Original subtitles

Caspar! Einar!

Caspar!!!

OTHER SIDE OF SILENCE

based on motifs from the novel Hummelhonung

'Sweetness' by Torgny Lindgren

It's no secret. A faithful heart treasures its own saint.

We choose them to intercede,

speak up for us and for our relatives.

We turn to Saints like August,

Cecilia, Tom, Francis hoping for

attention to our problems,

giving us strength to overcome them.

Holy names come by chance,

but all of them are known for a passionate interest in existence

and total distraction in daily life.

For example,

St. Ethelred was untouched over 2 marriages.

Distraction interfered in intimacy.

Simply an annoying, cramping distraction

safeguarded her virginity.

Recently I read a famed writer's claim

that the lives of holy martyrs

cannot be convincing models to modern-day people, because

they achieved nothing in their lives; they had nothing, and

finally, they were viciously tortured to death.

But, saints truly help, if you believe that someone up high loves us.

So, today we'll be talking about Saint Christopher,

who probably lived in the 3rd century.

I'm sorry.

No need to apologize.

They're such people...

They read an article in the paper about your lecture and came here.

It wasn't for the saints.

Out of curiosity - just curiosity.

Yova! Yova! Yova! Yova!

Excuse me.

The Hunchback- He comes to see us on the island once a year.

That's a good sign.

And, to Tornwald- Is there a ferry only once a day?

Yup.

Is there an inn here?

You'll spend the night at my house. That's the decision.

I'm Einar.

I'm Isabel.

I know.

I read about you in the newspaper.

You'll drive the car.

OK

Yova! Yova!

I won't lecture anymore.

I'm writing a book about St. Christopher.

I want to finish it.

So, that writing - Is it your whole life?

No, I'm not a famous writer. I never tried to be one.

This will be my last work on saints.

So, that's it .

That's also an answer.

Is it still far?

How do I get back to Tornwald tomorrow?

Stop.

I've got to take a leak.

Should have stayed in Tornwald-

Isn't that something-

Ugh-

Will we get there by dark?

I've got lots of time.

Do you live here alone?

So, where do I sleep?

Landlord-

Where do I sleep?

Mina!

Don't add so many logs.

A stove must be stoked evenly and carefully.

Feed it like a suckling calf.

Does Caspar know?

That you're coming to me?

The Devil-

How do I drive out of here?

It'll take a couple weeks till the water recedes.

What! A couple weeks?

What're the chances of getting out of here?

I've got a boat,

but I'm too weak to row it.

That's not so bad - a boat.

Did you know about the flood?

Did you specially bring me here?

Yeah- uh huh-

I was started in that bed, where you sleep.

Father said so.

It's a good thing, you let the sheep out.

It's been many years, since they've seen daylight.

Have you had that cat long?

I always had a cat.

It pisses in the fur hat outside the door.

I'll still kill it.

You're not so lonely.

I see, you've got a neighbor.

That's no kind of neighbor.

Now, how's that? It's a house.

Smokes' coming out the chimney. Who lives there?

That's my brother.

Caspar.

At times he makes fun of me,

lets the fire go out.

He wants me to think, he's at his rope's end.

Then he lights it up again.

Now, he's probably standing by the window

and staring at my chimney.

I'll still kill that cat.

Take off your clothes.

I'll wash them.

And what will I put on?

You'll toss something on until they dry.

I don't remember having any spare clothes.

Last night, I dreamed my mother.

I'd never dreamed her before,

but I dreamed her last night.

Weird-

But-

She loved me very much.

What about Caspar?

I'd have been enough for her,

but Caspar came along.

My mother breastfed him

for three years.

She pushed me away, but fed him.

Are you listening to me?

Yes, yes I'm listening.

When mother died,

Caspar unbuttoned her blouse...

So he could suckle her breast one last time.

Well, these won't get any cleaner.

Does Caspar have his light on?

No light, not even

any smoke coming out the chimney.

I don't think he's met his end.

Maybe he's out walking somewhere.

Got nowhere to go,

even dead, he won't go anywhere.

Doesn't he have anyone to care for him either?

Nobody will stay with his kind, not any decent person.

If he's still alive-

I don't want him suffering, more than necessary.

Good little baby, you good one, little baby.

Good day!

Go.

Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss-

Oh!

I thought you'd be coming.

I'm lying here waiting.

Who're you?

Isabel.

I'd understood

he'd found himself someone over there.

He waited long for this.

Einaras is worried

if you're still alive.

I knew - don't light a light and don't light the stove,

and he'll send over that person.

The cat came with me on the boat.

Isn't this Einar's cat?

He says it's his cat.

But it's- Leo.

He's lived with me 12 years.

He's a tom - a tom cat

He'll outlive me.

Isn't that so, Leo?

Now, tell the truth.

Einar

send you to spy on me?

No way,

I stayed due to the flood.

Once the water recedes, I'll leave at once.

OK, if you came,

then fire up the stove.

I eat sweets every day to give me warmth.

All those sugar bits give me heat.

Handful of raisins, piece of chocolate,

and I can go light up the lights,

fire up the stove, bring in logs and catch fish.

Well, I write books.

I started one about Saint Christopher recently.

So that's it.

Uh huh.

He helped people who wanted to be ready to die.

I found all kinds of legends and jokes about him.

I'll add a bit from me. A book on St. Christopher will issue.

With nothing about yourself?

Not interesting.

Not interesting?

Personal things are not meaningful.

So that's it.

That's also an answer.

Look at my teeth.

They're nearly well.

I feel sorry for such teeth.

I'll die and they'll have no use.

Indeed, such teeth

could serve for many more years.

Judging by all this food, you seem ready for war.

There's a war going on here.

You took a long time.

Caspar sends you his best.

He's worried about you.

So, he does remember me.

Did he call me by name, or just a carcass?

Why? He called you brother,

or Einar.

Does Caspar have a woman?

Naw-didn't seem like a woman was living there.

Or, he hid her someplace.

No, I'd have sensed a woman living there.

Come here. Come here.

Good boy... Good boy... Good-

What're you doing here?

You're deep in sleep.

I can see, how well you manage to sleep.

How did you climb up?

By stairs.

I climbed up the stairs.

You'll kill yourself, when you're climbing down.

How will I ever lift the likes of you?

I thought the wind had torn the window off.

Sibile, Sibile,

Sofija,

help me.

Matilda, Matilda,

Joana.

Maria!!! Well, how's that? Wait-

I'm Isabel.

It's hard to remember the name of a stranger.

That pain annoys me.

You've got to understand me-

Isabel- Isabel-

Your cat stayed with Caspar.

Huh?

He jumped in the boat, when I was rowing.

Maybe that's good.

He's so lonely.

He'll have someone to talk to.

Isabel.

Don't you have anyone to care for you?

Who could I have?

Brother -

he's the only one who is left.

If we didn't have each other,

I don't know how we'd live.

Be sweet; give me the sugar.

The sweets do me good.

That's my food.

Now, I have you.

Too bad, you didn't show up sooner.

We would have sat in the boat and caught fish.

This is Mina's glycerin.

Mina's my wife.

She'd pour glycerin

on cowberries,

and we'd eat cowberries with pike.

Mina was very inventive.

I want you to take something

that belongs to Einar to him.

I finally realized that

he's the true owner of that thing.

Thank you.

Is this your thanks in behalf of Einar?

Caspar sends you his best along with this thing.

I didn't expect that.

Apparently Caspar is seriously preparing to die.

But, I don't eat sweets, if these are his candies.

Ach, Caspar.

I understood at once.

I knew in advance.

Had to get finished off that cat anyway.

Caspar finished her off to save me the trouble.

The head's cut off cleanly.

You couldn't even say-

You need nimble hands to finish off a cat.

It's work for a strong man -

uh huh.

Take the cat out of here, throw it away behind the barn.

Phooey

Oh

If you get another cat, will you give it a new hat?

Nope, I won't get involved

or attached to any other living thing.

I had to be brave to bring you,

a stranger, into my home.

I brought you.

You're creeping around Caspar too often.

You might conspire.

I could even get insulted.

How do I smell now?

Of mint.

Of sweet calamus herb.

Of calamus.

Of swamp silt.

Of swamp silt.

There was no need to hook up with you.

I should've left you in Tornwald.

After dumping outhouse barrels into Morava River, filled up by-

those with life sentences or beggars had filled up.

Once he had lived- He had lived-

What're you writing?

Once with lepers- He'd scraped with his fingernails-

Are you writing something?

their filth that he'd wash off-

Seems to me-

and bandaging-

That you've got it too good with me.

their wounds-

There was no need to bring you from Tornwald.

Isabel!!!

What're you writing there?

are you writing something?!

Isabel!

So, after all,

will you let him die?

Who?

That Christopher, who you're writing about.

I'm not sure.

But, you can't finish a book

till everybody in it dies.

Why did you kill the cat?

Why do you hate Einar so much?

Why should I hate him? He's my brother.

You want him to die as fast as possible.

I don't recall having such a desire.

Then visit him. Huh?

Apologize for the cat.

Later you'll talk over all those more serious matters.

Let's take the boat over and go, Caspar.

There can't be any talk about it.

If I rowed over there,

he'd grab a knife and slay me.

He carved Mina with a knife.

My wife-

Before he died, Christopher told

the king who was blind in one eye.

He said, �Tomorrow, once I'm dead,

make a lotion from my blood.

Place it on your blind eye

and you'll have your sight again.

Row back!

He's waiting for you!

Go back!

I didn't bring you over to go creeping around Caspar.

You could do a good job

and finish off that Caspar.

Row back! Row!!!

Bumble bee honey-

I only treat myself on special occasions.

Grandpa Ethan taught us

how to gather bumble bee honey.

If I were to tell you about it,

you could write a whole book.

It's not that easy writing books.

If I knew how books get written,

I'd help you.

Nobody's ever offered such help.

I've got enough knowledge.

Even though I've got no education.

I can just toss an eye on your papers

and I understand all of it.

In my childhood- Einar taught me to hunt a squirrel,

and I was better at it at once.

Writing books- it's a creative process.

I can't imagine how to explain it.

What's the big deal?

The form I chose for telling the story is very complicated.

Maybe it seems like that only to you.

The form- The story telling form, is

somewhat reminiscent of a Gregorian chant.

Ah- Pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa paaa-

Simple, unpretentious word formations

should be developed in each chapter.

Later they turn into an uplifting recital.

Still later it must all return to a natural tale, like at the start.

I want to show two portraits of Christopher in my book.

That legendary saint

and the ordinary man in real life.

Good- Very good!

I just want to ask you,

is Einar nearly out of firewood?

You had that furnace so fired up,

it seemed you could be dancing naked.

Oi.... Oi, oi, oi-

Oi- Oi, oi, oi- Ow, ow-

Caspar!

Hmm?

Do you hear me?

I hear you.

Einar thinks you still have

Mina hidden in the house.

So many years passed.

And Einar still believes-

Yes, he truly believes that.

How does he look? Right now.

Maybe, he's like

last year's grass?

Indeed, that's about how he looks.

Einar will die

before you finish your book.

See how I'm all broken out.

Poor man-

If you'd like,

I'll show you how to use this spoon.

It's truly honey.

Squeeze three

pimples,

and you get a spoonful.

Want to taste it?

No, thanks.

That liquid is like nectar.

It's a sign the illness is withdrawing.

Einar?

Einar?

Did Caspar tell you everything?

About what?

About Mina.

He didn't tell me anything.

He just said he'd been married.

Caspar met her in Milged town,

when he went to buy sheep.

She found my brother herself and married him.

She came to me.

What?

She came to me.

She hankered salty bacon.

Who came?

Mina,

the wife of Caspar.

We fried up some bacon.

We ate.

We laid a white sheet on the floor

and we made love.

A while later, she came again.

I realized it would go on like that.

I'd cut a line between her thighs

so I wouldn't lose count.

It's so simple,

doesn't even hurt much.

Nobody had a knife as sharp as mine.

The knife would press into Mina's soft skin

with all its weight.

Shoo.

No, no, not now!

Are you still writing in there?

Uh huh. I'm writing.

You need anything?

Naw-

What could I run out of?

Wait Einar, I'll guide you on the stairs.

What do you want?

No, nothing- What could I want?

I don't know. Something-

Can you play a cittern for me?

No, I can't. I can't play a cittern.

Mina used to play for me.

Maybe it's of no interest to you,

but after Mina, I never had another woman.

But, she didn't belong to me either.

It's awful like this,

not having anyone.

You desire a woman.

Maybe I can help.

How? What can you do?

My hand can do much the same

when a man needs a woman.

Uh huh- I haven't heard about that.

But, if you say so.

That seed- Like pus-

Like poisonous secretions-

It's about 30 years old

or maybe even 40.

I wonder how it feels,

for a knife to cut a thigh.

It's real simple.

Want to try?

Maybe-

Where are you taking them?

Over to Caspar.

There's no grass left here.

He'll burn them.

You did good, bringing the sheep here.

Our grandpa braided these.

Don't crawl around at Einar's.

Better stay with me.

You're cold.

My closet is full of clothes,

Mina's clothes.

Go. Pick out what you like.

Mina's coat-

She always smelled like soap.

Einar wouldn't cut Mina.

He'd just scrape a bit with the knife.

Is that what Einar told you?

Yes.

He'd be so careful, she never felt the cut.

He'd cut her

with all his might.

What the hell!

Einar said Mina never resisted!

She was submissive.

She was my woman,

so he tortured her.

He sliced her 16 times

before he stopped.

What did you do to protect your woman?

What could I do to a man like Einar.

Einar-

You're wearing Mina's coat!

So you left Mina alone

after 16 slices.

Caspar told you that.

It means he counted.

He's always sticking his fingers in everything.

Where is that damned doll?

What doll?

A wooden one,

that Gramps Ethan carved.

Must be Caspar took it.

He always envied me that doll.

Einar, you didn't answer.

Why'd you leave Mina after 16 cuts?

Mina was pregnant.

I didn't want to bother the baby.

So Mina gave birth to a son.

Yes.

He was my son.

I named him Ethan.

That's what grandpa was called.

She agreed to it.

But, later, Caspar named him Vincent.

No one called my son by his true name.

He was forced to live under

an imposed name.

It's a good thing

I have you now.

And a son.

The son is unsuitable for that matter.

I'd die laughing if I saw him carrying

a bucket of my feces,

washing my ass.

He is not suited for such jobs.

He could have been a teacher,

a pastor.

Was his name Vincent?

Yes,

I christened him as Vincent.

Where's he now?

I'd rather not talk about that.

Maybe go now.

Put those sheep elsewhere.

The folk of one heretical town refused St. Christopher's sermon.

Then he sent a word for fish

that began poking out their heads turning

waters to meadows teeming with scales.

Other sources link this legend

with St. Anthony of Padua.

Do you hear me?

Huh? Uh huh.

Caspar told me

Mina left him.

He learned only years later where she'd gone.

I always thought so.

Caspar wasn't any joy anymore.

That Mina lives in a little town by the sea.

She's doing rather well.

I always believed

sooner or later

Mina

will meet success.

She got a housekeeper's job

working for this attorney.

She gave him two sons.

They're grown up now.

Did Caspar say so?

Uh huh, yes, Caspar told me.

Ah, so that's it.

No one said a word to me.

Come in.

Want to feel that feeling?

No one's got

a knife as sharp as this.

It'll heal in a couple of days.

Has he

tried to cut you with his knife?

You could finish off Einar.

I already got the same offer from Einar.

I get this idea at times

to pretend I'm dead.

Then-

I'd dispel all Einar's schemes.

I only need to close my eyes and hold my breath.

I did it a lot before. It'd come out quite alright.

But, among the dead, there's got to be an accomplice,

so someone doesn't get buried by mistake.

Einar... Einar

would bury me

even if

I'd climb out of the coffin yelling 'It's a trick!'

You should help me.

We'd have a laugh on Einar, huh?

How about it?

It's not

funny to you.

You'll have to resolve to be the first to die.

How much time can Einar still wait for your death?

And how much time will you wait for his end?

Forever.

Flies live in dung all winter

and survive the most bitter cold.

Did you know that?

Did you know?

Nope.

To hell with everything!

Do you know how many days I'm washing shit off you and your brother?

You just got here.

No, it was long ago.

I've managed to age.

When I came, your tom cat was still alive!

Cat.

What's the difference?

St. Christopher,

strong as a rock

holding a child on his shoulders.

The 1st author's vision was a legend

on Reprobus,

later named Christopher.

He carried Jesus

across the overflowing river.

Jesus appeared in the form of a scared little child.

Mina

saw him first.

My brother and I ran over together.

Meanwhile Einar

got in the way

of my saving my son,

of pulling him from the hole in the ice.

It's likely

he wanted the boy to die,

to belong to no one.

He knocked me down

on the ice

and he tried to drown me in the ice gap.

Mina screamed.

The boy sunk deeper.

When he surfaced,

he was already dead.

That's how Einar

took my son's life.

I'll never forgive him.

When we returned

after burying our son,

Mina sat down outside.

No way did she want to come in and lay down.

Summer that year was very hot,

sun baked.

She just sat like that

for several days.

When I'd go to her,

she'd claw my face.

Her hair started falling,

her skin cracking and peeling.

Four days later,

I went over to Mina.

She had already died.

But, Vincent died in winter.

Caspar, did Vincent drown in winter?

No-

I don't remember.

Maybe he didn't drown in winter.

Maybe he drowned swimming.

Maybe he was fishing.

Who could say, now.

So much time has passed.

Those walks back and forth

had to end sometime.

Mina

and we had to decide

who our son Ethan belonged to,

to me or to Caspar.

He was strong.

Remember his crafting the lift?

What rocks he extracted?

I'd stand there

and watch.

Those were the happiest days in my entire life.

I can't forgive myself

for telling him to dig that ditch.

Einar-

Who are you?

Me - Isabel.

You're the one who comes in from Tornwald?

Do you remember Mina?

Well, no, I've never seen her.

So, you've never seen my son either.

No one ever saw him again,

not since spring, not since that ditch digging.

That damned rock.

He strung the chain on

and raised it way up.

Suddenly the rock came loose.

A noose snatched the kid by his arm and neck.

He was left hanging!

Mina saw him first.

My brother and I both ran over

to the crane.

Caspar likely

wanted the kid dead

to end the visits with his real dad.

'No touching!'

'He's mine,' he yelled.

We knocked each other down on the ground.

Suddenly Mina screamed.

I saw my son.

He had died.

He had no signs of life.

Caspar!

Einar died.

What did you say?

Your brother has already died.

Einar is no more.

Was it hard

for him to die?

Yes.

It finally happened.

Einar-

Caspar died.

You lie.

Now you've really lied.

Why should I lie to you?

I knew long ago that he died.

But, you didn't want to tell me.

He was already dead, when I arrived.

I just pressed shut his eyes and mouth.

Now, I've got to trust you.

I found the doll.

Can I keep her overnight?

Why are you asking me?

Who else would I ask?

I'm going upstairs. I've got

to write a line or two.

OK

Go.

Now I've got

all the time I need.

Go.

I was in an isolated farmstead

here for a few days.

I rented a room in an attic with a leaky roof.

Don't lose hope, but I won't finish my book till summer.

I say, 'Don't lose hope,' but my books don't make profits.

This time I can't write easily and specifically as I'd hoped.

This book won't fit in the small, intriguing biographies series.

Don't send money.

I'll make out here somehow.

My aged landlord

has rich life's experiences.

He's a bit sick.

His tellings fascinate me.

It's quite cold on this island.

That flood ruined my plans.

I'll let you know when my address is more permanent.

Yours, Isabel.