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Summer, 1936
July 18.
"The Spanish army rises against the Republican government."
July 19.
"In Barcelona and Madrid the army is defeated..."
"... thanks to the people's heroic efforts."
July 20.
"The masses demand a revolutionary state."
"The legal government is unable to control the situation."
July 21.
The Spanish civil war begins...
the last idealistic war...
"... the last dream of a people striving for the impossible..."
for Utopia.
- Down with capitalism! - Death to priests!
Long live Durruti!
Long live the workers!
Long live the FAI!
Come along, sisters.
A little bit of order.
Silence, please!
Sister Agueda...
Sister Carmela...
Sister Encarnación...
It isn't much, but it will get you back to your families.
You'll leave at once.
Sister Amparo...
Be careful, talk as little as possible to people.
Trust no one, except God. He will never abandon you.
Sister Maria...
The most innocent, the most defenseless...
the furthest from her home.
He will take care of you.
Mother, I'm frightened. Who will help you if you stay?
A Mother Superior belongs with her convent.
Let's see.
St. Matthew, chapter six, verse twenty five.
Do not worry about your life, what you are to eat or drink...
nor about your body and how to clothe it.
Is not life more than food, the body more than clothing?
Continue, Maria.
The birds in the sky do not sow or reap...
but your heavenly Father feeds them.
Are you not worth much more then they are?
Do you still believe that God will not watch over me...
and all of you?
No, mother.
Forgive me.
- Time is short. - Mother!
They're here!
You nuns, get out! We're going to burn the convent!
Long live the CNT!
Long live the FAI!
Hey there, sisters!
Where are you going?
Don't move!
Come on, stand up! We're not Jesus Christ!
The revolution respects all women.
Let's watch the cathedral burn. On your feet, comrade nuns.
- Who is it? - For pity's sake!
Shelter in the name of the Virgin!
Come in, sister.
Not my underskirt! For the love of God, no!
We're not going to kill you.
Saint Catherine had her tits cut off...
and complained less.
You smell of rotting lilies. Don't you wash your twat?
We use bleach here.
That's enough, girls.
Put her into bed.
You can go now.
Quickly!
You want to save your skin, right?
You're going to stay here and say nothing.
Understand?
You've been very lucky, my dear.
You're in good hands here.
Come in, monsignor.
Come on in.
Monsignor...
With all respect...
you have to remove...
all your clothes.
Good luck, monsignor. And don't worry.
It will be all right, with God's help.
What's your name, child?
A militiaman helped me get a pass to go to Barcelona.
You know who gives them out? That shoemaker from Murcia.
He sits behind a table stamping papers.
You know what the stamp is made of?
A potato!
And no one can get out of town without a paper...
with the stamp.
Fanny, dear, bring me a potato and a knife.
Quickly.
The convent priest hid in a tree and they shot him out of it.
The militiamen found 16 million pesetas...
in the Episcopal palace. That's 64 million "reales".
160 million "perras".
Then that bishop hasn't got a bean.
I'm not doing it for money. It's out of humanity.
And conviction, of course.
I'm very Catholic.
- So am I. - Me too.
More than the cardinal.
More than the Pope!
CNT, "comrade, no toiling".
- Ma'am... - Yes?
It's the militia. Will I let them in?
Take it easy, girls.
With the revolution or without it...
men always come here for the same thing.
Let's go into the drawing room.
Coming!
Who's in charge here?
You mean Madame Colet?
Let's see. That Madame what's it...
You the brothel keeper?
Call your girls in.
All of them.
They're all here.
Aura, turn off that shit.
If this is the revolution, they can forget about me.
I don't go with dikes.
Sit down.
You...
Over here.
Concha.
Friends...
I am Concha Liano and, like my two comrades...
I am a member of "Free Women".
Our country is now in revolt.
The symbols of oppression are burning.
The workers have occupied the factories and barracks.
The hated army which oppressed the working class for centuries...
has been defeated...
by ordinary men and women.
Spain is an example to the world.
Priests and capitalists...
are fleeing from proletarian justice.
Now...
at last, the people are speaking out.
Friends...
Freedom has broken out.
Keep going.
A word is heard repeatedly in our streets...
our homes, our factories and workshops.
Revolution!
That word is heavy with meaning.
Who's there?
Open in the name of the revolution!
Courage, sister.
Say something. Just say "I'm busy".
I'll break down the door!
Say something. Say "I'm busy".
"I'm busy."
What are you doing?
What do you think? We're screwing.
Not any more.
Throw that pig...
out of bed. That's an order!
Get out of here, bastard!
Or I'll blow your balls off!
We cannot aspire to any kind of justice...
while the greatest slavery still exists.
It forces you to renounce love, tenderness, friendship...
and waste your lives on the sexual voracity of strangers.
It makes a woman...
sell her own body...
in houses like this...
which are just love sheds.
Love must be free...
not bought.
What's she saying?
That they're whores too, but they don't charge.
I'll kick up a fuss.
No more hypocrisy.
No woman is decent until we all are.
This has to end at once.
It's over now.
We're here to help you.
Comrades...
sisters, in the name of all Spanish women...
we open our arms to help you regain...
your dignity as workers, sisters, or mothers.
Join in the liberation of prostitutes!
Long live Free Women and the libertarian revolution!
You've heard my comrade.
Have you nothing to say?
For Crissake! What is it you want?
To be whores all your life?
To have cocks stuck up you ten or fifteen times a day...
and all for a bowl of stew?
Or have you seven lives like a cat...
and you can afford to waste this one?
- You can count on me. - And me.
- To shoot, if need be. - We're ready to die.
- How do we start? - Can I be a dressmaker?
There are women like you...
in my village.
Calm down. The revolution guarantees you...
a decent job.
- What about that odd one? - Her? She isn't one of us.
- She's a nun. - And there's a priest here.
- A bishop, at least. - Fuck, a bishop!
The boss was making a CNT stamp with a potato.
She was going to get him out for money.
Are you a nun, calamity?
To serve God and you.
Christ! You don't serve a god or anybody!
You're free from now on.
No god, no country, no master.
Whatever you say.
She isn't a nun.
She's a prisoner of the clergy.
To stop the militiamen...
coming to screw you, this dump is closed.
The potato.
Eat it.
Eat it!
Show some enthusiasm.
Property is abolished!
Burn the mayor's papers!
If God is all-powerful, let him come down.
Death to priests!
Burn it all!
Burn the property register!
Move that.
What's in here? The bishop?
- Hands off. - For killing sparrows?
Burn it all!
Long live the libertarian revolution!
Attention! Attention!
From Barcelona...
"... thanks to the microphones of EAJ15: we bring you..."
"... Buenaventura Durruti. Attention!"
In these historic moments...
in these decisive hours...
"... multiplied by ardor and enthusiasm..."
"... the brave men of the people..."
"... who reduced the army in Barcelona..."
"... are preparing to march on Saragossa..."
to assist their Aragonese brothers.
The sovereign will...
"... of masses who can do anything..."
"... when united and increased by the decision to triumph..."
"... will influence the fate of the world."
"July 19 will mark the beginning..."
of a new era.
"The peace of the past no longer exists."
"We are gestating, among rivers of blood..."
a new Spain!
Long live the FAI, symbol of the revolution!
Long live Durruti!
Long live anti-fascism!
Long live the revolution!
Hurrah!
Victory to the working class!
Greetings.
That's what your lot was keeping. For the poor.
As if we had enough trucks...
to spare some for the redemption of your girls.
Did you hear?
Our comrade here wants a bus to take her girls...
to Barcelona.
Have you seen this scarecrow? Turn round...
and let them see.
- Idiot! - Go wash dishes!
Is she with you?
She's with me.
What about it?
Did you get her from the wax museum?
She's very odd.
Not as odd as you...
with that potato.
Let's see.
You and your whores will take a train for Barcelona tomorrow.
A gift from me.
Where do we stay tonight?
In the Encarnation Convent.
It's empty.
We thought of your lot and didn't burn it.
So there.
Come on.
Well.
What about you lot?
Because none of us swallow this story...
that you're "loyal to the Republic".
Let's see.
You tell me where the tommy guns are...
and I'll believe you.
All right? Where are they?
The sergeant's wife is a sympathizer.
A sympathizer?
Of what?
Of Libertarian Youth.
- What about it? - She gave them the tommy guns.
Did I leave a whore house just to enter a convent?
- What a narrow bed! - It's only meant for one person.
- Where did the chaplain go? - On top, as usual.
I know who I'll dream about.
The priest in my town. He was gorgeous!
- I'll stay here. - Charo, you'll sleep easy.
And I won't have to season it with vinegar.
- What's your name? - Aura.
Good night.
Going to sleep in that hat?
What's your name?
Maria.
Maria what?
De la Concepción de Azcárate...
y Dorronsoro.
Rich family?
I'm a servant of the Lord.
With a name like that, you must be rich. Look at me.
Plain Pilar Sánchez.
Poor as a church mouse.
Where are you from?
My family's in Saragossa.
Tomorrow is another day.
You're an early bird.
In that hat, you look like you're in the Legion of Mary.
Why not take it off?
When do we go to Barcelona?
I'm going today.
Your lot will go by train.
When there is one.
What must I do to get to Saragossa?
You should ask Durruti that.
We all want to go there.
That's better. You look like a peasant.
Who are you married to?
The Lord.
That's great.
A husband who doesn't need his supper made...
or his bed.
I'll see you in Barcelona.
Living in a community has got advantages for you.
You can form a committee.
A committee is a group of comrades...
who undertake to direct, not order, but direct...
put in order, the activities of the group.
Let's see how this committee can be formed.
First, you need a secretary.
But make sure that the comrade chosen...
is the one best able to read and write.
Anita can use a typewriter.
The secretary will be the representative...
in dealing with other groups...
but must remember that she has no rights over the others.
Rather, she must listen carefully...
to the suggestions and complaints of her comrades.
You go by train.
You going on your own?
With the nun.
Get on!
Astride.
Halt!
- Greetings. - Greetings.
- What are you carrying? - Stale bread.
Say your prayers.
Today, two went through...
with rabbit skins, and three with sausages...
but you're the first with stale bread.
Put on your miter, bishop.
There's a nice job for you.
Some moneybags.
Shit!
Let's see if there is a God.
Come on, let's go.
Why did they kill him?
This is a revolution, not a party.
And someone has to pay the consequences.
It's the apocalypse of freedom!
Up with the Barbers' Union!
There are the rifles.
Barcelona's barbers support the revolution!
Down with the army!
Down with the generals!
Down with capitalism!
Long live the CNT!
Long live the libertarian revolution!
- Victory to the working class! - Victory!
Coming!
- Five hours! - Come on, open up.
It's a bit much.
The men have their revolution. What about you?
Skip the jokes and help me.
Push.
- What about her? Who is she? - A nun.
Christ!
Fucking hell! If that's true, we'll run you through tonight!
Come on in.
Come on!
The spirit-making machines?
Here. They're right here.
Power for women!
Squat down.
Wash yourself at the front.
Don't worry, it isn't a sin.
What's up?
She saw a bishop get wiped out.
Well, he'll be in Heaven now. God is a fascist.
Don't talk rubbish.
Look.
Stop crying and I'll give you my peach. Here, take it.
What's this?
11,000 virgins!
And what's in here?
Some gold coins from the clergy's treasure.
I was given it to pay my journey to Saragossa.
We're going for free.
This is mine. I got the others from the barricade outside.
A duchess's bed.
You'll sleep better than anyone.
Like the princess and the pea, but without the pea.
Well! A little smile from the nun!
Did an angel pass by?
My mother used to tell me that story at bedtime.
Are you an anarchist too?
Yes, indeed. Anarchist, spiritualist...
and lame.
Anarchist because the individual is all and the state is nothing.
Spiritualist because, after death...
the individual is all and God is nothing.
And lame from birth...
because, that way, my mind developed.
Understand?
Let's see. Jesus...
Jesus was the first anarchist.
- You believe in Jesus? - Of course.
It's priests that I hate.
What's more, I spoke to Jesus’ spirit once.
You? You spoke to him?
To her.
Jesus isn't a man, she's a woman.
Good night.
See you tomorrow.
Listen.
Don't cry too much about your bishop. He was not innocent.
He never protested about starvation wages...
about keeping the people in ignorance...
about letting the poor die, about children working in mines.
For centuries...
bishops have grown fat and never protested.
It's a sin to kill.
Here.
Read and learn. You'll see...
how many ways there are to kill.
See you tomorrow.
The Eternal Book.
"Do not deceive each other.
Cast aside the old man and dress as the new man.
Thus, you will have a man able to feel and think...
in a way we cannot even conceive."
Long live libertarian Barcelona!
Hurrah!
You've been proposed as secretary of the Propaganda Committee.
Why me? Absolutely not. I'm going to the front.
Come on.
Both sexes are oppressed, not just women.
This means there is only one liberation...
for which both men and women will have to fight!
You women offered your lives, full of illusion...
in the first days of the heroic struggle...
where each man was a hero...
and each woman was the equal of a man!
But bravery isn't everything.
It is time to give up the rifle for the industrial machine...
and warrior energy for that softness in every woman's soul.
She's talking rubbish!
Christ! The lioness has turned into a chicken!
She will impose on the rough atmosphere of war...
the delicate sensitivity...
of feminine psychology.
She will tend the men returning weary from the battle front.
Free Women reiterates that the danger can only be resisted...
with the opposition of a female force...
participation in the armed struggle!
Concha!
Leave this to me! Let me speak for once!
What's wrong?
It seems we're mad because we want to fight.
I'm going to explain, so listen well.
We don't see why...
the revolution is in the hands of only half the population.
We are anarchists...
but we are also women and we want to make our revolution.
Not have men make it for us.
We don't want a struggle designed to fit the male...
because we'll be fucked, as always.
We want to fight so that we can claim our part in the share-out.
And we want to make it clear...
that just now we're beside ourselves with joy...
and it would be a mistake to keep us at home knitting!
We want to die!
But we want to die like men, not live like servants!
Clap, nun.
Remember, your soul is a woman's soul and has to be with women.
- What? - Clap!
What's wrong with you?
Long live women!
Long live the revolution!
On to Saragossa!
Long live freedom!
On to Saragossa!
Long live freedom!
- Are we going to Lerida? - Don't ask me.
I've just got out of jail! On to Saragossa!
You never let go of this.
Come on.
We're going to Saragossa. Climb up, Pilar. You too, Concha.
Long live the revolution!
Long live Durruti!
Long live libertarian communism!
On to Saragossa!
That's the lot from the Gutiérrez century...
covering the right flank, or exposing it.
And there are the fascist bastards...
with their army discipline.
When will the grub arrive?
Soon. Before Saragossa falls.
Whoever hits the target at this distance...
wins a prize.
Comrade Durruti...
The readers of the New York Herald would like to know...
if the anarchists...
act on government orders...
or if they are in confrontation with it.
Fascism must be stamped out forever.
If necessary, in spite of the government.
Perhaps, some day soon...
this government may need the rebel forces...
to destroy the workers' movement.
We fight for the revolution. We expect help from no one.
We'll show you Russian Bolsheviks how to make a revolution.
There is dictatorship in your country.
There are colonels and generals in the Red Army...
while my column has no leaders and no subordinates.
We all have equal rights. We are all soldiers.
I too am a simple soldier.
The men in your column...
are accused of having fallen into disorder.
Chaos, some say.
Professional soldiers have trouble being respected.
What do you say?
The bourgeoisie always tend to identify freedom with chaos.
We have organized enthusiasm, not obedience.
Every man and woman...
is responsible to themselves and to the rest.
That is our strength.
We, the workers, are destined to inherit the earth.
It will undoubtedly be a very expensive triumph.
You will rest on a pile of ruins.
We are not afraid of ruins.
Workers built the palaces and cities of Spain and America.
We can do it again.
The bourgeoisie can destroy their world...
before abandoning history's stage...
but we have a new world in our hearts...
a world that is growing every moment.
It's growing while I talk to you.
Here.
A promise is a promise.
- Anyone for Farlete? - Me.
- Me.
Name and profession?
That's a bad start.
We don't want to be on a list. We came to fight...
for our ideals. We belong to Free Women.
How many are you?
No idea.
Count us.
They've got tommy guns.
- How many tommy guns? - Six, comrade secretary.
I'm not a secretary.
Sorry, comrade priest.
And I'm not a priest.
- We were misinformed. - Undoubtedly.
You should give up those arms.
Up here!
You and your companions can be of help at the front.
Without carrying arms.
I've heard that before.
What you want, comrade priest...
is to have us washing up for the men.
Send them to Pina, it's quiet.
We'll change that!
Pray for us, priest.
I've done my bit for today.
Hey!
There's a nail file up there if you want one.
Just look at this kid!
What is this? Are you tired of working already?
It's tea time.
You haven't done a thing yet.
I'm guarding the tommy guns.
You go and dig, I'll guard them.
Climb on this.
A good trench needs a security exit.
There are various wars here. Get that clear.
But it's all to take Saragossa.
Or isn't it?
The government doesn't want us to take Saragossa.
Not there! We'd have to stand on chairs to shoot!
That row goes outside.
It stops otherwise.
My father's winding up the clock.
He believes in clocks, not in God.
He thinks if it stops, his time's up.
I came to make the revolution, not to work.
You make the revolution in bed?
It depends on the company.
We'll have to go to Saragossa by river.
- Can you swim? - Depends what's on the other side.
Look what I found!
Who lost their head?
You mean...
- Who lost their ass? - You pig!
Look, I've just got out of jail! I spent two years in there!
Two years with nothing but hairy men!
You'd better be careful, Faneca. We'll castrate you some night.
Pass me the pumpkin. Over here, to me.
We'll castrate him now!
- Pass it to me! - The revolution's fucked!
Lord, come down and behold your libertarians...
adoring a pumpkin.
Give them the enemy they deserve.
I was joking!
It's raining!
They're going to fire again! Come on, hurry, take cover!
What are those two doing?
Last one's a faggot, Maria!
- Is everyone all right? - Yeah.
A great weapon, but that lot don't know how to use it.
What the fuck do you know?
I did my military service in Africa. Quartermaster.
I know about war.
- Why the pistol? - What about it?
Sons of bitches!
- They'll destroy the stew! - Let them! It doesn't matter!
Is touching your tits counter-revolutionary?
Try it.
Thanks.
Maria!
Leave that!
- Where's she going? - She's crazy! Come back!
The pot!
- Why did you do it? - We'd have lost the soup.
The bowls!
Don't worry, we're safe.
Bullets have a parabola. They don't fall out of the sky.
I can't get my finger out!
I am searching for freedom...
"... and singing my songs on the breeze."
I am searching for freedom.
"If I don't find that freedom..."
I won't stop...
singing.
Do you find them already peeled?
You don't have to tell anyone where you get the potatoes.
Except me.
Where do you get them?
I bought them with old coins until I used them all.
Now the peasants give them because they like what I say.
What do you say?
The day has come...
when peasants will keep what they need to live...
but will give the rest to the workers from the cities...
in whom, for the first time ever, they will see brothers...
and not exploiters.
Kropotkin.
Chapter 5, page 215.
Anyone here from the La Lometa, Penasol or Riohondo positions?
Penasol!
La Lometa!
And Riohondo?
Her.
Durruti got some leather jackets from the rearguard.
He thinks they'll be of use to those standing guard...
in the trenches at night.
- How many do you need? - I want two.
We need three.
- And you? - Three.
I'll give you two each.
Wait.
Can you carry all that?
I'll help you.
I'll go slowly.
Where are you going?
- Are you going far? - To the position at Riohondo.
They've come to help me.
Greetings.
Mariona...
Be careful with him, he's a priest.
He was about to be shot and Durruti saved him.
He'll know why.
But a priest is a priest.
I'm so hungry.
Is there any millionaire among you?
I bet he's an officer.
I bet he doesn't fight. I bet he eats separately.
You, soldiers of an army which has risen against the people...
you are the people!
You are dying to defend the interests of your millionaire...
generals.
That's enough, Beret.
The eight hour day has been won.
- Don't you want to eat? - Fuck, leave me alone!
There are no officers here.
We are all soldiers...
of the revolution...
against the oppression of generals...
and capitalists.
Did he think that up himself?
Well...
It's very good.
Don't fire against your brothers.
Turn your rifles around.
The enemy is behind you, not in front of you.
Raise your fists and shout...
Freedom!
Brotherhood!
Long live libertarian communism!
Come over and tell us, and we'll talk about your mother too!
If I go over, I'll stick the megaphone up your ass...
fucking bastard!
That isn't mine.
The day you were born your mother was drunk!
It's getting anti-feminist.
Son of the Pasionaria!
How much do they pay now...
for the wrinkled crack of your fucking whore of a mother!
Come down from there!
Who will you convince raving on like that?
They started. I was making a serious speech!
Do we let them mention our mothers?
What kind of war is this?
Instead of picking off the enemy, we make speeches at them.
I'd have finished them off!
It's a sin to kill.
They're the people too.
The people, always generous and the enemy of revenge...
will break bread with all who have stayed in its bosom...
expropriators and expropriated.
In this way, when work begins again...
former combatants will be together in the same workshop.
- Has she gone crazy? - It sounds familiar.
Of course it does.
"The Conquest of Bread."
Tell them that.
In case they win.
In the name of almighty God...
lay down your rifles.
They'll think it's their side.
So it is.
The virgin Maria.
The human being must desire the freedom of all men.
Bakunin.
- Really? - What does bakunin mean?
I'll tell you if you stop touching my ass.
Touch mine.
Really?
Swear in front of everybody.
I swear.
I don't care. I mean, I just have this body as a loan.
I'd throw it to the dogs.
The individual freedom of each man...
is only possible through the collective freedom...
of the society of which he is part...
by virtue of a natural and immutable law.
Damn whore!
Take the cock out of your mouth...
before you speak!
What are you thinking?
The same as you.
We could wipe out those guys with that.
- When? - Pilar, Concha...
Floren's acting odd. She's talking like a man.
Christ!
What did she say?
I don't know.
I was combing her hair...
when she went rigid and started saying odd things.
- A spirit has entered her. - We must waken her.
- How? - We'll slap her!
Don't waken her, idiots!
Who are you?
A strongbox.
- Tell us who you are. - Dynamite.
- Can you tell us who you are? - A good detonator.
Are you a spirit or an imp?
And a flag. That's all you need.
My name is Mateo Morral.
- Didn't you bomb the Opera? - Like hell!
I'm the one who threw the bomb at Alfonso XIII:
If I hadn't been garroted...
If I were with you, you bunch of idiots!
You rack your brains trying to decide if this is...
a war or a revolution. It's neither one nor the other!
It's just a piece of rotten shit!
And you're even going to lose...
the shit that's stuck to your shoes. Idiots!
You leave Barcelona in enemy hands and come here...
to be killed!
I'm going to hit her so hard...
That bitch is saying what she feels in the depth of her soul.
Goblins, ghosts and supernatural creatures...
are bourgeois lies. Opium for the people.
Go on, spirit. Go on.
Durruti is an idiot.
He conquers Barcelona and comes here to collectivize villages.
They're going to screw him because he's a fool!
He has the brain of an ant!
That's enough!
- Aura, you're pulling my hair! - No, it was me hitting you!
You want more?
It was Mateo Morral.
- Do you believe in that? - No, I don't.
Nor in clocks when they stop.
But where did that voice come from?
Beret...
Can you dig a hole without making noise?
Depends on the size.
About this wide and this deep.
Yes, you can.
What tools do you need?
A chisel and a pair of hands.
Call them out.
- 200 balaclavas. - Yes.
- 150 blankets. - Yes.
- 80 pairs of woolen socks. - Yes.
50 dozen lipsticks.
What?
50 dozen lipsticks. That's what it says here.
- Are they mad in Barcelona? - Here they are.
Let's continue.
120 woolen undershirts.
Two oil stoves.
50 mountain knives.
300 bowls.
Yes.
200 aluminum forks.
200 wooden handled knives.
Yes.
20 packs of cards.
Yes.
200 aluminum spoons.
What are you looking for?
A strongbox.
Why do you need one?
Over there, in the corner.
How will you carry it?
Under your arm?
I'll manage it.
May I take this too?
Father...
If I asked to confess, what would you say?
Don't call me father.
What can I do?
Wait. Don't do anything.
Do as you're ordered, but nothing else.
And you, sir?
Don't call me sir.
Is that what you do?
- I help them. - Why?
Jesus...
your master...
said that the poor have a sacred madness.
Let me call you father. Let me...
ease my soul with the sacrament of penance.
I thought you were a priest. Are you or aren't you?
Not any more.
Stop! Someone might hear.
And bless the revolution!
Without it, no one would ever have kissed you.
They told me: A strongbox with a hole in the lid.
That's what they said.
No smoking or we're fucked.
Let's see.
The trickiest bit.
What a moon!
We never thought of that.
It's clouding over.
We'll do it tomorrow.
It's clouding over!
- What's up, Faneca? - Nothing.
Dead calm.
What's that? A shot?
Here.
When you hear a noise, look, and tell us after.
If you don't come back...
what do I do...
with the alarm clock?
Keep winding it. Don't let it stop.
From now on, we're all part of one machine, is that clear?
Here.
Charo, go over there.
Here we have the remains of society.
A nun, a whore, a thief, a pen-pusher...
and a cripple.
- Cigarette? - Someone's going to die.
I can feel it in my bones.
Why are we here?
We're with women all day and at night we jerk off.
The war has to start some day.
The last time I had a woman was in January '34.
Behind a wall.
A tart who didn't...
have any tits.
I've been on leave since the night of July 18.
I dream of the same thing every night.
Large and firm, with nipples like that.
Pointing upwards.
And who do those wonders belong to?
I'd like to know that.
Like these?
Do you want to?
Really?
You got me on a good day.
I'll do it for the revolution.
And to try to stop this tingling in my body.
I was just saying to myself...
how odd, men and women together and nothing happens.
It took too long to happen.
If the enemy decide to attack they'll just find us...
and those two fucking.
If they used the loudspeaker the other lot could masturbate.
It makes you edgy.
- Doesn't it? - No.
I'm not edgy.
How am I doing?
Normal. Fine.
Tell me I'm the best.
Say, "You brute, you animal. You're hurting me".
Just shut up and come.
That's it?
Fuck, you'd put anybody off!
Someone's going to die.
I feel it in my bones.
Here.
- The river's very noisy. - That's good.
- All quiet? - All quiet, sir.
- Good night. - Long live Spain, sir.
It's no use worrying.
What has to happen will happen.
You can't avoid it by suffering beforehand.
I'm a fatalist.
If you're alive, you're a body. If you're dead, you're a spirit.
It's about to begin.
Well?
- Charo, the sun's coming up. - Who's dead?
This operation has good sponsors, Charo.
I consulted with Lenin, Bakunin and even Françesc Macia.
Nobody's going to snuff it tonight.
Hey! Come on!
Come on! We're going to war!
Look.
- A flag. - Yes.
A Republican flag.
My God!
Couldn't they have left things as they were?
Here.
That's it.
Take cover!
Now!
Show no mercy! Continuous fire!
Keep firing! Pin them down!
Now!
There's no one there.
The rats have gone!
The machine gun is mine!
Intact! Not a scratch!
This little darling is going to work for the revolution!
That's it! They've won...
the war!
Don't be so silly.
Maybe no one has died. Maybe it was a man who died.
Women of little faith!
No one, male or female, is going to kick the bucket today.
Hey, come here! Look!
Come on!
Where's she going?
She's crossing over, she's going with her own lot.
Don't move!
Beret!
It's three miles to San Román.
- Our people are in the town. - Come on, everybody push!
Aura! Concha!
We're going there. You do the same. Everyone to San Román!
San Román is libertarian!
We're closer to Saragossa now!
See you later!
Long live Spain! Long live the army!
Long live Christ the King!
Surrender! Your soldiers are workers. They've joined us!
Don't be a fool!
A Spanish army officer doesn't surrender to the rabble!
You can all go to Hell!
The bastard knows that whatever he does, his time is up.
Hold it!
Go on! Fire, you faggots! What are you waiting for?
Dare to kill an officer of the glorious Spanish army!
Wait here, comrades.
Long live Spain!
You stupid idiot!
You'll be kicking for an hour. Next time, use a longer rope.
Did you want a medal on your casket?
We'll bury you like a dog!
Want some relief?
That's better than a couple of aspirins.
Regards to St. Peter! You see, we aren't so bad.
Help us, comrades!
A group of officers have dug in at the mill!
Let's go!
Fucking commies!
Raise your head, and we'll use your brains...
to stick up posters! Fire!
It works great.
You feed the belt.
I'll drive.
The bastard wants to make my mother a widow.
Raise the gunstock! Higher! Fire!
Jump!
Come on, jump!
Let's go! Forward!
Help me!
Jesus fucking Christ!
Greetings, comrades! You're welcome.
- Greetings! - Greetings!
On the count of three!
Are you ready?
One... two...
and three!
Pilar!
Forgive me. I want to be with you. I don't want to go.
I hear you gave up your big chance.
You didn't go to Saragossa.
Is it a sin to love madly what is around me?
The convent seems like a jail to me now.
Did I hear right?
That priest is courting her.
Who told you that? Lenin or Mateo Morral?
- I can lip read. - You may be dead, Father...
but listen to me.
I'll give it to Mother so that she can kill a fascist!
Long live the libertarian revolution!
Hurrah!
On the Last Day, he'll arise with his fist clenched.
Maria...
Let's do something that'll seem insane.
What?
Let's get married.
What?
He's feeling her up.
Be quiet!
- Now, what's your profession? - I'm a weaver.
A weaver.
I was a whore.
But the revolution redeemed me.
She was a weaver but now she has a bookshop.
- Please, more slowly. - Books.
- For reading.
Do you fraternize with the militiamen?
We fight, we're like them.
I mean, sexually.
You...
I don't.
And you?
I'd like to.
- And... - I lost interest ages ago.
You wouldn't think it, but I'm a volcano.
Free love is one of our principles.
Women have as much right as men to enjoy their bodies.
Yes, but men think that free love means a free hand.
How are you?
Greetings.
And you, Maria?
- Her? She's a nun. - No!
Yes!
You're a nun...
an anarchist and a weaver? All three things?
I'm not an anarchist.
Nor am I a nun. Not any more.
Maybe I'll become a weaver after the war.
Some people say that anarchism...
is a form of religious affirmation.
No god, no master.
Bakunin has a biblical, prophetic style.
You're the kind that says things are always the same.
No, Englishman, this time they're going to change.
So what did my father die for?
Know why he's here?
To tell us we have to abandon this town!
Durruti says it isn't strategic!
We have to go back across the river!
He says we'll have tanks soon, and caps with braid...
and we'll be called the People's Army!
I don't want an army! I want anarchy!
Anarchy, for fuck's sake!
I don't want to look like them.
Concha, shout with me. Hurrah for wine!
Don't ask the impossible. Shout: Hurrah for bread!
- Come on, I'll race you! - Stop it, you're drunk!
We all have a new world...
within our hearts!
Anarchy is the highest expression of order!
We don't want to be male or female soldiers!
Man and woman are equal!
They're equal, Englishman. Equal. Not the same!
What am I saying? Some are the same.
Dear Lord!
Pilar...
Come here, love. Lay down your head.
This is getting messy.
Come on, let's go, it's late.
Priest!
The nun wets her pants when she sees you.
In the name of God...
or Bakunin, or whoever you want...
you'd better sleep with her tonight.
Leave her alone, you're shocking her.
Christ, priest.
She's stronger than you.
I'm not drunk. I'm being serious.
Come on, try to forget about our father...
who is in heaven, and live down here in this world.
- Englishman... - I'm not English.
So what? Listen.
You know why our flag is red and black?
Red for the struggle...
and black because the human spirit is dark!
Write that down. Put it in your book.
A woman of the people said it.
What am I saying?
Let's go.
Halt!
Each to his own.
The Englishman and I are going to bed.
That's the way it is.
Pilar...
Don't leave me.
I want to be with you.
I'm sorry.
And up yours!
- What does that mean? - It means no.
Nothing doing. Not on your life.
Was it for you or me?
Both of us, I think.
Greetings.
Is it true that you're a volcano?
I'd like to check it out.
You know what?
You had a previous life, as a woman.
You were a peasant or a washerwoman.
- Well, I don't remember it. - I do. Let's go.
Comrades, don't your tits get in the way when you shoot?
The gonococcus gang.
Let's see.
Attention, girls!
- How many are there? - Ten here, but there are more.
Take off your pants.
Silence!
And your panties.
Silence!
The bottles.
Put your name on the label.
The label's for your name.
Put your name on the label.
You heard, right?
- Send them in one by one. - Very well.
- Hey! What are you doing? - Get out!
For the labels.
"Oh, oh, what labors the Lord does send us,"
"standing up and squatting down again,"
"all day long underneath the sun..."
This is all there is, girls. I'm finished.
- Mine is full. What do I do? - Stop!
- I can't! - Bite your tongue, Mari.
I'm wetting myself!
Girls, this is very serious.
A pathetic example.
Four comrades, who are known to you all...
armor-plated a truck.
A commendable job.
But that truck has never been in action.
Two of them travel the front, showing off their work...
while the other two enjoy leave in Barcelona or Lérida.
They swap around every week without any authorization.
Frankly, I don't want to argue about what is obvious.
Militarization seems inevitable to me.
Listen to me! Pay attention!
I'll go home rather than wear a lieutenant's stripe...
or let you wear one.
And that truck did go into action.
It was decisive in the taking of San Román.
The taking of San Román was strategically useless.
And you know that, Durruti.
Yes, I know that.
Listen carefully.
I don't think any of you can doubt my convictions.
Well, then.
I say that if it's necessary we'll impose an iron discipline.
I'm willing to renounce everything, except victory.
Doctor Santamaria's report. Of ten militiawomen examined...
5 have gonorrhea and 3 are pregnant.
We have more casualties from the clap...
than from enemy bullets.
Contact the transport corps...
and get as many trucks as you need.
Gather up the women century by century.
Send them to Sarinena and on to Barcelona.
- I want no women at the front. - They're not all like that.
Send every one of them home.
Greetings.
There are some things a priest can do better than a layman.
I want you to take care of this problem for me.
Greetings.
Are you in charge?
I am, there's no one else.
- How many? - How many what?
How many women?
None.
- And those? - They have more balls than you.
Comrade...
Great efforts are being made to coordinate the column.
It isn't easy.
The women's presence makes it...
even harder.
We can't prevent a woman from giving her life...
in the struggle against fascism.
We are healthy!
The Association of Free Women...
have organized a laundry service in Siétamo.
You could be of use there.
You needn't go back to Barcelona.
But you must leave the front.
You see?
The same old story.
Can't men run a laundry?
I'll count to ten for you to go.
Maybe some of you don't agree with staying here.
If that's so...
this is your last chance.
Nothing doing, priest! Not on your life!
Your soutane's showing.
I'll be buried here.
No betrayal!
Got any cigarettes?
I'll see you later.
Hi, Faneca.
Take a break, I'll stay.
Got any cigarettes?
Yeah, coming.
Look.
Lieutenant and upwards.
I'm going to try it.
Bastards! Why not learn how to shoot?
Well!
He's for it.
Fuck it!
That's not the way.
Will you let me try?
Let's see.
Not too high, not too low, neither right nor left.
Fuck!
- Do you think I got him? - Right through the eye!
There's confirmation!
It wasn't me.
It was the bullet. I didn't even aim.
They gave us a cap and a bag...
and made us conductors on the trams.
A stupid job, because people get on the trams...
but don't pay, and they're right.
Don't the trams belong to everyone?
One day Olga asked me to come and see a girl from the old days.
We were amazed to see that the pussy game...
is more popular than ever.
Anyway, the union guys gave us a house...
and we've set ourselves up.
There is a constant line of militiamen.
It's better than before for there's no one bossing us.
We've become a collective...
and formed a committee like that militiawoman said.
I'm the treasurer and Julia's the secretary.
The militiamen put up a poster for us which says...
"Respect the woman you choose.
She could be your sister or mother"
I thought mother didn't sound right and suggested "cousin".
That's enough!
It's what she says.
You know where you can go. It's your fate.
I don't want to. Any kind of fucking bores me.
Why don't we all go there and spread syph among the militiamen?
It's the most revolutionary thing we can do.
Maybe, but you look like a tram conductor, not a streetwalker.
That's enough defeatism. Anyone can leave if she wants...
but no messing.
We're not going. They're throwing us out.
Whoever wants to go, let her say so.
- No, fuck it! - No one wants to go.
I don't want to go.
- And you, Mariona? - Me?
I'll think about it when they open the convents.
Everything will start up again. First the barracks, then convents.
Fancy some braised chops?
You'd kill it?
The alarm clock has stopped.
We thought someone had to pay for it.
Will you shoot it?
We'll just cut its throat.
Are you going to kill that poor lamb in front of us?
It's a male, and a fascist as well.
You summon its spirit after.
It'll tell you the same.
Animals! You're just animals!
You're a brute!
- Are you going to eat the chops? - I'm not eating anything!
- Close its eyes at least. - Now we just have to skin it.
All he's ever done in his life is fuck sheep!
Help me, comrades.
Mariona...
Long live Spain!
Get out!
Get out of here!
Have pity on my.
Have pity on this poor servant.
What will I do Lord? Tell me.
Who are you? Why are you wearing this?
Sergeant, see to this woman. Find out who she is.
Burn that filth.
People of San Román...
this afternoon...
the glorious forces of the National Movement...
routed the hordes who were occupying this town...
annihilating the majority of their forces.
The Masonic communist big wigs who enslaved you...
have fled like cowards from the punishment awaiting them...
That's her.
for the savage crimes they committed.
Lieutenant Solanas told me...
that you have some relics of the Virgin of the Pillar.
He also said...
that you admitted to being a nun.
Is that true?
Won't you answer?
Is the weight on your soul as heavy as that?
I'm sorry, father.
I regret this, but God knows...
we don't want you to suffer more than your sins deserve.
One. This population...
is subject to martial law.
Two.
A curfew will be imposed...
from seven in the evening.
Three.
All inhabitants are submitted to military authority...
to which they are obliged to justify their identity...
and their conduct.
Four.
No one may leave the town...
without prior authorization.
Five.
Gatherings of more than three people will not be permitted...
without the express permission of this command.
Did you tear up your ID?
You don't know me, I've never seen you.
I don't know what happened to my family.
We're in the same boat.
- Come on. - To let them kill you.
We won't get out of here alive so, sssh.
Once bitten, twice shy.
A doctor.
- Is there a doctor here? - I'm a nurse.
A militiawoman from San Román is bleeding to death.
Pilar...
Her throat's been cut.
Pilar, what did they do to you?
Say something.
- Won't you talk to me? - It's no use, she can't talk.
Do something.
She's dying.
Don't die.
Don't leave me.
One day...
in the time of the Lord...
this planet will no longer be called Earth.
It will be called Freedom.
That day, the exploiters of the people...
will be cast into the outer darkness...
where there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.
And the angels of Heaven...
on the most high...
will sing in joy as they behold the star Freedom...
more blue and more radiant than ever...
because peace and justice will reign there...
because paradise will always be there...
and death will no longer exist.
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