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I WAS AT HOME, BUT...
Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
To desperation turn my trust and hope.
An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope.
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy
meet what I would have well, and it destroy!
Both here and hence, pursue me lasting strife
if, once a widow, ever I be wife!
'Tis deeply sworn.
Sweet, leave me here awhile.
My spirits grow dull
and fain I would beguile
the tedious day with sleep.
Sleep rock thy brain.
And never come mischance
between us twain.
I might have a bike.
What's it like?
Ten gears. Silver.
Should we take a look?
Not now. I'll stay here.
I might need advice.
I have this jacket.
Hello.
This won't come clean.
I can't promise you anything.
Will you try?
Yes.
When should I come?
Thursday.
I hope it will come out. - Goodbye.
It looks really nice.
It's in perfect condition.
And you want 80 euros for it?
Yes.
Okay, I'll give it a try.
It's fine. I'll take it.
He's back with me.
He's back home.
He's doing well.
Flo, please don't cry.
Please don't cry.
Flo, stop crying.
It's okay not to kick him out of school if we care.
Sure.
I don't get it.
Do you want him to go or to stay? - To stay.
I just want to point out that I don't think he needs our care.
We still have to react in some way.
You want to be needed. I see.
I want to be needed too.
Me too.
I don't want to be more boring than my pupils.
Or you want pupils as boring as you are? - Exactly.
Are we going to decide or go home to bed?
It's me. Am I going to see you later?
No.
Please.
No, Lars.
Lars?
Yes, I'm here.
How old is she now? - Three and a half weeks.
Ying-Li is doing well? - Yes, very well.
Have her parents been to visit?
No, it's all a bit uncertain.
She and the baby might fly over.
Or we both will, in the holidays.
We'll see.
Are you honest?
My lord?
Are you fair?
What means your lordship?
That if you be honest and fair,
your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.
I did love you once.
Indeed, my lord,
you made me believe so.
You should not have believed me.
I loved you not.
I was the more deceived.
Yes?
Hello, it's Astrid.
I've come back about the bike.
I bought your bike.
Can you hear me?
Hello?
Mr. Meissner?
Yes?
It's Astrid.
The bike. You remember?
Could you come out here?
Hello.
I've brought your bike back.
The back wheel gets jammed and it skips from one gear to the next on its own.
The ad said it had been reconditioned but it's junk.
Please take it back.
Mr. Meissner, please take it back.
It doesn't work properly. I bought it under mistaken premises.
I can repair it.
I'd be happy to do that.
Mr. Meissner, I don't have time!
I don't need a bike that doesn't work.
It hadn't been reconditioned. You deceived me.
Voilà!
No, I don't want the bike anymore.
I believe that it'll work now but I can't keep coming here to get it fixed.
You won't have to do that.
It works fine again now.
But I don't want it!
I made a mistake. Mr. Meissner!
If what you say is true, you can sell it again.
I've already removed the advertisement though.
Put it back in.
I can't do that.
I need help
and my friend isn't here at the moment.
Your friend?
I'll leave you the new saddle, then you make a profit.
Where's the old one?
What? - Where is the old saddle?
I don't have it. The new one is better.
It isn't junk.
No, it's not junk. I'm sorry I said it's junk.
But it caused me lots of stress and the gears don't work either.
Okay.
I'll take the time to have a proper look at that.
Meaning?
I'll make sure that it works properly again.
No!
You bought it.
I know. I made a mistake.
I don't understand why you won't take it back.
If what you say is true and it's a good bike
you'll sell it again quickly.
I don't have your money anymore.
Okay. Goodbye.
I can get it to you next week.
Yeah?
I can transfer the money to you.
Really? Then I'll give you my account number.
Hello.
How are you?
Fine, thanks.
Phillip doesn't know I'm here.
I came here without planning to.
I wanted to tell you...
all of you...
I keep imagining you talking about him
and it's torture.
I know you have to make an informed judgement, but...
that doesn't seem possible to me
as any judgement is unthinkable or wrong,
and I'm sorry I'm confronting you with a problem I can't solve,
but I came because...
I don't think anyone can understand something they have never felt,
that hasn't affected them personally.
I know I can't influence your decision.
I came because I fear for my son as I worry he will be treated unfairly
because this child, my son...
My whole life is in his hands,
as is the life of his sister,
although it's in my hands too, but...
it has to do with the fact he's a man,
or is becoming one.
There's no word for that state of becoming and being at the same time.
At the same time. I see it...
I would like to ask you not to worry.
If that's at all possible.
To worry?
Yes...
I think it's stupid that I came here.
I'm not sure... How does one talk to a radiator?
No, a radiator....
is something else.
I'm glad you're his class teacher.
Goodbye.
We're looking for Phillip.
Is that the boy with sepsis?
He's having surgery.
Hi.
What are you doing?
Hey?
Nothing.
How was your match? - I lost.
You lost?
Six to three, six to seven, three to six.
I was pretty good, but the other guy was better.
I'm exhausted.
I understand.
I have to sleep.
Will I see you tomorrow?
That'd be nice.
Hello.
Do you live here?
Only when I'm here in Berlin.
Because you have a bike, I mean.
I borrowed it.
She's lovely. - Yes.
Good luck with the professorship.
Thanks. I haven't heard yet. - It usually takes a while.
Acting is liberation,
and staging death is deliverance from it, says the director,
thought what he knows is irrelevant.
That's why I think theatre is the opposite of death in a way.
So acting, when an actor acts, it's always a lie
because he's doing something unnecessary,
that isn't natural but rather something he decides to do
because the director wants it, the script says so,
or because he just had the idea himself.
But it's very rare that we see an actor or dancer do what they really have to do
because, although it's not impossible, we just never see it
and that's why I find it odd to place a terminally ill person,
who knows, who really knows they're going to die soon...
to place that person opposite an actor.
The gravity that's seized the ill person,
the undeniable truth plain to see on their person,
contrasts so starkly with the actor who only pretends,
who is a master liar with every fibre of their being,
who sees it as their duty to use their body to tell lies.
I didn't see the rest of your film because I had to go
but that moment where the dancer, whose only concern is controlling her body,
meets the sick woman, who has understood there's nothing she can control,
and is therefore much more "body" than the dancer...
Because she knows that she's going to die,
that she is at the mercy of her body, that she is her body,
she has actually achieved the dancer's goal of being nothing but body.
While the dancer tries with control, actually the opposite is true:
the truth only reveals itself when you are forced to lose control.
So the dancer is just pretending, it's all pretend,
while the ill woman can't pretend a thing.
I mean, in that encounter between them you see how hollow and empty acting is.
When the dancer touches the woman and smiles,
it's not two people meeting, it's false meeting true,
false smile versus true smile, and so the encounter means nothing
because false is always stronger
and one false moment ruins the whole thing.
It's like food, you've got a great dish,
but one false spice, or too much of it, and the whole thing is ruined.
It's not a great analogy, but do you get it?
Maybe you have to watch the entire film.
Yes. Yes, I will watch it.
I only saw the bit you mentioned.
I'm sorry that I got so excited about it.
Do you have much to do with theatre?
Not at all. I hardly go to the theatre now.
But my children's dad was a theatre director.
He died two years ago.
I understand.
What? What do you understand?
Why you react like that.
Yeah?
Why do I react like that?
It's your own personal truth.
The people... who are sick
got a lot out of meeting the artists.
For me, the dancers and the actors are artists.
I get that. But it wasn't a social project.
That's not what you were doing.
No.
I wanted to do it
because I was interested in the people.
But not because I was trying to help them.
I'm not a therapist.
But when you actually do it,
when you're working on a film with other people,
then it does become important
how the work affects those people.
What it means to them.
Whether they have the feeling
that the things that are being expected of them
mean something to them.
And that was the case. There was meaning.
The sick people we worked with confirmed that.
And that's something I sensed as well.
Those encounters, that physical contact, were important.
Something new, something different. - Yes. I believe that.
But that's a different matter.
But I do get it. Of course it has meaning, or can have.
And that's great,
but if I'm just someone at the cinema, then I don't care about that
and I don't like when a lie meets the truth and makes it look silly
because the people who meet...
because the people who meet don't share a common truth.
I think art, including performance art,
is always an encounter between two things
that transform as a result of that encounter,
and there are elements that meet but nothing happens.
Nothing emerges. They don't transform. Like oil and water?
They can't mix. It's just theory. You were exploring a theory.
You can do that, but then it's based only on an idea, not experience.
Never mind. I shouldn't be so upset because you didn't hurt me.
It's okay. - It's an experiment
and I get that you wanted to try it.
And in your eyes, the experiment failed. - Yes!
In mine it didn't. - Okay!
If you don't have a problem filming an actor on stage like it's real life,
then you don't have a problem.
There are wonderful moments at the start
where you show what life is,
like the amazing scene where the old woman gets up in the morning.
How you did that is pure art: it only exists because you did it.
The colours, the light, the movement of the body,
the bed as a place where we sleep, that we have to leave in the morning,
all of us, throughout our entire lives,
unless you live in the woods
where there are no beds, just earth to which we must return one day.
That's why you already seek the earth and reject the soft warm bed
so as not to forget that one day the body will, without a doubt,
reunite with it.
But...
that's not what I wanted to say.
I assume you sleep in a bed, not in the woods.
This encounter with the "artists"... And you might as well call them that
though it means different things to everyone, as all words do.
It's amazing we even expect to be understood,
yet words just come pouring out.
The artists meeting the sick people was unbearably bad cinema!
Do you understand?
I understood that some time ago. - Right!
What did you call it? Personal truth?
Should I choke on my own truth?
You don't want to be alone with your truth,
you want to share it with others! Although that's nonsense.
An opinion can be shared but opinion isn't truth,
but okay...
But I still think it'd be great if you get the professorship.
I find you quite likable. - We'll see.
The others were keen, though, as I'm sure you noticed.
Where are we going now?
Nowhere.
I live over there.
Thank you. That was helpful. - My pleasure.
I talked your ear off. I'm sorry.
Sometimes I think I'm going mad.
No, no. It was interesting.
Are you staying here long? - One month.
You chose the grey Berlin winter.
Yes.
Take care. And don't be cross with me.
I hope to see you again.
Goodbye. Take care.
Flo, you're not supposed to cook alone!
Mum! - Damn it!
Mum, nothing happened. - I don't want you to turn on the stove!
Do something else! Make toast or something!
Do you understand me? - Yes.
Leave it! You'll make a bigger mess!
Go away!
Don't act like you need protecting! I won't do anything to you!
Do you want something?
Flo, eat if you're hungry! - I'm not hungry.
Mum, you eat one.
I have to get this clean.
Leave me!
Stop it, Phillip!
Leave me be! Please!
Get out!
Out!
Both of you, out!
Out!
Get out!
Get lost! Get out of here!
When will I see you again?
Tomorrow?
What are you doing tonight?
Going to dinner with my dad.
Just the two of you?
Yes.
I want him to give me money.
For the app? - Yes.
It's not much. Eight thousand.
Will that be enough?
For the time being.
What's it like having a rich dad?
Normal.
It is what it is.
Where are you eating?
I don't know. He wants steak.
Steak...
You could...
We'll find something.
Hello? - ... my name...
Sorry? - You can come get the money.
Get it?
Meissner, hello?
Yes. Sorry.
When are you at home today? - Today.
Is the speaker broken?
The bike guy's giving me the money back.
Great!
Where are you going to get a bike?
You could take it back if he's fixed it.
You're joking?
I don't want that bike.
Bye. - Bye.
When in your motion you are hot and dry
as make your bouts more violent to that end
and that he calls for drink I'll have prepared him
a chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping
if he by chance escape your venom'd stuck
our purpose may hold there.
What is that noise?
One woe doth tread upon another's heel.
Laertes,
your sister's drown'd.
Drown'd!
O, where?
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
There with fantastic garlands did she come
of crowflowers,
nettles, and long purples,
that liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
but our cold maids
do dead men's fingers call them.
There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
clambering to hang,
an envious silver broke.
When down her weedy trophies and herself fell
in the weeping brook.
Her clothes spread wide
and, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up,
which time she chanted snatches of old tunes
as one incapable of her own distress,
or like a creature native and induc'd
unto that element.
But long it could not be
till that her garments,
heavy with their drink,
pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
to muddy death.
Alas, then,
she is drown'd?
Drown'd,
drown'd.
Are you staying? - Should I?
I have to go shopping. - Stay a bit.
Right? You want her to watch? - Yes!
Sit.
Excuse me!
I want a crate of these. There are only single bottles inside.
Thank you.
Who are you?
Get out of here.
Get lost.
Now get out of here.
Come on.
All the creatures in the world...
It's too much for me.
How can I determine between good and bad?
Aren't they all the same?
And then, in this mass of senseless creatures...
a child.
One that only exists because you and I wanted it.
It seems crazy.
If everyone's crazy, why can't we be too?
Isn't it enough that we know each other?
I'm scared of vanishing.
Then there'll be nothing left.
I'll hold you.
How much longer?
It's hard to believe you love me if you don't want a child.
I understand. - Do you love me?
I think I do. - You think so?
How can I know? - I know that I love you.
I feel that I have to be lonely.
A person who is lonely and has nothing.
When I see you or think of you, I feel loved.
But that doesn't alter the fact that I'm alone.
Having a child wouldn't change that.
What do you mean?
There's a reason why we're here.
A mission.
What kind of mission is that? Being lonely and alone?
Who does it help?
What does it achieve?
I don't know.
It's just a feeling.
How does it feel?
I don't know.
I feel it very deeply.
But is it good? Does it feel good?
Good?
Deep.
I am steeped in loneliness.
In loneliness?
That's not true.
That's horrible.
It's a nightmare.
I couldn't be anyone's wife. That's not my mission.
Stop talking about a silly mission. - What?
You're convincing yourself of it.
Okay, you want to be alone. But that's not a mission.
What's the goal?
I don't know. I already told you that.
I just want to be ready. - Ready for what?
Lars, can't you hear? I don't know!
We don't have forever, you know?
But you think you love me.
Okay.
Come for the third, Laertes. You but dally.
I pray you, pass with your best violence. I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
Say you so? Come on.
Nothing, neither way.
Have at you now!
Look to the queen there, ho!
How does the queen?
She swoons to see them bleed.
No, no! The drink!
The drink!
O my dear Hamlet! The drink!
I am poison'd.
O villainy!
Ho! Let the door be lock'd.
Hamlet,
thou art slain.
No medicine in the world
can do thee good.
In thee
is not half an hour of life.
The treacherous instrument
is in thy hand.
Unbated
and envenom'd.
The foul practice
hath turned itself on me.
Lo!
Here I lie,
never to rise again.
The point envenom'd.
The king!
The king's to blame.
The point envenom'd too!
Then, venom, to thy work.
Treason!
O, yet defend me, friends. I am but hurt.
Incestuous, murderous,
damned Dane!
Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?
Follow my mother.
Horatio, I am dead.
Thou liv'st.
Report me and my cause aright.
To the unsatisfied.
Never believe it.
I swear it.
Here's yet some liquor left.
Give me the cup.
Let go, by heaven.
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
absent thee from felicity awhile
and in this harsh world
draw thy breath in pain
to tell my story.
What noise is this?
So warlike.
Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland
to the ambassadors of England gives this warlike volley.
O, I die, Horatio.
The potent poison
quite o'er-crows my spirit.
I cannot live to hear the news
from England.
But I do prophesy
the election lights
on Fortinbras.
He has my dying voice.
So tell him.
With the occurrents, more or less.
which have solicited.
The rest... is silence.
Now cracks a noble heart.
Goodnight, sweet prince.
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.