All language subtitles for Der Bomberpilot (1970).en

Heil!

Heil!

Death! Beauty!

I don't believe anybody.

And if...

Nobody.

After Mascha's nervous breakdown

we had to restrict
our activities somewhat.

If my heart

is unhappy in love,

It is terribly saddened
by the troubles.

And I always think

everything's over.

I am so alone.

Where will I find someone
who understands me?

Sometimes I feel

filled with desire.

But then

I got used to it.

It's not the end of the world

even if
you sometimes see it in grey.

Someday it will be colorful again.

Someday the sky will be blue again.

Things go up and they go down,

head

It's not the end of the world,

it is still needed.

It's not the end of the world,

it is still needed.

I calmly pulled the straps
over my shoulders,

and adjusted my corset.

I observed
each of my movements precisely

as if I were watching a stranger.

It was amazing how much better
my posture was,

and how
my facial expression had changed.

I experienced one of the few,
rare moments in my life

when I was
completely satisfied with myself.

As much as I value you,

...and I really do,

I simply must tell you

that the proposition
I received from the stage,

the stage that
I believed for so long to be dead,

but which isn't dead,

I assure you.

I received an offer

from Sopot.

And I must accept that offer.

When I think about

appearing on stage there

in a Viennese tragedy,

where I could sing the lead part:

Viennese Spirit.
Viennese Spirit.

It is something full of verve,

full of élan!

And you'll understand
that I have no choice.

I must leave you,
which is why I would like

to sing a little something
for you. I'm enthusiastic.

Viennese Spirit,
Viennese Spirit,

full of verve,
full of élan,

full of ardor.

Carla had left.

And we had to give up
our troupe activities.

Not least of all because,
after her nervous breakdown,

Mascha suffered from unbearable headaches
on the left side of her head.

After one last performance,
we retired from our activities.

Mascha's faraway attitude

allowed me to pretend
she was my niece.

Heil Hitler,
Madame Lieutenant Colonel!

Have a seat.

Yes?

My niece and I have come
to apply for jobs.

And I believe since, in World War I,
I earned the military cross, first grade,

that I am entitled to a good position.

My niece can't claim
the same merits as I,

but I believe certain qualities
of her character

would make her predestined for a position
in nursing or something similar.

What do you think?

Yes, Madame Lieutenant Colonel,

I would like to work
in a retirement home for dogs.

I, however, would only consider
an administrative position.

Right.

She finally looked up and we could be sure
that she was giving us her attention.

So I began to present
our request once again

and swore to myself that,
once I had a job, I wouldn't let go of it.

Patience and tenacity.
Onwards and upwards!

...that I am entitled
to a good position.

My niece can't claim
the same merits as I,

but I believe certain qualities
of her character

would make her predestined for a position
in nursing or something similar.

What do you think, my child?

Yes.

Good.

Yes, Madame Lieutenant Colonel,

I would particularly like to work
in a retirement home for dogs.

I, however, would only consider
an administrative position.

I will see what I can do for you.

Heil Hitler, Madame Lieutenant Colonel!

Heil Hitler!

Night after night, a light shines

across the green valley.

And it greets the rider

many hundred times.

Night after night,
a light awakes

the images of memory.

But the grand dream
never becomes real.

We earned a living as
church restorers.

Mascha did not forget her ideals.

She dreamed of a job in the open air
as a beauty dancer.

Carla was appearing in Sopot
in the Viennese tragedy.

She never visited us
and we never heard from her.

Viennese spirit,

Viennese spirit,

Full of verve,
full of ardor, full of élan,

Viennese spirit,
Viennese spirit.

Our hearts and our spirit
rest in you.

Our path is in you,

with the passionate
melodies of Strauss.

Viennese spirit,
only he gets it.

Since he himself
is a child of Vienna.

There are people

who are simply nervous,
and always stutter,

who are angry,
the whole year long.

When Viennese are angry,
it doesn't last long,

And whose fault is that?

Well, just that Viennese spirit.

Our hearts may also
sometimes break in two,

we don't spend our time
screaming and yelling.

What's happened has happened.
What's over is over.

We don't talk much;
we shake hands.

Viennese spirit,

Viennese spirit,

Full of verve, full of élan,
full of ardor.

Viennese spirit,
Viennese spirit,

Our hearts and our spirit
rest in you.

Our path is in you,

with the passionate
melodies of Strauss.

Viennese spirit,

Only he gets it,

since he himself
is a child of Vienna.

Viennese spirit,

Viennese spirit,

Full of verve, full of élan,
full of ardor.

Viennese spirit,
Viennese spirit,

Our hearts and our spirit
rest in you.

Our path is in you,

with the passionate
melodies of Strauss.

Viennese spirit,

only he gets it,

since he himself
is a child of Vienna.

Mascha also left

and fell into the hands of a
free-spirited performance company,

where she was forced
to perform early in the morning.

I was alone.

I was alone.

And I received a post teaching
adult education for the Reich.

...discuss the problem of mannerism

as it relates to photography.

I have brought an example,

this illustrated book
by singer Elisabeth Schwarzkopf.

Please open it to page 57.

The photo is of the singer
after a performance.

In a most direct way,
an expression of great tension

has been captured
on the artist's face.

It is documentation of humanity.

Notice how even the composition
of the photo emphasizes

the artist's expression of exhaustion
and happiness after a performance.

In contrast to that,
we have a bad photo on page 2.

A portrait.

There, everything is posed.

The lighting emphasizes the extreme
artificiality of the position of her head.

And the assured, knowing,
soulful glance upwards

seems insincere.

That example shows that photography
as a representational medium

can only produce the insincerity
and artificiality of expression.

Finally, let us now look

at the singer at ease among her family.
On page 15.

Here, nothing is posed.

We see Elisabeth Schwarzkopf with her dog.

Here we see the beautiful
side of photography,

because here it is human.

Men and women of Germany,

soldiers of the German army,

Our fuehrer, Adolf Hitler,
has fallen in war.

Desperately, I looked for a way

to return to humanity.

By chance, Mascha saved my life,

after escaping the clutches
of the commercial cabaret.

My main mistake was
that I never stuck with one thing.

For instance, the teaching post
at the adult education institute.

That might
have turned into something

if I had not been so
completely disheartened.

Why do you never think

that an angel can be black?

Many small negroes

look pleadingly at you.

Whether we are rich or poor

we will all die.

That shows
that we're all the same

when we stand at heaven's door.

Whether we are rich or poor

we will all die.

That shows that we're all the same

when we stand at heaven's door.

Black angels!

Sold out! Sold out!

I know... strong...

No! Die!

I have an injury!

The mood of the city
became more foreign

as the days passed.

It was as if something
had gone out of our lives.

Perhaps we were just afraid.

And we, at almost 40 years old,

what did we do?

We lived from one week to the next.

No bank account, no responsibilities.

We were talented in so many ways.

Why didn't that pay off somehow?

Within three months,
we got jobs as stenographers.

One Sunday in April, we went
to a Bruckner concert in the local hall.

At the very beginning of the concert,
we missed each other in the lobby.

By the time we finally found each other,

the first movement of the symphony
had been over for some time.

During the first intermission,
we had to help an odd-looking person

get into the lobby.

She thanked us
with exaggerated joy.

At the end of the concert,
we discovered it was Carla,

whom we had not recognized.

And Carla, for her part,
had not been sure it was us.

The three of us

can achieve something for us.

Something that can help us

to hold a position
in the feminist movement.

That's important.

We must write manifestos.

In America, we can...

- ...be incredibly successful.
- Here's what I say to that:

I can only think back

to the successes of 1943,

to the Viennese operetta,

with the choir boys.

It was simply fantastic. And...

But Carla that's not what matters now.
- What I mean is, if we could...

...manage to do something like that.

You're too fixated on the past!

It would be...

But that won't work.
We need to unite

with all the women who are oppressed.

Look, what matters

is that all three
of us find a profession

in which we can each find fulfillment.
For myself, I know for certain

that I could speak at a convention.

I could move the women.

I could speak of Nazi Germany...
- Yes, if you like.

...of Hitler and what it was like then.
- If I think back...

How nice it was!
- ...to the time of the Viennese operetta,

I know that it was very valuable for me.

1943...

the Vienna choir boys.

It was a fantastic time.

And I think...
- But Carla!

...that we should do...
- Not that!

...something similar.

You must stop with that.
- What do you think?

It's the only possibility.
- But the issue is that we, as stenographers,

will never attain the goals
we once set ourselves.

It's not our vocation.

We want to do something bigger.

And we have something to say
about everything that's happened.

In America, we could...
- That's so imprecise, Mascha !

You need to be more specific.
- No, it's not about more specific.

It's about convincing you
that we could really accomplish something.

I understand you.
- You understand?

Viennese spirit!
Viennese spirit!

Full of verve, full of elan,
full of ardor.

Viennese spirit!
Viennese spirit!

Our hearts and our spirit rest in you.

Our path is in you,

with the passionate
melodies of Strauss.

Viennese spirit!

Only he gets it,

since he himself
is a child of Vienna.

For several minutes,
conversation faltered.

Carla's eyes fixed on me with
an expression of pitiable hunger.

What, for God's sake,
could we quickly say?

That's not what it's about.

Remember...
- You must return to the present, Carla.

Little girl!
You're still the same old you.

- Dreamer.
- No...

We're not going to get anywhere like this.
We need to formulate a clear idea.

It's more important to find
a solid base for our work.

That's the only way, in America,

that we'll achieve anything
that comes close to racial integration.

And...

We three,
who went through so much

in Adolf Hitler's Reich,

we could certainly
formulate a manifesto

and as a lecture series

at a college or an
American university,

for the concept of Germanism...

combined with racial integration...
- Exactly!

...and recreate it for ourselves.
- I understand.

...in front of a bigger audience.

The three of us moved back
into our communal apartment

at 109 Hauptstrasse.

Our memories got between
us and the future.

Carla is looking
for two helpful young men.

The coffins supposedly contained
the mortal remains of fallen Americans.

The escort is allegedly a relative
of one of the fallen or all the corpses.

In sheer desperation,
after breakfast we smoked

a filtered marijuana cigarette

and saw the possibilities
of racial integration

in a new light.

Finally, we were ready for America,

which seemed to be just waiting for us.

Our hearts suddenly jumped.

We began to reflect hard.

It was an opportunity.

We began a new life.

We felt like emigrants must have felt

when, in some strange land,
they left everything behind,

their ties, their past mistakes,

and set off for America.

Starting with a clean slate.

As visiting teachers,

we planned
to stake our claim to America!

And swore to myself that,
once I had a job, I wouldn't let it go.

Patience and tenacity.
Onwards and upwards!

The task is real.

But I don't think your boyfriend
is the right man for me.

In sheer desperation,

after breakfast we smoked

a filtered marijuana cigarette

and saw the possibilities
of racial integration

in a new light.

It was amazing to see

how we managed to turn
our goals into action.

In Texas, we visited
an Air Force training campus.

We allowed ourselves to be filmed
for newsreels and the press

so that the positions we deserved

might be achieved by publicity.

Our idealized view
of racial integration foundered

in the face of the myriad
of foreign realities.

With the light-heartedness
that our education afforded us

we wanted to use
our position as teachers

to help bridge differences.

Contrary to expectations, we were
initially suspected of being communists,

until a German-American,
who worked for us as a cook,

gave a photo of us in our best days
to the American media.

Our credibility was undermined.

You are always so damned careful!

What happened to
your sense of enterprise?

You look like
you don't even believe me.

Mascha's affair with a bomber pilot

put an end to our residence permit
once and for all.

After one more time with our class
under the lights of the media

demonstrating the form
of communal lessons

that was close to our ideal,

we had to quit our service
to the Stars and Stripes state.

But we did not hold a grudge.

Our past also proved unfortunate
during the legal proceedings,

in which we were accused
of almost everything.

An auto-da-fe.

It was an end result of which
one could not necessarily be proud

when one considers
the high expectations,

with which we came to America.

After taking symbolic leave of America

and its young generation,

I acted out an unrecognized ritual,

which met only with
a lack of appreciation.

What was meant to be
a farewell to youth

became a demonstration
of a lack of interest.

We finally decided
to embrace our past

and we devised a new
cabaret program

that we presented
at an American officers club in Landshut.

Good day, Ladies and Gentlemen.

We have put together
a little revue for you

that we have dedicated,

above all,
to our president,

Nixon!

We rehearsed together
to learn this program.

Arduously.
Especially...

the Wesendonck song

by Richard Wagner.

And now,
Wilma Donck from Wuppertal,

with her first song.
Wilma Donck!

Applause for Wilma Donck!

Sun, you weep every evening
until your lovely eyes are red,

when, bathing in the sea,

you are overtaken
by your early death.

but you rise again
in your former splendor,

the glory of the dark world.

Fresh awakened in the morning

like a proud and conquering hero!

Ah, then, why should I complain,

why should my heart
be so heavy.

If the sun itself must despair,

if the sun itself must go down?

And, if only life gives birth to death,

if only bliss brings torment,

then how thankful
I am that Nature

has given me

such sorrows.

We'd now like to present
a somewhat older artist,

the founder of our troupe,

who is known to you from the press.

As you know,

she was a teacher
of adult education.

That's how she got her start.
And now she's here.

Magdalena Mont with her "Snake dance".

Now I, who once myself travelled the seas,

would like to sing for you a song

that will distinguish me as an artist.

It is a song

of the high seas.

Adieu!

Adieu to the sea,

to the clouds, to the wind

and the stars.

Adieu to the sea,

to faraway lands.

Adieu to men,

to masts and to luck.

Adieu to sailing,
what a difficult moment.

Adieu to ports,

from flags flying in the wind,

from unforgettable mates.

Adieu to the sea,

to the clouds, to the wind,

and the stars.

Adieu to the sea,

to faraway lands.

Adieu to the sea.

Saying adieu to the sea

is hard for a seaman.

Adieu to the sea.

No, please don't. I thank you
for your friendly applause.

I know that such a friendly reception
for us is only possible in America.

And now, something very close
to the hearts of all three of us.

Something that

as early as...

1942...

in Hannover...

we sang for the leader of our Reich.
Or danced.

The Giuditta!

"My lips give kisses so torrid."
Applause for the three of us!

I don't know myself

why one speaks
right away of love

in my presence.

When looking into my eyes,
when kissing my hand.

I don't know myself

why one speaks of magic,

for no one resists
when he sees me,

when he walks by me.

But when the red light shines,

at the midnight hour,

and everyone listens to my song,

then the reason becomes clear to me.

My lips

give kisses

so torrid.

My arms and legs

are supple and white.

It is written in the stars:

You should kiss,
you should love.

My feet

float through the air.

My eyes beckon

and glow.

And I dance in a trance
because I know:

My lips

give kisses

so torrid.

In my veins

runs the blood of a dancer.

My lovely mother
was the queen of dance

in a golden alcazar.

She was so beautiful.

I often saw her in a dream,

playing the tambourine
and dancing so wild.

You could see every eye aglow.

She lives again in me.

We share the same lot.

I dance, like her, at midnight,

and feel only one thing

My lips

give kisses

so torrid.

My arms and legs

are supple

and white.

It is written in the stars:

You should kiss.

You should love.

My feet float

through the air.

My eyes beckon

and glow,

because I know:

My lips

give kisses

so torrid.

Mascha's lover had made Carla with child,

which put an end to our career.

The child
of the American bomber pilot

almost crippled me.

After the miscarriage

I was plagued
with a bad hip.

And, if only life gives birth to death,

if only bliss brings torment,

then how thankful I am that Nature

has given me

such sorrows.

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