Original subtitles

"Not for pleasure alone"

Fanny.

Mother.

Siri.

Maj.

Grandma.

I am king of 17 lands.

Heed my command.

Alexander.

How are things?

Would you like to play cards before dinner?

THE FIRST ACT

THE EKDAHL FAMILY CELEBRATES CHRISTMAS

It takes longer every year.

Worthy Joseph, do not fear

Thy angel is thee ever near.

I come in haste to bring thee word

from thy creator and thy God.

Mary and the child now wake

and quickly into safety take.

Herod with his murdering hand

threatens every man-child in this land.

All this I have noted well

and shall do as you foretell.

Praised be God upon his throne

who thus protects my only son.

Thus, good people, ends our play.

It all ends well this holy day.

The son of God, saved from the sword

is our saviour, Christ the lord.

We know that in his mercy mild

he guards every woman, man and child.

Though far from Bethlehem we roam

the star in the east leads us home.

Merrily may every light

shed its radiance clear and bright.

A time of joyous Christmas cheer

we wish to all, both far and near.

Let no one into darkness fall.

A merry Christmas one and all.

Traditionally the Ekdahls give a party for the theatre staff down on the stage.

The guests are what you'd call a rather mixed lot.

Quite different from what we're used to here in the theatre restaurant.

Nevertheless, I don't want to see any supercilious glances,

snootiness, or raised eyebrows.

I want to see generosity, warmth and kindness. Is that clear?

- Yes, sir. - That's the spirit!

Alma and Petra, take the Christmas basket.

I'll take the punch bowl.

- Are we ready? - Yes, sir.

Forward march!

Come along, Carlchen.

We mustn't be late to your mother's like last year.

Come along.

Hurry up.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, Oscar.

Help yourselves, everybody!

Step forward, step forward. Don't be shy.

When you've given Ismael his dinner,

turn off the lights in the shop and lock up.

I have the key.

Good night, Aron.

Good night, uncle Isak.

This is the 43rd Christmas we're celebrating together.

My dear ester, is it possible?

Yes, the 43rd.

Well, well, who'd have thought it?

Yes, it's odd.

Dear ester.

Good evening, Mrs. Ekdahl.

Good evening, girls.

- Alida, you may join the other girls. - Thank you, Mrs. Ekdahl.

- Why are you so sullen? - I'm not sullen.

I can see you are.

You're always sullen on Christmas eve.

- I don't know what you mean. - You heard me. You're sullen.

Old hag.

My dear friends.

For 22 years...

in the capacity of theatre manager,

I've stood here and made a speech...

without really having any talent...

for that sort of thing.

Especially if you think of my father,

who was brilliant at speeches.

My only talent, if you can call it that in my case...

is that I love this little world...

inside the thick walls of this playhouse.

And I'm fond of the people who work in this little world.

Outside is the big world,

and sometimes the little world succeeds...

in reflecting the big one...

so that we understand it better.

Or perhaps we give the people who come here

a chance to forget for a while...

for a few short moments...

for a few short moments...

the harsh world outside.

Our theatre is...

a little room...

of orderliness, routine, care...

and love.

I don't know why I feel...

so comically solemn... this evening.

I can't explain how I feel, so I'd best be brief.

My wife and I...

and the rest of the Ekdahl family,

my brother Carl - I think Carl is here.

We wish you all a happy and joyous Christmas.

I hope we meet again on St. Stephen's day, strengthened in body and soul.

Merry Christmas.

Isak!

Merry Christmas.

I can't think where they all are.

They should have been here a long time ago.

I expect Oscar is making a long, dull speech.

I think I hear them down in the street.

Ester, bring me my fur.

There comes my family.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas, grandma.

Merry Christmas, aunt.

Mama, you look so beautiful.

What is it, darling?

Aunt Emma, how nice to see you.

Aunt Emma, how nice. Welcome.

What time is it?

The only question is: Where are Carl and Lydia?

Perhaps they got the wrong time.

Christmas dinner is always at 4:30.

Alexander, run down and ring uncle Carl's doorbell.

- Carlchen, please hurry. - Shut up!

- We're so late. - Shut up!

We arrive late every year.

- I'm doing this for your sake. - No more, mein Carlchen.

- Mama. - Well, Carl.

Merry Christmas, aunt.

Well, at last we can have dinner.

Now for the first sing hop faderallan lallan lay

and those who don't the first one take will also number two forsake

now for the first

sing hop faderallan lallan lay

cheers, Isak and miss Alida.

I've got terrible heartburn. I have to take a pill.

Mr. Jacobi, how awful!

The Ekdahls will be the death of me.

After last Christmas, I was in bed for three weeks with kidney pains.

- You don't say. - Worse than childbirth.

Does miss Alida have children?

Good heavens, no. Why do you ask?

I'm in need of a housekeeper, miss Alida.

Thank you, sir, but I like it with the Ekdahl family.

Let's discuss it after the new year.

Well, there's no harm in discussing it.

So you see, my brother Gustav Adolf Ekdahl

is a magnificent human being.

Then you brown the breasts, but use plenty of butter in the pan,

and fry some prime pork at the same time.

Then you put the ground meat on top of the breast,

and the pork on top of that.

Finally, you pour the port sauce with mushrooms on top of everything.

Hey, Christmas gnomes let's raise our glasses and be merry

our time on earth is brief full of toil and grief

hey, Christmas gnomes let's raise our glasses and be merry

no appetite, miss ester?

Miss Vega, you're not eating anything yourself.

It's not easy, I must say.

No, it's not easy. You're right.

It's unseemly, all of us sitting together like this.

I agree with you. It's unseemly.

Sitting together in the kitchen.

It was the old master who decided --

Be that as it may. It's awkward nonetheless.

Yes, it is. It's awkward.

Well, Fanny, we're having a pleasant time, aren't we?

I think dinner is taking too long.

You're wondering what you'll get for Christmas, of course.

Aren't you, uncle Gusten?

You're absolutely right, my dear.

I'm quite curious as to what the evening will bring.

Frau von Bahlen.

My dear husband has implored me to sing something after dinner.

I said I couldn't, but he's so persistent.

He says my singing reminds him

of our youthful days in Munich.

My husband is so touching, Frau von Bahlen.

Sometimes he's like a child.

Your father is a magnificent human being.

You think I'm being sarcastic.

I'm never sarcastic when I'm in good spirits.

So believe me, Petra, when I say...

then you add carrots, sprouts, red cabbage and cauliflower,

and then you pour cognac over the whole thing.

We'll have to try it on twelfth night - if we're still alive, of course.

Dear friends, I would like to make a speech.

But I'm not going to.

Cheers, Carl. Short and sweet!

This is the 24th Christmas I've celebrated with the family.

My dear Emma, is it really possible?

Yes, my Karl-Henrik died in '79.

Was it that long ago?

He'd be 98 years old if he were living today.

My dear Emma, imagine that.

I was 19 when we got married.

You were only 19?

A great age difference.

There's no denying that. But you were fond of --

My sister also married an older man.

Yes, I remember. It was a magnificent wedding.

He died three months later, leaving a fortune behind.

Karl-Henrik did no such thing.

No, he certainly didn't.

Putte!

Try sitting up properly for once.

Elbows down and back straight. You really have awful table manners.

Berta, since you're sitting next to my father,

could you ask him for me if I may be spared

being taught manners on Christmas eve?

- Siri. - What is it, Jenny?

Are you mad about something?

Not at all. Why do you ask?

You're not laughing like everybody else.

Some people find it hard to laugh.

Why?

Some people bear a great sorrow, for instance.

And it grows larger and larger when others are happy?

For some people, Christmas is a bit difficult.

Why?

Well, Jenny, there are so many memories.

Maybe you'll be happy by next Christmas.

Maybe.

Aunt Anna?

Yes, Alexander?

Since you're so rich, you could get any man you please.

- You think so, Alexander? - That's what father says, anyway.

That's nice to hear.

So, you're leaving us to get married, miss Berta.

Yes, sir, I am.

Well, it's going to be damned lonely without you.

Both my wife and I --

It looks like you'll have some consolation.

Here's to old times, miss Berta.

Cheers, sir...

and good luck.

A rhyme for the porridge.

"Our porridge is our strength and stay

it is our staple food

in joy, in grief, both night and day

it always does us good"

look! I found the almond!

Four cheers for the coming year's little bride-to-be!

Now it's Yule again, now it's Yule again and Yule will last until it's Easter

that's not true of course no, that's not true of course

for in between comes lent and fasting

what would Maj say to a little visit in her room this evening?

The master must be joking.

Are you all right, sir?

I'm fine.

I must help the girls with the tree.

Have you noticed that my old man has begun to court Maj?

- Aren't you angry? - Angry?

I think it's sweet.

Children, come.

Uncle Carl is going to treat you to one helluva fireworks show.

Stay here.

Ready?

Number one.

Now comes number two.

Now comes number three.

Bring the candle.

"And it came to pass in those days

that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus

that all the world should be taxed.

And this taxing was first made

when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.

And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee

out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea...

unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem...

because he was of the house and lineage of David,

to be taxed with Mary his wife,

who was great with child.

And so it was that while they were there,

the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes

and laid him in a manger,

because there was no room for them in the inn."

- Give up? - No!

I'm sorry. It's a terrible mess in here.

Come see us later and you'll get a Christmas present.

Thank you, Mrs. Ekdahl.

Now then, children, into bed.

Hurry up, Alexander.

To bed now, children.

Now say your prayers.

Thank you God for this day. Please make me good.

May your angel stay by me through the night.

God bless papa and mama, grandpapa and grandmama,

myself and my brothers and sisters and cousins, uncles and aunts,

Vega, Ester, Maj, Siri, Berta, Alida,

Lisen and uncle Isak and everybody else.

Amen.

- Good night, Alexander. - Good night, sweetheart.

Good night. Sleep well.

Putte kisses like a real man.

Look at my Christmas present.

Look what Mrs. Ekdahl gave me.

Aren't I beautiful? Don't I look lovely?

I look like a real lady.

Don't you think?

Tonight you can't sleep in Maj's bed because Maj will have a visitor.

And I can't just have any number of men in my bed.

But you're Maj's sweetheart. You know that.

I think mama should recite something.

No, my dear.

Calm down, now.

Don't be shy. You give wonderful recitations.

No, I don't know. I'll have to fortify myself.

I don't know what to read.

Well, you asked for it.

Alone I advance on my course

farther and farther stretches the road

alas, in the distance my goal is hidden

dusk is falling, night fills the sky

soon the everlasting stars are all I see

but I do not lament the fleeting day

the coming night does not appal me

for of the love that shines through the world

a gleam has entered my soul

how beautiful.

Well, my dear ones, it's time to say good night.

We're getting up early.

Carlchen! Wake up.

We're going home.

Good night, mama. Carl's a bit tired. I'll give him a hand.

Come along now. We're going home.

Good night.

Good night, mama.

- I stayed behind. - So I noticed.

There she lies, the beautiful girl, poor Arabella.

Little does she know what awaits her.

She's alone in the whole house.

Her mother is dead, and her father is carousing with loose companions.

Who comes there as the clock strikes 12:00 in the castle tower?

"Fear seizes me.

What is that terrifying white figure

floating on the moonbeams and drawing near my bed?

It is my dead mother. My mother's ghost."

No more noise in here now!

Go to sleep, children. Good night.

I thought I smelled kerosene in the nursery.

- Kerosene? - Yes, kerosene.

There's no kerosene lamp in the nursery.

Well, it smells like it anyway.

I'll go see what it could be.

It really does smell of kerosene.

Are you sleeping, you brats?

What have you been up to?

That's strange.

Yes, very strange.

This is a chair.

But not just any chair.

It might look like an ordinary nursery chair,

made of wood, humble and rather worn...

but looks can be deceiving.

It's actually the most valuable chair in the world.

It belonged to the emperor of china

and has by strange paths ended up in the Ekdahl nursery.

But pay attention, ladies and gentlemen.

Look closely.

Keep your eyes open.

Look there.

Do you see the mysterious light

that radiates from that little chair?

That's right. It glows from within.

Look how it shines.

Now I ask you, my children:

Why does the chair shine?

Why does it shimmer in the dark?

I'll tell you, but remember:

It's a secret.

Whoever reveals it will perish.

Do you swear to keep quiet? - We swear.

Not so loud. Mother could hear us.

And that would be the end of the performance.

This is the most valuable chair in the world.

It's made of a metal found 40 miles beneath the earth,

and only in china.

Though it appears encrusted with diamonds,

it's much finer and more costly.

The chair was built 3,000 years ago

by the emperor's master jeweller

as a birthday present for the empress.

She was very small in stature, not much bigger than Fanny,

but she was the world's most beautiful woman.

Her entire life she sat on this chair.

Two servants accompanied her wherever she went,

carrying the chair between them.

When the empress died, she was buried sitting on this chair.

For 2,000 years she sat in her burial chamber.

The chair shimmered in the dark, its light shining right through

the empress's little figure.

But then a band of robbers came

and broke into the tomb.

They knocked the empress off the chair,

and she turned to powder and dust.

Then they made off with the chair.

Now it belongs to you.

The most precious chair in the world belongs to you.

Take care of it, for it's very fragile.

It might easily fall to pieces.

Touch it gently.

Sit on it very carefully.

Talk to it.

And at least twice a day breathe on it.

What an idiotic little chair!

So worn and ridiculous!

And ugly, to boot!

I'll be damned!

I think the confounded chair is trying to bite my rear end!

I'll show it!

Don't do that!

Have you all gone mad? It's 3:00 in the morning!

We have to get up for church in two hours!

- Can we be in Hamlet? - Please.

I know you've spoken with Mr. Landahl, but this is a matter for father to decide.

It's for mother to decide.

It's much too late for children who have school the next day.

No, it's not.

We can be pages in the first act.

Who's not in the last act can't be in the first.

It has to be different pages in the last act anyway.

Good night, kids.

On the condition that you do your homework...

and come straight home after the court scenes.

And absolutely no whining about getting up the next morning.

Here we go, Isak. I've made some nice strong coffee.

Much better than Vega's awful dishwater.

Give this a try.

What can the time be? Ten past 3:00.

We can sit for two hours,

and then I must change for early service.

How good it is to have you here!

You're my best friend.

Whatever would I do without you?

Last year I enjoyed Christmas.

This year all I wanted to do was cry.

I suppose I'm getting old.

Do you think I've aged?

You've grown older, yes.

I thought so.

Yes, I just wanted to cry.

Though I love having the grandchildren, of course.

I didn't think Oscar looked well.

He wears himself out with that theatre.

And the idea of him playing the ghost.

He should take it easy.

Besides, he's an awfully bad actor.

I wonder if Emilie realizes that he's weak and needs rest.

I think I'll have a word with her.

He's capable, of course. Capable and conscientious.

Can you believe the theatre even makes a small profit?

Isn't that splendid?

A few years ago I contributed a minimum of 50,000 kronor per year.

I didn't care, but Oscar felt so awkward asking me for money.

Not like Carl.

He asked me for a new loan, but I refused.

If he comes to you for money, you must say no too.

Promise me that. - Yes, yes.

I don't understand it.

Time and again I clear everything up for him.

After a year, he's in dire straits again.

He says he doesn't go to moneylenders.

- Do you know? - No.

And that poor German woman he's married to.

How could he have fallen for her?

It must be something erotic.

What do you think?

Erotic? Yes, perhaps.

- You're not listening. - Yes, I am.

Never mind. The main thing is that you keep me company.

Carl and Gustav Adolf are oversexed.

They take after their father. He was oversexed.

At times I thought it was too much of a good thing,

but I never refused.

Gustav Adolf is incorrigible.

I've spoken with Alma, and she wisely says

she doesn't mind his philandering,

because he's the kindest husband in the world.

It's fortunate that alma is so understanding.

Perhaps I ought to warn that nursemaid Maj, or whatever her name is.

I must say she's very pretty, and good with the children.

Beautiful colouring and a nice figure.

Pity she limps, the poor thing.

What you don't poke your nose into

you don't have to pull it out of, as grandma used to say.

- Are you asleep? - No, no.

Carl and Gustav Adolf got too much, and Oscar got nothing.

Imagine the tragedy for Emilie, who's such a warm-blooded young woman.

When she was pregnant with Fanny, she told me all about it.

Poor girl.

I have to say she's handled her affairs in a most tactful manner.

Oscar and Emilie are enormously fond of each other.

A happy marriage in spite of everything.

Are you sad because you've grown old?

I'm certainly not. Everything's getting worse.

Worse people, worse machines, worse wars...

and worse weather.

I'm glad I'll soon be dead.

You're an incorrigible old misanthrope and always have been.

- I don't agree with you. - I thought as much.

That doesn't stop me from crying.

Would you mind if I cry a while?

No, upon my soul, I can't. The tears won't come.

I'll have to have some more cognac.

What are you laughing at?

Do you remember when we sat there on the sofa kissing madly?

You had unbuttoned my blouse,

and something else too.

Then suddenly the curtain was drawn aside,

and there stood my dear husband.

It was just like a play by Feydeau.

I screamed and you made for the door.

He rushed off to get his pistol, with me hanging on his leg.

You became friends for life.

Your husband was a great-hearted man.

Now I'm weeping.

The happy, splendid life is over,

and the horrible, dirty life engulfs us.

That's the way it is.

This won't do.

I must wash up and redo my makeup,

do my hair and put on my corset and silk dress.

A weepy, lovesick woman turns into a self-possessed grandmother.

We all play our parts.

Some play them negligently, others with great care.

I'm one of the latter.

Good night, my lovely Helena.

You were a sweet lover.

Like strawberries.

You wanted me to help you with your morning toilet, Mrs. Ekdahl.

The time is ten to 5:00.

A cafe on castle street.

Your own cakes and pastries,

tarts and confections.

What do you say to that, little Maj?

You'd be in charge of it.

Just yesterday I said to alma,

"look at Maj. She's a princess."

What breasts you have, my girl.

Let me see properly.

You drive me crazy.

Don't be afraid, child.

I'm a wonderful lover. All the women say so.

Once you get me on my back, you'll forget about the cafe.

I swear.

Give me something to write on.

Come. Come over here.

Here's a pen.

Now I'll write:

"Maja kling...

is the proprietress of my cafe."

Signed, Gustav Adolf Ekdahl.

Christmas night, 1907.

There! That's a contract.

Stick it under a lawyer's nose if I forget my promise.

Be careful not to put me in the family way.

Well, what do you say? Aren't I nice?

Ever felt such a wooden leg?

Damnation! The rocket went off too soon.

Oh, well, it happens. Wasn't it wonderful?

You're a real Billy goat, sir.

And you're my little lamb.

I must lie on my back. I'm all in a sweat.

- I ate and drank too much. - You're not ill?

Not me! I feel like a bakery ablaze.

Or should I say cafe?

Iii? When I'm with such a tasty little morsel?

Sit on top of me.

Oh, you're impossible, sir!

Ride a rocking horse to Banbury cross

to see a fine lady on a white steed

what a glorious time we're having!

- My goodness, how your heart's pounding. - I've got a splendid heart.

Now you'll have to give me a new bed.

You'll have a cafe, an apartment,

beautiful furniture, and a big bed.

- And pretty clothes. - No one will be prettier.

You will be Gustav Adolf's mistress,

and I'll come see you every Wednesday and Saturday at 3:00.

How silly you are.

- What? - I said you're silly.

- Silly, am I? - You're a real numbskull.

I'm not a numbskull!

You are, for imagining I'd want anything from you.

Don't you want anything?

Don't you see I was joking?

Joking?

In what way?

Don't be angry.

I'm not, but I don't like being treated like an idiot.

- Stop laughing. - I think you're so funny.

I don't like being laughed at.

I can feel a cold coming on.

My throat hurts when I swallow.

My teeth are tingling.

It's freezing in here. Why isn't there any heat?

We don't have any credit with the wood merchant.

We owe 150 kronor. Das wei┈t du doch.

You haven't learned a damn bit of Swedish in 23 years.

Speak Swedish!

I do my best.

Last Tuesday I asked mama for ten thousand to sort out my affairs.

She took out a paper that said I owed her 37,000.

It's incredible.

- You'll have to go to the Jew. - I've already been.

I'm paying one hell of an exorbitant interest rate,

and if I don't pay on time, he'll show the iou to mama.

I have some jewellery.

Idiot.

That would be nice. Professor Ekdahl running to the pawnbroker.

Aren't you coming to bed?

I feel ill.

There was something wrong with the herring salad.

It tasted stale.

I'm sure mama saved it from Easter, the stingy hag.

You don't serve herring salad for Christmas, damn it.

Why did I marry you?

You're ugly, poor and barren.

You couldn't even give me a child.

You never make love to me.

- Ich sage aber nichts. - Speak Swedish.

Poor Carl. You're so unhappy.

If you weren't so anxious --

The dean scolded me. Said I'm neglecting my lectures.

I'm a scientist,

the only real scientist in the whole damn university.

But nobody cares.

Oh, my head.

I have a terrible headache.

And we have to go to that damn early service!

Coercion at every turn!

No, Carlchen!

Then you have to smile matter-of-factly, "dear mama, how beautiful you are.

You look like a young woman."

"Dear Emilie, I've never seen you play the Christmas angel so wonderfully."

"How is it, Oscar,

that you succeed in everything you do?"

How do you do that?

Come, Carlchen. Come and sit by me.

You smell bad.

Have you given up washing, or are you starting to rot?

No. I don't smell bad at all.

You have olfactory hallucinations.

It's bleeding.

- Shall I bandage it up? - No.

- Won't you try and get some sleep? - Yes.

I feel sorry for you, mein Carlchen.

How is it one becomes second-rate?

Can you tell me that?

How does the dust fall?

When has one lost?

First I'm a prince, heir to the kingdom.

Suddenly, before I know it...

I'm deposed.

Death taps me on the shoulder.

The room is cold...

and we can't pay for kindling.

I'm stupid and unkind.

And I'm most unkind...

to the only person who cares for me.

You can never forgive me.

I'm a shit and a cad.

If you'd like, I'll make you a hot toddy.

Don't be so damned servile!

Wipe your mouth. Your lips are always wet. It's disgusting!

I don't mean to be unkind.

I know that, mein liebling.

Oh, life!

Insomnia, poverty and humiliation.

Stretch out your hand and you grope in the emptiness.

Why am I such a bloody coward?

You have your amusements.

- That's enough, mein liebling. - Nothing troubles you.

I strike you and you kiss my hand.

I spit on you and you forgive me. You're repulsive!

I can't stand your love. I have to get away from you.

You'll have to go back to Munich. We're getting a divorce.

I want to finally be spared seeing you,

smelling you, listening to your damned gibberish.

I'll be spared your solicitude, your anxious eyes,

your cloying love.

When you're sad and unhappy, you always talk like this.

I don't care anymore. You know that.

I want to sleep.

Maybe I'll dream of a sweet-smelling female body...

with small breasts and narrow hips,

long legs...

dark hair and cheerful personality.

Her legs and arms are wrapped around me,

pressing herself against me.

We make love.

Her flesh is firm and generous.

Damnation!

Old age, prison, disgust!

No, Carlchen!

Stop! Stop it!

Don't touch me, damn it!

You know why I hate you so, mein liebchen?

You're a mirror image.

Kindness reflects kindness.

Mediocrity reflects mediocrity.

I see it contorting your face. You suffer, but you endure it.

That's the big difference,

I will never endure it.

Good night.

Well, Gustav Adolf.

- Good morning, papa. - Good morning, Petra.

Don't I get a kiss?

- Good morning, Gustav Adolf. - Good morning, alma.

Go and fry three eggs and some ham for papa,

and make two cheese sandwiches.

- What will you drink? - Beer.

Petra, you know where the beer crate is.

No, wait, I think there's some stout in the cupboard.

- Would you rather have stout? - Yes.

Don't stand there staring. We have to be at grandma's in an hour.

- How do you feel? - Cognac.

- I've put out your clothes. - Thank you.

And there's hot water if you want a bath.

That would be nice.

Hurry up now.

You're a damned handsome woman.

And you're a big shit.

- Come to bed. - I just did my hair.

We'll have a quick one standing up.

- Petra's coming with breakfast. - We'll lock the door.

Come on then, but make it quick.

- I don't think I can. - You can't?

No. There must be something wrong.

- You're not sick, are you? - I'm fit as a fiddle.

- Lie down on the bed. - Yes, I guess I could do that.

- Shall I bring in the breakfast tray? - Yes, please.

To think that I haven't killed you.

Now what do you say?

I wonder if it will be a cold day.

I think it'll be very cold.

My thermometer says 4* below.

Don't yawn at the table, Alexander.

Cheers, brother Carl.

I heard the Bishop will be saying the service today.

Really?

I can't help it. Your father's a bit nutty.

Excuse me.

Well, my friends, it's time.

THE SECOND ACT

THE GHOST REHEARSAL

My hour is almost come

when I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames

must render up myself.

Alas, poor ghost.

Pity me not,

but lend thy serious hearing to what I shall unfold.

Speak. I am bound to hear.

So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear --

What?

I am thy father's spirit.

Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,

and for the day confined to fast in fires

till the foul crimes done in my days of nature

are burnt and purged away.

But that I am forbid to tell

the secrets of my prison house

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

would harrow up thy soul,

freeze thy young blood,

make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres.

But this eternal blazon

must not be to ears of flesh and blood.

List, o list!

If thou didst ever thy dear father love...

o God!

Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

Murder!

Yes, murder!

Murder most foul, as in the best it is.

But this most foul...

strange --

- ...and unnatural. - Huh?

And unnatural.

Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift as meditation

or the thoughts of love, may sweep to my revenge.

Now, Hamlet, hear.

'Tis given out, that sleeping in my orchard,

a serpent stung me.

So the whole ear of Denmark

is by a forged process of my death rankly abused.

But know, thou noble youth -

the serpent that did sting thy father's life.

Huh? Did sting?

Thy father's life.

Did sting thy father's life

now wears his crown

o my prophetic soul! My uncle?

Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,

with witchcraft of his wit,

with traitorous gifts -

o wicked wit and gifts, that have the power so to seduce -

won to his shameful lust the will

of my most seeming-virtuous queen.

But soft!

Methinks I scent the morning air.

Mr. Landahl, shouldn't there be steps here?

Can somebody help Mr. Ekdahl down.

The steps were forgotten today.

Brief let me be.

Sleeping within my orchard my custom always of the afternoon

upon my secure hour thy uncle stole

with juice of cursed hebenon in a vial

and in the porches of my ears did pour the leperous distilment,

whose effect holds such an enmity with blood of man

that swift as quicksilver it courses through

the natural gates and alleys of the body

and with a sudden vigour it doth possess and curd,

like eager droppings into milk, the thin and wholesome blood:

So did it mine and a most instant tetter bark'd about

most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust

all my smooth body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand...

of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatched.

Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,

unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd, no reckoning made

but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.

Oh, horrible, most horrible!

If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.

Let not the royal bed of Denmark be

a couch for luxury and damned incest.

I've forgotten what I am to do.

You get up and exit upstage centre.

- Where am I? - Here... at the theatre.

Let's go home and rest.

What's happened?

You're tired, that's all.

Shall I call for the ambulance?

What am I doing here?

You were acting.

I was acting?

Why was I acting?

Come along, Oscar. Let's go home.

Am I going to die now?

Please help me.

I'll get a carriage.

He needs his overcoat.

Alexander, come along.

Come on.

Stop!

I said stop! Hey, you!

Take the cart behind you!

Come along, Alexander.

No.

No.

We know nothing yet.

Yes, let's hope so. Thank you for calling.

- How is our dear Oscar? - We can only hope.

- How is he? - It's a matter of hours.

- Is he in pain? - He sleeps most of the time.

Go see ester and Vega for hot chocolate and sandwiches.

I was over at the Gustavssons' and I met Mr. Albrektsson.

Just imagine, children.

This letter will go all the way to a mission in china.

Mr. Albrektsson told me his poodle had four puppies.

A friend of mine has lived there for 50 years.

He wondered if you'd like a puppy.

Mama won't let us have dogs or cats.

- We could keep it here. - Really?

- Yes. - Splendid.

Otherwise it'll be sold.

When I was in china, working in the fields with my friend,

we had a dog and three cats.

- Want to play again? - You take red, then.

Mr. Albrektsson makes lots of money on his dogs,

but he wants to give this puppy away.

He's wealthy in his own right.

It's his wife's money, dear ester.

Would you two like a molasses sandwich?

Yes, please, miss Vega.

There, the letter's finished.

Come, Fanny, and I'll let you lick the envelope.

- Would you like to borrow the flute? - No, thank you.

- You want to lick the stamp? - No, thank you.

You lick the stamp, then.

Thank you, sweetheart.

Leave me alone.

Come in.

Your mama asked me to come get you.

Let's put down the sandwiches.

Hurry up, Alexander.

Come, Alexander. Don't be afraid.

Come here, Alexander.

Come on.

I'll wait outside.

Come here, Fanny.

Tell Alexander there's nothing to be afraid of.

I'll tell him.

You needn't be afraid.

This is nothing to worry about.

I feel no pain.

I actually feel better than I have in a long time.

Don't be alarmed if I keep my eyes closed.

The light seems rather bright.

It doesn't matter if I close my eyes.

I could play the ghost now...

really well.

Nothing.

Nothing...

separates me from all of you.

Not now...

and not later.

I know that.

I see it...

quite clearly.

I'll be closer to you now...

than when I lived.

Now I'd like to look at Alexander.

Father says there's nothing to be afraid of.

Don't be childish now.

Try to be a good boy.

Take care of the theatre.

Mr. Sandblad will explain the business side.

Artistic matters you'll decide on your own...

as usual.

A simple funeral.

Don't forget.

Nothing Majestic in the cathedral...

with Chopin's "funeral march."

Promise me that.

Everything must go on as usual.

Everything must go on as usual.

I'll soon be dead.

Will you hold my hand?

Eternity, Emilie.

Eternity.

Fanny, wake up. You hear that?

My condolences.

Allow me to assure you

that my family and I feel the very greatest sympathy

in this difficult hour that has befallen you and your esteemed family.

It is our regiment's duty and honour,

in keeping with our proud tradition,

to be allowed to express our sympathy at the funeral service.

Allow me to kiss your hand in veneration and affection...

and venture so boldly as to offer all the support an imperfect mortal can.

Alexander, come out. The Bishop will be here any moment.

I don't give a damn!

Come out now. Don't be stupid.

My deepest sympathy.

My dear Emilie Ekdahl...

words are so inadequate.

Let's gather together.

Right foot.

It is with dismay that we gather around Oscar's bier.

A close friend has been taken, and we're left in distress.

We actors, who daily play with life and death,

should not be so upset,

but oddly enough, our dismay is greater --

...greater than others'.

The hour before he died, he was conscious.

He even laughed.

We spoke of practical things...

the children's future

and business matters.

We also spoke of our theatre.

Oscar said,

"everything must go on as usual, Emilie."

So we'll carry on as usual.

At Oscar's request, I'll take over management of the theatre.

We resume rehearsals tomorrow.

The premiere of Hamlet will proceed as announced.

That's everything.

We'll all do our best.

Thank you.

Dear Emilie.

Oscar will be proud.

I'm so happy for your sake, dear Emilie.

Cock, piss, shit, fart,

piss, hell, shit,

cock, fart, shit, piss,

fart, cock, cunt, damn, hell,

crap, ass, piss, cock, butt, pussy.

Siri, tell the children they may leave the table.

Yes, ma'am.

Did you hear something?

Alexander, wake up!

There's something out there.

THE THIRD ACT

BREAK-UP

When that I was and a little tiny boy

with a hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

A foolish thing was but a toy

for the rain it raineth every day.

Did you hear Emilie wants to talk to us after the performance?

Doesn't sound good.

No.

But when I came to man's estate

with hey, ho, the wind and the rain

'gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate.

For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas, to wive

with hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

By swaggering could I never thrive.

For the rain it raineth every day.

Emilie, you want to speak with us afterwards?

What is it about?

But when I came unto my beds

with hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

With tosspots still had drunken heads.

For the rain it raineth every day.

A great while ago the world begun

with hey, ho, the wind and the rain.

But that's all one, our play is done

and we'll strive to please you every day.

Well, that's that.

Better hurry up, you old ghost.

It's all a bunch of crap.

If you'd please sit down, I'd like to talk to you.

My husband died a year ago today.

He wanted us to go on as usual,

and we have gone on as usual,

though everything has been different.

We draw the theatre over our heads like a security blanket.

Our dressing rooms are bright and warm.

The stage enfolds us in friendly shadows.

Playwrights tell us what to say and think.

We laugh, cry and rage.

People sit there in the dark, kindly disposed towards us.

They're remarkably loyal,

though we often give them stones instead of bread.

Most of the time we're simply playing.

Almost always.

We play because we enjoy it.

And if we don't enjoy it, we sulk and blame the circumstances...

never ourselves.

That's how it is.

So I pass my life in wonderful self-deception,

with a keen eye for others' faults while glossing over my own.

I don't know what I really am,

as I never cared to find out the truth about myself.

But I do care about myself,

which is something different.

And I don't care about reality, either.

It's drab and uninteresting.

It doesn't concern me,

unless, in one way or another, it concerns the part I'm playing.

Are you tired of the theatre?

I think so.

- You want to quit? - Perhaps, and for good.

What will happen to us if you quit?

Even if I quit, everything will go on as before.

Who will be our manager?

We'll all decide that together when the day comes,

if it comes.

I haven't yet made up my mind.

Now I suggest we say good night.

Good night.

Come children. Let's change.

I need a drink and a sandwich.

Anyone care to join me?

I've received an offer from the Lindberg troupe,

so it's all the same to me.

What did I tell you?

I think there's something behind this.

- Haven't you heard? - You mean it's true?

Well, I'll be damned.

If music be the food of love, play on.

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting --

Come, Alexander. Stop fooling around.

Come on.

Good day, Alexander.

Please give my regards to your mother.

- You're gonna be sorry. - What do you mean?

You'll soon find out.

Hi.

What's wrong?

Someone wishes to talk to you.

The hot chocolate will have to wait.

- What have I done? - You know quite well.

- Good day, Alexander. - Good day.

We met once before.

Under sadder circumstances, when I officiated at your father's funeral.

Since then, your mother has turned to me with her worries, as is only natural.

I am a close friend of your grandmother.

I'm the spiritual guide of the parish.

The Bishop has been very good to me during this difficult time.

We've also spoken of you, my son.

I've told the Bishop how proud I am of my well-behaved children.

You and your sister are doing well at school, I'm told.

Diligent and attentive, and earning good grades.

Isn't that so, Alexander?

Don't be afraid. I'm your friend and wish you well.

You believe me, don't you?

But diligence and good grades are not everything in this world.

Blow your nose, Alexander.

That's filthy! Didn't Maj give you a clean handkerchief?

Yes.

Goddamn it all!

As I said, diligence and good grades aren't everything in this world.

Listen to the Bishop, Alexander.

I'm sure he is.

Isn't that so, Alexander?

You're anxious to know what I'm going to say.

You're a big boy now.

So I'll talk to you man to man.

Can you tell me --

Can you explain to me

what a lie is

and what the truth is?

You think that was a stupid question, and it probably was.

I was just kidding with you.

Of course you know what a lie is and what the truth is, don't you?

Splendid.

Splendid, my boy.

You also know why one lies.

Why does one lie?

Why does one lie?

Can you explain to me why one lies?

Because you don't want to tell the truth.

A very sly answer, my young friend.

But you won't get off so easily.

I asked you...

why does one not tell the truth?

I don't know.

We have plenty of time, Alexander,

and I'm so interested in your answer

that I'm prepared to wait indefinitely.

You may not believe that, but it's true.

One lies to gain an advantage.

Good answer, my boy.

Good and concise.

Forgive me if I ask another question, a bit more personal this time.

Can you explain to your mother and me why you lied at school?

What?

Your teacher has written to me,

saying that you've been spreading the most incredible lies.

Like what?

Sold to a circus!

Do you deny that you told your classmates

that I sold you to a travelling circus,

and that at the end of the semester

they're coming to get you?

You are to train as an acrobat and circus rider,

together with a gypsy your age named Tamara.

Your mother was both terrified and upset when she read the letter.

She didn't know what to do.

So I suggested I come over

and discuss these unpleasant problems with you.

And here I am.

You should be grateful to the Bishop for taking the time.

Do you understand, Alexander?

We've agreed that he who lies does so to gain an advantage.

So I ask, quite logically,

what advantage did you gain by stating your mother had sold you to a circus?

I don't know.

I think you do know...

but you're ashamed to answer.

You're ashamed, aren't you?

That's good, my son. Very good.

It shows you'll be on your guard

against further fabrications in the future.

Go to your mother and ask her forgiveness

for all the sorrow and worry you've caused her.

Go to your mother and ask her to forgive you.

You hear what I say, don't you?

I ask mother's forgiveness for lying, and I promise never to do it again.

Good, Alexander.

The matter is resolved and need never be mentioned again.

Imagination is a splendid thing,

a mighty force, a gift from God.

It's held in trust for us by the great artists,

writers and musicians.

I'll get Fanny.

Come, Alexander.

I have something important to tell you.

Edvard has asked if I will marry him.

I've accepted with gratitude and joy.

I've been alone for a long time,

and my children need a firm hand.

A father.

Of course, a great deal will be --

May God in his mercy take care of our little family.

Let us kneel down and unite in a heartfelt prayer.

May God our father in his mercy take care of our little family

and bless us and keep us from evil all the days of our life.

God give me strength

to be a guardian and a worthy example

to these little fatherless ones.

Give me strength as well to be a support

to this lonely young woman.

In the 15th century, when this house was built,

they didn't bother much about comfort.

My predecessors kept it all as it was, and I follow the tradition.

These old rooms have an imperishable beauty.

We should be grateful that we may live in an atmosphere of purity and austerity.

Ah, here come my mother and sister.

You're already here.

Welcome, Mrs. Ekdahl.

Thank you.

This is my sister Henrietta.

- Welcome to the Bishop's palace. - Thank you.

Come and say hello, children.

This is Mrs. Tander, our capable cook,

who's been with our family for 30 years.

This is my future wife, Mrs. Emilie Ekdahl.

Good day, Mrs. Ekdahl. Welcome.

These are our capable helpers: Karna, Selma and little Justina.

Now we'll go see my aunt, who, alas, is sick and bedridden.

How are you today, aunt Elsa?

We have a visitor.

Don't be afraid, children. Come and say hello.

My future wife, Mrs. Emilie Ekdahl, the famous actress.

Hello, miss Bergius.

The children have fallen asleep.

It's late and we must go home.

- Not yet. - What is it, Edvard?

I have a wish.

A single wish, but an important one.

You may change your mind if you find it impossible.

Tell me your wish.

I want you to come to my house without possessions.

What do you mean?

I want you to leave your home...

your clothes, jewels, furniture...

your valuables...

your friends, habits and thoughts.

I want you to leave your former life entirely.

Am I to come naked?

I'm serious, my dear.

I want you to come to your new life as if newly born.

- And the children? - The children also.

- Their toys, dolls, books... - Nothing.

- I must talk to them. - It's your decision.

I can decide for myself, but not for the children.

I must ask them.

They must sacrifice something for their mother's happiness.

You're angry.

Kiss me.

I'm not angry, not in the least.

I'll win them over.

Think it over, Emilie.

I've already thought it over.

For me it's not hard to grant your wish.

I've never cared for anything very seriously.

I've sometimes wondered

if there wasn't something very wrong with my feelings.

I couldn't understand why nothing really hurt...

why I never felt really happy.

I know now that the crucial moment has come.

I know that we'll hurt each other,

but I'm not afraid.

I also know that we will make each other happy.

And I sometimes weep from fear, because time is so short,

the days pass so quickly, and nothing lasts forever.

You say your God is the God of love.

It sounds so beautiful...

and I wish I could believe as you do.

Perhaps one day I will.

My God is so different, Edvard.

He's like myself,

amorphous and intangible.

I'm an actress. I'm used to wearing masks.

My God wears a thousand masks.

He's never shown me his real face,

just as I can't show you or him my real face.

Through you I'll come to know God's true nature.

Kiss me, now,

and hold me in your arms, as only you can.

I, Olof Henrik Edvard Vergerus...

take thee, Elisabet Emilie Josefin Ekdahl...

to be my wedded wife...

to love you for better and for worse...

and as a symbol of this love I give you this ring.

I, Elisabet Emilie Josefin Ekdahl...

take thee, Olof Henrik Edvard Vergerus,

to be my wedded husband...

to love you for better and for worse...

and as a symbol of this love I take this ring.

In the name of God the father, son and holy ghost.

Amen.

For as much as you have consented in holy wedlock

and have witnessed the same before God and this Christian gathering,

I hereby confirm, as Christ' servant,

this holy union.

I wonder if this is a good thing.

You saw how happy she was.

- I'm thinking of the children. - They'll get used to it, dear mama.

He's a devil of a lady killer, the Bishop is.

You don't know that for sure, Carl.

I don't know why I just want to cry.

They should have taken a honeymoon.

I invited them to our house in Provence,

but Emilie refused.

That's not so strange.

She has great respect for her new husband.

He's a handsome man, whatever you say.

- I expect he has false teeth. - Petra, don't be silly.

His mother was nice.

They say the sister's a bitch.

I've a feeling we'll have Emilie back...

quite soon.

Closed

the children don't appear to have an appetite.

Everything's new and strange to them. You must understand, Henrietta.

Perhaps they're turning up their noses at the food.

Let's be happy on our first evening together.

I have no desire to spoil it,

but in the future --

Yes, I might as well mention it now.

In the future no one may leave the table without having eaten up --

Dearest Henrietta, I'll tell my children what to do.

There's a basic rule in this house which no one must break,

not even you, dear Emilie,

and that is respect for the temporal gifts.

I think you've misunderstood an essential point, dearest Henrietta.

But I suggest we postpone this discussion to a more suitable time.

Forgive me, dear Emilie. I am forgetting myself.

I'm sure you're a more capable housewife than I.

I'll ask your advice in all things.

Edvard has admonished me a hundred times.

It's not easy to realize

one has become superfluous!

That will do, Henrietta.

Perhaps I may be allowed to share

that we are early risers in this house, both weekdays and Sundays.

At 6:00 we gather for morning prayers in Edvard's study.

I'd also like to mention that we make our own beds and tidy our rooms.

In this house, punctuality, cleanliness and order are the rule.

Don't be alarmed, children.

My daughter makes it sound worse than it actually is.

We'll start out very gently.

I'm not sure I understand.

If you mean to apply a new method of upbringing --

Not at all, dear Emilie.

I'm convinced that the children will soon realize

how fun it is to perform one's duties conscientiously.

It's all to be like a game.

My children don't care for that sort of game,

and neither do I.

Time will tell, dear Emilie.

Let us bring our hands together and thank God for this meal.

Thank you, dear lord, for what we have received,

and may we with generous hearts share our abundance

with those who hunger and thirst. Amen.

Justina, please show Fanny and Alexander to the nursery.

It's late and high time for young people to go to rest.

They're coming now. Into bed, both of you!

Now we'll say our prayers.

Thank you, God, for this day. Please make me good.

May your angel stay by me through the night.

God bless papa and mama and grandpapa and grand --

And uncle Edvard.

And uncle Edvard,

myself and my brothers and sisters and cousins, uncles and aunts,

Vega, ester, Maj, Siri, Berta, Alida, Lisen,

and uncle Isak and everybody else. Amen.

Good night, Alexander.

Justina, I'd like to speak to you about tomorrow.

What's that book you're reading, Alexander?

What's that book you're reading, Alexander?

Good night, my boy.

Good night, my child. God bless you.

Good night, uncle Edvard.

My dearest wish is for us to live at peace with one another.

Love cannot be commanded,

but we can show respect and consideration.

You go ahead, my dear. I'll come later.

Whose doll house is this?

Fifteen years ago, two little girls lived in this room.

They drowned in the river with their mother.

- Perhaps the house is haunted. - There are no such things as ghosts.

- Did they live in this room? - I think this was the nursery.

Good night. Sleep well.

I think we've got a terrible stepfather.

And the sister is crazy.

And that tub of lard that has to be fed.

I don't want to live here.

You have to give me time.

Much has to be changed.

Some things will go quickly, others will take time.

The main thing is not to lose heart.

Why did you marry the Bishop?

Because I love him.

Now let us sleep. Things will seem better when we're not so tired.

Don't play Hamlet, my son.

I'm not queen Gertrude,

your kind stepfather isn't the king of Denmark,

and this is not Ellsinore castle,

even if it does look rather gloomy.

Hell and damnation.

Come, Fanny. I'll show you something.

The windows are barred.

They can't be opened.

THE FOURTH ACT

EVENTS OF SUMMER

Is that you, old Isak?

How nice of you to call.

No, you're not disturbing me. I was just sitting with my eyes closed.

Sleeping? You know I never sleep.

Everyone's abandoned me.

It's the annual excursion to the outer cliffs.

Gustav Adolf doesn't change plans, even if it's raining cats and dogs.

When they left at 10:00, the weather was fine,

but clouds have gathered over the mainland.

There's not a soul here.

Won't you come out here for once?

Come now, don't be so stubborn.

You can't sit in your awful shop the whole summer.

You want me to come to you?

I've sat here three days with a sprained ankle.

I was playing hopscotch with Jenny, so I've only myself to blame.

I'm not complaining. I'm very comfortable.

What did you say?

There's such static on the line, I can't hear what you're saying.

It's thundering somewhere, but it doesn't seem to be coming this way.

Yes, exactly, my friend.

Actually I'm very worried.

No, we haven't heard anything.

Emilie only told us she'd be staying in town all summer.

This isn't good, Isak.

I feel sick when I think of that big house with its thick walls.

It's no place for children in the summer.

I can't hear a word you're saying.

It's hopeless.

Isak, can you hear me? You sound very far away.

I'm going to hang up now. I'll call you back in an hour.

I wonder if it isn't time for a little cognac.

Yes, I think it is.

- Good day, Mrs. Ekdahl. - Why, it's Maj! How nice.

Come in, dear child.

I hope I'm not disturbing you.

Not at all. Give me a kiss.

That's nice.

Very pretty. Did you make it yourself?

Yes.

A pretty pattern.

So you didn't go on the excursion?

No, I wouldn't fit in the boat with my big belly.

Nonsense.

- Is something wrong? - I'm silly to worry.

Let's sit here.

You're worried about the children?

Alexander and I agreed to write.

I've written seven letters.

And you've received no reply?

One postcard three weeks ago.

"Dear Maj. We are well.

Uncle Edvard took us to..."

the botanical gardens.

"We learned about rare flowers."

"Thank you for your letters. I'll write when I get some time.

Love from Alexander.

Fanny sends her love."

We mustn't underestimate Emilie.

She's perfectly capable of looking after her children.

We're worrying for no reason.

I came to the family before Fanny was born.

They're my children too.

You're going already?

I wanted to speak with you, since I knew you were alone.

Stay a moment.

Thank you for your kindness,

but I promised to have dinner ready when they came home.

I haven't put the steak in the oven yet.

Dear child, are things that bad?

Yes.

- Is it the cafe? - That too.

Has Gustav Adolf been pestering you?

I don't want to hurt him. He's so kind.

What worries me most is the children.

I'm sorry to be crying. I'm behaving badly.

Forgive me.

Supper time.

Then you are to go straight to bed.

The tray can be left until tomorrow.

Mrs. Tander sent some cookies for you.

I'll be upset if miss Vergerus finds out I gave these to you.

Hasn't mother returned?

No, your mother has not returned.

She said she'd be back this evening.

Oh, dear, I don't know what to say.

Why do you keep sighing like that?

I haven't been in this house long, thank goodness...

but Mrs. Tander, who's been here since the first wife,

could tell you a thing or two.

Would you like a cookie?

- Yes, thank you. - What does Mrs. Tander say?

That it was the same in the first wife's day.

Only worse.

- Poor children. - You mean us?

No, I don't mean you.

I mean the poor little ones who found their grave in the dark river outside.

Their mother tried to save them,

but she was pulled down by the current.

They found them later by the bridge.

They clung tightly to each other

as if they were one big body.

The arms had to be sawn off to get the bodies into separate coffins.

Mrs. Tander says that since then, it has never been quiet in this house.

There are no ghosts.

I don't mean to frighten you...

but this house does funny things to you.

Look at my hand.

Skin's been completely ripped off, stripped down to the flesh.

I was taking his grace his coffee.

When I grabbed the doorknob, the skin stuck and ripped off.

Someone laughed behind me.

I heard it clearly and turned around.

But there was no one there.

I feel sorry for anyone who --

I shouldn't chatter on like this.

I'll keep quiet.

I'll close the door now.

Don't worry.

Your mother will probably be back tomorrow,

and his grace will personally release you from captivity.

- I've seen them. - Who?

The woman and the children.

Is that the truth?

Are you telling the truth, Alexander?

Word of honour as a Swedish citizen.

Where did you see them?

I had been in the library with that man who married my mother.

He'd been lecturing me.

I don't remember why.

I was passing through the dining room...

and it was unusually bright.

Then I saw a little girl in the doorway.

She ran past me without a sound.

Then I saw the older girl,

with the dark hair and big eyes.

She stopped and looked at me

and motioned to me to turn around.

And there in the bright sunlight...

stood the woman in her black dress.

She said in a faint, almost inaudible voice...

not to be afraid,

that she had something to tell me.

What did she say?

I don't want to frighten anyone,

but these were her very words:

"I want you to know our secret.

Your stepfather, my husband,

locked me and my children in the bedchamber.

For five days and nights

he kept us without food and water.

In our misery

we decided to escape.

We tied sheets together and tried to climb down

to the finger of land sticking out into the deep, swirling water.

My daughters went first,

but they fell headfirst into the water

and were dragged under.

I tried to save them

but was sucked down into a black whirlpool that grabbed my clothes.

Underwater I grasped my children's hands

and drew them to me."

That's devilish.

Get to bed.

I said get to bed.

What time is it?

His grace has forbidden me to speak to you.

I'll be angry if you don't keep quiet.

Him and his stories!

Did you see that?

- The lightning struck. - It was nearby.

I hope the damn cathedral went to hell.

What if God punishes you for saying that?

If a big know-it-all like him punishes a runt like me for so little,

then he's just the dirty bastard I suspect he is.

Listen, he's playing the flute.

If we concentrate on him dying, then he will.

But we have to start together.

One, two, three:

Die, you devil!

- He's still playing. - Let's try again.

One, two, three:

Die, you devil!

Mrs. Tander wants to know if your grace will have supper alone.

Tell her I don't want any supper.

A glass of milk and a sandwich in my room will be sufficient.

Thank you, sir. I'll tell her.

Was there something else?

I don't know.

I don't know how to say it. It's so unpleasant. It might seem --

Well?

Sir, I can't stand here in the doorway.

Come in, then, and close the door.

You said I was to keep an eye on the children,

listen to their conversation and tell you of anything unusual.

Well?

Alexander made up a terrible story.

Really?

It was about --

Oh, it's so awful I don't know how to get it out.

He says you locked your first wife up,

and she was drowned with her children when they tried to escape.

- That's all, sir. - You can go.

Yes, Oscar, that's how it is.

One is old and a child at the same time.

What became of those long years in between

that seemed so important at the time?

I sit here growing melancholy,

thinking time was all too short.

Your father used to say I was sentimental.

He wasn't known as a particularly sensitive man.

He was both angry and indignant when he died.

He never thought life was cruel

or unfair

or beautiful.

He just lived and didn't care to comment. He left that to me.

And when I went on about life,

he laughed and called me sentimental.

But I was an artist.

As an artist, I had a right to be emotional.

Oscar, my dear boy.

I may be worrying for no reason,

but when you have nothing to occupy your thoughts,

you immediately start worrying.

May I take your hand?

I remember your hand as a child.

It was small and firm and dry.

And your wrist was so awfully slender.

I enjoyed being a mother.

I enjoyed being an actress, too, but I preferred being a mother.

I liked having a big belly,

and I didn't give two shakes about the theatre then.

It's all acting anyway.

Some roles are nice, others not so nice.

I played a mother.

I played Juliet and Margareta.

Then suddenly I played a widow or a grandmother.

One role follows the other.

The thing is not to shrink from them.

But what became of it all?

Can you tell me that, my boy?

You're a good boy

to listen to your old mother's soliloquies, as Isak calls them.

Yes, you're a good boy, Oscar...

and I grieved terribly when you passed away.

That was a strange role to play.

My feelings came from deep in my body.

Even though I could control them...

they shattered reality, if you know what I mean.

Reality has remained broken ever since...

and, oddly enough, it feels more real that way.

So I don't bother to mend it.

I just don't care anymore if nothing makes sense.

Oscar, my dear boy?

- Yes, mama. - Are you sad?

I'm worried.

About the children?

Yes.

Get up. Your stepfather wants to talk to you.

Get dressed. Your stepfather wants to talk to you.

Hurry up!

Who's there?

It's just me.

Alexander, my boy.

In the presence of your sister and Justina you have accused me

of having murdered my wife and children.

What?

Justina, please repeat what you told me.

Alexander said he had seen your first wife and children.

She spoke to him and said that the bishop

had locked them all up without food and water.

On the fifth day they tried to escape

but drowned in the attempt.

- Do you recognize the story? - No.

- So Justina has given false testimony? - She could have dreamt it.

Justina, are you prepared to confirm your statement under oath?

Yes, your grace.

Good, Justina.

Fanny, did you hear Alexander's story?

No.

So you maintain that Justina

was either lying or dreaming?

Yes.

Please come here, Alexander.

Are you prepared to swear to it?

Of course.

It's a mortal sin to swear falsely.

It's called perjury and is severely punished.

Really?

Lay your hand on the bible and say after me:

"I, Alexander Ekdahl...

swear by holy writ and by the living God...

that all I have said, say and will say...

is the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Alexander, my boy.

You remember that the two of us

had an important conversation about a year ago.

It concerned certain moral questions.

It wasn't really a conversation.

What do you mean?

The bishop spoke and Alexander said nothing.

And felt ashamed, perhaps, on account of your lies.

I've grown wiser since then.

You mean you lie better.

More or less.

I don't know what you imagine.

Do you think you can besmirch another person's honour with impunity?

Do you think you can lie

and get away with perjury without consequence?

Do you think this is a game, Alexander?

Or a play in which the children get to make up their lines?

I think the bishop hates Alexander. That's what I think.

Oh, so that's what you think.

I'll tell you something

that may come as a surprise.

I don't hate you.

I love you.

But the love I feel for you

and your mother and sister

is not blind and sloppy.

It is strong and harsh.

- Do you hear what I say? - No.

You're hardening your heart.

Moreover, you misjudge the situation.

- I am much stronger than you are. - I don't doubt it.

I mean stronger spiritually.

Because I have truth and justice

on my side.

I know you'll confess in a little while.

Your confession and punishment will be a relief to you.

You're a wise little man, Alexander.

You realize that the game is up...

but you are proud and stubborn...

and of course you are ashamed.

I've forgotten what I'm to confess.

Have you now.

What does the bishop want Alexander to confess?

You know I have means at my disposal.

I didn't, but I do now.

In my childhood, parents were not so soft-hearted.

They had the cane. I have one too.

It's an ordinary carpet beater, but it can dance a fine step!

If that didn't work, we had other effective means, namely castor oil.

There you see the bottle and a glass.

A few mouthfuls of this and you're more docile.

If that didn't help, there was a dark and cold cubby-hole

where you sat for a few hours until the rats started sniffing at your face.

Why must I be punished?

That is obvious, my boy.

You have a weakness in your character.

You can't distinguish lies from truth.

So far they are just child's lies, however dreadful they may be.

But soon you will be a grown man, Alexander,

and life punishes liars ruthlessly and indiscriminately.

The punishment is to teach you

a love of truth.

I confess I made it up about locking your wife and children in.

- Do you also confess to perjury? - I suppose so.

Now you've won a great victory.

A victory over yourself.

Which punishment do you choose?

Cane, castor oil or the dark cubby-hole?

- How many strokes of the cane? - Ten.

Then I choose the cane.

Take two cushions and put them on the table.

Pull your pants down.

Bend over.

Stand up.

- You have something to say to me. - No.

You must ask my forgiveness.

I won't.

Then I must cane you until you think better of it.

Can't you spare us both that unpleasant experience?

I'll never apologize.

You won't apologize?

No.

Bend over.

No more, please!

Will you ask forgiveness now?

Yes.

Button your pants and blow your nose. Lend him a handkerchief, Justina.

What do you have to say now?

Alexander asks the bishop for forgiveness.

Speak up. I want everyone to hear your regret.

Alexander asks the bishop for forgiveness.

For the lies and the perjury.

You do understand that I punished you out of love?

Yes!

Kiss my hand, Alexander.

- May I go to bed now? - Yes, you may.

But so that you may contemplate the day's events in peace and quiet...

you're to sleep in the attic.

Justina will provide a mattress and a blanket.

At 6:00 in the morning you will be let out. Understood?

Yes, your grace!

Helena, it's hardest on the children.

They're punished for the slightest misdeed.

His mother locks them up, puts them to bed in the middle of the day.

A week ago, Fanny refused to finish her porridge.

She had to sit there all night.

She threw up on the plate. At last she finished it.

He's mad with jealousy but doesn't realize it's mutual.

My poor Emilie.

How could I be so blind?

How could I feel compassion for that man?

I'm an actress. I should have seen through his pretence.

But I had lived practically alone since Fanny was born.

I hated my occasional emotional storms.

Oscar was my best friend.

You know that, Helena.

You know how fond I was of him,

how sincere my grief was

when he left us.

I don't blame you for anything.

I saw nothing, understood nothing.

He spoke to me of another life.

A life of demands,

of purity, of joy in the performance of duty.

I'd never heard such words.

There seemed to be a light around him when he spoke to me.

At the same time, I could tell he was lonely, unhappy...

haunted by fear and bad dreams.

He assured me I would save him.

He said together with the children we'd live in nearness to God.

In the truth.

The truth - that was the most important part.

I was so thirsty.

I know it sounds dramatic and overstrung, Helena...

but I thirsted for truth and felt I'd been living a lie.

I must go. A carriage is waiting at the gate.

I'm afraid something might have happened while I've been here.

I'm in constant fear that Alexander will say something to displease him.

Alexander is so foolhardy. I've tried to warn him,

but he can't see that his stepfather is a dangerous opponent

who's just waiting for the right opportunity to crush him.

You must leave him, Emilie.

I'm pregnant.

Nevertheless, you must --

Forgive me for interrupting.

I've asked him for a divorce.

He refuses.

I tell him that I'll leave just the same.

Then he explains in detail what will happen.

In a court of law, I'll lose on grounds of "desertion," as it's called.

The children will be taken from me, to be brought up by him.

I've written in secret to a friend of mine who's a lawyer.

He's confirmed what Edvard says.

I am shut in

and can no longer breathe.

I'm dying, Helena!

I hate that man so violently

that I could --

Don't mention that I've been here.

To anybody.

Mother.

Father.

If you're coming to visit...

please remember I'm scared of ghosts...

and that you're actually dead.

Don't sneak up on me from behind.

I might go mad from fear. You wouldn't want that, right?

I don't understand why I always have to see dead people

when it makes me sick.

Damn it!

Ah, hell!

My name's Pauline.

My sister Esmeralda is over by the crucifix.

- She's mad at you, Alexander. - Why?

She wants us to punish you.

Why do you look so surprised?

- You know very well why we're mad. - No, I don't.

You lied about our father.

You said he locked us up. That's not true.

The floodgates had been closed for several weeks,

and the river had frozen over.

We'd gotten new skates for Christmas.

But the ice broke, and we fell into the water.

Mother tried to save us, but the current dragged us under the ice.

Now you know the truth, wretched boy.

My sister and I thought we'd free our father

from you and your hatred.

We'll scare the wits out of you so you end up in the hospital,

locked in a cell, chained hand and foot.

Please, don't frighten me!

- Give me the key! - Edvard has forbidden it.

Give me the key now!

Edvard has forbidden it!

You're hurting me!

Emilie, you can't!

Carl, don't forget the cognac.

There's none left.

Take your damn paint box!

Listen to me.

I told you, there's none left.

- Alma, we're to go up to see grandmama. - What are you shouting about?

I'm just shouting!

Punch will do just as well!

The old girl's not here.

She's probably in the dining room.

Good evening, mama. We came to see how you are.

I'm splendid.

I hope you aren't lonely.

Lonely? I love being alone.

Vega was bitten by a wasp.

A wasp stings, my dear.

It has a stinger just like your old man.

Don't pinch me.

And Petra fell in the lake and got soaked.

Where shall I serve supper?

I don't want any.

- How's the wasp sting? - Not worth talking about.

And mama is busy with the old man's photographs.

How many thousands have you sorted by now?

Here's one of you and your brothers.

You couldn't have been more than five years old.

- You can already tell which brother... - Who is this beautiful woman?

Did it rain on you the whole time?

No, not at all, dearest mama.

Not a cloud over the outer islands,

but we saw the rain over the mainland, and heard the thunder

it's rained all day here.

This woman with the low neckline was one of papa's lady friends.

You're mistaken. We were at school together.

She married a count, had 12 children and became as big as a house.

I always admired your skilful way of handling papa's little adventures.

We must be going.

Mr. Ohman and his lovely wife are going to stop by.

I'm going into town tomorrow. Anything I can do for you?

Thank you, Gusten. I don't need anything.

But I'd like to talk to you about Maj.

What the hell is it now? She's got it good.

Now I'm damned angry - if you'll excuse me, mama.

Calm down, Gusten!

He loses his temper at the mention of Maj's name.

I just want to say --

You have to realize Maj is not your private plaything.

Thanks to alma's broad-mindedness, she's a member of our family,

and she's expecting my grandchild.

In your dictatorial way, you've decided her future.

I don't give a damn --

I don't like it when you swear in your mother's presence.

You hear me, Gusten?

I like the girl. I wish her well.

I want to ensure her future.

I don't want her to be dependent on the family's benevolence if I die.

She's accepted my suggestions.

She doesn't need any protectors, especially against me.

Stop your twaddle!

Don't make me out as a dictator! Maj has decided it all herself!

I like her.

I'm kind to her. Alma's kind to her.

Now I'm hurt, let me tell you. Damned hurt!

There's no reason to side with Maj against me!

I'm fond of her. Alma's fond of her.

She is loved in the same way as Jenny, Petra and Putte.

Well, not exactly in the same way, but almost.

She's good to me.

She doesn't think I'm fat and old and disgusting.

Nobody thinks that, by the --

I've a soft spot for the ladies. What's to be done about it?

That's nothing to giggle at.

Maj is to go her own way through life,

and I'm going to give her solid ground to stand on.

That's enough said about that.

The opera singer said he would stop by with his wife and children. Come now.

Good-bye, mama. Give me a kiss.

I don't want you and alma to sit gossiping about Maj's future.

I'll see to that!

Or rather, she will.

Good night, mama. Come, alma.

- I'll be back in a couple of hours. - Like hell you will! Come on!

Calm down or you'll have a stroke.

I am calm. You're the one who's shouting.

I want an end to all that gossip between you and mama!

Carlchen, you can't demand that I ask her.

Mama distrusts me and it's your fault. Therefore I can't ask her.

I don't see how I can say anything.

- Tell her I'm desperate. - You can tell her better yourself.

Make it clear I've been contemplating suicide.

Is that really true?

We can be poor together.

I will to work.

Idiot. Bonehead. Fool.

"I will work."

I'm sorry. I will work.

What do you want me to say, mein Carlchen?

Don't you have any imagination, you imbecile?

Say I look unhappy, that I've stopped eating,

that I lie awake at night.

Yes, you do lie awake with insomnia.

It damn well is insomnia!

Say that I've grown quiet, that I never laugh,

and when I do, it sounds dreadful. Understand?

Don't just come right out with it, damn it.

Lead her to suspect I've spoken of suicide.

Don't say that terrible word, or I'll start crying.

Stupid slut.

Do you think of suicide, mein Schatz?

Only when I look at you.

Why are you so cruel?

Don't go, Goddamn it!

Where are you going?

Why the hell are you leaving?

I won't talk to your mother.

I'm going home. Du bist bose.

I have to cry.

You don't understand that I love you.

Now I'm crying, and I won't be able to stop.

Dear God, my creator,

why must I go on acting in this wretched farce?

Lydia, stop!

Let me help you.

Oh, Goddamn it!

Just look at this.

Pick up your shawl.

Damn it all! My leg!

Grandma.

- Shouldn't you be in bed? - We sneaked out.

What will your mother say?

She won't find out. Unless grandma tattles, of course.

What do you want from your old grandma?

Welcome home, Emilie.

You were gone a long time.

We almost began to worry.

Mrs. Tander wonders if you'd like something to eat.

I'm not hungry.

I'll let her know.

- Will you be coming to bed soon? - When the children are asleep.

I'll be reading in the library. Please don't be long.

Good night, children.

We had actually decided

Alexander would sleep in the attic tonight.

But I understand that decision has changed.

Yes, it has.

Very well. Perhaps it's best.

- Good night, Fanny. - Good night, uncle Edvard.

Good night, Alexander.

Is he asleep?

No, I'm not.

Then you can also answer me when I bid you good night.

I can't.

You can't? What nonsense is that?

Alexander doesn't wish the bishop a good night.

You have a sense of humour. I like that.

Well, did you see your mother-in-law and relatives?

Was it a nice visit?

Did it rain? It rained and thundered here all day.

Well, a little moisture's good, at least for the farmers.

Alexander and I had a little review this afternoon.

The usual: He couldn't distinguish fantasy from reality.

But we clarified the concepts.

He's not stupid, that Alexander.

He's not stupid, but he's very unforgiving.

"Alexander doesn't wish the bishop a good night."

That's really priceless.

You're not saying anything. Are you mad about something?

You locked up the children.

A safety measure, Emilie. I wanted to guarantee you would return.

You abused Alexander.

You're so dramatic.

I punished him.

That's my duty as his guardian.

Besides, the punishment was mild in comparison to the offence.

He's bleeding, and the skin is broken.

I gave him a few lashes.

His buttocks will sting for a few days, but it's a healthy sting.

He'll think twice before fabricating new lies,

or fantasies, if that's the term you prefer.

And the humiliation?

Punishment given out of love can never be humiliating

in the deeper sense.

Love and respect have nothing in common,

and the language of love...

can be rather harsh.

You're one to speak of love.

You allow yourself to be contemptuous.

Shall we end this conversation

and go to bed?

You locked him in the attic.

Of course. He needed to be alone.

You know he's afraid of the dark.

The nights are bright this time of year,

and those with a clear conscience have nothing to fear.

I could kill you.

You'll harm the baby with thoughts like that.

Our baby will never be born.

Be careful of what you say.

You don't frighten me.

I must frighten you, Emilie.

But I do so with a heavy heart,

since I love you in spite of everything.

You're not strong, Emilie.

The pregnancy is draining your strength.

From now on you'll stay in a room

that we'll make as comfortable as possible.

Henrietta and my mother will take turns looking after you.

For the time being, your freedom will be somewhat limited.

But we must be very careful.

You should also know that the slightest attempt to rebel

or contact the outside world

will affect your children's welfare.

By being irresponsible, you've forced me to take responsibility,

not only for your children, but also for you.

It's a heavy burden.

I feel a terrible loneliness.

I'm an ordinary man with great faults,

but I exercise a powerful office

that always overshadows the person holding it.

A man becomes a slave to such an office, with no right to opinions of his own.

THE FIFTH ACT

DEMONS

Good day, Mr. Jacobi.

Good day, Miss Vergerus.

What is it?

Is His Grace --

He is not to be disturbed.

May I speak to his wife?

She is indisposed, resting in her room --

And not to be disturbed.

My mother is out and I am busy.

His Grace might be annoyed if --

What is this concerning?

Some months ago, His Grace proposed a business deal.

Really? I don't recall.

Of course not, miss Vergerus.

His grace is careful to spare his family such trivial worries.

What worries of his could concern you?

Please don't force me to be vulgar.

To be candid, Mr. Jacobi, I find you unpleasant.

I've neither the time nor the inclination to speak with you.

- Good-bye, Mr. Jacobi. - A pecuniary predicament.

I beg your pardon?

Your brother, His Grace, was in a pecuniary predicament.

- May I sit down? - Not there! There.

In a peculiar way - I don't know why -

I appreciate your straightforwardness.

And I do not appreciate your fawning.

What business do you have with my brother?

None at all, as far as I know.

I'm tired of your riddles.

Tell me what's on your mind and go.

I must speak to His Grace first. It's a matter of money.

A lot of money.

Does my brother owe you money?

On the contrary. It's like this:

In November His Grace wanted to borrow money.

Regrettably, Jews have certain principles, like never lending money to the clergy.

He suggested I should buy that chest for a reasonable sum.

I declined.

So you declined.

Foolishly so, since I've now changed my mind.

I'd like to buy that chest, and at almost any price.

Almost.

I will get my brother.

I told you not to disturb me.

Mr. Jacobi wants to buy the chest.

That man hangs on like vermin!

Stay where you are. I'll come get you in a few minutes.

Take your shoes off.

Forgive an old man's unfortunate weakness, your grace.

- You wish to buy the chest? - Yes.

For how much?

Here is the sum.

It seems you've changed your mind.

I may have an interested buyer.

- I'm being cheated, of course. - You're free to say no.

- Do you have you the money with you? - The money?

The money! Of course, your grace.

I have large bills right here.

Let me see.

Yes, here they are.

- Give me the money. - Of course.

If I may have your grace's name on the contract?

Forgive me if I retire.

I shall miss you, miss Vergerus.

Do not take anything that is not your due.

Suspicions recoil on those who harbour them.

Your grace will want to ensure that I'm not taking more than my due.

That's quite all right.

I just wanted to return the signed contract.

Please have a seat.

What would you say about that painting?

A beautiful and valuable work.

Would it interest you?

My resources are regrettably a bit strained at present.

- How is your wife? - It's kind of you to inquire.

She is indisposed. This sudden heat disagrees with her.

- May I pay my respects? - Unfortunately not.

I understand.

Here is a letter for her from old Mrs. Ekdahl.

- I shall give it to her. - You're too kind.

Filthy Jewish swine! You damned, filthy Jewish swine!

You thought you could cheat me.

You'll regret this, you repulsive, hook-nosed bastard!

Calm down!

That swine is trying to steal my children!

He can't. I have the key to the nursery.

Don't touch them!

Come on, quickly!

Come here.

First and foremost, let's have something to eat.

This is my nephew, Aron.

Let's go to the table.

I'd like to sleep.

Our guests are tired.

Have you tidied the room and made the beds?

I've done all you asked, uncle.

This is Aron's puppet theatre.

If you ask him nicely, he may give a performance.

Behind this door lives my nephew Ismael. He's sick.

The door must always be kept shut. Remember that, both of you.

Sometimes he sings, even at night.

It's nothing to worry about. You'll get used to it.

Mind the steps, Fanny, so you don't trip.

Now down this hallway.

It's a bit cold and damp,

because we don't dare light a fire or open the windows.

Straight ahead,

and then through that little door.

It's not so unusual.

This will be your home for the time being.

I hope you'll like it.

Go to bed now.

Good night, Fanny.

Good night, Alexander.

Lock the door at night and don't open it for anyone.

- Don't forget to say your prayers. - Don't go.

You want me to stay? Then I'll sit here.

I'll go and see to Ismael.

My name is Aron. Ismael is my brother.

Our parents died when we were small.

Good night.

What kind of book is that?

It's a book of stories, thoughts, words of wisdom and prayers.

It's written in Hebrew.

You understand that language?

- Shall I read you something? - Yes, please.

Uncle Isak?

Are you sure His Grace can't come and get us?

You can put your mind at ease.

Come on, read.

It may be a bit choppy, since I have to translate.

A young man journeys down an endless road

in the company of many others.

The road leads across a rocky plain where nothing grows.

The sun's fire burns from morning to evening.

They can't find shade or coolness anywhere.

A harrowing wind stirs up huge dust clouds.

The youth is driven forward by an incomprehensible anxiety...

and tormented by a scorching thirst.

Sometimes he asks himself or one of his travelling companions

about the goal of their pilgrimage.

But the answer is uncertain and tentative.

He himself has forgotten why he ever set out on his journey.

He's also forgotten his native land...

and the journey's final destination.

Suddenly, one evening he finds himself standing in a forest.

Dusk sets in and all is quiet.

Perhaps the evening wind sighs through the tall trees.

He stands amazed...

but also anxious and suspicious.

He's all alone...

and he discovers his hearing is weak,

since his ears are inflamed from the merciless light of day.

His mouth and throat are parched from the long pilgrimage.

His lips are cracked,

pressed together around curses and harsh words.

So he doesn't hear the ripple of flowing water

and doesn't notice its reflection in the dusk.

He stands deaf and blind at the edge of the spring...

unaware of its existence.

Like a sleepwalker he wanders unaware between the sparkling pools.

His blind skill is remarkable, and soon he's back onto the road...

in the burning, shadowless light.

One night by the camp fire he's seated near an old man

who's telling some children about the forests and springs.

The youth recalls what he's been through,

but faintly and indistinctly...

as in a dream.

He turns to the old man, sceptical yet courteous, and asks,

"where does all this water come from?"

"It comes from a mountain whose peak is covered by a mighty cloud."

"What kind of cloud?" the youth asks.

The old man answers,

"every man carries within him hopes, fears and longings.

Every man shouts out his despair or bears it in his mind.

Some pray to a particular God.

Others address their cries to the void.

This despair, this hope...

this dream of deliverance, all these cries, all these tears

are gathered over thousands and thousands of years...

and condense into an immeasurable cloud around a high mountain.

Out of the cloud rain flows down the mountain...

forming the streams and rivers that flow through the great forests.

That's how the springs are formed where you can quench your thirst...

wash your badly burnt face...

cool your blistered feet.

Everybody has at some time heard of the mountain, the cloud and the springs...

but most people anxiously remain on the dusty road

in the blazing light."

"Why do they stay there?" Asks the youth in great astonishment.

"I certainly don't know," replies the old man.

"Perhaps they've convinced themselves and each other

that they'll reach their unknown destination by evening."

"What unknown destination?" Asks the young man.

The old man shrugs his shoulders.

"In all probability the destination does not exist.

It's deception or imagination.

I myself am on my way to the forests and the springs.

I was there once when I was young...

and now I'm trying to find my way back.

It's not easy, let me tell you."

The next morning the youth set out with the old man

to seek the mountain, the cloud, the forests and the rippling springs.

Shall we have a seat?

- May I tempt you with a glass of sherry? - No, thank you.

No.

- An almond cookie? My sister's specialty. - No, thank you.

Not that either.

I want the children back.

This is a small town, and tongues will soon be wagging.

I fear you've misunderstood the reason for our visit.

We're here on behalf of the family

to ask that you set Emilie and the children free.

We can't say with certainty that we know what has occurred.

We only know that our dear Emilie is extremely unhappy

and that the children hate the Bishop's palace.

We certainly understand

that divorce is a painful step

for a highly placed servant of the church,

and we'd like to make appropriate compensation

for your painful loss.

I've spoken with my mother,

and we're ready to place a considerable sum at your disposal,

which you may, of course, use...

for charity, a foundation,

or some other purpose close to your heart.

We agree that everything must be handled with utmost discretion,

and my mother is willing to take Emilie and the children to Italy

and remain there for at least a year.

Let me first say that I fully appreciate

the respect and generosity the Ekdahls extend to me in this difficult hour.

At the same time, it's necessary, though painful,

for me to speak very clearly.

The children have been abducted from their home.

They must unconditionally and without delay be returned to their legal parents.

Every delay will cause all of us -

not least their mother -

unspeakable suffering.

When the children are returned, I'll be prepared to listen

to any proposals the Ekdahl family may have.

But to avoid any further misunderstandings...

I must make it clear that a divorce...

is absolutely out of the question.

I'm very grateful for your precise and clear standpoint.

But I'm obliged to mention that the children will never...

be returned to the Bishop's palace to be subjected to the suffering

that up till now has befallen them.

Perhaps I should add that on this point

the Ekdahls are in complete agreement.

The matter is therefore not open to discussion.

The children are part of our family,

and we therefore consider ourselves responsible for their well-being...

and development.

It grieves me...

that the Ekdahl family should be dictating conditions.

Especially since, as their stepfather, I have the law on my side.

And furthermore, as a representative of the church,

I have the moral advantage.

But we have the children, my dear brother.

I'm glad you're able to laugh in this awkward situation.

Perhaps legal proceedings and police action will be unavoidable.

I doubt it, my dear Edvard.

You'd rather shit in your pants than suffer the disgrace

of the parish hags whistling through their false teeth.

You may well have morality and the law on your side, old man,

but bear in mind that I'm in league with immorality,

and even were you to win in court,

we who side with immorality

will have spread so many credible rumours about your person,

your way of life, your household,

your sister, your servants,

your sanity, your sexual excesses,

your phoney hair, your hypocrisy, your hypochondria,

and your lack of decency that you'll be forever forced to preach

to Huguenots, hooligans and Eskimos!

I'm not saying this to frighten you, my esteemed friend.

I only wish to lay all the cards on the table.

So let me see you listen to reason.

If you have any, that is.

Your clownish antics are amusing.

I'd be inclined to laugh if your babble didn't contain

what I would call a real and material threat.

Let me tell you something,

my fine lord Bishop,

something you might not understand.

I can see through you.

You're a cad of monumental proportions!

Shut up, Gustav Adolf! Think of your blood pressure!

I must apologize, my dear Edvard.

Even if we have differing views in what seems to be an irresolvable conflict,

we must behave like civilized beings.

I disassociate myself entirely from Gustav Adolf's expressions and attitudes

and assure you that he represents no one but himself.

He certainly does not voice the family's opinion.

My esteemed brother must forgive me.

A thousand apologies.

I'm a boor - at least that's what my wife says.

I have no eye for people's inner qualities.

I drink too much. I'm embarrassed. I apologize.

We'll say no more about it.

I'm prepared to listen to an honest man's honest opinion,

even if he is a bit...

brusque.

A glass of sherry? I assure you it's quite good.

Thank you very much.

I'm awfully sorry.

I'm so fond of that silly Emilie, that silly little creature.

We love her. The whole family loves her. Isn't that so, Carl?

And when our brother Oscar died, we didn't care for her sufficiently.

We have much to blame ourselves for.

One can be so damned slack and self-centred.

I said that to Alma this morning.

If we hadn't been so slack and self-centred,

this would never have --

I don't think we can reach an agreement under present circumstances.

Let us consider our confidential and frank conversation

as a cautious exploration.

I fear I do not share your cautious optimism.

I consider our negotiations terminated...

and feel compelled to make my standpoint quite clear.

The children must be returned to their home within 12 hours.

Otherwise I'll be forced, though it conflicts with my principles,

to report the matter to the police and the public prosecutor.

Is it conceivable that if the children were returned,

we could begin informal talks about their future relations with us?

I'm a believer in firm rules and principles...

a fact that in no way conflicts

with my sincere and passionate love of freedom.

May I understand your statement

as an indirect promise of future discussions

regarding the sensitive question of Emilie's and the children's

freedom of movement?

Disintegration in our lives...

is due in large part to broken ties between people...

who otherwise have the capacity to respect and love each other.

A cruel and incomprehensible mystery.

To think that a man like me,

almost 220 pounds,

with a fully grown beard and a developed mind...

should have to sit here on this silly, uncomfortable chair

and listen to this unmitigated hypocrite.

"Disintegration in our lives!"

Kiss me where my back changes its name!

You shut up, Carl. Shut up!

While I tell this spiritual masturbator

what we have up our sleeves.

Listen to me!

I'll tell you something, Edvard Vergerus.

I've acquired your promissory notes.

You didn't know that, did you?

Yes, my friend.

110,000 kronor in debts.

So I'll be dictating conditions now.

Turning pale now, are you?

The holy man's looking pale, eh, Carl?

I'd say his nose even grew a bit too.

You're a special kind of bully, Edvard Vergerus.

One thing I've learned in my profession is to recognize the smell of a bully,

even if he wears a cassock.

And I know how bullies should be treated.

They must be bullied!

Emilie is to have her divorce,

or I'll declare his holiness bankrupt!

Idiot.

What?

I said idiot. You're an idiot.

I thought it honourable to tell him he doesn't have a chance.

I get so tired of you sometimes, Gustav Adolf.

Really? What stupid thing have I done now?

You'll soon see.

A moment ago we spoke of the advantage of putting our cards on the table.

I beg to return to that metaphor shortly.

To Mr. Ekdahl I'd like to say...

that I pity him.

He has a poor opinion of the world and a simplistic view of people.

He suffers from the widespread misconception

that man is ruled by his needs.

He believes that everything can be bought and sold.

Mr. Ekdahl is the son of one of the country's greatest artists.

Despite this he has grasped little or nothing...

of the spirit's unlimited power

over matter.

He is a wretched caliban,

groping with clumsy hands for his dull tools.

I pity him and feel sincere compassion for him.

My esteemed Carl, I thank you for a respectful and dignified conversation.

I regret we have not come to an agreement.

Try sometime to tell your brother --

No, he would never understand...

that there are people who have no needs...

who are indifferent to money...

who dismiss the world's luxuries,

who happily allow themselves to be slandered

because their conscience is clear

before God the almighty.

Now, to return to our game of cards, which Mr. Ekdahl spoke of so wittily.

Allow me to play the last card.

Excuse me for a moment.

That man is the devil himself!

Have you ever seen such a cold-blooded scoundrel?

If you hadn't behaved like an idiot.

I admit it, and I'm sick about it.

No, that's not the word. I'm terribly sorry.

- Be quiet, he's coming. Shut up! - I'll shut up.

Dear, dear Gustav Adolf.

Dear Carl.

I can't begin to express my gratitude for your care and affection,

but unfortunately you've misunderstood.

Isak Jacobi took it upon himself to abduct the children.

It's terrible and unbelievable.

It's nice and safe here.

Edvard is good to us, and we're very happy.

I implore you with all my heart

to bring back my children.

It's true that I've been anxious and unhappy.

It's true that I went and talked to Helena.

It's true the children had difficulty adjusting to their new surroundings.

It's true we live a stricter and more serious life than at home.

But I'm happy and safe.

Edvard is goodness itself.

You must believe me.

I implore you with all my heart:

Bring back my children!

I cannot live without them!

Dear friends, do as I say.

It's all a terrible misunderstanding.

Farewell, gentlemen.

I have to pee.

Damn, there's no chamber pot.

It won't be easy to find the toilet in the dark.

I hope there aren't any ghosts.

Damn, I think I've lost my way.

Now I'm lost for sure.

It's not my fault it's all gone wrong.

I can't leave you. I just can't.

It would be better if you'd take off for heaven.

You can't help us anyway.

I lived my whole life with you children and Emilie.

Death makes no difference.

What is it, Alexander?

Why can't you go to God and tell him to kill the Bishop?

Or doesn't God give a damn about you, or any of us?

Have you even seen God on the other side?

Not a bastard has a thought in his head.

Idiots, the whole bunch of 'em.

You must be gentle with people.

Aren't you coming to bed?

The clock has struck 4:00.

I can't sleep.

Neither can I.

Elsa's very sick. We ought to send for the doctor.

He's coming in the morning.

- What are you drinking? - Hot broth.

- It helps against insomnia. - May I?

Be my guest.

Can't you forgive me?

I'm staying with you, aren't I?

I don't understand this sudden yielding.

Drink while it's hot.

- You insist that the children return? - Yes.

In that case, it's hopeless.

I don't care if it's hopeless. I care only for what is right.

Isn't that Elsa calling?

Stay here. I'll see to her.

Can I help you, aunt?

It's so dark.

What time is it?

Almost half past 4:00.

It's been a long night.

Try to get some sleep.

My legs hurt.

They're swollen and aching.

I've heard the universe is expanding.

Heavenly bodies are hurtling away from each other at a bewildering rate.

The universe is exploding,

and we find ourselves at the very moment of explosion.

You once said you were always changing masks...

until finally you didn't know who you were.

I have only one mask.

But it's branded into my flesh.

If I tried to tear it off --

I always thought people liked me.

I saw myself as wise, broad-minded and fair.

I had no idea...

that anyone could hate me.

I don't hate you.

No, but your son does.

I'm afraid of him.

Who's behind the door?

It is God behind the door.

- Can't you come out? - No living being may see God's face.

- What do you want? - To prove that I exist.

This is the end of me.

Shall I show myself?

Now you will see me.

Here I come, Alexander.

- Admit you were scared. - I wasn't a damned bit scared.

"This is the end of me."

Ouch! That hurts.

Don't cry.

I didn't mean to scare you. At least not that much.

I've been working all night on this puppet.

A rich circus owner in England is mad about our puppets.

I heard you tiptoeing around.

Hear that? My brother Ismael is awake.

He's singing.

Poor Ismael.

Human beings are more than he can bear.

Sometimes he gets furious. Then he's dangerous.

Doctors say his intelligence is light-years beyond normal.

He reads continuously.

He's incredibly learned and knows everything by heart.

You said you'd been up all night, but I saw you asleep.

There are many strange things that can't be explained.

You realize that when you dabble in magic.

- Have you seen our mummy? - No.

Come.

Look carefully, Alexander.

Can you see it breathing?

It's been dead 4,000 years, but it breathes.

I'll make the room dark.

- What do you see? - It's shining.

Exactly.

No one knows why it's luminous.

No one can explain why.

The unknown makes people angry.

It's better to blame it on mirrors, machines and projections.

Then people laugh,

and that's healthier from all viewpoints,

especially financially.

Watch carefully now.

My father and mother ran a magic theatre in St. Petersburg.

One evening, in the middle of a performance...

a real ghost appeared.

It was my father's aunt, who had died two days earlier.

The ghost lost her way among the machines and projectors.

It was a fiasco, and father had to refund the tickets.

- I know quite a bit about ghosts. - Do you?

Uncle Isak says we're surrounded by different realities,

one on top of the other.

There are swarms of ghosts, spirits, phantoms,

souls, poltergeists, angels and demons.

He says the smallest pebble has a life of its own.

- More coffee? - Yes, please.

Everything is alive,

and everything is God or God's thought.

Not only good things, but the cruellest too.

What do you think?

If there is a God,

then he's a shit, and I'd like to kick him in the butt.

Your theory is very interesting

and appears to be justified.

Shall we take Ismael his breakfast?

For my part, I'm an atheist.

If you've been raised as a magician and learned all the tricks since childhood,

then you can do without supernatural interference.

As a magician, I create the believable.

The audience provides the unbelievable.

You're definitely no idiot, Alexander, especially considering you're only nine.

- I'll be eleven in November. - Here.

I've brought your breakfast.

Your sister gave me sleeping pills for my insomnia.

I had put three in the broth.

I didn't mean for you to drink it.

When you went to see Elsa, I put in three more.

You will sleep soundly.

When you wake up, I will be gone.

I'm going back to my children...

to my home...

and my family.

I'll change and you'll come back.

I'll never come back!

I'll poison your life!

I'll follow you from town to town!

I'll ruin your children's future!

Poor Edvard, you don't know what you're saying!

I am awake!

I'm horribly awake.

Help me into bed at least.

I can't see anymore...

and I feel dizzy.

Are you there? I can't see.

Ismael, I've brought your breakfast.

Good morning, Ismael.

This is Alexander Ekdahl, a friend.

Leave us alone, Aron.

Don't worry. I won't eat him...

even if he does look appetizing.

You can come back in half an hour.

- Go now, Aron. - Uncle Isak...

Uncle Isak is an old goat and

needn't know of Alexander's visit.

Go now.

No, thank you.

My name is Ismael, but you already know that.

"And he will be a wild man.

His hand will be against every man,

and every man's hand against him."

I'm considered dangerous. That's why I'm locked up.

Dangerous in what way?

Write your name here.

The pencil's pretty dull, but it should still serve.

There, Alexander Ekdahl.

Now read what you've written.

It says "Ismael Retzinsky."

Perhaps we're the same person, with no boundaries.

Perhaps we flow through each other,

stream through each other boundlessly and magnificently.

You bear such terrible thoughts...

it's almost painful to be near you.

Yet it's also enticing.

- Do you know why? - I don't think I want to know.

You've heard of making an image of someone you dislike

and sticking pins in it?

It's a rather clumsy method

when you think of the swift paths an evil thought can travel.

You're a strange little person.

You won't speak of that which is constantly in your thoughts.

You're thinking of a man's death.

Wait a moment.

I know who you're thinking of:

A tall man with fair, greying hair.

Correct me if I'm wrong.

He has clear blue eyes and a boyish face.

Correct me if I'm wrong.

He's asleep and dreams he's kneeling at the altar.

Above the altar hangs the crucified prophet.

In his dream he gets up and cries out,

"my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

There is no answer,

not even a laugh.

Don't talk like that.

It is not I talking.

It is yourself.

You are not to hesitate.

He's sound asleep, plagued by nightmares.

Give me your hands.

It isn't really necessary, but it's safer.

The doors will be thrown open.

A scream will echo through the house.

- I don't want to. - It's too late.

You have only one way to go, and I am with you.

I obliterate myself.

I merge into you, my child.

Don't be afraid. I am with you.

I'm your guardian angel.

It is 5:00 in the morning, and the sun has just risen.

The doors are thrown open.

No, wait.

First a horrible scream echoes through the house.

A shapeless burning figure moves across the floor,

screaming.

I don't want to.

Let me go! Let me go!

The police are here and insist on speaking to you.

Honoured, Mrs. Vergerus.

It is my painful duty,

as the town's ranking administrator of justice,

to have to inform you of the terrible circumstances

surrounding your husband's horrible death.

Furthermore, according to the law of the land,

and in the presence of this witness, chief inspector Jespersson,

I must conduct a short and, I assure you,

in all respects formal interrogation,

for which I beg your forgiveness.

Your husband,

His Grace the Bishop,

lost his life this morning under terrible circumstances.

May I, madam?

We think we've been able to determine the course of events.

Miss Elsa Bergius, who was gravely ill, lay in bed.

On her bedside table stood a lamp.

By some unfortunate accident, the lamp fell on the bed

igniting her nightgown, hair and bed linens.

Blazing like a torch, she ran through the house

and by chance made it into the Bishop's bedchamber.

According to His Grace's sister, miss Henrietta Vergerus,

he was in a heavy sleep

from a soporific

you had given him earlier that night.

After a heated quarrel with your husband,

you left the house

at 4:20 a.m.

Miss Bergius flung herself on him,

igniting his bedclothes and nightshirt.

His grace woke up and succeeded in freeing himself

from the dying woman who was still ablaze.

But he could not extinguish the flames

that were now engulfing him.

Old Mrs. Vergerus found her son

with his body burnt and face charred.

He showed faint signs of life and said he was in unbearable agony.

Ten minutes later, the doctor and ambulance arrived on the scene,

but by then His Grace had already been released from his suffering

and had taken his last breath.

Although I can't overlook the fact

that the sleeping aid you gave him possibly made the disaster worse,

I also cannot attach any serious importance to it.

Therefore, I must characterize the event as an ill-fated coincidence

of extremely unfortunate circumstances.

Therefore I beg

to extend to you

my deepest, most sincere condolences.

Come, Jespersson.

Madame, I had the honour to wait upon you yesterday,

but your maid showed me the door with an offensive message.

Monsieur le marquis, I blush at your presumption

and can only deplore the fact that my servants this morning

were unable to show you the door once again.

You say that you love me, sir.

In that case, be so kind as to spare me your presence,

because, frankly, it does me only harm,

not to mention the anger over the embarrassment you caused me

in the presence of her Majesty the queen.

Marquis, to what do we owe the honour of such an early visit?

- Count! - Marquis!

Only the thought of the blood you have shed for your king, sir,

prevents me from instantly and with all my power

throwing back in your face...

The infamy you have committed against the marquise --

The infamy you have committed against the marquise.

It's not enough this is the worst rubbish ever written in the French language.

In addition, the translation is terrible, Mr. Landahl.

I'm telling you honestly, even though I know you've gone to great trouble.

I know it was done in haste, Mr. Morsing,

but we find ourselves in a crisis.

In the past we performed Shakespeare and the great Moliere.

We were even so bold as to let Henrik Ibsen's voice be heard.

Public taste, Mr. Morsing.

They no longer wish to hear the songs of giants.

They're content with the tunes of dwarfs.

No one cares about our theatre, neither the public nor the Ekdahl family.

Funds are running dry.

Our actors fare badly.

Hanna.

Emilie dear.

Now you'll stay with us, won't you?

I don't know why I'm so damned moved.

Dear Mrs. Ekdahl.

I'm at a loss for words.

Now everything will be right again.

Dearest Emilie.

Welcome back.

Thank you.

My dear, dear friends.

I am more moved than I can say.

Dear friends...

dearest mama...

my most beloved wife, Alma...

my darling Emilie, more beautiful than ever.

My wonderful children, Petra,

Jenny and Putte,

and little miss Helena Viktoria,

lying so peacefully in her bed.

And dear Maj...

of whom I'm very fond.

And not forgetting my incomparable brother Carl,

and his sweet wife.

My most honoured friend,

Isak Jacobi,

who has rendered immeasurable service to this family.

Dear Vega and Ester,

and you good friends who faithfully help us up the hill of life.

Last, but not least

dear and admired,

greatly talented and brilliant artists,

if I could I would encompass you all in one big embrace

and plant a kiss on your brows.

A kiss which, more than words,

would tell you of my happiness and love.

Cheers, everyone!

Just imagine: We're all together again!

Our little world has closed around us in safety,

wisdom and order.

After a period of fear and confusion...

death's shadows have been routed,

winter has been put to flight, and joy has returned to our hearts.

Now I must have a look at little Helena Viktoria.

She's laughing at me, my daughter Helena Viktoria.

Now for a speech.

Go on, laugh at your old father.

Never mind what he says. It's only nonsense.

My wisdom is simple.

There are those who despise it, but I don't give a damn --

Forgive me, mama. I noticed you raised your right eyebrow.

You think your son is talking too much. Don't worry. I will be brief.

Therefore... and consequently...

we Ekdahls have not come into the world to see through it.

Never think that.

We are not equipped for such excursions.

We might just as well ignore the big things.

We must live in the little world.

We will be content with that

and cultivate it and make the best of it.

Suddenly death strikes.

Suddenly the abyss opens.

Suddenly the storm howls, and disaster is upon us.

All that we know.

But let us not think of all that unpleasantness.

We Ekdahls love our subterfuges.

Rob a man of his subterfuges and he goes mad and begins lashing out.

Damn it all, people must be intelligible!

Otherwise we don't dare to love them or speak ill of them.

We must be able to grasp the world and reality

so we can complain of their monotony with a clear conscience.

Don't be sad, dear splendid artists.

Actors and actresses, we need you all the same.

It is you who must give us our supernatural shivers,

or better yet, our innermost diversions.

The world is a den of thieves and night is falling.

Evil breaks its chains and runs through the world like a mad dog.

The poison affects us all,

us Ekdahls and everyone else.

No one escapes,

not even Helena Viktoria or little Aurora.

So it shall be.

Therefore let us be happy while we are happy.

Let us be kind, generous, affectionate and good.

It is necessary, and not at all shameful...

to take pleasure in the little world.

Good food...

gentle smiles...

fruit trees in bloom, waltzes.

My dearest friends, I'm done talking,

and you can take it as you like:

The sentimental ramblings of an uneducated restaurateur

or the pitiful babbling of an old man.

I don't care.

I hold a little empress in my arms.

It's tangible yet immeasurable.

One day she will prove everything I just said wrong.

One day she will not only rule the little world,

but everything.

Everything.

You still sitting there?

Aren't you going to bed?

Now we'll have champagne.

We will, will we?

Well, I'm going to bed.

- We're supposed to have champagne. - Don't forget your jacket.

Yes, colonel!

There, there, my child.

Be a good girl now, so that mama can go to bed.

I think you've finished eating, in any case.

- I'll take her. - Thank you, Rosa.

- How do you like it here? - Everyone's so kind.

Especially Mr. Ekdahl.

He must be a real friend of humanity.

That he certainly is.

He's particularly kind to young girls, so you watch out, Rosa.

Oh, my!

- Good night, madam. - Good night, Rosa.

We're going to have champagne.

If you're a good boy, I'll bring you a beer and sandwich in bed.

I'm sure Emilie will want a glass of champagne.

We'll raise a toast to our daughters.

Go to bed now, Gusten.

I'm so damned happy!

That's nice, Gusten, but you'll have a headache tomorrow.

Imagine: We're together again.

I'm going to the country tomorrow to speak with the workmen.

Do you need anything taken care of?

- I'll be there until Thursday. - I'll come on Tuesday.

Don't you think I have the best wife in the world?

Much better than you deserve.

And the world's prettiest little mistress.

A real darling.

- Are you going in the morning? - Not until 2:00.

When I see you, I want to weep with joy.

To think you're back with us again!

- Good night, Gusten. - Good night.

Be a good boy now, and remember that Alma needs her sleep.

I know what Alma needs.

Aunt Emilie.

What do you two want at this hour?

We want to move to Stockholm.

Marianne Egerman is opening a boutique and wants us to help.

- And we'd like to. - We'd very much like to.

But we have a big problem.

Papa insists on that cafe for Maj.

He's so kind.

- Maj's had enough of his tutelage. - He's so kind.

She wants to live her own life and decide for herself and her baby.

I don't know what to do.

We've spoken to mama.

She was awfully upset at first and said we couldn't do that to papa.

Then she calmed down and said that life must take its course...

and that one shouldn't force one's children.

Though she felt sorry for papa's sake.

It's awful.

You must think of yourself.

After all, papa's an old man. Isn't that true, aunt Emilie?

Go to bed now. I'll have a word with grandmama.

Emilie, how nice to see you! Welcome!

I need to speak with you.

- Would you like a cognac? - No, thank you.

Is it anything serious?

Oh, yes. Maj and Petra want to move to Stockholm.

What do you think?

You can't escape me.

One other thing.

You're right.

On his deathbed, Oscar asked you to take charge of the theatre.

I was there. I remember it well.

Gustav Adolf will be awfully hurt.

Why all this concern for Gustav Adolf?

He has a good head for business,

but he doesn't know a thing about theatre.

It's your theatre, my dear Emilie.

It's about time we explain to our backwoods napoleon

that he's facing his waterloo.

I'd like you to read a new play by august Strindberg.

That nasty misogynist!

No, thank you.

It's called a dream play.

I thought we'd both perform in it.

Not on your life. I haven't appeared on stage in --

All the more reason. I won't disturb you any longer.

You never disturb me.

What are you laughing at?

Now we're the ones in charge, aren't we?

Do you think so?

- Good night, dearest. - Good night, my dear.

"Everything can happen. Everything is possible and probable.

Time and space do not exist.

On a flimsy framework of reality,

the imagination spins, weaving new patterns."