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Man of La Mancha (1972) CD2

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Little bird, little bird
Awoo!
In the cinnamon tree
In the cinnamon tree
Little bird, little bird
Do you sing for me?
Do you bring me word
Of one I know?
Little bird, little bird
I love her so
Little bird, little bird
And I have to know
Little bird, little bird
Beneath this tree
This cinnamon tree
We learned to love
We learned to cry
For here we met
And here we kissed
And here|one cold and moonless night
We said good-bye
Little bird, little bird
Little bird, little bird
Oh, have pity on me
Little bird, little bird
Bring her back to me now
Little bird, little bird
Beneath the cinnamon tree
Little bird, little bird
I have waited too long
Little bird
Without a song
- Little bird,|- Little bird, little bird
Please fly, please go
Little bird, little bird
And tell her so
Little bird, little bird
Little bird, little bird
- Sss!|- Awoo!
I spit on all your little birds!
Here!
Give it back!|Give it back to me!
What's this?
- "The most lovely sovereign...|- Oh!
"And high-born lady..."
It's from her knight!
It's a love letter.
- Such fine words.|- Well, fine words!
All right.|He's a man, isn't he?
He wants what|every other man wants. So!
- Yeah!|- Yeah!
Hey... soon?
When I'm through in the kitchen.
Now I must consider|how sages of the future...
will describe|this historic night.
Long after the sun|had retired to his couch...
darkening the gates|and balconies of La Mancha...
Don Quixote, with lofty|expression and measured tread...
held vigil in the courtyard|of a mighty castle.
Ohh.
Maker of empty boasts...
on this of all nights|to give way to vanity.
No. Don Quixote,|take a deep breath of life...
and consider|how it should be lived.
Call nothing thine|except thy soul.
Love not what thou art,|only what thou may become.
Do not pursue pleasure...
or thou mayest have|the misfortune to overtake it.
Look always forward.
In last year's nests...
there are no birds this year.
Be just to all men,|courteous to all women.
Live in the vision...
of the one for whom|great deeds are done...
Dulcinea.
Get up from there! Get up!
Milady.
Why do you call me|by that name?
- Because it is yours.|- My name is Aldonza!
I know you, milady.
I think you know me not.
All my years I have known you,|your nobility of spirit...
long have I seen you|in my heart.
Your heart|doesn't know much about women.
It knows all, milady.
Woman is the soul of man...
the radiance|that lights his way.
Woman is glory.
What do you want of me?
- Nothing.|- Liar.
I deserve the rebuke.
- I ask of milady...|- Now we get to it!
That I may be allowed|to serve her...
that I may hold her|in my heart...
that to her|I may dedicate each victory...
and call upon her in defeat.
And if at last I give my life...
I give it|in the sacred name of Dulcinea.
I must go. Pedro is waiting.
Why do you do these things?
What things?
These ridiculous...|the things you do.
I come in a world of iron...
to make a world of gold.
The world's a dung heap...
and we are maggots|that crawl on it.
No.
Milady knows better|in her heart.
What's in my heart|will get me halfway to hell...
and you, Seņor Don Quixote...
your head is going to end up|a stranger to your neck.
- That doesn't matter.|- What does?
Only that I follow the quest.
That for your quest.
What does it mean... quest?
The mission of each true knight|is duty...
nay, is privilege.
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run|where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love|pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms|are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing|to march into hell
For a heavenly cause
And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart|will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest
And the world|will be better for this
That one man|scorned and covered with scars
Still strove|with his last ounce of courage
To reach
The unreachable star
Once, just once, would you|look at me as I really am?
I see beauty, purity.
Dulcinea.
You!|You keep me waiting, would you?
- I wasn't. I didn't mean to...|- Milady!
My little flower!
Monster!
Stay clear!
Thou wouldst strike a woman?
Ah, stand back,|or I'll break your head.
Thou heart of flint|and bowels of cork.
I'm killed.
Jose! Tenorio!
Jose! Tenorio!
- Pedro!|- Anselmo! Jose!
Muleteers!
Anselmo!
Tenorio! Anselmo! Muleteers!
Hold thou!
Heed the knocking|of thy craven knees!
Prepare to do battle!
Come one! Come all!
Come what may come!|Here am I!
Let him be.|He's worth a thousand of you!
Ahh, back, whore!|I'll show you!
Sancho!
Hold on, Your Grace!
Sancho!
Coming, Master!
Look out, Tenorio!
Help me! Help me! Help me!
Look out, Master! Look out!
Victory.
- Victory?|- Victory?
- Victory.|- Victory!
- Victory?|- Victory.
Victory! Victory!
What's this? All the noise?
What's this? All the noise?
- What dreadful thing?|- What glorious thing!
Don Castellano...
I would inform you|right has triumphed!
Your Grace, are you hurt?
No, no.|A little weakness... temporary.
Your Grace!
Bring water! Water, quick!
Oh, crusader.
Your Grace. Your Grace?
- He's coming round.|- Oh.
Oh, that I might always wake|unto such a vision.
Don't move.
I must say, Your Grace,|we certainly did a job out here.
We routed them.
That bunch will be|walking bow-legged for a week.
Milady, it is not seemly|to gloat over the fallen.
Let them rot in hell!
Sir, I am|a tame and peaceful man.
Please, Sir Knight, I do not|wish to be inhospitable...
but I must ask you to leave|as soon as you're able.
I am sorry to have offended|the dignity of your castle...
and at daylight,|I shall depart...
but first, may I remind you|of your promise?
Promise?
True, it is not yet dawn...
but I have kept vigil|and proven myself in combat.
I therefore beg you,|dub me knight.
Oh, certainly.|Let's get it over with.
Sancho, would you be|good enough to fetch my sword?
Yes, Your Grace.
I cannot speak, milady...
how joyful I am that this|ceremony should take place...
in your presence.
Be careful, now.
It is the solemn moment|that seals my vocation.
- Are you ready?|- I am.
Very well, then. Kneel.
Don Quixote de La Mancha...
I hereby dub thee knight.
My Lord.
Didn't I do it right?
If your lordship|could make some mention...
of the deeds I've performed|to deserve this honor...
Oh, of course.
Don Quixote de La Mancha...
having proved yourself|this day...
in glorious and terrible|combat...
and by my authority|as lord of this castle...
I hereby dub thee knight.
My Lord...
Something else?
If your lordship recalls...
it is the custom|to grant the new knight...
an additional name.
If your lordship|could devise such a name...
Uh, let me see.
Hail, Knight
Of the Woeful Countenance
Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Wherever you go
People will know
Of the glorious deeds
Of the Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Farewell and good cheer
Oh, my brave cavalier
Ride onward to glorious strife
I swear when you're gone
I'll remember you well
For all of the rest of my life
Hail, Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Wherever you go
Face to the foe
They will quail at the sight
Of the Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Oh, valorous knight
Go and fight for the right
And battle the villains that be
But, oh, when you do
What will happen to you?
Thank God|I won't be there to see
Hail, Knight
- Of the Woeful Countenance|- Hail, Knight
- Of the Woeful Countenance|- Hail, Knight
Of the Woeful Countenance
Hail, Knight
Hail, Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Knight|of the Woeful Countenance
Wherever you go
People will know
Of the glorious deeds
Of the Knight of the Woeful
Countenance
I thank you.
Well, Sir Knight,|I am going to bed.
And I advise you to do the same.
Knight|of the Woeful Countenance.
It's a beautiful name.
Come, Your Grace.|Let's get you to bed.
Not yet, Sancho.|I owe something to my enemies.
- That account's been paid.|- Not yet, milady.
- What?|- Nobility demands.
It does?
Yes.|Therefore I will go to them.
I'll go. I'll minister.
There is no need.
They were my enemies, too.
Oh, blessed one.
Come, Your Grace.|Let's get you to bed.
Sancho, I do envy my enemies.
Your Grace, you're tired.
No, Sancho, I feel quite well.
Your Grace, many a man...
has gone to bed in the evening|feeling well...
only to wake up in the morning|and find himself dead.
- That's a proverb.|- Yes, Your Grace.
- I don't approve of them.|- I know, Your Grace.
What in hell|do you think you're doing?
I'm going to minister|to your wounds.
- You're what?|- Nobility demands.
Turn over, you foxy goat!
You...
Sons of whores!
Let me out!
No!
Bastards!
Bastards! Bastards!
Bastards!
Ow! Bastards!
Bastards!
Let me go!
Let me go!
No!
Enough!
Load up. We're leaving.
What do we do with this?
We'll take it along.
Let these events be proof|to thee, my Sancho.
Nobility triumphs.|Virtue will always prevail.
Oh, yes, Your Grace.
Now, in this moment of glory...
do I confirm my knighthood|and my oath.
For all my life,|this I do swear.
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run|where the brave dare not go
What is that?
One of the hazards|of this prison...
the brave men|of the Inquisition!
It means|they're coming to fetch someone.
Haul him off,|put the question to him.
Next thing he knows, he is dead.
They're coming for me|very possibly.
What, Cervantes, not afraid?|Where's your courage?
Or is that|in your imagination, too?
No escape. This is happening.
Not to your brave|man of La Mancha, but to you.
Quick, Cervantes, call on him.|Let him shield you.
Let him save you,|if he can... from that.
No! No! No! No!
Well, not this time.
But you see, Cervantes,|there is a difference...
between reality and illusion...
and a difference|between these prisoners...
and your men of lunacy.
I'd say rather men|whose illusions were very real.
Much the same thing,|isn't it, really?
Why are you poets|so fascinated with madmen?
We have much in common.
You both turn your backs|on life?
We both select from life!
A man has to come to terms|with life as it is.
Life as it is.
I have lived for over|forty years, and I've seen...
life as it is.
Pain...
misery...
cruelty beyond belief.
I've heard all the voices|of God's noblest creature.
Moans from bundles of filth|in the street.
I've been a soldier and a slave.
I've seen my comrades|fall in battle...
or die more slowly|under the lash in Africa.
I've held them|at the last moment.
These were men|who saw life as it is.
Yet they died despairing.
No glory, no brave last words.
Only their eyes,|filled with confusion...
questioning why.
I do not think they were|asking why they were dying...
but why they had ever lived.
When life itself seems lunatic,|who knows where madness lies?
Perhaps to be too practical|is madness.
To surrender dreams,|this may be madness.
To seek treasure|where there is only trash...
too much sanity may be madness!
And maddest of all...
to see life as it is|and not as it should be!
I am I, Don Quixote
The Lord of La Mancha
Destroyer of evil am I
I will march to the sound
Of the trumpets of glory
Forever to conquer or die
I don't understand.
Don't understand what,|my friend?
Why you're so cheerful.
First you find your lady,|then you lose her.
Never lost.
Well, she ran off|with those muleteers.
Doubtless for some high purpose.
High purpose|with those low characters?
Sancho, always thine eye sees|evil in preference to good.
My eye did not make this world.|It only sees it.
Right, and furthermore,|I think you should call a truce.
What, and allow wickedness|to flourish?
I've noticed wickedness|wears pretty thick armor.
And for that|would you have me cease?
Nay, let a man be struck down|a thousand times!
- Still must he rise and...|- Do battle, yes.
Lies, lies, lies!|Madness and lies!
Lies, lies, lies!|Madness and lies!
They shall be punished,|who did this crime.
Crime?
You know the worst crime|of all? Being born.
For that you get punished|your whole life.
- Dulcinea.|- Enough of that!
Get yourself to a madhouse!
Rave about nobility|where no one can hear.
- Milady.|- I'm not your lady!
I'm not any kind of a lady.
For a lady|has modest and maidenly airs
And a virtue a blind man|could see that I lack
It's hard to develop
These maidenly airs
In a stable,|laid flat on your back
Won't you look at me,|look at me
God, won't you look at me?
Look at the kitchen slut
Reeking of sweat
Born on a dung heap
To die on a dung heap
A strumpet men use and forget
If you feel that you see me
Not quite at my virginal best
Cross my palm with a coin
And I'll willingly|show you the rest
Never deny|that you are Dulcinea.
Take the clouds from your eyes|and see me as I really am!
You have shown me the sky
But what good is the sky
To a creature who'll never|do better than crawl?
Of all the cruel bastards
Who've badgered and battered me
You are the cruelest of all
Can't you see what your gentle|insanities do to me?
Rob me of anger|and give me despair
Blows and abuse I can take
And give back again
Tenderness I cannot bear
So please torture me now
With your sweet Dulcineas|no more
I am no one, I am nothing
I'm only Aldonza the whore
Now and forever|you are milady, Dulcinea.
No!
Master.
Master!
Is this|Don Quixote de La Mancha?
If it is, and he is not afraid|to look upon me...
let him stand forth.
I am Don Quixote...
Knight|of the Woeful Countenance.
Then hear me, thou charlatan.
Thou art no knight,|but a foolish pretender.
Thy pretense|is a child's mockery...
and thy principles|dirt beneath my feet.
False, graceless knight...
before I chastise thee,|tell me thy name.
Thou shalt hear it|in due course.
And why seekest thou me?
Thou called upon me,|Don Quixote.
Thou reviled me|and threatened me.
The Enchanter.
Behold at thy feet|the gauge of battle.
On what terms do we fight?
Choose.
Very well. If thou art beaten,|thy freedom is forfeit...
and thou must obey|my every command.
And thy conditions?
If thou livest...
thou shalt kneel and beg|forgiveness of milady, Dulcinea.
Ha!|Thy lady is an alley cat.
- Monster! Defend thyself!|- Halt.
Thou asked my name, Don Quixote.
Now I shall tell it.
I am called|the Knight of the Mirrors.
Look, Don Quixote.|Look in the mirror of reality...
and behold things|as they truly are.
Look, Don Quixote.
Look in the mirror of reality.
Look!|What seest thou, Don Quixote?
A gallant knight?|Naught but an aging fool.
Look, dost thou see him?
A madman|dressed for a masquerade.
A masquerade!
Look, Don Quixote.|See him as he truly is.
See the clown.
Look, what seest thou,|Don Quixote?
Look! Dost thou see him?
A madman! Look, Don Quixote!
See him as he truly is.
Look, Don Quixote.
Drown, Don Quixote.
Drown in the mirror.
Drown, Don Quixote.|Drown in the mirror.
Go deep. Deep. Deep.
Deep. Go deep. Deep.
The masquerade is ended.
Confess!|Thy lady is a trollop...
and thy dream the nightmare|of a disordered mind.
It is done.
Your Grace, it is Dr. Carrasco.
It is only Sanson Carrasco.
Forgive me, Seņor Quijana.|It was the only way.
Don Miguel de Cervantes?
Who calls?
Don Miguel.
Cervantes! Cervantes!
Don Miguel de Cervantes!
Don Miguel de Cervantes!
Prepare to be summoned.
Summoned? By whom?
The judges of the Inquisition.
Captain? How long?
Soon.
But not yet. Good.
You'll just have time|to finish your story.
The story is finished.
Of course.|Quite the proper ending.
No, no, no!
I don't like this ending!
And I don't think|the jury likes it, either.
Well, then. He's failed.
Ah, Don Miguel de Cervantes.
The court|hereby sentences you...
- Wait!|- What for?
- Time. I need time.|- I'll grant you that.
But, uh, what about|the Inquisition?
A few moments only.|I'll improvise an ending.
A farmhouse|on the plains of La Mancha.
Candle.
A room in that house.
When a man who once called|himself Don Quixote...
lies in the shadows|between living and dying.
Can you do nothing?
I'm afraid there will be no|need of my services as a doctor.
Where is he, I wonder?
In what dark cavern|of the mind?
- According to recent theory...|- Oh, Doctor, please.
Don't you think I did right?
There's the contradiction.
You again!
- Tell him to go away.|- What harm can he do?
It's all been done.
Your reverence?|Could I talk to him?
I'm afraid|he won't be able to hear you.
Well, then, I won't say much.
No mention of knight-errantry.
Oh, no. One does not speak|of the rope...
in the house of the hanged.
Proverb. Excuse me, Your Grace.
- Your Grace?|- Just a few words.
Little ones...|to lighten his heart.
A little gossip
A little chat
A little idle talk|of this and that
I'll tell him|all the troubles I have had
And since he doesn't hear
At least he won't feel bad
Shh, shh.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Oh, what a time|I've been having...
since I got back, Your Grace.
You know my wife Teresa,|how strong she is...
muscles like a bull.
Well, she beat me.
She hit me with everything|but the house itself.
And she yells at me...
"Where's all the gold|and all the jewels...
"you were going to bring back?
"Where's that kingdom|you were going to conquer?"
Well, I kept a dignified|silence, Your Grace...
because there are some|questions you just can't answer.
Like when a man yells, "What|are you doing with my wife?"
That's a question|you just can't answer.
Of course, I hit her back,|Your Grace.
But she's a lot harder|than I am...
and as the saying goes...
"Whether the stone|hits the pitcher...
"or the pitcher|hits the stone...
"it's going to be bad|for the pitcher."
So I've got bruises|from here to...
Oh, I haven't fought|a windmill in a fortnight
And the humble joys|get duller every day
Why, when I'm asleep, a dragon|with his fiery tongue a-waggin'
Whispers, Sancho, won't you|please come out and play?
That's enough!
- What did I do?|- I warned you.
- I didn't do anything. I was...|- Please be quiet.
My friend?
Did Your Grace say something?
You are a fat pudding...
stuffed with proverbs.
Oh, that's very well-known,|Your Grace.
Well, as I was saying...
- Uncle?|- My dear.
Good morning, Father.
Or is it evening?
How do you feel, sir?
I am but well.
Can you speak your name?
Should a man not know his name?
If you would just say it.
Alonso Quijana.
Father?
I am here, beside you.
I wish to make a will.
Yes.
Of course.
- Uncle?|- Forgive me.
L... When I close my eyes,|I see a pale horse...
and I am bid mount him.
No, uncle, you will get well.
Oh, my dear master's worship,|do not die...
but live on many years.
Dying is such a waste|of good health.
Soft and fair, my dear ones.
In last year's nests,|there are no birds this year.
Come closer.
I have dreamed so strangely.
Oh, such dreams.
I... thought|I had declared myself a...
No, I dare not tell you,|lest you think me mad.
- Put them from your mind.|- They are gone.
Nor do I know what they meant.
Father?
Just speak, and I shall write.
I, Alonso Quijana...
with one foot in the stirrup...
and all too ready|for the final ride...
Don't admit anyone.
Do hereby make the following|disposition of my estate.
The bulk I leave to my beloved|niece Antonia Quijana...
with the exception|of certain personal bequests...
which are as follows...
I will allow nobody|into that room!
Get out of the way, you hag!
- What is that, Sanson?|- It's that slut from the inn.
I tried to stop her,|and she threatened to...
Tear your eyes out|if you touch me again, by God!
- Get out!|- Not before I see him!
Let her be.
In my house|there will be courtesy!
Come closer, girl.
What is it you wish?
Don't you know me?
Should I?
I am Aldonza.
I'm so sorry. L... I don't recall|anyone of that name.
Oh, please, My Lord.
Why do you say, "My Lord"?
You are My Lord, Don Quixote.
Don Quixote?
Forgive me.|I am confused by shadows.
It is possible I knew you once.|I do not remember.
This way.
Please try to remember.
Is it so important?
Everything.
My whole life.
You spoke to me.
And everything was... different.
I spoke to you?
And you looked at me...
and you called me|by another name.
Dulcinea.
Dulcinea
Once you found a girl
And called her
Dulcinea
When you spoke the name
An angel seemed to whisper
Dulcinea
Dulcinea
Then perhaps it was not a dream.
You spoke of a dream...
and about the quest.
A quest?
How you must fight?
And it doesn't matter|whether you win or lose...
if only you follow the quest.
What did I say to you?
Tell me the words.
"To dream...
"the impossible dream."
But they are your own words.
"To fight...
"the unbeatable foe."
Don't you remember?
"To bear...
"with unbearable sorrow."
You must remember!
"To run...
"where the brave dare not go."
To right...
the unrightable wrong.
Yes.
To love...
pure and chaste from afar.
Yes.
To try|when your arms are too weary.
To reach the unreachable star.
Thank you, My Lord.
Milady! This is not seemly.
On your knees to me?
- But, My Lord, you're not well.|- Not well?
What is sickness|to the body of a knight-errant?
What matter wounds?|For each time he falls...
he will rise again...|and woe to the wicked!
- Sancho?|- Here, Your Grace!
- My armor, my sword!|- More misadventures!
Adventures, old friend!
Oh, the trumpets of glory
Now call me to rise
Yes, the trumpets|are calling to me
And wherever I ride
Ever staunch at my side
My squire and my lady will be
I am I, Don Quixote
The Lord of La Mancha
Our destiny calls, and we go
And the wild winds of fortune
Will carry us onward
Whithersoever they blow
Whithersoever they blow
Onward to glory we go
Master!
- Master!|- Uncle!
Master.
My Lord.
De profundis clamo ad te
Domine
Domine
Audi vocem meam
Fiant aures tuae intentae
Ad vocem abse creationis meae
Si delictarum memorium
Serva neris
Domine
Domine...
He is dead.
My master is dead.
A man died.
He seemed a good man...
but I did not know him.
But you saw.
Don Quixote's not dead.
Believe, Sancho.
Believe.
Aldonza...
Dulcinea.
Dulcinea.
Under authority of the Holy|Office of the Inquisition...
by reason of certain offenses...
committed against His Majesty's|Most Catholic Church...
the following is summoned|to give answer...
and submit his person|for purification...
if it be so ordered...
Don Miguel de Cervantes.
I am a popular defendant.
Summoned before one court...
before I've quite finished|with another.
Well, what says this jury?
You know, I think I know now|what this contains.
The history of your mad knight.
As much as is written.
Read as well there|as you did here...
and you may not burn.
I have no intention of burning.
Cervantes?
I think Don Quixote...
is brother to Cervantes.
God help us.|We are both men of La Mancha.
For me alone|was Don Quixote born...
and I for him.
I give him to you.
Ready, old friend?
Courage.
To dream the impossible dream...
to fight the unbeatable foe.
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run|where the brave dare not go
To run|where the brave dare not go
Though the goal|be forever too far
To try|though you're wayworn and weary
To reach the unreachable star
To reach the unreachable star
Though you know|it's impossibly high
To live with your heart|striving upward
To a far
Unattainable
Star
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Made In Britain 1982 25fps
Mademoiselle
Madness of King George The
Madonna-Girlie Show - Live Down Under (1993)
Madonna - Truth or Dare
Maelstrom
Mafia
Mafia Doctor
Magdalene Sisters The
Magician The 1958
Magnificent Warriors
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Maid in Manhattan
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Makai Tensho 2003
Making of alien vs predator
Mala Educacion La
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Malcolm X CD1
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Malefique 2002
Malena
Malibus Most Wanted
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Mallrats CD1
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Mamma Roma Pasolini
Man Apart A
Man Bites Dog
Man Called Horse A CD1
Man Called Horse A CD2
Man Called Sledge A
Man On Fire 2004 CD1
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Man Who Knew Too Little The CD1
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Man Who Knew Too Much The
Man Who Loved Women The
Man Who Shot liberty Valance The 1962
Man Who Went to Mars A (2003) CD1
Man Who Went to Mars A (2003) CD2
Man Who Would Be King The
Man Without a Past
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Man of the Year The 2003
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Map Of The Human Heart 1993
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Marnie (Hitchcock 1964)
Married With Children 1x01 - Pilot
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Married With Children 1x04 - But I Didnt Shoot the Deputy
Married With Children 1x05 - Have You Driven a Ford Lately
Married With Children 1x06 - Whose Room Is It Anyway
Married With Children 1x07 - Al Loses His Cherry
Married With Children 1x08 - Peggy Sue Got Work
Married With Children 1x09 - Married Without Children
Married With Children 1x10 - The Poker Game
Married With Children 1x11 - Where Is the Boss
Married With Children 1x12 - Nightmare On Als Street
Married With Children 1x13 - Johnny B Gone
Marrying Kind The (George Cukor 1952)
Marrying The Mafia CD1
Marrying The Mafia CD2
Martian Chronicles The 1980 CD1
Martian Chronicles The 1980 CD2
Martin Lawrence Live Runteldat
Marx Brothers - Horse Feathers (1932)
Mary Poppins 1964 CD1
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Mask of Zorro
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Masques (Masks)
Massacre 1989
Master And Commander - The Far Side Of The World (2003) CD1
Master And Commander - The Far Side Of The World (2003) CD2
Matango (Attack of the Mushroom People 1963)
Matchstick Men
Matrix
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Matrix Revisited The (2001) CD2
Matrix Revolutions The CD1
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McKenzie Break The 1970
McLintock CD1
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Me Myself I
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Mean Creek 2004
Mean Girls
Meaning Of Life The (Monty Pythons) CD1
Meaning Of Life The (Monty Pythons) CD2
Medea
Meet Joe Black
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Melody Time
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Men Behind the Sun
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Men Suddenly In Black
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Mentale La
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Mephisto CD1
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Mercury Rising
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Message in a Bottle
Metroland 1997
Metropolis
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Miami Tail A 2003
Michael Collins CD1
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Michael Jackson Moonwalker 1988
Michael Jordan To The Max 2000
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Michelangelo Antonioni - Blow up
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Middle of the Moment
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Midnight Clear A
Midnight Cowboy (1969)
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Midnight Mass 2002
Midnight Run CD1
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Mindhunters
Minimal Stories 2002
Minority Report 2002
Miracle On 34th Street
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Mission Cleopatra
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Missouri Breaks The 1976
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Mommie Dearest (1981)
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Mongjunggi
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Monsters Ball
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Monthy Python - Life Of Brian
Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl
Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl 1982
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
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Monty Pythons The Meaning of Life
Monty Pythons and the Meaning of Life
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Moonfleet 1955
Moonlight Whispers 1999
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Most Terrible Time In My Life The (1994)
Mostly Martha
Mother India 1957 CD1
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Mother Kusters Goes To Heaven 1975
Mother Night 1996
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Mouse Hunt
Mrs Doubtfire
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Muhammad - Legacy Of A Prophet CD1 2002
Muhammad - Legacy Of A Prophet CD2 2002
Mujer mas fea del mundo La
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Muppet Christmas Carol The
Murder By Numbers
Murder In The First 1995
Murder Most Foul (1964)
Murder My Sweet 1944
Murder at the Gallop
Muriels Wedding
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My Babys Daddy
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My Big Fat Greek Wedding
My Boss My Hero
My Bosss Daughter 2003
My Girlfriends Boyfriend (Eric Rohmer 1987)
My Life as a Dog 1985
My Life to Live
My Neighbors the Yamadas (Isao Takahata 1999) CD1
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My Son the Fanatic
My Tutor Friend (2003) CD1
My Tutor Friend (2003) CD2
My Wife Is A Gangster 2
My Wife Is Gangster
Mystery Of Rampo