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French cocktail. The last tango in Paris



He was a stranger, a madman chasing me, he tried to rape me so I shot him. Case closed.”


Maria Schneider and Marlon Brando were at the borderline of madness, devoted to an endless debauchery. Focused on, day after day, shootings and committed to passion. The first time they saw each other, in the apartment that they both pretended to rent, was epic, full of sensuality and animal sex. A Brando that was already passed out and that cried with truth in his eyes, just like a man that has drunk and lived all he could. The brutal encounter with his wife, bleeding. His prayers and anger dedicated to a Superior Divinity, his impotence caused by not being able to give her her life back. The cold atmosphere, the dirty pension managed by his consort, the home of strange people, of quick and expensive meetings in the dark.  His conversation, now as a widower, with Marcel, his wife’s lover, a double of himself, a lover that drinks the same Bourbon as him, without even liking it.

Maria’s father, now dead, used to be a colonel. Brando’s father was aggressive; he used to frequent many taverns. He was a friend of prostitutes, he was vulgar and a drunk. His Mother was a romantic and drunken woman by heart.

They played games, she was little red riding hood, he was the wolf. She launched into his arms, tired of good guys. He, with his “don’t want to know anything of my past” thing, missing affection and beaten by life.

We are in front of encounters without a previous appointment, wanting to find in the other their lost soul mate. Wandering through the streets of Paris. They danced tango in the ballroom, nothing else mattered, just them. Everyone looked at them. While, they drunk false Champaign, fusing their lives together, triumphing at the dance floor. And as good-bye, he showed his ass to anyone that was staring. He showed it to life.

Days after. A totally chaotic Maria, intoxicated by an obsessive love, begins to run away. She wanted to escape, she runs and runs, while he follows her –at the background music from Gato Barbieri, his sax makes hearts, filled with alcohol, drunk- She finally arrives home, just in time to grab the lift and to get home and…to get home. Brando chases her through the stairs. She opens the door; his foot prevents her from closing it. He finally enters into her world, he hugs her. A familiar noise surrounds the room, the sound from a colonel’s gun. Brando had death wounds; he tried to walk to the terrace and, from there, to the sky. He turns over, in front of her, he leans in the handrail, he takes a chewing gum out of his mouth and he sticks it in the cold iron. His look full of tenderness is directed to the horizon, now out of reach. He dies.

In her mind, he was a stranger, a madman chasing me; he tried to rape me so I shot him. Case closed.




A strong cocktail, like a Martini should be accompanied by the freshness of pineapple and the sensuality of Chambord- French liquor from cognac, raspberries, honey, vanilla and aromatic herbs-. This cocktail was born in France, a few years ago, and it has made this liquor, until today unknown, become very famous in Spain.


Preparation: Serve a quarter of pineapple juice, a quarter of Chambord, two quarts of Grey Goose vodka and three drops of orange bitters in shaker. After beating elegantly, serve it in a big cocktail glass. Edith Piaf’s voice would be a great company.

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