The Immortal Story 1968

In nineteenth-century Macao, the aging Merchant, Fernando Rey presides over a life of quiet wealth, attended by his steadfast book-keeper, Elishama Levinsky, Roger Coggio. One evening, while Levinsky reads to Mr. Clay, Orson Welles, the atmosphere in the candlelit rooms grows thick with old memories and unspoken tensions. Clay declares his contempt for prophecies and interrupts to tell a shipboard tale he heard long ago about a rich old man who offers a sailor five guineas to impregnate his wife. Levinsky, who has heard versions of the same story from many seamen, quietly completes the narrative, and a dangerous spark is lit: the idea of turning a legend into a living act.

Clay’s obsession intensifies as he resolves to make the legend come true, and Levinsky is dispatched to recruit a sailor and a young woman to play the roles of husband and wife in this macabre experiment. The search leads Levinsky to Virginie Ducrot, Jeanne Moreau, the daughter of Clay’s former business partner. Virginie’s father was driven into bankruptcy and ultimately suicide by Clay’s ruthless dealings, leaving her with a burning hunger for revenge. On the streets, a destitute sailor named Paul, a young Dane rescued from a desert island, Norman Eshley is found and recruited. Paul, who has heard the same tale as everyone else, initially refuses, but the promise of money persuades him to take part.

As Virginie and Paul enter this fragile bond of complicity, a subtle emotional thread develops between them, even as they prepare to fulfill a plan that will wound Clay’s reputation and sting his pride. Virginie’s bitterness eases as she sees a possible path to vengeance, while Paul allows himself to be drawn into a companionship he never expected. Yet the pair’s union remains transactional, and once the plan unfolds, they drift toward separate destinies—Virginie releasing her fury, Paul stepping away from the villa with a quiet sense of loss. Before he leaves, Paul asks Clay to give Virginie a shell he found on his desert island that will play a song if she holds it to her ear, a small, haunting keepsake of a voyage and an alliance built on a dangerous lie.

Levinsky returns to report what happened, only to discover that the old merchant has died, leaving the operation unfinished and its moral weight unresolved. He brings the shell to his ear and, with a growing sense of déjà vu, remarks that the song sounds familiar, though the memory of where he heard it eludes him. The film closes on this note of memory and ambiguity, suggesting that some threads of fate, once set in motion, persist beyond the lives of their architects, leaving behind echoes that neither time nor death can fully quiet.