Original subtitles

"What's the use of digging into your past?" —

so my mother said.

This was her firm conviction.

And when I once said that I wanted to take a course of psychotherapy,

this made her angry.

I think she was afraid of what might come up from the depths.

"Don't bring up the old," she said. “What was, was.

You won't change anything.

Look ahead, think about what will happen.

The future is in your hands."

It is wrong to think that the past is immovable.

Our memories change like pictures in a kaleidoscope.

Maybe that's why my thoughts rush to childhood

in this housing, which every time looks different.

Take, for example, that quarrel between grandparents.

For me, at that time a child, it was completely incomprehensible.

Only 30 years later, the truth will suddenly be revealed.

Taking on a new meaning, memories are transformed...

Grandma, look what I found!

May I have these stamps?

They get bigger.

Whose letters are these?

Come on, give it here.

BURN ALL MY LETTERS

We're home.

- Hello! - Hello.

- Everything is fine? - Yes! Why are you so early?

- Boring party. - And I liked it.

Do you want me to call you a taxi?

- No, no, I'm on a bike. - OK.

- Did the children behave well? Yes, they are already asleep.

I will close for you.

- Be careful on the street. - Thank you bye.

Why did we leave first?

I can't stand this type. Did you see how he behaved?

- He seemed nice to me. - Yes, I noticed.

What you said?

- What did you hear. - And what does it mean?

Since we're going to visit together,

then we leave together.

For 500 crowns, she could have cleaned better.

But the kids love her.

Did you put the paper bag in here?

- You've become a curmudgeon. - Do not put the bag in the trash.

Put on some music and let's go to the couch.

Can I help you?

Go to the couch, I'll take care of myself.

Am I to blame for everything falling out of your hands?

- And who put the paper bag here? I? - We quarrel over the unfortunate bag?

- Seriously? - Seriously.

Go lie down. You danced all night.

So that's why you're angry? Because I had fun?

You're acting like a child again. Maybe it's time to grow up?

You always fight with everyone.

Even children are already beginning to fear you.

Just don't bring kids in here. - Yes?

We're fed up with your need to command everything and everyone.

I'm sick and tired of your pathetic attempts to get attention.

- What? - Do not pretend. I have seen,

- how you behaved. - When?

When you danced.

- Are you jealous? - No.

Not at all. You're just clearly bored here.

Get back there!

- The party isn't over yet. - God, what are we arguing about.

- No need to fiddle. Come back. - Hush, the children are sleeping.

- I can see! - What?

- Go back! - What?

- Where am I going? - Drink-walk!

Mother?

Everything is fine. Let's go.

- Wait… - No.

Tomorrow I will take the children to my mother in Skane.

And you won't come with us.

You have a problem, Alex.

You will have to admit it.

I can not help you. You must figure it out yourself.

Amanda said that she was afraid of my sudden fits of anger.

I didn't realize this before.

I never flew into a rage, I never hit anyone.

Only when it was too late did I realize that with anger

venting my inner demons.

I thought it was a good thing that demons only exist within me.

It's dark down there, but the sun still shines outside.

But I was wrong.

Now I know that this can destroy something very important.

We will draw a family tree.

Let's look at it through the eyes of a child.

If everything works out, the tree will give an idea of ​​​​family relationships

and what patterns of behavior have been passed down to you.

What are your parents' names?

What's the use of digging into your past!

What was, was.

The search for the reasons for their behavior inevitably begins with their parents.

Is there such a thing as a birth curse?

And if there is, how will it help me?

Will this knowledge heal me? That's not sure.

My demons are just my demons.

Now consider the relationships between family members.

Mark good relationships with straight lines,

and conflict - zigzag.

My family tree seems to be wrapped in barbed wire.

And all broken arrows point in the same direction

all anxiety is generated by only one person.

Please swear.

Now it's clearer than ever.

Irrefutable fact.

And there is something in this.

What do you see?

Many good paternal relationships

and a lot of bad ones - on the mother's side.

Maternal.

See where the source of all conflicts is?

Yes.

SVEN

What is your relation to Sven Stolpe?

Grandfather on my mother's side.

Could you describe it in one word?

Genius.

What else?

Dying.

Well, didn't you get sick?

No, I never get sick.

Okay, then help me. Here, take it home.

- And what's in there? - Everything you love.

We're good, it's warm.

Just smells like a hospital.

What to do…

I know.

Yes…

Grandfather?

Alexander!

You raised me from the dead.

Usually I came to them on Friday evening and stayed until Sunday.

My grandparents' house was the quietest place on earth.

Grandpa hated noise.

And most of all I could not stand the children's crying.

He interfered with his work.

Grandfather often sat in his office, buried in a book.

When he wasn't studying, he lay in bed.

He once told me that he had been suffering from bouts of fever since 1938.

What are you reading?

Your novel.

What is it about?

All sorts of abominations are described there.

Jealousy, betrayal.

Death.

Why read about such bad things?

I check with my then perception.

Every writer should do this from time to time.

Did you want something?

Grandmother asks what will you drink after dinner: sherry or cognac.

Okay, of course.

- So sherry or cognac? - Yes thank you.

- What did he say? - "Yes thank you".

- Grandfather? - What?

You have something red on your jacket.

Really?

Where, right here?

God, I think I spilled myself.

Have you seen Karin?

What is this? Probably ketchup?

What is this?

This is an honorary badge that grandfather received from the President of France.

How are you at school? What are you being taught now?

What are you going through history?

Do you know the Ten Commandments?

Can you name the first commandment?

- Do you remember her? - Sven... Sven...

"Thou shalt have no other gods but me."

Only today there is no longer any god. What are they praying for now?

What is the main shrine in modern society?

Can you answer me?

Sex, that's what.

He is revered as an absolute shrine.

Purity, chastity - nobody cares anymore.

I asked one guy

how it represents complete, absolute happiness.

14 years old, talented boy.

Do you know what he answered?

Lie on the beach

and orgasm endlessly.

Here it is, the current Swedish youth.

- You're not like that, are you? - No.

I brought apple tart with vanilla cream.

Eat.

No. I'm not going to sit here.

What about dessert, Sven?

Dessert…

Hello! It's me…

Hope you got on well.

You must be splashing in the pool, but I wanted to call and say:

seems to have stumbled upon something that might help.

This applies to grandparents.

Call me back later, okay? Hello mom.

I miss you.

“The blow that hit me came from the side

where I expected the greatest devotion...”

Sven Stolpe is completely unimaginative.

All his novels are about the same thing.

His hero is an unfortunate man who connected his life with an insidious woman.

This woman is cheating on him with another.

Stolpe changes the circumstances, the scene, the names of the characters,

but all his works are devoted to one theme: female infidelity.

I read his diaries and memoirs.

One year stands out there in particular.

The summer when his life plunged into darkness.

Again and again he writes about that summer, about the catastrophe that happened,

never really explained what happened.

"... In the summer of 1932..."

"In the summer of 1932..."

"...I have been subjected to..."

"... I was sexually and emotionally abused."

"...sexual-emotional abuse."

Acting on whose behalf,

looking for something that probably doesn't exist,

I, who should be in a completely different place, rummage through the archives,

trying to find any thread.

If you want to post a photo, you must let us know.

Certainly.

So, you requested Sven Stolpe's documents?

Thank you.

Finding nothing new, I was already desperate,

Suddenly something caught my eye that I could not explain.

In the diary entries, two initials appeared again and again.

W.L.

This W.L. Stolpa appeared in nightmares.

Having opened the newspaper, Stolpe immediately threw it away,

if you saw the text of W.L.

"I was at a writer's dinner..."

Accidental acquaintance of Stolpe with U.L...

“… saw W. L…”

...almost led to tragedy.

I found a few more newspaper clippings and photographs.

Great. Thank you.

OLOF LAGERKRANZ, KARIN STOLPE AND SVEN STOLPE

Wait a minute...

Look at the camera.

If W.L. This is Olof Lagercrantz

did he have an affair with my grandmother, Karin Stolpe,

thus in the summer of 1932?

- May I sit with you? - Certainly. Please.

Where is Mr. Stolpe?

He writes another creation, and he can not be disturbed.

What will it be?

A play, I think.

- Seems? - I judge by the rhythm and intonation of the lines.

- How interesting. - We'll find out soon enough.

What are you writing?

Yesterday I wrote a sanatorium novel.

Today?

Today is something like a collection of poems.

How windy are you?

I don’t know how much I am a writer, but

there is no better editor for me than myself.

Just don't want

so that your imperfections can be seen by someone else.

Exactly.

How is your work progressing?

I understand that you are a translator.

Yes. It doesn't let me get bored.

Are you lonely?

Do you mean work?

To be the wife of Sven Stolpe.

Eat, otherwise there will be no strength for creativity.

Good luck with your poetry.

SIGTUNA, 1932

NATIONAL LIBRARY OF SWEDEN

I'm interested in Olof Lagercrantz.

There are newspaper clippings, photographs, letters…

And the letters from Karin Stolpe?

Alas. No.

But there are articles, entries in diaries...

Can I get copies of the diaries?

Do you need a specific period?

Yes, summer 1932.

"Sigtuna Foundation, June 18, 1932.

I find myself constantly looking for her eyes.

I walk around the garden in circles, walk along the endless corridors... "

- I'm looking for her all the time. - "... I'm sitting in the dining room..."

I walk in circles in the garden, I walk through the endless corridors,

I sit in the dining room longer than necessary.

Just to see her for a moment.

Sigtuna Foundation.

At that time, the entire intellectual beau monde gathered there.

Writers, poets,

unrecognized geniuses dreaming of publication.

Here they received boarding and free access to an extensive library,

but they could stay until they finished their work.

Hope I didn't interrupt?

Looking for a book I saw here the other day.

No, not at all.

How is your transfer going?

Probably not. I'm stuck.

Perhaps I can help you?

What an official tone...

I can help you?

Didn't know you were French.

I didn't know myself.

I'm trying to find the right equivalent for a French expression...

"Shak fu a dream trick."

There is no such thing in Swedish. Roughly this translates as

"Everyone has their quirks."

In the book, the hero speaks like this about his mother, who drinks only fresh milk.

He shakes his head and says, "Everyone has their own quirks."

I like this.

There is something generous in this.

Do you think so too?

This means we have the right to be ourselves without fear of judgment...

After all, we are all a little crazy.

- Does Sven have quirks? - What are you talking about?

If we are all a little bit of that, then Sven is no exception.

He turns off the engine as he drives downhill.

Why is he doing this?

Saves gasoline.

What do I have?

You cover your mouth when you laugh.

What? No it is not true.

I just saw.

But it's even cute. Somewhat shy.

And you?

What's your quirk?

Don't know.

Need to think.

I'll be back.

What book are you looking for?

Erm...

I remember that she had such a red spine.

What are the most beautiful words you translated?

"I love you".

In whatever language you pronounce, these words always sound beautiful.

Did you know that in Arabic there is a word that means not just "I love you"

but “I love you, your soul and everything your soul touches”?

Is there really such a word?

How amazing.

That's not her?

No.

It seems that she was still not here, but on the balcony.

Have a good day.

Mr. Lagercrantz, do you not understand motors for an hour?

I'm definitely used to all sorts of problems.

so what? Will you risk? Suddenly it will start.

You can also try.

What a luxurious car. Impressive.

Yes, when on the go.

This is a prototype of the new Citroen model. My connections in France helped.

I traveled so much lecturing that I wanted to reward myself.

This is a brilliant deal, I will only win on the resale.

- Really? - Believe me.

Every time I go for a walk on it, its price goes up.

I did not tell you how once in Paris, on a chilly evening, we had a

pleasant dinner with the Swedish ambassador and I was returning home.

When I left the embassy, ​​I found that the street was thick with fog.

Not halfway through, I lost my way.

Then I saw a policeman, he stopped me

and kindly asked if everything was fine.

I confessed that I was lost and asked where I was.

"On the Champs Elysees," he replied. This left me completely confused.

The street I was driving along was more like a side street.

The policeman stared at me.

"Maybe it's because you're driving on the sidewalk?"

Try to start the engine.

You have many hidden talents, Herr Lagercrantz.

How much do I owe you?

Not at all. I myself was interested.

- It's out of the question. I will cry. - I do not need money.

If not for you, I would have had to take it in for repair.

Let her ride. I have business in the city

and I would be happy to sit behind the wheel of this beauty.

- It's coming. The key is in the ignition. - Thank you.

I will go with him. I need to pick up clothes from the dry cleaners.

Yes?

Look, in an hour, give me back my car and my wife.

- I'm going to Stockholm in the evening. - Certainly.

Good morning Alex.

What is this?

The book that I have translated.

You need to check for errors before sending it to the printing house.

Passionism? What is this?

Passionists are...

a monastic community founded in the 18th century by a Catholic named Paolo.

They paid special attention to the Passion of the Lord.

Isn't passion the same as love?

Passion is associated with both love and death.

The word "passio" is Latin, meaning "suffering".

The Passion of Jesus is commonly referred to as the Passion.

But like you said

passion can also mean

very strong, or even fatal, love.

Thank Sven for me.

Karin?

We never picked up the clothes from the dry cleaners.

It was closed there. Is not it so?

With gratitude from Mr. Lagercrantz.

Franz, would you pour me another drink?

Fru Stolpe?

- Ask. - Me too, please. A little.

Yes.

- For health. - For health.

- Let's take another one... - Are you sure?

- So what do you say? - Deuce?

Well, thank you.

- I won! - No.

Perhaps it's time for me. It's too late.

- Good night. - Good night.

- Till tomorrow. - Thanks for the treat.

Always happy.

No chance if you play cards with Karin.

No. I'll go to sleep too.

You can't leave right in the middle of a game. - I give up.

- I have a bad card. - I'll just finish the game and come right away.

Yes?

OK.

No, I'm tired too.

Karin...

Sven...

If we come together

then we leave together.

Does it really matter what happens to us here?

In a hundred years there will be no trace of all our battles.

Perhaps in the future some literary historian

will find in the writings of Sven Stolpe the solution to the tragedy.

Do you remember how we met?

I heard you sing in the tower.

We started meeting there in the evenings.

And they talked about everything in the world.

"Enlighten me!" - so you exclaimed.

You were my teacher.

Opened up new worlds for me.

When you proposed to me, you said marriage was like a long conversation.

That everything else in a relationship is transient.

Everything... Except this conversation.

I'm sorry.

- No, I'm not going to sit here. - What about dessert?

Dessert…

- Hello. - Hi David.

- Thanks for coming. - What are you.

Same for me, please.

Can we eat? I would kill a worm.

No, maybe later.

- But do not be shy, order. - No no…

- I'm not in a hurry. Yes OK. - Please.

Sorry for being a little late.

- Stayed at the meeting. - It's OK.

When is your book coming out?

In September. But they want to buy the rights from me

- for the adaptation of the previous book. - Awesome.

Yes. Major American studio.

Thank you.

- Well, for success. - For success.

And how are you doing? You seem to have a blog and this...

- Podcast. - Yes, a podcast.

How are they popular? - Well, yes…

And then, I also write.

- I published a book last year. - Yes?

- About my mother. - Oh yes, that's right.

- Did you read? - No Unfortunately.

But you, as I understand it, are plotting something new?

Maybe. I don't know yet

what it will result in, but I study the history of my grandfather.

Which naturally led you into his lifelong feud with my father.

The name of Sven Stolpe was forbidden in our family.

As soon as he was mentioned, dad left the room.

Sven Stolpe had many enemies.

However…

as I understand it, the conflict with Olof was special.

And I think I know why.

Olof's romance with Karin Stolpe.

- So you know about him? - Oh yeah.

In our house, it was no secret to anyone what happened then.

between my father and Karin.

It never disappeared from family memory.

I've read your father's diaries.

Apparently, during that period they exchanged letters.

I looked everywhere for them: both in the library and in the archives, but found nothing.

And I thought maybe you...

- Unless, of course, it is possible... - No problem.

You can count on me. I'll take care of it.

- Thank you. - Nu that you, not for that.

Now I'm hungry too.

- How about a steak with blood? - It's coming.

There's a nest.

These are thrushes.

What a miracle.

Let's go.

Hold on.

Carefully.

What?

I think I've discovered your quirk.

Yes?

Shoes.

You took them off in the car too.

Yes, that's right.

I love being barefoot.

Tell something about yourself.

I was sick for a long time.

Inflammation of the lungs, very hard.

Looking back,

I sometimes think that now I'm just starting to really live.

That all the previous 20 years of my life were just a protracted prelude

to what will be.

Last year, I wanted to lay hands on myself.

Why did you want to do this?

When Sven and I met,

I was pregnant.

From another man.

And I decided to secretly go to Copenhagen to get rid of the child.

When I returned home...

I was completely powerless. Couldn't get out of bed.

Sven demanded to know where I was.

He never forgave me for it.

Quicker. You have to go!

- Mr. Lagercrantz. - Mr. Stolpe.

Are you all working?

Yes.

How is the play going?

OK, thank you.

Now I have an ending.

As a writer, Olof Lagercrantz is clearly superior to Sven Stolpe.

You feel more freedom in his lyrics.

There is light there.

Again and again in his poems, memoirs and essays

Lagercrantz tells the story of his love for a married woman.

Olof Lagercrantz and Sven Stolpe.

Through all their work runs its own thread.

One endlessly writes about an angel.

Another writes endlessly about the whore.

And both of them write about Karin Stolpa.

For decades they have told her story.

Karin herself didn't say a word.

And it's you?

What are you writing?

The work of my life. Last book.

And what will be there?

Is it true.

Good night Alexander.

Good night, grandpa.

… Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us our daily bread for this day,

and forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors...

...and lead us not into temptation...

… but deliver from the evil one.

For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever and ever.

Amen.

Sweet dreams.

And thanks for today.

What are we waiting for?

I called him with us.

I assume you don't mind?

I'm not late?

We got out earlier.

You are about to see something quite extraordinary.

This is one of the best preserved church chapels.

times of Swedish power.

Here we have the baby Jesus, purifying the human heart. See?

All snakes and creatures hurriedly run, leaving the heart pure.

Isn't she beautiful?

Holy Mother of God.

The purest of women.

It is impolite to leave our companion alone in the back seat.

Will you keep him company?

His name will circle the entire globe.

He travels by airplane and

holds crowded rallies every day.

The audience is in complete ecstasy, he is idolized.

He hardly has a sense of humor.

He has a high style.

"Purity of blood, steel will..."

Purity…

What does she mean to you, Sven?

What do you mean?

- I read your novel "Coward". - That's how?

You brought forth a hero who goes through life demanding one thing:

for women to be pure and blameless.

This is a sick man with unhealthy requests,

taken from the 19th century.

And this is you.

Do you understand that the author cannot be

made claims for the fruits of his imagination?

I just want to say two things.

Firstly, the hero of the novel suffers from mental disorders,

including neurosis, oedipus complex, misogyny,

hyper-intellectualism, father complex, idealism, sexual disorder,

narcissism, conservatism and delusions.

And secondly, this hero exists in reality.

and his name is Sven Stolpe!

Where did you be all this time?

Finally, life has awakened in you.

And I thought you were completely empty, uninteresting, colorless...

You should definitely get drunk more often, Herr Lagercrantz.

It suits you.

All the best.

I think he drank too much.

What is this?

Egg.

Thrush egg.

Karin?

What's happened?

Nothing.

When Amanda and I first met, I told her a story from my childhood.

One summer, I lay in the sun all day.

I wanted to get covered in blisters so that my mother would put cream on me in the evening.

I got burned on purpose to get her to touch me.

When I told Amanda about this, she put her hand on my shoulder.

And then suddenly I burst into tears.

I didn't know why I was crying, but she hugged me,

whispered in my ear: "Sometimes it's good to cry."

And I kept crying and crying.

I didn't dare to ask her then.

Ask why I feel so sad.

It feels like he knows.

- What everyone knows. - Don't make it up.

- We would understand if Sven suspected. - I'm not sure.

Thank you.

It's not good for us to sit here by candlelight.

Come here, Sven, and settle our dispute.

We will not find out in any way which of the poets is greater, Freding or Karlfeld.

What does Karin say? - Have a seat.

Karlfeld, I think.

You've never read Karlfeld.

- I read. “I haven’t heard a word from you about Karlfeld.

I look forward to your readings tomorrow.

I would like to know more about the wife's secret preferences.

Tell us at least the name or genre.

What attracted you to him?

The naked sensuality of The Eagle and the Turtle Dove?

Why do you say that?

“I am a turtledove, and my breast is tender. Fly, my friend, over the dusk of the swamp,

Above the rare birch trees, which are in the pool, Leaning, the leaves are dropped at the hour of sunset,

Through the dense forest in the silence of the night Into my nest, where your reward awaits.

I like "May Daydreams" better.

- Also from the collection "Songs of Fridolin"? - No, "Songs of Wasteland and Love."

“A bride's wreath on your curls, Violets in dew drops are fragrant.

Only on a May night wonderful aroma

It gives us freshness, and then it disappears.”

I leave you to finish.

Sven, you can't demand that kind of photographic memory from everyone.

“So is love. Blooms only once

Like a free breeze, giving dreams of a miracle.

Hurry, dear, the hour has struck in the morning,

Kiss me, and then - come what may.

She is not everything.

Mr. Lagercrantz should have known that.

With these wonderful words...

I'm probably bowing out.

Good night.

My dove.

If you ever change me

I will shoot him first

then you and at the end of yourself.

Reading time has come.

It seems to be interesting.

Karin is an unusually intellectually gifted

woman, everyone falls in love with her.

But I have shed so much blood to win her

that not even an earthquake can separate us.

Let's go, dear. We're already late.

- It will be a bright event. - And for me too.

- Have you read the play yet? No, I only know the name.

I welcome you all to this informal creative evening.

The work that I will read to you has a special meaning for me.

Just like the room we're in right now.

This is where I first met my wife.

And here, in Sigtuna, we got married.

That is why I dedicate this piece to my beloved wife Karin.

"Narrowed". A play in three acts.

Characters: Arvid, a young journalist and writer.

Carla, his fiancee. The Stig, his newspaper editor.

Eivind, the other man.

Dr. Jensen, abortion specialist in Copenhagen.

Act one, the editorial office of the newspaper.

There is a table in the middle of the room. There is a typewriter on the table.

Arvid is sitting behind the typewriter, left alone in the editorial office.

He just finished typing the

text he intended to be a manifesto

against the decline of morals and sexual promiscuity;

affirming the right of men to once again demand chastity from women.

Next scene.

A month ago, in an abortion clinic in Copenhagen.

Basement without windows, in the same building as the church.

The doctor is wearing a white apron with dark red traces of work.

In the hallways of the basement, Carla hears the screams of other women.

"What are the risks associated with this procedure?"

“Infection in the uterus.

Perforation of the vagina. Air bubbles in the bloodstream, which can lead to death."

"Please, I can't listen to this anymore."

“I insist that you be fully aware

of what will happen to your body.

Don't lower your eyes.

Look at me!

At first you will have bleeding, which may last for several days.

Then, in time, the fruit will come out.”

“Do it. Do it.

Send this unwanted life to eternity.

This fruit of lust and frivolity.

"Do you want to see your child?"

After the illegal abortion is over, the situation does not improve.

The scene is the bedroom of a young couple.

After ten days of silence, she returns home.

The unsuspecting groom encounters a creature he doesn't recognize.

The woman is not on her feet.

Karin?

What's happening?

Sin has eaten into your flesh.

You will never be clean again.

She is my wife.

But she was his mistress.

“The piling up lies are building a wall in our marriage.

Your marble neck appears before

my gaze, which now sees clearly

that lies must die."

He fumbles frantically in the dark.

All prohibitions fall from him.

He lunges at her.

She feels his hands on her throat.

As her head hits the wall, she loses consciousness.

Finally, we see only his hand.

She touches her cheek

slides slowly over the bloodied mouth

and finally freezes.

Death frees the unfaithful female soul.

But in the dark one note sounds.

"I love".

"I love".

Bravo!

I will scream.

Look at me.

Crap…

- Yes? - Hello father!

Hello! What are you doing?

We walk along the beach.

- When are you coming? - Soon.

Dad, won't you take Dino? I forgot it at home.

Certainly.

Only I have other things to do in the city...

What's the matter?

I'll be there soon, I promise.

You have fun there for now, and we'll talk in the evening.

Dad! Look!

Wow!

Wow!

- Bye, dad! - I love you.

- Hello. You have a package. - Hello.

- Thank you. - Sign here.

Fine.

- Thank you. - Thank you too.

FROM DAVID LAGERKRANZ

When are we leaving?

I asked that our things be moved downstairs in half an hour.

Fine.

Are you sure you can drive a car?

Yes.

If I get some more rest.

I decided to leave Sven.

But you can't just walk away from Sven.

There are things I think you should know about.

Whatever it is, it won't scare me.

Do you know that Sven has a revolver?

He showed it to me and confessed

that he wanted to shoot the one who made me pregnant.

- He breaks comedy. - No.

He is deadly.

Not scared now?

No.

I could die for you. Any minute.

When will I see you again?

May I write to you?

Write on demand to the Vasagatan post office.

Call yourself C. Larson.

I love you.

K. LARSON STOCKHOLM-1, DEMAND

- Grandmother! - "My beloved!"

Look what I found! May I have these stamps?

"I am writing this letter and my hands are trembling."

Come on, give it here.

Whose letters are these?

“You just left, and I have never felt so abandoned.

Without you, life becomes dead and colorless. I will always love you.

I will dedicate my whole life to you.

It's crazy to be obsessed with just one thought.

You.

See nothing but you, your body, your eyes, your chest.

In every rustle of leaves, a breath of wind, a splash of a wave, hear your whisper.

Well, why are you married, dear devil!

I can't bear the thought that Sven owns you

that he is allowed to treat you as ruthlessly as he pleases,

and I can't do anything about it."

"Dear Olof.

You and I will be incredibly, incredibly happy, you and I.

You do not despise me, and this fills my soul with a joyful thrill.

Wait for me.

Wait and don't forget.

I'll be the happiest Karin in the world

if by the time of the meeting you still have at least half of your love for me.

Sven?

Can we talk?

Speak I'm listening.

I want to divorce you.

You keep saying you never loved me.

That we made a mistake when we got married.

I can't live with constant punishment.

Sven, can you hear me?

Can you hear me?!

No matter how hard we try, nothing works.

So it would be better for both of us to separate.

We are no longer in love with each other, it's true.

But we have something else. Our conversation.

- Talk? And with God's help, we will get through this.

We don't talk at all anymore.

I wrote to my mother. I want to live with her in Limnas for the time being.

Great.

Go to Limnas, rest for a few days,

and then come back here to our house.

It won't work like that anymore.

I've been to the doctor.

The second lung was also affected.

This means that I have not just tuberculosis, but a very serious case.

I know but…

There are no "buts", there is only death!

I am 26 years old,

and I'm going to write a will.

In the meantime, I put my affairs in order, I must have one foot on the ground.

and hope for a miracle.

There is a small chance that I will survive.

But for that, I have to take care of myself.

I need a lot of sleep.

Walk,

To breathe fresh air

and, most importantly, no regrets.

No grief!

Otherwise I will die.

I will perish.

The question is, will you survive it.

I'm not going to spare you.

I will do my best to let the truth come out.

About your men, illegitimate pregnancy,

illegal abortion, psychiatric clinic.

And then there will be no one left by your side.

Except, perhaps, lustful hunters for the female body,

greedy for dubious pleasures.

Karin...

Do not leave me.

I beg you.

Why did you keep these letters?

I didn't keep it, I just didn't throw it away.

Stop your pathetic excuses!

Where did you find that?

Don't know.

Where, in Karin's dresser?

Or in her bedside drawer?

- I do not remember. - How do you not remember?

- You just found them. - I don't know!

"My beloved little Karin..."

- Sven, don't. - Quiet!

“All yesterday I could not find a place for myself,

dying of love for you.

And today there is music in my heart

and the bells are singing.

Contemptible type!

“Your kisses still burn my lips.

This is madness -

to be obsessed with just one thought, you."

Karin...

I can provide for you and me.

Just now...

we have several difficult years ahead of us,

before I can make a living writing.

But we are not in a hurry.

We have a whole life ahead of us.

Is it true?

Yes.

Are you sad?

No…

I'm just happy.

How I want to go with you to Limnas.

To be near and not to see you...

unbearable.

We need to wait a bit.

Until everything settles down.

Then you can come to me.

You will write?

I will write.

"Dear Olof.

Days spent in Limnas

give me the peace that I've been waiting for so long.

It feels like I'm finally back home.

My life, my work - I now manage everything myself.

I decide when to go to bed

If I want, I can wake up at dawn and listen to the birds singing.

A thrush settled in the crown of our oak,

and that makes me miss it even more.

You can probably say that now I am the freest person in the world.

So. And where is my mother-in-law?

In Gothenburg.

Will return tomorrow.

What are you doing here?

I want to try to keep what we have.

I admit that I behaved inappropriately.

And I'm ready to apologize.

Will you allow?

If we're going to destroy a family by living together so little,

and break the vows made at the altar, let's at

least calmly discuss everything one more time.

It's not that much I'm asking.

If tomorrow you insist on a divorce, I promise that I will agree.

Can I take your word for it?

Got coffee?

- No, but I can cook. - No no.

You don't have to do anything. I myself. Sit.

We could go for a walk. I want to stretch my legs.

Unless, of course, you're busy. But first, coffee.

Fine.

Did someone come there?

Don't know.

Hey you!

Well, stop!

Stop!

Stop who I'm talking to!

Stop, bastard!

Well, stand!

I'll show you how to wander through other people's houses!

“Do you understand, Karin, how serious this is for me?

I have never loved before.

Self-deception, that's what it was.

Now I know what passion is.

It's complete self-denial

boundless devotion, voluntary slavery.

I am concerned about the fate of these letters.

If you're not careful, they can ruin your reputation."

We go to the house.

“I kiss and beg for one thing.

Let me love you always.

Your Olof.

You kept these letters for 60 years.

Was there really nothing else to read at night?

You really are a master at making drama out of everything.

Do you think you'd be happier with him?

Yeah, it's hard to imagine a happier marriage than ours.

- What did you say? - What hear.

Why did you stay here all these years

if only she thought of her dear Olof?

You know why. You know.

Open!

Open!

Did you decide at the end of your life to exterminate me?

You want my death!

“Sven will require you to show the letters to him.

I want to ask you: burn all my letters.

My life depends on it."

Show me the letters.

- What letters? - What do you mean, what?

He must have bombarded you with letters! Still there, in Stockholm!

Otherwise, how would you know you're here?

I burned them.

I do not trust you.

And how many times has he been in your bed, will you say or not?

Sven, I want you to get in your car right now and leave.

Don't you dare say he didn't beat you!

With a whore like you, it's not hard, I don't know.

So how many times has it been?

One.

Once.

Once…

Oh my God! What do you think Olof sees in you?

What do you think?

Do you think Olof will come when you get back to the hospital?

Yes, for nothing.

He will leave you there to rot.

Did you see him run away?

Like a scared rabbit.

He didn't even fight for you.

I know, Karin, I'm hard to live with.

I am hopeless.

But I never ran away from you.

Understand?

I promise

be there and be patient.

All I ask is that you do the same for me.

Now let's go home. To us home.

"Dear Olof.

This is the hardest letter I have ever written.

It is unlikely that we can be together.

Not in this way. Not now.

You are so young, you have so much ahead of you.

Maybe,

in a few years, when you become what you were meant to be...

When I…"

Sven, what's wrong with you?

Sven! What are you doing?!

Fru Stolpe?

Your car overturned and caught fire.

You've been operated on for over five hours.

The doctor grafted the skin from your thigh to the burned areas on your neck and chest.

How do you feel today?

You will get better.

It only takes time.

And you don't have to worry about your child.

All is well with him.

- This child... - Yes.

He is ours.

I was about to readjust.

Late saw the oncoming car.

I had to turn the steering wheel.

It was an accident.

Isn't that right, Karin?

Is not it?

Grandpa didn't leave, he's here, not far away.

I'm sorry I showed him the letters.

You are not guilty of anything.

None of what happened today.

And what are these letters?

There is one poem.

Edith Sodergran. "The land that doesn't exist"

Did you read it at school?

Many people think that it is about death.

And in my opinion, just the opposite.

This is a dream space.

It always seemed to me more beautiful than reality.

That's why I kept the letters.

To be able to return there from time to time.

OK…

I'll go, I'll go after him.

DO I KNOW WHAT LOVE IS?

OLOF LAGERKRANZ

What, it's time to leave?

Yes.

Clear.

But will you be back?

Of course I'll be back.

OK…

- Listen to your mom. - I promise.

Are you really writing the truth?

Alexander! Get down, I'm waiting for you.

So long, grandpa.

- Take care of yourself. You too, grandma.

- Hello to mom. - Necessarily.

- Goodbye! - Bye!

As a child, I had a nightmare.

One evening I saw on the news

that a prehistoric man was found in a glacier.

He was taken out of the ice completely intact. You could look him straight in the eyes.

He was given the name Iceman. Since then, he has not gone out of my head.

And then I dreamed that I was walled up alive in the ice.

Outside, life was in full swing...

But I couldn't even move.

He tried to scream, but he couldn't get a word out.

Of course, I'm Iceman.

But suddenly something starts to happen. Movement on the other side of the ice crust.

I vaguely see the faces of the rescuers.

They are desperately cutting through the ice.

They're coming towards me from the other side...

“Now I have a final,” said Sven Stolpe Karin,

about which there is an entry in his diary.

I now have a start.

Dad!

KARIN AND SVEN STOLPE LIVED TOGETHER UNTIL SVEN'S DEATH IN 1996.

Sven Stolpe and Olof Lagerkranz became sworn enemies.

IN HIS ARTICLES AND BOOKS

THEY HAVE BEEN TRYING TO DESTROY EACH OTHER ALL THE LIFE.

OLOF LAGERKRANZ DIED IN JULY 2002.

KARIN STOLPE SURVIVED HIM ONLY BY A FEW MONTHS.