All language subtitles for Closet_Land_1991

Can you remove
my blindfold, please?

Can you remove
my blindfold, please?

Not yet!

Where are you taking me?

- Where are you taking me?
- Shut up!

Closet Land

Tell me if you need anything else.
I'm leaving in 10 minutes.

Let me see...
I think I have everything.

Where am I?

Here.

Who are you?

May I speak to the officer
in charge, please?

I am the officer in charge.

Where are you?

Here. To your right.

And vice versa, your vices are
my verses, and versa vice.

Remove my blindfold and
these handcuffs, please.

I'm going to call my lawyer.
I was dragged out of bed...

All right. Don't worry.
We'll look into it.

I won't be needing you anymore.

I'm going straight to the sauna,
there is nothing like it after this shit.

Bon nuit.
(Good night)

Where are you?
Have you gone away, too?

I'm here, right by your side.

Did I scare you? Sorry.

Just a minute.
I'll turn the lights on.

Let's get this blindfold off.

Why and when was I brought here?

Which day is it?

A next day. A night, actually.

I was brought here last night.

I think it was last night.
Sometimes, it seems like...

...two nights back,
two weeks even. - No.

They brought you here last night.

Are you the officer in charge?

They came to my house when I was
in bed. One man held a gun to my head

and handcuffed me. The other
blindfolded and gagged me.

They dragged me
out of my own home.

On the way here, they
slapped me, spat on me...

...pulled my hair,
twisted my arms,

pinched my legs, and left me
standing in a narrow cold room...

no bigger than a...
...a closet.

Given no warrant for my arrest.

I've been denied access to my
lawyer, to anyone else outside.

Why am I here?

It says here that you're
a writer of children's fiction.

Do you do any other
kind of writing?

Like what?

- Political, for instance.
- No.

- I'm really quite ignorant
about politics. - Good.

I mean, it's better to have no
ideas than half-baked ones.

Too, you're not a member of any
underground group or anything?

No.

- Are your stories political?
- I write for 7-year-olds and 8-year-olds!

So? Children make the best
receptacles for propaganda.

"You can do anything with a child
as long as you play with him."

- Who said that?
- Bismarck.

This is ridiculous.

Well...

...maybe we made a mistake.

Doesn't happen often,
but sometimes...

If they've had too much to drink,
maybe they took a wrong turn.

"They took the wrong turn"?

My sincere apologies.

You may leave.

Maybe you should wait
for the official apology.

What's that?

To letter from the head of this
department, apologizing for our mistake.

How long will that take?

No time at all.

You interrogated me
like a common criminal,

knowing full well you
owed me an apology?!

It's procedure.
We can never be too sure.

No, no, I insist.
I'm used to this place.

I last saw you about
two years ago, I think.

You were signing autographs at the Third
Street bookstore. I forget what it is...

Sorry, but I'm really not in
the mood for conversation.

You think your apology
letter's enough?!

I'm going to press charge,
against him especially.

You're going to press what,
against whom?

I said that I...

I'm going to make
a complaint against him.

The one that was here. Didn't get to
see him, but I know his voice.

- What did it sound like?
- A chocked gutter.

"Man with a voice...

...like a chocked gutter."

What did he do?

Did he rape you?

No.

He just fondled you? Is that it?

Yes.

That's strange.

None of our female prisoners
have made that complaint.

Our men don't do that.
They're strictly professional.

I'm not lying.

- I'm sure you're not, but
maybe you imagined it. - No!

After one day in prison,
you are ranting and

raving about having been here
two weeks. Is it why you are

such a good writer? Imagination.
- No, I have his nail-marks all over...

Can I see them?

Let a doctor examine me.

All right. Don't worry.

We'll look into it.

Some more broth?

It's got rum in it.

Warms you up, doesn't it?

Listen. How long
will the letter be?

- What letter?
- The apo...

- The apology letter.
- Oh, that.

- You had it all along?
- Yes.

- What game are you playing?
- I'm not playing games.

- But you kept me here, waiting for it!
- Now you're imagining things again!

You decided to wait.
Didn't I tell you I had the letter?

This is a mess.

Drunken soldiers,
hallucinating senior officers.

You really should watch
what you're saying, you know.

Walls have ears.

Open the door!

I have the apology letter!
Open up, please!

Might as well stay warm!

It could be a long time
before you.

I must call my lawyer.
I must call my lawyer.

What is that?

Why didn't you leave
when you could?

You cannot call your lawyer
or anyone else outside.

You must put your trust in us.

I am a small part of
a large mechanism,

that goes for you, too, but together
we may seek at the truth.

I will help you to
the best of my ability,

but the brunt of the
responsibility lies with you.

Deliberate deceit
will not be tolerated,

although personally,
I may find your lies charming.

Inadvertent blunders will
be treated with firm kindness,

and you must trust me to decide
the ratio of firmness to kindness.

Your best hope would be
to depersonalize what follows,

and not to look upon me as
a foe or yourself as a victim.

Remember, we are both
seekers of truth,

and in this quest, I am your friend,

philosopher and guide.

"The Cow who Learned to Fly"

"The Treasure Trove"

"The Cat With Green Wings"

Heavy-duty political stuff, huh?

No, you're right.
These stories are innocuous.

I told you you're
making a terrible mistake.

No, that's not possible.

Are you infallible?

Not me, personally.

I'm going... Maybe I'm at fault,
really. I'm not looking hard enough,

you can't have been
arrested for nothing.

Are you going to concoct
something to justify my arrest?

Closet Land

It hasn't been published yet, I'm still
working on it. Where did you get this?

You had my home search,
didn't you?

- Tell me about it.
- Why don't you read it?

It is interesting to hear writers
talk about their work.

- Hidden meanings surface...
- When you write for children,

you pretty much have to be direct,
there's no room for hidden meanings.

Children are remarkably
subtle creatures.

My stories are
harmless, cheerful.

Pieces of fluff, they have no more
depth than cotton candy.

Did you wreck my house?

Don't worry, it's fine.

They even cleaned your
house before they left.

There was some blood
on the toilet seat.

- Are you menstruating now?
- None of your business!

Thought not.

You see?

It's easier if you answer
my questions, isn't it?

You're in good health?

Do you have any physical
condition I should know about?

Are you on any medication?

You answer my questions
like a good little girl,

and I promise
I never do that again.

Don't call me good little girl!

I'm still waiting for the artist
to speak about her work.

Closet Land is about a child, who is
locked in a closet all day by her mother.

Little girl fantasizes that the
clothes are her imaginary friends.

They all have wonderful
parties in this closet,

this child and her friends,

and it becomes a sunny
meadow strewn

with wild strawberries
and beautiful flowers.

When it's time for her mother
to return from work,

the Friendly Rooster, which is
actually a scarf with a rooster design,

warns the little girl and her
friends by crowing loudly.

The clothes all go back
to their hangers,

and the child sits, quiet as a mouse,
waiting for her mother to let her out.

It's a curious story.

Very different from "The Flying Cow"
and "The Cat With Green Wings."

Were you a lonely child?

- No brothers or sisters?
- No, just my mother and me.

But your mother didn't
pay you much attention.

Well, she didn't mean not to,
she was just busy with her work

and her sunday literary groups.

You're still lonely, aren't you?

I don't trust lonely people.

Life's eternal spectators.

Watching.

Waiting.

- Were you afraid of your mother?
- No.

- We had a good relationship.
- Well, yes.

You were with her at her
bedside, when she died last year.

- What? - Where you accused
her of not noticing.

I've done what you asked, mama.
I've done all I could.

I've been there for you but
you've never been there for me.

You never noticed.
Just never noticed.

And then you stormed
out of the hospital.

- That night your mother died. Never
noticed what? - You've been spying

on me, haven't you?! Since last
year, maybe even before! Why?!

Why have my private
conversations been taped?!

I wasn't dragged here by mistake.
It is all part of some plan, isn't it?!

All conversations in all hospital
rooms are taped without exception.

We gain access to confessions, guilts,
longings, you name it, that we wouldn't

otherwise be privy to. Most of it is
sentimental drivel and is destroyed,

but the conversations between
writers, artists, political activists,

these are never destroyed.

Government policy.

Now...

...tell me...

What did your mother not notice?

What did your mother not notice?

Don't make a fuss.

Come on, it was just a tap.
Don't make a fuss.

- Some people have their eyes burnt with
cigarettes. - No, what you're going to...?

I don't smoke.

It'll pass.

Put your head on your knees.

Cover your ears lightly.

Better?

Shall we go on?

I need some water, please.

If you answer my questions.
What did your mother not notice?

Mothers and daughters
fight once in a while.

And when it's over, you can't
remember what it is about.

Don't hit me.

Oh, don't worry. It'll come back.

Let's talk about
Closet Land instead.

The child's locked in the
closet by her mother,

imagines that the clothes are
her friends and plays with them,

and the Friendly Rooster warns them
that the mother is on her way back.

The clothes go back to the racks and
the child waits to be let free. Is that it?

Yes.

Why was the child
locked in the closet?

I don't know.
I never thought about it.

Think now.

Maybe she ate too much cake

or spilled water-colours
on her mother's best dress.

And for this, a child gets
locked up in a closet?

That's a bit extreme, isn't it?

Closet Land is a place where
people go for secret meetings!

Remember, the clothes don't come
alive until the child is alone with them!

When the Friendly Rooster,
who is on the lookout,

gives the warning cry,
they scatter and run away!

And when the mother comes back,
she can't find anything!

You've made the child a martyr
and the mother a tyrant!

Your sympathies are with the child, of
course, because you resent any authority!

- Do you object to my interpretation?
- No.

But that's all it is.
Your interpretation.

I can't control the messages people
choose to find in my stories.

There're people get turned
on by passages in the Bible.

Closet Land is a simple
children story.

It's not a simple word.

Just think...

Skeletons rattling in the closet.

It is a place where people hide, you say:
"closet homosexual, closet intellectual".

It's a dark, secret word.

Like the basement or space
under the bed at night.

All children's stories have
an element of horror in them.

Wicked dragons, evil witches.
I chose an everyday object.

A closet instead of a fantasy creature.
That's the only difference.

Children's authors aren't
political creatures

because children aren't!

Politics means big things!

Anyone who knows children knows that they
live for themselves and the present moment!

But children can be taught to find themselves
and the present moment within an ideology!

They're far more receptive
to suggestion than adults,

and that's what you tried
to do with the story.

- You are guilty of subliminal
indoctrination! - That's absurd!

- So, you don't support
the dissidents? - No.

- You're not the member of the underground?
- No. I'm not a political person!

Do you support us, then? Have you
supported what we've done for peace,

for order, for stability? - I told you
I know nothing about politics!

I thought you didn't smoke.

This is my first.

Who commissioned you to write the story?
Where is Closet Land? Who are the clothes

that come alive in the story? We already
have two turn-coats in custody.

The kindergarten teacher
and the physicist.

Who is the Friendly Rooster? How does
he know when "Mother" will come?

Is he in the government?
We have a few suspicions.

You're not one of those
anti-smoking activists, are you?

There.

You see, there was
no need for that.

You'll know if I'm
going to hurt you.

It's the suspense, not the pain,
that'll drive you mad.

You've changed.

Here.

- More?
- You said you'd tell me.

Never trust strangers.
Didn't your mother tell you that?

No, she never did!
I have... I have to rinse my mouth.

Sign this!

"I confess that my story,
Closet Land, is an allegory

for the struggles of the various
underground groups that are resisting

the government. The child-
-protagonist of the story

stands for the uninformed reader,
whose views I wish to mold.

I have consciously represented
governmental authority

in the character of the mother, and the
clothes are all underground insurgents.

The Friendly Rooster is a
government official."

- I can't sign that.
- Why?

It's a pack of lies!

I won't confess to a pack of lies,
and even if I do confess to this,

how do I know it'll stop here?

There'll be others,
more lies, won't there?

The Closet-Child knew
that she'd missed her chance,

when she could have opened
the door and glided out.

Whatever can the poor
Closet-Child do?

Bad man gives her
nothing to drink.

She is so parched that she'd even
drink the urine he offered her. So...

The Closet-Child did what all Closet-
-Children do when they're trapped.

She shut her eyes hard

and pretended that
she could glide out of Hell.

She knew there was a Passage
of Brightness right outside Hell,

and that the elves
had left a large pitcher

of fresh dew, just for her.

So, she pretended...

...that she was out in the
Passage, out drinking dew,

out of Hell.

There has been estimated
that 96.8% of all women

who favour black underwear
are the closet-whores.

It has been estimated
that 97.3% of all women

who favour black underwear
are closet-whores.

It has been estimated
that 99, 10% of all women

who favour black underwear
are closet-whores.

Do you know that a
105.9% of all women

who favour black underwear
are closet-whores?

Uh-oh, You can't hide
from us, precious.

Why don't you give up?

The doors here don't open.
But didn't you know that?

Doors lead in,
doors lead out.

Doors no wider
than a little girl's hat.

Doors lead out,
doors lead in.

Doors no bigger than
a little girl's chin.

Give me my clothes!

Sign the confession or suck my dick.
Which do you please, you tease?

By the way.
When was the last time?

Our Friendly Neighborhood
Sex-watch says

your last time was
when you fucked... ha ha...

...tried to fuck... some
guy two years ago.

Stop it, stop it!

Even fossils show more
signs of life, dear heart.

But you're worse than a fossil.

You are frigid. We know,
we've seen you at action.

You can't do it, can you?

You are not normal.
You are warped.

You are sick.
You are bad.

You've always been bad.

That's why your mother didn't notice.
That's why men don't want you.

Who wants a cold,
unresponsive whore?

All they want to do
slam the door and leave.

All they want to do
slam the door and leave.

Step up in front of
the image, please.

Step up in front of
the image, please.

You are hereby accused of
conspiracy against your country

and against peace,
order and stability.

Your story, Closet Land,
is thinly-veiled propaganda

designed to stir dissent
in the hearts of children.

All official avenues of
redress have been sealed.

Your Rights
have been suspended.

The short term goal is to
have you sign the confession.

And the long-term goal...
...that will depend...

...on the success of
the short term goal.

You do not merit a name
or identity.

You are henceforth be
referred to by a number:

AB234.

Oh-leh.

What went on here?

Where are your clothes?
What's all this paint on your face?

Maybe your boys got bored
and wanted some fun.

We are not allowed to subject
anyone to any harassment

outside the context
of standard interrogation.

I'm sorry. I'll look into it.

Want some broth?

No.

Someone else will take over now.

I'd advise you to be straight
with him, he is not very patient.

But don't worry.

You'll be fine.

No! No blindfold, please!

- Are you scared of the dark?
- It feels like...

It feels what?

Why don't you question me?
I don't want this other man.

- We work in shifts.
- Why do I have to be blindfolded?

Because he's an undercover officer.
And we can't run the risk of your

identifying him later. - I won't
say anything. I promise.

Relax. I have to do this.
I don't want to use force.

They're watching me, too.

- Prisoner AB234.
- Chocked gutter.

Who is the Friendly Rooster?

When the clock struck five,

the Friendly Rooster
awoke from his nap.

Mommie would be coming
back from work.

The Closet-Child was
playing with the Overcoat

and his children, the Mittens.

Friendly Rooster shook
his feathers.

He must warn them
before mommie arrives.

Who is the Friendly
Rooster, AB234?

He is just a character
of my story.

Stupid cow!

Tell the truth!

I don't know.

I don't know.

You didn't want me, did you, huh?

You wanted that other guy.

I heard you telling him.

"Don't go."

"You question me."

I saw that in a movie once.

So you do not know
who the Friendly Rooster is?

No!

Prisoner XYZ!

- Do you recognize this woman here?
- Yes, your excellency.

And who is she, prisoner XYZ?

She is in charge of our child
propaganda division, your grace.

He's lying!
I don't know who he is.

What are the aims of
your group, prisoner XYZ?

- We are planning to overthrow the
government, your honour. - Liar! Who are you?

Yeah. Answer her, prisoner
XYZ. Who are you?

What was your code name?

I was called...

...the Friendly Rooster, your virtuosity.

He's lying.

You've heard that
your fellow rebel said?

- That's not true! I don't know...
- Shut up!

- You have been brought here,
because you're guilty! - I am innocent!

Even if you are you'll be
guilty before you leave!

But don't leave just yet,
prisoner AB234.

Just yet there's plenty
more to come.

We're gonna have
a barbecue, okay?

No, your highness! No, not a barbecue,
your pulchritude! Please!

What I am doing,
prisoner AB234,

I'm inserting a red-hot skewer

into the Friendly Rooster's ass.

We line up roast
chicken in a minute.

And then I'm gonna pluck out
his fingernails with a pair of pliers

as just as his toes last week.

The tuffest part
is getting a good grip.

But once you have the nails
steady and firm then, you just tug.

And keep tugging, never
mind him, keep tugging,

until you hear a crack and
the nail is on its way out.

And these pink flesh underneath.

Pink as a baby's ass.

Like yours, AB234...

...before the innocence have gone...

...before you knew the world...

...a man's touch.

Wolf-whistles.

You must have been
a pretty child.

- He's gone.
- Are you all right?

Oh, yeah.

Thanks for asking.

I've been done so often
my skin thickened.

The first time's the worst. It burns so
much you feel like you're in hell.

- Where are you?
- Over here, to your right.

I mean to your left. I forgot your
right for my left and vice versa.

Your versas are my
vices and versa vice...

Why did you lie about me?

I'm the resident witness.

They drag me up when they want
to incriminate someone.

I used to resist,
not anymore.

- Have you been barbecued yet?
- No.

- What have they tried on you? Cat's
cradle, arabesque? - What are they?

Don't even think about that. Not
even when it's happening to you.

Think of something else. You've
got something pleasant you can

think about? - The cat
with green wings.

Well, think about that,
whatever that is.

Take your mind right away
from what they're doing to you.

Have you ever done that before?

When I was a little girl. The
closet my stories came to...

He will be coming for me soon.

Listen...

...there's another man here.

He is a different sort
for a place like this.

- Yes, he questioned me first.
- He did?

Why didn't you beg for mercy?
That's all he wants.

He could've let you go.

He's not so bad, really.

He used to be a professor

of some sort before
they got him.

He plays the piano.

They're coming.

Listen, if he comes to
question you again...

...throw yourself at his feet.

It's your only hope.

Goodbye.

Hello.

Hello.

Help me! Please!

I'm innocent, please.

I beg of you! Let me go.

Please.

I don't like all this, you know.

I tell myself: It's just a job, and
then in my dreams these words...

...float by.

"Because thou hast the power
and own'st the grace

To look through and behind
this mask of me,

Against which, years have beat
thus blanchingly, with their rains,

and behold my
soul's true face..."

Seems so long ago...

...my soul's true face.

You know what I'm going to do?

I don't care who's watching me.

I'm going to open that door...

...let you walk away...

...into the night.

What's up?

Nothing. Nothing.

Good.

Let's get these
handcuff off, then.

Keys.

Where are the handcuff keys?

You have no right
to make joke of this!

Our aim is to rid society
of negative influences.

Our aim justifies the use of
certain unorthodox means.

Your aim is to humiliate
and debace the human being!

- There is no justification for cruelty!
- Our aim...

...is to rid society of
negative influences.

Our aim justifies the use of
certain unorthodox means.

Your aim is to humiliate
and debace the human being!

There is no justification
for cruelty!

Your aim is to humiliate
and debace the human being!

There is no justification
for cruelty!

- There is no justification for cruelty!
- Our aim...

...is to rid society of
negative influences.

There is no justification
for cruelty of any kind...

Are you in good health?

Do you have any physical condition
that I should know about?

Are you on any medication?

Do you know...

...that 97.5% of women who
wear black underwear

are closet whores?

Think about something pleasant to take
your mind off what they're doing to you.

Friendly Rooster, for instance.

He wakes up only once at night.
He sleeps like a baby.

But he looks like... They look
like angels, don't you think?

And then they grow up
and then nothing but heartache.

- Aren't you trying for a girl?
- May I have liked two.

But my wife says
she went through the hell.

- They always do.
- Give her time. A couple of years.

My daughter swore she'd never have
another. She's three months pregnant.

We're giving him fruit now. It was
hard first but he is getting taste it

Go easy, though you don't
wanna give him diarrhea.

I still remember when my daughter
first discovered bananas.

- I miss him when I'm away.
- Yeah. - He misses me, too.

- When I come home he smiles.
- Yeah. - He looks like a little monkey.

The night supervisor asked me to
work next weekend, but I said no.

Yeah, I remember what he said.

"In a few years you'll do
anything to get away."

We must break your
body to win your mind.

Pain ennobles both the
giver and the receiver.

Discipline will remain government
policy as long as you resist.

Resistance is foolish...

...which is why we must break
your body to win your mind.

We must break your
body to win your mind.

When was I brought here?

When do you think?

It feels like two months...

...years, two lifetimes.

- Two life times.
- What?

We brought you here
two life times ago.

No, I'm joking. You've
only been here two years.

Two years?

Two years in this closet.

Yes, and your mother
died last week.

We took you to
the hospital, but...

- She never noticed.
- You liar.

Mama died last year.
I was brought here last night.

We're going to play a game.

You respond to my questions with the first word
that comes to your mind. It's called: touchdown.

Touchdown.

Closet.

Dark.

Stories.

Closet.

- Did you write your
stories in the closet? - No.

- So? - My stories
come from the closet.

Mother.

Nowhere.

- And she died last year.
- No personal observations, please.

Sex.

Pain.

Politics.

Politics.

- Politics.
- None.

Government.

Abuse.

- Government.
- Carrying, loving, just.

- Mind.
- Government property.

- Opposition.
- Futile.

- Sleep.
- Death.

No. I meant go to sleep.

Sleep is death.

We must break your
body to win your mind.

Pain ennobles both the
giver and the receiver.

Discipline will remain government
policy as long as you resist.

Resistance is foolish.
Which is why...

Sleep is death.

Sleep is death.

We must break your
body to win your mind.

Pain ennobles...

Sleep is death.

Sleep is death.

Discipline will remain government
policy as long as you resist.

Resistance is foolish
which is why...

Are you like me?

We must break your
body to win your mind.

Pain ennobles both the
giver and the receiver.

Discipline will remain
government policy...

I'm not alone.

...as long as you resist.
Resistance is foolish...

Keep whistling.

We must break your body...

Keep whistling.

Keep whistling.

Pain ennobles both the
giver and the receiver.

Discipline will remain
government policy...

Sleep is death.

Resistance is foolish...

Pain will only
strengthen my will.

You can break my body, but
you cannot break my mind.

Torture is the policy of tyrants.

Resistance is my only weapon.

You can break my body, but
you cannot break my mind.

Pain will only
strengthen my will.

Torture is the policy of tyrants.

Resistance is my only weapon.

You can break my body, but
you cannot break my mind.

Pain will only temper my will.

Torture is the policy of tyrants.

Pain will only
strengthen my will.

Torture is the policy of tyrants.

They tell me you're
being stubborn.

You should sleep, you know.

- Listen to the tape and fall asleep.
- Sleep is death.

Well, it's a waiting game, then.

You've been here two months,
sooner or later, you will fall asleep.

- I was brought here last night.
- Just think...

...two months without sleep.

Sixty days.

1440 hours.

You're lying. They brought
me here last night.

- Why should I lie about this?
- To confuse me.

To break my will, sometimes
you lie. For the hell of it.

Do your eyes hurt?

Relax.

Let your shoulders light.

Rest your neck.

Let that roll easily
against your chair.

Don't resist.

Your muscles are stiff by tension.

Release that.

Let them flow like gentle stream,

like distant sea.

We must break your
body to win your mind.

Pain ennobles both the
giver and the receiver.

Discipline will remain government
policy as long as you resist.

You can break my body but
you can't break my mind.

Will you sign this?

No.

- You are forcing me.
- To do what?

Things I don't want to do.

Doesn't that bother you to see someone
stretched out in front of you?

Aren't you worried
that this is your job,

that you do it without question?

Most men go to work in offices and
factories and you come here instead.

What made you this way?

Is it what they did to you?

Or is it a hidden sickness?

Some inner decay?

Resistance is foolish
which is why

we must break your
body to win your mind.

You can break my body but
you can't break my mind.

You can break my body but
you can't break my mind!

Right! Right!

Haven't you had enough?

Why don't you just sign?
Come on, give me break.

No.

What's that?

No.

That's what I thought you said.

Why do you refuse?
It is such a small thing.

Just a signature.

Think of it as an autograph...

...to a secret admirer.

No.

Thank you.

Children have to be
taught a firm lesson.

My God.

It's a closet land.
A flying cow.

The cat with green wings and friendly
roos... Whistle for me, please!

Whistle!

The closet. The closet.
There is no pain in Closet Land.

When your head aches,
a mushroom...

Whistle for me, please!

You don't answer...

Your toe-nails hurt?!
Poor child!

Get the cow, the cat
with green wings!

I got to the home of the cat.
The cat with green wings.

I got away. I got away.

I got away. It's a closet land.

Where is closet land?

It's in my mind.

You can break my body but
you can't break my mind.

As long as I can go to closet land,
all you have are my bones.

- Who lives there?
- My friends.

A flying cow.

A friendly rooster.
A cat with green wings.

I knew them since I was a child.
I'd close my eyes thight...

And I go away
and they come to me.

Floating in the air.

Why were you in the closet?

A man...

Mama's friend...

...he used to have
breakfast on Sunday.

I take the coats and scarves
and hang them up in the closet.

And that's when he...

When I was in the closet,
hanging up his coat,

that's when it first happened.

He used to smile after it was over,
like it was a secret between us.

I was five.

- Your mother never noticed?
- No.

No. She never noticed, poor
mama. Trusting, foolish mama.

Striding around.

I was too scared to tell...
The man. He said:

He would cut away my tongue
and chop off my head.

So every Sunday,
when he came...

...and visited I'd go to the closet...

...and I'd wait for him.

I'd shut my eyes tight...

...the church bells
used to ring...

...and my friends came to me.
The flying cow.

The cat with green wings.

I was even able to forget that he was
there with his hands under my dress.

I wonder...

...if you know, really know...

...the strength of your mind.

Most people break down
in a matter of hours...

...and you've escaped from us...

...on the back of a flying cow...

...and a cat with wings.

You're a strange and uniqe case...

...AB234.

We must go to closet land.

You're back in your
mother's closet, AB234.

You're back in your
mother's closet, AB234.

It's dark. You can't see a thing.

It's dark. You can't see a thing.

And you closed your eyes anyway,
because you can hear his footsteps.

You're back in your
mother's closet, AB234.

I know you like it, little creep.

Only five. And the eyes
of a whore.

Dear child, sweet, loyal child.

I know you like it, little creep.

Only five. And the eyes
of a whore.

Dear child, dear child,
sweet, loyal child.

Here comes the candle
to light you to bed.

And here comes the chopper
to chop off your head.

It's you.

Scream.

Scream.

Scream.

You won't scream.
You never did, not even then.

Such a knowing look
in such young eyes.

What made you this way?

Some hidden streak?
An inner sickness?

You had no hips then.

Tiny ribs like a sparrow's bones.

I could've broken them all
with one rough caress.

Sugarplum heart, beating
wildly in its cage.

Everything so small, so perfect.

You took away my innocence, too.

But when you grew up
and had other lovers

and when they touched you
and breathed your name

you froze and thought of me.

"Because thou hast the power
and own'st the grace

To see through and behind
this mask of me,

Against which, years have beat
thus blanchingly, with their rains,

and behold my
soul's true face..."

My soul's true face.

Why?

Why?!

Is that why you have
brought me here?

To finish what you started
when I was a child?

You are here as a dissident, you're
part of the tribe that thinks too much.

- If you'd continued writing
about flying pigs... - Cows.

Cows.

About flying cows and winged
cats, you'd have been safe,

but then we found Closet Land.

And when I'm back, right
start it, won't they?

I invented closet land
when you abused a child

and being punished now
after all these years

because I created closet land.

This must have been going
on here for ages, right? I mean...

The sudden intrusions at night. Always
at night I suppose, and the arrest.

Senseless charges...

...and brutality. I never knew...

...or else I didn't wanna,
I didn't wanna see.

I shut my eyes like
I did in the closet.

That woman down the street...

...a journalist.

About a couple of months ago
she disappeared. Vanished.

The maid said so. And we
all went on with our lives.

I remember going to
lunch with my publisher.

And here is this woman,
someone I never really knew,

I'd seen on the street, said
hello to even. Just gone.

They he came for her mother next.

An 80-year-old, toothless invalid.

Some men were searching
this missing journalist's house

while her mother set outside
on the street like trash,

waiting to be picked up. We all
passed her on the way to work.

I know I did.

And the old woman looked at me, in
the eye, I looked back, but I didn't see.

None of us did.

We just didn't notice.

Like my mama.

It seems to be the same thing, really.

Shutting a child in a closet,
and shutting a people away.

If you can frighten a child into silence,
you can frighten a people, too...

...and with time, they'll shut
their eyes and not scream.

I never screamed
in the closet, did I?

And the people won't
scream either.

They will go around pretending
everything's fine, everything's all right,

while their neighbours
disappear all around them.

And then they will
become like children...

Scared of bad men, the chopper
that'll chop off their heads.

That's what's so
terrifying because...

...children are so powerless.

And make such easy victims.

Such easy victims.

If I told you...

...that this is your last chance...

...that everything is at stake.

Everything.

Would you sign?

How do you shut a mind?

They cut out his tongue but
he found a way he whistled.

Then they found a way, that's
why he couldn't whistle to you!

Today, one little injection. He was
a physicist! Look at him now!

Not a care in the world!
Not a thought in his head!

And look at his eyes!

His empty, empty eyes!

It's all of pack of lies,
anyway, so sign it!

What do you care?
It's just a pack of lies!

"Today, over half the world's
governments continue to use

torture against their own citizens."
Amnesty International report, 1990

"For I can see that
in the midst of death life persists,

in the midst of untruth truth
persists, in the midst of

darkness light persists..."
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

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