Finsterworld (2013) Movie Script

Pedicure Claude Petersdorf,
good morning.
Yes, we do home visits.
We usually do a neutral footbath
or you could have a scented one.
No, no. Cutting and polishing of
the toenails of course,
removal of calluses and corns,
creamy foot massage.
Sure. Just a moment,
let me take down your address.
I can't find a pen just now.
God, no.
Listen, I'm on my way to an appointment.
Would you mind calling me back later?
Hello... I know you're not supposed
to use the phone while driving...
I don't usually do this, never, I swear.
Driver's license, please.
My business hasn't been going well.
Times are hard,
so I took one tiny call this morning.
Once is one too many.
- Forty euros, and one penalty point.
- Another penalty point!
I won't be allowed to drive any longer.
I won't be able to work.
I won't be able to see my clients
in the old people's home.
They're always so glad to see me.
Well, I'm sorry for the old people.
Couldn't I possibly just give you
the forty Euros just like that?
Hold it. Wait.
Here, let me give you this foot cream.
Here, take this one too.
And this one is for your hands.
Makes them super soft.
Us men tend to forget these things.
Please take them.
And won't you take the money too?
Hey, don't you have a bag?
Yes, of course.
- Drive safely!
- Thank you!
- And next time, wear a seatbelt.
- Yeah.
Thank you.
You know this underwear
with an elephant in front?
Where the penis is
inside the front, like this?
Is someone who wears
this kind of stuff a furry?
Furries are people who wish they
really were stuffed animals. For real.
They meet at abandoned plane hangars
in their fur suits,
and they cuddle each other.
So do they have sex then?
Do they?
Oh, sexy...
It's the Navy SEALS...
There's a slight discrepancy between
your foul breath and slick hairstyle.
She's right.
You do smell a little odd today.
Yeah, right. Are you crazy?
Just kidding, buddy.
It was a perfect morning
until you two showed up.
I for one totally missed you.
Maybe you just missed
a functioning brain?
So, ready for the concentration camp,
you morons?
Yes, kind of...
Utter shit, if I may be so blunt.
Total waste of time.
Maybe you shouldn't have chosen
history, higher level?
- Don't really need it for studying
management, do you? - Come on, Natalie.
Do you ever miss your wife?
Not even at meals? How about mornings?
- Nope.
- Eating alone is kind of sad, isn't it?
How do you feel about that?
I don't care.
And your wife?
You don't care about her either?
- Come on, tell me.
- Nah.
You want a plate?
You cannot look into the camera
in a documentary, Mr. Malchow.
I won't be able to use any of this.
I forgot.
So, would you like a bite or not?
Yummy, isn't it?
Yes, it's good... Yep.
Have you ever thought about how many
hours you spend watching television?
- Nope.
- Let's say... maybe nine hours a day.
Three in the morning, three
in the afternoon, three in the evening.
Sixty-three hours a week, divided by
twenty-four. That's two and a half days.
Ten days a month.
That's a hundred and twenty days a year.
That's a third of the whole year.
That's years we're talking about.
How old are you again?
Just a second.
Hi there. Yes, hang on,
let me just quickly go next door.
It's my editor from the TV station.
Do you mind...?
No, everything is incredibly authentic.
A bit too real, I think. Scary stuff.
Yes, this is radically new,
just like I promised.
Well no, he's not quite ready
to reveal his inner self yet,
but I'll manage to get it out of him,
you know me.
What do you think about the title,
"Spaghetti for Breakfast"?
Ah well okay, just an idea...
There's this vast melancholy
to the film. Sure.
With a bit of hope as well of course...
A new neo-realism...
Yes, exactly.
Excuse me? Well, hope...
for a brighter tomorrow and...
for change
and a life beyond numbness.
Yes, exactly.
You'd like to see it by next week?
Yes sure, I can do that.
Alright, we'll talk.
Thank you for calling.
Bye for now.
Let's put tap water into
the bottles from the mini-bar.
Then we won't have to pay for them.
Good morning, Inga.
White lilies in large vases,
all over the world,
- in every single hotel room.
- Yes.
No... that's the expiry date.
Zero - five - zero - fourteen.
- And where's that security code?
- Always on the front with an Amex.
Excuse me, there is no flight today?
Dusseldorf. Ask about Dusseldorf!
But can't you see in the system that
we have to be in Paris tomorrow morning?
So what use is the HON membership card?
And to rent a car
and return it in Paris?
Forget it.
1900 Euros? Including the discount?
but the highest category of car then.
And no Nazi car please.
So, no Mercedes, no Porsche, no BMW.
You only have German cars?
So be creative!
Yes, I do have an account with you.
Georg, that's disgusting!
Send it to my phone
and the car to the hotel's car park.
I certainly will not pick it up
in your... branch office.
That's way too depressing.
Did you get it?
Good morning.
Knock, knock.
I already wanted to go out and buy some.
I always have
this terrible appetite for sweets.
You can't buy these, Mrs. Sandberg,
because I bake them with a secret.
Always the most wonderful part.
Chamomile essence.
Makes the skin soft and supple.
My first husband couldn't bake at all.
He came back from Siberian camps in '53.
His hands were shattered.
I was nearly arrested on my way here.
I mean, not really...
The policeman wasn't too bad,
I have such a fundamental
fear of authorities, of...
- uniforms, violence.
- I'm the same.
You'd think the world had become
a better place, but...
the residents here are so aggressive
against anything that's different.
But still...
could you pass me the menu please?
Chicken fricassee again tomorrow.
The same every week.
But always on different days of the week
so we won't notice.
I love chicken fricassee
if it's done well.
Now lift please.
And here's the machine again.
My son Georg...
he's afraid of death.
So he's also afraid of me, of old age.
That's how I have to explain it to
myself. That's why he doesn't come.
Ah well...
But my grandson...
I miss him terribly.
Now it is all pretty again.
They do feel so much lighter.
You are an artist, Claude. An artist.
I can't tell you how much
your praise means to me.
I wanted to tell you...
about your grandson...
Well... I'm truly sorry.
Oh wow.
- Oh, my God!
- Let's hope nobody sees us in here.
- Will you look at this?
- Isn't it fantastic?
Not bad, actually.
You sit inside the bubble and don't hear
anything except this pleasant purr.
- You hear that?
- Beautiful. Soothing.
Anything irritating stays outside.
- God, it's so ugly in here.
- Everything's dulled, sealed off.
They call it psychoacoustics.
So when someone buys
such an expensive car,
he then wants to test his new
exoskeleton to the limit, of course.
That's why there's no speed limit.
Death racing is only allowed in Germany.
So that everybody thinks they're free.
I'm starving.
We'll stop at an organic supermarket.
Can't we just go to McDonald's?
You sound just like your son.
No, we can't.
Nice how you always
decide everything for me.
Are you allowed to light me a cigarette?
So, how much
is one of these beautiful furs?
Ah well, they start at three thousand.
I'll have to write quite a few
parking tickets for that then.
A smile is the
small change of happiness.
Thank you.
- Hello?
- Hi, there.
I was just thinking that we could do
something together this afternoon.
Just the two of us.
Cooking, talking and stuff.
I have this Thai food craving.
Could you perhaps go shopping?
I can't manage with
all my camera stuff. Alright?
Do you have a pen?
So... two cans of...
coconut milk, lemongrass,
coriander, mild fish sauce
and some small red Thai onions,
about 100 grams.
And a ripe mango would be great.
It's best if... no, not
too hard and not too soft.
Listen, Tom, I have to go.
Something I could use in the film
is happening here. See you later.
And don't forget the mango. Kisses. Bye.
What are you doing?
Hi, sweetie. Is everything alright?
Are you hurt?
Where's your mom?
- Don't you have a mom? Probably
working all day, isn't she? - Fuck off!
Do you know this ad for
Werther's Echte bonbons?
A boy walks into this village shop
and a voice says something like
"I still remember like it were yesterday
when grandpa gave me my first bonbon. "
This advert is so cheesy,
so annoying and mushy.
So now, every time
I see one of these bonbons,
I have to think about this ad
and how gooey it makes me feel inside.
And yet strangely cosy at the same time.
Then I'm taken over by
this feeling of unease...
like peeling scabs off a wound.
- Do you know what I mean?
- Uh huh.
I especially get this feeling with
the lyrics of German folk songs.
Take "A bird wanted to get
married," for example.
A bird wanted to get married
in the beautiful forest...
Somehow I'm disgusted to sing it,
but then I just can't stop saying it!
Yes, and this...
- Oh no! - auf einem Baum
ein Kuckuck sa.
This... sim-sala-bim-bam-
It's horrible!
You just cannot stop saying it!
I don't really know anything about it
even though my son works in advertising.
Do you think...
that people like him
who create ads
utilize this disgusting feeling
with the scabs?
Maybe other people just don't
have these feelings at all?
My grandson.
Now, please don't forget what
we talked about over and over again.
You have to have been to the places.
together with other people,
again and again.
And then you understand
that you have to know and to see.
And you have to see and to know.
One cannot be separated from the other.
When you visit
a formwer concentration camp
wuthout knowing something about
the history of the camp
you won't see anything
and you'll understand nothing.
Please remember this
during our visit today.
Your boyfriend is really gross!
- He's your boyfriend, isn't he?
- Nope.
So you both read comic books,
both wear horrible specs.
Sanitation seems to be of
secondary importance.
Style of clothing: from East
German avant-garde to insane.
And apart from that: plain ridiculous.
Then how come you're on the bus
with scum like us?
Wouldn't that be something. Arriving
at the camp in Dad's Mini Cooper.
Excuse me, Mr. Nickel.
Yes, Maximilian?
I'm really shocked by the text
you just read, I have to say.
The inhuman, cold brutality
and the systemic annihilation...
But what I find equally shocking is
the way in which some among us
treat food like a toy
- while you talk about starving
prisoners. - You know, Maximilian,
isn't really a virtue either.
Maybe you'd like to talk to me about it
during our visit of the camp?
Nah, I'd rather not.
I do believe you'd like to.
Very much, actually.
Would you have married me
if I had a tattoo?
What if you hadn't noticed before?
You can tell by someone's character.
Someone like you wouldn't have a tattoo.
But... still.
What if it were in a spot...
where you hadn't noticed it?
What kind of a spot would that be?
Don't know.
For example...
between the buttocks.
It would have to be
directly at the butthole.
That'd be the only place
I haven't seen.
Ouch. That would really hurt
to stab in there with a needle.
- By the way, did you call
Maximilian? - No.
We agreed to call him every three
days. That was yesterday.
Why don't you call him? If I call him I
can virtually hear him rolling his eyes.
He hates me.
He's only nice to me
if he wants something. Money.
or a Mini Cooper...
- You are the one spoiling him.
- They're all spoiled.
But ours is the most spoiled.
Whatever. I haven't liked him
- since he reached puberty.
- Can you remember if with a HON card
- the frequent flyer miles expire
after two years? - That's such a fraud!
You have to collect 600,000 miles,
and then the card is
completely worthless.
Because then you can't
even get a flight.
But isn't it sort of beautiful?
Right now. Isn't it really beautiful?
Just like old times.
Franziska calling
- How's the Grner Veltliner?
- Terrific.
Austrians make
the best white wines. Films too.
Haneke, for example, or Seidl.
If only my films were more like theirs.
- Maybe you should make a film in
Austria. - That guy Malchow's
just so incredibly passive-aggressive.
It's so frustrating.
He answers every single one of
my questions with hmph or nope.
- Most people are like that, aren't
they? - That's just the problem.
If I believed that I'd have to stop
making films immediately.
There is beauty in this world, dammit,
there's love.
Just look how beautiful it is in here.
It's so depressing. There's nothing
happening in his life or I don't get it.
But isn't depressing
good in a documentary?
By the way,
what do you think about pedicures?
I thought about it
in the squad car today.
Don't you think it's incredibly gross to
scrape calluses off strangers' feet?
Or dentists who scrape petrified food
out of people's mouths?
Of all things to do as a job
that's what I'd like to do least.
I'd least like to be this person
I'm filming right now. Honestly.
That's part of the problem, really.
I can't stand the guy. You should at
least be interested in your subjects.
But this guy is just dim and moronic.
Please don't.
In fact what I am selling as authentic
is like filming into a black void.
A black void
reeking of beer and cold ashtrays.
No, stop it, Tom.
I can't do this right now, I'm sorry.
- Some coriander?
- Yes, please. Thank you.
It's horrible. I have to lie to
my editor the whole time.
and pretend that everything's under
control and that I know what I'm doing.
Maybe you should look
for a different topic then?
Like what for example?
Animal documentaries.
Something like... something cute.
Squirrels looking for nuts...
or something dangerous.
Lions in Africa lying in wait for zebras
at the waterhole.
Because cute or dangerous
is never boring.
That's really cute and all.
But that's not why I love films.
I don't care about animals
hanging around at the waterhole.
That has absolutely nothing to do
with me and my world.
Neither has this dull guy
in his unemployment misery.
So it's the same as filming animals.
Just they look a lot better
doing nothing.
I keep thinking about the empty street
corner in Antonioni's L'eclisse.
There are these two people,
and you think they're in love.
And in the end they have no feelings
for each other. Do you understand?
Neither of them comes
to the meeting point in the end
and not because one of them
loves the other one more,
but simply because no one cares.
That's what I want to show.
But that's what's really dull, when
people don't have feelings any longer.
And filming empty street corners is the
dullest thing of all. - Honestly, Tom,
- you don't have a clue
what you're talking about. - Why not?
I don't pretend to know anything
about your job, do I?
Traffic rules, level of fines,
payload, tow hitch...
Look, I know
you're under a lot of pressure.
But that's no reason to be so spiteful.
I know, I'm sorry.
I got you a little something.
Oh man.
Go on, open it.
Did I forget something?
An engagement ring, perhaps?
Footcare green.
Invigorating footcare.
Footcare blue.
A silky footbath and...
toenail protection liquid.
These are all foot products.
Is there something about my...
did you...
I thought I'd do you a favor.
Since you're up on your feet all day.
- Stupid idea, was it?
- No, thank you.
Thanks, you're very sweet.
- I just have to learn
how to take time out, don't I? - Yep.
We don't want you to
go daft in your own stink
on Hitler's Autobahn.
So we'll take a ten-minute break.
Heil Hitler, Mr. Nickel.
Judging by the level of your jokes it is
a perfect moment for some fresh air.
Don't forget to relieve yourselves.
Relieve yourselves.
God, isn't Germany beautiful?
Public toilets are disgusting,
don't you think?
Yes. Urinals, especially.
I'm always afraid of
other people's bacteria
swimming up the arc of my pee
like salmon.
I always cover the entire
toilet with paper towels.
One layer goes on top of the water
to retain surface tension,
so that it doesn't splash.
The worst diseases:
gonorrhea, swine flu.
Typhus, meningitis,
encephalitis, bilharziosis.
Hey Dominik, you got any toilet paper?
Yuck, not on the floor.
I have to wipe myself with that.
Who are you talking to in there?
If it were my gas station, I'd sell
homemade chocolate chip cookies
- not this junk.
- Right!
With fake wood paneling
and sixties lampshades.
And cheesecake
and a groovy lounge area.
Yeah, why not?
And it would be called...
You're a genius.
And you like to think small.
So could I borrow
the small sum of one Euro?
What do I get in return then?
For one Euro...
I'm known to do pretty much anything.
Kiss, kiss.
Forgot something?
Could you do me a favor?
I don't want to go see
this concentration camp.
- I'd rather stay here. - You'll have to
get Nickel to let you, won't you?
Couldn't you just count off for me?
And let Natalie know?
I don't know...
I'll write next week's essay for you.
- You'll just have to read it out loud.
- Really?
Okay, deal.
- Dominik wanted to let you know that
he's gone home again. - How come?
Didn't feel like coming along.
It's okay, don't worry.
You know the drill.
Oh wow.
Surreal that there really is
a sign on the highway:
concentration camp this way.
Where's Dominik?
- Wasn't he sitting next to you?
- He's on the toilet.
Jonas, this bus has no toilets.
I was talking about the toilet...
- back at the gas station.
- Excuse me?
He... wanted to go back.
I'm supposed to tell you...
that... he left.
And you remembered to tell me this now,
all of a sudden?
Who answered
when I called out his name?
Alright, I see.
If nobody admits to it then all of you
will be punished collectively.
Kind of sounds exactly like
where we're headed to...
You seem very smart, Maximilian,
but you're putting your intelligence
to idiotic use.
was it you?
I'm warning you.
It wasn't me, alright? I swear.
You can't be serious.
Are you planning on behaving like
in a kindergarten
at the elite universities
you're aiming for, too?
Dominik told me he wanted to go back.
Don't know why either.
Why didn't you tell me?
Write a twenty-page essay on
Marinus van der Lubbe
and the Reichstag fire. Due Tuesday.
you'll be marked down one grade.
And going from D to an E
won't end very well for you.
Faggot pig.
Hi, beetle.
What a nice color you have.
Where are you going?
I don't know. I...
I'm kind of on the run.
I mean, not really...
But I want to get away from it all...
You know, with us humans,
it's like this: you are born,
and then you're a child
and curious about everything.
And the older you get,
the more disappointed you become.
You become more closed-minded.
More and more insensitive, hardened,
indifferent and dulled.
You're right, absolutely.
It's like being dead.
Only you're still breathing
I'm not sure, do beetles even breathe?
Do you even have a lung?
Anyway, that's why I want to get away.
You've got to go too, right?
Toilets in the Third World,
no matter how dirty they are,
are never as gross as toilets in Europe.
The worst is Paris. Parisian restaurants
are always nice and plush,
but if you got to the toilet, which is
usually right next to the kitchen,
there is shit smeared everywhere.
But it's all okay,
after all, you're in Paris.
And you can say you've been there
and Sofia Coppola too.
And Europe is much cleaner than Africa.
- By the way, I have to pee.
- Want me to stop at the next rest stop?
Rest stop?
Dead bodies of raped hitchhikers.
Don't you watch television?
It's creepy.
Let's stop at the field over there.
- It's your mother.
- Makes my mood take a nosedive.
Oh yeah? And what doesn't?
Freshly starched bedsheets.
Claude. I'm sorry for
calling out of the blue like that.
No, no... not at all.
I just thought...
you know...
wouldn't it be possible, I mean...
Could you come visit me?
I mean right now.
This is hard for me to say, but...
I feel so terribly lonely.
Do you believe in God, Claude?
Oh... I don't know.
In something more... yes.
How to put it?
Something larger than ourselves...
No reason.
- You think I'm ridiculous, don't you?
- No, not at all.
I have to be able
to believe in something.
It can't be that we're living our lives
in a meaningless, dead universe.
No. There is a secret.
A profound mystery. But we forget.
Life goes by so fast...
You blink once... and you're old.
Oh Claude...
you're wonderful.
Could you bring a tissue please?
Georg, where are you?
What are you doing here?
What are you doing?
He was watching you pee.
- What? When?
- Just now.
- Nonsense, I was walking.
- Shut your trap, you despicable voyeur.
- Georg, stop it!
- It's unbelievable.
Why would I lie in wait
in the middle of nowhere in order to
to observe older women...
Sorry, Madam.
I mean only in comparison to myself.
to observe older women pee?
What else were you planning on then?
I'm lost, okay?
Hahaha, I know what I saw.
Pull yourself together now.
This isn't the Vietnam war!
Georg, Georg!
Wait. Are you hurt?
I'm so sorry. He's just so...
protective of me.
I don't want the little shit in our car.
- You hurt him, Georg. You really hurt
him. - Do you think he can sue me?
Not just that.
How can you be so aggressive
towards a child?
Don't be ridiculous, he's no child.
We'll take him along for a bit
and lose him at the next gas station.
Everybody's happy, alright?
I don't expect you
to walk appropriately, but
please bear in mind that
our own grandparents did this.
People we're related to,
people we know.
My grandfather was in the resistance.
I'm not talking about
our individual grandparents.
There is a collective guilt. Absolutely.
Didn't the English invent those camps
in the Boer War?
Maybe not quite as extreme, but...
I will not tolerate, not on this
occasion, your historical relativism.
- I won't tolerate it.
- I'm sorry. It won't happen again.
How can one people assume the right
to extinguish another people?
The pictures of the liberation
of the camp in 1945
are the pictures before our eyes
when thinking of German crimes.
Corpses piled on top of each other.
Decaying human bodies
everywhere you look.
The barracks overflowing with
emaciated prisoners.
in all stages of
consumption and disease.
People who had lost everything.
Their physical and spiritual dignity,
that is...
their very right to be human.
Let's talk about your impressions.
So... what are your thoughts?
I know I went on for quite a while, but...
what are your feelings?
It's important to talk about this.
Maybe that was a little much.
- Shit, man. I think I left my
scarf there. - Come again?
When we were in there, I still had it.
Now it's gone.
I know you'd like to be like me,
but I'd never be such an imbecile.
Your scarf, my ass. That was my scarf,
you borrowed it, you moron!
- I'm sorry.
- Shut the fuck up!
When I was little,
we had a Colombian nanny.
We used to hate it
when she cut our fingernails.
She was really smart though and
made it into a kind of children's party
with chips and coca cola....
And so cutting the fingernails
wasn't so bad anymore.
Our parents
never allowed chips and Coke.
Claude, what are you doing?
That feels so...
It's been so long
since somebody touched me.
I touched you. Many times.
Every time I touched your feet,
I imagined kissing them.
- they're old and ugly.
- No...
You have the most beautiful feet
I have ever seen.
I was consumed by desire
to kiss them, like now.
I collected the skin dust off your feet
and took it home with me.
Like an origami bird made out of
tissue paper, next to my pillow.
I couldn't sleep.
Night after night, month after month.
What do you think the secret ingredient
in the cookies was?
- Cookies? - The cookies
I baked every week with love.
Those were your
oh-so-sweet skin shavings.
I don't understand.
- Didn't you feel it?
- Feel it?
I made cookies which we ate together.
Both of us, together.
- Help!
- I'm so sorry.
Sorry, I am so sorry.
People don't feel comfortable
in their own skin.
They would prefer to be someone else.
That's how I feel too.
The only thing I want,
is to not finish this film
and that's that.
Just imagine you could be someone else.
- But you'd still be yourself.
- I don't understand.
Take my uniform, for example.
When I put it on,
I'm no longer Tom for others
but this uniform.
I'm talking about
being something completely different.
Take the animals in Africa,
- they have such soft paws...
- Yeah right. Africa,
brilliant idea.
Just doing what everybody else does.
Best go to a war-torn country,
take out the camera,
film the despondent squalor people
live in
- and let them talk to the camera.
- Hang on...
No, you hang on.
You can't just got to Rwanda,
film the poor Africans and show the
film there. It won't change anything.
People will only feel that others
are worse off than themselves.
Can we talk about us
and not your films for just one second?
Or at least about me?
There's something important I'd like to...
People in Rwanda just tell you
what you want to hear,
because they've been through hell,
and that then is considered authentic.
- I just want to... - Misery is just
paraded in front of the camera.
It's horrible!
Do you realize we've become like that
street corner in your favorite film?
Where nobody shows up in the end?
I just want to talk about my problems.
That's really uncalled for, Tom.
I'm sorry.
You're so egocentric at the moment,
what's going on with you?
- I am egocentric?
- Absolutely.
You don't even notice, do you?
Can you even imagine, in your
I- get-a-fat-paycheck-every-month
I- ran-a-stop-sign-world?
Can you imagine that there are people
who want more from life?
Who want to create something?
And next month
or next year,
once you've been promoted,
you might even be allowed to handle
aggravated robbery. Congratulations!
And then he smokes a spliff back home
to escape his own pitiful bourgeoisness.
I went shopping for you,
I cooked for you.
I keep executing
your directorial commands.
Remember the red onions and the mango.
Not the mango from the supermarket,
but the good one... do this, do that.
All with a wink because I was sure
you didn't mean it like that...
as vicious and as condescending
as it sounds.
I wanted to tell you something
about myself, about my true feelings.
You want to talk to me about feelings?
You're completely insensitive, Tom.
And you are what you are:
a miserable pseudo-artist, eaten up by
ambition, superficial and frigid,
who has never made a film
that anyone has ever been interested in
except for your
fifty hipster film friends.
Do you even see me?
Want one?
That's awfully expensive.
If you'd finally introduce flat beds
in business as promised,
one could actually fly with it. As it
is, your business class is a disgrace.
Just let it go and book it already.
I hate Germany.
Bad, is it?
Nah, not really.
It really must have looked as if...
- Ah well, never mind.
- Forget it.
Did you know that of all people, it's
the Germans who spend most on travel?
Because it's so ugly here.
Crowded with impolite... rude people.
Bombed out city centers
smothered with concrete.
Stuttgart or Berlin.
Stuttgart is so ugly, nobody would
notice if it were completely torn down.
And when you're abroad,
you're ashamed to be German.
- You don't identify with this country.
- Interesting that you would say that.
There are no role models in Germany.
No cartoon characters like Mickey Mouse.
Something everyone identifies with,
everyone knows,
- even abroad.
- I can't think of anything just now.
- Fix and Foxi are German, aren't they?
- Yes, but nobody knows them.
The only really
famous German character is
Adolf Hitler
Dot, dot, comma, dash, Hitler moustache,
and instant recognition
- the world over.
- Interesting theory.
Yeah, but there's another problem:
the German flag.
- God, yes. It is so incredibly ugly.
- Gruesome!
An aesthetic catastrophe.
Black and red is okay, but the yellow.
- Exactly. And I believe that's
intentional. - Ah?
Well, in the Third Reich,
everyone looked quite smart and sharp.
Talking about design here, of course.
The uniforms, for example,
they were extremely well cut.
And the flag wasn't too bad either.
- Don't know about that.
- No, no, he's right.
And for such a thing
to never happen again in Germany,
everything had to be made
super repulsive. Really ugly.
Nothing was supposed to look good
any longer. Not even the flag.
That's why nobody identifies
with this country.
Only with perfect German technologies:
with poison gas,
fast cars that are so safe that
you can survive a head-on collision
at 200 km an hour.
The gentrified houses with
glass elevators to transport people
to their roof maisonettes.
The recycling system that
transports our trash to Africa.
It is the very language
that is used in the research and
development departments of Mercedes.
Otis, Otis, Otis!
And this is why millions of Jews
were murdered in the first place.
Nobody talks about that any longer.
Nor God.
He too doesn't exist any more.
I wish there were a God.
Come here!
I'm sorry.
Is that you?
Tom, now stop it. Say something.
Tom, please don't scare me.
Are you in there?
Oh my God!
Please don't hurt me! Please!
It's me, Tom.
- This was what I was trying to tell you
the whole time. - No!
- I like putting this on sometimes.
- What do you mean? At home?
Yeah, and outside, with others.
- What?
- I hoped so much that would also...
I can't Tom, I just can't. Please stop.
- It's harmless. Just feel how soft
it is. - I don't want to touch it!
- Go away!
- It's really soft, completely harmless.
- It's harmless.
- Get out! I don't want to touch you.
Franziska, just feel it.
Franziska, I didn't mean to hurt you.
Calm down.
Don't touch me!
What are you doing?
Don't touch her.
Excuse me.
Did you say Sandberg
on the phone just now?
Do you know someone
called Maximilian Sandberg?
How come...?
That's our son.
You don't particularly like my son,
do you?
A spoiled brat.
Become a vegetarian, perhaps...
Graffiti instead of sports.
Or torch ATMs.
Go to California.
Apologize to someone.
Don't fall asleep with your eyes open.
Now I know.
Thank you.
I always thought of Nickel
as a decent guy.
He was a good teacher.
Didn't you ever ask yourself why
you only got As in his class?
Because I was good.
If you ask me,
you were always rather insolent.
Older men like that,
it drives them crazy.
I just can't believe it.
You have to believe it, though.
You don't have to be afraid anymore.
And Nickel... he's all alone now.
And you're not.
- Is this the room of Maria Sandberg?
- Yes.
Well, this used to be her room.
And who are you, if I may ask?
- I'm her son.
- Right.
I didn't know she had relatives.
this... used to be her room.
What do you mean, used to be?
It's a little awkward
that you don't know, but...
she's no longer with us.
Well... she'll be missed.
Perhaps you'd like to take her things,
if you're her son, I mean.
- What, Inga?
- Darling, I'm so sorry.
- I'm too late.
- I'm...
Too late.
My parents, how very touching.
Well, pap?
Everything is going to be okay, Dad.
You two are such a pair of bigots.
- You didn't give a shit about
the old hag. - Excuse me?
- Like you don't give a shit about me.
- Maximilian, go wait outside.
Have you ever hugged me?
Can you please leave?
I can't remember a single day
when you cooked something for me.
Others can say: this tastes like home,
and I have no fucking clue
- what home tastes like.
- Alright. Out.
You're a pathetic excuse for a mother.
Hi, Claude.
Wouldn't it be much better,
if there were no people on the planet?