Original subtitles

''THE LAST DAYS OF STEFAN ZWEIG IN BRAZIL''

Exile is the word they give to nightmare.

I fled to Paris, to London.

But everywhere I went, Gestapo thugs followed me.

My name is Stefan Zweig.

And this is the story of the strangest week of my life.

I first came to Brazil in 1936...

and immediately fell in love with the country.

By comparison, Europe was about to destroy itself.

If and earthly paradise exists, then it can't be far from Brazil.

Last year, exhausted and disillusioned...

I went back with my second wife, Lotte.

But it was a different Brazil that I arrived in.

And, besides, one can never really escape from a nightmare.

Cheers! To carnival.

And to Brazil!

Not now, Hubert. Thank you.

Come on, Herr Zweig!

Let's forget about all the work and politics.

I'm going to take you to see something unforgettable.

To Brazil!

To the eternal ''land of the future''!

Please, Hubert, I wrote that book before I came to live here.

Sorry. I didn't mean to...

They really dance through the streets naked?

You won't believe your eyes.

The whole world is turned upside down!

It all sounds so savage!

Hubert, must you?

Sorry, it's a habit.

Stop that, please!

Listen, Herr Zweig, you're right.

This is a wonderful country.

But the Brazilian intellectuals...

are either Stalinists or fervent Catholics.

And most of them, even the communists...

remain dictatorship's hostage.

Hardly a democrat among them.

Just a bunch of nationalist pigmies!

All they want is their job...

and someone to think for them.

So, why be so surprised with their criticism?

This country and its government have treated us well.

I should think we owed them a debt of gratitude.

The Brazilian society is not as open and free...

as they'd have you believe.

How is your health, Lotte?

It doesn't matter where I am. I still have my attacks.

This is a time of celebration...

yet we insist on discussing disease and tyranny.

Herr Zweig...

just because Vargas has given you your visa...

don't think he will automatically support...

your request for a Jewish homeland.

Don't forget that Salazar turned down your same request...

for a Jewish homeland in Portuguese Africa.

I'm fully aware of how dictatorships work.

But I sense Vargas is different.

Besides, Brazil is a continent.

I'm sure he will back my request.

Please, Herr Zweig, be careful.

Don't imagine for one moment that Vargas protects Jews.

You and a handful of others are useful exceptions.

Of course, he wants to look tolerant, especially by the Americans.

And dictators, they are all flirting with Hitler and Mussolini.

Hubert!

I'm sorry. It's stuck. It's stuck!

-Sorry. -Stefan, it's all right.

Stop it, Hubert! For God's sake!

-Turn it off! -Stop it!

Turn it off!

It's okay, Stefan. It's okay.

My dear friend, please forgive me.

I don't know what is wrong with me these days.

Perhaps it's old age.

No, Herr Zweig. Don't say such things.

In fact, I don't think you've ever looked so good.

Really!

-You're very kind. -Well, let's go!

Tomorrow we have carnival to celebrate.

The President of the Republic, Dr. Get�lio Vargas...

welcomes the eminent Austrian writer...

Dr. Stefan Zweig, to Brazil.

The Minister for Press and Propaganda, Dr. Lauro Pontes...

was in charge of protocol...

and introduced the celebrity to the Head of Government.

Dr. Zweig, accompanied by his wife...

and by his Brazilian publisher, Sr. Jonas Faerman...

presented the President with a copy of his popular publication...

''Brazil: Land of the Future''...

inscribed with a special dedication to president Vargas.

The President wished the well-known author a happy stay...

and urged him to write further books...

to the glory of his new home - Brazil.

Sing! Sing! Chop-chop! Sing! Sing!

Good, very good! Once more!

Stefan Zweig! Jesus, Stefan Zweig, here!

It's you! What a marvelous coincidence!

Stefan Zweig at carnival in Rio!

Believe me, Mr. Zweig...

when I got off the plane, I said to my producer:

''Get me an interview with Stefan Zweig.

He's a sublime writer. I must talk to him.''

But your agent or somebody said you were...

unavailable.

That's very kind of you, Mr. Welles.

You know, they are boycotting my pictures.

Here it's Vargas...

back home, it's Rockefeller and RKO studios.

Everything is tough!

I'm being censored. So now they send me here...

to film the Brazil of the postcards, the scenic Brazil.

But me, I want to shoot the reaI peopIe, the sIums...

the bIack guys, the bIack girIs!

Specially the bIack girIs.

The peopIe are what make a country speciaI.

Oh yes, Mr. Zweig! Yes!

Everything I Iearned about Brazil I Iearned from your book.

It's a masterpiece.

No other foreigner knows Brazil, understands Brazil Iike you.

And I say that to anyone who cares to Iisten.

It's no secret:

your book is the inspiration for my picture.

George! The book! Thanks!

See?

So Iong, Mr. Zweig. And enjoy your paradise!

And my congratuIations for having such a beautiful wife!

Stefan, are you coming?

Am I forgetting anyone, Lotte?

Why don't you take a break?

You've gone over and over the Iist for days.

I'll have pIenty of time to rest when our friends are here...

and safe with us.

Now... who have I missed?

What about the Feinbergs?

I've got the Feinbergs... here.

Stefan...?

There must be someone we are forgetting.

There must be someone we are forgetting!

Stefan, wanting to pIay chess against yourseIf...

invoIves a reaI paradox.

It's Iike jumping over one's shadow.

''Nothing on earth puts more pressure on the human spirit than a vacuum.''

''Nothing on earth puts more pressure on the human spirit than a vacuum.''

Hello?

Who is it?

Who was it?

Nobody, dear.

Wrong number.

God!

My God!

My God!

Stefan, are you going out?

Yes, I've arranged to meet up with young D'�vila. Remember him?

The young journaIist Faerman...

introduced us to in the paIace of Vargas.

I think he's Iooking for an interview.

Okay. But don't be Iate, pIease.

Of course not. Ten o'cIock sharp.

By the way, have you finished...

my notes on Montaigne?

So, Herr Zweig...

what a wonderful work are you writing now?

I have very few ruIes about writing, dear young fellow...

but one of them is never taIk about a work in progress.

You can't even give me a IittIe cIue?

Perhaps it's another book about Brazil?

This beautiful Iand where the future never arrives.

Have you ever heard of Montaigne's ''Essays''?

VoIuntary death instead of being forced to submit to servitude...

to moraI and ideoIogicaI sIavery. No?

No, I'm afraid not.

Tell me, AIberto, do you have access to ''m�e-de-santo''?

Herr Zweig, it is highIy illegaI.

The government forbids Umbanda.

I didn't ask you for the party Iine, I'm simpIy wondering if you know one.

I know of somebody who might heIp.

I'll see what I can do.

How beautiful you are tonight, L�onie.

Sorry, I meant you're as beautiful as ever!

Thank you, darIing.

Look, tell YoIanda that her cuddIy favorite has come back.

Look, that American, Welles.

You see, Mr. Zweig?

I carry it wherever I go!

One night in NY, I drank...

I Iiterally drank your book...

your Iove poem to Brazil...

aIong with two bottIes of Wild Turkey!

Naturally I pissed out that poisonous bourbon...

but your description of paradise stayed right here...

and right here.

I was aImost born in Brazil. Did you know that?

No. But thank you for your kind words, Mr. Welles.

I just wrote what I saw and feIt.

Besides, paradise is onIy possibIe when you Iook back.

And don't we do that everyday of our Iives?

Mr. Zweig... ''tudo � Brasil''!

-This means ''all is Brazil''... -I know, I know.

...the wonderful country of the worId!

All is Brazil!

All is Brazil!

Good evening. Good evening.

Every time I see these poor Jewish girIs...

my heart sinks.

That's Iife, my dear.

What couId we do to heIp them? Nothing!

The Jews themseIves expIoit them.

You know, Welles practically Iives here.

He has fallen in Iove with our bIack girIs.

If you don't enjoy Iife, my dear, it becomes mournful.

Good evening. You Iook gorgeous.

In Brazil we say that men who sIeep with whores...

are the most faithful to their wives.

She is ready for you.

You just cares about luxury and wealth

Everything you see you want

Oh my God How I miss Am�lia

That's what you can call a woman

Am�lia had no vanity at all

Am�lia was a true woman

Am�lia had no vanity at all

Am�lia was a true woman

Am�lia had no vanity at all

Am�lia was a true woman

Stefan?

Who is this?

Leave us alone!

Well, Herr Zweig, this is me here.

-I go up there. -Yes...

-You will be okay on your own? -Fine, my boy. Fine.

You're really too kind and generous to me.

Don't worry.

My dear, sweet young man, forgive me.

I... I didn't.. Good night.

Welcome home, Stefan.

Petr�poIis, perhaps our home forever.

It's not SaIzburg nor London...

but we are aIive.

Friderike...

Friderike...

''So many storms, such destruction at sea...

and within each wave seen death's own eyes.''

''So many storms, such destruction at sea...

and within each wave seen death's own eyes.

All the wars on Iand, such hypocrisy...

this disgusting, compuIsive enterprise!

Is there a refuge for human frailty?

Some safe port for our ephemeraI Iives...

where serene skies unIeash no well-armed squall...

to rage against creatures...

that are so small?''

Good morning, Frau Lotte, Herr Zweig.

-Sorry for being Iate. -It doesn't matter, Lourdes.

Thank you.

''No further resistance possibIe.

The whoIe British Empire hears news with deepest mourning.''

Excuse me.

What a disaster!

Singapore is now in the hand of the Japanese.

The whoIe worId is at war...

a war we are surely Iosing.

And I have to go and see that Pontes fellow!

I don't know what you're worrying about.

He seemed a nice man to me.

Why on earth does he want to see me this morning of all days?

He knows I have tonight's Iecture to prepare.

PIease, try to stop fussing all the time.

Perhaps Pontes wants to discuss the visas.

Besides, don't forget:

we are just guests here in this country.

Herr Zweig.

PIeased to meet you. Take a seat, pIease.

Santos Dumont is a grand Brazilian.

He soIved the mystery of fIight before the Wright brothers.

Brazilians, you see, not Americans...

were the first humans to fIy.

So you say, yes...

Herr Zweig, I'm sure...

you didn't know everything about Erasmus, Fouch�...

Americo Vespucci, Marie Antoinette...

KIeist, and yet you researched...

and Iook what wonderful biographies you produced!

I was interested in such characters.

Let me expIain something to you, Herr Zweig.

Just for your own good, you understand.

Brazil is an open country...

made up of all races and creeds, incIuding Jews...

who Iive in harmony with each other.

But we are aIso trying to build a new country...

and it is very important how we are seen by the rest of the worId.

That Orson Welles character, for exampIe.

The Americans think we are ignorant and stupid.

And they send that...

that communist to film our sIums...

to film the worst aspects of carnivaI...

a bunch of niggers jumping up and down Iike the Devil himself!

Forgive me, but...

is this president Roosevelt's good neighbor poIicy?

To bIacken the name of our government...

telling Americans that Brazil is the EIdorado of poverty...

Iust and decadence?

Mr. Pontes, I understand your concern...

but, really, I cannot abide...

simpIy cannot write to order.

Are you afraid of Iosing your readership in the US, Herr Zweig?

But, of course, take your time.

I'm simpIy a middIeman, a messenger of the President's will.

Mr. Pontes...

I thought we were meeting to discuss the visas...

your government promised.

Oh yes, for your Jewish friends in Germany.

Herr Zweig...

forgive me, but these are troubIing times for us all.

The worId is at war.

The President promised aImost two months ago.

They may not survive for much Ionger!

Just one more thing, Herr Zweig, about this book.

Santos Dumont's death.

Perhaps you shouId omit...

that one unhoIy matter.

To put it in a nutshell, Herr Zweig:

no one, in Vargas's Brazil kills himself.

Like all geniuses of his kind...

my euIogy may cause this taIented Austrian...

of nobIe Iineage some embarrassment.

But I need not tell you what an honor it is...

to have this rare opportunity...

to hear the man who ''reinvented'' our country with his book...

''Brazil: Land of the Future''.

Stefan Zweig...

is an exampIe of the unyielding, unbendabIe intellectuaI.

This man is an exampIe of resistance and moraI coherence...

when many others prefer to conform or abandon ship.

This man is a true champion.

PIease Iet's welcome Herr Stefan Zweig!

PIease, girIs. PIease. Hurry up. Hurry, hurry! QuickIy.

Thank you. You can put it here. There. Thank you.

In these times...

we Iive through facts excessively quickIy...

and we Iive through too many facts...

to remember them properIy.

I am unabIe to identify...

the ''I'' of my passport...

with that of the writer in permanent exile.

A man without a country, ironically, is a free man.

Our country has been taken by your paI Vargas!

He's right! Put yourself in our pIace!

Some of you...

question my devotion to freedom.

Well, I've aIways spoken pubIicIy against oppression...

against the vioIence that dictatorships wield.

Against the suppression of freedom...

which I have known, believe me, all too frequentIy in my Iife.

I have no freedom! What about Vargas?!

It is impossibIe for anyone to remove himself from the worId.

-Quiet! -Respect!

But I think an artist shouId never subjugate himself...

to any party or to the ideoIogy in fashion.

He who allows himself to think freely...

honors freedom on earth.

Jew, out!

My book has been misunderstood.

It's so unfair. Don't they see he's telling the truth?

Lotte, it's unbelievabIe! UtterIy disgusting!

PIease, Stefan, get off the stage.

You don't deserve this.

I'm just a poet.

There are no campaigns, no praise in my book.

I've seen good and bad and I've written about both.

What about poIiticaI prisoners?

Why don't you challenge Vargas's dictatorship?

Tell him to stop!

Tell him to stop taIking. This is absurd!

Go home, Jew!

Thank you, Herr Zweig, for such a stimuIating speech.

The greatest task in Iife is to know how to be yourself!

Get out of here!

Vargas's Iackey!

It was a shambIes!

I was a disaster.

No, Stefan, you did right. You stood your ground.

Do they really believe that I'm one of Vargas's Iackeys?

That I actually support this dictatorship?

They just don't understand you.

What they say about Vargas is true, it's undeniabIe.

But does it impede me to do business with him?

No. I must keep pushing him and Pontes.

If I distance myself of the regime, it will never happen.

Now they want that rotten book!

God!

I don't know, maybe we shouId have stayed in Europe.

Maybe we couId have done more there.

Stefan, my dear.

What practicaI good couId you have done back home?

You work here is far more important.

Your words are your weapons, darIing.

You are fighting!

Maybe you are right.

Now, pIease, come to bed. You must sIeep.

Tomorrow we have that awful visit...

to the Immigration Office with Faerman.

In a moment, dear. In a moment.

You're a great man, Stefan.

I Iove you.

Now, don't worry, Herr Zweig, Frau Zweig.

This is just a way for Pontes to show off his power.

It's a reguIar procedure...

concerning all German and ItaIian immigrants.

But with the Jews he's aIways extra vigilant.

I'm gIad to hear he's so concerned about us.

This way, pIease.

Thank you. Thank you.

Each month you must come and present yourself...

to just that you are still here and still aIive.

You see, Herr Zweig? Pontes wants you aIive.

Amusing, how very amusing.

In tsarist Russia, it was onIy the prostitutes...

who received yellow cards.

PIease, Herr Zweig, that's a bit strong!

Really, Stefan...

must you behave Iike an anxious IittIe boy?

Lotte, pIease, try to understand...

she's my onIy source of intellectuaI materiaI.

Is it from Friderike again?

-Good morning, Herr Zweig. -Good morning.

Good morning, Herr Zweig.

A speciaI delivery from NY.

I'm sorry. It's open.

You can't image how exciting it is.

The mail is my onIy Iink Ieft with the outside worId...

if some government censor gets to read it first.

I understand.

-See you. -See you, Herr Zweig.

''Dear Steffi, it was good to hear from you.

Here are the books on Montaigne you requested.

I searched every bookstore in NY for them.

It's freezing here now. How I miss Salzburg!

It's good to know that distance has not separated our hearts.

I forgive you for Ieaving me...

but has not forgotten the pain you caused.

The chapters of your autobiography I received...

tell me IittIe of you...

hiding once again behind History.

It's a pity, I'm sad to say...

but you have forgotten me, too.

Even so, I still Iove you...

even desire you sometimes.

Love and kisses, Friderike.''

Lotte!

Lotte, can't you controI that bIoody wretched dog?!

Lotte!

''My darling Fritzi, what a pleasure it was...

to receive your letter and the books...

for which I send you many thanks.

Letters are getting fewer.

It seems my friends have forgotten me.

Here, we are having a wonderful carnival week...

an extraordinary, magical, sensual event.

But my mind is far away from such things.

I cannot let myself be swept along by...

this wave of pleasure and drunkenness.

The catastrophe back home makes all joy impossible.

You'll be happy to know I'm writing again.

It's a strange novel...

like nothing I've written before...

about this game which has no element of luck.''

Should I get it?

No, no. I will take it.

Yes?

Stefan, is president Vargas!

Hurray, Lotte! We've succeeded! We've succeeded!

The President is in the fountain garden...

at this moment, with the pupils of the PubIic Junior SchooI.

At one-thirty pm, Iunch will be served in the President's private dining room...

but he wishes you to join him first in the garden.

After Iunch, you'll be driven home.

Mr. Zweig, I hope you do enjoy your conversation...

with our grand Ieader.

Madam. Sir.

Vargas! Vargas!

Vargas! Vargas!

You can go, pIease.

Herr Zweig, Frau Zweig...

...what a wonderful surprise! -Mr. President.

Those children, Herr Zweig, are the future of Brazil...

and they have inherited a proud past.

This country has never been stronger than it is right now.

My government is here for all peopIe...

not just for the elite.

Yet I'm still criticized, Herr Zweig.

Can you expIain that to me?

With respect, Mr. President...

you have aIso aboIished all opposition parties.

Yes, the communists and the fascists.

You censor the newspapers...

and you imprison those who speak out against you.

Herr Zweig, have I imprisoned you?

Did you not speak badIy of my regime in pubIic?

Since the First WorId War...

onIy the US has taken more of your peopIe Io Iive...

and earn money than Brazil. Did you know that?

So?

I really appreciate your continued consideration of the visas...

which, I believe, are yet to be sent.

Yes, yes. PIease, Iet's Iisten to the music.

My God!

You know...

us Brazilians are a very mysticaI peopIe.

Like anybody else, I'm both a skeptic and a believer...

in signs and messages.

Do you dream often, Herr Zweig?

I do.

I'm having awful nightmares.

Have you ever dreamt of being dead?

Or even taking your own Iife?

It's terribIe...

believe me.

Mr. President, forgive me...

but they say that one dreams of one's own death...

it means you will have a Iong Iife...

that death is still far away.

Perhaps, Frau Zweig, perhaps.

But I worry about... about my future...

and about the future of this country.

I am Brazil and Brazil is me!

It's an incarnation of my strength, of my will.

I'm afraid that death will grasp me...

and all my pIans and projects for my peopIe...

will disappear with me.

My friends, perhaps I'm being too dramatic!

No, not at all, Mr. President.

Tell me, Herr Zweig...

how is the research on Santos Dumont coming aIong?

Pontes toId me you've taken to the idea...

of writing his biography.

Not a word about the visas.

Damn Vargas!

He's Iike SaIazar: onIy words, promises, dissimuIation.

The Portuguese are masters in dissimuIation...

and Vargas is an excellent pupil.

So...

Now... am I supposed to become a mere court scribe...

bargaining for Iives according to the wishes of the IittIe dictator?

To hell with Santos Dumont's fIight!

Stefan, pIease speak Iow.

Him and that worm of his, Pontes...

think they can force me to write what they want!

She's saying that she has been waiting for you.

So much running from yourself...

from your peopIe.

You must heaI your souI of bad thoughts.

Your pan is not here.

On the other side of the earth...

that's where your devils Iie.

An oIder woman is going around your head.

She's calling you...

while the other one means a caIvary for you.

She senses... you have dark pIans in your mind.

You shouId turn your back for all this.

You shouId find a new direction in your Iife.

She's saying that after we die...

we enter a time that existed before we were born.

Therefore, what importance can have death?

She's asking you to Iisten carefully:

no one dies before his time.

They'd given me the day off.

Such nice peopIe.

But this...

this is awful!

How couId she know of these things?

There were moments when I felt was reciting...

passages from Montaigne's ''Essays''.

Reincarnation is an important part of Umbanda.

Our other Iives in other eras...

even in other pIanets, they affect this one.

Maybe she was reading my mind. Maybe it was telepathy.

I have Montaigne in me from head to toe...

I even dream about his thoughts.

But I suppose telepathy is no more pIausibIe than reincarnation.

Just does make sense.

These things cannot be expIained...

in the Iight of reason, Herr Zweig.

Either you accept them or you don't.

I believe in them and it's sometimes frightening.

Their powers of premonition are terrifying.

It means that everything is preordained...

that everything is aIready said and done.

That's one of the reasons I stay away from it.

PIease, you don't believe that, do you?

That everything is all Iaid-out?

No, I don't. And that's a probIem.

Our belief system can't expIain what happened.

We shun the inexpIicabIe, they embrace it.

Who's to say who's right?

I'm sure they find our believes just as baffIing.

They Iive in one worId, we Iive in another.

But Iast night the two worIds met...

and it was more exhilarating than either one aIone.

You shouId have seen you face, Stefan.

It was Iike you were somewhere else.

How couId she know about my most intimate past?

How couId she?

A toast...

to Stefan Zweig, the voodoo Jew of Brazil!

Cheers!

I admit I am defending a serious breach of doctrine...

but Herr Zweig is a speciaI case.

He has offended a naturaI Iaw:

''God gives and onIy God takes away''.

It appIies to all of God's peopIe...

but, gentIemen...

Herr Zweig was one of our greatest.

He attempted to safeguard our History...

our cuIture in his work.

But my onIy fear, ShoIem, is that it will set a bad exampIe.

By allowing him to be buried in the Jewish cemetery..

we will make an exampIe of his Iife rather than his death.

The Jewish community will be watching.

A proper buriaI is a more fitting end...

than the one he chose for himself.

I agree with ShoIem.

Now more than ever, we must Iook after our own.

Herr Zweig shouId be buried in the Jewish cemetery here in Rio.

Agreed?

Very well then.

Now we must go to Petr�poIis and tell them our decision.

But we have a probIem to face:

Herr Zweig was affiliated with the Vargas regime.

Thank God you're here!

We're having a terribIe time in there.

Even when he's dead, Herr Zweig is a victim of injustice!

They're using him as a poIiticaI football!

Who's responsibIe for the funeraI rites?

-We'll sort it out right now. -His coffin! His coffin is open!

There are fIowers and wreaths all over the pIace!

It's an absurd! What are we going to do?

CaIm down. CaIm down, Mr...?

Teitelbaum. Israel Teitelbaum.

Mr. Teitelbaum...

Iet's try to resoIve this peacefully.

As Jews, we must take great care.

By all means, rabbi, by all means.

Rabbi.

Excuse me, rabbi Pech.

I'm sorry, but the request of the government authorities...

I wouId Iike your approvaI.

I have aIready agreed to send the bodies to a non-Jewish cemetery...

...here in Petr�poIis. -No, no, no!

We've come all the way from Rio to grant the Zweigs buriaI...

on sacred Jewish ground.

They will be buried in Rio, in the Jewish cemetery.

Really, rabbi Koning!

Wherever a Jew is buried the ground itself becomes bIessed.

Mr. Pontes, I am here on behaIf of the Jewish community...

Mr. Pech...

did Herr Zweig Ieave any instructions as to where he wanted to be buried?

-Not that I know of, but... -Without expIicit instructions...

the matter is far from settIed.

Herr Zweig was a prominent member of the Jewish community.

President Vargas wants to honor Herr Zweig...

and his wife with a proper State buriaI...

here in Petr�poIis.

Now, as far as I know, and I knew Herr Zweig quite well...

he never made a point of his Judaism.

In fact, I am surprised by your zeaI.

They will be buried here, Mr. Pech, not in Rio.

As for Herr Zweig's religious practices, Mr. Pontes...

they are better Ieft to heavenIy judgment.

His buriaI shouId be decided by the community.

I believe I can resoIve this dispute.

These are Herr Zweig's Iast wishes...

written in his own hand the day before yesterday.

''I wish to be buried with full Jewish rites...

in a small, simpIe ceremony in my beloved Rio de Janeiro.''

So, there you have it.

The ghost of Herr Zweig affirms his faith.

He is Jewish, Mr. Pontes.

And we, the rabbis, will allow him to be buried...

in the Jewish cemetery in Rio.

I saw him onIy yesterday.

He said he was going on a journey.

Maybe he was trying to send a message...

and we didn't get it.

-Do you know how they did it? -No.

There are rumors that they took rat poison...

God!

...but Vargas has forbidden an autopsy.

He cIaims that he wants to respect their privacy.

Dictatorships don't Iike autopsies.

Poor Lotte!

She was so young, and such a good companion.

I don't know what couId have been so bad...

as to make them do this.

You know when I first knew the real Stefan Zweig?

When I read your biography of that suicidal poet, Kleist.

I thought, this man must have died once...

to have so much understanding and empathy.

It's a blessing we're together.

''Now it's all in order.

The eternal intranquillity is at peace.

That which is destroyed finds itself in complete union with the world.

Because only he who has been torn to pieces...

feels the desire for perfection.''

''Eventually my frenzy mounted...

during the game itself.

I did nothing else from morning to night...

to such a pitch that I couldn't sit still anymore.

The driving desire to win, to dominate, to defeat myself...

gradually became a kind of madness.

How this horrible, unspeakable situation came to a head...

I cannot tell you myself.

All I know is that I woke up one morning...

and the process was suddenly different.

It was as though I was outside of my body.

I don't know how much thought I've given...

to the intellectual character of this royal game.

But it's absurd, logically speaking...

to want to play against yourself.''

''Dear President Vargas...

the delicious lunch was only matched by the sight...

of those wonderful Brazilian children.

I must return, however, to a graver topic...

namely the matter of the homeland.

The slaughter of Jews continues.

My personal, lifelong dream of a free, united, democratic Europe...

a continent without passports, has been snuffed out.

Barbarism is everywhere.''

I appeaI to you once again to approve our pIan...

for a Jewish homeland in Brazil...

an act oh humanity which wouId give Iife...

to those who face certain death!

Good morning, miss.

Good morning.

-How are you today? -I'm very well, thank you.

And thank you for the Iovely gift.

It's the Ieast I couId do.

I think I'd Iike to buy some stamps.

How about three sheets?

Three sheets?

My! You must have many friends.

Can I get the ones with the animaIs and the birds on them?

They really are beautiful, aren't they?

Yes, they are. But they're onIy stamps.

The reaI ones are all around us...

and I wouId rather see the reaI thing.

-Goodbye. -Bye!

Well, but Brazil has been such a wonderful new home...

for some many refugees.

And not just now, but for more than a hundred years.

It's a country of immigrants.

Do you really believe that it's been...

a welcoming home for the Jews?

Well, yes. Yes, Iook at us! Aren't we doing okay?

Mr. Faerman, don't you think it's time...

to take off your rosy gIasses?

Look here, you were treated differentIy.

As Jews, you arrived with money, with contact, with education.

What about the hundreds of Jewish prostitutes...

in the streets of Mangue's brothel?

Brazil hasn't been good to them.

Jewish prostitutes?

It's true.

These women were brought to Brazil from PoIand...

your country, Lotte...

from France, from Germany, brought under faIse pretences.

Have you ever heard of the Tzi MigdaI, the Jewish crime syndicate?

They are responsibIe for it.

A member of the organization proposes to a young woman...

she accepts, they travel to South America...

to begin a new Iife, and when they arrive, the trick is reveaIed.

She is forced into prostitution.

That's horribIe! Someone shouId do something about it.

It's not possibIe. The Tzi MigdaI is too powerful.

''Let there not be a whore amongst the daughters of Israel!''

Stefan!

What? It's a fact.

Jewish prostitutes are made by Jews.

We seem to be the whipping whores of the worId these days...

and still we are punished by our own peopIe.

Attention to this newsflash:

a German submarine has attacked the Brazilian steamship Buarque...

off the coast of the US today.

The brutal and coward aggression has caused many deaths.

This is the first reprisal by the Axis Alliance...

since diplomatic relations of the Brazilian government...

with German and Italy were broken last month.

The war has reached paradise.

When we Ieft LiverpooI for NY...

the ship's captain visited our cabin.

He expIained that our trip wouId be a highIy dangerous one.

The sea was full of Nazi submarines.

Stefan and I knew that, but we Iistened to him...

not really understanding where he was getting at.

Then, without any further expIanation...

he deposited two IittIe capsuIes in Stefan's hand.

He said he had to do it...

and had aIready done so with most of the other passengers.

It was his duty, but it was an officiaI matter.

In case of attack, each of us wouId have the chance...

I think I meant ''choice''...

to die by swallowing the cyanide capsuIes...

rather than being drowned or captured.

This world of ours

can be a peaceful world

As in this night when people everywhere

Gather in prayer to our Lord above

Most guiding light shows us the way to love

This silent night

The world of ours is one

And everywhere the hand of God's become

The greatest might our world has ever known

The wondrous sight

No one is not alone

Stefan is unhappy and there's nothing I can do about it.

Maybe he needs to be Ieft aIone.

But it's getting worse. What if I were to Iose him?

Lose him?

I think the guilt is driving him away. He's cIosing in on himself.

Lotte, we are all suffering from this war, being in exile...

but we shouIdn't feel guilty about being aIive.

We are aIive, but we are orphans.

The Iast thing we have is each other.

And that's what I don't want to Iose, what I can't Iose...

and I am Iosing him.

Is he pIanning on Ieaving?

Do you know that he once asked Friderike to die with him?

The answer was...

''If you want to die, do it by yourself.

Why do you need company?''

I'm sorry, but it's just so true!

It's okay, really.

It doesn't matter.

Come here.

Look what I've brought you, honey.

This is the worId...

your worId...

the worId beyond Brazil.

What? You don't Iike them?

No, they are beautiful.

The worId that you'll never see again.

Never again.

But that will be good for me because I will have you forever.

Sorry. I'm joking.

I'm just feeling giddy.

I said I'd write your Santos Dumont book.

Now, where are the visas?

Just tell your people to do something.

Now! Or else...

Or else what, Herr Zweig?

You won't write the book?

But you yourself said they are two separate issues.

The truth is you need to write a successful book in this country.

''Brazil: Land of the Future'' was an enormous success here...

it soId hundreds of thousands of copies.

Even that waIking cash register Faerman was thrilled.

Oh, Faerman! A very good saIesman.

You're Iucky to have him working for you.

Now, Pontes, Faerman is not the point.

But he is, Herr Zweig, he is.

Who do you think bought all those copies?

You honestIy think that, in a country of millions of illiterate...

many Brazilians were interested in the opinions of a foreigner?

What?

Let me show you something, Herr Zweig, just between the two of us.

PIease.

Look, Herr Zweig.

I mean...

you couIdn't...

CouIdn't what, Herr Zweig?

You couIdn't!

They had a saying in England which I always liked very much.

Now I'm not so sure.

They used to say, there's no fool like an old fool.

Lotte? You startIed me.

What are you still doing up?

You know I can't sIeep until you're home.

I'm sorry, dear.

It's just that I got distracted with that vile creature Pontes.

God! I'm beginning to hate that man.

He's so sIimy that he Ieaves a trail.

I know.

It's okay. Let's get you to bed.

Stefan?

Stefan?

Lunch is ready.

God, the water is practically freezing.

We have just received word...

that the Germans are refusing to recognize the visas.

After PearI Harbor, you know, everything became more difficuIt.

They will not allow your friends to Ieave for Brazil.

It's out of our hands, Herr Zweig.

There's nothing more we can do.

But we have aIready tried again. The war is changing.

This was our Iast and finaI chance.

I'm afraid that won't be possibIe.

The President is in negotiation with the Americans...

for the next two weeks.

If you had some sort of arrangement with president Vargas...

I have not been made aware of it.

So, we'll take up this matter another time.

For now, I'll Iet you go back to sIeep.

Good night, Herr Zweig.

God, why have you forsaken us?

How couId I have trusted a dictator again?

I'm so ashamed!

Damn SaIazar! Damn Vargas!

Idiot! What an idiot you are, Zweig!

They are dead.

They're all dead.

The Cohens...

The FIeishers...

The Brauns...

all of them...

What do you mean, Stefan?

How do you know?

Because Pontes toId me...

that the Nazis won't recognize the visas.

That's if Pontes ever even sent them!

So that's the end of it for them.

-But the President... -Vargas?

That spineless creature, that dissimuIated character?

As far as he's concerned, we don't exist anymore either.

Why did I marry you?

Was I lying to myself?

God! How worn-out you look, exhausted by life...

wounded...

The vanity of it! God, Stefan!

How could you be so cruel?

You've never really forgave yourself for leaving Friderike, did you?

An attempt to kill the illness of old age.

Check mate!

Lotte!

My dear Lotte.

Once I was in a travel bureau in London...

the pIace was filled with refuges, aImost all Jews.

And all of them wanted to go somewhere, anywhere.

They just wanted to go to another pIace.

Anything was better than where they were.

I knew at that moment, with a terribIe cIarity...

what the future wouId hoId.

You saved me.

And the future has come to past.

This nightmare without end.

I had hoped that, naively, for something else...

I really believed I couId make Vargas do something...

despite all the signs, all the warnings.

I have ignored my inner voice for quite some time now.

Lotte...

I'm through.

There's still time for you.

You have youth and hope.

These Iast things I don't have.

Stefan, you know I've Ioved you since we first met.

I Iove you more than myself.

I just want to be sure.

Isn't there any other way out?

Are we condemned?

Is this what you really want?

I think you shouId be the first to know...

but I tell you under strictest confidence.

So pIease don't say a word to anyone until after we have gone.

I don't understand.

What about your work?

Your Montaigne biography and ''The RoyaI Game''?

Aren't they ready to go to the pubIisher?

I wouId say...

at this moment our absence is more important.

When will you be back?

Our pIans are a IittIe hazy.

Lotte is sick, I'm exhausted.

All of the excitement has made me tired.

I mean no offense, Herr Zweig...

but aren't you just running away?

You know, AIberto...

it's not onIy pIants and teeth that can't Iive without roots.

Men and women are not better off.

Well, I suppose the war can't Iast forever.

No, my friend. All things must come to an end.

''Dearest Friderike...

by the time you receive this letter, I will be feeling much better.

Although I'm writing this letter in my last hours...

you can't imagine how happy I am.

Please don't grieve for me.

Be cheerful knowing that I'm happy and at peace.

I have not felt so good, so vital...

and so full of purpose for many years now.

My decision is a relief and a release.

Please accept my love and friendship.

Forever yours, Stefan.''

Here we are.

Thank you, Herr Zweig. Thank you.

This is okay.

This is the Iast fitting, Herr Zweig.

In a week you'll be abIe to show it off...

to receive from the President the visas for our friends.

Fine. I hope so.

The cut is a IittIe bit different in Europe nowadays. It's more cIassicaI.

If you couId do the same as the suit my wife brought in...

I'll try to do the best I can, Herr Zweig, and a IittIe bit more.

We're twenty years behind here in Brazil...

excuse me...

but we are the kings of a perfect imitation.

Wonderful!

Wonderful, Herr Zweig!

Good evening, friends.

-Welcome. -Thank you for the invitation.

Welcome, Hubert.

Well, you're in a good mood!

Yes, I am in a good mood. Must be a prospect of a journey.

So, what's all this I hear about you two taking off again...

on a mysterious trip?

Hubert, I've been thinking...

I remember when I first came to Brazil, back in '36.

I felt I had already been here or at least a part of me had been.

Dorothea, Hubert. Thank you for coming.

The first gift I ever gave to Friderike...

sorry, honey...

back in 1 91 2 or 1 3, was an ashtray...

with one of those amazing blue butterflies in it.

It was very pretty, exquisite.

Frau Lotte? Frau Lotte? Dinner is ready.

Thank you, Lourdes. Shall we?

Where was I?

Yes. Well, to make a long story short...

I didn't realize then that the poor butterfly...

didn't deserve to be encased in glass.

You never cease to amaze me, Herr Zweig.

You're as erratic as the flight of a butterfly.

But that's what I like about you.

May I?

-Thank you. -You're welcome.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

Perhaps it's time for a toast.

To the flight of a butterfly!

Hello?

Who is it?

Just a minute, please.

Herr Zweig, it's Mr. Faerman.

He needs to have a quick word with you.

Dorothea, Hubert, my dear Lotte, pardon me for a second.

Yes, Jonas.

Good evening.

Don't worry.

Oh, dear!

Have you called a doctor? Good, good.

No, no problem. I'll give your apologies to Lotte.

Yes, it's a pity we can't say goodbye personally.

Yes, the manuscript has gone to NY.

I called it ''The Royal Game'', ''Schachnovelle''.

Do you like it? You'll get a copy tomorrow.

I think so.

In fact, I think it's the best I've ever written.

Yes, yes. And to Hannah, too.

Farewell, my friend. Keep me in your thoughts.

No matter what happens.

We have gifts for you.

But this is your grandmother's!

Yes.

Now you will never forget me.

They look beautiful on you.

Herr Zweig...

do you think we should have stayed in Europe?

Joined the Resistance?

Fought like everyone else?

At times I've been overwhelmed by guilt.

At other times I've felt like there's no use feeling guilty...

for what's already said and done.

It's a permanent conflict that can't be resolved.

In your case you were right to get out.

You're no longer young and you've already done so much.

Hubert, it's rather like when a couple separates.

But here. These are yours. The original Montaignes.

What? You have the complete set of originals?

Yes, you know Friderike. She's always so zealous.

She sent the missing ones to me. Isn't that great encouragement?

It's like a sign from heaven.

''The more voluntary death is...

the more beautiful it is.

Life depends on the will of others...

death, on one's own will.''

''The more voluntary death is...

the more beautiful it is.''

My dear friend...

do you really believe this?

I don't know.

I don't know.

But... who knows?

Only you, old virus.

My loyal companion for some many years.

My old, indestructible virus.

You're the only thing that enchants me and doesn't abandon me.

My invisible mirror.

Yes...

my invisible, unshakable mirror.

-Have I forgotten anyone, Lotte? -No one, dear.

Did you check carefully?

I've made coffee.

I can heat up some milk.

No, no. Black's fine.

''I want to give heartfelt thanks to this wonderful country...

which has been for me and my work...

so good and hospitable a resting place.

Every day I have learned to love this country better...

and nowhere would I more gladly have rebuilt...

my life all over again...

now that the world of my native tongue has perished for me.''

One wouId need special powers to begin completely afresh.

But now that I'm 60...

my reserves are exhausted after long years...

of homeless wandering.

''It seems to me, therefore, better to put an end...

in good time and without humiliation...

to a life in which intellectual work...

has always meant the purest joy and personal freedom...

earth's most precious possession.

I greet all my friends!

May they live to see the dawn after the long night is over!

I, all too impatient, am going on before.''

''Lourdes, please look after the plants and don't let the orchids die.

Today, for the first time, Dorothea, I feel happy.

I'm not afraid anymore.

I freed myself from the torture of pity and self-pity.''

''I don't hope for posterity through my life's works.

My last look embraces the supreme beauty...

of paradise lost.''

With the sudden, tragic death of famous European writer...

Stefan Zweig...

the world loses the voice which best described the grandeur of Brazil.

Authorities and the people of Petr�polis...

attend the funeral of the author of ''Brazil: Land of the Future''.

Representing president Vargas...

his Minister for Press and Propaganda, Dr. Lauro Pontes.

A close, personal friend of the deceased...

he pays tribute to this great man.