Original subtitles

I want to tell you the truth about youth and love.

The truth about a feeling that you can only feel once.

A feeling that makes you so crazy -

that you're willing to sacrifice everything.

For the rest of your life, you'll miss -

the things that you found revolting and caused you the most pain.

I want to tell this story to my daughters when they've lost -

the ability to picture me as a young and vibrant woman.

I've already seen myself telling them.

Mom and her lover.

Mom, crazy in love. Beside herself.

- Hi. - Hi.

Juhana.

Inka.

LOVE AND FURY

Unfortunately I can't remember things very well.

Many people expect-

my old self to emerge at any moment.

You shouldn't. All my life, I've been crazy.

Not just crazy. Also crazy in love.

Finnish literature is dead. - It's stagnant and pompous.

It needs the arrogance and frenzy of punk.

The literary intelligentsia of the 70s want to look damn smart.

The outcome is incomprehensible literature.

The literary establishment is plagued with neonarrow-mindedness.

Stupidity is a taboo after the awareness of the 70s.

Punk is fantastic because it's openly unintelligent. - Yes!

Genius has its limits, but stupidity is limitless.

You want to be provocative like all youth movements, -

but you're offering stupidity as a substitute for intelligence?

Why should I take you seriously?

Because the cultural establishment is apathetic.

We need new ideas and young people.

If you kids proclaim the music of brutal men as your own, -

it's just a neurosis, not an alternative movement.

Your new wave is complete shit.

New wave is an alternative worldview -

to the prevailing political and cultural stagnation.

Let's see which of you will write a great novel in the next ten years.

In ten years, half of you old farts will have died of liver failure -

and the other half of a heart attack.

What do you call the things horses wear over their eyes? - Blinders.

An alternative worldview to political and cultural stagnation?

What about it?

You write that literary intelligentsia is pompous, -

yet you use quite a lot of foreign words.

Was there something you didn't understand? I can explain.

Not a bad show.

You provoked everyone, both the right and the left.

Thank you, "Literary Sensation of The Fall."

Or should I say, "Debut Novelist with a Capital D"?

You've been reading magazines.

My favorite is "The Embodiment of Young Narcissism and Hubris."

This evening is gonna make such a cool episode in Rock Reportage.

Hi. Niko. - Juhana.

Congrats. I heard they're making your book into a film.

Yeah, they're working on the script.

When will it come out? - I don't know yet, -

but they'll shoot it next year. - Cool.

AND A SHEEP

A BUNNY AND A SHEEP SHIVER TOGETHER BUT FEAR NOTHING

After-party at my place!

I have the morning shift; I can't go. - I'll go for a moment.

You live in Eira? - No, in Ullanlinna.

Same difference. Not my kind of neighborhood.

This is my kind of hood.

I grew up eating off gold plates and drinking from silver goblets.

And my balls are two diamonds.

FOCAL POINT

Hi. - Our show worked!

Write about anything. Question things and create something new.

I'll write about Nietzsche's anarchism.

I'm gonna take rocker Nurmio to the countryside. By taxi.

I'll explore Stockholm's kinky clubs. Kaapo will take the photos.

I'll analyze the torture scenes of my favorite films.

I'll write about homosexuality being declassified as an illness.

I'm doing the "Interview with the Old Fart of the Month."

The deadline is two weeks from now.

I declare this meeting closed and heavy drinking started.

You want to go brainstorm?

Some other day. I'm not horny right now.

Hi. - Hi.

THE WOMEN'S ROOM MARILYN FRENCH

The New Generation Marches Forward

Punk, Power and Literature

You should buy decalcifier for the Coffeemaker, Morn.

I want to break up. - With me or the other one?

"Joy is the transition from lesser perfection to greater perfection."

What? - Spinoza.

A Dutch philosopher from the 17th century. His greatest statement is:

"Joy is the transition from lesser perfection to greater perfection."

This is a key novel, right?

With some alterations, yes.

What do your characters' alter egos think of you stealing their lives?

They're such big narcissists they're just proud of it.

What about the main character? He's the biggest narcissist.

Everyone likes me. It's a terrible curse.

What is your next novel about?

Cowardice.

My main character is a man, a coward.

He's about to become a loser when he realizes -

that he has to have the courage to do anything at all, and...

...something. I don't fucking know.

I should probably live a bit more.

They're my ancestors.

I'm the first one in my family not to become a doctor.

I'm a dropout, who wastes his life writing -

in the hubris of conquering the world.

I'm also the first in my family. - First to do what?

What do you want to write about in the editorial?

Let's write about the smell after lovemaking. - Sure.

Can You Smell It? It's POST COITUM ODOR.

Buy an issue of Mistake- a scandalous moral underperformance!

Your punk rebellion has been criticized for unintellectualism -

and the lack of understanding social realities. What do you have to say?

Old farts attend the president's reception in white tie;

we walk naked wherever we want.

Punk is a counterlifestyle, an antimovement.

Communism is dead, and realism is dead.

Punk is alive and will steamroll over everything old.

We are Mistake.

We don't support anybody or anything.

We don't believe in anybody or anything, except ourselves.

And ourselves we don't take seriously.

But we know that in the beginning there was the word, -

and the word was...

.“huh?

That's our truth and leading principle.

We're not smart; we'll never be aces, so let's be zoned out.

Sim Sala John, what are you doing in that hat?

I'm waiting for Yoko.

John... Why did you want to publish a photo of your balls -

on the cover of the White Album?

Because daring is the most important thing.

You have to dare to do anything, anytime, -

without caring about what others think.

John, what is the most important thing in the world?

Fucking, peace, marijuana.

And of course Yoko.

Fuck every government! Fuck every religion!

Imagine there's no heaven, only sky upon us!

There were two sons of God, and Sim Sala John was the more popular one.

And now they've killed him...

...billow towards a rebellion.

We must fly outside morals, laws and gods.

We, with our hearts, towards the sky, -

freedom, the world!

Flying because I

Inka! - Hi.

Inka, I've been lusting after your skin the whole day.

Take your shirt off. - I'm taking it off.

I kiss your chest.

I put my hand on your stomach. I move it downwards.

I kiss you and stroke your breasts.

I squeeze your breasts, -

take your nipples into my mouth and suck on them.

Unzip your pants.

I wrap my hand around your cock.

What are you doing, Redhead?

Write something you want to do with me in the summer.

We'll take one every day and do what's written on it.

Okay.

When can I read The Coward? - As soon as I finish the first draft.

We have to leave soon.

Wanna get tattoos? - Where?

On the shoulder, of course. - Of what?

How about a bunny and a sheep?

I read your interview in Suomen Kuvalehti magazine.

That journalist was an asshole. He made me sound like an idiot.

That's the last thing anyone would think of you.

You were probably much more intelligent than him.

But he did manage to articulate your quick-wittedness -

and relaxed subjectivity.

You must've heard they're making Juhana's first novel into a film?

Stop making a fuss.

My son has always been a very independent person.

A free spirit. Bullheaded in a good way.

Inka Pajunen.

Where in Helsinki are you from? - Kallio.

Oh. Nice.

What do your parents do? - My father died a couple of years ago.

My mother is a seamstress.

But you're aspiring to an academic career.

I'll graduate next year with a degree in literature.

It's great that old social classes -

and differences based on gender are rooted out.

I totally agree.

I'm sure the flounder is done by now. Riku, please take it out of the oven.

Flounder again. - Isn't it your favorite?

Thank you.

When my dad was still alive, -

my morn used to look at rental apartment listings behind his back.

We went to see one apartment. By taxi.

I still remember the address. It was Vuorikristallintie.

It was in a new suburb. The apartment was spacious -

and had windows on both sides of the building.

Morn smoked a cigarette on the balcony -

and promised we'd move there, just the two of us.

I waited the whole spring for that move.

Even though I knew she wouldn't have the guts to move.

I want to meet your morn.

My morn doesn't want to meet you.

She doesn't want to meet anyone.

Later, after Dad had died, -

I asked Morn why we never moved into that apartment.

She said that looking at that apartment was a lesson.

She wanted to teach me disappointment.

You're different, Redhead.

You're my only one.

We don't need anybody else.

"I want to live in a moment, -

but I can't because I'm afraid of the future."

"I'm too weak. I don't have the courage to do what I want."

"I'm afraid of the consequences."

"Besides, how would I know what I want?"

"I want to be an individual. I want to be a personality."

"I'd like not to care about conventional norms -

and other people's opinions, but I still seek their approval."

"I want to be admired for not wanting to be admired."

"That makes me a liar."

"I claim I'm altruistic, yet I'm anything but. I am a great paradox."

"And with time, it will pop. Drill a hole in its own skull and burst."

"The mysterious contents will drain, and everyone will see -

that it's just a simple lie."

Look. This is the skin pyramid test.

If you squeeze the skin on your knuckles a moment-

and the skin doesn't flatten, then degeneration has started.

You're clearly far along in the degeneration process.

But I love you anyway.

What about when I'm old? - I'll still love you when you're sixty-four.

Don't go yet.

I have to. I have an exam. - I can't write without you.

I need you. - And I need a bachelor's degree.

Some people have to work for their titles.

Not everyone was born a bourgeois prince like you.

Sorry, honey. I didn't mean to call you a bourgeois prince.

I meant an upper class kid.

Very funny, working class heroine.

My exam ends at four.

See you next week. Bye.

Hi. - Hi.

I have a surprise for you.

Come here. - What?

The top floor of that gray building.

I LOVE YOU

The green building with the tower.

I LOVE YOU AGAIN

Which one? - What do you mean?

Which one do you want to move into with me?

One has a balcony. The other one has a sauna.

Bunny, this is our story.

We'll get married and have children. We'll live by the sea in a house -

that has one balcony for the morning and one for the evening.

We'll write together and live damn happily ever after.

I want our story, but I can't take an apartment from your parents.

We have to make our own lives.

Do you always have to leave me?

Maybe I don't have to.

Your drawers are full of junk. Where can I put my work papers?

Junk? They're treasures.

We'll buy you a desk tomorrow. - Treasures?

My good luck charm. I thought I'd lost this.

All hope would have been lost then.

THE COWARD A novel by Juhana Mannermaa

My chest was full of hotcalm energee that pulled me -

pushed me towards a strangy destinationthunder still roaring...

No one would hear my cry in the dakerness or above it

Let's go to Bar Socis. - Wait, I'm in the middle of a thought.

I'm ready. - Let's keep writing.

I just finished a chapter. Let's go celebrate.

Just keep at it, and it'll flow. Or do you want to write together?

Why? - Because we write well together.

Why are you saying I write shit? - I'm not.

But I want to keep working. And you love writing with me.

I'm going out.

Did you hurt yourself?

I like to drink hot water with milk.

It's better for your gastric mucosa than tea.

My brother and husband are passionate hunters.

My sons were afraid of those when they were little.

My husband tried to take the boys rabbit hunting, -

but Juhana came home crying. He had immediately vomited.

I'm sure those memories have made it into his stories.

Your hair is like the fur of an animal. Juhana must like it.

Juhana is under a lot of pressure with his new novel.

Juhana is sensitive, a person of extremes.

Very lovable, but very restless.

He feels everything a lot deeper than most people.

What did your father die of?

Alcoholism.

You understand more about life than Juhana, -

who had a sheltered childhood.

It's my fault, of course. Juhana never had to make compromises.

He only has two reactions to the world: to rebel or conform.

We'll all benefit if he manages to write that book.

You should help him believe in himself.

He needs a strong spouse. Not just anybody can handle him.

I'm not just anybody. - I've noticed that.

I'm happy you came to talk with me.

How about a glass of cloudberry liqueur?

Why don't you just throw them away?

I couldn't offend them that badly. Or Morn.

She's always telling me to turn them right side up -

but she hasn't said anything about which way they should face.

Who needs moms anyway? We have each other.

Well?

I WANT TO THROW A PARTY

Of course we can offer aerobics classes.

Can I make my point? - What is it?

Of course we can offer aerobics classes.

We don't do aerobics or tanning beds or...

I want to write a story for a porn magazine

I want to write a world-class short story

Don't move. - I want to move.

I don't want you to move. - I'm moving.

You're not allowed to move.

Bunny, you almost squeezed me to death. - You ride like a madman.

Our children will be intelligent daredevils, Nobel-winning Ferraris.

Next summer I'll buy a motorboat.

Okay, let's go over what articles you're working on.

Hille.

I think we should write about narcissism and neoromanticism.

Not those clowns, dammit. - We should write about green issues.

This isn't the magazine for that. We write about the new wave.

I have a great headline: "Go to Hell, Old Farts." - Great...

Should we talk about what we really want to say? - No!

Not this debate about ideology again.

We've agreed on our goal a number of times.

My headline is "Whose Cock ls Hard?"

The article tells about the Marquis de Sade and punk.

Seriously though, I'm writing about the war on apathy. - Again!

And I'll write about the length of my ass hair.

We're stuck on provocation. We should do something surprising.

We have to take the fall issue to the next level. Right?

Gotska Sandön, 15 degrees. North wind 1 meter per second.

Sunny. Visibility over 20 kilometers.

Rauma Kuuskajaskari, 11 degrees. North wind 5 meters per second.

Partly cloudy. Visibility 10-20 kilometers...

What time is it?

Coffee is ready in the pot.

Morn, I've written a novel.

But you're still going to graduate, aren't you?

You've been working on this all summer?

Am I in it?

This is a masterpiece, Redhead.

This is the boldest novel a Finnish woman has ever written -

about internal freedom.

Everyone's saying it's the hottest debut novel of the fall. - Amazing.

I feel she's gained momentum.

Intellectual, erotic, merciless, poetic.

The story of a talented girl who finds her own voice -

and becomes a woman. This book is breaking taboos in Finland.

The gaps between generations are still so deep.

Congratulations. - Thanks. - Hi.

Hi. - Congratulations.

Thanks. - Debut Novelist.

This is Anna. - Hi.

I just heard a critic call you "the great promise of the fall."

Congratulations! - Wonderful.

I identified with your main character and the pain of not knowing -

what you want to do with your life. You described it so well.

Yeah.

Well, it was nice meeting you. Good luck with your second novel.

When's it coming out? - I'm almost done with it.

He's out of his mind...

Darling.

Why can't they leave me alone? - Who?

My ancestors. - Everything's okay, darling.

You just had a nightmare.

Then who turned the ancestors' portraits around?

It's an old house in the country. My morn knows the owners.

I'll have the upstairs to myself. - How long will you stay there?

Until I finish the novel. I'll be able to write there.

Too many distractions here.

I thought I needed someone big and hairy who'd make me feel safe.

Someone easy-going with gentle eyes.

But I ended up finding a young, wild, immature misfit -

who's creative and monumentally narcissistic.

I lay my heavy head in your lap. I won't hide anything scary from you.

"You knew that I needed to get rid of the little naughty girl, -

defiance, and the guilt that always followed."

"I had to free myself from Morn, the holy mother, -

and from Dad, the no-good dad."

"For the first time I feel -

that I don't become narrower with each word; I expand."

"I don't become flatter with each sentence; I widen."

"With you I realize that my loneliness -

is effervescent and creative. I don't have to be afraid of it."

"instead, I must draw from it."

Thank you.

Inka Pajunen. Hello?

This is Sheep. Can you hear me, Bunny?- Juhana.

This is Sheep. Can you hear me, Bunny?- I can.

How's it going there? - Inka, I'm scared.

What did you say?

I haven't eaten in three days. Come get me. I'm scared.

You sound delirious. -There are half- naked children here and hand guns.

The most horrible thing happened today when I went to buy cigarettes.

Someone had dropped a cassette on the ground, -

and the tape was unwound.

I managed to wind the tape back into the cassette.

When I listened to it...

It was horrible. It was...

It was my grandpa. My grandpa reading the Bible.

You win. You fucking win.

Punish me good.

All this shit is just a grand illusion, futile hubris.

Come to bed, darling.

Inka, I'm a liar.

If you drill a hole in my skull, the mysterious contents will drain -

and everyone will see that it's just a simple lie.

You should leave me, Inka.

You're everything I have.

Wanna go for a walk?

Or to the movies?

You want me to read what you wrote in the countryside?

Or do you want to write together? - Don't fucking pity me.

Please forgive me.

Don't worry about me. You can start writing.

NEW PRINTING OF INKA PAJUNEN'S NOVEL AND I FLY AVAILABLE NOW!

I'm teaching a class after the lecture.

You can write here the whole day. - Thanks so much.

Oh, well-deserved praise for your book in the paper. - Thank you.

Redhead, mon amour, follow the notes!

In French you're called La Rousse. Sounds like "Russian"!

Inka.

What are these? - Love poems, of course.

I wrote one every time I thought of you today.

Come. Come on up.

This is how much I thought of you today.

Where are you going? - I'm right here.

Bunny.

Redhead. My freckles star chart.

Come.

Don't go. - I have a meeting with the publisher.

Cancel it.

Let's do something together. I'd like to be with you.

Okay.

75, please.

You're Inka Pajunen, right?

Your novel is magnificent. - Thank you.

I sold three short stories to the porn magazine.

They pay really well, so I thought I'd make a career out of them.

C'mon.

Stop.

THE ODYSSEYS OF A YOUNG WOMAN

Can't you find it?

"In Albania."

Six letters.

I have to make a call.

Is the coffee ready yet?

What are you worried about?

You scared me. - Listen. I wrote something.

"Thunder was still roaring. Lightning cut across the sky."

"The carriage of sun rumbled through the rain."

"I felt weightless, that the bicycle was weightless -

and that we flew calmly, swaying."

"We danced slowly across the universe. The scenery expanded -

beyond ordinary dimensions." - Juhana.

"From our everyday life into space. From birth and life to death, -

as whole and harmonious, -

we undoubtedly flew just above the ground, ghostly but real."

Her breathing labored..."

You're disappearing from me.

I see you and I hear you, but I no longer recognize you.

Before I met you I never had trouble writing.

You killed my creativity.

You've taken my writing from me.

People say you've found your own voice, -

but the truth is that you stole my voice.

You would be nothing without me. You became a writer in my arms.

Now I'm suffocating in those arms.

One day I'll write such nasty things about you.

I will never write about you.

I remember people but not events.

I can't remember what we did, but I remember the feeling you awoke in me.

What's it like?

"Youth is wasted on the young."

You've been here before.

I've been here many times. - Why?

I wanted you to remember me. Us.

I remember you.

You drove me crazy.

First because of love, then hate. Finally because of both.

And when I was at my craziest, you left me.

You drove me away.

I tried to hold onto you, but you disappeared from me.

I didn't disappear. I was exposed. We were both exposed.

You as strong. Me as weak.

And you couldn't love a weak man.

Is this how you take revenge on me?

That's how you want to remember us?

No. I don't want to remember you at all.

Juhana must be tired after electroshock therapy.

You don't remember me. I know that.

I came here earlier today.

Come in.

I won't be coming back. I don't want to disturb you.

I just wanted to see you one more time.

Fifteen years ago we were lovers.

Our relationship was the kind you can only have once.

That's why you'll always be dear to me.

I was asked to write about depression.

I made a note.

"I read a quote that said:

'Life isn't the days gone by; it's the days that you remember."'

"But what if I don't remember? Will things disappear into nothingness?"

"Will people disappear? My life?"

"Will I no longer exist? Did I ever exist?"

Remember me, Redhead.

I will.

For once I'm writing about a topic I know well.

I think...

...that writing about a certain time means that time is over.

Writing about it is, in a way, erasing it.

Or substituting it.

That's why I feel -

that writing is essentially -

dangerous.

TO DADDY!

LOVE AND FURY

DIRECTED BY ALLI HAAPASALO

PRODUCED BY RIMBO SALOMAA

EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS JUKKA HELLE MARKUS SELIN

SCREENPLAY BY ALLI HAAPASALO

BASED ON ANJA KAURANEN- SNELLMAN'S NOVEL SYYSPRINSSI

DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY RAUNO RONKAINEN F.S.C.

PRODUCTION DESIGN KAISA MAKINEN

COSTUME DESIGN KAROLIINA KOISO-KANTTILA

MAKEUP AND HAIR DESIGN MARJUT SAMULIN

EDITING TUULI KUITTINEN

SOUND DESIGN ANNE TOLKKINEN

MUSIC GLENN PATSCHA

Translated by Aretta Véhélé Proofread by Rich Lyons