All language subtitles for Lichtes Meer (2015) .deu.eng

MECKLENBERG - WESTERN POMMERANIA,
GERMANY

Mama,
do you know where my other jeans are?

"Lover,
I'm back.

It's early March and still snowing.

You wouldn't be ableto stand it.

Nothing is swaying or coiling
and it smells of stables, not salt.

I've been helping out on my mother's farm
since my return.

I like working with animals,
and, don't laugh, even the smell.

Where are you now?

Were you in such storms again?

It worked out with my university place.

I'm off to Berlin on Friday.

I'll stay with a friend of Nils for a while,
then hopefully find a place.

Will you come visit me?

I found an app for French,
bythe way.

So watch out!
My next mail might be 'en français'.

Salut et un bisou, Marek."

RADIANT SEA

DUNKERQUE,
FRANCE

I imagine myself
standing amongst a group of sailors.

It's still early morning.

Duties are being allocated.

I'm to go with two others
to the engine room.

But then the captain
takes me to one side.

He puts his hand on my shoulder
and stares deep ihto my eyes.

There'll be a storm this evening.
We need the motor back by then.

I'm sent on my way
with a firm handshake.

I run to catch up the others.

Suddenly the ship's survival
depends upon me.

First floor.

Doors are opening.

Direction: Ascending.

Yes, yes. Stop.

Stop... Stop!

Hello.

Hello.

Are you sailing on the St George?

His name is Jean.

He's waiting for the same ship as I am.

He says a seven-day wait is normal.

Sometimes, though, things move fast
and you have to scurry for the ship.

He's been a sailor since he was 16.

Then he asks me:
And who are you?

We arrange to meet tonight.

Direction: Descending.

Doors are closing.

Doors are opening.

I have precisely ten euros in my pocket.

Oysters are expensive.

I'll take care of the taxi, says Jean.

A ship's engineer
seems to earn good money.

My mother would be pleased.

Have fun.

SAINT-NAZAIRE,
FRANCE

If you look over there
you can see the merchant Navy ports.

Exactly.

Mr Captain Lieutenant, Lieutenant Werner,
Marine and Warcorrespondent.

Johannthe Ghost.
Decent German heroes.

Jean has never heard of "Das Boot".

No one knows it in France, he says.

I had to watch it twice at school.

Jean has already left for work.

I still have sometime.

MONTOIR-DE-BRETAGNE,
FRANCE

Prerequisites
for a Nautical Seaman's Licence:

School-leaving exam,

being no less than 14 years old.

Nautical studies:

Three months at a Maritime College,
Basic Training.

Nine months as a Deck Boy.

One yearas a Hand
and one as an Ordinary Seaman.

Then the Sailor's Exam.

Then at least a year
as an Able Seaman.

Professions in freightershipping:

Captain, Chief Engineer,

Chief Mate,

Second Engineer,

Second Mate,

Third Engineer,

Third Mate,

Fourth Engineer,

Ship Mechanic,

Steward, Cook,

Ordinary and Able Seaman,

Boatswain, Welder,

Oiler, Wiper.

Jean is waiting on deck E.

"Are you well?",
he asks me.

"Yes."

"He has a straight back",
I thinkto myself.

"And the work?"

I still don't actually know
what my duties are.

But I don't say so.

"As long as you know where the ship library is",
he says, and laughs.

"The ship's name was 'Marie'."

The captain's, Guermeur.
Beneath him five fishermen.

Every year it braved
the perilous fishing around Iceland

where the summer knows no nights.

Jean, the Bretons call him Yann,

and Sylvestre, the youngest of the seaman,
were at the helm.

They had fastened themselves
to the wheel.

Intoxicated by
the tumultuous movements around them,

they sang at the top of their lungs

until they were breathless.

St George, the dragon slayer.

197 metres long, 30 metres wide.

Maximum loading capacity:

2462 FEU.

"20 feet equivalent unit"
is what it's called.

I'd like to work in the engine room.

But I've been assigned to the steward,
which means, cleaning.

Jean...

do you love me?

I want us to stay together forever.
Jean laughs.

You sound like a little boy.

Then he gives me a kiss
and pulls me to him.

"Jean", I say,
"can we see each other later?"

"I'm working."

"I mean after that."

"I'm tired."

"Jean!"

A good day.

I don't want to.

Why not?

I just don't want to.

So what do you want?

I don't know. Maybe...

talk.

People need to talk.

Yes.

Well, then...

Then...

MARTINIQUE,
FRANCE

I don't know yet.

I'll think it over.

His name is Jean.

He's been a sailor since he was 16.

He had his first boyfriend at 17.

"And no steady relationship since",
he says.

How many know this bar?

The most secret places on the island.

The hotel.

The room withthe view of the sea.

We fuck and that's it?

First you show me the island,
then we fuck, huh?

That's your routine, huh?

I don't want to be just one of thousands.

Who will it be tomorrow.
- Tomorrow is tomorrow.

You're a fascist.

You're not so polite anymore.

How's that?

You're not as polite as you were
in the beginning.

Politeness doesn't always win the day.

Why?

We scarcely spoke
on the way back to the car.

I wanted to take a different path.

We suddenly didn't know where we were.

Oh, shit!

I hate the jungle.

I can see him wearing a black bathrobe.

He's sitting there, peeling an orange.

The peel falls in an even spiral
upon the table.

Jean looks as if he were in a film.

On that morning
we slept with each other again.

What do you call that?

In French?
- Yes.

Un brosse-à-dents.
- Un brosse-à-dents ?

And what do you call this?

"Penis".

"Schwanz".

Or ..."Pimmel".

And what do you call it in France?

It's also called "penis".

And you can also say...

"Bite", "chibre", "vit"...

Okay.

But in your case...

we'd say, a ''verge".

Okay.

What's up?

How do you know?

Why are you leaving?

The captain is an asshole.

The steward
who's supposed to take care of me...

is offended.

When duties are assigned,

I'm supposed to clean toilets
or distribute loo roll.

And every breeze makes me sick.

It's not my scene.

Let's do something.

I don't understand.

"The ship's name was Marie.

The captain's Guermeur.

Beneath him five fishermen.

Each year they made
a long and perilous fishing trip

to the cold seas off Iceland

where the summer knows no nights.

Jean, the Bretons called him Yann,

and Sylvestre,
the youngest o fthe sailors,

were at the rudder.

They'd bound themselves to it,

and drunk from the up-and-down,

as well as the speed,
they sang loudly

until they were out of breath.

For Sylvestre, this summer
was the last aboard the Marie,

for he was being conscripted
in autumn.

The idea of being separated from Yann
saddened him,

but equally, he wanted to prove to Yann
how courageous he was."

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