Original subtitles

It's on, Wallenberg.

At last.

When?

A question of days.

A blitzkrieg! And we're going to win!

The FLihrer was definite as to how long it will last.

Guess.

A year? Six months?

Two months at most.

We'll scarcely have time to enjoy it.

We'll enjoy the postwar periods, Herr Obergruppenfijhrer.

Gentlemen, to the war.

To Germany and the Fuhrer.

S/eg hell.

Wallenberg.

I'll need about 2O girls.

I know this is an easy task for you...

but this time, they must not only be beautiful but intelligent...

and, above all, good National Socialists.

Go through Germany with a fine-tooth comb.

Every city, every region.

Inspect farms, factories and universities alike.

From the bourgeois to the working class, from housewives to office employees...

be they virgins or married, inspect them thoroughly.

But mainly, Prefect, base your selection upon their political faith.

These three cadavers are clear proof that our racial theories...

which are a very important part of our Nazi ideology...

are based on rigorously proven scientific fact.

The vices and corruption of an inferior race...

are transmitted from generation to generation...

by the chromosomes.

The pigmentation of this black man, for example...

bears a direct relationship to the bestiality of his race...

and the impossibility of civilizing it.

He died in a physical stupor...

after a gunfight with the police.

Remove him.

This prostitute, on the contrary-

this prostitute, who died sitting up while attempting an abortion...

is of pure Aryan stock...

and in spite of the vices of her profession...

and the corruption of her life...

this cadaver preserves, even in death...

all the typical characteristics of a superior race.

Any questions?

Professor, is it true Jesus Christ was the son of a Roman prostitute...

and a German mercenary?

Without a doubt.

There is not the slightest trace ofjewish characteristics in Jesus Christ.

He was blonde, he had blue eyes...

typical signs of his Germanic origin.

Can you tell me who was the first man in the world...

to recognize this fact and make it known to humanity?

Yes, sir. Our Fijhrer, Adolf Hitler.

He promised he'd free us from Communists and labor unions in six months...

and, by God, he kept his promise.

Today, our racial laws are the most socially advanced of all...

far more than the Fascist code in Italy.

It's so Italian!

I admire the Italians, Mother.

And so do I, darling. They're more Mediterranean.

But they're very nice.

A little too exotic for my taste. Too colorful.

Our party also suffers from a certain lack of style.

All those brown shirts. it's such a common color!

And his manners, my dear.

Have you noticed how he drinks his tea, with his little finger raised?

You forget, Mrs. Henckel...

just as my mother and father sometimes do...

that the National Socialists can't afford to lose time studying etiquette.

They're too busy trying to rebuild that order which you failed to defend...

since you were so busy checking your little finger...

and choosing your stylish colors.

Don't you realize you're a dead generation?

Good night.

National Socialism has a great hold over the young.

Well, after all, that's what we were hoping when we backed Hitler in '33, isn't it?

The most important thing is to be on the winning side.

That's the side of history, my dear.

- Fresh'. - Prosk'.!

From each of you, the FLihrer asks this...

that you contribute to the best of your ability...

to the war effort for the triumph of National Socialism and Germany.

It would have been easier to have chosen professionals...

but the FLihrer has greater confidence in political faith than in technique.

Where there is goodwill, technique can be learned quickly.

It's like killing.

The first time one can feel remorse...

vomit...

even suffer insomnia.

But by the third time, one sleeps easily...

and from the fifth time on, one goes to dinner with a healthy appetite.

Instead, it becomes exciting...

a thrill!

It will be like that for you too.

Comrades, remove your uniforms.

You are about to undergo group testing with SS men of the Third Reich.

It will help you to get rid of your inhibitions...

and will give naturalness to your performance.

The most qualified will undergo a second examination...

more detailed...

more specific.

The test has been tailor-made for you by our psychosomatic center.

Your duty is to refuse nothing...

coitus, anal coitus...

masturbation and fellatio.

Ready, Herr Obergruppenfijhrer.

Enjoy yourselves, comrades.

Use your imagination.

This is also a way to serve the Fijhrer and the Fatherland.

Ready!

Right face!

March!

Left, right, left! Two, three, four!

Left, right, left! Two, three, four!

Keep your distance!

Ready!

Halt!

Right face!

Stand straight!

Group 1, men.

Group 2, women.

Group 3, men.

Group 4, women.

Group 5, men.

Group 6, women.

Group 7, men.

Group 8, women.

Group 9, men.

Group 10, women.

Marika from LLibeck.

Perfect.

Splendid capacity for adaptation.

Olga from Hamburg.

No.

Martha from Danzig.

Rejected.

Margherita from Leipzig.

Approved.

Lela from Diisseldorf.

- What is he? ' A gypsy-

Weak. Mediocre.

No sense of race.

- Are you sure she's Aryan? - Yes.

How embarrassing.

Susan from Berlin.

Courageous, determined...

fearless in combat, steadfast faith in National Socialism.

Approved.

- Are there any more? - That's everyone, Herr Untergruppenfiihrer.

I wanted to ask, what about the rejects?

The girls will be sent to the disciplinary and educational sections.

The men-

Well, my dear Rauss...

we shouldn't keep mouths around that can talk.

I thought they still might be of some use in the labor camps...

or for Dr. Schwab's experiments.

You have one failing, Rauss.

You always want to prove that your ideas are better than everyone else's.

I repeat, do exactly as I said!

Where do you think you're going? They're all the same.

What frightens you more: what you see, or what you don't?

Nothing frightens me.

The paintings hung here were...

degenerate art.

Expressionists.

French stuff.

Jewish culture.

No, thank you. I'd rather have tea.

Tea?

The decadent habits of the upper middle class.

No, on the contrary.

The bourgeois drink a lot.

I don't drink, like our Fijhrer.

Your damned bourgeois pride.

You haven't changed.

You're the same as when you were born.

I believe in National Socialism.

Believing is not enough.

To be a real National Socialist, you have to disown yourself, your origins.

You must compromise yourself completely.

You must negate yourself to be...

reborn.

You may go.

Good-bye. It was nice meeting you.

How can I negate myself?

Humiliate yourself.

HOW?

Take off your panties!

quickly!

Pull up your skirt now.

Higher.

Higher!

Go over there.

On your knees.

On your knees!

On all fours, like a bitch, and now come here.

Crawl.

Fast! Fast!

Faster!

Do you see? You're nothing.

Just a bitch...

a bitch at my command.

I like the way you fight back.

I like your dignity. I like your pride.

Share that with me...

and I will share...

m)! POWer...

with you.

Do I repulse you?

Kiss me. Kiss me!

Do something, for God's sake! I'm not part of your world, am I?

Say it!

You're part of a more valuable world.

September 1, 1939 Declaration ofwar on Poland

To the war!

Max! Franz! Schatzie!

Champagne for everybody!

It's on the house!

Champagne and kisses from Kitty for everyone!

And reduced rates for soldiers on leave!

For amputee soldiers too?

Oh, please.

But even now, the first few war-wounded are appearing...

and even the first few dead.

Young, blond romantics, in their death throes next to the carcasses of their horses...

next to the carcasses of their armed guards.

An heroic image, right, Cliff?

Dino, if there weren't any dead, it wouldn't be a war.

Then Germany couldn't win and rule the world...

and we wouldn't be here drinking champagne and having fun!

Well said!

Cliff is much more amusing than you, my dear Dino.

And more logical.

His America is farther from Berlin than my Naples!

My friends!

Girls! Gentlemen!

Play something happy, Wolfie, immediately, or you're fired!

Madame.

Madame. Kitty.

Madame!

You're the usual party pooper.

Come and join us. Today I'm rationing out champagne.

If my girls don't interest you, surely the champagne will.

Sorry, Kitty, I can't. I've got a thousand things to do.

- I'll send you a car. - What should I put in it?

Girls or champagne?

Just you.

I appreciate the compliment, darling, but I gave up house calls a long time ago.

If you come, I'd be delighted.

Otherwise, stay in your office with your pretty ass glued to your chair.

Good-bye!

Rauss!

Gestapo.

Have you gone mad?

You have me brought here like a criminal by two Gestapo agents.

And to tell me what?

You've got to intern my girls because they are foreigners?

I have to close down? The party needs my house?

I'm not responsible.

Who the hell is responsible, then? Himmler? Von Ribbentrop?

They are all my clients, except for Giiring.

Have they gone mad too? I'll call them all right now!

I'll show you who Kitty is.

Does this seem like an appropriate day?

War hasjust broken out.

What the hell does war have to do with my work?

Do you want us to put on chastity belts because war has broken out?

Are my girls to join the Red Cross?

Wallenberg, haven't you learned anything from the Roman Empire?

You must know how to laugh and sing if you want to conquer the world.

Unless you want to close the brothel to open a music school.

Thank you very much...

but for the greatness of Germany our brave soldiers are musical enough.

Don't you think our brave soldiers...

would like to have half an hour in bed to come...

before they go?

Naturally.

But remember, most of them are married.

Married! Wives are for nursing.

A soldier wants to shoot off his own gun, not just the one the army issued him.

Sometimes I have the feeling you don't understand these things at all.

Just because I'm not interested in your whores?

But that's not the point.

There's nothing to be done. Sorry, Kitty.

You have to close down.

You're a pain in the ass. You can't ruin me like this.

At least give me another year.

Six months!

Not even one day.

I told you, the party needs that building.

But I could help you.

I could get you some German girls...

and assign you a villa in the Grunewald.

Thank you, but Kitty has always been in the center of Berlin...

and has always had international girls.

You're making a big mistake.

I could give you skillful, beautiful girls.

Elegant, too.

The area is isolated...

quiet, discreet...

and very high-class.

I could even get you a good price on it.

- And if I refuse? - I wouldn't advise it.

I wouldn't advise it at all.

You would lose more than your license.

You obviously don't know me very well, Herr Untergruppenfijhrer.

If I have to, I'll go to Hitler himself!

Still. Everybody still.

I'll miss this.

I'll miss this view.

Schatzie...

I don't give a damn about changing the address.

Love smells the same everywhere, thank God.

I'm not changing my profession. I'm not changing you.

After all...

this isn't a house.

It's just a whorehouse.

Are you crying?

I don't know why!

I don't know.

I swear I don't know why. I'm so stupid!

For heaven's sake, relax, girls!

We're not in the army.

Frankie, bring some drinks.

Something strong. it's freezing cold in this place.

Well done, very good!

They can stand at attention rather well, Wallenberg, but that's not enough here.

They look like amateurs. Look at her.

She's all right for a Sunday picnic, but not for someone who wants a good screw.

And her. Put a baby in her arms...

or a pair of knitting needles in her hand and you've got the ideal housewife.

They have no fire!

She looks constipated. She even makes me feel uncomfortable.

Imagine the poor guy who comes to fuck her.

She was made for a parlor, not a brothel.

We need soft, warm girls, always ready...

able to maintain a smile in any situation, my dear.

Technically, they are perfect.

I hope they don't salute the clients when they come in.

With my own girls, I felt so easy.

I knew they could give a dying man a hard-on.

All right, loosen them up.

After all, it's your profession, not mine.

They say you used to be phenomenal.

Teach them to be like you.

No! They are all beautiful, perfect!

Too damned perfect. They are boring.

They seem mass-produced, like the postcards the soldiers send home to mama.

I need specialists...

girls able to satisfy any request...

the strangest desires...

the most complex perversions.

The clients of Salon Kitty have imagination.

If someone doesn't prove up to it, let me know.

I'll answer for all of them.

Who would have guessed? The two of us, educators.

Bravo.

Perfect.

So, Wallenberg, this is now your battle station.

Work at your leisure.

And meticulously.

I want to check the girls' reports personally and compare them with the recordings.

It's good to trust, but better not to.

Carry out my orders to the letter, as you're quite capable of doing.

And have fun, Wallenberg!

- And what's your name? - Susan, Herr General.

Why do you look at me like that?

You look at me as if we'd known each other for years.

All of Germany knows you, Herr General.

You're the conqueror and destroyer of Poland.

Conquer and destroy my body as well, Herr General!

Let's leave Poland out of this.

War is a sacred thing and it's too big to fit in this room.

- Put on my boots. -jawohl, Herr General.

- Can you sing? -ja wohl, Herr General.

Then sing and march!

Okay, Herr General?

Take off my pants!

-/aw0h/, Herr General.' - Don't call me Herr General!

Call me... Greta.

Do you like it? You feel it?

It burns, doesn't it? Tell me you like it.

Tell me how it burns.

You're splitting open.

Take it!

Yes, take it! Become a comrade of the Axis.

An official of the Duce.

Tell me you like it.

Tell me how it burns, how you're dying.

You're splitting open. Say it.

Tell me you're dying. Tell me.

You're splitting open. You're hurting yourself.

Give it to me!

Give it to me!

- You're killing me! - Say it!

- Say it. - You're killing me!

- You're dying. - I'm dying. Give it to me!

Say it]

Say it]

Yes! I like it!

More!

I'm the woman from Masada.

Yes!

More!

Later on!

I like it!

You'll see...

in a month or two...

whether I'm right or I'm talking nonsense.

In exchange for military bases...

the English will give us pounds sterling.

In Oslo and Copenhagen...

we'll be speaking English...

my golden strumpet.

A lovely tongue, English...

a tongue for your cunt, my lovely ass.

Rauss, type up the report.

Use the exact words.

Send the first copy and the recording to the chancellery...

and a second copy to ReichsfLihrer Himmler...

extremely urgent, top priority.

- Without checking it first? - Rauss!

How many times do I have to tell you not to be so zealous?

I take full responsibility for this operation...

personally.

Well, frankly, I was skeptical.

Human material coming from God knows where.

Girls who knew nothing. I was sweating blood.

For a few days, I feared a catastrophe.

But now we're sold out every night!

I can tell from the champagne.

It's impossible to find it anywhere else but here now.

You'll always find it here. I know where to get it.

- Von Ribbentrop is a friend of mine. - So he's the one who supplies your...

Have you been at the front?

You made love...

as if you hated me.

No, it's not true.

Do you still want it?

Always.

So do I.

Of course.

Of course, it's your job.

Too bad.

Too bad you don't know what it means.

Why are you here?

On leave?

You don't want to talk?

I want to fuck.

But if you don't want to-

I want to.

That's not true.

Why do you say that?

It's not true.

But why should I care? That's what you're here for, right?

Just spread your legs.

I'll do it with pleasure.

Not like that.

Without anger.

With tenderness.

Let yourself go.

Margherita's report.

Hans Reiter.

Captain of the Luftwaffe.

On leave from the front.

He didn't want to talk.

He only wanted to make love.

He did it several times.

You are beautiful.

Even if you are just a whore, making love to you is beautiful. I like it.

I hate life...

but I have nothing against you.

Are you on leave to get a medal?

Yeah.

I'll wear it on my back.

Will you fight again?

Perhaps I'm not a good soldier.

When do you leave?

Soon. In 10 days.

An eternity for making love.

Yeah, an eternity which ends right away.

If only I could take you away with me...

to fuck you whenever I want.

It's so good with you.

You're exaggerating.

Do you mind?

But you shouldn't exaggerate. it's not right.

Would you mind if I fell in love with you?

Just a little.

Does that seem ridiculous to you?

Love is a word you can always say when two people are in bed together.

Of course.

- Hurry! The shelter's this way! - Where's the shelter?

This way! Come on!

To the shelter!

quickly!

- ' Hurry!

Congratulations.

Congratulations to me for having found you.

A gift before going back to war.

I saw light coming from under the door.

- Aren't you afraid? - The English will never bomb Berlin.

Marshal Gijring himself promised us.

That's no reason to get drunk naked.

- Have a drink with us? - With pleasure.

- Today is an important anniversary. - What of?

Margherita and I met exactly one week ago.

Many happy returns. To you too, Margherita.

I don't like anniversaries.

I only like drinking champagne with him.

Maybe not even with him.

I just like the champagne.

Too many good wishes bring bad luck.

Why, Hans?

What did I do?

Train departing for Grunewald from Platform 1.

Train departing for Grunewald from Platform 1.

Come on! Hurry!

Next train for Grunewald departs in 20 minutes from Platform 1.

Left, left, left, two, three, four.

Man, you are not doing it right.

BLACK OUT

Why, Hans? Why?

From Warsaw to Leopoli...

gutted houses, burnt fields...

dead horses rotting in the sun...

and men, women, children, piles of corpses.

Silent, deformed bodies, bloated and rotting.

We massacred everyone.

I, too, have gunned down defenseless citizens in a nosedive.

People screaming, their arms in the air.

I was born for this.

I thought my destiny was to build houses to live and love in.

Instead, I've become...

the architect of a cemetery.

Margherita.

MEN

Love me, Hans.

Here, right now.

Are you starting to understand what your despair means?

It's our last day. Stop talking.

I'm tired of slaughtering human beings.

But you're a soldier. it's your duty to fight.

I know. Until yesterday, I accepted that without discussion.

But now I've made up my mind.

I'm going to fight against Hitler...

against his madness...

against the violence which is corrupting us all.

Captain Hans Reiter came again today.

What will you do?

When I get back to my base, I'm defecting with my plane.

That's treason!

He barely spoke, only fragments of thoughts.

He's introverted, but sincere and honest.

He seems untroubled in his National Socialist faith.

Margherita, man belongs to humanity...

not to a nation or a race or to a religion.

My conscience is clear.

He just wanted to make love...

which is only right for a soldier preparing to return to battle.

Margherita, man belongs to humanity...

not to a nation or a race or to a religion.

My conscience is clear.

In her report, the girl has surely given the officer's name.

Jawohl, Herr UntergruppenfLihrer.

Hauptmann Hans Rater.

Precise and faithful.

He is returning to his base today.

Take care of him.

Right away.

Jawohl, Herr UntergruppenfLihrer.

Hauptmann Hans Reiter. You fell in love with him.

No.

Drink it.

I'm sure you've also learned to love champagne by now.

You saw him every day?

He was the one who asked for me.

And you?

You just spread your legs, that's it?

I told you to come in only if I called you.

- Get out. - Good-bye, miss.

I am Herta Wallenberg.

I married her a longtime ago.

I must say she's an excellent wife.

Discreet and faithful.

Get out.

No. Wait.

Pretend she is Hans Reiter.

Show me what you did with him.

You didn't describe that in your reports.

What is it? ls your pride still getting in your way?

StOp!

Get out!

I didn't think you'd get involved with this sentimental nonsense.

- But I guess I overestimated you. - Why? Who do you think I am?

What you are is something your Hans will never understand.

- What can he give you? - And you?

Look!

Look.

Look.

Here. You see?

Look!

And anything that can be sold, I'll buy it!

It will be mine!

Like you.

I want you, too...

in my private dream.

You want another ghost, like your wife.

It's my wish, but your duty.

You want me to lose my body, my very being?

Would you rather stay as you are now...

with your pitiful love affair?

My aims are higher.

That's why I'm a National Socialist.

I have a goal: power.

And with you, it will be complete.

Compared with all of this...

what does your pilot's ridiculous love count for?

It's not love.

Look.

I have one of his letters here.

I could destroy him.

Heinsberg, the 10th.

My love, I just arrived an hour ago...

and already I miss you...

need you...

want you.

It hasn't been censored. No one else has read it.

Only you.

You see? lfl want to, I can do anything.

- You understand? - Yes.

I can barter feelings as if they were things.

Isn't it fantastic?

Yes, it is.

It's amazing. Like magic.

Will, not magic.

And that's how it is with you. You're mine, because I want you.

Now you belong to me.

You're mine now.

My PFOtégé.

My accomplice. Say it.

I want you to say you're my accomplice.

Say it.

Yes.

Say it.

You're mine.

...miss you, need you, want you.

...miss you, need you, want you.

...miss you, need you, want-

- The lonely butterfly. - I don't find this clowning funny.

You're special. That's why the neurotics like you.

If you know how, you can get rich in no time.

- All you think about is money. - Of course, dear.

What else can you think about in this profession?

And when you've made enough, you quit.

You go back to living like a respectable, decent person.

You think like a servant.

You have no ideals.

You're not a National Socialist.

My dear Susan.

First and foremost, I am a madam.

Just as you, despite your ideals, Hitler, your husband and your daughter...

are first and foremost a whore.

I am not! I am not!

Stop it!

No, no, don't!

JESUS, Mary andjoseph!

Being a whore seems like an easy, comfortable, luxurious life.

They all fall for it. Then they realize it's not like that, but it's too late.

Darling Hilde.

Aren't you getting undressed?

Do you like it like this?

Go over there on the bed.

Get on the bed.

Turn off the light.

- What is it? - Bread.

I had it made at the finest bakery in Berlin.

Perfect, isn't it?

Put it between your legs.

Not inside, outside.

Now I'll attach it, so it really seems like it's yours.

Caress it, come on.

Fondle it.

Good.

- What's wrong with you? - Fuck! Sieg hei/I

Fuck'. Heil Hitler!

Sieg heil! Fuck'.!

What's wrong with you?

- Help me! - Fuck! Sieg he/I!

Help!

The poor girl. It was a mistake.

I should have told you!

I should have refused to work this way!

Calm yourself.

I trust there will be no further incidents of this sort.

If there are, call me immediately. I'll take care of it personally.

As you did today?

As I did today.

What are you staring at? Get out while you still can!

This is a lousy life!

A life full of shit, vomit, sperm, piss, pigs and idiots!

Go away!

And you.

Especially you.

Why do you let yourself be humiliated by men this way?

You're so beautiful, so gentle.

Save yourself, Margherita. Save yourself.

Anything is better than this life.

Save yourself.

How did you manage to hide it until now?

I bandaged myself tightly. When I undressed, no one paid attention.

Until a few days ago, it was possible, but now...

You should have informed us immediately.

- Why didn't you? - I want to have the baby.

- I've never heard anything so ridiculous. - it's mine.

- And the father? - it's mine.

Do you mean to say you'd consider having a baby without proper state control?

Have you forgotten that you are still an SS woman?

One of our auxiliaries?

It's mine.

Psychologically, this girl is finished...

as far as her mission's objectives are concerned.

We can't keep a whore like her around.

She knows too much.

Doctor, the solution is up to you.

You're Margherita, right?

Hans Reiter's girl.

We were in the same squadron. He told me about you.

Yes, I know him. He's been here.

Did you know he was in love with you?

These things happen. Fortunately, he got over it quickly.

I don't think he did.

Too bad. A man should never fall in love with a girl like me.

I'm a whore.

- Where is he now? - Don't you know?

He was hanged a few days after he returned to the base.

For defeatism and anti-patriotism.

There was an SS report from Berlin.

He was planning to desert.

He was going over to the other side, the swine.

We thought he was a good comrade.

But he was just an asshole.

With us he played the National Socialist, and in private he considered us murderers.

He was a coward.

A traitor with no balls.

Fortunately, he gave himself away.

They hanged the son of a bitch on a meat hook.

I got a kick out of seeing that bastard hanging up there.

Like a stuck pig.

I even had the satisfaction of spitting on his corpse.

- That sounded like a gun! - Margherita! Help!

Open up! What happened?

- Margherita! - Open up! It's locked.

Get me Wallenberg's office at once.

Wallenberg? it's Kitty. There's been an incident here.

An officer killed himself in the bathroom.

When are you planning to go back to Berlin?

I don't know, Mama.

Darling, are you on sick leave?

Yes, let's say I am.

A nervous breakdown.

From working too much.

And do they approve? What do they think about it?

They who? What do you know about them?

You don't even know what I do.

You just know that one day I left home.

You never wondered what kind of work or where.

You never permitted me-

I didn't permit you to register me in the National Socialist Party either.

This grudge against your father is childish.

I bear no grudges.

You despise us!

It's true.

I despise your hypocrisy...

your fear of facing the truth.

You hide in silence...

- under the cloak of law and order. - Yes! And of tradition.

A fine tradition. Look at yourselves.

Two mummified insects.

Why should people like you be saved?

For the future of Germany, my dear, our generation must preserve-

Preserve what? Your hide?

Your property?

With your eyes closed so as not to see, not to think?

A few months ago, you sang a very different song.

- It's for you, miss. - Who is it?

Madam Kitty Kellermann!

- Kitty? - Tell her I'm not at home.

No, wait. Show her to the veranda.

What kind of work do you do in Berlin?

Invent something, Father.

Whatever makes your conscience sleep in peace.

I understand you, darling.

If I were you, I would have done the same thing.

But I can't keep on covering for you. Wallenberg wants you back.

So now you're pimping for Wallenberg.

I don't pimp for anybody...

especially not for a politician like Wallenberg.

But don't forget that a German officer was killed in your room.

It's both stupid and dangerous to oppose a man like him.

Are you blackmailing me? Well, I don't give a damn.

Go ahead and tell him. Tell him it was me.

And that I killed that pig to avenge Hans.

You loved him that much?

You don't have to come back tomorrow, or even the next day.

Relax a while.

Meanwhile, I'll try to smooth things over.

There's nothing to smooth over. I'm not going back.

And don't lie. it's no good. Write the report yourself.

- Margherita is leaving Operation Kitty! - What operation?

The one that gets people hanged on meat hooks.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - The operation you run, Kitty.

Your den of spies who drink champagne and fuck...

and report everything they hear back to Wallenberg.

There's not a word of truth in what you're saying.

Stop playacting, Kitty. I'm not asking you tojustify yourself.

I don't give a fuck if you're Wallenberg's accomplice. I am too!

Me?

Accomplice to an SS captain?

You've betrayed me. Spy!Spy!

A spy in my house! In my honest, clean, welcoming house!

I hate all of you! The whole lot of you!

I never dirtied myself with all that political shit.

People can do whatever they want there.

Sex is clean.

Now I understand everything.

You changed the house. You changed the girls.

You thought you could change Kitty too.

But I'll show that bastard Wallenberg. I'll destroy him like a worm.

I'll go to Himmler. I'll go to Hitler.

And this time, I mean it.

Calm down, Kitty.

I thought you were in on it with them.

Me? Stupid girl.

How could you think such a thing?

Forgive me.

But, Kitty...

how could Wallenberg know every single word Hans said in my room?

We were alone.

How could he know how Hans felt?

His decision to defect?

That's why they hanged him.

- It's you who hanged him on that hook. - No.

No, I never wrote a single word of what Hans told me in my report.

I didn't want to admit that I loved him before.

But now I know.

And I also know what he meant...

when he told me, “I'm tired of slaughtering human beings.”

He was sure that I, too...

would start to understand.

- Do you want to be on my side? - No. On that side, never.

Don't you see I've changed? I'm waking from a nightmare.

You must help me. Decide. You must wake up too.

I don't understand anything anymore, not a thing.

Wasn't it you who said that women understand each other better?

Let's try.

What do you want to do?

Go back to Berlin at once...

and try and find out how Wallenberg knows everything the men say...

when they come up to our rooms.

I want to clean up my house...

whatever the cost.

I want it clean like it was before. Clean.

I go, I piss and I return.

Kitty.

In the bathroom, Marat was slain, but history did pardon him again.

I can't remember any more.

Kitty! Have you come to feast your eyes?

I have known many men in my life, but no one as irresistible as you.

I know. But why do you resist me?

What's going on?

Are we turning this ancient, noble brothel into a ca/dar/um of ancient Rome?

Get yourself a sheet too, Kitty.

We need to talk to you, if you can stop clowning for a moment.

As you like. What's up?

I found out why Wallenberg forced me to move here.

We are being spied on.

The girls are all SS agents.

Every day they report all the nonsense you men let slip while you're fucking.

The girls are all SS agents?

The sheer arrogance!

I know they're whores, but bitches too? Sorry, Margherita.

That's not all. The rooms are bugged.

Not the bathrooms.

Of course.

The sound of the water would keep them from listening.

But don't think the Nazis are democratic enough to let you piss in peace!

Which reminds me.

We need your help.

- What for? - To destroy him.

Well, it's a bit unusual to conspire in a bathroom, even for an Italian.

But it seems fitting for shit to end up in the toilet.

Paris is ours!

I drink to the German soldiers...

who are marching under the Arc de Triomphe!

Again!

Sieg heil!

- Vive La France! - Stronger'.!

- Vive L a France! - M ore!

- V/ve La France! - Finished!

Vive La France!

- Hei/ Hit/er! - Sieg hell!

Et maintenant, mesdames, mesdemoiselles et messieurs!

Le cancan!

Hello. What happened? Where are you?

In Paris, darling. Paris liberated by the Weimar.

I tried to call you before.

As you know, we Italians are also at war now.

Yes,just in time for the unfailing triumph.

The big brass decided I'm the best war correspondent.

I couldn't refuse the honor.

And what about me? Have you forgotten about me?

No. Your kisses are unforgettable.

Pretend I'm still there with you.

I do, but it's no good. I miss you too much.

- Thanks anyway. - But no, darling! Thanks for what?

Listen, I had to call you anyway.

Remember the last time in Margherita's bathroom?

I forgot to turn off the shower. The whole room will be flooded.

Go up to Margherita's bathroom and turn off the shower. Got it?

But do it now. At 10:00 precisely.

At 70:00, understood? Ciao.

Kisses.

Excuse me.

Aren't you feeling well?

I'm fine, thanks. I know everything.

Dino asked me to find you a radio transmitter.

Here it is.

You turn it on, and I'll record every word from up to halfa mile away.

If we want to screw Wallenberg, we use his same technique.

I see you so rarely.

Why don't you say something?

Are you angry with me?

Speak to me. Say something, please.

You like that, don't you?

Slave and master.

God, how I've wanted you.

Drink it.

I despise whores.

They're public toilets.

What am I then?

Even if I don't do it for money, I'm still a whore.

You're my creation.

I invented you.

You're my accomplice.

Do anything you want to me, anything.

Who knows when I'll see you again.

Very soon.

Wait.

I want it to last as long as possible.

- Your wife? - I sent her away.

She's entitled to one day off.

She's still your wife.

Soon I'll be powerful enough to free myself of her.

Kiss me. Please kiss me.

There is no place for illusions here.

They're not illusions.

Look!

My wife's grandfather was a Jew.

That could be dangerous for you too, if they find out.

Not when I have the power I deserve, the power of Himmler.

You're crazy.

I have in my hands the bedroom secrets of all Germany...

Ribbentrop...

Goebbels...

KeiteLjodl...

and even Heinrich Himmler.

I know the weaknesses...

of every single one of them.

The cocaine they take...

their impotence, their perversions...

their thieving, their betrayals...

their rivalries.

Social climbers and cowards.

What do your superiors think about it?

Soon, they won't have time to think.

The original idea wasn't mine, I admit...

but I know how I can get rid of them all...

whenever I wish.

- Maybe your power is an illusion. - No.

Every word is true.

It's true!

Get that through your head!

I don't give a damn about National Socialism...

just as none of our leaders give a damn!

They all have one goal: power!

There are no ideals. There is no faith.

You are the one with illusions, Margherita...

you and the millions of Germans like you who believed in us.

It was a way to get you all under our thumb.

You...

a bourgeois...

at the mercy of a pimp.

To have you and what you stand for, I brought you down to my level.

Just like all the others.

Now you're servants to a bunch of gangsters.

We made criminals out of all of you.

Murderers, thieves, corrupted accomplices...

and slaves.

I believe you.

I believe you, but I don't want to talk now.

Touch me here.

Give me pleasure.

Let me feel your power.

Whore.

I'll turn a whore into one of the first ladies of the Third Reich.

Pimp.

A whore and a pimp who salute each other in public.

Heil... Hitler.

No one knows anything about the two of us here.

Only me...

a pimp, and you...

a whore.

A whore.

And a pimp-

What's the matter, honey?

Are you getting tired of all this?

I'd like to see you do it, legs spread all day long.

I can't take it anymore.

- Why don't you quit? - I would if I could.

You're nice.

Take me to America with you. Would you?

Why not. But put some clothes on.

- I'll get my things, and we'll go. - Listen.

Listen.

Hurry up. Roosevelt's waiting for us.

- C/ifi'? - Corning!

She hanged herself.

Dirty coward.

Untergruppenfijhrer Wallenberg is not in the office!

I haven't come to see him.

I've come to charge him with treason.

Wallenberg?

- Do you realize what you're saying? - I do. I am a National Socialist.

I know that traitors must be crushed without pity, no matter who they are.

Do you have any proof?

This is my report.

You will recognize Wallenberg's voice on this recording.

- How did you find out? - I'm his mistress.

We'll look into it.

We'll listen to it.

You must listen to it and take action immediately.

My accusation is professional, official.

If you don't think you can handle it, just tell me so.

I'll go directly to ReichsfLihrer Himmler.

I'll take care of it immediately! Don't worry, comrade!

Come in.

A report and a recording! Very urgent! Top secret, Herr ObergruppenfLihrer!

Look!

My wife's grandfather was a jew.

That could be dangerous for you too, if they find out.

Not when I have the powerl deserve...

the power of Himmler.

You're crazy.

I have in my hands the bedroom secrets of all Germany...

Ribbentrop...

Goebbels...

Keitel, jodl...

and even Heinrich Himmler.

I know the weaknesses...

of every single one of them.

The cocaine they take...

their impotence, their perversions...

their thieving, their betrayals...

their rivalries.

Social climbers and cowards.

What do your superiors think about it?

Soon, they won't have time to think.

The original idea wasn't mine, I admit...

but I know how I can get rid of them all...

whenever I wish.

- Maybe your power is an illusion. - No.

Every word is true.

It's true!

Get that through your head!

I don't give a damn about National Socialism...

just as none of our leaders give a damn!

They all have one goal: power!

There are no ideals. There is no faith.

You are the one with illusions, Margherita...

you and the millions of Germans like you who believed in us.

It was a way to get you all under our thumb.

You...

a bourgeois...

at the mercy of a pimp.

To have you and what you stand for, I brought you down to my level.

just like all the others.

Now you're servants to a bunch of gangsters.

We made criminals out of all of you.

Murderers, thieves, corrupted accomplices...

and slaves.

I believe you.

I believe you, but I don't want to talk now.

Touch me here.

Give me pleasure.

Let me feel your power.

Whore.

I'll turn a whore into one of the first ladies of the Third Reich.

Pimp-

A whore and a pimp who salute ea ch other in public.

Heil... Hitler.