Woman On Top Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Woman On Top script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Penelope Cruz movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Woman On Top. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Woman On Top Script




             Once upon a time, in the land of bossa nova,  lived a girl named Isabella.

             When she was born, the gods blessed her  with extraordinary beauty,

             but overlooked one itty-bitty flaw:  Motion sickness.

             Her parents tried everything.

             Conventional medicine, organized religion,

             alternative religion.

             Nothing worked...

             until Yemanja,

             goddess of the sea, took pity on the child  and compensated her with a gift.

             Too frail to play with her friends,

             Isabella spent her days  in the kitchen with the family cook.

             She blossomed into a shy but dazzling girl,

             who could melt the palates  and the hearts of men.

             Isabella dreamed of traveling the world  and becoming a famous chef.

             But when she laid eyes on the dashing  Toninho, all of her dreams took flight.

             It was love... at first bite.

             They fell so madly in love that they knew  nothing could ever keep them apart.

             With Isabella's exotic dishes, Toninho's  new restaurant was the hottest spot in Brazil.

             She did all the work.

             He got all the credit.

             And though she got job offers  from all over the planet,

             Isabella's dreams of worldwide glory would  melt away in Toninho's irresistible embrace.

             Now, Isabella could control her motion  sickness only by controlling her motions.

             If she always drove,

             if she always led,

             if she always stayed on top,

             everything was just fine.

             But some men must always appear to be men,

             no matter what it may cost.


            Isabella! I'm a man!

            I have to be on top sometimes!

            Give me the strength, Yemanja. Please give me the strength to leave him.

            And Bahia!

             Her prayers were answered.

             And thus begins our story of love,

             motion sickness

             and the art of cooking.




             Your attention, please.

             Varig announces the arrival of  flight number     from Rio de Janeiro.

            - Please, I beg you. - There is no way I'm gonna do that.

              Oh, mon, lady! What planet you from?



              Hi. I am Isabella.

              Monica Jones is expecting me.

              Ah, yes. Of course.

              Unfortunately, Ms Monica has been detained.

              Detained? What do you mean, detained?

              Oh, nothing serious. For her, I mean.

              She'll be back in a couple of days. She's left you a key.

              Thank you.

              Have you known Ms Monica long?

              Yes, since we were children, but she left.

              - Bahia has never been the same without her. - I don't doubt it.

              I can't take elevators. I'll walk.

              All right.

              Thank you.

              You're welcome.

              Yemanja, goddess of the sea, she fills our nets with fish every day.

              Accept our offerings.

              - Have you seen Isabella? - No, not since last night.

              - Is something wrong? - Serafina, where is Isabella?

              Go away!

              Hey, hey! Wait, wait!

              You are the son of a fisherman. You must make Yemanja an offering.

              She always gives you the best fish. Come on.

              You can go to hell, Yemanja!

              - Good morning. - Good morning, Miss Oliveira.

              - May I get you a taxi? - I can't take taxis.

              - Thanks. - Of course not.

              Sorry. He's no longer the manager.

              Do you have any openings in the kitchen?

              - Washing dishes? - No. I'm a chef.

              Of course you are, my dear. And I'm Jeanne Moreau.

              I do wonderful codfish balls,

              and I am known for my coconut-basted lobster with passionfruit dip.

              - Do you do fish and chips? - Sorry?

              Fish and chips. It's our most popular special, Thursday nights.

              Yes, I can make fish and chips. Maybe in a spicy batter...

              We're fully staffed.

              - Or plain batter. - Really fully staffed.


              Monsieur Laroche?

              - I'm Isabella. Isabella Oliveira. - And?

              I was the chef at Yemanja in Bahia. Remember?

              Oh, Brazil. I remember.

              - But you, I'm afraid... - You gave me your card.

              You spoke of a possibility of a teaching position.

              Oh, I can't really hire novices.

              The spicy seafood soup.

              Crustaceans marooned in a most exquisite fragrant broth,

              laced with fiery chilies.

              Passion food. Food of the gods.

              But it's too late. The semester has already started.

              Perhaps next year?

              Hyperventilation. The soufflé fell... again!

              It's a class for the "public général." A two-week course.

              I'm sure you wouldn't be interested. Are you?

              What happened? Where are the fish?

              You shouldn't curse Yemanja!

              Good morning. I am Isabella Oliveira, and I am your new teacher.

              I come from a place called Bahia in the northeast of Brazil.

              There we have a very unique way of cooking.

              So I will not give you my recipes.

              I will show you what inspires me in the hope that you will find your own inspiration. OK?

              I think that to cook well, you must bring all your feelings and experience

              to the act of creation.

              Let's start with my passion:

              Chili peppers.

              They're from the Americas, and were found here long before the arrival of Columbus.

              Hold them in your hand. Notice the colors.

              Now sniff.

              OK, what do you smell? Can you describe the sensation?

              How about you?

              I smell...

              a walk on a moonlit beach in Acapulco.

              When did you become a poet?

              What do you expect me to say? It smells like a vegetable?

              So now here's my favorite. "Malagueta" pepper.

              Don't be fooled by its tiny size. On the heat scale it is a very hot ten.

              But what I love most about it is its smell.

              Its aroma.

              And a flavor you can never forget.

              So when you work with the chilies, remember to coat your fingers with oil,

              so your skin won't burn.

              The smooth flavor of a chili is found on the outside part.

              The part that burns are the ribs and seeds.

              That's where the fire comes from.

              I'm sorry.

              I'll be fine. Really. I'll be fine.

               We wrap tonight's broadcast  with thoughts from author Claudia Hunter,

               whose new book, "Women Who Love  Men They Hate," has just hit the shelves.

               Women in love with rotten guys.  Are you one of them?

               Do you love someone  who emotionally jerks you around?

               Are you hooked on a handsome,  charming, strutting peacock,

               who makes wonderful love, but keeps you  hidden away in a small dark kitchen?

              Shut up.

              Go home! Go home! Christ.

              We have no fish, no customers, no chef. Help yourself to whatever's left in the kitchen.

              Thanks, Mr Toninho.

              Hey, come on, man. Don't be like that.

              Ave Maria! Look at the painting!

              All of our fish, there they are.

              - You're drunk. - Still, there they are!

              Toninho, the fishermen are very angry. It's a sign.

              You must make a formal apology to Yemanja.

              What she gives, she takes back. You could lose the restaurant.

              She didn't give me the restaurant. I made it with my own hands, every inch of it!

              This is my life. This and Isabella. And no one is taking it away from me.

              Toninho, what on earth possessed you to do what you did?

              I mean, when a man truly loves his wife, he never lets her catch him.

              - It's insensitive. - And not so smart.

              You're my friends. Why are you making me feel worse?

              I do miss Isabella's coconut shrimp.

              And her delicious sweet "punhetinhas."

              Yemanja, bring her back to me.

              Give me a sign, a clue, a phone number. Do something, or I'II...

              Sign here.

              - Izzy! - Monica!

              - Free at last! - I missed you.

              Thank Estée Lauder, I'm free at last!

              - She wasn't even pretty. - Are you sure?

              I'm playing! Honey, he's a man. They're not like us.

              Faithful, romantic, selective.

              They're like animals on the Discovery Channel: Fuck, fuck!

              - That's disgusting. - I know.

              So what did you do? Why were you in jail?

              - Nikos didn't tell you? - No.

              Remember Dominic? He told me he wanted a real woman that could give him a family.

              So I doctored his goodbye drink and I moralized the dog!

              I used his body as my canvas "au Dominic."

              It's beautiful. In Bahia they would have given you a medal.

              I can't believe the son of a bitch even pressed charges.

              I missed you a lot.

              - You broke my heart when you left Bahia. - What about me? What about me?

              It's not my fault. You were my best friend.

              You know, the retard twins: Little puking girl with boy in a dress.

              But Daddy got called home and it was "Bye-bye, Bahia."

              The diva had to learn how to be all by herself.

              I've never been alone.

              One day I was a child in my parents' home, the next, a wife in Toninho's.

              Well, now, girlfriend, you are gonna learn to be on your own.

              But I'm so Ionely, I can't even cook without thinking of Toninho.

              Yesterday in class I smelt a "malagueta." I nearly chopped my finger off.

              Girlfriend, if you love him that much, forgive him and go on back to Bahia.

              To be locked in a kitchen, while he flirts with woman after woman? No!

              What I have with Toninho is not love. It's a curse.

              If I want to start a new life, I have to get him out of my head,

              out of my skin, him out of me!

              OK. You serious about this curse stuff?


              He is haunting me.

              Then there's only one thing we can do.

              Isabella, what took you so long?

              - Hello.  - I can help you, child, but I warn you,

              there is no lookin' back.

              Yemanja will take your love to the bottom of the sea and you'll never love Toninho again.

              - Are you prepared for that? - Are you prepared for that?


              OK. This is what you must do.

               Find four fat Mephistophelean crabs,

               the heart of an artichoke,

               two ripe female mangoes,     drops of midnight rain...

              The feather of a black rooster.

              The eyes of two boiled catfish.

              And finally, sprinkle the ashes of his burnt photograph.

              Allow me.

              How about this? "What's My Orientation?" Every day we bring out guests,

              and a panel has to guess if they're gay or straight.

               - I wouldn't watch that. - Me neither.

               Dammit, Cliff. Just find me a  :   show  that won't get clobbered by "Xena."

              - I will find you something, Alex, I promise.  - Yeah, well, you better!

              Thank y...

              God, I hate my life.

              - Thank you. - Sure.

              Good morning.

              Thank you.

              Good morning. I am Isabella Oliveira. Welcome to my class.

              I see a lot of new faces here today.

              Oh Lord! Are you nuts? You're crazy!

              My friend, can you take me here?

              Oh Christ.

              - There's no address, mon. - I know. Will that be a problem?

              Now crush the garlic in the mortar with a pinch of salt. Measure with your senses.

              In time your fingers can develop a tactile memory forjust the right amount.

              You've got to ring more doorbells than the Avon lady to find something by this method.

              Sauté the bell peppers, onions, tomatoes and chilies in "dendê" oil.

              Then we add the stock.

              And when it comes to a boil, add the shrimp.

              You will see that they are ready when they turn pink and begin to curl.

              Isn't that beautiful?

              To finish, pour into a nice serving dish

              and sprinkle a little more cilantro.

              - Thank you. - Sure.

               Voilà! Muqueca de camarão.

              And remember: The last and most important ingredient

              is to share it with someone you love.

              I think it always improves the flavor of the dish.

              Well, that's all. Thank you.

              - Too hot for you? - No.


              It's just... new.

              Can I talk to you for a sec?

               If you called every Monica Jones in the book,  you must have unlisted number.

              But she's quite unique.  '  ", braids, great legs and she's a man.

               In San Francisco, that is not unique.

              Until two hours ago my entire definition of cooking was "Remove tinfoil and nuke."

              I have never seen anything like it! The whole room was bedazzled by you.

              - Where did you learn that? - I was a chef in my husband's restaurant.

              - Is that too heavy? - No, it's fine. It's fine.

              But, anyway, I left him.

              Your husband?

              That's great! I mean, why?

              Let's say he was stifling me.

              How could he? How could anyone stifle you?

              You are so... like the air, like the wind, like a fish.

              No... Not like a fi...

              - Come here. I wanna tell you my idea. - I can't.

              - It's OK. - I can't, really.

              Come on, it's OK. You'll be fine.

              Are you all right?

              - I get motion sickness. - That's nothing. When I get anxious, I hiccup.

              Hold on.

              Yeah? Hey, Alex. I did it!

              I got an idea. We are coming right over. You are gonna love it.

              OK, what do you think? A cooking show.

              Just like the class. Your recipes, your style, everything just the way you want it.

              How does that make you feel?

              - A cooking show at " ":  ? - Your wife. She has the travel agent on hold.

              - Why not? Everybody's making dinner. - They're not! Everybody's eating dinner.

              - Nobody wants to watch a cooking show. - Alex, just... just wait one sec.

              Alex, this is Chef Isabella Oliveira.

              Isabella, this is our station manager, Alex.



              A TV show!

              Holy Mary and Rhoda!

              - So who's coughing? - My producer.

              Cliff Lloyd, Monica.


              It's quite a nice place you got here, Monica. It's very... artistic.

              Amazing how you make that sound like an insult.

              Excuse me.

              - I'm makin' him nervous. - No, not at all.

              So, Cliff, what's the show gonna be like?

              Exactly as Isabella wants it.

              How sweet.

              You sure he's a producer?

              - Excuse me? - Yeah?

              - Why does everything have to be so bright? - It's TV.

              I know it's TV.

              But how would it look if we turned off this? And this and this?

              I don't know. Give it a try.

              Looks good to me.

              That's it for us. Stay tuned for the premiere of our new feature: "Passion Food Live."

              That's coming up next.

              - And we're out. - OK. Thanks, everybody. Great show.

              - Let's get dinner. - I've a tanning that you're making me late for!

              - I said we're over. - What?

              - We are done! You're dumped! - What? I can't believe this!

              - You are a blithering idiot. - I am not a blithering idiot! I'm an author!

              - She looks great. - Yeah. Let's just keep moving here.

              Yemanja, I am preparing your favorite dish tonight.

              Please don't let me down.

              Wow. I've really gotta start wearing my hair down.

              OK! In five,

              four, three...

              Good evening. I am Isabella Oliveira, and this is "Passion Food."

              In this show you will learn to turn simple ingredients into sensual, delicious dishes

              that fire the blood and satisfy the heart.

              - My God, the camera loves her. - It's like a miracle.

              I would like to introduce my assistant, Monica.

              - Hi! - What is that?

              L-l-l-I have no...

              Play "Cinzas," the breaker of hearts.

              This is always happening.

               That's it. Don't stop. It's good for your arms.

               Coconut milk is the main ingredient  in Bahian cuisine.

               Hard to extract,  but worth every drop of sweat.

               So now ladle some hot water over it,

               and squeeze.



              And now we are going to reduce the heat to bring all the flavors and the scent of the sea.

              While it simmers, we are going to cut the tomatoes in quarters.

              Make sure your tomatoes are full and plump.

              - She's a natural. - They should be firm as well. Ripe, but firm.

               Soak the French bread in the coconut milk.

               Break the crust so that  the milk can penetrate its center...

              - A whisky, please. - Comin' right up.

              Hey, man.

               - Work it with your fingers till... - Isabella!

              - That's my wife! - Hey!

              - That's my wife! - D'you work her with your fingers?

               Bake until it forms a golden crust.

               I think that it will taste even better  if you share it with someone you love.

              And we're out.

              Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to make a toast.

              To our cast and crew for an unbelievably successful first show.

              And, of course, to Brazil's own gift to us,

              the extraordinary Isabella!

              - Hear, hear! Bravo. - Whatever.

              You're gonna change my life.

              Hey, taxi! Stop! Stop!

              How could she? Squeezing her coconuts for all the world to see.

              Your girlfriend's a stripper, mon? Mine, too. You get used to it.

              There she is! Stop! Stop! Stop!

              - Isabella! - Oh, my God.

              - Toninho! - Yemanja be praised.

              I need to speak to you... alone.

              Izzy, I'll be right here.

              - What happened to your face? - What happened?

              - I was defending your honor! - My honor doesn't need defending.

              Oh, no? I travel half the planet searching for the Isabella I know and love.

              And I find you on TV looking so...

              You're looking...

              You look beautiful.

              Like when we first met and I made you my wife.

              Your skin tasted of salt, and your hair held a scent of cinnamon.

              And when you kissed me, your lips burned with chili pepper.

              It made my head spin.

              Now here you are. Come home with me where you belong.

              I belong where I choose to be. And I choose to be here.

              Do you also choose to dress like this? It's not proper, not in your condition.

              - What condition is that? - Married to me.

              Funny. You don't act married.

              For three years I've been lying flat on my back for you. Three years!

              Not to mention that I never get to drive anywhere!

              You know, I'm not some thing that can be moved around like a puppet.

              Fine. From now on you can move wherever you like.

              Isabella, I swear on my mother's grave, you are the only woman I ever loved.

              Your mother is still alive.

              That's not the point. You can't leave me.

              You're my wife.

              Goodbye, Toninho.

              On your mother's grave?

              Honey, please!

              Mon, dis not gonna be so easy.

               Isabella? Are you there?

              Madame Oliveira! Alberto.

              - You remember me? - Of course. Your show is the talk of the town.

              It's an honor to have you here in my restaurant.

              - But not in your kitchen. - Excuse me?

              Jeanne Moreau.

              - Jeanne Moreau? - It will come back to you.

              Certainly, madame.

              - So what was that all about? - Nothing.

              - I'm being bad. - You, bad?

              That's hard for me to imagine.

              Thank you.

              You don't have to buy me flowers. This is not a date.

              - Is it? - You thought it was a business dinner?


              Oh, well... no.


              I'm sorry.

              I had a great time with you, and you have been wonderful to me, but... I'm not ready yet.

              Someday, maybe?


              That much butter could kill a guy.

              That much woman could kill a guy!

              Sauté the banana slices, add some brown sugar and let it melt.

              Then a pinch of ground clove and a generous amount of cinnamon.

              Now we add a dash of "cachaca," which will allow the sauce to caramelize.

              And remember: You have to cook with your eyes and nose.

              - Who's he and who are the men with guitars? - This way you will learn to trust your senses.

              - Let's cut! - No! No, no, no. Let it roll.

              Somebody get me some aspirin now.

              - Hey, it's that guy. - Oh, my God.

              - Did they rehearse this? - No, wait!

              - You want him to keep singing? - Yes. Just go and hover.

              - Fine. - Keep it moving.

              OK, now we are going to transfer the bananas onto a dessert plate.

              Put the skillet back on the fire

              and add a little bit of water to the glazing.

              It's a spicy, fragrant dish that I'm sure you will enjoy.

              Thank you.

              All right, just wait one second.

              - And we're out. - Are you out of your mind?

              Of course I'm out of my mind. You're avoiding me, ignoring me!

              You're not letting me make it up to you. I'm your husband! Doesn't that mean anything?

              - This is the husband. - He's cute.

              Take him! Take him! Take him! Come on, come on, this way.

              Take him. You're outta here!

              Settle down.

              You can't arrest a man for talking to his own wife.

              Since when did singing become a crime?

              We've gotta get this guy. Read this.

              OK. "Isabella's bold, sensual dishes bubbled to the pulse of their guitars."

              - I can see it now. - "A feast for the palate and for a girl's eyes."

              - Good, huh? - "Bolder than Julia Child,

              - butcher than Ed McMahon"? - Well, that's for Monica.

              - So? - I want Toninho and the troubadours back.

              - Isabella hates him! - You think so?

              I know so. She told me.

              - You believe her? - Yes!

              Look, Cliff, I'm not blind. You like Isabella. That's fine.

              But we're doing a cooking show, and Toninho is the missing ingredient.

              He may not be good for Isabella, but he's perfect for ratings.

              I'm telling you, Alex, Isabella will never agree to it.

              Well, that's why you're a producer.

              No, OK, no! I won't do it! It's too much.

              The public loves him. What can I do?

              The public loves him, then he can have his own show, but not with me.

              I don't like it, you don't like it and Monica doesn't like it.

              But the truth is that the two of you together... on screen, I mean,

              have a certain chemistry that the public adores.

              And the ratings are going up so fast...

              And the bottom line is if Toninho's not in the show,

              Alex says he will either cancel the show... or replace you.

              You know,

              I think you're right.

              - Let's see what happens. - Great! I knew you'd understand.

              Thank you. Great.

              I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

              Hey, Tito Puente, you're outta here. Thank God!

              I'm Cliff Lloyd. I'm taking you to the station.

              You're being offered a position on Isabella's show.

              - I knew she would send for me. - Well, she didn't. The station manager did.

              He's the one who wants you. She doesn't.

              My friend, you have a lot to learn about women.

              Monica, what am I supposed to do about this Toninho guy?

              Oh, my God. I'm sorry.

              What, honey? Never seen a girl in her altogether, not all together before?

              - No, no... I mean, yeah. - OK, stop.

              So, you got it bad for Isabella, huh?

              Yeah, I guess I do. I mean, what does she see in this guy?

              Aside from the fact that he is gorgeous, charming and sings like an angel...

              No, honey, I am just kidding!

              This is none of my business, which makes me more interested,

              but if you wanna make a move on Isabella, you may wanna learn about Brazilian women.

              Like... like what?

              - Let me see your watch. - OK.


              TAG Heuer.

              What the hell...!

              If you wanna learn about Isabella, you have to learn about Brazil.

              - That's a $     watch! - Brazil is more than a country.

              See, Brazil, it's a sensation. It's a mood you can't describe.

              You can't define it. You can only feel it. OK? Try, try.

              It starts in the south in Porto Alegre, see?

              And it makes its way up to Recife, right?

              It's the drums of Candomblé, it's the samba of "Carnaval,"

              the tom-toms of the Yoruba.

              You feel it in the soles of your feet, up to your knees, to your...

              All the way to your heart.

              You forget the watch, OK?

              You have the moon, you have the tide, you have the stars.

              Isabella is Brazil, and Brazil... is Isabella.

              And if you want her, don't try, don't plan or prepare.



              Melons are like boyfriends. Shall I tell you why?

              To get a single good one, you must     try.

              But why try more than you have to?

              Hello. I am Isabella Oliveira, and welcome to a special edition of "Passion Food."

              Today we'll be creating a symphony of fruits from around the world.

              - We'll be right back. - Cut! Excellent, Isabella. Two minutes, guys.

              - How does she do that? - Don't try to understand it. Just feel it!

              I'm so happy to see you. You look radiant.

              Thank you.

              You know, there is something we need to talk about.

              - What are you doing? - I can't help it.

              - Can you please stop sniffing my hair? - Give me a kiss.

              - No. - Just one?

              You know,

              I think we should get a divorce.

              - A what? - A divorce.

              There goes the other shoe.

              - What the hell is going on? - I don't know. OK, everybody, five seconds.

              - Five seconds. - In three, two...

              - When it comes to melons, here is a tip: - Why isn't he singing?

              - Don't ask. Just feel. - I will never give you a divorce! Never!

              - You're my wife and I love you. - Pull it now!

              Pull it now.

              Just pull it! I don't know! "Wings, Jeopardy!" "Mad About You," infomercials. Just get it off!

              - Oh, my God. - Whatever, just pull it!

              - Moron! - What?

              - Come here! - Oh, man!

              You little Latin mambo-mouth!

              Do you know what you've just done? This is live television!

              Good! Then everyone knows how much I love her,

              you butt-licking television slave!

              - Take that! - Hey!

              You naughty girl. I hardly recognize you.

              I hardly recognize myself.

              No, Cliff, you're not fired. Not yet.

              We're gonna be on the news: "Real-life romance on new cooking show."

               See ya.

              What am I doing wrong? Is it because I love her too much?

              If you do, why park the welcome wagon at the neighbor's?

              You wouldn't understand. You're not a man.

              Toninho... that's probably the nicest thing you ever said to me.

              I can't believe she's punishing me so hard cos of one stupid mistake.

              One stupid mistake, honey! You smothered her, stashed away in that restaurant.

              - She was the cook! - The cook!

              OK. Father, help us, OK?

              Let's try the basics.

              - Why don't you try to be her friend? - Her friend?

              Trust me, I watch a lot of Oprah. Friendship is the basis of any relationship.

              A relationship. We didn't have a relationship. We were in love!

              - Like Romeo and Juliet? - Yes!

              - Or Tristan and Isolde? - Yes!

              - Sonny and Cher. - Yes!

              - They all ended up dead, except for Cher. - Dead, but in love.

              Toninho, you are a macho, romantic, primitive heterosexual.

              Honey, that's so   th century. Look, step into the present. OK?

              Look at Cliff. He knows how to be her friend, and I think she's responding, too.

              - Cliff? - Yes.

              What could she possibly see in that clown?

              Oh, I don't know, apart from the fact that he's sweet and modern and sensitive.

              Steel! I'm just kidding.

              What are you doing here?

              I thought I could help you at the market, like I used to. Remember?

              - May I? - No, thank you.

              Maybe I could do the shopping for you. This way you wouldn't have to wake up so early.

              Toninho, why are you doing this?

              - Because I wanna be your friend. - My friend?


              So you mean if I have a problem with a lover, can I come to you for advice?

              - You have a lover? - Not yet.

              - Do you think you can love someone else? - Yes.

              No! For each person there is only one perfect mate.

              The moment we met I knew it was you, and you knew it was me.

              So if we give up now, you can never love this way again.

              Who gave up, me or you?

              I didn't give up. I made a mistake, and I regret it.

              Please, Isabella, give me another chance.

              I can't live without you.

              I'll do anything you want.

              Toninho, don't make it harder.

              We can be friends.

              But I just don't love you anymore.

              I'm sorry.

              Listen to me, you've gotta come back.

              There are still no fish in the sea and the fishermen are desperate.

               - You're gonna lose this restaurant. - Rafi, I can't come home without Isabella.

              Give everyone their severance.

               Beyond that, I can't say.

              You're becoming a star, Isabella.

              Doesn't that make you happy?

              I guess.

              I did everything I could to get Toninho off the show.

              It's OK.

              It doesn't matter anymore.

               And remember:  The last and most important ingredient

               is to share it with someone you love.

               Thank you.


              - What's up with you? - I don't know.

              Everything is going so well, and I feel as if the wind is blowing right through me.

              Oh, baby, what you feel is Ionely.

              Sweetheart, you need to fall in love again, and fast.

              - I'm not in the mood for love. - Of course you're not. You're out of practice.

              It takes an effort. Honey, if you don't eat, you don't get hungry.

              OK, hold on to your peppers.

              You won't believe this. The network called.

              They are flying in some executives tomorrow.

              The show might be going national!

              - We're going national! - We're going national!

              We're going national.


              Hey, what's going on?

              Aren't you happy? This was our dream.

              No, I'm happy. I am just tired.

              Will you take me out tonight?

              Yeah... sure. Great.

              - We can work on some ideas for the show. - No, not for work, for fun.

              Can it be just fun?


              I can do fun.

              Wow! You look beautiful.


              Sit down.

               Hi, this is Isabella. Please leave  a message after the tone. Thank you.

               Isabella, are you there?

               - Isabella, I know you want me to go away, - Should I turn that off?

               And I've given you every reason to.

               But I want you to know that  whatever you do, I will always love you.

               Anyway, here's this for you.


              I want to fall in love again.

              - Isabella. Isabella, wait, wait, wait. - What?

              Look, there's nothing I would like more.

              - Did I do something wrong? - No, no, no. I just...

              Look, I think this guy still has his hooks in you.

              - That's not true. - Isabella, I really like you.

              I just think you need some time to figure out what you want.

              I'll be around.

              Good night.

              Oh, it's anemic. It's bloody anemic. Give me a darker bronze there, will you?

              Oh, Isabella, ducks. I'm gonna need a big Julia Roberts smile from you in    OK?

              Much brighter, OK. Bring it up a little higher.

              - Cliff? - Yeah?

              I'm not sure about this dress.

              What are you talking about? You look unbelievable.

              Look, it's just for one show. The executives wanted to see you in something less... ethnic.


              - Cliff, Alex on line four. - OK.

              Look, you look beautiful.


              OK. Come on.

              Right, there we are. Good.

              See you tomorrow.


              I offer you these pearls,

              so the fish will come back to Bahia.

              But about Isabella... stay out of my business.

              This is her decision and mine.

              When human love is strong enough,

              no god, not even you, Yemanja, can take it away.

              Yemanja be praised.

              Oh, mother!

              Who dressed you? Vanna White?

              The suits. It looks very bad?

              Baby, nothing looks bad on you. You're beautiful.

              You better not come near my wardrobe.

              - Where is Toninho? - Toninho quit two hours ago. Isn't that nice?

              - Stand by, everyone. - He quit?

              - Why? - I don't know.

              - Maybe he went back to his restaurant. - There is no restaurant.

              He lost it. No fish, no chef, no Toninho, no restaurant.

              - What? - OK, one minute.

              OK, baby, snap out of it. We got a show to do, we got a show to do. Come on.

              - What is this? - Tabasco.

              I don't use Tabasco. This is Brazilian cooking. Can I have my "malaguetas?"

              Orders from the network. They said "malaguetas" are too hard for viewers to find.

              -    seconds. - Don't worry.

              - What about the lights? - Network wants it brighter.

              In five, four...

              Stop! You're fine. Come on. OK.

               - Good evening. I am Isabella... - Cliff, men want more close-ups on Isabella.

                - Forget the mariachis. - And lose the freak.

                She's not a freak! She... he's really very pleasant.

                Hey, whatever you like, but not on this show, OK?

                Today we are going to create a classic dish from the north of Brazil.

                 - Bobó de Camarão. - Move in. Have them stay tight on her.

                - Don't lose it. Keep it nice and bright. - OK.

                Sexy. Think sexy. We're not that interested in the food, OK?

                Good. Great.

                Garnish it with a "farofa" and the sliced avocado.

                And be sure and enjoy it with someone you love.

                - OK. - All right.

                Good job. Let's go get her.

                - That was terrific. - Brava! You'll love being part of our family.

                - Come on. - We've big things in mind for you. Bye, Cliff.

                - Wonderful. Wonderful. - It was great!

                How can you go along with this?

                Look, they just have a more streamlined vision of the show,

                because it's going national and everybody's excited.

                Vision? I thought that was my department.

                Of course... Of course it is, of course it is, but th-th-this is bigger than us now.

                These guys love you, Isabella.

                In fact, they love you so much, they want you to be the focus of the show.

                And what does that mean?

                Th-they think Monica might be too much for the Midwest.

                I'm so sorry, Monica. They're businessmen. They can't sell drag in Albuquerque.

                Cliff, I'm not going to do the show without Monica.

                But you have to do the show. This is your dream!

                This is not my dream! This is your dream! For me, this is a nightmare!

                Isabella, please. You're a star now.

                You belong to the world, to your fans.

                This isn't really your decision anymore.

                - No? - No.

                D'you know what?

                I quit.

                That creep. He turned out to be just as bad as all the rest.

                That wasn't Cliff's finest hour, but I'm sure he wasn't trying to hurt anybody on purpose.

                He's just a little confused, poor baby.

                Hey, Izzy.

                - Let's go home and get wasted. - OK.


                Sweet bird of youth, girl. Come see this. Come on.


                I want you to lead when we dance.

                I want you to drive the car.

                I want you on top.

                I wouldn't want you any other way.

                - Oh my. - Can you hear me?

                Go on. Go, go, go.

                Oh, boy. Love versus voodoo.

                Why couldn't you have been like this before?

                I don't know, but I'm like this now.

                Now it's too late.

                Kiss me... then tell me that.

                "Ooh, là, là!" This looks bad.

                Isabella, what happened to you?

                What have I done?

                Let's go.

                You're cooking now?

                I must make an offering to Yemanja so she will undo the spell.

                Isabella, Serafina told you the spell is irreversible. It won't work.

                It has to work. She will understand and she will give me back my love.

                What's wrong with these stupid eggs, dammit?


                - Monica! - What?

                I've lost it!

                Girl, it's not the prettiest thing I ever seen, but, listen, I'm sure it tastes...

                Try it.

                - I can't cook anymore. - No! Honey, everybody has an off day.

                - It's fine. - Look, everything is a ruin!

                OK, listen. Calm down, OK? We'll fix it.

                We'll use the soufflé as a base, pretty it up with this stuff. She'll never know.

                Yemanja, please...

                don't reject my offering.

                Give me back my love.



                - How did you know I was here? - Monica told me.

                I came to say goodbye.

                - I wish there was something I could do. - There is.

                Why don't we cook something before I go, for old times' sake?

                - I don't think I can cook anymore. - Neither can I.

                But together, maybe we can find the way.

                It's working.

                It's salty! It tastes like sea water.

                - Toninho? - Yes?

                - I love you. - You love me?

                Oh, Isabella.

                 Thus ends our story  of Isabella and her Toninho.

                 They lived happily ever after.

                 And so did we.

                 Yemanja be praised.


Special help by SergeiK