraciado... ...que 7 personas murieron. ¿De verdad? ¿Qué diversiones? Todo el que quiera tocar... ...Evita es un cuerpo eternamente bombado. Todo? Así que estoy preservada por la eternidad. No es eterno. No está ahí. No es segura. No es segura tu cuerpo. Tu insides. Tu rostro... ...y tu escalp. Mi escalp? ¿Dónde? Mierda al frente. ¿Te recuerdas tener un gran escarillo ahí? White ceiling. Cold. Voces frígidas en mi alrededor. Haces lugar en todo el lugar sobre mi cuerpo. Un rostro familiar... ...con su face mirando a mí. Mierda al frente. Un rostro negro... ...mierda en mi cabeza. Mi rostro anterior... ...un rostro en mi cabeza. Todo el rostro en mi cuerpo. Explosiones de fieses... ...en mi templo. Un ácido de licor. Suelo en el lento. Desindulcador... ...música... ¿Qué dices? ¿Qué fue eso, Evita? Fue un rostro... ...desindulcador... ...¿Qué dices? Un rostro. Mierda al frente. Lo que me dieron... ...con mi mano... ...y dices... ...no te refieres el dolor... ...mierda... ...mierda... ...no te refieres el dolor. ¿Verdad, Evita? ¿Cómo te refieres el dolor? Una cosa... ...que siempre sigue. Nuestra esencia... Nuestra consciencia... Nuestra verdad, nuestra amor... ¡Eso nunca morirá! Me siento mal... ...innovada... ...mierda... ¿Tienes que despliegarse? De nuevo y de nuevo. Déjame el reciclado de Caracas. Déjame el peor... ...como un frío puerto... ...reinventar... ...en el nuevo sol. ¿Por qué estás aquí? Estuve bien antes de que te vayas. Una no puede ser elevada... ...con el otro. Durante los últimos años... ...de mi gran vida... ...un príncipe catholic... ...dejó a mi lado... ...para guiarme... ...en el camino... ...para la reparación... ...y la departura. Pusqué a él... ...de nuevo y de nuevo. Hasta que me hiciera ver... ...cuanto intercambiado... ...el carma... ...es con el otro. ¿Entonces te vayas también? No de nada. Solo me vayas... ...no hay nada que hacer... ...con ismos más y más. Fascismo... ...comunismo... ...catholicismo... ...paranismo. Me perdí mi amor... ...un día en el funeral de mis padres. Cominando... ...en el camino... ...de mi hermano. Cuando la presta... ...intercambiado... ...porque casi casi... ...cominamente... ...pero porcierto... ...tablamos las manos... ...y nos pegamos... de la iglesia. Este hombre de la Iglesia explicó que la familia no podía aceptar la presencia entre ellos. Me respondí, pero... ¡Eso es mi papá! ¿Pretendió? No para escuchar a mi papá. Solo me llevó a mi madre esperando afuera. El abandono, una dimensión ilícita, no me impactó mucho en ese momento de publica y dignidad. Me juro de tomar control de mi vida desde ese momento. ¡Suscríbete! La inmigración. Es esa manipulación de arma potente. ¿No recuerdas a mamás como eso? Están todos en el pasado distinto. Estaba en casa, mi esposa y mi hija. Y mi hija Ruben en mis manos. Estaba preparando mi supe de árbol y garlanda. He escuchado un toque en la puerta. Y no notando que había un caro muy puerto, pensé que tenía que ser la policía, como usual. Yo abrié la puerta. Y hasta mi gran sorpresa, ahí, estando antes de mí, fue Donia Sebastiana Ugarte. Era la hija de una de las más ricas mamás en Vizcaya. Donia Ugarte, su hija, fue mi amigo hermana en la escuela primaria, hasta que fue enviada a la escuela en Francia. Donia Ugarte nunca me miraba. Recuerdo eso. Yo era la hija de una mamá, una hija simple de villas, que no hicieron nada a esta hija rica. Pero ahora, esta hija de villas se ha transformado en un voz de descenso que fue resonando a través de España. Yo ahora estaba engañada en el conflicto, como comunista denunciando la explotación desgraciada de las mineras. Donia Ugarte ¿Qué haces con Fright? Ahora, ella no me olvida en la desgraciada de ella y en la caída de mi rueda en la caída de la segunda edad, rastrojando su persona en la cara de nuestra misericordia. Hola. ¿Qué puedo hacer por ti? Por favor, venga. De esta manera. Ven, si quieres. ¿Qué sorpresa, Donia Ugarte? Hacemos un rostro, visitamos a amigos para decir hola a vosotros, para ver cómo vivimos y encontrar si podemos ser de alguna asistencia. No hay razón para ser sorpresas, Dolores. Asistencia. A mí. Bueno, esta es mi casa. Como pueden ver, no es una gran imagen. Pero, infortunadamente, no es una gran imagen, ni nada. Muchos otros vivieron como yo. Por favor, esta es nuestra vida. Hace tres meses, mi hija estérida murió. Tenía que comprar el dinero para la coja. Y antes de eso, vendí el dinero para las medicinas y la comida. La vida es una desgraciada. No hay absoluta felicidad en este mundo, Dolores. De hecho. Pero esta desgraciada es una desgraciada de absoluta desgraciada. Para nosotros, los trabajadores, que no possessan nada, pero tienen la fuerza en manos para que otros puedan explotar a nosotros para hacer de su vida un paradiso de absoluta prosperidad. No estoy resignado a vivir en esta desgraciada. Yo estoy engañada en el desgraciado para una vida mejor para todos. Y nosotros refugimos a dejar a nadie detrás. Eso es todo bien. Pero hasta una vida mejor para todos se puede hacer. ¿Pero por qué no quieres tener una casa confortable? ¿Un piso de tierra? ¿Un buen trabajo para tu marido? Y además, saludable. Y a los niños de la vida. No me voy a perder mi tiempo con estas fantasías. Dolores, escucha a mí. ¿Pero por qué no puedes transformar esa fantasía en realidad para ti? ¿En exchange para qué? Doña Sebastián. Una persona como tú no podría hacer una oferta, unless hay muy desgraciadas condiciones. ¿En exchange para qué? ¿En exchange para tu propia salvación de Dios? No hay nada más que ser en el curso de Heaven a todos. Abandon eso en un puerto, y regresa a tu religión. Yo estoy ofreciendo a hacerle a ti como contento como cualquiera puede ser en este mundo alienígeno. Me asustas con tu proposición inscrupulista. Go play fake missionary to the house next door, where two families with seven children barely survived the struggle through malnutricion. Offer them what you have offered me. And I promise you, I will be forever grateful. Tolores. Please understand that I want to help you because I know you. And remember how you and my daughter were friends. Since young I know your family so well. Of course you do. My father, all my brothers, my husband, and every man in my family has slayed for your husband. I don't know what life holds for me, but I choose to struggle on the road of education towards self-empowerment, equality and democracy. That is my only course of hope. How easily you've been poisoned and are reading the wrong books. I promise that I shall pray for your recovery, Dolores, because you you are going to need it. She rushed out my door as I yelled back. Do as you like, but you can't buy me off. Pentful moments away, cunning, mistrust. Moments that forced us to really feel the pain. How many children did you lose? Early on I lost four out of six. Some of the nuns were good to me. And tried all they could to save my babies from the grip of tuberculosis and hunger. Later, during the war, I secured their safety and brought to their hideout a beautiful painting of the Virgin Mother to protect them. Their humanness was soothing. Did you have a chance to become a mother? Yes. I, like my father, turned away from my own flesh and blood. I gave birth to a girl whose father was already married to another woman. Knowing that I wouldn't survive a new predicament, I accepted his wife's proposition. Because she couldn't have children of her own. She willingly accepted my baby as hers. Under one condition, that I disappeared completely. I know how I did that. I don't know. But I did. Now I must go and see her. She needs to know that I, Evita Perón, am her mother. I have to go. The truth is uncovered. One way or another. You can understand why, how I couldn't. The curse, the terrible curse of having free choice and not seeing that all is programmed already. For me, there was no other way. I wasn't capable that they were. They had everything. Stability, money and a home. You said... You said you died old. Why don't you look at? I don't. Maybe I prefer looking how I remember myself most. How I rather think of me and the time I felt a bit joyous and doting ecstasy. And how I hope he remembers me. He? Who is he? A man. A man. But not your husband? No. You loved him very much. Who knows what that was? Without love there is nothing. True. Look at you. Quite the whore. For the gain was mostly pain. ¿Everyone knew? They thought they knew what this un-adorned, non-forgiving, sober, fierce, freedom fighter could and could not do. It's easy to speculate, presume and judge. How old were you? Francisco was barely 24. I was 42. How defiant. Y aquí pensé que era tan raro. Cualquier mujer de espíritu debería perder su cabeza y su corazón para que el hombre haya perdido. No pensé en el destino. Si no puedes ayudarlo, lo mustes. Entonces el secreto es que estés tan cerca y privado. Aquí. No hay secreto. Se ha quedado unanalizado. ¿Es eso lo que va? Yo me estaba listo. Ahorita me hablo bien. Y, de la manera que me dices, adiós. En el otro lado, Avida, no se prepararon a ir. No tenías el tiempo para comprender los reglados de la naturaleza. El mundo aún te trae como si estés vivo. No dé su presión a una lado. Pero no estamos terminados con el otro. Los ríos sorprendidos nos ayudan a nuestro padre. Si solo nos relevan nuestros deseos... ¿Qué? Mi padre. El deseo más grande es para saber que un hombre como Juan me necesita en un país todo sin miembros. Necesito ir, si solo para mi bebé. ¿Tienes que ir sin ti? ¿Tienes que seguir tomando mis errores, por olvidar lo que es verdad? Dice que me recuerdan, aunque... Eso es el ego, el clínico y los deseos riendo por la puerta. ¿Qué te hace pensar que lo sabes tan mucho? Todas mis vidas han sido miembros y distintas, tocando a la corazón de las personas mientras se convierte en un bebé, y nunca el amor en un lado de la mano. Tienes que ser tenacious. Les doy eso. Ambicioso y crafty. Pero en el final, si nos hemos tocado, no vamos a dar la oportunidad. Tienes que tener suficiente de tus ideas. Pero ahora tengo otra vez más importante de mi propia. Si no te imagines que quiero contemplar como estoy aquí, en un camino para llegar a casa. Tengo cansado y confuso. Me he perdido mi Juan, mi trabajo, mi divertimiento, y todos los días que siempre he terminado mi conocimiento. Yo era una persona de nota, y esencialmente para el progreso de mi. Me siento como si se subiera. ¡Es tan real! ¿Qué Dios diría? Dios. Long ago, He turned away. Ella toma todo en cuenta. Dios es femenino. Dios es divino. Oh, claro que estará bien. Ella, la divina, must have had a hand. The many good things I did for my people in their land to just name a few and give you a clue, equal opportunity for all. Right to vote for women, free health care and education, but above all, acceleration. Like a caring mother. You did all those things. Indeed. So God's gender is female. Sometimes she's dressed in drag. I'm thinking just for fun. What if we go over our lives together, review and prepare? You know what I mean? Be ready to present a convincing argument for mistakes committed and give prominence to a selfish act. All right. I'm game. You start. No, you start. From the top, take me back to your earliest of times. I don't know about that. I've said enough. My life is boring. Yours is fun. Come on, Bacionaria. You don't think I'm dumb? All right then. I was born in the north of Spain in the mining town of Gallarta, with Gaya's Basque province. I come from a family of miners, a place of permanent struggle where everyone felt the bitter misery. My childhood impressions are of my father, always working what we called from star to star from before sunrise until after sunset. Every night the poor man would come home half dead and my precious mother after preparing, serving, cleaning and seeing everyone to bed would sit on a kitchen chair and cry. Seeing her cry is what pained my childhood most. You had a father and mother and together you were part of something. The suffering was shared amongst family and the mining ghetto. We live so close to the mines that when the alarm went off, in seconds everyone ran to cover avoiding the rocks shooting out at us in an explosion from the mountain's heart. In the building where my family lived was the worker's center. Their workers gathered to soak their spirits with ideas of justice and redemption. That was also the children's favorite gathering spot. The walls were covered with powerful flags representing the street cleaners, the trash pickers, the miners, the fishermen, the socialist party, the youth party. And every year we celebrated anniversaries like The Commune of Paris of 1871, a revolutionary siege where French workers retaliated fruitlessly against exploitation or the hay market riot of Chicago in 1886. We'd manifest on the streets with a festive parade, a marching band, allegorical carts and the crowds would end the day singing songs of promise to always oppose abuse and follow the revolutionary footsteps of workers everywhere. That was my childhood playground and the environment in which I grew up. No wonder. My father was a carlist, conservative. I was barely age ten when he'd send me to political reunions to listen in his place. I learned about discipline, aggression one time the miners went on a huge strike lasting weeks in train loads military men arrived and workers from other parts of Spain to replace the local ones picketing for their earnings to be raised. I was just a kid hiding on a corner street petrified watching everything. I remember a woman running to the soldiers and with fire in her eyes begging sons can't you see why our men are on strike? Just look at our life of misery and you won't blame us. Please just look around one time. You'll understand then how we have to do something. The rest of the women followed in step until the soldiers indeed looked around and backed away demoralized with bowed heads. They left a victorious town with better conditions and wages for the miners. That was a powerful and transformative moment in my life and in everyone's the bas bourgeoisie the wealthy capitalist the oligarchs saw that the working class impacts when united. I always say that unions and women cannot give in to that small ruling class of the entire elite. And the church that wants to take God's place by objectifying her. I can't get over the fact that God's a she. God is everything, everyone, you, them and me. We're all born with the potential to be set free. I don't agree. I was born a bastard child because my father left my mother, my first siblings and me high and dry. That man had no God inside. He merely returned to a prior legitimate family. He had kept secret on the side. You see, in the society I grew up, it was accepted for enough low and much a man to live a double life even if the women and children were disgraced. Subdegated to their shame predicament, women turned their horse positioning themselves against each other. Man's power to cause such painful isolation. You don't know what it's like to be betrayed by your own. My mother was forced to move to the poorest and most desolate village where my older sisters and brother had to work as servants or cooks to help mother pay for one room apartment because her full-time job as a seamstress wasn't enough. Eventually we moved to a larger place that my mother converted into a boarding house. But it wasn't a whorehouse like the riffraff has gossiped. Gossiped later on as first lady of Argentina during my trip to Europe while in Rome. People yell out to me, whore! You whore! Maybe I was a bit romantic when young or maybe I was simply searching for the long lost love of a father. I guess I was pretty, sir man. I was sprayed upon. So I took full advantage. But always resolute to fulfill my pledge. To defend women's rights and elevate us to the dignified place in society where we belong. We can't expect to be loved by all. The truth is, we shouldn't even expect. I would have preferred a life of anonymous peace and quiet without causing a stir. To have just enough to raise my family and plant seeds in a pot of land. Time to enjoy a picnic. Watch my children play. Read them a book. Sit around a table with a fresh loaf of bread and them. For that, I would have given up anything. Life presents us with tests and challenges that we cannot reject. I take life as it comes. But give me that life I know rather than known. We've been at it for so long. I've already played a million times over each human song. I had no other choice but to sublimate my pain with hoping others uplift their own name. My impoverished childhood was reflected in their eyes that looked so insane. What do you see reflected now? That you are free. You don't have to consume anymore. Nor keep your powder dry and sleep with one eye open. That's... That was my advice to our soldiers and comrades. The enemy lurks everywhere and we must be prepared. I often told them. Doesn't it feel like good times now? Remembering back had our determination and courage. I tried not to think of times past. The tears rolling down an old man's face. Seeing him get evicted from his own place. Being carried out in a chair he refused getting up from. I was enraged. You put that man back in his house this minute. And so they did. We brought him back into his room, fixed his bed and put him in it. Then I asked for a hammer to break the locks on every door and let the evicted victims back inside their homes. Nobody taught me how to respond or how to... how I became. The circumstances did it. I was never prepared to become anything special or do anything of meaning. I didn't finish high school even. I figured acting would be a solution. I was smart. I had presence and attitude of nothing to lose. Acting taught me compassion and gave me the insight into worlds unknown. I got to step into heroic women's shoes and transform with each character who opened my eyes to the benefits of action. Look, this is me. That was you. Wasn't I pretty? I listed all my physical endowments to the task and find to you daily this acting instrument of mine. One is so naively determined when young and beautiful. You won't believe it, but Juan and I did merit out of love. He both... We both wanted to be remembered for accomplishments regarding the biggest issues of the day. Both wanting to do the same in a different way. He knowing what he wanted to do and I intuited it. He with his intelligence and I with my heart. He sure of himself and I sure of his heart. You compromised though. No, really. For example, when I visited Spain Franco's wife and I dislike one another from the start, she was this frangile looking tasteless, proud and hard big teeth thin with her nose up high never looking doing the eye. Only interested in showing off. Franco assigned his beloved Carmen to be my unpleasant escort while noticing my antipathy towards his wife. Quizá él les quería mostrar a mi quién es su boss. El próximo mañana, la otra cerveza, ella dice... ¡Tengo todo planado para nosotros hoy, querido! Yo me took care that we first visited the most important historical places of Madrid. You need to see them near. These are legendary sites where my husband made history inflicting fear. Then, if we have time to spare, I'm surprising you with a treat. Just among girly fun for us two girls to share. Thank you. But today's route must be changed to the places my husband promised Spain I'd entertain. The neighborhoods where working people leave. Hospitals where the sick are dying. And schools of impoverished children striving. I have to acquiesce to my husband's wishes first. You understand. Indeed I can. I too am at my husband's highest command. Tomorrow will be a new day. But today we leave it as planned. Journalists are at hand and on schedule. No last minute alterations accepted. I regret to say, dear. They're not last minute. I fear Carmen, my husband, sent me here to serve two nations. Yours and mine. Argentina's support for the hungry in Spain is not taking lightly on our side. My attentive presence here supports the food products we import. Very admirable indeed. But I'm here to guide you through your important visit. Meeting the defeated is a worthless task. They all wear on their faces a threatening mask. They participated in a war against my country, aided by bullshit feaks and reds. Not to mention the charlatan anarchists promising my husband's head. I knew it was because he was hated and was afraid of probably receiving an attack of tomatoes or an offensive raid. I couldn't resist and said to her, you know very well that your husband is not empowered due to Spain's majority, but vote, but because of an imposition of triumphant force. You speak without knowledge. And worst, you are insulting my husband, Generalísimo Franco. Perhaps your Juan Perón made a mistake in sending his wife alone without knowledgeable political sympathizer. That plane responded with such a annoying voice. I continued as if nothing, unimpressed and told her more stories of all the good things my husband and I had accomplished back home together. The stakes kept getting higher as I rushed to keep one step ahead, avoiding booby traps all along the way. There were moments I regretted having come at all to an intrigue filled word turned conglomerate the next day. Carmen managed to take me to Granada to the chapel of the kings where Queen Isabel and King Fernando's tombstones lie. An enchanting place that once belonged to the Moors and where the unification began between America and Spain. Afterwards, a journalist asked what my thoughts were and I responded that I found it odd, but insightful how Isabel's stone pillow where her head lay is lower than her husband's. And I added, if pillows were placed under our hearts, mine would be much lower than my husband Juan Perón's, for I have the heavier one. And still you did what you did. I didn't do anything except play a part and give my husband the space for his unfitful heart. I didn't pay to sell out and sleep with the enemy. I contained the pain within me and continued politics as usual. How do you like that? Fine, except isn't that when you began to get sick? Now do you hear the sounds, the creek, the birds, the wind and that distant singing like a choir of angels? Here, put this around you for a little color to spice you up your block. Another color would betray my grieving. A little dust is wonders for one's mood. Let me help you with that. Thank you, Evita. But my life has been a perpetual state of mourning. So get away from all that causes aging. Change your look and stop the mopping. That's where we differ, you and I. Since my mother, my grandmother, Pia Pardo, left our side to black, I've been tied. Being congruent with my voice and image is my pride. Dolores, it's feeding name. Dolores means suffering. Yes, it means pain. I'm not sure what's worse, pain or shame. The worst is seeing your children die, giving birth to triplets and only one survive is indescribable. I say it over and over and still can't believe it. How did I endure? And then my son, my dearest Ruben, at 18 died in the battlefield at Stalingrad, fighting the Nazis. That boy gave his life for the survival of humanity. While mature nations coward pretending to care, I need to let go. I'm no longer there. Do you just like you tell me too? I'm the only daughter my father refused. I always wished he had fought my power and seen my fame. Truth be told, I hope he's in hell. My life was defined by his neglectful act. We wouldn't be who we are, thanks to all that. Never. You don't understand, you always had the support of a father who was a loving man. I wanted to be a teacher one day, but my mother swayed me away and warned me of aiming too high. How dare you, she said, with brothers who labor their life in the mines. I couldn't expect to be more than that. So I started sewing and moved on. We make do with what's at hand, otherwise we're just hanging on. From seamstress to political leader? Seamstress, maid, servant, and cook. And then to become what my mother became. And her mother, and her mother's mother, as well as all the other women. A housewife. Matrimony seems the heavenly end all, but really it's not all that it's cracked up to be. When continuing the mother's daily downward footsteps to a bottomless pit of inhumanity. With no other purpose than birthing, raising children, and being blamed or reproached. We're not ignored. Surely you don't believe that. I lived it. The common role of a housewife in a grim environment. That's because you never got dressed up. Color your hair, did your nails, and went on to a dance. Oh, did I miss the romance? What happened to my hair? Was it blonde? In this fear we're back to bare essentials. In Argentina a blonde, why the skin girl is unique and supreme? It wasn't easy getting my hair to have such skin. Disregard the trifles of that other world. Do you think I look all right? Does it really matter in the greater scheme of things? I guess not. But vanity is part of my original sin. Vanity thrives like a vulture on rotting meat. You changed your name. That's reinventing yourself. Was it to start a new life and passionaria you became? It wasn't premeditated. Julian founded the Communist Party of our area. I was shy, but wanted to participate. And motivate the discussion with union workers who gathered to strategize. Julian was always in prison for his active demonstrating. So I needed to help. I began going to the local library. And eating up books on socialism, philosophy, politics, history. One day I got the impulse to write an article for a magazine dedicated to the miners and blue collar workers. Feeling I now had things to say and understood the situation. I had developed a vision that I wanted to share. It was passion week, so instead of signing my name it would be better and more appropriate if I signed off as passionaria. From then on it became my pseudonym. But for a long time nobody knew who I was. Writing those words of dissent, unidentified, yet stirring people, people's minds and hearts, when I started speaking in front of the masses, I lost myself in them. And then you left your husband? Julian, he was a solid, honest man of high moral ground. But after the initial fleeting ardor of Olaf, it all became cold, cruel and completely unwound. While he maintained a low profile, I escalated the ranks, giving voice to a mute and exploited class of people in the midst of the worst social upheaval of our time. In Uzcadie, Spain, Europe and everywhere. My mother was a vasque like you. Hardworking woman, never give up. Her last name was Ibargoren. Hmm, means sunny terrace. I dedicated the charitable social assistance foundation to her. It's worth over 200 million and provides assistance to children, the elderly and women. I also created a home for our friends and students so that they could always have a residence available. If it wasn't for me, Juan would not have nationalized social services in our country. I fought tooth and nail. Don't forget to mention all that to the gods. Did you know that I sent a private plane to the United States full of winter clothes for the poor black children of that nation's capital? Was it an offer for show that fired back? How did you know? President Truman took it as such, or worse, as an assault to his people. It was a gesture of inclusiveness close from my own local manufacturing foundation to his children's society. What a surplus that man was. He couldn't accept that a Spanish speaking country was aiding the richest nations swarming on the Oscars with poor, homeless children. None of that really matters if you're stuck wishing ill will on others. What? I don't do that. What about the feelings of resentment you maintain towards your father? It's not easy. I know. The more I realize the more helpless I become. I, too, was righteous, high-minded and unforgiving, just like everyone. Thinking I was special, what fraudulent ego of mine could I not have at least tried to stop Stalin from doing the terrible things he did? Which reminds me, whatever happened to the Spanish God, you gave them for safekeeping. And I don't care. We all won when Hitler lost. And truthfully, it was all thanks to the Russians. But now they can return it. They can keep the gold if they want, Evita. That's not my point. We pick sides and then have double standards. Stalin would explain to me how Russia was 50 to 100 years behind the advanced countries and needed to cover that distance in 10 years or less. He said, either they catch up to the West or surely they'll be crushed by them. I praised his competitiveness and understood his urgency. His intent to establish a socialist system of government was fine. But millions of people were killed in the process as I turned a blind eye. You are much too hard on yourself. Life is not that simple. All we have to do is be conscious. Russia seems so far away and evil. Based on what? Juan told me all about them, how they are unbelievers. Again, that is religion talking. Angry clerics because their privileged status was removed. And most were persecuted due to a tight association between a corrupted regime and the church. I'm not saying it was right to do. But why must they continue a tarnished reputation while Germany, who did worse, is now seen as good? The world believes in God, while they do not. God is a private matter. The bottom line should be, he who draws the sword will die by it. Before Russia, many nations disappear by the hands of others. My own America shed its blood into the sea. I resent life for all of the suffering and having to pretend getting along as if nothing. I need to let go and accept grace's offering, I know. Imagine a world, juicy pink, quiet and fruitful. I first have to find it within myself. What would you do if you had to return and the world was worse? I'd do what I could all over again. But this time remembering that the time is short spent, that the heart knows and freedom waits ahead with the most fragrant rose. I think I might have beat more off more than what I could do. And then maybe I was over my head and the cancer saved me instead. I was losing myself in redundant luxury, power, responsibility. And the game became all about me while holding on to an underclass. When Juan broke my heart and our vows were shattered, I lost all control. It is better to kill 100 innocents than to let one guilty person go. How do you mean? Because one bad apple spoils the barrel. Because it only takes one Hitler to obliterate mankind. Because there is so much good to live for and die for and fight for. We can't allow crime. Seeing the faces arrive from all corners of the world ready to defend Spanish soil was breathtakingly joyous. It was unheard of and indescribable. You had to be there to believe. People coming on their own free will. Leaving their families and homes. Men and women, you know. A black man named Oliver Law led a white battalion for the first time ever. The international brigades. In Spain fighting fascism. Oh how proud I felt. Just like a mother, I held each one to my breast. The farewell speech you gave reverberated throughout the world. That's when I was an actress playing historic heroines on the radio and I remember listening to you. Intently. Absorbing like a spa until all the power of your message and mastery of your delivery. I remember thinking this heroic woman is alive. I'm witnessing history. What for, Tuti? It was November 1st, 1938. That's right. I was preparing for a radio performance of Carlota de Mexico. The war in Spain had ended. Everyone stopped to listen to your words. It was very difficult to say just a few words of farewell to you. Heroes of the international brigades. Soldiers with the highest ideals of human redemption. We grieve for those who must stay here forever under the Spanish soil. Though feel eternally grateful in the very depths of our hearts. From all cultures and races you came to us like brothers in the scariest days of the war when Spain's freedom was being threatened. You, galling comrades of the international brigades helped save our country with your fighting enthusiasm, your heroism and your spirit of sacrifice. For the first time in history the spectacle is breathtakingly formed by people from all parts of the world struggling to help save a threatened country's freedom and independence. Communists, socialists, anarchists, republicans, men of different colors, deferring ideologies and religions. Yet all profoundly loving liberty and justice. You came offering yourselves unconditionally to us. You gave us everything. Your youth, your maturity, your science, your experience, your blood, your lives, your hopes and aspirations and asked for nothing in return but the honor of dying with us. Mothers, women, when the years pass and the wounds of war have been acknowledged when the memory of those sad bloody days has dissipated and the rankers have died out pride in a free country is felt equally again by all Spaniards. Speak to your children and tell them of these men of the international brigades. Tell them how, coming over seas and mountains these men crossed frontiers bristling with bayonets and raving dogs thirsting to terror these men reached our country as crusaders for freedom willing to fight Spain's liberty against fascism saying we are here because your fight, your cause Spain's cause is our cause and the cause of all civilized progressive mankind. Comrades, you can go proudly you are history you are legend you are heroic example of democracy solidarity we shall not forget you and when the olive tree of peace is in flower entwined with the victory laurels of all the Republic of Spain return. Come back to our side for here you will find a homeland and if you are without country or friends know that you have the affection and gratitude of the Spanish people who today and always will shout with enthusiasm long live the heroes of the international brigades You impact me now as you did then you must have been awful for you to have to leave Spain first to France and then to Russia he exiled for 35 years yes, it was hard to leave behind so much and then my Francisco was taken prisoner by the Nazis I was going insane but luckily Stalin was able to negotiate with Hitler his freedom can you imagine how far I went for my Romeo we got to live a few years together happy until my Ruben was killed then Francisco went off to France to work for a party he had to get away and I gave him no blame but sometime later when he told me that he had secretly gotten married and was a father I hunted him down to the end with all my vengeance and zero shame it was all the pain accumulated I'm sure and then having to leave over there Russia was great to me and to thousands of exiled Spanish children to grow up as proud communists I became cultured there I went to the opera, theater ballet artists from all over including America they came to perform I met the magnificent Paul Robeson there when I told him about Oliver Law he became so enamored with that character that he promised to make a film to portray him he found out if he pulled it off Hollywood was blacklisting him you're right I was wrong in securing the freedom and safety of war criminals but I couldn't do anything about it I ignored feeling sorry for myself like an eventful book sitting on a shelf I accepted jewelry that was property of the Jewish people whose life and belongings had been taken from them I'm sorry oh god I'm so sorry they didn't ask questions I didn't want to know out of greed and selfishness that just paid me for their lives with possessions of their victims that man recognized his wife's earrings he wore when he last saw her being taken away well I'd be forgiven depends on you remember that one and one always make two the laws of nature are simple what you give shines through no matter what others do here for you no no no why? I don't deserve them how beautiful they are you're still young what do you say you go back for another chance huh? and dance to the beat of your own drum yes I want to dance but you won't call you who is Evita? I'm Evita a dance to the beat go on Evita come with me his wife's sweetheart is just for you I'll never forget have the courage to love all the time with an open heart oh come on you can't go late this is your fate and half pass eight or else you'll have to wait another hundred ¡Ay, Kindred Spirit! ¡Gracias a todos! ¡Gracias a todos! ¡Adiós, Francisco! ¡No seas frío o incendio! ¡Y digas que es tiempo de graduarse! ¿Verdad? ¿Me lo hiciste bien? Algunas cosas no lo hiciste. Pero me lo prometo. Te voy a llevar la próxima vez. Solo quiero estar conmigo. Todas las luces. Y verás donde ir. En el camino hay un cajón con agua caliente, un poco de esponja, mirando en mis pies. ¿Me? Puedo también sopar, cocinar y limpiar. ¡Sí! ¿Hemos terminado? Sí. ¡Hemos parido! ¡Madre mía! ¡Hemos parido! ¡Karen, estoy muy orgullosa de ti! ¡Perfecto! Hemos terminado. ¿Hemos terminado? Perfecto tiempo. Perfecto tiempo. ¡Oh, Dios mío!