Mother Night (1996) Movie Script
MOTHER NIGH "Police"
"Haifa, Israel 1961"
Do you prefer German or English?
English.
You are to write down your memoirs | for the Haifa Institute...
for the documentation | of war criminals.
You have three weeks to complete | your memoirs before your trial begins.
Do you have any questions?
No. This is great. | Thanks for everything.
"Jews, Negroes... | Mongrel"
You are the only man I know who has | a bad conscience about the war.
Who is this?
Bernard Liebman.
I have guard duty | from 2:00 till 10:00.
Oh. I see.
Everyone else on either side...
is convinced he couldn't have acted | in any other way.
How do you know I have | a bad conscience?
The way you talk | in your sleep.
I can tell something | is troubling you.
What do you imagine | is troubling me, Bernard Liebman?
All I heard were | a couple of names.
"Helga" was one.
"Hoess" was the other one.
I knew Hoess.
He had no trouble sleeping.
Slept like a baby | right up to the end.
You know this?
I guess so.
I helped hang him.
- With your testimony? | - No.
With my hands.
Did that give you | lots of satisfaction?
My job was to strap his ankles.
I did a very good job.
I see.
Afterwards, I packed my bags | to go home.
The catch on my suitcase | was broken...
so I buckled it shut | with a big leather strap.
Twice, within one hour...
I did the very same job.
Once to Hoess...
once to my suitcase.
Both jobs felt about the same.
Yeah.
I, Howard W. Campbell, Jr., | am an American by birth...
a Nazi by reputation...
and a nationless person | by inclination.
I am awaiting a fair trial for | my war crimes by the state of Israel.
I was born in Schenectady, New York, | on February 16, 1904.
My father was raised | in Tennessee...
the son of a Baptist minister.
He was a service engineer | for General Electric.
Because of his work...
most of his reading consisted | of tradejournals and technical books.
There were a few | notable exceptions.
Howard!
In 1919, when General Electric | relocated my father...
we left Schenectady | and moved to Berlin, Germany.
By 1938...
I had become a successful | playwright in the German language...
and I had married | the young, beautiful...
and famous German actress Helga Noth.
When my parents left Germany...
they asked me to return | to the United States with them.
I didn't.
"My dear, sweet Eva...
this is the only way...
I know how to make good...
the frightful wrong | which has befallen us.
It does not matter | what lies ahead...
for I have | a full life behind me...
all in those few, | sweet hours with you.
I once told you | that I would pledge my life...
for our nation of two...
and reside there...
even in death...
as surely as I reside in heaven...
when your arms are around me.
Soon it will be time | to keep that pledge...
and I rejoice to think...
that earthly distractions | will no longer intrude...
on my eternal devotion to you.
From this moment forward...
our nation of two...
is the only country...
I will know. "
As the insanity of the world | descended on us...
my Helga and I survived | by pledging our undying loyalty...
to the only nation | that made any sense to us.
It was called | das Reich der Zwei...
"the nation of two. "
It was only one month after my parents | returned to the United States...
three years before America | would enter the war...
when I first met | my blue fairy godmother.
I call him that because no one | believes he existed but me.
But he really does exist... | or at least he did...
on that Sunday afternoon | so long ago in Berlin.
Nice-lookin' men.
I suppose.
- Do you speak English? | - Yes.
Thank God.
I've been goin' crazy | tryin' to find someone to talk to.
Pardon me?
I'm sorry. You mind if I come over there | so we don't have to holler?
As you please.
"As you please. " That sounds like | somethin' an Englishman would say.
- You English, are ya? | - No, I'm American.
That a fact?
Any of my beeswax | what you do for a living?
- Writer. | - No kiddin'!
Well, there's a coincidence, | 'cause I was just sittin' over there...
wishin' I could write...
'cause I thought up | one hell of a story.
There's this American, see?
And he's been livin' in Germany so long | he's practically a German himself.
He writes plays in German, is married | to a beautiful German actress.
He knows a lot of big-shot Nazis | who like to hang around theater people.
Who are you?
Oh, wait a minute. | This gets better.
So this fella knows | there's a war comin'.
America's gonna be on one side, | Germany's gonna be on the other.
So this American, who's been nothin' | but polite to the Nazis so far...
decides to pretend | he's a Nazi himself...
and he stays on in Germany | once the war comes...
and gets to be | a very useful American spy.
I asked, "Who are you?"
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I got so carried away I just...
Here you go. | That's me.
"U.S. War Department | Wirtanen, Frank - Major"
So, Mr. Campbell, | what'd you think of my little story?
What did I think of it? | Oh, I don't think much of it.
I mean, it's highly implausible. | It's ridiculous.
Oh, that's okay, 'cause...
today isn't when you give me | your final answer, anyway.
Final answer?
If you imagine that I'm gonna go home | and think this over, you're mistaken.
I'm gonna sleep like a log.
I'm not a political man. | I'm just not.
I'm an artist.
If a war comes, it's just gonna | have to get along without me.
Well, I wish ya | all the luck in the world, Howard.
The worse this Nazi thing gets...
the less anyone's | gonna sleep like a log.
Well, I don't know. | Maybe. We'll see.
That's right. We'll see.
That's why I don't expect | your final answer today.
If you go through with this, | it'll be strictly on your own...
working your way up with the Nazis | as high as you can go.
To do this right, you'll have to commit | nothing less than high treason.
Even if you do live through the war | without being caught...
your government will never | acknowledge your role as an agent.
We couldn't afford | the security breach.
You come lookin' for a pardon...
they'll deny | they ever heard of ya.
You'd be left hung out to dry.
You make it sound so attractive.
Oh, I have a feeling I've made it | sound very attractive to you, Howard.
- I've seen your plays. | - Really?
And what did you learn from them?
You're obsessed with the notion | of pure hearts and heroism.
You love good, | and you hate evil...
and you'd sacrifice anything | in the name of romance.
I'll be in touch.
It was every playwright's | secret dream...
to create the most challenging role | I could imagine...
and then play the part myself.
Cue theme music.
"Three Years Later"
"Good afternoon, | ladies and gentlemen.
This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American...
speaking to you from Berlin, Germany, | the heart of the free world.
There is a fine article | in the current Reader's Digest...
entitled | 'There Are No Atheists in Foxholes. '
Well, today I would like | to expand on this theme a little...
and tell you that even though | this is a war inspired by the Jews...
a war that only | the Jews can profit from...
you will find there are | no Jews in foxholes either.
Every G.I. Joe knows... "
Every Sunday afternoon | wherever my voice could be heard...
people stopped whatever they were | doing just to hear what I'd say next.
Even Berlin's chief of police | and his family were devoted listeners...
and not just because | they were my in-laws.
"Now, to the American folks | at home...
I want you to think of all the Jews | living in your neighborhood. "
It took me only a couple of hours | to write each speech...
after which I'd hand it over to | the propaganda ministry for their notes.
Among those who examined it | was another Allied agent...
whose identity never was | revealed to me.
"Do they have more | or less gasoline?"
My speech would be returned | with all sorts of notations...
including those left | by my fellow spy.
"To these questions... "
These markings would dictate | certain vocal mannerisms...
pauses, emphases...
coughs, stumbles, | throat-clearings.
"Now let me ask you this:
Do you know of | a single Jewish family...
that has ever received | a telegram from Washington...
that begins...
'The secretary of war | expresses his deep regret...
that your son was killed | in defense of his country'?
Of course not.
No Jewish family would ever | receive such a telegram...
thanks to a personal guarantee | from the American dictator...
Franklin Delano Rosenfeld. "
It was in this manner that I broadcast | coded information out of Germany.
I don't know to this day | what information went out through me.
"Why do you take arms | against your German brothers?
You know that Germany's objectives | are the same as your own.
You must understand | that theJews...
can only thrive in a nation | which lives in slavery.
So, my brothers...
lay down your arms.
By fighting this war, you'll only | fortify the bank accounts...
of your political leaders | who blindly serve theirJewish masters.
This has been | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
Thank you for listening. | Heil Hitler. "
You are a murderer.
You are a coward.
You are all cowards!
You are murdering children!
You should rot in hell!
Damn you!
Howard just | instinctively understands...
the German ideal | of right and wrong...
the certain triumph | of good over evil...
and the redemptive power of romance.
Just promise me one thing:
You will not leave | the propaganda ministry...
and return | to playwrighting full-time.
Little chance of that, | Herr Goebbels.
I've always found it ironic | that the man...
who so eloquently communicates | our ideals to the masses...
should be born in America.
Well, it's not so ironic.
I consider myself a spiritual native | of my adopted fatherland.
Something i've always wondered, | Herr Campbell:
Do you ever miss America?
Sometimes. Of course I do.
But I could never be happy | with the Jews in charge of everything.
Jews. The Jews will be | taken care of in due time.
Our friend Hoess here is seeing to it | at a resort he's running in Auschwitz.
My wife and I live | for that day.
Is there a chance we might | meet Mrs. Campbell?
Yes. Of course, Herr Hoess.
I'll ask Helga to join us, | if you'll excuse me.
If that woman walked off a cliff, | I swear, Howard would follow her.
Time passed.
I never told my Helga | I was a spy.
To tell her would only | put her in danger...
and make her live | in constant fear.
So I hid my true self | from her...
knowing that politics had no place | in our nation of two.
I suppose the moral here is:
You must be careful | what you pretend to be...
because in the end | you are what you pretend to be.
History says | the war ended in 1945.
In fact, | it ended one year earlier.
My nation of two was | the loser...
insanity the victor.
There were no prisoners...
no survivors.
Why would the Germans | want to kill my Helga?
Sir...
I said enemy guns.
The Russians.
It was Russian fire.
Russian.
It was tragic timing, sir.
The Russians fired | on the Crimean camp...
where she was | entertaining troops.
Reich Marshal Goering will issue | an official commendation...
for Mrs. Campbell's bravery.
I am sure | she would be very proud.
Yes. Yes, of course.
Is there anything I can do for you, | Herr Campbell?
Please.
"Good afternoon, | ladies and gentlemen.
This is | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American...
speaking to you | from Berlin, Germany...
the heart of the free world.
As you know, | the Bolshevik hordes...
continue their barbaric | advance towards Berlin.
Let theJewish leaders who are | exalted by our temporary setbacks...
be warned that National Socialism | will never allow Germany...
to fall under the heels | of the black beast...
who terrorizes | our women and children.
As for my American brothers...
you are fools | if you believe your dictator...
Franklin Delano Rosenfeld, | is concerned with your welfare.
If you fail to heed | the warning of your Aryan brothers...
the fate that awaits you | is the fate you deserve.
German victory is certain, | for it is a moral victory.
The final blow will be | struck by Adolf Hitler.
This has been | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
You may not hear from me | for a while.
Thank you for listening. | Heil Hitler. "
- Howard. | - Herr Noth.
Interesting time | to visit your in-laws.
If you wish to stay a while, | perhaps you can help me...
greet the Russians | when they arrive.
I'm going to the front.
Right over that way.
An easy walk from here. | You can make it in a day...
picking buttercups as you go.
May I ask | where you're moving to?
I'm staying here.
My wife is at my brother's home | in Cologne. Resi will join her today.
- But why stay here? | - With the Russian army at my doorstep?
I'm still the chief of police.
I'll not have my people say | I fled with my tail between my legs.
Is there anything I can do?
Yes. | You can shoot Resi's dog.
It can't make the trip, | and I can't take care of it here...
so you can shoot it.
- Where is it? | - In the music room with Resi.
She knows it's to be shot. | You'll have no trouble with her.
All right.
You broke my heart | when you married my daughter.
I wanted a German soldier | for a son-in-law.
Yes. I know.
Because I hated you so much, | I studied you.
I listened to everything you said.
Never missed a broadcast.
Did you know that | until this very moment...
nothing would have | delighted me more...
than to prove you were a spy...
to see you shot?
Now I couldn't care less | if you are a spy.
- Do you know why? | - No.
Because now I know | that even if you were a spy...
you could never have served the enemy | as well as you served us.
All the ideals that make me | proud of being a Nazi...
they came not from Hitler...
not from Goebbels...
but from you.
You alone kept me from concluding | that Germany had gone insane.
Now, look how you've grown.
You are here to kill my dog...
aren't you?
Yes.
But, Resi, it's not something | I want to do very much.
That's all right.
I never liked it anyway.
I just felt sorry for it.
I'm going to the front. | I just came to say good-bye.
Which front?
The Russian.
You'll die, then?
Well, maybe not.
Everybody who isn't dead now | will be dead soon...
including me.
I'm sure you're going to be fine.
That's all right. | It won't hurt.
Suddenly I just | won't be anymore.
Since we'll all be dead soon, | I might as well tell you something.
What is it?
I love you.
Oh, Resi, | that's very sweet.
No. I mean I really love you.
When Helga was alive | and you two would come here...
sometimes I envied her, | and sometimes I hated her.
When she died, I dreamt | I would grow up and marry you...
and be a famous actress, | and you'd write plays for me.
I see.
I'm very honored.
That's all right. | It doesn't mean anything now.
Nothing means anything.
Go ahead and shoot the dog.
Resi was only half right.
From what I could gather, | she was dead before long...
but I went on living.
Had I actually traveled | to the Russian front...
surely I would have died | as Resi predicted.
Instead, I motorcycled around | the German countryside...
thinking I could simply | wait out the war.
My little respite ended | two months later...
when I was captured by Lieutenant | Bernard B. O'Hare, American 3rd Army.
I had said "good morning" | to him in passing...
and he recognized my voice | from the radio broadcasts.
O'Hare seemed to take all | the things I said rather personally.
After my capture, | the American army escorted me...
on a private tour | of the Nazi death camp at Oerdre.
They thought it would be | interesting to see my reaction...
to the fruits of my labor.
Take a good look | at your Kraut friends, Campbell...
'cause you're next.
To me, | they looked quite peaceful.
Two days later I was driven away | by two American soldiers.
I couldn't quite tell | if they knew who I was.
Well, Howard...
what did you think of that war?
Is that you, Wirtanen?
I got to hand it to you... | you lived through it.
- A lot of people didn't, you know. | - Yes.
Yes, I know.
I know. My wife. | My wife, for instance.
Yeah. Sorry about that. I found out | about that a few days before you did.
You found out about it before me? | How did you find that out?
That was one of the pieces | of information you broadcast that week.
I broadcast that...
that my wife had died?
I didn't even know it? | You knew she was dead and I didn't?
I would have liked | to have mourned.
Well, what happens to me now?
You've already disappeared.
The 3rd Army's been relieved of ya. | There's no records to show your capture.
So, Howard, | where do you want to go from here?
Oh, I don't know.
I don't suppose there's a hero's | welcome waiting for me anywhere.
Hardly.
We can't exactly start bragging | about all the clever tricks we pulled.
We might need them again | for the next war.
No, your role | will remain classified...
and Uncle Sam's official position is | that you're the scum of the earth.
Scum of the earth, huh?
What about my parents?
I'm sorry, Howard. | They both died about six months ago.
Both?
Father first, and your mother | two days later. Heart both times.
Did anyone tell them | what I was really doing?
Come on, Howard. | What were we supposed to do?
Sacrifice our radio station | in the heart of Berlin...
for the peace of mind | of two old people?
Oh, no, no. We wouldn't want that! | How many people knew what I was doing?
- There were three of us. | - Just three?
- It's probably too many. | - Three people knew me for what I was?
Everyone else knew you | for what you were, too.
Wait. How can you say that? | You think I'm a Nazi? I wasn't a Nazi.
Well, let me ask you | something, Howard:
What would you have done | if Germany had won the war?
Marched right up to your pal | Goebbels and surrendered?
Told him you were actually | a patriotic American spy?
Yes, I might have marched in there! | I might have escaped. I don't know.
Oh, all right. | You want me to be a Nazi?
You go ahead. | Classify me as a Nazi.
You want to hang me? Go ahead | if you think it'll raise morale.
I don't consider this life | any great treasure.
Well, I just want you to know | how little we can really do for you.
How little?
False identity, some cash, | transportation to a new place...
Anywhere you'd like to go, Howard? | How 'bout New York?
You can lose yourself pretty easily. | Plenty of work if you want it.
All right. | New York then.
Of the three that knew | I was a spy, who were the other two?
The second was | General Donovan of the O.S. S...
and the third, | I'm sorry to say, is dead.
You used to attack him | every night on your broadcast.
You called him | Franklin Delano Rosenfeld.
He got a big kick out of that. | He used to listen to you every night.
"Life"
"New York City | 1960"
At first I lived | under a false name.
The idea was to start | from scratch, lead a new life.
After a while, though, it became clear | that I really had no life...
so the alias became unnecessary...
and I went back | to using my own name.
No one ever asked whether I was | the Howard W. Campbell, Jr.
All of my belongings, | like myself, were war surplus...
coming from recreation kits | intended for troops overseas.
They even included | phonograph records...
so I became the proud owner of 26 copies | of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas. "
"Property of U.S. Gov't"
I survived my purgatory | in New York...
the same way I survived | the hell of wartime Germany...
I let my emotions be stirred | by only one thing...
my love for Helga.
It remained the permanent axis | about which my thoughts revolved.
To you, my love...
to your beauty | and to my undying devotion.
To das Reich der Zwei...
nation of two.
It's very nice, isn't it?
It's very dry.
Just the way you like it, hmm?
Yes.
- Dr. Epstein? | - Yes.
I'm your neighbor from upstairs.
I've cut myself.
Well, you won't need stitches.
The blood often makes these things | look worse than they really are.
Well, thank you, Doctor. | I'm very grateful.
No problem.
I'm only sorry it took this | to provide an introduction.
Yes, yes. | No, you're right.
That's a very famous name | you have.
Pardon me?
You never heard of | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
broadcasting from Berlin?
From Berlin...
Yes, I do remember now.
It was a long time ago.
I never listened to him, | but I remember he was in the news.
Those things fade.
Those things should fade.
That insane moment in history | should be forgotten.
You know of Auschwitz?
Yes, yes, of course | I know of Auschwitz.
That is where I spent | my young womanhood...
and my son the doctor here...
he spent his childhood.
- Oh, well, I'm sorry. | - Forget Auschwitz.
It doesn't do any good.
There.
No need for amputation.
- Just keep it dry for a few days. | - Well, thank you.
No problem. | I'll see you out.
What? Pardon me?
I asked if you spoke German.
Oh. No, no, no. | I'm afraid not.
Good-bye. | That's "good-bye," isn't it?
It's "till we meet again. "
Oh. Till we meet again.
Well, auf Wiedersehen.
Yes.
Yes?
Campbell, it's Adolph Eichmann.
I'm in the cell above you.
Yes, Eichmann. Hello.
You're always typing in there...
day and night | and night and day...
typing, typing, typing...
Is it bothering you?
No. I'm a heavy sleeper.
I'm only curious. | Are you preparing your memoir?
Yes. A command performance | for the Haifa Institute.
You're a lucky man.
I'm lucky?
How do you consider me lucky?
You can type. | I'm writing mine longhand.
One day I got the idea that a hobby | might help pass the time in purgatory.
Ironically...
in my solitude | I had created something...
that could only be used in concert | with another human being.
Yeah.
George Kraft?
Who is it?
I'm Howard Campbell, | your neighbor from upstairs.
What do you want?
I want to know if you play chess.
I didn't know I had a painter | living under me.
Where do you show your work?
I don't show my work.
Well, you should.
You been painting all your life?
No, not really.
My wife died four years ago...
and I had the choice of either...
coming to Greenwich Village to be | a painter or blowing my brains out...
so I flipped a coin, and here I am.
At least you had painting | you could turn to.
What does that mean? | You mean you lost your wife too?
Yeah. I see you in the hallway | and I say, "yes...
this man too | is a member of the brotherhood. "
- The brotherhood? | - Brotherhood of the walking wounded.
World's largest organization, and you | don't know it exists until you're in it.
You become a member when you lose | the one thing that gives life meaning.
And the thing that bonds you together, | that holds the group in one piece...
is the fact that the members | are absolutely incapable...
of speaking to one another.
Sorry. | I don't mean to rattle on.
How'd you lose your wife?
I can't speak about it.
Well, of course | you can't speak about it.
You're a member | of the brotherhood.
The day came | that I told him everything.
It all spilled out of me...
You know, I knew the war was over, | and Germany was going to lose...
and here I was an American spy.
My parents, | my boyhood in Germany...
about Helga | and our nation of two...
my blue fairy godmother, | the speeches, the code...
my capture | and my banishment to purgatory.
I didn't have anything to live for. | I lost my wife, I lost my nation of two.
George Kraft, my only living friend, | took it all in stride.
Yeah, but why doesn't | the government come forward and say...
"This man you're spitting on | is a hero"?
George, nobody spits on me.
Nobody even knows I'm alive.
Life continued unchanged...
for a while.
"The White Christian Minuteman | Supreme Court Demands U.S. Be Mongrel"
"An American Tragedy!"
Howard W. Campbell, Jr., a great writer | and fearless American patriot...
now lives in poverty and in loneliness | in a one-bedroom apartment...
at 61 Bethune Street | in New York City.
Such is the fate of thinking men | brave enough to tell the truth...
about the conspiracy of international | Jewish bankers and communists...
who won't rest until the body of every | American is hopelessly polluted...
with Negro and/ or Oriental blood. "
Maybe it was that lady downstairs... | Epstein's mother.
Why wouldn't she just | call the authorities?
Why would she send my address | to some racist newsletter?
Why don't you set the record straight? | It's time you wrote again anyway.
I'm afraid dead men don't | write very well.
That's not true. | All the best writers are dead.
That's the most truthful thing | you've said today.
Listen to me. | It's because while you're dead...
you have nothing to lose, | you can be completely courageous.
Find yourself a woman, | start writing again.
- A woman? | - A woman.
George, you better stop drinking. | My portrait's gonna look like a Picasso.
- Don't change the subject. | - I'm not changing the subject.
- Sit up. | - I am sitting up.
All right, I tell you what. | You get a woman, then I'll get one.
I don't need a woman. | I'm on fire for my muse.
You, however... | you're a mortal.
You need a woman.
- I already got one. | - No, you don't.
- Yes, I do. | - Had a woman.
- Past tense. She's dead. | - I don't wanna talk about this.
I'm only telling | you what you need to hear.
- If you're gonna speak the truth... | - Oh, God, did I hit a nerve?
- No, you didn't hit a nerve. I'm fine. | - I am so sorry.
No, don't be sorry. | Don't be humble, George.
- I'm abject. I feel really... | - No, you're not abject.
- Go ahead, talk. I can't hear you. | - God, I just...
I just shoot my mouth off, | and I...
I don't know... | I'm gonna...
One, two, three, rest.
One, two, three, four.
- Who is it? | - Howard W. Campbell, Jr.?
Who is it?
It's the Reverend Dr. Lionel Jones...
D.D.S., D.D.
I presume you received | our complimentary issue...
of the White Christian Minuteman.
It's all right, Howard. | I'm with friends.
Howard W. Campbell.
What an honor.
I feel as if my whole life | was leading up to this moment.
How do you do?
Please, allow me to introduce you | to my bodyguard...
August Krapptauer.
Vice Bundesfuehrer Emeritus | at the German-American Bund.
A great, great pleasure, | Mr. Campbell.
And my secretary, | Father Patrick Keeley...
former chaplain | of the Detroit Gun Club.
Words fail me, Herr Campbell.
Likewise, I'm sure.
- Could we get some water? | - Yeah, of course, of course.
The climb up your stairs was | quite an effort for our Mr. Krapptauer.
Might we bother you | for a glass of water?
All right. Come on in.
This is my good friend | and neighbor, George Kraft.
How do you do?
- Yours? | - Yes.
What a marvelous likeness | of our Mr. Campbell.
You've done a masterful job | capturing the jaw line.
Have you a background | in dentistry?
Dentistry? No.
Well, as one who's devoted his life | to dental medicine...
allow me to say that you have | perfectly duplicated...
Mr. Campbell's Aryan jaw line.
- Oh, I'm thrilled that you noticed. | - How could I miss it?
Are you familiar with my book, | Christ Was Not a Jew?
I could never find a copy.
Oh, that's too bad.
Father Keeley, make a note | that we must send Mr. Kraft...
an autographed copy.
In it, I reproduce | 50 famous paintings of Christ...
and point out that not one of them | shows Jewish jaws or teeth.
- I don't know what to say. | - Well...
I had to publish the book myself.
But what can you expect when | the publishing industry is run by Jews?
Oh, of course, forgive me.
I've been talking so much, | I almost forgot what brought us here.
What does bring you here, Jones?
A surprise for you, Mr. Campbell, | waiting downstairs.
Why don't you just tell me | what this is about?
Forgive me, Mr. Campbell...
but I have promised | not to spoil the surprise.
Now, I give my word... | if you're displeased...
we'll take it away with us | and leave you in peace.
- Where is it? | - At the bottom of the stairwell.
You can't miss it.
All right.
- Want me to go with you? | - No.
I'll be right back.
There is no room | in your life for me.
I will say good-bye...
and I will never bother you again.
No room in my life?
My life is nothing | but room for you.
God, you're alive. | How can it be?
Oh, look at you. | You haven't changed.
- I have so much to tell. | - Yes.
I always knew you'd come back. | I always knew that.
I just didn't know when or how.
There's somebody I want you to meet. | I want you to meet George Kraft.
- This is Helga. | - Hello. Welcome.
I presume you weren't disappointed.
How did you do this? | How did you bring my wife back to me?
A subscriber in West Germany | wired me...
that Mrs. Campbell had just arrived | as a refugee.
One day I learn that you're alive...
a month later | that your wife is alive.
Now, what can I call a coincident | like that but the hand of God?
Why don't we let Mr. And Mrs. Campbell | have a few minutes alone now?
Yes, of course. Our chauffeur will | bring up Mrs. Campbell's bags.
No need, no need.
- You fool, what are you doing? | - I'm fine, perfectly fine.
You're risking your life, | exerting yourself like that.
It's an honor to risk my life | for a man who served Adolph Hitler...
as well as Howard W. Campbell, Jr.
He's gone.
Maybe I should call an ambulance. | Yes.
That's terrible, just terrible.
Poor, dear August.
Who's going to carry | the torch now?
Excuse me? | Everything all right up here?
No, as a matter of fact. | August just died.
Oh, no. That's a shame.
- Now, that's a real shame. | - Mr. Campbell...
Robert Sterling Wilson, | the black fuehrer of Harlem.
I heard about you, | but I never listened to you.
- That's all right. | - We was on different sides.
See, I was on the side with the colored | folks. I was with the Japanese.
I hear you say you didn't think | colored folks was so good.
Now, Robert, let's not squabble | amongst ourselves.
Let's all work to pull together.
Now I'm just telling him like I tell you | and the reverend every morning.
Colored people gonna have | a hydrogen bomb all their own...
and pretty soon they gonna give Japan | the honor of dropping the first one.
Where?
China, I guess.
On other colored people?
Now whoever told you | a Chinaman was colored?
Mutter, Vatter und Resi...
are all dead.
Yeah. Yes, I know.
But I... I am alive.
How?
Well, I...
It's all right. | It doesn't matter.
Our life starts tonight.
We'll check into a hotel.
Tomorrow we'll find | a new place to live.
I've found an old store | that has our bed in it.
Do you remember our old bed?
- Yeah. | - Ja.
We'll start again | right where we left off.
Nation of two.
- Us. | - That's right.
Yeah.
But...
we do not have to | check in to a hotel.
It's been so long.
I'm no longer a young man.
She had been captured and raped | in the Crimea...
and then shipped to the Ukraine | and put to work on a labor gang.
Nobody told her the war was over.
After her repatriation, she was sent | to Dresden, East Germany...
and put to work | in a cigarette factory.
Eventually, | she escaped to West Berlin...
and days later, | she was flying back to my embrace.
All that mattered now was that | our nation of two was whole again.
- Hello. | - Hello.
Welcome home.
Now here... | Here it is right here.
Excuse us. Here.
Helga, right here. | Here's the bed.
It's locked. Veterans Day. | It's Veterans Day. Damn it.
Oh, goddamn it!
Howard, you have changed.
Forgive me, I'm sorry.
Yes, I've changed, but people should | be changed by world wars.
Otherwise, what are world wars for?
Maybe you have changed so much | that you do not love me anymore.
How could you say that | after last night, huh?
We really have not talked | anything over.
But, Helga, what is there | to talk about?
No words could change | the way I feel.
Do you mean it?
Yes, of course I mean it.
Nothing I could say | could spoil it.
Nothing you could ever say | could spoil it.
Never, never.
I'm not Helga.
I'm Resi...
her little sister.
What?
You said you loved me.
- How could you do this to me? | - I love you.
You love me? How could you love me? | You don't even know who I am.
When I got to West Berlin...
they gave me papers | to fill out...
name, occupation, | nearest living relative.
I had a choice. | I could stay Resi Noth...
secret machine operator | with no family anywhere...
or I could be Helga Noth...
famous actress and wife | of a brilliant, handsome playwright...
living in America.
A man I love deeply.
Who should I have been?
Howard, for ten years | in that factory...
the only things that kept me alive | were daydreams of being my sister Helga.
So Resi disappeared.
I don't know what to say.
You picked a hell of a person to be.
That is who I am.
I am Helga.
You believed it.
Was I or was I not Helga | to you last night?
That's a hell of a question | to ask a gentleman.
Am I entitled to an answer?
Would you sometime | write a play for me?
I don't think I can write anymore.
Did Helga inspire you to write?
Not to write, | but to write the way I wrote.
We used to say that | I wrote parts for her...
that let her play | the quintessence of Helga.
I want you to do that | for me one day.
The q...
- The quintes... | - Quintessence.
The quintessence of Resi.
Maybe I will.
Resi was growing younger | by the second.
Although she had bleached her hair white | to appear older...
it now spoke to me of peroxide...
and girls who run away to Hollywood.
Finally, I have a home.
It takes a heap of living | to make a house a home.
- Who did that? | - Who did what?
That.
Howard Campbell?
You know him?
It's funny... | You look just like him.
Don't that look | like the gentleman you're with?
Let me see.
"Israel Locates | War Criminal in U.S."
Before the Jews put you in the zoo, | I'm gonna have some fun with you myself.
You felt that one, huh? | That was for Private Irvin Buchanan.
- Is that you? | - No, he was my best friend.
Five miles in from Omaha Beach, | the Germans, they cut his nuts off...
and they hung him | from a telephone pole.
And this... this is for Axel Brewer.
He got run over | by a tiger tank in Aachen.
- This is for Eddie McCarty. | - Please!
He got cut in half | by a schmeizer.
And this... this is for...
Do not speak, liebling.
- Where are we? | - We are safe.
You have been asleep. | They will not find us here.
- Who won't find us here? | - The Jews, sweetheart.
What's on my chest?
You had your ribs taped up.
By whom?
The doctor who lives | in your building.
- Epstein. | - Ja, that was him. He was very nice.
I used his phone to call Dr. Jones, | and he brought us here.
How nice to have friends.
Ja, come in.
- How's he doing? | - He has just woken up.
How's your head?
Splitting.
- You ought to take an aspirin. | - Thanks for the advice.
You see, most things in this world | don't work, but aspirin do.
Resi, the newspapers...
Is it true the Israelis | want to put me on trial?
Dr. Jones says the American government | will not let you go...
but the Jews will send men | to kidnap you...
like they did Herr Eichmann.
It ain't like having a Jew here, | a Jew there after you.
They got everything after you | but the Jewish hydrogen bomb.
What the hell is that?
That was your friend.
- Jones? | - No, George Kraft.
What's George doing here?
He is coming with us. | We are all leaving the country.
Dr. Jones has made | the arrangements.
Howard! Look who's up and around. | How do you feel?
I'd stand a better chance if it weren't | for the racket you're making.
Sorry, just killing a little time. | God, you scared me half to death.
I was worried sick about you.
You know, it was bound to happen | sooner or later.
Well, it's all for the best. | You'll see.
You'll have a new identity, | get a new place, new country...
be able to start writing again.
I might even be a better painter | in Mexico.
- Mexico? | - Well, look who's back on his feet.
Well, I guess you can't keep | a good man down.
That's the spirit. | Howard...
Wednesday night is | the weekly meeting...
of the Iron Guard of the White Sons | of the American Constitution.
Father Keeley and I want to stage a | memorial service for August Krapptauer.
We thought that perhaps you, | being Krapptauer's mentor...
might say a few words.
I've thought of a general theme, | if that helps.
I'm sure I could use one.
I think the theme should be...
"His Truth Goes Marching On. "
What could I possibly say | to a bunch of junior storm troopers?
I knew their fearless leader | for all of 20 seconds...
before he dropped dead | on my stairway.
You'll find the right words.
You always do.
When we get to Mexico...
I'm going to write again.
Did I have something to do | with this miracle?
Mm-hmm, everything.
Very little, but some.
Yes.
The real miracle...
is the talent you were born with.
The real miracle is your ability | to raise the dead.
- The love does that. | - Yes.
It raised me too.
Today, the mayor admitted | his embarrassment...
that a notorious war criminal | had been living an anonymous life...
in New York | for at least some of that time.
He also noted that neither he | nor the United States government...
have any authority to hand Campbell over | to the Israeli government for trial.
However, it all may be a moot point.
Howard W. Campbell has, | once again, escaped without a trace.
This is Campbell's | last known residence.
The modest apartment in Greenwich | Village has been vandalized...
by locals angered by Campbell's | latest escape from justice.
The United States government | has promised to make a full review...
of Campbell's citizenship status...
and to find out why he was never | brought to trial previously.
In the meantime, Israel has stepped up | its demands for Campbell...
encouraged by the idea that he may not | be a citizen of the U. S...
that he may, in fact, | be a citizen of nowhere at all.
We must never forget that a propagandist | of Campbell's sort... "Israeli Vice-Consul"
is every bit as much of a mass murderer | as Eichmann, Himmler and even Hitler.
How many millions of people | lost their lives...
because of the lies he spread | during the war?
We will find Campbell, | just as we found Eichmann.
A man can't hide forever | when his hands are covered...
with the blood | of six million human beings.
"Work Makes You Free" | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
wanted to be here tonight...
to tell you of his long and fulfilling | association with your fallen hero.
But he's asked me to make this | brief statement to you...
on his behalf.
The truth of your leader, | August Krapptauer, and those like him...
will be with mankind forever...
as long as there are men and women | who listen to their guts...
instead of their minds.
And now for a special treat.
A subscriber to the | White Christian Minuteman in Vermont...
has made us a loan | of some very rare material...
which I'm sure you'll find | most inspiring.
Robert?
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. | This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
Tonight, I would like to ask | a common question:
Why are we enemies of theJew?
The answer is simple.
TheJew is the cause | and the beneficiary of our slavery.
He has made two halves | of the fatherland.
TheJew has no interest in the solution | of Germany's problems.
He can't. | He wants them to remain unsolved.
You see, he has a better trump in | his hand if a nation lives in slavery...
than one that is free.
TheJew is the cause | of our misery...
and today he lives on our trust.
And that is why, | as National Socialists...
we are enemies of theJew.
He has ruined our race, | rotted our morals...
corrupted our traditions | and broken our power.
As long as we are true | to our Aryan heritage...
he is a leper among us.
If we ignore our destiny, he will | triumph over us and our future.
TheJew is the plastic demon | of the fall of mankind.
He thrives in filth and garbage, | and he spreads disease.
He steals our possessions | and lusts after our women.
He pretends to be afraid | of this victim...
and before the unfortunate one knows it, | his neck is broken.
We areJew-haters | because we are proud to be Aryans.
It isn't true that we eat a Jew | with every breakfast.
But it is true that theJew | is slowly eating away at our future.
That is going to change | as surely as we are Aryans...
as surely as world supremacy...
is the birthright | of the Aryan race.
"Leave Thru Coal Bin Door. Cross Alley #645. Life | In Danger!" This has been Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
Thank you for listening.
Heil Hitler.
I gotta admit, Howard, act three | had me on the edge of my seat.
My blue fairy godmother.
I was beginning to wonder | if you really existed.
I exist all right. | I'm just retired. Eight years now.
Imagine my surprise when they called me | out of retirement two months ago.
- For me? | - Yeah.
- Why all this sudden interest in me? | - That's what I'm supposed to find out.
Well, it's no mystery | why the Israelis wouldn't want me.
No, the mystery is why the Russians | should think you're such a fat prize.
The Russians? | What Russians?
Well, at least two in this country.
One is your friend, | Colonel lona Potipov.
- Potipov? | - Sorry, you know him as George Kraft.
He's been operating in the U.S. | As a Russian spy since '35.
George Kraft's not a spy.
- I mean, George told me about his wife. | - His wife?
In Indianapolis who died four years ago? | No such person.
He's got a wife, all right, | still living in Proscurov.
He just hasn't seen her for 25 years.
I don't imagine he's mentioned the three | children or nine grandchildren.
- Kraft, he was... | - Potipov.
Whatever. He was living | in the building for three years.
I mean, he didn't | introduce himself to me.
I went downstairs. | I introduced myself to him.
From what I can tell, you weren't part | of his original agenda.
Just sort of an unexpected perk.
Everything was nice and quiet | until he sent an anonymous letter...
to your protege, Dr. Jones, | telling him where you were.
Then the excrement | really hit the air-conditioning.
It was Kraft.
If it makes you feel any better, | he really is a painter.
I don't think much of his work, | but what do I know about art?
Maybe it's okay. Maybe that's | the one thing you can't fake.
Maybe you're the exception | to that too.
What was Kraft's plan for me?
Well, when he tipped off Jones...
he knew you'd become news again.
He figured he could get you out of the | country easier and stay by your side.
And you could be kidnapped | with fewer international complications.
I see. I see.
Well...
you said there was two Russian spies.
Who's the other? | Jones?
Nah, Jones is | the one true friend you got.
Seems he's the only one | with your best interest at heart.
Who's the other one?
No, not Resi.
No, goddamn you! | Not Resi!
Relax, Howard, | I'm only the messenger.
You're a goddamn liar.
I'm sure she had you thinking about your | new life and how nice it would be...
but it wouldn't have gone that way.
When you got to the airport in Mexico | City, there'd be a second plane...
and off you'd go on a one-way trip | to Moscow, all expenses paid.
What could the Russians | possibly want...
with such a burned-out piece | of World War II surplus?
They can exhibit you | as a prime example...
of the fascist war criminals | that this country shelters.
They also hope you'll confess | to all sorts of collusion...
between the Nazis and Americans | before and after the war.
I think that's our echo.
You've been typing | for almost 15 hours straight.
Me, I've barely written | five pages in as many days.
When do you eat?
I don't know.
I hear your trial starts | in a couple of days.
Where's your lawyer?
He's trying to find the one person | who'll corroborate my defense.
So far I'm told he | doesn't exist.
Listen, Campbell, | can I give you some advice?
Certainly.
Spend some time | in the exercise yard...
or have them bring in | a radio or television.
You've got to learn to relax.
It is important to learn | how to relax.
That's how I got here!
Hey, Eichmann, can I ask you | a personal question?
Certainly.
Do you believe you're guilty | of murdering six million Jews?
Absolutely not.
Oh, you were simply a soldier, | were you?
Taking orders from higher-ups, | is that right, Eichmann...
like any good soldier?
- Campbell? | - Yes.
- About those six million... | - Yes?
I don't need credit for all of them.
I'm sure I could spare you a few.
- Where were you? | - We were worried about you, old boy.
- You are cold. | - I just stepped outside for some air.
- That was a bit of a risk, wasn't it? | - Yeah, it was a bit of a risk...
but you know what Jones says: | "I'll sacrifice anything for the truth. "
This is torture having to stay | in this cramped room...
for the fear of our lives.
How can people treat us like this?
Oh, I don't know, Resi.
You know, in spite of everything...
I still believe people | are really good at heart.
You know?
Tomorrow we will start our new lives, | and then you will be able to relax.
Oh, yes, to relax.
- You know, I was thinking... | - What? Tell me.
I was thinking that maybe Mexico | isn't what we want.
We can just go on from there.
Maybe right at the Mexico City airport, | we could just get right on another jet.
Onto...
I don't know. | We could go to the Caribbean.
- We could go to Moscow maybe. | - Moscow?
That's a novel idea.
- You don't like it? | - I would have to think about it.
I want you | to think about it, too, okay?
- Yeah, if you want. | - Yeah.
You know, | the more I think about it...
the better it sounds.
What can you possibly | find interesting about Moscow?
Well, I don't know. | I'd like to visit an old friend.
You never told me | you had a friend in Moscow.
Gee, George, I guess it just | never came up in a conversation.
What's his name?
Colonel lona Potipov.
- Don't know him. | - Don't know him, huh?
It doesn't matter. He's just a spy | trying to get me to Mexico City...
so I can be kidnapped | and flown to Russia to stand trial.
- That is not... | - Don't even think about it.
God, Howard, this is ridiculous.
Cowboys and Indians.
Yeah, all right, George.
Howard, this is not who I am. | This is the way things are.
Nobody should know that | better than you.
- Yeah. Yeah. | - Sweetheart.
That dream about Mexico... | it was really true.
Tomorrow we were all | going to escape.
It was our mission | to get to Moscow...
but then I was not going | to go through with it...
because I love you.
I told you I was not gonna go through | with it, did I not?
Yes, you did. | She told me.
And he agreed with me. He came up | with the dream of Mexico...
where we would all get out | of this trap together.
- How did you find out? | - American agents.
They'll be raiding our | happy little home any minute now.
That's unfortunate.
Then we must leave right now, liebling, | while we still can.
It's too late, darling. | We're already surrounded.
- Then we will fight them. | - Resi, you don't understand.
I said, we are surrounded.
Does that matter?
Yes, of course that matters. We...
You mean, | why don't I die for love...
like a hero | in a Howard W. Campbell play?
Yeah.
Ja, that is exactly | what I mean.
Let us die together... | here and now.
You have a full life ahead of you.
I have a full life behind me.
All in those few sweet hours | with you.
Sounds like a line | I might have written as a young man.
It is a line you wrote | as a young man.
A foolish young man.
I adore that man.
I'm sorry, I can't congratulate you | on your taste in men.
You no longer...
you no longer believe | that love is the only thing to live for?
Well, no.
Then tell me what to live for.
Tell me anything. | It does not have to be love.
Anything at all! | I will live for that chair...
or that picture on the wall | or that crack over there!
Just tell me. | Tell me what you live for...
and I will live for that too!
Resi, what I live for is...
I'm an old man.
I will show you what to live for.
I will show you a woman | who dies for love.
No, Resi. | No, no, my God.
Don't move a muscle.
The morning after the raid | on Jones's basement...
I was released...
thanks, I suppose, | to my blue fairy godmother.
I was deposited | onto the streets of New York...
restored to the mainstream of life.
I took several steps | down the sidewalk...
when something happened.
It was not guilt that froze me.
I had taught myself | never to feel guilt.
It wasn't the fear of death.
I had taught myself | to think of death as a friend.
It was not the thought | of being unloved that froze me.
I had taught myself | to do without love.
What froze me was the fact | that I had absolutely no reason...
to move in any direction.
Are you all right?
Yes.
Been standing there a long time.
Waiting for somebody?
You lost?
Better move on then, | don't you think?
Yeah.
"Nazi Pig"
"Keep Out"
"Let's Finish The Job!"
Who is it?
- It's Howard Campbell. | - What do you want?
Could I come in?
You're going to have to tell me | what this is about.
I want to go to Israel | to stand trial.
What?
I want to be tried | for my crimes against humanity.
What do you want from me?
I want to surrender | to an Auschwitzer.
Then find one who thinks | of Auschwitz all the time.
And don't speak Yiddish! | We are in America now!
If you can't remember, | I will remember for both of us.
- You still want revenge, is that it? | - Yes.
Then go on with your plan | because it proves nothing.
Mr. Campbell, | I think I can help you.
Thank you.
Yes.
"Translation: 'Corpse carriers | to the guardhouse. "'
"Tomorrow"
"My Trial"
"Begins"
"Dear Howard...
The discipline of a lifetime now | collapses like the walls ofJericho.
What is the tune | that Joshua's trumpet plays?
Is that the music of my conscience? | I doubt it. I've done you no wrong.
I think the music must be an old | soldier's itch for a little treason.
And treason this letter is.
I hereby violate | my direct and explicit orders...
and identify myself as the man | you knew as Frank Wirtanen. "
I affirm and will affirm | under oath...
that I recruited you | as an American agent...
and that you, | at great personal sacrifice...
became one of the most effective | agents of the Second World War.
If there must be a trial | of Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
let it be one hell of a contest...
and may justice be served.
Yours truly, Frank.
May justice be served.
I like the sound of that.
They say that a hanging man | hears glorious music.
I wonder what it sounds like.
"Haifa, Israel 1961"
Do you prefer German or English?
English.
You are to write down your memoirs | for the Haifa Institute...
for the documentation | of war criminals.
You have three weeks to complete | your memoirs before your trial begins.
Do you have any questions?
No. This is great. | Thanks for everything.
"Jews, Negroes... | Mongrel"
You are the only man I know who has | a bad conscience about the war.
Who is this?
Bernard Liebman.
I have guard duty | from 2:00 till 10:00.
Oh. I see.
Everyone else on either side...
is convinced he couldn't have acted | in any other way.
How do you know I have | a bad conscience?
The way you talk | in your sleep.
I can tell something | is troubling you.
What do you imagine | is troubling me, Bernard Liebman?
All I heard were | a couple of names.
"Helga" was one.
"Hoess" was the other one.
I knew Hoess.
He had no trouble sleeping.
Slept like a baby | right up to the end.
You know this?
I guess so.
I helped hang him.
- With your testimony? | - No.
With my hands.
Did that give you | lots of satisfaction?
My job was to strap his ankles.
I did a very good job.
I see.
Afterwards, I packed my bags | to go home.
The catch on my suitcase | was broken...
so I buckled it shut | with a big leather strap.
Twice, within one hour...
I did the very same job.
Once to Hoess...
once to my suitcase.
Both jobs felt about the same.
Yeah.
I, Howard W. Campbell, Jr., | am an American by birth...
a Nazi by reputation...
and a nationless person | by inclination.
I am awaiting a fair trial for | my war crimes by the state of Israel.
I was born in Schenectady, New York, | on February 16, 1904.
My father was raised | in Tennessee...
the son of a Baptist minister.
He was a service engineer | for General Electric.
Because of his work...
most of his reading consisted | of tradejournals and technical books.
There were a few | notable exceptions.
Howard!
In 1919, when General Electric | relocated my father...
we left Schenectady | and moved to Berlin, Germany.
By 1938...
I had become a successful | playwright in the German language...
and I had married | the young, beautiful...
and famous German actress Helga Noth.
When my parents left Germany...
they asked me to return | to the United States with them.
I didn't.
"My dear, sweet Eva...
this is the only way...
I know how to make good...
the frightful wrong | which has befallen us.
It does not matter | what lies ahead...
for I have | a full life behind me...
all in those few, | sweet hours with you.
I once told you | that I would pledge my life...
for our nation of two...
and reside there...
even in death...
as surely as I reside in heaven...
when your arms are around me.
Soon it will be time | to keep that pledge...
and I rejoice to think...
that earthly distractions | will no longer intrude...
on my eternal devotion to you.
From this moment forward...
our nation of two...
is the only country...
I will know. "
As the insanity of the world | descended on us...
my Helga and I survived | by pledging our undying loyalty...
to the only nation | that made any sense to us.
It was called | das Reich der Zwei...
"the nation of two. "
It was only one month after my parents | returned to the United States...
three years before America | would enter the war...
when I first met | my blue fairy godmother.
I call him that because no one | believes he existed but me.
But he really does exist... | or at least he did...
on that Sunday afternoon | so long ago in Berlin.
Nice-lookin' men.
I suppose.
- Do you speak English? | - Yes.
Thank God.
I've been goin' crazy | tryin' to find someone to talk to.
Pardon me?
I'm sorry. You mind if I come over there | so we don't have to holler?
As you please.
"As you please. " That sounds like | somethin' an Englishman would say.
- You English, are ya? | - No, I'm American.
That a fact?
Any of my beeswax | what you do for a living?
- Writer. | - No kiddin'!
Well, there's a coincidence, | 'cause I was just sittin' over there...
wishin' I could write...
'cause I thought up | one hell of a story.
There's this American, see?
And he's been livin' in Germany so long | he's practically a German himself.
He writes plays in German, is married | to a beautiful German actress.
He knows a lot of big-shot Nazis | who like to hang around theater people.
Who are you?
Oh, wait a minute. | This gets better.
So this fella knows | there's a war comin'.
America's gonna be on one side, | Germany's gonna be on the other.
So this American, who's been nothin' | but polite to the Nazis so far...
decides to pretend | he's a Nazi himself...
and he stays on in Germany | once the war comes...
and gets to be | a very useful American spy.
I asked, "Who are you?"
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I got so carried away I just...
Here you go. | That's me.
"U.S. War Department | Wirtanen, Frank - Major"
So, Mr. Campbell, | what'd you think of my little story?
What did I think of it? | Oh, I don't think much of it.
I mean, it's highly implausible. | It's ridiculous.
Oh, that's okay, 'cause...
today isn't when you give me | your final answer, anyway.
Final answer?
If you imagine that I'm gonna go home | and think this over, you're mistaken.
I'm gonna sleep like a log.
I'm not a political man. | I'm just not.
I'm an artist.
If a war comes, it's just gonna | have to get along without me.
Well, I wish ya | all the luck in the world, Howard.
The worse this Nazi thing gets...
the less anyone's | gonna sleep like a log.
Well, I don't know. | Maybe. We'll see.
That's right. We'll see.
That's why I don't expect | your final answer today.
If you go through with this, | it'll be strictly on your own...
working your way up with the Nazis | as high as you can go.
To do this right, you'll have to commit | nothing less than high treason.
Even if you do live through the war | without being caught...
your government will never | acknowledge your role as an agent.
We couldn't afford | the security breach.
You come lookin' for a pardon...
they'll deny | they ever heard of ya.
You'd be left hung out to dry.
You make it sound so attractive.
Oh, I have a feeling I've made it | sound very attractive to you, Howard.
- I've seen your plays. | - Really?
And what did you learn from them?
You're obsessed with the notion | of pure hearts and heroism.
You love good, | and you hate evil...
and you'd sacrifice anything | in the name of romance.
I'll be in touch.
It was every playwright's | secret dream...
to create the most challenging role | I could imagine...
and then play the part myself.
Cue theme music.
"Three Years Later"
"Good afternoon, | ladies and gentlemen.
This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American...
speaking to you from Berlin, Germany, | the heart of the free world.
There is a fine article | in the current Reader's Digest...
entitled | 'There Are No Atheists in Foxholes. '
Well, today I would like | to expand on this theme a little...
and tell you that even though | this is a war inspired by the Jews...
a war that only | the Jews can profit from...
you will find there are | no Jews in foxholes either.
Every G.I. Joe knows... "
Every Sunday afternoon | wherever my voice could be heard...
people stopped whatever they were | doing just to hear what I'd say next.
Even Berlin's chief of police | and his family were devoted listeners...
and not just because | they were my in-laws.
"Now, to the American folks | at home...
I want you to think of all the Jews | living in your neighborhood. "
It took me only a couple of hours | to write each speech...
after which I'd hand it over to | the propaganda ministry for their notes.
Among those who examined it | was another Allied agent...
whose identity never was | revealed to me.
"Do they have more | or less gasoline?"
My speech would be returned | with all sorts of notations...
including those left | by my fellow spy.
"To these questions... "
These markings would dictate | certain vocal mannerisms...
pauses, emphases...
coughs, stumbles, | throat-clearings.
"Now let me ask you this:
Do you know of | a single Jewish family...
that has ever received | a telegram from Washington...
that begins...
'The secretary of war | expresses his deep regret...
that your son was killed | in defense of his country'?
Of course not.
No Jewish family would ever | receive such a telegram...
thanks to a personal guarantee | from the American dictator...
Franklin Delano Rosenfeld. "
It was in this manner that I broadcast | coded information out of Germany.
I don't know to this day | what information went out through me.
"Why do you take arms | against your German brothers?
You know that Germany's objectives | are the same as your own.
You must understand | that theJews...
can only thrive in a nation | which lives in slavery.
So, my brothers...
lay down your arms.
By fighting this war, you'll only | fortify the bank accounts...
of your political leaders | who blindly serve theirJewish masters.
This has been | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
Thank you for listening. | Heil Hitler. "
You are a murderer.
You are a coward.
You are all cowards!
You are murdering children!
You should rot in hell!
Damn you!
Howard just | instinctively understands...
the German ideal | of right and wrong...
the certain triumph | of good over evil...
and the redemptive power of romance.
Just promise me one thing:
You will not leave | the propaganda ministry...
and return | to playwrighting full-time.
Little chance of that, | Herr Goebbels.
I've always found it ironic | that the man...
who so eloquently communicates | our ideals to the masses...
should be born in America.
Well, it's not so ironic.
I consider myself a spiritual native | of my adopted fatherland.
Something i've always wondered, | Herr Campbell:
Do you ever miss America?
Sometimes. Of course I do.
But I could never be happy | with the Jews in charge of everything.
Jews. The Jews will be | taken care of in due time.
Our friend Hoess here is seeing to it | at a resort he's running in Auschwitz.
My wife and I live | for that day.
Is there a chance we might | meet Mrs. Campbell?
Yes. Of course, Herr Hoess.
I'll ask Helga to join us, | if you'll excuse me.
If that woman walked off a cliff, | I swear, Howard would follow her.
Time passed.
I never told my Helga | I was a spy.
To tell her would only | put her in danger...
and make her live | in constant fear.
So I hid my true self | from her...
knowing that politics had no place | in our nation of two.
I suppose the moral here is:
You must be careful | what you pretend to be...
because in the end | you are what you pretend to be.
History says | the war ended in 1945.
In fact, | it ended one year earlier.
My nation of two was | the loser...
insanity the victor.
There were no prisoners...
no survivors.
Why would the Germans | want to kill my Helga?
Sir...
I said enemy guns.
The Russians.
It was Russian fire.
Russian.
It was tragic timing, sir.
The Russians fired | on the Crimean camp...
where she was | entertaining troops.
Reich Marshal Goering will issue | an official commendation...
for Mrs. Campbell's bravery.
I am sure | she would be very proud.
Yes. Yes, of course.
Is there anything I can do for you, | Herr Campbell?
Please.
"Good afternoon, | ladies and gentlemen.
This is | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American...
speaking to you | from Berlin, Germany...
the heart of the free world.
As you know, | the Bolshevik hordes...
continue their barbaric | advance towards Berlin.
Let theJewish leaders who are | exalted by our temporary setbacks...
be warned that National Socialism | will never allow Germany...
to fall under the heels | of the black beast...
who terrorizes | our women and children.
As for my American brothers...
you are fools | if you believe your dictator...
Franklin Delano Rosenfeld, | is concerned with your welfare.
If you fail to heed | the warning of your Aryan brothers...
the fate that awaits you | is the fate you deserve.
German victory is certain, | for it is a moral victory.
The final blow will be | struck by Adolf Hitler.
This has been | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
You may not hear from me | for a while.
Thank you for listening. | Heil Hitler. "
- Howard. | - Herr Noth.
Interesting time | to visit your in-laws.
If you wish to stay a while, | perhaps you can help me...
greet the Russians | when they arrive.
I'm going to the front.
Right over that way.
An easy walk from here. | You can make it in a day...
picking buttercups as you go.
May I ask | where you're moving to?
I'm staying here.
My wife is at my brother's home | in Cologne. Resi will join her today.
- But why stay here? | - With the Russian army at my doorstep?
I'm still the chief of police.
I'll not have my people say | I fled with my tail between my legs.
Is there anything I can do?
Yes. | You can shoot Resi's dog.
It can't make the trip, | and I can't take care of it here...
so you can shoot it.
- Where is it? | - In the music room with Resi.
She knows it's to be shot. | You'll have no trouble with her.
All right.
You broke my heart | when you married my daughter.
I wanted a German soldier | for a son-in-law.
Yes. I know.
Because I hated you so much, | I studied you.
I listened to everything you said.
Never missed a broadcast.
Did you know that | until this very moment...
nothing would have | delighted me more...
than to prove you were a spy...
to see you shot?
Now I couldn't care less | if you are a spy.
- Do you know why? | - No.
Because now I know | that even if you were a spy...
you could never have served the enemy | as well as you served us.
All the ideals that make me | proud of being a Nazi...
they came not from Hitler...
not from Goebbels...
but from you.
You alone kept me from concluding | that Germany had gone insane.
Now, look how you've grown.
You are here to kill my dog...
aren't you?
Yes.
But, Resi, it's not something | I want to do very much.
That's all right.
I never liked it anyway.
I just felt sorry for it.
I'm going to the front. | I just came to say good-bye.
Which front?
The Russian.
You'll die, then?
Well, maybe not.
Everybody who isn't dead now | will be dead soon...
including me.
I'm sure you're going to be fine.
That's all right. | It won't hurt.
Suddenly I just | won't be anymore.
Since we'll all be dead soon, | I might as well tell you something.
What is it?
I love you.
Oh, Resi, | that's very sweet.
No. I mean I really love you.
When Helga was alive | and you two would come here...
sometimes I envied her, | and sometimes I hated her.
When she died, I dreamt | I would grow up and marry you...
and be a famous actress, | and you'd write plays for me.
I see.
I'm very honored.
That's all right. | It doesn't mean anything now.
Nothing means anything.
Go ahead and shoot the dog.
Resi was only half right.
From what I could gather, | she was dead before long...
but I went on living.
Had I actually traveled | to the Russian front...
surely I would have died | as Resi predicted.
Instead, I motorcycled around | the German countryside...
thinking I could simply | wait out the war.
My little respite ended | two months later...
when I was captured by Lieutenant | Bernard B. O'Hare, American 3rd Army.
I had said "good morning" | to him in passing...
and he recognized my voice | from the radio broadcasts.
O'Hare seemed to take all | the things I said rather personally.
After my capture, | the American army escorted me...
on a private tour | of the Nazi death camp at Oerdre.
They thought it would be | interesting to see my reaction...
to the fruits of my labor.
Take a good look | at your Kraut friends, Campbell...
'cause you're next.
To me, | they looked quite peaceful.
Two days later I was driven away | by two American soldiers.
I couldn't quite tell | if they knew who I was.
Well, Howard...
what did you think of that war?
Is that you, Wirtanen?
I got to hand it to you... | you lived through it.
- A lot of people didn't, you know. | - Yes.
Yes, I know.
I know. My wife. | My wife, for instance.
Yeah. Sorry about that. I found out | about that a few days before you did.
You found out about it before me? | How did you find that out?
That was one of the pieces | of information you broadcast that week.
I broadcast that...
that my wife had died?
I didn't even know it? | You knew she was dead and I didn't?
I would have liked | to have mourned.
Well, what happens to me now?
You've already disappeared.
The 3rd Army's been relieved of ya. | There's no records to show your capture.
So, Howard, | where do you want to go from here?
Oh, I don't know.
I don't suppose there's a hero's | welcome waiting for me anywhere.
Hardly.
We can't exactly start bragging | about all the clever tricks we pulled.
We might need them again | for the next war.
No, your role | will remain classified...
and Uncle Sam's official position is | that you're the scum of the earth.
Scum of the earth, huh?
What about my parents?
I'm sorry, Howard. | They both died about six months ago.
Both?
Father first, and your mother | two days later. Heart both times.
Did anyone tell them | what I was really doing?
Come on, Howard. | What were we supposed to do?
Sacrifice our radio station | in the heart of Berlin...
for the peace of mind | of two old people?
Oh, no, no. We wouldn't want that! | How many people knew what I was doing?
- There were three of us. | - Just three?
- It's probably too many. | - Three people knew me for what I was?
Everyone else knew you | for what you were, too.
Wait. How can you say that? | You think I'm a Nazi? I wasn't a Nazi.
Well, let me ask you | something, Howard:
What would you have done | if Germany had won the war?
Marched right up to your pal | Goebbels and surrendered?
Told him you were actually | a patriotic American spy?
Yes, I might have marched in there! | I might have escaped. I don't know.
Oh, all right. | You want me to be a Nazi?
You go ahead. | Classify me as a Nazi.
You want to hang me? Go ahead | if you think it'll raise morale.
I don't consider this life | any great treasure.
Well, I just want you to know | how little we can really do for you.
How little?
False identity, some cash, | transportation to a new place...
Anywhere you'd like to go, Howard? | How 'bout New York?
You can lose yourself pretty easily. | Plenty of work if you want it.
All right. | New York then.
Of the three that knew | I was a spy, who were the other two?
The second was | General Donovan of the O.S. S...
and the third, | I'm sorry to say, is dead.
You used to attack him | every night on your broadcast.
You called him | Franklin Delano Rosenfeld.
He got a big kick out of that. | He used to listen to you every night.
"Life"
"New York City | 1960"
At first I lived | under a false name.
The idea was to start | from scratch, lead a new life.
After a while, though, it became clear | that I really had no life...
so the alias became unnecessary...
and I went back | to using my own name.
No one ever asked whether I was | the Howard W. Campbell, Jr.
All of my belongings, | like myself, were war surplus...
coming from recreation kits | intended for troops overseas.
They even included | phonograph records...
so I became the proud owner of 26 copies | of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas. "
"Property of U.S. Gov't"
I survived my purgatory | in New York...
the same way I survived | the hell of wartime Germany...
I let my emotions be stirred | by only one thing...
my love for Helga.
It remained the permanent axis | about which my thoughts revolved.
To you, my love...
to your beauty | and to my undying devotion.
To das Reich der Zwei...
nation of two.
It's very nice, isn't it?
It's very dry.
Just the way you like it, hmm?
Yes.
- Dr. Epstein? | - Yes.
I'm your neighbor from upstairs.
I've cut myself.
Well, you won't need stitches.
The blood often makes these things | look worse than they really are.
Well, thank you, Doctor. | I'm very grateful.
No problem.
I'm only sorry it took this | to provide an introduction.
Yes, yes. | No, you're right.
That's a very famous name | you have.
Pardon me?
You never heard of | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
broadcasting from Berlin?
From Berlin...
Yes, I do remember now.
It was a long time ago.
I never listened to him, | but I remember he was in the news.
Those things fade.
Those things should fade.
That insane moment in history | should be forgotten.
You know of Auschwitz?
Yes, yes, of course | I know of Auschwitz.
That is where I spent | my young womanhood...
and my son the doctor here...
he spent his childhood.
- Oh, well, I'm sorry. | - Forget Auschwitz.
It doesn't do any good.
There.
No need for amputation.
- Just keep it dry for a few days. | - Well, thank you.
No problem. | I'll see you out.
What? Pardon me?
I asked if you spoke German.
Oh. No, no, no. | I'm afraid not.
Good-bye. | That's "good-bye," isn't it?
It's "till we meet again. "
Oh. Till we meet again.
Well, auf Wiedersehen.
Yes.
Yes?
Campbell, it's Adolph Eichmann.
I'm in the cell above you.
Yes, Eichmann. Hello.
You're always typing in there...
day and night | and night and day...
typing, typing, typing...
Is it bothering you?
No. I'm a heavy sleeper.
I'm only curious. | Are you preparing your memoir?
Yes. A command performance | for the Haifa Institute.
You're a lucky man.
I'm lucky?
How do you consider me lucky?
You can type. | I'm writing mine longhand.
One day I got the idea that a hobby | might help pass the time in purgatory.
Ironically...
in my solitude | I had created something...
that could only be used in concert | with another human being.
Yeah.
George Kraft?
Who is it?
I'm Howard Campbell, | your neighbor from upstairs.
What do you want?
I want to know if you play chess.
I didn't know I had a painter | living under me.
Where do you show your work?
I don't show my work.
Well, you should.
You been painting all your life?
No, not really.
My wife died four years ago...
and I had the choice of either...
coming to Greenwich Village to be | a painter or blowing my brains out...
so I flipped a coin, and here I am.
At least you had painting | you could turn to.
What does that mean? | You mean you lost your wife too?
Yeah. I see you in the hallway | and I say, "yes...
this man too | is a member of the brotherhood. "
- The brotherhood? | - Brotherhood of the walking wounded.
World's largest organization, and you | don't know it exists until you're in it.
You become a member when you lose | the one thing that gives life meaning.
And the thing that bonds you together, | that holds the group in one piece...
is the fact that the members | are absolutely incapable...
of speaking to one another.
Sorry. | I don't mean to rattle on.
How'd you lose your wife?
I can't speak about it.
Well, of course | you can't speak about it.
You're a member | of the brotherhood.
The day came | that I told him everything.
It all spilled out of me...
You know, I knew the war was over, | and Germany was going to lose...
and here I was an American spy.
My parents, | my boyhood in Germany...
about Helga | and our nation of two...
my blue fairy godmother, | the speeches, the code...
my capture | and my banishment to purgatory.
I didn't have anything to live for. | I lost my wife, I lost my nation of two.
George Kraft, my only living friend, | took it all in stride.
Yeah, but why doesn't | the government come forward and say...
"This man you're spitting on | is a hero"?
George, nobody spits on me.
Nobody even knows I'm alive.
Life continued unchanged...
for a while.
"The White Christian Minuteman | Supreme Court Demands U.S. Be Mongrel"
"An American Tragedy!"
Howard W. Campbell, Jr., a great writer | and fearless American patriot...
now lives in poverty and in loneliness | in a one-bedroom apartment...
at 61 Bethune Street | in New York City.
Such is the fate of thinking men | brave enough to tell the truth...
about the conspiracy of international | Jewish bankers and communists...
who won't rest until the body of every | American is hopelessly polluted...
with Negro and/ or Oriental blood. "
Maybe it was that lady downstairs... | Epstein's mother.
Why wouldn't she just | call the authorities?
Why would she send my address | to some racist newsletter?
Why don't you set the record straight? | It's time you wrote again anyway.
I'm afraid dead men don't | write very well.
That's not true. | All the best writers are dead.
That's the most truthful thing | you've said today.
Listen to me. | It's because while you're dead...
you have nothing to lose, | you can be completely courageous.
Find yourself a woman, | start writing again.
- A woman? | - A woman.
George, you better stop drinking. | My portrait's gonna look like a Picasso.
- Don't change the subject. | - I'm not changing the subject.
- Sit up. | - I am sitting up.
All right, I tell you what. | You get a woman, then I'll get one.
I don't need a woman. | I'm on fire for my muse.
You, however... | you're a mortal.
You need a woman.
- I already got one. | - No, you don't.
- Yes, I do. | - Had a woman.
- Past tense. She's dead. | - I don't wanna talk about this.
I'm only telling | you what you need to hear.
- If you're gonna speak the truth... | - Oh, God, did I hit a nerve?
- No, you didn't hit a nerve. I'm fine. | - I am so sorry.
No, don't be sorry. | Don't be humble, George.
- I'm abject. I feel really... | - No, you're not abject.
- Go ahead, talk. I can't hear you. | - God, I just...
I just shoot my mouth off, | and I...
I don't know... | I'm gonna...
One, two, three, rest.
One, two, three, four.
- Who is it? | - Howard W. Campbell, Jr.?
Who is it?
It's the Reverend Dr. Lionel Jones...
D.D.S., D.D.
I presume you received | our complimentary issue...
of the White Christian Minuteman.
It's all right, Howard. | I'm with friends.
Howard W. Campbell.
What an honor.
I feel as if my whole life | was leading up to this moment.
How do you do?
Please, allow me to introduce you | to my bodyguard...
August Krapptauer.
Vice Bundesfuehrer Emeritus | at the German-American Bund.
A great, great pleasure, | Mr. Campbell.
And my secretary, | Father Patrick Keeley...
former chaplain | of the Detroit Gun Club.
Words fail me, Herr Campbell.
Likewise, I'm sure.
- Could we get some water? | - Yeah, of course, of course.
The climb up your stairs was | quite an effort for our Mr. Krapptauer.
Might we bother you | for a glass of water?
All right. Come on in.
This is my good friend | and neighbor, George Kraft.
How do you do?
- Yours? | - Yes.
What a marvelous likeness | of our Mr. Campbell.
You've done a masterful job | capturing the jaw line.
Have you a background | in dentistry?
Dentistry? No.
Well, as one who's devoted his life | to dental medicine...
allow me to say that you have | perfectly duplicated...
Mr. Campbell's Aryan jaw line.
- Oh, I'm thrilled that you noticed. | - How could I miss it?
Are you familiar with my book, | Christ Was Not a Jew?
I could never find a copy.
Oh, that's too bad.
Father Keeley, make a note | that we must send Mr. Kraft...
an autographed copy.
In it, I reproduce | 50 famous paintings of Christ...
and point out that not one of them | shows Jewish jaws or teeth.
- I don't know what to say. | - Well...
I had to publish the book myself.
But what can you expect when | the publishing industry is run by Jews?
Oh, of course, forgive me.
I've been talking so much, | I almost forgot what brought us here.
What does bring you here, Jones?
A surprise for you, Mr. Campbell, | waiting downstairs.
Why don't you just tell me | what this is about?
Forgive me, Mr. Campbell...
but I have promised | not to spoil the surprise.
Now, I give my word... | if you're displeased...
we'll take it away with us | and leave you in peace.
- Where is it? | - At the bottom of the stairwell.
You can't miss it.
All right.
- Want me to go with you? | - No.
I'll be right back.
There is no room | in your life for me.
I will say good-bye...
and I will never bother you again.
No room in my life?
My life is nothing | but room for you.
God, you're alive. | How can it be?
Oh, look at you. | You haven't changed.
- I have so much to tell. | - Yes.
I always knew you'd come back. | I always knew that.
I just didn't know when or how.
There's somebody I want you to meet. | I want you to meet George Kraft.
- This is Helga. | - Hello. Welcome.
I presume you weren't disappointed.
How did you do this? | How did you bring my wife back to me?
A subscriber in West Germany | wired me...
that Mrs. Campbell had just arrived | as a refugee.
One day I learn that you're alive...
a month later | that your wife is alive.
Now, what can I call a coincident | like that but the hand of God?
Why don't we let Mr. And Mrs. Campbell | have a few minutes alone now?
Yes, of course. Our chauffeur will | bring up Mrs. Campbell's bags.
No need, no need.
- You fool, what are you doing? | - I'm fine, perfectly fine.
You're risking your life, | exerting yourself like that.
It's an honor to risk my life | for a man who served Adolph Hitler...
as well as Howard W. Campbell, Jr.
He's gone.
Maybe I should call an ambulance. | Yes.
That's terrible, just terrible.
Poor, dear August.
Who's going to carry | the torch now?
Excuse me? | Everything all right up here?
No, as a matter of fact. | August just died.
Oh, no. That's a shame.
- Now, that's a real shame. | - Mr. Campbell...
Robert Sterling Wilson, | the black fuehrer of Harlem.
I heard about you, | but I never listened to you.
- That's all right. | - We was on different sides.
See, I was on the side with the colored | folks. I was with the Japanese.
I hear you say you didn't think | colored folks was so good.
Now, Robert, let's not squabble | amongst ourselves.
Let's all work to pull together.
Now I'm just telling him like I tell you | and the reverend every morning.
Colored people gonna have | a hydrogen bomb all their own...
and pretty soon they gonna give Japan | the honor of dropping the first one.
Where?
China, I guess.
On other colored people?
Now whoever told you | a Chinaman was colored?
Mutter, Vatter und Resi...
are all dead.
Yeah. Yes, I know.
But I... I am alive.
How?
Well, I...
It's all right. | It doesn't matter.
Our life starts tonight.
We'll check into a hotel.
Tomorrow we'll find | a new place to live.
I've found an old store | that has our bed in it.
Do you remember our old bed?
- Yeah. | - Ja.
We'll start again | right where we left off.
Nation of two.
- Us. | - That's right.
Yeah.
But...
we do not have to | check in to a hotel.
It's been so long.
I'm no longer a young man.
She had been captured and raped | in the Crimea...
and then shipped to the Ukraine | and put to work on a labor gang.
Nobody told her the war was over.
After her repatriation, she was sent | to Dresden, East Germany...
and put to work | in a cigarette factory.
Eventually, | she escaped to West Berlin...
and days later, | she was flying back to my embrace.
All that mattered now was that | our nation of two was whole again.
- Hello. | - Hello.
Welcome home.
Now here... | Here it is right here.
Excuse us. Here.
Helga, right here. | Here's the bed.
It's locked. Veterans Day. | It's Veterans Day. Damn it.
Oh, goddamn it!
Howard, you have changed.
Forgive me, I'm sorry.
Yes, I've changed, but people should | be changed by world wars.
Otherwise, what are world wars for?
Maybe you have changed so much | that you do not love me anymore.
How could you say that | after last night, huh?
We really have not talked | anything over.
But, Helga, what is there | to talk about?
No words could change | the way I feel.
Do you mean it?
Yes, of course I mean it.
Nothing I could say | could spoil it.
Nothing you could ever say | could spoil it.
Never, never.
I'm not Helga.
I'm Resi...
her little sister.
What?
You said you loved me.
- How could you do this to me? | - I love you.
You love me? How could you love me? | You don't even know who I am.
When I got to West Berlin...
they gave me papers | to fill out...
name, occupation, | nearest living relative.
I had a choice. | I could stay Resi Noth...
secret machine operator | with no family anywhere...
or I could be Helga Noth...
famous actress and wife | of a brilliant, handsome playwright...
living in America.
A man I love deeply.
Who should I have been?
Howard, for ten years | in that factory...
the only things that kept me alive | were daydreams of being my sister Helga.
So Resi disappeared.
I don't know what to say.
You picked a hell of a person to be.
That is who I am.
I am Helga.
You believed it.
Was I or was I not Helga | to you last night?
That's a hell of a question | to ask a gentleman.
Am I entitled to an answer?
Would you sometime | write a play for me?
I don't think I can write anymore.
Did Helga inspire you to write?
Not to write, | but to write the way I wrote.
We used to say that | I wrote parts for her...
that let her play | the quintessence of Helga.
I want you to do that | for me one day.
The q...
- The quintes... | - Quintessence.
The quintessence of Resi.
Maybe I will.
Resi was growing younger | by the second.
Although she had bleached her hair white | to appear older...
it now spoke to me of peroxide...
and girls who run away to Hollywood.
Finally, I have a home.
It takes a heap of living | to make a house a home.
- Who did that? | - Who did what?
That.
Howard Campbell?
You know him?
It's funny... | You look just like him.
Don't that look | like the gentleman you're with?
Let me see.
"Israel Locates | War Criminal in U.S."
Before the Jews put you in the zoo, | I'm gonna have some fun with you myself.
You felt that one, huh? | That was for Private Irvin Buchanan.
- Is that you? | - No, he was my best friend.
Five miles in from Omaha Beach, | the Germans, they cut his nuts off...
and they hung him | from a telephone pole.
And this... this is for Axel Brewer.
He got run over | by a tiger tank in Aachen.
- This is for Eddie McCarty. | - Please!
He got cut in half | by a schmeizer.
And this... this is for...
Do not speak, liebling.
- Where are we? | - We are safe.
You have been asleep. | They will not find us here.
- Who won't find us here? | - The Jews, sweetheart.
What's on my chest?
You had your ribs taped up.
By whom?
The doctor who lives | in your building.
- Epstein. | - Ja, that was him. He was very nice.
I used his phone to call Dr. Jones, | and he brought us here.
How nice to have friends.
Ja, come in.
- How's he doing? | - He has just woken up.
How's your head?
Splitting.
- You ought to take an aspirin. | - Thanks for the advice.
You see, most things in this world | don't work, but aspirin do.
Resi, the newspapers...
Is it true the Israelis | want to put me on trial?
Dr. Jones says the American government | will not let you go...
but the Jews will send men | to kidnap you...
like they did Herr Eichmann.
It ain't like having a Jew here, | a Jew there after you.
They got everything after you | but the Jewish hydrogen bomb.
What the hell is that?
That was your friend.
- Jones? | - No, George Kraft.
What's George doing here?
He is coming with us. | We are all leaving the country.
Dr. Jones has made | the arrangements.
Howard! Look who's up and around. | How do you feel?
I'd stand a better chance if it weren't | for the racket you're making.
Sorry, just killing a little time. | God, you scared me half to death.
I was worried sick about you.
You know, it was bound to happen | sooner or later.
Well, it's all for the best. | You'll see.
You'll have a new identity, | get a new place, new country...
be able to start writing again.
I might even be a better painter | in Mexico.
- Mexico? | - Well, look who's back on his feet.
Well, I guess you can't keep | a good man down.
That's the spirit. | Howard...
Wednesday night is | the weekly meeting...
of the Iron Guard of the White Sons | of the American Constitution.
Father Keeley and I want to stage a | memorial service for August Krapptauer.
We thought that perhaps you, | being Krapptauer's mentor...
might say a few words.
I've thought of a general theme, | if that helps.
I'm sure I could use one.
I think the theme should be...
"His Truth Goes Marching On. "
What could I possibly say | to a bunch of junior storm troopers?
I knew their fearless leader | for all of 20 seconds...
before he dropped dead | on my stairway.
You'll find the right words.
You always do.
When we get to Mexico...
I'm going to write again.
Did I have something to do | with this miracle?
Mm-hmm, everything.
Very little, but some.
Yes.
The real miracle...
is the talent you were born with.
The real miracle is your ability | to raise the dead.
- The love does that. | - Yes.
It raised me too.
Today, the mayor admitted | his embarrassment...
that a notorious war criminal | had been living an anonymous life...
in New York | for at least some of that time.
He also noted that neither he | nor the United States government...
have any authority to hand Campbell over | to the Israeli government for trial.
However, it all may be a moot point.
Howard W. Campbell has, | once again, escaped without a trace.
This is Campbell's | last known residence.
The modest apartment in Greenwich | Village has been vandalized...
by locals angered by Campbell's | latest escape from justice.
The United States government | has promised to make a full review...
of Campbell's citizenship status...
and to find out why he was never | brought to trial previously.
In the meantime, Israel has stepped up | its demands for Campbell...
encouraged by the idea that he may not | be a citizen of the U. S...
that he may, in fact, | be a citizen of nowhere at all.
We must never forget that a propagandist | of Campbell's sort... "Israeli Vice-Consul"
is every bit as much of a mass murderer | as Eichmann, Himmler and even Hitler.
How many millions of people | lost their lives...
because of the lies he spread | during the war?
We will find Campbell, | just as we found Eichmann.
A man can't hide forever | when his hands are covered...
with the blood | of six million human beings.
"Work Makes You Free" | Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
wanted to be here tonight...
to tell you of his long and fulfilling | association with your fallen hero.
But he's asked me to make this | brief statement to you...
on his behalf.
The truth of your leader, | August Krapptauer, and those like him...
will be with mankind forever...
as long as there are men and women | who listen to their guts...
instead of their minds.
And now for a special treat.
A subscriber to the | White Christian Minuteman in Vermont...
has made us a loan | of some very rare material...
which I'm sure you'll find | most inspiring.
Robert?
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. | This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
Tonight, I would like to ask | a common question:
Why are we enemies of theJew?
The answer is simple.
TheJew is the cause | and the beneficiary of our slavery.
He has made two halves | of the fatherland.
TheJew has no interest in the solution | of Germany's problems.
He can't. | He wants them to remain unsolved.
You see, he has a better trump in | his hand if a nation lives in slavery...
than one that is free.
TheJew is the cause | of our misery...
and today he lives on our trust.
And that is why, | as National Socialists...
we are enemies of theJew.
He has ruined our race, | rotted our morals...
corrupted our traditions | and broken our power.
As long as we are true | to our Aryan heritage...
he is a leper among us.
If we ignore our destiny, he will | triumph over us and our future.
TheJew is the plastic demon | of the fall of mankind.
He thrives in filth and garbage, | and he spreads disease.
He steals our possessions | and lusts after our women.
He pretends to be afraid | of this victim...
and before the unfortunate one knows it, | his neck is broken.
We areJew-haters | because we are proud to be Aryans.
It isn't true that we eat a Jew | with every breakfast.
But it is true that theJew | is slowly eating away at our future.
That is going to change | as surely as we are Aryans...
as surely as world supremacy...
is the birthright | of the Aryan race.
"Leave Thru Coal Bin Door. Cross Alley #645. Life | In Danger!" This has been Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
the last free American.
Thank you for listening.
Heil Hitler.
I gotta admit, Howard, act three | had me on the edge of my seat.
My blue fairy godmother.
I was beginning to wonder | if you really existed.
I exist all right. | I'm just retired. Eight years now.
Imagine my surprise when they called me | out of retirement two months ago.
- For me? | - Yeah.
- Why all this sudden interest in me? | - That's what I'm supposed to find out.
Well, it's no mystery | why the Israelis wouldn't want me.
No, the mystery is why the Russians | should think you're such a fat prize.
The Russians? | What Russians?
Well, at least two in this country.
One is your friend, | Colonel lona Potipov.
- Potipov? | - Sorry, you know him as George Kraft.
He's been operating in the U.S. | As a Russian spy since '35.
George Kraft's not a spy.
- I mean, George told me about his wife. | - His wife?
In Indianapolis who died four years ago? | No such person.
He's got a wife, all right, | still living in Proscurov.
He just hasn't seen her for 25 years.
I don't imagine he's mentioned the three | children or nine grandchildren.
- Kraft, he was... | - Potipov.
Whatever. He was living | in the building for three years.
I mean, he didn't | introduce himself to me.
I went downstairs. | I introduced myself to him.
From what I can tell, you weren't part | of his original agenda.
Just sort of an unexpected perk.
Everything was nice and quiet | until he sent an anonymous letter...
to your protege, Dr. Jones, | telling him where you were.
Then the excrement | really hit the air-conditioning.
It was Kraft.
If it makes you feel any better, | he really is a painter.
I don't think much of his work, | but what do I know about art?
Maybe it's okay. Maybe that's | the one thing you can't fake.
Maybe you're the exception | to that too.
What was Kraft's plan for me?
Well, when he tipped off Jones...
he knew you'd become news again.
He figured he could get you out of the | country easier and stay by your side.
And you could be kidnapped | with fewer international complications.
I see. I see.
Well...
you said there was two Russian spies.
Who's the other? | Jones?
Nah, Jones is | the one true friend you got.
Seems he's the only one | with your best interest at heart.
Who's the other one?
No, not Resi.
No, goddamn you! | Not Resi!
Relax, Howard, | I'm only the messenger.
You're a goddamn liar.
I'm sure she had you thinking about your | new life and how nice it would be...
but it wouldn't have gone that way.
When you got to the airport in Mexico | City, there'd be a second plane...
and off you'd go on a one-way trip | to Moscow, all expenses paid.
What could the Russians | possibly want...
with such a burned-out piece | of World War II surplus?
They can exhibit you | as a prime example...
of the fascist war criminals | that this country shelters.
They also hope you'll confess | to all sorts of collusion...
between the Nazis and Americans | before and after the war.
I think that's our echo.
You've been typing | for almost 15 hours straight.
Me, I've barely written | five pages in as many days.
When do you eat?
I don't know.
I hear your trial starts | in a couple of days.
Where's your lawyer?
He's trying to find the one person | who'll corroborate my defense.
So far I'm told he | doesn't exist.
Listen, Campbell, | can I give you some advice?
Certainly.
Spend some time | in the exercise yard...
or have them bring in | a radio or television.
You've got to learn to relax.
It is important to learn | how to relax.
That's how I got here!
Hey, Eichmann, can I ask you | a personal question?
Certainly.
Do you believe you're guilty | of murdering six million Jews?
Absolutely not.
Oh, you were simply a soldier, | were you?
Taking orders from higher-ups, | is that right, Eichmann...
like any good soldier?
- Campbell? | - Yes.
- About those six million... | - Yes?
I don't need credit for all of them.
I'm sure I could spare you a few.
- Where were you? | - We were worried about you, old boy.
- You are cold. | - I just stepped outside for some air.
- That was a bit of a risk, wasn't it? | - Yeah, it was a bit of a risk...
but you know what Jones says: | "I'll sacrifice anything for the truth. "
This is torture having to stay | in this cramped room...
for the fear of our lives.
How can people treat us like this?
Oh, I don't know, Resi.
You know, in spite of everything...
I still believe people | are really good at heart.
You know?
Tomorrow we will start our new lives, | and then you will be able to relax.
Oh, yes, to relax.
- You know, I was thinking... | - What? Tell me.
I was thinking that maybe Mexico | isn't what we want.
We can just go on from there.
Maybe right at the Mexico City airport, | we could just get right on another jet.
Onto...
I don't know. | We could go to the Caribbean.
- We could go to Moscow maybe. | - Moscow?
That's a novel idea.
- You don't like it? | - I would have to think about it.
I want you | to think about it, too, okay?
- Yeah, if you want. | - Yeah.
You know, | the more I think about it...
the better it sounds.
What can you possibly | find interesting about Moscow?
Well, I don't know. | I'd like to visit an old friend.
You never told me | you had a friend in Moscow.
Gee, George, I guess it just | never came up in a conversation.
What's his name?
Colonel lona Potipov.
- Don't know him. | - Don't know him, huh?
It doesn't matter. He's just a spy | trying to get me to Mexico City...
so I can be kidnapped | and flown to Russia to stand trial.
- That is not... | - Don't even think about it.
God, Howard, this is ridiculous.
Cowboys and Indians.
Yeah, all right, George.
Howard, this is not who I am. | This is the way things are.
Nobody should know that | better than you.
- Yeah. Yeah. | - Sweetheart.
That dream about Mexico... | it was really true.
Tomorrow we were all | going to escape.
It was our mission | to get to Moscow...
but then I was not going | to go through with it...
because I love you.
I told you I was not gonna go through | with it, did I not?
Yes, you did. | She told me.
And he agreed with me. He came up | with the dream of Mexico...
where we would all get out | of this trap together.
- How did you find out? | - American agents.
They'll be raiding our | happy little home any minute now.
That's unfortunate.
Then we must leave right now, liebling, | while we still can.
It's too late, darling. | We're already surrounded.
- Then we will fight them. | - Resi, you don't understand.
I said, we are surrounded.
Does that matter?
Yes, of course that matters. We...
You mean, | why don't I die for love...
like a hero | in a Howard W. Campbell play?
Yeah.
Ja, that is exactly | what I mean.
Let us die together... | here and now.
You have a full life ahead of you.
I have a full life behind me.
All in those few sweet hours | with you.
Sounds like a line | I might have written as a young man.
It is a line you wrote | as a young man.
A foolish young man.
I adore that man.
I'm sorry, I can't congratulate you | on your taste in men.
You no longer...
you no longer believe | that love is the only thing to live for?
Well, no.
Then tell me what to live for.
Tell me anything. | It does not have to be love.
Anything at all! | I will live for that chair...
or that picture on the wall | or that crack over there!
Just tell me. | Tell me what you live for...
and I will live for that too!
Resi, what I live for is...
I'm an old man.
I will show you what to live for.
I will show you a woman | who dies for love.
No, Resi. | No, no, my God.
Don't move a muscle.
The morning after the raid | on Jones's basement...
I was released...
thanks, I suppose, | to my blue fairy godmother.
I was deposited | onto the streets of New York...
restored to the mainstream of life.
I took several steps | down the sidewalk...
when something happened.
It was not guilt that froze me.
I had taught myself | never to feel guilt.
It wasn't the fear of death.
I had taught myself | to think of death as a friend.
It was not the thought | of being unloved that froze me.
I had taught myself | to do without love.
What froze me was the fact | that I had absolutely no reason...
to move in any direction.
Are you all right?
Yes.
Been standing there a long time.
Waiting for somebody?
You lost?
Better move on then, | don't you think?
Yeah.
"Nazi Pig"
"Keep Out"
"Let's Finish The Job!"
Who is it?
- It's Howard Campbell. | - What do you want?
Could I come in?
You're going to have to tell me | what this is about.
I want to go to Israel | to stand trial.
What?
I want to be tried | for my crimes against humanity.
What do you want from me?
I want to surrender | to an Auschwitzer.
Then find one who thinks | of Auschwitz all the time.
And don't speak Yiddish! | We are in America now!
If you can't remember, | I will remember for both of us.
- You still want revenge, is that it? | - Yes.
Then go on with your plan | because it proves nothing.
Mr. Campbell, | I think I can help you.
Thank you.
Yes.
"Translation: 'Corpse carriers | to the guardhouse. "'
"Tomorrow"
"My Trial"
"Begins"
"Dear Howard...
The discipline of a lifetime now | collapses like the walls ofJericho.
What is the tune | that Joshua's trumpet plays?
Is that the music of my conscience? | I doubt it. I've done you no wrong.
I think the music must be an old | soldier's itch for a little treason.
And treason this letter is.
I hereby violate | my direct and explicit orders...
and identify myself as the man | you knew as Frank Wirtanen. "
I affirm and will affirm | under oath...
that I recruited you | as an American agent...
and that you, | at great personal sacrifice...
became one of the most effective | agents of the Second World War.
If there must be a trial | of Howard W. Campbell, Jr...
let it be one hell of a contest...
and may justice be served.
Yours truly, Frank.
May justice be served.
I like the sound of that.
They say that a hanging man | hears glorious music.
I wonder what it sounds like.