Original subtitles

Central Film Archive presents

THE JUNK SHOP

BASED ON BOHUMIL HRABAL'S

SHORT STORY 'BARON PRÁŠIL'

SCREENPLAY

THE JUNK SHOP

ASSISTANT DIRECTOR

2ND CAMERAMAN

ASSISTANT PRODUCER

PRODUCTION DESIGNER

COSTUME DESIGNER

SET DESIGNER

EDITOR

SOUND

MAKE-UP

MUSIC

Dear Saint Judas Thaddaeus,

good bloke that you are,

put in a kind word in Heaven

so when the butchers bring their pans full of blood and stinking flesh,

their van veers off the road down into the Vltava river.

And when those pharmacists dump empty sacks of powder,

their vehicles are squashed flat

and the drivers are afflicted by heart attacks and leprosy,

and all their tyres are punctured,

so when they come to us,

their lorries are too wide for our driveway.

OK? Will you fix that? Amen.

Damn it all!

- A good morrow to you, honest fellow! - I have to take all this down.

And screw it all back in the church on the other side.

Our Lord must have really strong nerves.

Heaven makes no distinction between a doctor or an engineer.

Hanťa, bring your cart. I have some art junk for your boss.

Yes, I will. The Collection Centre will be delighted.

LOOK OUT - CELLAR

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Aren't you a bit early today?

Well, I overslept a little. I have a question, though.

Have you seen a big car round here?

- What kind of car? - A normal one, but I see you haven't.

- Well, I had a little chat. - What have you been saying, Hanťa?

What a quiet life we'd have, if Hanťa would keep his mouth shut.

He just talks and talks wherever he goes.

- Here's the fourth one. - Yes.

He's told his friends I was poisoned by Schweinfurt green

while painting a nude.

How can I sleep in peace?

What idiot has made all this mess?

Hello, Miss Marcella!

Hello, inspiration personified!

An oil painting, in a gold frame - how beautiful that would be!

This world is full of strange beauty.

A single lifetime isn't enough...

Send the money to the Works Council

But save half of it for our lunch.

What about lottery tickets instead?

Yes, let him win a car!

Our boss has won it already.

We divided the rest of the prizes between us.

You might win mittens, a shawl or a book at best...

Maybe!

Or shit, most likely.

Thank God I have my family tomb.

I don't like football results like six to nil or five to one.

There's no drama in that.

I prefer to see the better team lose a decisive contest

with two penalty kicks hitting the bar

and their own defence shooting into their own goal.

That's what I call dramatic.

Dramatic?

What have I done to deserve this?

Another sleepless night...

Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

- What do you want for this? - A lottery ticket.

We'll give you one, of course. And you're sure to win a car.

Lovely eyes he has...

So bright, so clear!

Let's weigh it.

Five kilograms.

One Czech crown or a lottery ticket?

Only one crown? Why so mean?

Twenty hellers for a kilo. That's one crown or a lottery ticket.

But this isn't just ordinary paper.

These are letters from my darlings, my love letters.

You've come to the wrong address.

This is the Collection Centre, not an auction hall.

Letters written by Hemingway or even Churchill

would fetch the same price. One crown per kilogram.

Or... one lottery ticket.

I'll keep the letters then.

You should have taken them.

They contain my whole life.

What wonderful letters - and some of them even in verse!

Get out of here! One crown and not a heller more!

- Or a lottery ticket. - Or... a ticket.

Can I even believe my own eyes?

- Hello. - Hello, darling Hedwig.

Come in...

Those legs!

Thirty kilograms?

You carried such a load?!

Hanťa, it's half past ten. Go to the cellar! OK!

We have a goose here, boss.

Leave it alone then!

But it's only quarter past...

Oh, the sacristan said

he had something special for you.

He asked me to come with a cart.

Well, what are you waiting for? Get over there at once!

Mařenka!

What's your goose doing here?

Here's the receipt. Thirty kilos.

And now let's weigh sweet Hedwig.

Only forty-six kilos? So light? ls that even possible?

Yes.

Who shall we weigh next? Well, Bohouš, of course.

Those hands... Ah, those hands.

You weigh one hundred and sixty-five kilograms.

What?

One hundred and sixty-five and thirty grams.

I found it, finally!

Now you weigh ninety-five!

That's impossible. You're looking from the wrong angle.

These are from a cashier from Drážd'any.

He embezzled funds because of me.

Got twenty years for it.

And I only get one crown? You ought to be ashamed!

If you looked from the right, it's five kilos less

and from the left five kilos more.

Look at it from the front.

I'd like to carve you in limewood...

...and focus on this spot...

- Naughty... - Why?

You know why!

You probably won't believe me but I used to be a circus dancer.

My father was a Red Indian

and every night we used to throw knives around Mother.

I believe everything you say. Here's five crowns. Now get out!

Don't let me see you again, you ugly witch.

She really was beautiful.

Damn vermin!

He got my invoice mixed up with the waste paper!

I've been working on it for days! Where did you put it, please?

Don't make me laugh, lady. It's right here, in amongst all this paper.

- See what you've done? - Mařenka!

Go on, start searching!

Thank God for my family tomb...

There's no paper, no lunatics, nothing.

Oh Lord...

Look for it properly or I'll show you...

Come up!

Your boss really wants it in pieces?

Yes, he wants to bring it home piece by piece.

Why are you so sad?

Because of the metal plaques?

That too, but it's mostly our flock.

They steal flowers in parks to bring them to the church and say,

"A good servant of God should change the water three times a day."

Do you understand? To cut the stalks...

Look, a saddle...

So the flowers can drink... One hundred and twenty vases and fifty tins

and I have to change the water!

The neck next?

The neck...

Why don't you get married?

It's a beautiful thing to be able to open your heart to someone,

with the occasional row at night, the furniture flying around...

It would change your view of the world, and of your dearest.

Our flock is hard work.

I recently surprised a woman near the vestry,

fixing her suspenders. Fine thighs she had...

But she shouted at me, "Look away, you pervert!"

Why should I have looked away?

This one we can cut above the knees.

We're like surgeons...

Having children is also good for a marriage.

How wonderful it is when your son gets arrested

and always worrying about your daughter getting knocked up?!

And the shoes?

No, Hanťa, but you can take that angel and cut its wings off.

This one will be good for the fire.

It's been blessed. Nobody wants it, but it burns like petrol!

I'd certainly like to chop up angel's wings for fuel

and then put the legs on,

and then finally, the hand with the raised finger.

Our greatest nuisances are the drunks.

Whenever they puke in front of the church door

the Dean says indulgently,

"As Christians, we must be forgiving."

So, he forgives and I clean up the mess.

Cutting this angel in half, I expect to see blood at any moment.

You're new to this.

Hanťa, you've made me very happy.

Have you found the invoice?

Sod the invoice, I can't find Pepa!

What's on your programme now, girls?

The best film we've ever shown. "The Hunchback".

Eight bags of ice cream paper daily!

Pepa, where are you?

Little Pepa!

They've cut it up! How could you do that?!

The sacristan said that's how you wanted it.

You vandals!

In halves...

And the halves in half again!

Next week will be even better. We'll be showing "Hamlet".

The girls say it's a touching love story.

Pepa!

It's no use, Ma'am. You can never find anything round here.

People have mistakenly brought all kinds of things.

An engine as good as new...

Shoes, radios, petrol vouchers,

and once even diamonds worth one and half million.

Look! A goose!

Good Lord, Mařenka!

Here...

Seven detectives spent a whole week going through this heap,

page by page, and they found nothing.

You'll sooner find King Solomon's buried treasure.

Venouš!

No, it's Pepa, Pepa!

They cut them into little pieces!

Do you know all the films by heart?

No, I'm more of a theatre girl.

Well, how can you tell which film is good?

A good film yields eight bags of waste paper,

a poor one only two.

It'll take hours to weigh all this.

- What do you estimate? - Seventeen quintals.

- Sixteen. - All right.

Good Lord... Good afternoon, Madam.

Good afternoon, František.

- Your former husband? - No, my former chauffeur.

Yes, we had twelve rooms, two maids and a chauffeur.

Our gardener would come every morning and ask,

"What flowers would you like today?"

So, you've ended up like these books.

Formerly ten fifty each, now twenty hellers a kilo.

Well, I used to own swings and a shooting gallery, too.

And I could work two swings at the same time.

God bless you, cheeky fellas! I thought I'd drop in for a minute.

My boss has been arrested. He's gone mad.

He broke up antique angel statues into pieces.

A vermouth.

What's up?

Now we have to be nice to each other, Granddad.

We'll be closing down our Collection Centre.

It'll be turned into a cabaret hall or we'll be selling gold there.

All this is about as true as when you said I was pregnant.

Oh, my darling, how could I! I was misunderstood.

I'd never say a thing like that.

I meant mentally pregnant!

You said nasty things about me.

- That she was pregnant. - It was a mistake.

I never said she was pregnant.

Pregnant with beautiful thoughts!

And that's why I've brought nourishment for your refined thinking.

- What will it be, darling? - I'll let you decide.

- A vermouth? - Sure.

- Are these love stories? - Passionate, too.

"Magda's Destiny" and "The Broken Bonds".

But "The Baron's Desire", that's a masterpiece.

I can hardly wait! Tell it in a few words...

One quiet, beautiful night...

...Vilma opened the French window leading on to the terrace

and cried, "Oh, Baron!"

Then she said, "Baron, do not utter such words.

"You are a married man and I am an honourable maiden."

You know what, dear? Lunch is on me.

The Baron fell on his knees and whimpered,

"Vilma, love always overcomes prejudice."

Then the Baroness entered, crying,

"Vilma, how could you admit a married man at night?

"And I trusted you so!"

And then, my dear?

A terrible disaster. I'd rather not say.

Never mind me.

I've buried two husbands already.

You're a lady, that's evident.

And in the last chapter,

the Baroness says to Vilma who's lying on her death bed,

"Vilma, do you deny having taken poison?"

And Vilma whispers,

"I swear I only have two cats here.

"The third one drowned yesterday."

Take it easy, mister.

We were informed that twelve cats have run amok in here.

Having twelve cats is against the law. Come on, sign this paper.

That's Hanťa's work!

Recently, he was telling people that I took a plaster cast of a live cat,

then gave it a cold compress

and poured valerian extract into its ears

and the beast went wild and bit thirty school children.

Is this where I sign?

Pussies!

You should have brought him to us.

Hanťa?

No, that cat.

A cold compress won't help.

We would put it down without any suffering.

One cut and done.

Give the goose some water.

What have I done to deserve this?

God bless. How is little Oto?

It's Pepa, Pepa! I can't find him!

I can start building a cottage.

And here's my oven door, a good one, at least two kilos.

And I, being an idiot, charged for it as if it were paper!

Stop the press!

What did you say?

You criminal!

Little Pepa nearly got pressed!

You could have been turned into carpet.

Stop crying! Here, take him.

Pepa. Pepa... My darling baby!

See what you've done?

Why did you have to lose my invoice?!

Why? Miserable brat!

Answer me, will you?

Now you're going to sort out all this paper.

And stop crying!

Such statues keep weariness and suicidal thoughts at bay.

Creative work alone can withstand the onslaught of the Infinite.

One has to be full of productive silence and creative calm.

That's it.

It's the opposite of the roast pork, dumplings and sauerkraut philosophy.

I pity those for whom the delight of real creative work has been denied.

If such an individual did a bit of thinking,

he'd shed tears. Tears of dread.

In fact, Hanťa, I feel sorry for you too

for being deprived of such delight, such happiness.

Your joy consists of fuss and provocation.

This isn't an adequate defence

against the violent onslaught of the Infinite!

Here... come on, goose!

Come right in, gentlemen - this is your last chance.

Three shots - one crown.

Everybody can take a shot.

That's it!