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Tonight we'll take a closer look at what's turning into a dramatic ...

We're having technical problems. but we're working on them.

Helene-mouse? Come have a look.

You're on TV.

Look! You're on TV.

- What does it say? - "Technical mishap."

- What? - Where were you 22 years ago?

- Why? - I'm just curious.

I don't remember.

Credit card?

- Where were you 22 years ago? - In jail.

Okay, forget it.

Jesper, would you take over the till? I want to talk to Helene.

It's not like I didn't warn you.

No ...

What are you up to with those middle-aged guys, anyway?

- They could all be your dad. - Yes.

So could I, for that matter.

No!

- Oh ... there's a line building up. - A line?

EXCUSE ME

- That'll be 168. - My boss will pay you.

- How much? - 168.

168? You live 3 blocks away!

- I had to take a drive. My nerves ... - And the ending?

I was up all night, but had an anxiety attack and called the doctor and ...

- For fuck's sake. - You're 18 short.

Do you have a 20?

- Sorry. - Give me a break ...

If anyone bitches about 'The Stag', back me up. I sweated blood.

Beate is sure to say it's perverted and that I need to get laid.

Calm down.

The whole family finally together!

Here we are! I've been looking forward to this!

This looks great.

Do you have a sweetheart now?

- Why? - Today is cookie day.

You come home without them, so I assume you've been up to silly things.

Well, I haven't.

No?

What's wrong with the girl? She seems deranged.

I got fired.

Again?

Still, you could've remembered the cookies!

Was it something with a sweetheart? Were you fooling around?

You can tell me the truth, you know.

I'm just looking out for you.

I don't want anything to happen to you.

I know, Mom.

You're such a pretty girl.

- Goodnight, Mom. - Come on, little man.

- "Shall we lay down? - Oh, we're talking now?

- Don't you understand? - No.

- We must get through it together! - The stag.

- Do we need to talk about that? - It's blocking us.

Us? No. You!

It's blocking you! I'm past it.

- I want you to feel me." - Thank you! Terrific!

That was terrific! We're on a roll! Do you feel it?

Excuse me ...

... do you have any idea at all as to where this is going, Erling?

- Allan. - Of course! Allan. Sorry.

I was thinking along the lines of a rifle hidden under the couch.

And I like it when it snows.

Great. Let's get cracking and see if it ends up with snow or murder.

I'm sorry, but this isn't what I signed up for, Morten.

You said this would be my comeback.

You said that this was written for me!

- Am I right? - Sure.

This is about an old fool and his bizarre attraction to a stag.

- I'm sorry, Steen, but it's true. - You're on contract, Beate.

I've put my summer house and my marriage on the line for this place.

And you're the main attraction. I'm sorry, Steen, but it's true.

Isn't this what you want to show off?

Morten has this sick notion that people will rush here to see it.

Whatever. You signed a piece of paper, darling.

I guess my only option is to kill myself. Again.

I'm a laughing stock.

Initially I thought you wanted to fuck her, but you want to show off her scar.

- It's not that simple. I owe her! - For what?

It's a long story, and now I've made promises I can't keep.

- Can't you hay-roll out of it? - I have small children.

We have dwarf rabbits.

I had rabbits, too.

Will you do me a favour?

- Fuck her. - Me?

Damn straight! Give her a solid spray coating.

That would be good for all of us.

Oh, my God! You're kidding me!

- What are you up to? - I'm going for a run.

- Didn't we have an agreement? - Yes, I have to find work.

- Little Bear says he wants to come. - It never said that.

- He just did! - It can't run that far.

Well, if you have other plans. What a coincidence!

You have a new sweetheart -

- and then one of my old flames turns up in the paper. Isn't that funny?

- Well, isn't it? - Is it him?

'Is it him? Is it him?'

- Is that all you can think about? - Why tell me, if it isn't him?

Maybe because ... I once had a life, if that interests you in any way.

The Doomed Theatre

Little Bear!

Little Bear!

Little Bear!

I was on the phone with Steen all night about the damn stag.

He says he can't get an erection from a stag.

This is my dad's hunting rifle.

When I was a boy, there was this huge stag.

My dad was obsessed with it.

Then one day, he came face to face with it.

He took aim, pulled the trigger, but the rifle jammed.

- It jammed? - At least that's what he said.

He became a laughing stock and drank himself to death.

I got fat and shy. And that's why ...

... I'm not rewriting 'The Stag'.

Allan, come here.

If you can't, or won't, write the damn thing ...

... then make me a fire.

Not a crappy little trash can fire. An all-consuming mother of a fire.

Or ... a death.

At least the insurance will save my summer house.

- And your marriage. - Yeah.

- A fire or a death. - What do you think?

- Death is good. - Steen or Beate?

- Beate practically volunteered. - I have a better idea.

The Stag.

Put the fucking stag to death once and for all.

And finish the damn thing.

Little Bear?

Little Bear?

Hi, excuse me ... It's my dog.

Come here, Little Bear.

Does it do tricks?

Sure.

Sit!

Back, back.

Back, back ...

Walkies.

Thanks for the show, Little Buddy.

Thank you! Stop it now. That's enough.

Shall we carry on with the text?

If we have a text, that is.

Morten. I'm the director of this place.

- Helene. I'm sorry ... - Can you be here tomorrow at 3?

Tomorrow? Sure.

- What for? - I'd like to talk to you.

- I think I know what it is. - I doubt it. 3 o'clock.

Well, well. You just went over to the fancy theatre?

- Why did you go there? - You showed me the paper.

And then you go throw yourself into the arms of a stranger.

If it's him, he's not a stranger.

I never said it was him.

You never said it wasn't. So I assumed it could be.

I thought we were past all that.

They probably just need an extra.

But they'll have to pay you. And no nude scenes.

No, of course not.

And nobody touches your hair!

Goodnight, Mom.

And not a word about you know what. Goodnight.

Where's your dog?

- My dog? - I need a dog for my play.

Oh, shit! You thought I had a part for you.

Your dog will be part of the family. You bring it to the theatre every day -

- and that makes you part of it too.

Okay?

Imagine my little man on a real stage!

Are you mummy's little actor?

- So, can I take it? - Of course you can take him.

Just don't make a fool of yourself.

- Who's in it? - Steen Storgaard.

Oh my! Big Steen?

- Do you know how he got that name? - No.

Good. You don't need to know.

- Anybody else? - Beate Franck.

Well-well! Fancy!

Your plate!

- It's a dog. - Yes, that's a dog.

- We haven't talked about that. - What's to talk about?

Just put 'dog' instead of 'stag'.

God damn it! This has nothing to do with 'The Stag'.

It's about who's calling the shots. And that seems to be Beate and Steen.

You're dancing to their tune! You're the dog, I'm the dog shit!

This has nothing to do with 'The Stag'. I'll kill the bastards!

The dog is my decision, and mine alone.

I'll kill the fucking dog, then!

I'm sorry. I'm sure the dog is nice enough.

Morten is right about the stag. It's a bit forced.

No one can relate to a stag. Everyone knows a dog. It's silly.

A dog it is, Allan.

"You see the true me."

"I see myself in you."

"You show me who I am. I can feel my blood."

- "I can feel my sex ..." - Uhm ... from the top, Steen.

Okay.

"You see the true me."

"I see myself in you. You show me who I am ..."

No, no ... I'm not buying it, Steen!

Well, it's really hard! His balls are just dangling ...

Give me something to work with!

- Imagine yourself as a dog. - I've got this, thank you.

What did you say?

You're a dog looking at your best friend through your own dog eyes.

- Sweet, Helene ... - Try getting on all fours.

Why not.

"You see the true me."

"I see myself in you."

"This works for me."

"I see myself in you."

Don't ever do that again.

I'm sorry ... Dad.

What?

I'm sorry.

You're here to take care of your dog, and that's it!

Yes.

I hope you didn't make a fool of yourself.

No, Mom.

Hm ... Goodnight.

"I try to live the way you want me to."

"I try to love what you love. I constantly fail."

"But worst of all ..."

- Please, get off the stage, sweetie. - Yes.

Stay!

Is that supposed to be Beate?

Didn't she slit her wrists?

Not funny, I know.

I'm feeling sick again ...

Come on, little man, come!

DOG

"Only when I look into your eyes do I know I'm lying."

"I'm lying. Help me."

You're supposed to meet my dog.

It was Morten's idea.

Shall I leave him here?

Argh, I said 'him'. I usually say 'it'.

- What's the difference? - My mom says 'him'. I say 'it'.

I had rabbits as a boy.

My dad would practice on them in our back yard.

Shooting them, that is. With this.

Wanna try? Out the window?

How does it end?

I know. Shall I tell you?

It's so obvious. Would you like a clue?

I can't believe you haven't thought of it.

I think that's all for today. I have work to do.

- There's a photo shoot today. - You have to leave now.

Thank you for letting me meet your dog.

Why the hell would I care what your mom calls that stinky mutt?

Come, Little Bear.

- That's one super dog. - Super duper.

Yeah. Super duper.

But the dad stuff ... That wasn't super duper.

Because I'm not. Your dad, I mean.

No.

- But the dog sure is super duper. - Yes, you mentioned that.

It's super duper.

We don't really need you anymore.

The dog will be brought back and forth in a cab, so ...

... we don't need you anymore.

- Little Bear? - And the girl? She scares me.

- How old is she? 20? - Something like that.

'Something like that', Morten.

You were 19.

And now I'm 39 -

- and damn lonely in my 180 m2 flat with a sea view.

- Fuck me. - I have small children ...

You betrayed me, you asshole. Fuck me!

Don't betray me again!

Little Bear?

Little Bear!

Little Bear!

Little Bear ...

Hello? Helene? Helene?

Are you okay?

Where's Little Bear?

Little Bear?

Little Bear.

Little Bear!

Little Bear?

Little Bear?

- Hey! Stop! What have you done? - I didn't do anything.

Found it!

You're not going anywhere!

- What the hell? Did you kill it? - No!

Killing it and dumping it in a container? Are you insane?

I haven't done anything!

What did you do to the dog?

You killed one of my actors?!

What the hell were you thinking?

Ouch, damn it!

You reimbursed the Rialto Theatre when Niels Rodin had a coronary.

We open in 2 weeks, damn it!

Okay, I'll know for next time. If there is a next time!

No insurance money. Dead dogs don't count, it has to be a dead actor.

Any volunteers?

Helene, you shouldn't be here. Go home.

Let her stay!

We have two options.

Either we shut down the play, no insurance payment, no pay -

- and close down the theatre, or we find another dog.

- It's too late for that. - There are circus dogs, trained ...

No way, Morten.

Is a dead dog gonna tear down what we've spent 30 years building?

I'm not even discussing this! You signed a piece of paper!

Paper, paper, paper!

Don't you see? She did it!

I can play a dog. I know how it moves.

Get up.

What do you think, Steen?

Damned if I know.

- Steen? - I'll have to sleep on it.

- Did you come by car today, Steen? - I guess so.

There. You're not going anywhere.

So ... this is where you live?

- Yes, with my mom. - Right.

- Shall I explain about the dog? - She's at work.

I see.

She answers the phone at Save the Children.

- So, do you have your own room? - Yes, of course.

I bet it's cosy.

- Not really. - I'm sure it is. May I see it?

Nice ...

How were you going to play a dog again?

Could you show me?

No, not my coat ...

God damn it, stop!

You asked for it!

No!

- A Chinese man? - Yes.

There's a Chinese restaurant out back. But I think it was Beate.

- Beate? - Yes. She wants out of the play.

Or Allan. He still hasn't come up with an ending.

Or Morten. He thought the insurance would pay up -

- but a dog doesn't count, it has to be a real dead actor.

Maybe it's for the best.

You didn't ask about my doctor's visit.

How did it go?

Cancer.

- Again? - 'Again'?

It's no picnick, you know.

At least the dog has been taken care of.

But what am I going to do with you?

Or Steen, that bastard.

- Ouch! God damn it! - He raped me!

- Hell no! - He raped me!

Helene! you called me dad and claimed Beate killed your dog.

- And now Steen has raped you? - Yes! In the ass!

Jesus! Listen!

Steen has agreed to give you the part. You'll play the part of the dog.

Do you hear me? You'll play the dog.

Would you like that?

And become a real part of the family?

There, now. Apologize to Steen.

- Apologize. - I'm sorry.

- We do as you wish. - You do understand, right?

No, I don't.

Yes, you do. You do understand. We must get through it together.

We all find our own way. Too bad it's such a pain in the ass.

On the other hand, poor Steen. Big as he is.

Helene! The dog's up. Come.

I'll be on stage almost the entire time.

I'll do my own hair, I promise.

That's just great, Helene. Go for it!

- Shall I ... - Yes, of course. It's a dog.

Okay, Beate ... Beate? It's your cue.

Oh, right ... I'm sorry, from the top?

Yes, from your 'woof', Helene.

- Argh, damn it. - It's okay, Beate! Don't force it.

- Morten, a 10-minute break? - No! We just took one. Let's go.

Ah, hell!

I don't know how to work with this! And what about the damn ending!?

Allan?! Do I have to write the damn thing myself?

You're angry. Use it.

You feel desire and hate at the same time. You ...

... you feel powerless.

I don't feel a damn thing, Morten. Not a damn thing.

Yes, you do ... You feel abused.

It might be easier if she didn't have to feel so much.

You feel abused.

Why all this 'feeling' stuff? She has to understand it to show it!

Let's take a 10-minute break ... Uhm, no. Let's make it 5.

- Again? - Yes! Again.

Christ ...

- But I'm right. - Yes, you're right.

But you have no right to be right!

It's me or the chemo.

Will you trim it in the back for me?

- You're staying home today. - But we have rehearsals ...

There are plenty others who are dying to make fools of themselves.

Please don't.

Get out of my way.

Give me the scissors.

Give them to me.

Are you dead?

The ending?

- Read it! - What for?

It tells you how the ending should be.

Thank you.

But no thank you. Please, leave.

You don't have to tell anyone it came from me.

Okay.

- You're nice enough, Helene. - Just like my dog was 'nice enough'?

That was the very first thing you said to me.

Okay, then you're just nice.

So are you.

Get out! I'm working. Get lost.

That's too bad. For all of us.

Ouch! Damn it! She bit me!

- Don't stop! - She bit me!

Carry on, Steen!

Thank you. Great rehearsal.

Don't ever do that again.

The thing you did to Steen ... the biting.

Do it at the dress rehearsal, too.

And at every performance.

Morten?

- Not the 'dad' stuff again. - No!

- I need a place to stay. - Is that my problem?

Only if you need me.

It's very nice of you to let me stay with you, Beate.

Yes. Morten seemed to think it was a good idea.

It's still very nice of you.

Maybe it's my punishment.

Take whatever you need.

This is it.

And this isn't a transit hall. No overnight visitors.

Someone's here to see you.

My mom?

Remember! This isn't a transit hall!

Well-well, what a fancy visit.

The ending ... can we talk about it?

- May I take it with me? - Nope.

Visiting hours are over.

What's going on here?

- She said you'd discussed it. - It was trivial.

- Who asked you? - There's plenty of time to change it.

It would look ludicrous, if I ran around in a dog suit with a clip-on tail.

What did you have in mind?

The ending.

Would you take this seriously, please?

Right.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

We're working.

Hang on. Allan?

- Will you do me a favour? - Right now?

Later. I'll find you.

Dead? I thought we were just fetching your clothes.

- You don't know my mom. - Dead?

If so, how would she have ...?

She may have hanged herself from a wire.

Or maybe she slit her wrists and is lying in a pool of blood.

Morten's sick of paying your cab fare. He says you're cheap.

- Nonsense. - Then why do you do it?

It's just a little anxiety.

- About what? - Everything ...

Open spaces, busses, people ...

... my own body and ... I don't like to move about.

And I don't like my own heartbeat. It reminds me that ...

That you will die?

I like listening to mine. I want it to beat hard and fast all the time.

That's why I run.

Stop! A bakery!

- Dress rehearsal? - Yes.

Pre-dress rehearsal.

Sure. If I feel better, I'll be there.

- I'll leave a ticket for you. - Thank you, sweetie.

You're sweet.

- Why is your hiding place a secret? - It isn't.

The director found a place for me.

How generous. With anyone we know?

Yes, with Beate.

How fancy! Congratulations.

- Just for the duration of the play. - Who knows.

- It might turn into something more. - I don't think she likes me.

Don't try to protect me. I'm not a child.

- I'm sorry, Mom. - 'I'm sorry, Mom'!

- I'll go pack. - Isn't she sweet?

So, are you her sweetheart?

- No. - No? Oh.

Oh, well if you were, I just wanted to warn you.

Okay.

She probably didn't tell you, but she killed her baby brother.

- No. - Yes. She suffocated him.

She was 4 years old. Poor little mousy.

It screamed and screamed, the little devil. She wanted peace and quiet.

But, well ... Suffocating your own brother ...

- It was all blue. - Where were you?

And when she was 10 or 12 there was this one night -

- when I woke up to her threatening me with a pair of scissors.

That's why she must be locked up at night.

To protect her.

From herself.

But if you're not intimate, it doesn't matter.

I'm sure a starving writer like yourself could eat another cookie.

Say something.

What?

Anything.

- Your mom sure had tales to tell. - Say something else!

She asked me if I was your sweetheart.

So?

Am I?

What do you think?

I'm way too old for you.

- And too fat. - You're too afraid.

- Beate says it's no transit hall. - She's right, it's not.

- That's what I'm saying. - Yes.

Moron.

It takes one to know one.

Are you coming?

We should be going. The dress rehearsal is today.

And what will you do, if I say no?

What would I have done?

No.

The question is what I should have done.

When I was you.

We have to go.

One hour till curtain.

Pardon me ...

- May I have my dress rehearsal tie? - Yes.

Dry-cleaned and pressed.

Bye.

I needed a puff. One last puff. I knew you had some.

No problem.

It's funny ...

... I used to think you and I were meant to be.

- I thought it was always Morten. - Been there, done that.

- But me? - Why not?

It's quite a come-back, huh?

I get written out of my own play, and now I'm thrown to the wolves.

People only come to see these.

I didn't even cut in the right direction.

Any serious suicide candidate knows to cut lengthwise.

Aren't they expecting you in wardrobe?

And afterwards, Erling?

- Allan. - Oh, right. Fuck. I'm sorry.

Allan!

Allan.

Hey ...!

What are you doing here?

I have something for Morten, but now I can't find it.

Curtain's in 20 minutes, you know.

I'm ready. Completely ready.

You don't look ready.

I am ready.

I'm not ready.

- Not even remotely ready, Helene. - I know.

You don't even know your lines, Beate.

Go to wardrobe and rehearse! The rest of us are waiting!

That's easy for you to say. All you do is show off your ass.

At least I have an ass people want to look at.

Watch out.

- What's going on? - Beate's missing.

My mom isn't here.

- What's going on? - Beate's missing.

- I'll go call it off. - God damn it.

Thank you. Thank you.

Dear friends and family. I have some bad news.

We've had a ...

... technical mishap, so we have to cancel the performance.

I'm terribly sorry, but that's just the way it is sometimes.

Fuck it! This is too much!

Crap!

One of you must have been the last to see her or talk to her.

- I saw her right before curtain. - Did you talk to her?

I asked why she wasn't in wardrobe, and she said she wasn't ready.

That was obvious. She didn't even know her lines.

Shouldn't we find a way to get this back on track with or without her?

- I know all her lines. - That's it!

Go back to the apartment and call the minute Beate returns.

Do you hear me?

Is that diva bitch gonna tear down all that we've spent 30 years building?

Go!

Maybe she's dangling from a wire or lying head first in the oven.

Shall I go with you?

I'll see you in a minute, okay?

It's just a technical mishap, we'll soon be up and running.

It's a very special play, so there's really something to look forward to!

Okay. Thanks, bye.

- Reporters. They're psyched. - Are we going on?

'Are we going on?' The million dollar question.

So, are we?

Christ! The media is all over me. "What's going on? Where's Beate?"

- "Are you going on?" - Well, are we?

I'm not throwing away this opportunity.

I called Pernille. She'll step in if Beate doesn't show.

The bloodhounds will devour you.

The papers, the tabloids, all of them. They smell celebrity blood.

You betrayed her.

You dragged her from the closed ward and forced her to showcase her scar.

You then had an employee 'give her a solid spray coating'.

- There's plenty of dirt here. - Okay.

Okay. I have something to show you.

This is from the Chinese restaurant's surveillance camera.

It's our back alley.

Shit!

Damn.

Why didn't you show me this earlier?

We were in the middle of rehearsals. It would've shut us down.

If they go after me, I'll use this.

She's totally nuts. She's capable of anything.

Who are you talking about?

Why aren't you at the apartment waiting for Beate?

Allan promised to come with me.

Maybe she's in the tub soaking in her own blood.

- You think about it a lot. - What?

Death. Spectacular deaths.

You also thought your mom had died in all kinds of weird ways.

Why do you need to be locked up at night?

- I do things in my sleep. - What things?

Silly, weird things. Emptying the fridge and peeing in pots.

- What else? - I don't know!

Your mom told me about your baby brother.

Is that why you're in the front seat?

- Now you're afraid of me, too. - What happened to your brother?

I don't have a brother!

I never did! Who are you gonna believe? Fucking moron!

Would you close that door?

Hey ...!

Beate?

Beate?

No!

Beate?

Beate.

Beate.

Ta... taxi.

You owe me 18 kroner.

Don't leave me ... I'm afraid of open spaces.

- Please, let me in. I have anxieties. - Nonsense.

I have anxieties, man!

No!

No ...

What a mess you've made. I'll only tell you once:

You slept at home last night.

Do you understand? You slept at home.

I heard it on the news.

We have to get home before someone turns up here asking questions.

No, we have to do the play. Beate's back.

- Look at me. - Where is she?

Look at me!

They found Beate ...

... in the harbour.

Drowned.

They think it's suicide, and that's why you spent the night at home.

Do you understand what I'm telling you? Go pack.

Go pack!

And take off that silly getup!

She was torn to shreds by the harbour shuttle.

Her face was ... a mess.

The police think it's suicide which would be great for you -

- if it weren't so bad for me.

How do you mean?

Some people think I pushed Beate over the brink.

But did I, Helene?

No ... of course not.

I didn't think so.

Then who did?

- I don't know. - Well, you should know.

Look! You're on TV.

I wanna go home to my mom.

I'm sick. I'm sick up here!

Yes, you're sick. You need help.

And I'd like to help you, Helene. Shall I help you?

Yes.

You didn't mean to kill Beate, you just wanted to play her part.

- Just like with the dog. - But then things got out of hand.

Am I right?

- Not even close. - What are you doing here?

I'm here to pick up my child. Come, mousy.

Your 'child' just killed Beate and threw her in the harbour.

That's possible. It's even likely.

But that won't do you any good, because she slept at home.

That's why I lock her door.

Lock her door? How sick is that?

And just how sick are you? Let her go!

- Jesus, Allan! - Get over there.

- Morten, say something to him. - Get over there!

- Put down grandpa's rifle, okay? - I'm angry, and I'm feeling generous.

The first gift ...

... is from Steen. It's an apology.

Allan!

Apologize to Helene.

- No way. - We're busy, Allan!

There are more gifts. And this one's for you, Morten.

But I didn't do anything.

You practically killed Beate. We even have a piece of paper to that effect.

Give him this.

Read it.

Go on! Read it!

What the hell ... Can't we talk about this?

There's not a damn thing to talk about.

I have more gifts.

And this one is also for Helene.

Helene, would you like this pile of shit for a dad?

- I never said it was him. - Get over there.

- You never said it wasn't! - It could have been anybody.

- I had a life, you know. - Helene?

Would you like to have these poor suckers for parents?

Helene?

- Helene? - Princess mousy?

Helene?

You'll think of something.

Ouch!

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