01x05 - Vania

[bunniefuu]

STAGE 0

MAMMÓN

-Hello, I'm Irene Escolar.
-I'm Ricardo Gómez.

The episode you have chosen,

Mammon,
by Nao Albet and Marcel Borràs,

couldn't be filmed.

For you to understand
why you won't be able to see it,

we have to go back three years.

In November 2017,
Marcel Borras

travelled to Syria
with some archaeologists.

Their objective was to document
the state of some Phoenician sites

in danger of being destroyed
as a consequence of the civil w*r.

As well as documenting the trip with
his camera, Marcel kept a diary.

November 15, 2017.

"This airplane full of men in turbans
and women with their faces covered,

takes us to a completely new, different
and unknown place, at least for me.

We'll be landing in two hours
and I'm both excited and sh*t scared.

We'll be staying in a safe zone.

That's what I told my parents,
that we'd be far from the conflict.

But in reality, I have no idea.

Who the hell can control a w*r?

We will be escorted
by soldiers from the Syrian Army.

November 19, 2017.

The buildings and the streets
were seen to be damaged by bombings.

Walls demolished
and facades marked by shrapnel.

What struck me the most

were the clothes
sprawled throughout the wreckage.

I guess the people who wore them
are no longer around,

it makes me feel uneasy.



We visited the site where
the myth of Mammon was born.

It tells the story of two families
who lived in a valley in perfect harmony.

It was a valley
full to the brim with gold mines.

Mammon was a demigod
who came down to Earth

to try and help these families.

since there was a prophecy
had foreseen great pain for them.

Mammon realizes that the families
are unaware of the value of gold.

He brings them
to closest market in the city

and advises them to buy weaponry
for this supposed forthcoming tragedy.

But instead,

the families were going crazy over
everything they could buy with the gold.

Mammon tries to make them see sense

but the already corrupt families
expelled him from the valley.

That was when all goodness
disappeared,

giving way to resentment,
greed and hate.

This story would be great as a play.

I'll have to tell it to Nao.

This is Nao Albet,
the other author of Mammon.

Nao and Marcel met when they were 14
and have been inseparable since.

At 16, they did their first play,

which they wrote and starred
in together,

and since then,
they've put on nine more shows.

When Marcel told Nao about
the vividness of Syria

and the idea of writing a play
inspired by the myth of Mammon,

Nao was immediately excited
about the project and began writing.

A few months later, they'd finished
a theatrical version of this myth.

-This is Marcel's diary.
-When he was in Syria.

In September of 2018,

Nao and Marcel travelled to Brussels

for a meeting
with the Toneelhuis theatre.

One of the theatres
with the biggest budget in Europe.

There, they agreed upon a co-production.

Toneelhuis provided 120,000 euros,
and this theatre

provided 40,000 plus the infrastructure.

Once the 160,000 euro budget
had been approved,

pre-production began.

Look, here are the costumes.
Look.

Mammon, me...

A fantastic Norwegian designer
had designed them, Heckla Magnusdötir.

This is what Riki wore...

-Hi, Irene, how are you?
-Hi.

-Are you doing the documentary?
-Yes.

-If you need me, give me a shout.
-Okay. Thanks, Fer.

They did read-throughs
with the leading actors,

including Luis Tosar,
whom they'd envisaged as Mammon,

and Carmen Machi who was
to play Marfa, the great matriarch.

Irene and I would play Barabbas
and Evangelina,

the eldest child
of each of the families.

They did the initial run-throughs
with the orchestra.

Nao came up with
an original soundtrack for the play.

And Alfredo Bachetti
designed the set.

They held auditions with dancers.

In order to draw similarities

between the Phoenician myth
and current w*r in Syria,

they wanted it to be
an indirect testimony of Syrian refugees.

Let's pick up Mammon's story again.

After a huge argument, the families
decide to expel Mammon from the valley.

As he wandered lost through the desert,
he asked the god Baal to guide him.

Baal told him to go back to the valley
one last time.

But by the time he gets there,
it was too late because...

the families had k*lled each other.

They're all dead.

At this point,
the most dramatic in the whole play,

the structure that you see
rose up very slowly,

and from up here, Luis Tosar,

I don't know if you can see him,
had the final monologue

after the great battle,

when he recognizes his guilt
for all those terrible things.

These stones
are nothing but stones, you fools.

Perhaps prettier than the others
but useless and lifeless.

So pretty

you called them precious.

And granting such pre-eminence,

where is freedom?

Gold has been considered superior
to all other elements thanks to man.

Yet gold corrupts man,
driving him mad

and k*lling him.

It's the most ungrateful
and treacherous of all materials.

Disputes of hatred and blood
longing for supremacy,

you will all lie dead in the mire
when the sun takes its leave of the day.

At the end of the third verse
it started to rain blood.

Not real blood, but a liquid posing as it.
That was the idea.

Installing a structure that made it rain
blood over the 12 actors' bodies

and over their Syrian collaborators.

It was a very powerful image.

As you can see, we were extremely
involved with this show.

-We thought it was an interesting project.
-Not only that, we knew them personally.

I was Nao's friend. We'd been talking
about it for over a year.

We even had a Whatsapp group and
we'd stayed in contact for over a year.

One month before the rehearsals,
we realized they didn't answer our calls,

or our texts.
No one knew anything about them.

We wanted to know what had happened,
so we decided to travel to Barcelona.

What did we find?

First: they weren't there

and second:
the Toneelhuis Theatre in Brussels

had decided
not to give them the 120,000 euros.

Seventy-five percent of the production
had gone to sh*t.

The theatre's production team
didn't know anything about it either.

And amid the material we gathered
which we are showing you,

there was an e-mail.

Written by Iván Morales,
a director and playwright friend of theirs.

It read as follows:

"Dear friends, comrades:
believe me, I understand how you feel.

After so long preparing the project,
writing the script,

getting such a great team together
and in the final stages,

that this has happened to you...

Sometimes life gives us challenges
we weren't expecting,

and that we can learn from.

Regarding what you had told me
this morning,

I hope this idea is the product
of a few puffs of white widow...

which is a strain of marijuana.

It left such an impression on me
that it came in a flash.

Years ago I met a guy,
at a friend's wedding one night

which was all but foreseeable.

He calls himself Dylan.

Anyway, this guy is a gambler,

and a good one.

I searched him on Facebook and
found him under the name, Dylan Bravo.

Jaime, would you mind
reading the next phrase, please?

"Are you really thinking of betting
the money for the show at the casino?"

We met with this guy for 20 minutes
so he could explain...

-In theory, he will do it.
-Tell it from the start.

-Dylan Bravo.
-We were going to do a play.

We had all the dough and suddenly,
three months ago, it all fell apart.

-We've only got a quarter: 40,000.
-We're considering how to get the rest.

We met up with him and
he said he could help us.

He can do it, so... wait...

I'll ask for the address,
wait here, Oläf. I'll be back in a minute.

I'll tell you about Kendrish Musteiev.

He's a Russian philosopher who has
an essay: "On matter and chance,"

where he says that matter,
in this case these 40,000 euros...

I'm nervous, man.

He says that matter
is always in a risky ring

and when the object in question
enters in this real world

it enters in a ring of functional
exchanges and multiplicities.

The guy was a Russian communist
and...

He's miles away. We have to go.
Stop filming, we have to go.

And... We're in Las Vegas.
It has to be said.

LAS VEGAS, UNITED STATES

That day they went to meet Dylan,
Iván's contact,

the guy who had to help them
get the money.

No, I don't play anymore.

-What?
-Another?

-You don't play?
-What do you fancy?

-You don't play?
-No, I don't.

-So then...
-I can help you out.

-How, if you don't play?
-We don't know how to play.

We thought you'd play.

You pay for the drinks, right?

-Can't you play for us?
-Impossible.

No, I can't right now.

I can help, I can teach you techniques,
we'll talk about all that.

-First of all, what the f*ck is this?
-He's filming it, it's a documentary.

-We don't know yet.
-Oläf wants to film everything.

The first time they mention the idea
of doing a documentary is right now.

Apparently it has nothing to do with them,
rather with Oläf, the guy with them.

We don't know who he is.

No, you can't film inside the casinos.
At the tables it isn't allowed.

No, you'd better not.

They see you on camera acting strange

and in two minutes they come
and numb you with a Taser.

What's a Taser?

-One of those g*ns...
-Those g*ns that numb you.

It f*cking hurts.

-That's how they bring cheats down.
-Have they done it to you?

Yes, some time ago.
But that isn't the worst.

We don't want to cheat.
If they say anything we'll stop filming.

-What's the worst?
-What they do to you in their offices.

What do they do?

Things.

Did you cheat?

I've been here almost 15 years
and I've done everything.

Great song.
The time I got caught...

It's a great story, quite disturbing.

I was seeing a Mexican girl, Rita,
she was amazing, a real hot chick.

Rita had a brother,
she has a brother, Bernardo.

This bit isn't important,
we'll fast-forward and stop... here.

-That was nine years ago.
-Did you go to prison?

Prison would've been okay.

No, they want names.

Someone higher up than Bernardo
passed on the information.

You tell him...

-So, 120,000 you said?
-Yes, but we don't want to cheat.

Me neither.

It's a bit of an odd time right now,

I've no flat, I can help you though.

But I was wondering...
You're in a hotel, right?

-Yes.
-Have you got a sofa...?

-Sure!
-Yeah, come over.

As the days went by...

Look, this isn't like in the films.

...they became hypnotized
by the city, by Dylan...

That mafia, the gambling,
the drugs, the wh*res...

-They flip out in films.
-They jotted things down...

-They fall short in films.
-Which they hadn't done for months.

In the good and the bad,
but take it easy, we're in Las Vegas!

Nao writes:

"The first thing people do here
is go to a casino to try their luck.

Some don't even go to the hotel
to leave their suitcases.

And that's exactly what we've done.

You feel sorry
for a lot of people in here.

Most gamble
in altered states of consciousness

or when their mental powers
are on the low.

Dopeheads, drunkards,
idiots and old ladies.

Those are the kinds of people that lose.

But we have come to win."

GOLD VALLEY HOTEL, ROOM 314

Right, I suppose you know
how gambling works:

if the ball lands where you have bet,
you win, if not, you lose.

There are more than a thousand
variables, so you have to know them all.

This bet is known as the split,
a straightforward bet: odd, even.

These are the outlines Dylan gave them.

Thirds, when you bet a third,
four numbers.

Example: 6,7,8,22
which covers the free space in the sector.

Very good bet,
only if you've won previously.

We'll fast-forward the video again.

Dylan explained over 50 variables
and we came to... This moment!

But the most important thing
in this game

is patience.

If you stick to your bet,
sooner or later you'll win,

and that's the time to fold.

This is a rabbit's foot,

it brings good luck.

You'll take it in turns.
One plays, the other stay here.

To make sure you don't lose too much.

Time flies when you're winning,
but goes by slowly when you're losing.

You must dare to bet heavily
when intuition tells you.

Yes, but how will we know
when it's telling us?

It's a tough exercise,

you have to listen to your inner self.

And this...

-Might help.
-What?

-White.
-Coke?

You have to go on for hours, energy.

-It will keep you alert.
-Hang on.

-We have to sniff coke to gamble?
-To withstand hours and hours gambling.

-No.
-It awakens my intuition personally.

-Sure.
-I don't want any.

-Intuition is important.
-Yeah, but I don't want any.

It's important.

Fine, as you please.

You go with 300 dollars in the morning,


If you lose and are left with a quarter,
then you can come back.

If you quadruple the initial sum,
then you can come back.

Down there, everything is designed
to throw you off track:

the lights, the music, the temperature,

they have sh*t walls
so that the echo of the voices

penetrates your brain and distracts you.

If you feel tired and you don't want
to try any of this,

you come back.

Right, my fees...

if I can use
the first 200 dollars you win, for...

I'm happy.

-For what?
-Yes. Perfect.

Oläf, man, nine hundred dollars!

Wow, man!

This is amazing!

"A very strange friend of Dylan's
visited us today.

In fact,
all Dylan's friends are very strange."

Dylan!

Dylan!

Come in, Mike.

-No worries, he's straight.
-Me too.

No, not him.

-Dylan, buddy!
-How's it going?

-Hey, how's things?
-I get by.

The Parish makes less and less money.
Not like when my father ran it.

Times have changed.

Are you one of those priests
who marries people dressed like Elvis?

No, not Elvis anymore.

People want you to marry them
dressed like Justin Bieber,

Lady Gaga, Hanna Montana
any f*cking person.

What have you cut it with?

Who do you think you're talking to?

-My sh*t is pure, man.
-Like hell.

The sh*t I sell you is.
You can't complain.

Dylan's taste is too fine,
there's no fooling him.

This dealer
also marries wh*res and tourists.

-We said 200, right?
-Yes.

Do you mind if I pay with chips?

Perfect.

-I was told you couldn't gamble anymore.
-I don't.

Don't be a pain in the a*s.

I'm here helping out a colleague.
From here. I don't move from here.

-I won't go to hell, over my dead body.
-Hell?

Hell is what the Chicanos call casinos
because they're bloody hot.

In the '70s...

"Casinos started to offer
a free bar service

to all those who bet one single coin.

They realized
that the drunker the gamblers were,

the more they bet and lost.

The temperature can reach 35ºC.
The hotter you get, the thirstier you get.

The thirstier you are, you drink more,
you bet more, you f*ck it up more!

-Dylan, aren't you doing any more films?
-I'm doing one with this guy.

-He's a director.
-No!

-You're an actor?
-Yes.

-This guy made a film...
-Which?

-A film.
-This b*stard.

-You know Quentin Tarantino?
-No sh*t, which film?

Not that one, the Chicano.

-Robert Rodríguez.
-Yeah.

The vampire film.

-From Dusk Till Dawn.
-Abierto hasta el amanecer?

-You're in that f*cking film?
-Yes, in part three.

Come on, these are on me!

"Dylan is full of f*cking surprises."
Writes Nao.

"He first stepped into Las Vegas


I can see it in his eyes,
he's surprised.

If 15 years seem a lot
or a little to him, I can't tell."

My character was called Dylan.

Everyone called me Dylan,
even at parties after the sh**t.

No one bothered to learn my name,

yet with Danny f*cking Trejo...

Danny Trejo. Machete!

They called him by his name, but not me,
I was Dylan and that's that.

And I added the surname Bravo.
I thought I'd have an artistic name,

a catchy name,
and Dylan Bravo was perfect.

No one knows his true identity.

We wrapped up the sh**t in Las Vegas.

We filmed in the Mojave Desert,


The thing is,

I could be days without filming
because I only had a small part.

So, the first few days
I tried to live a normal life in the city,

but here in Las Vegas,
a normal life is gambling

and drinking.

So I soon took an interest in gambling.

Objectively at first,
without getting involved with money.

I was only interested in the booze.
I went easy on the betting.

Let's see...

I come from a family...
Well, we didn't have much money, right?

Now I had some,
I wasn't going to waste it

betting on a game
I didn't know a f*cking thing about.

Anyway,

after a week learning,

watching carefully,

really carefully,

I sat at the first Black Jack table.

And I lost the whole lot like a b*stard!

-What the hell are you doing?
-Waiting for you, b*stard!

-How did it go?
-I've come to get 500.

-Have you lost?
-Yes, but I've got it sussed.

-I'll go back down.
-It's his turn.

-It's my turn, slacker!
-You go down, with 500.

-I almost had it sussed, man.
-Listen, little lizard.

You'll stay with me now, he'll go down,
it's perfect timing.

-Marcel, are you ready?
-He's Marcel. I'm Nao.

-Nao, are you ready?
-I think so.

-Who's the f*cking boss?
-I'm the f*cking boss!

Who's gonna play f*cking good?

-I am!
-I wanna see all the energy in the world!

All the energy
in the whole f*cking world!

-Shall I sniff another?
-No, no need. You go.

Marcel writes:

"Today, after gambling
over eight hours non-stop,

my head was throbbing,
unaware of time and anything at all.

And I've started to tell Dylan
about the play we want to do."

And once that guy is up there,

he sees everyone is dead,
they've all k*lled each other.

And he delivers a final monologue,
kind of tragic.

He starts the monologue and we've got
a cool idea: it starts raining blood.

-Drops gradually fall...
-Fake blood.

A structure over the whole theatre,
and lots of blood.

That's one of the most expensive things.

That and Luis Tosar,
he's a bit expensive too.

-A sad story.
-It's a tragedy.

-What's it called?
-"Mammon".

-Bloody hell, "mamón" means w*nk*r.
-No, two m's in the middle.

It's an Aramaic word.

For the Phoenicians, Mammon
is the god of prosperity and wealth.

It's cool, it crops up
throughout history, in the Bible,

but not as a god:
as the devil of avarice.

A double meaning:

for the Phoenicians it was good,
for Christians it was nasty.

Christians are always...

I should know,
I studied with Franciscans.

-Listen, I want to read it.
-Really?

It's at the hotel,
I'll give it to you later.

Right, you're gonna have
a whale of a time now.

You bet! I'll take you to a place,
you'll have a whale of a time.

"In this city
there are more striptease clubs

than supermarkets,
coffee shops or cinemas.

They're everywhere and for all tastes.

Dylan knows all the clubs.

He tells us that when he's sad
he goes to a striptease club with dwarves

who dance to Phil Collins' songs.

It's hard to imagine
this 50-year-old kid sad."

This is the girl!

Give me a whisky and a shot.

This is Crystal.

Crystal worked as a prost*tute
until she came of age.

I met her
six months before she turned 21,

when she was still a prost*tute.

She's like a sister to me, a real friend.

Her father was a swine from Dallas.

He forced her to dance in their garage

for a small group of drunkards
and guys who are sick in the head.

She wanted to rebuild her life,
have a house and kids

and perhaps a dog
with a name like yours.

Nah, just a play on words.

She ran away from home.
But with nothing at all, penniless.

She was very young with
no qualifications. What could she do?

Have you got 20 bucks?
Give her 20 bucks, man.

When she arrived in Las Vegas
she didn't plan on staying long,

just a stop-off on her roadmap.

None of us living in Las Vegas
came to stay.

But here she found an easier way
of earning a living:

accompanying men at the gambling
tables. It's common to see.

I saw her for the first time
at the Taj Majal, at a poker table.

She was accompanying a man,

looking at him compassionately.

She knew she'd fleece him.

When he only had a few chips left,
she asked to play a hand and she won.

They left the table with more money
than when they'd started.

She's a good player.

Later on,
I was walking over to the bar for a drink,

and she was sitting there.

I congratulated her on the game

and with a very sweet voice

she asked me my name.

And for the first time, in a long time,

I instinctively told her my real name,

I asked her where her client was,
the guy she'd been playing with.

And laughing she said,

"Is it so obvious I'm a wh*re?"

"Yes, my girl, yes,

but don't worry,

I won't tell anyone."

She told me that the b*stard
hadn't given her one single dollar,

he wanted to shag her first.

I slagged off
that f*cking disgusting stockbroker.

That's how I won Crystal's affection.

Do want to see
what this place is like inside?

-What's your mate's name?
-Oläf.

Oläf, film this, mate.

We'll see how cool it all is first,
then we'll gamble.

Now you can see they
had gone to Las Vegas

to get money to make Mammon,
but now they're in a strip club.

No, this way.
That door.

-In here, mate.
-Here?

Yes, yes.

-What's up, girl?
-What are you doing here, Dylan?

-I've come to see my dancer.
-Don't you remember?

You remember.
Come on, come in.

-No. Who are these guys?
-They're friends.

-We'll wait outside.
-Come in, quick.

Oläf, quick, come in.

They don't want Dylan in here.
I'm close to being kicked out.

-All right...
-Wasn't Jared at the door?

-No, there was no one.
-Let's go...

-You're making me look like a criminal.
-Clients can't come in here.

-I'm not a client today.
-Because you're skint.

-Who are these guys?
-Friends, they're in show business.

Hi, I'm Nao.

I'm a dancer, not a wh*re.
It's full of girls to choose from outside.

Crystal, don't worry, they know me here,
I'm like one of the family.

They're just leaving, Desi.

-You're finished, Crystal.
-I told them to leave.

-And I'm the Virgin Mary.
-I swear, dammit.

-They were leaving.
-You're out, Crystal.

-I'm going to tell Jared.
-It's my fault...

-Dylan, shut it.
-Honestly, it was my fault.

I wanted to introduce some friends.
They're directors, they need actresses.

-Hi, I'm Nao.
-David Guetta and Eminem for all I care.

-Didn't you want to be an actor?
-Natasha wants to be an actress, idiot!

-And you're out.
-Don't film me, pervert.

I know I haven't been good to you of late.

And I know Dylan shouldn't be here,
but please, don't tell Jared.

-I promise...
-I don't give a sh*t.

-I need the money.
-You're a f*cking liar.

-She's asking you nicely.
-f*ck off.

-She's asking you nicely!
-What are you doing, as*h*le?

"Jared was a bouncer, six foot tall,
who kindly asked us to leave the club.

Dylan tells us that when he played
accompanied by Crystal he always won.

Given that we've lost 10,000 dollars,
he insisted on us meeting her."

Honey, everything happens
for a reason...

Shut it, Dylan, shut it,
I've been kicked out cos of you.

Crystal, think of nice things.

Yeah, your head stuck up your a*s.

I guess you're not having much luck.

You wouldn't be here otherwise.

-Winning is harder than it looks.
-Tell him about it.

Crystal, honey, shut up.

I'll insult you
as much as I want tonight.

You deserve it, b*tch.

If you're losing so much,
take them to a gambling den.

-Where?
-I can't take them to one of those.

-Why not?
-Because I can't.

-How much have you lost?
-Ten thousand dollars.

-What? What do you play?
-The roulette.

-They don't know how to play cards.
-What you said about the gambling den,

-why do you think it's better?
-Because the wagers are much higher.

-For f*ck's sake, Dylan!
-Well, we'll see.

Not tonight.
We've lost enough today.

-More coffee?
-No.

Dylan, I'll sleep with you tonight,
I'm not going back to that sl*t's house.

I'm with these guys, at The Gold Valley.
Ask them to invite you over.

-Yeah, sure.
-I can do a private dance for you.

-No, there's no need for a dance.
-Or maybe there is.

Well, I'm going to see a lady friend.
Fancy coming?

-A tart.
-She isn't a tart.

-Yes, she is, Dylan.
-Not always.

When I've got money, I pay her.
So then, are you coming, blockheads?

-No, we're going to the hotel to gamble.
-We could go for a last drink.

We said we'd go to the club,
then back to the hotel to gamble.

-We can have the last one with this girl.
-We've lost 10,000 dollars.

-We've lost 10,000 dollars.
-I got that.

I think it's time to make a bet

to help us decide what to do tonight.

Take... this building.

Crystal and I say that the next light
to light up will be...

Top half or bottom half?

Bottom half.

I bet on the top half.

If any of those lights light up,
you don't go whoring,

Crystal sleeps wherever she can,
and we go to the hotel.

-Don't be such a b*stard.
-b*stard, my arse,

we have to concentrate on gambling,
with a wh*re we can't.

-Don't offend the girl.
-I'm a dancer, not a wh*re.

He's no idea, you're a princess.

I was talking about the girl
Dylan wants to bring to our room.

Well, she is.

I didn't intend taking her to your room,
I'm not that crazy.

-This is sh*t.
-Shut up.

There we go!

"We've been gambling for six days.
From 10 a.m. until 5 a.m.

We've become sl*ves to gambling.

We sleep little and don't eat well,

but we follow Dylan's instructions
down to the finest detail.

Even so, the numbers don't come up.

We've lost half the money we came with.

After losing, we go back to the room,
sweating, cursing our bad luck.

Not even Crystal has been able
to make the games change direction."

I've never seen
anyone so unlucky in all my life.

f*cking sh*t game.

Whatever I bet on,
it came out the opposite.

Dilly,

can't you play?

No, I can't. I can't.

Why not?

Remember the as*h*le
and that slot machine fiddle? Bernardo.

It happens that I owe him ten big ones,


We all know one another around here.
I can't.

-Bernardo and his nard.
-Crystal.

-What's up?
-Be quiet.

Bernardo José Guzman de los Santos,
also known as the f*ck of Aces,

has got the biggest d*ck
in the whole of Las Vegas.

-Because he's good at Texas Hold'em.
-And because it's disproportionate.

Come on.

Bernardo honours his name, not like you,
there's nothing Bravo about you.

-What the hell do you want?
-Go down and play.

-You want them to k*ll me?
-You're a coward.

-Forget this sh*t. I'm going to play.
-What are you doing?

-It's my turn.
-Why are you holding me?

-Get off.
-Hey, it's his turn, dammit.

For f*ck's sake, we're getting
nowhere with your tactics.

That's how it goes, pal.

-You said you'd help us out.
-Sure.

-That this wh*re was a lucky charm.
-What are you on about?

We crossed the bloody Atlantic
for this sh*t.

We're losing everything.

-Stop!
-I want to do the bloody play.

I do too
but I don't act like a dickhead.

-This guy has no f*cking idea.
-He's one of the best players in Vegas.

And he can't afford a bloody hotel room.

-He's down on his luck.
-Come on!

Are you away with the fairies
or you want to suck my prick?

-What are you talking, man?
-Spanish.

If I'd wanted to swindle you

you think I'd have stolen your money
in front of your bloody eyes?

-I didn't say that!
-Yes, you did.

I just want to help, okay!

That's why I tell you not to gamble,
look at you.

You want to go to "hell" like that?

You'll be like a kid in a pederasts club,
they'll eat you alive.

You don't realize it,
but I use subtle tactics,

like introducing you to Crystal
so you'd relax a bit.

But not even God can make you relax.

And with that stress
you'll never win a bloody thing.

Right,

how much is left?

Fourteen thousand.

With a few good games
we'll get it back.

Tell them, Crystal.

Nao.

Nao, please.

We're about to do something really good.

I've read it, Nao.

It moved me.

Where...?

Mammon.

I told you, it moved me.

Right.
What do you want?

Do I walk out that door
and you sort it out alone or do I stay?

-f*ck, Dylan.
-No, what do you want?

-You stay. I want you to stay.
-What about you?

-Yes.
-Yes, what?

Tell him to stay. Marcel tell him to stay.

Help us.

Right, little gays,

get something warm.

What?

A jacket, dammit,
something to cover you.

Come on.

We left the hotel.

It had been six days since we felt
the fresh hair on our faces.

Dylan and Crystal
had led us far from the city.

The last time I was in a place
like this was in Syria,

visiting ancient Phoenician cities,

places that were punished by time.

There, it was so easy
to imagine the smell of blood

every time you came across a b*llet
shell or debris from explosions.

It seemed like a dream.

All this felt like one too.

Dylan took out a little metal box
from his jacket.

SOMEWHERE
IN THE MOJAVE DESERT

He opened it carefully

and took a few pieces of dried,
crumpled peyote

that was hard to chew.

It took 30 minutes to feel its effects.

A new reality
appeared before my eyes.

Sit down.

Sit down.

Sit down.

Every now and again,

breathe through your left nostril,

which controls your subconscious.

And we call...

We call on the cosmos.

We have three wishes:

to win money.

Let's be more specific, to do what?

To do Mammon.

Let's go further, to do what?

To save humanity.

Stretch out.

Stretch out.

Stretch out.

-Are there any snakes here?
-Yes, but they're harmless.

Snakes are sacred animals.

Feel...

feel the contact with Mother Nature.

Crystal, come here, girl.

-Allahu Akbar...
-Marcel, Marcel.

-Allahu Akbar...
- -Marcel, Marcel.

-Allahu Akbar...
-Marcel, repeat with me.

-Repeat. Repeat with me.
-Ahmed!

All that suffering isn't my fault.
That w*r isn't my fault.

-That death isn't my fault.
-It's not my fault.

-That suffering isn't my fault.
- It's not my fault.

Dylan, man.

Dylan, man.

Thanks. Thanks, man.

I love you, Dylan.

I love you, Dylan.

Dylan.

Father, what shall I do?

Show me the way.

I've sh*t my pants.

After this episode
we lose track of them for three days.

Neither of them write in their diaries.

There's a three-day gap
in which we know nothing at all.

And the next thing we find is

Dylan's rabbit foot...

You see?

-A napkin from a strip club.
-No, no.

It isn't a strip club, it's a wh*re club.

Say it right, it's a wh*re club.

A... A wh*re club.

With Nao's handwriting, which reads:

"As it happens, Las Vegas is,
after the Chinese city of Macau,

the place with most
ill*gal gambling dens in the world.

It's odd that the city
with most casinos in the world

is the second
with most ill*gal gambling dens.

The gamblers set the wagers:

genuine addicts capable of betting
all kinds of strange things,

from mothers
to castles on Cucumber Street.

And in his diary, Nao writes,

"Dylan finally thinks
we're ready to take part,

and with things as they are,

with the need to multiply
what we have left,

he has given us an address:
Gilmore Av. with Capitan Way.

To the west of the city.

The restaurant was called Wi-Shei Yang.
Or something like that.

A family restaurant
with very few families,

except the one working there.

After saying to the Chinese doorman
the password Dylan had given us..."

Yellow Slim.

"...he made us enter an alley
to the right of the main door

and we crossed the kitchen
until we reached a kind of storeroom

which stank of fried food."

FAMILY RESTAURANT STOREROOM
OF THE WI-SHEI YANG.

-Calm down.
-I am calm.

Good, because I'm not.

"To be honest,
they weren't intimidating,

but the situation
made my hair stand on end.

The gamblers were:
on the right, a Chinese taxi driver,

small and very nervous.

He looked as though he was high
on coke due to a mouth tic he had."

The b*stard can't stop moving his jaw.

-Calm down, man.
-I am calm.

Stop insulting people then.

Opposite us, a man in his sixties,
who looked half dead,

didn't want to say his name
when Marcel pestered us

with a round of presentations.

Hang on...

"Messi is from Argentina,"
said the third gambler.

A black guy with a lot of dough
which he never stopped shelling out.

Finally, the last gambler arrived.

A Russian, who sat to our right,
his face full of scars,

the kind you don't get
from playing with your kids.

And since I haven't reached the mark,
I add this phrase I've just made up:

Marcel, don't overdo it.

So then, Texas Hold'Em.

What those people didn't know
is that we knew Dylan,

the best poker player in Las Vegas.

Nor did they know that he had taught us
to play over the past two weeks.

Whilst one of us was on the roulette,
the other stayed in the room with Dylan,

learning to play poker,
the least risky game in Las Vegas,

the game you had more chances
of winning if you knew how to play.

We'd become real professionals.

We'd studied all the bloody tactics,
watched the best games.

And we had learnt
from one of the best players in the world.

But Nao started to smell of sh*t.

-That's not true.
-Yes, it is.

I was scared they could rob us
or something even worse.

If we won, those dodgy looking people
would probably get angry.

And this Chinese sh*t h*le doesn't
seem to have any kind of security.

We kept sniffing coke
which made me even more paranoid.

-We sniffed too much coke in Vegas.
-We followed the same casino strategy.

Whilst one played,
the other calmly watched from the bar.

Luck was on our side
and Dylan's tactics were working.

The first to fall was the cool Russian,
Nao fleeced him seven big ones.

Marcel fleeced the old guy
and the black guy with a kings full.

We started to get back
all that we'd lost.

We played against more than twenty
people. For more than seven hours.

-We were the sensation of the night.
-The sensation of the month.

-The sensation of the year.
-And then, he arrived.

f*ck of Aces, f*ck of Aces,
f*ck of Aces.

-Hey, you speak Spanish, right?
-Hang on...

-Marcel, I'd call it quits.
-I have a hunch.

-Let's rest and come back tomorrow.
-I'm fine for playing.

I'd recognized Bernardo
cos Dylan kept talking about him

and as I guess you all did
from the bloody music when he entered.

But I wasn't supposed to recognize him.

-Honestly, man, let's go.
-Have a whisky at the bar.

The Chinese girl
starts dealing out the cards.

I sit at the bar

and I ask a scared-looking
Chinese boy for a highball.

He seems to want to tell me
that we're making a mistake by staying.

Now, the players are a Yankee,
an Irishman and an Italian.

All this seems a bloody joke.
And of course, Bernardo.

I'm nervous because everyone
seems to have a lot of dough

and they're keen to bet.

Suddenly I remembered
what Dylan had told me

about knowing when to quit.

How do you think I went bust?

With the money I had
and the humble life I was used to,

it would have taken me years to spend it.

I lost all the money gambling.

In this game,
the most important thing

is knowing when to quit.

The Irishman has bet the maximum
and they all call.

Twenty thousand dollars on the table.

The Chinese girl deals the flop.

A six of hearts,

a king of clubs,

a two of clubs.
The betting begins.

The first to speak is the Yankee,
under the g*n,

he says he checks,
tapping his fingers on the table.

The Irish guy does exactly the same.

You have to go like this
with your fingers.

It's the Italian guy's turn.
He looks at his cards,

he looks at the flop,

he smiles, and bets 3,000 dollars.

Marcel smiles back at him
and bets 6,000 dollars.

"Marcel, watch what you're doing,"
I say to myself.

They all call.
Only on the first round of bets

the money on the table
totals 50,000 dollars.

Where do these people
get the dough from?

In these kinds of gambling dens,

people aren't there for the sake of it,
they're sick,

guys who've banned themselves
from entering casinos.

And when they bet, they really bet.

Dammit, I've cut myself.

I've finished my drink
and I've ordered another.

I'm sweating,
I look more nervous than he does.

Now it's Bernardo's turn.

Up until now he's bet 10,000 dollars,
but in order to see the next card,

he has to add another 28,000.

What you reckon, little Spanish man?

Bernardo, showing off,
puts down 40,000 dollars instead of 28.

I'd never seen so much money
all at once: 120,000 dollars!

The Yankee and the Italian
throw down their g*ns,

an invitation to a duel of death.

You have to clear off,
it's a metaphor. You can go.

Now it's Marcel's turn.

He has to call

with 12,000 dollars.

Marcel looks at Bernardo.

With the 38,000 we've bet,

we still have the 40,000
we came to Las Vegas with.

If you're bluffing or more stoned
than Dylan on New Year's Eve,

the most sensible thing
would be to fold.

In gambling and in love,
the most daring is the winner.

Marcel calls with the whole lot,


"Stupid idiot,"

Bernardo must think.
I think you're nuts, you son of a b*tch.

There are 149,000 dollars on the table
and nothing in our pockets.

If Bernardo sees them,
the cards will be shown before the river.

One hundred and eighty
thousand dollars.

The cards will decide whether this money
will be for buying kilos of cocaine

and sniffing it in the most luxurious
suites in Las Vegas,

or for doing our great play.

Marcel shows his cards.

Bernardo does the same.

Then he starts laughing.

Marcel has three of a kind
and Bernardo a full house.

For those who don't know how to play
Poker:

right now, we're really f*cked.
Okay?

We've got a 2.29% chance of winning.

Marcel has a three of a kind, with twos
and Bernardo a full house.

Only with another two
will Marcel get a poker

which will win
Bernardo's full house,

but it's almost impossible
for this to happen.

The Chinese girl moves towards
the last card of the game: the river.

Give me a two, girl,
give me a two, give me a two...

give me a f*cking two...

f*cking hell!
They won 180,000 dollars!

The expression on Marcel's face
is the rush of adrenalin on winning.

-What happened?
-When you win so much money...

-Did they do Mammon?
-...the perception of the possibilities

that reality offers
increases exponentially.

Can anyone see Mammon?
I can't see Mammon!

Wait.
If we fast forward a little bit,

we'll see them take a taxi to the hotel,
where Dylan and Crystal are waiting.

But before going up to their room,
they stopped off in reception.

They hired a suite.

What happened?

-We won!
-No!

-No!
-Yes, girl, yes.

-How much?
-One hundred and eighty thousand do...!

As you can see, they are very excited.

So excited
that they ask for two bottles of...

Champagne?

-Dom Pérignon.
-Drink, drink, drink, drink...

How gross!

Five hundred dollars a f*cking bottle.

Look, if we fast-forward a little bit,
to just about here...

Look what they did to the poor bellboy.

-Hey, come in, lad. What's your...?
-Frank!

His name's Frank.

We're having a party here
with some mates.

We've won loads of dough.

Loads of dough, Frank!

Loads of dough and we want
to carry on gambling. Right, Frank?

-Lie down, man...
-I can't stay with customers.

Don't be scared, Frank.

Do you want some coke?

They made a few bets with Frank.

This girl is called Crystal,
Crystal as in glass.

She's sky high and really horny.

No one here has any doubts
as to Crystal's abilities

in the art of seduction
and erotic dancing, you know, Frank.

But some question the erection
as the main and only result and...

Can she give you
a hard on in one minute?

-Are you ready, Frank?
-No, no, no, no. Thank you.

Look, if we fast-forward a little bit,

we'll see how Crystal
does a dance for them.

They have a good time.
They laugh.

The most interesting part of this moment
is the look on Dylan's face.

His whole attitude changed.

Look, come over here,
don't be afraid, come closer, look...

-Bloody hell, mate.
-Be careful. Anyway...

It's as though he's started
to mistrust them, even Crystal.

Watching the videos a few times, I see
that Dylan is different with the lads

since they started taking peyote.

Dylan, give us Mike's number.

Mike, the guy that weds
wh*res and tourists.

-What do you want? More coke?
-Yeah, get him to bring more coke.

The coke was to stimulate your intuition.

No f*cking way, man.

-No, the coke is to play better.
-Like hell!

We'll pay and you can sniff for free,
Machete.

-Things are getting out of hand.
-Give me his bloody number!

Dylan ends up giving them his number,
but the situation has got really tense.

And at this precise moment, here...

If we watch at a different speed,

we now see a totally different expression
on his face.

He moves off screen
and doesn't reappear.

-f*ck off!
-Take your bloody rabbit's foot.

Okay. What?
No, sorry, I wasn't talking to you, Mike.

-Listen, we want coke.
-Yes.

No, not what you sell to Dylan.

What you sell to the Congress members.

-Yeah, that.
-Do you want Molly?

MDMA.

-Yeah.
-Okay, we want some. Seven.

No, ten. Ten.

How long will you take?
Half an hour?

No, excuse me,
this isn't really important.

-If we fast-forward...
-The bit with the wh*re.

-Yes, you'll love it!
-The wig.

-You're gonna love it.
-f*ck, Riki.

What's up? They're partying
in Las Vegas, they've won a fortune,

they get some coke, call some...

-It's disgusting.
-As you wish. Look at this.

Two dicks, more expensive.

As you can see the night progresses
and they are spending a lot of money.

It's true that they won 180,000 dollars
in the game against Bernardo

and to do Mammon
they only needed 160,000.

But apart from the cocaine,
the champagne, and the wh*res,

they call Frank,
the bellboy, every ten minutes

to carry on betting
and humiliating him.

Hey, stop, stop.

-Over here.
-Come in.

Right, yes.
Come in. Don't be scared.

Leave it on here.

Has it been paid for?

What the f*ck are you looking at?

Get out of here!

-f*cking sushi!
-Dickhead!

Stop, stop!
Wait a minute!

Watching those party times,

the moment I find most incredible
is when they buy by phone.

They say for an extra 3,000 dollars
they'll bring it up to the room.

-They'll bring it up?
-Yes. They'll bring it up!

-They'll bring it up, Marcel!
-They'll bring it up!

What they did was deplorable,
to be honest.

What was deplorable, Irene?
They're partying in Las Vegas...

-They're young.
-That excuse gets up my arse.

It's hard to believe
this is the Marcel on the Syria video.

Like I said, the adrenaline from winning

can easily lead to a loss of...

Riki, you laugh like a little kid
and it's not funny.

-What? Have you seen this sh*t?
-Yeah? Play the last part.

I'll go down to the casino on this sh*t
and bet 5,000 on black.

-What? No, no...
-Yeah, man.

No, Marcel, don't mess up.

We can make it rain blood at the end.

-Hey.
-We can have a party

and film it, it's better that way.

No, let's try and win more dough.

-I deserve something too, don't I?
-Marcel, man.

Don't go down to the roulette,
you're unlucky with it.

If I go down on this,
I'll be back in five minutes.

You're hooked on the bloody roulette.

And you're hooked on coke.

See?
This is much better. Film this Oläf.

Oläf!

Leave Oläf for f*ck's sake.
I won this dough.

-So what?
-It's more mine than yours.

It belongs to us both, dickhead.

It's more mine than yours
because I won it.

I've been helping you for two weeks
and no one has paid me.

-What? Like hell you've helped.
-Shut it and don't f*ck around with me.

You want to spend the dough on parties
and drinking champagne?

-Sure. It's our play. Our idea.
-What?

-Spending it on wh*res is a work?
-Sure, it's a work of art.

We could spend all of it except
the 40,000 we came to Las Vegas with,

like nothing has happened.

-What are you on about, man?
-Yeah, sure.

We'll give a party to celebrate it now,
and later on, when we get back,

we'll do the play
with two shitty stages and doing mime,

and we'll film it, kind of shabby,
and sell it to HBO.

-What are you on about?
-Why the hell is it licit for a director

to spend thousands of euros
on stage design

and it isn't for us to invest it
in the existential, performative act.

-No, man, I want to do Mammon!
-The Syria thing is a load of sh*t.

What?

It's too far away.

Too far for you, you don't read
the press

and you don't give a damn
what happens.

People don't give a sh*t about what
goes on out there, folk are so selfish.

-You don't know how tough w*r is.
-And you do?

You spent seven days
taking photos like a tourist.

-Do you know what w*r is about?
-I heard bombs. f*cking bombs!

Like hell!

I could have been kidnapped
by the ISIL.

You've no f*cking idea what the ISIL is.

I could be stabbed in the street
but I don't write sh*t plays about it.

Nothing's happened to you
in your whole life.

Your life is of no interest.

-Your life is f*cking sh*t.
-You're a f*cking sham.

-A sham?
-Marcel Borràs, a f*cking sham!

-What about these f*cking paintings?
-What?

-Faking you're caring.
-More caring than you.

What about these f*cking paintings?

We had...

We had 20,000 dollars spare.

Give it to a f*cking NGO.

I do what I can!
I'm weak too. I do what I can, okay?

-And what about Sabadell?
-What?

You can't mention that, man.

-No, man, Nao.
-2011...

No.

-Nao.
-I'll say it.

-You're pissing me off.
-Wait a minute. Cut.

You can't.
Please, stop. Nao.

Nao, what are you doing?

Don't say it.

-Stop it!
-You can't say that.

Over there?

Let's keep going.

And action.

I'll put 5,000 on black.

Don't go down to the roulette,
you're unlucky.

-We can make it rain blood at the end.
-Marcel, don't go down to the roulette.

-You're unlucky.
-I'll be back in five minutes.

-You're hooked...
-Stay clear of the dough.

Christ! What are you doing
with the g*n, Crystal?

We'll give you 200 dollars.

-No! What you owe me!
-She won't sh**t, Nao.

Okay, we'll give you dough.

-Don't point a g*n at me.
-I need to get away.

These things k*ll people.

Grab the f*cking g*n!

A f*cking g*n, f*ck!

You b*tch!
We invite you to coke and we get this?

Drop the g*n.

Drop the g*n.

Don't point it at me and drop the g*n.

-Who's this guy?
-It's Mike, the dealer. I know him.

Mike!

-Where's Dylan?
-They tried to r*pe me.

Stop f*cking around!

-You wanted to touch the girl?
-I've got a g*n too!

How could we want
to r*pe a wh*re when we're rich?

I'm a dancer, not a wh*re.

Bloody fools!
What did you try doing to this lady?

Who is this guy?

I don't know if he's Mike
or Bernardo or who the f*ck he is.

Come on, this is public money
and you have to give it back.

-Come on!
-What?

They could be doing
good productions with this money.

-Hey, wait, I've no g*n!
-Calm down, Irene. It's no big deal.

Careful.

But in a city like Las Vegas,

where everything
is based on what you have,

or what you appear to have,

there are only two kinds of people:

losers

and liars.

We will never know if Bernardo lost


against those two novices

or if he still spins the roulette
or serves drinks,

like thousands of Latin American
immigrants in Las Vegas.

We will never know

if Crystal was really found dead
in that hotel room at The Gold Valley

or if she still wiggles her a*s
with a G-string full of banknotes.

We will never know
if these two ever met all those people,

sniffed all that blow
and shagged all those prostit*tes.

Or if the money they gambled with

really came from your tax contributions,

from the budget to do Mammon
in a public theatre,

or if they and their families went broke.

And now these stones
are nothing but stones, you fools.

Perhaps prettier than the others,

but useless and lifeless.

So pretty
that you called them precious.

And granting such pre-eminence,

where is freedom?

Gold has come to be considered
superior to all other elements,

thanks to man,

yet gold corrupts man,

driving him mad and k*lling him.

It is the most ungrateful
of all materials,

and the most treacherous.

Disputes of hatred and blood
longing for supremacy,

you will all lie dead in the mire
when the sun takes its leave of the day.