All language subtitles for The.Devils.Eye.1960.SWEDISH.1080p.BluRay.

DIGITALLY RESTORED IN 2016

"A woman's chastity is a sty
in the Devil's eye"

IRISH PROVERB

THE DEVIL'S EYE

A Rondo Capriccioso by

Ladies and gentlemen,

I apologize,
but we must briefly discuss hell.

Hell is shaped like a funnel.

At the bottom are the first sinners
whose torments are perhaps finished.

Then the other levels of hell,
layered one on top of the other.

And at the top, closest to earth,
lies our own inferno,

constructed by Christendom's
brightest and most pompous minds.

This inverted parish is run by Satan,

who has taken shape
in all stages of human development,

constantly recreated,
constantly renewed, rejuvenated,

and more and more human —

I almost said spiritualized.

Here begins our comedy.

Satan has a pain in his eye.

Maybe it's a sty.

There are only two possibilities.

Either he was sitting in a draft,
which is virtually impossible in hell,

or something alarming
has happened on earth.

For that reason,
he sends for his main advisers,

Count Armand de Rochefoucauld,

and Marquis Giuseppe Maria
de Macopanza.

It should also be mentioned

that in his time, the Count
was a prominent politician and poisoner

with deep insight into Gregorian chant.

The Marquis was of such noble blood

that his perversions sent sensual shivers
all the way up to the archangel's quills

and all the way down
into hell's finest districts.

If the matter weren't so serious,
I'd be inclined to find it stimulating.

We must get to the root of the evil,
the sty in our master's eye.

Certainly, my dear Marquis.

And it is?

A young woman's innocence, Master.

A tremendous challenge for hell.

Twenty years old.
Beautiful as a spring day.

Healthy, intelligent,
good physique and beautiful teeth.

Engaged.

And still a virgin.

Still.

The situation is more than precarious.

If this woman enters
her marriage undefiled

it will have unforeseeable consequences.

Heaven will rejoice.
Archangels will play trumpets.

It'll be a godly racket.

Spare me.

I must also emphasize the dangerous
power of setting an example.

The young woman has girlfriends.

What happens if one-by-one,
they follow her example?

What happens?

Integrity, order, monogamy.

Perhaps happy marriages.

Let's not exaggerate, dear Count.

Marriage is hell's mainstay.

Our pièce de résistance.

You're right.
What would hell be without marriage?

I'm in pain, gentlemen.

Something must be done.

You're absolutely right, Master.
Something must be done.

Undoubtedly, something must be done.

Satan has his fine moments, gentlemen.

Admit it.

The greater the innocence,
the closer at hand lurks evil.

Here in hell we have plenty of weapons

to aim and fire
at this young woman's breast.

To name a few, Francesco da Pisa,
who raped and killed 1,800 nuns.

And Count Berthold zum Felsenstein
and Schwarzen Ferkel,

whose potency increased the population
of Silesia by several thousand.

And yet

all of this is nothing...

compared to the artist,

the fanatic...

the dreamer...

the great...

Don Juan.

Good morning, Master.

How are you doing?

Since you've given me my sleep back
I've felt great, thank you.

- And the dreams?
- I endure them.

- Otherwise, you're satisfied?
- I'm completely satisfied.

My only concern
is that I've become so fragile.

It feels as if my insides
have burned away,

and my skin is a thin shell
around utter emptiness.

- There's a long way to go, Don Juan.
- Yes, Master. I know.

And your punishment?

I don't want to complain, Master.

But I find my punishment boring.

Almost unworthy of me.

It's painful, like a toothache,
but hardly unbearable.

If you'll excuse me.

Naturally.

Pablo!

Yes!

Coming.

- Do you have a cold, Pablo?
- It's the smoke, Master.

I've slept and need to powder.
Get my violet robe.

Yes, Master.

- Today's first punishment is waiting.
- Did you recognize her?

She wore a veil, but I suspect you'll
recognize her if you loosen her skirt.

Pablo, you've said the same stupid thing
every day for 300 years.

I beg you, say something different.

You know it's forbidden, Master.
Everything must be as it's always been.

You're right, I forgive you.

Let in the beauty, I'm ready.

- Could you tell if she was crying?
- By the devil, she was.

Women live in a storm of moisture.

If it's not wet in one place,
it's pouring in another.

They must have gills.
A man would drown in so much salt water.

By the way, it's amazing
it even happens in this dry air,

but hell has it's caprices,

and a woman's tears are more painful
than molten lead in your belly button.

There we go. Now you're beautiful, Master.

You're made up like an old prostitute

and ready to enjoy your punishment
with beauty intact.

You —

Don Juan, I'm sure you didn't
expect me at such an early hour.

Whenever it pleases.

I'm amazed you're not in the arms
of some all-too-willing hussy.

Madam, I assure you.

Presumably your servant,
that swine in human form,

has already sent your nighttime
companion into a side chamber.

My dear, how could you think that?

Don Juan, I've come to kill you.

You're brave, Don Juan.
And you play your game.

I'll only say that you provide me
with enjoyment, Madam.

My chest shall open up
for your little dagger

with the same soft readiness

that your womb opened up
for my love's sharp blade.

I beg you.
Grant us this ultimate indulgence.

The only pleasure
our bodies have not yet tasted.

I give you my death, Madam,
as I gave you my life.

And I command you
to consummate this sacrificial act,

which shall forever purify our love
in a river of blood and tears.

My vision fades, Don Juan.

Tiny flames of silver emanate
from your mouth and burn me.

Give me your hand.

My precious. My beloved.

Rest a moment on the bed.

No, Don Juan.

Drink this wine and regain your hatred.

You're breathing so heavily,
your breast must be freed.

I want to help you.
Let me kiss your forehead.

No, Don Juan.

Don't put away your dagger, my love.

Don't forget your humiliation
and your hatred.

I'm burning, Don Juan.

It's your hatred that's burning.

I want to cool you off,
free you from your clothes.

I love you, Don Juan.

The show is over, Don Juan.

The show is over, Don Juan.

In a short while,
the next woman will arrive.

And the same scene will repeat again.

The same scene and the same ending.

The old demon appears and says,
"The show is over, Don Juan."

I have a proposition for you, Don Juan.

You may accept or decline.

It's hell that truly practices free will.

I'm listening.

Look at this photo, Don Juan.

I'm offering you a trip to earth,

to rob this young woman of her virginity,

of her purity and of her faith in love.

What say the higher powers?

When it comes
to a young woman's innocence,

the angels' naïveté is limitless.

You ought to know.

Earth, Don Juan.

One evening, one night, one morning.

All the power of hell at your back.

What is a young woman's virtue
before our combined onslaught?

I'll deduct 300 years from your sentence,
Don Juan,

and place you in a merciful slumber
without heaven's knowledge.

A sleep without dreams, Don Juan.

Can Pablo come along?

Pablo can go with you.

Pablo, would you like to go to earth
for a short visit?

I'll be damned. Are you kidding?

The earthly paradise. That's my paradise.

I'll enjoy it like a fool
enjoys his own innards.

- You understand we'll be alive?
- Exactly, Master.

I'm going to taste life,
smack it between my lips.

I'll devour as much as I can.

Then it's settled.

My eye feels better already.

In all humility, the Marquis and I
have researched various methods

of seducing young women
in this Nordic land.

We found that a sudden attack

is more recommendable
than a prolonged siege.

The seducer should use affection
paired with relentless determination

leaving no room for doubt in the subject.

We can manage that.

A hint of unexaggerated southern vivacity,

a purity and moderation
in manner and behavior

inspires trust in the subject.

We've got that.

A romantic, elegiac tone,
a touch of endured pain,

awakens and stimulates the imagination
and sympathy in the subject.

We're close to brilliant there.

Any comment suggesting
emotional coldness or perversion

is strictly prohibited.

Who do they think we are?

However,
cynicism based on a wounded idealism

is to be considered, even recommended.

Finally, the young Nordic woman

is extremely sensitive
to a loving and refined tone,

preferably with a foreign accent.

A manly physique and beauty
is obviously a plus,

but strangely enough, not necessary.

The Nordic woman
is unaccustomed to compliments

and you should therefore cautiously
praise her physical assets or attire.

If the seducer is overly enthusiastic,
the subject will think he's lying

and the game is up.

To summarize:

The Nordic woman is passionate,
surprising, and independent.

She's loyal and romantic,
but ruthless in her passion.

She often gets cold feet.

To confuse her unabashed
immodesty with frivolity

would be a disastrous underestimation.

She is inexperienced, but curious.

In summer, she's accessible.
In winter, she wears a lot of clothes.

The Nordic woman is
rarely aware of her femininity.

Therefore, she's easy prey.

Her morals are inscrutable,
therefore she's difficult to keep.

There are those who believe
that God is dead,

that he perhaps never existed,

that Heaven is empty
and eternity is out of reach.

They also believe that evil
just functions coldly

like the other laws of nature

and that goodness is one of mankind's
most inexplicable perversions.

Such opinions undoubtedly make
an excellent foundation for a tragedy,

but this evening
we're performing a comedy,

and therefore the world
must be seen differently.

Accordingly, hell is in the underworld.

God and his angels reside
in the seven heavens.

In between these two realms
lies mankind's earth

in all its splendor and wealth.

Into the sunlit autumn world of our comedy

arrives Don Juan with his servant, Pablo.

They emerge from a dried-up well,

which bottomlessly extends towards
hell's mazes and secret elevators.

Dazed and blinded by the sun,
they behold the earthly paradise.

Look, Master. Trees. Flowers. And clouds.

More trees.

Grass. Water. Birds.

Look over there.
More trees, grass and flowers.

- What are you doing here?
- That's a good question.

I'm supposed to ensure your safety,
my little ones.

So you have Satan's trust?

Completely.

I'm one of the oldest and cruelest devils
in hell's upper and lower levels.

"You're so evil I don't know
what to do with you," he usually says.

But he says it lovingly.

What was it I was supposed to say —

Yes, yes.

I'm supposed to make sure
you gentlemen carry out your mission.

I'll be damned.

Satan confided in me —

I mean, Satan specifically asked me

to take care of little Pablo.

"No fun with the ladies," he said.
"I won't tolerate it."

My sense of humor is also limited.

I'll find some clever way to fool you.

Yeah, you can try.

Quiet.

Now we encounter one of those situations

humans so casually call
"a stroke of good fortune."

Here comes the vicar in his car.

I'll disappear.
I have to see to the engine trouble.

It's like I always say,
"The Lord looks after his own."

The first time I ever have engine trouble

and suddenly two helpful angels appear
as if sent from above.

That's how it always is.

My life is just a series
of fortunate accidents.

It's like the Devil and his minions
tuck in their tails and run

as soon as I appear.

The vicar is unmarried, I take it?

Quite the opposite.

My wife is intelligent and beautiful.

Personally, I'm not the brightest,
to tell you the truth,

but I have a good heart and I'm gullible,

so it evens out.

Does the vicar have any dau —
any children?

Just one daughter.

But she's the apple of my eye,
a rose of Sharon, if you catch my drift.

She's about to be married.

Yes, yes, yes.

He's a good lad.
Educated as an agronomist.

We couldn't ask for a better son-in-law.

He's going to lease the land
belonging to the church

so the young couple will be living nearby.

That's a blessing.

You gentlemen must come
to the vicarage for dinner.

We'll enjoy a pleasant evening together.

We couldn't possibly refuse
such a gracious invitation.

A heartfelt welcome, gentlemen.
A heartfelt welcome to the vicarage.

Natan, dear.

Natan, dear. I have guests.

Renata isn't feeling well.

Her health has been poor
these last few years.

But she'd like you to come in
and say hello.

Come in.

These are my friends and benefactors,
dear Renata.

They're staying for dinner.

It should be a pleasant evening.

- Good day.
- Good day.

I understand it's not a good time.

On the contrary,
I was just dying of boredom.

You've saved me. At least for tonight.

There you go.

My poor husband is overjoyed.

He worries that our lives here
are boring and dull.

My wife writes poetry.

Just to pass the time.

I hope we get a chance to hear some.

No, you definitely won't.

You have to take care of your guests.

Now let me introduce you to our daughter.

I guarantee you'll fall in love with her
right away.

I'm sure of it.

Good-bye, dear Natan. We'll soon return.

One of my predecessors —
He's there on the wall, actually.

He was a very original man
with deep insight on most issues.

One night,
he was visited by a devil from hell,

who offered his services in exchange
for the usual indemnification.

- Do you know what the vicar did?
- I have no idea.

He tricked the little devil
into this cabinet and locked it.

You can see for yourself.

The door is even burned on the inside.

And what do you keep in there?

My dear wife doesn't know I drink,
so I have to do it in secret.

You're probably wondering
why I'm telling you this.

I'd like to have my own devil
in the cabinet.

He would certainly have to divulge
what he knew.

Cheers.

Forgive us, dear Renata.

But it's both tasty and cleansing.

Now let's go find Britt-Marie.

Come in.

If you don't get out of my bed
immediately, I'll call my husband.

I beg you.

Think of my reputation.

The scandal.

And what the servants would say.

This is my bed, and I won't leave it
just because a clod of a man hops into it.

Why are you blowing on my neck?

You have the loveliest peach fuzz
on your neck

and I'm trying to blow your hair aside
to see it better.

I'm aroused by its splendor.

Are you aware that you have
an unusually ugly and strange nose?

Whatever it reminds me of.

And you have a very particular mouth,
whatever it reminds me of.

Your scent is driving me mad.

Did you know that?

Let's postpone what we intend to do
for a while, Renata.

Offer some resistance, if it pleases you.

It'll increase our pleasure.
No, don't say a word.

I know everything.

I can read it in your eyes.

Your wisdom, your strong character,

your femininity, your tenderness,
your frail health.

Everything.

Everything forbids you to let yourself go
in an inevitable embrace.

Really?

Everything forbids you, I say.

But there is a dark spot in your spirit,
Renata.

Really?

A dark spot of uncontrollable sensuality,
pent up for too long.

It's only in your dreams
that you give it free rein,

and give in to pleasure.

- You're certain of that?
- Hold out a little longer, Renata.

Just a short while.

- Where was I?
- In my dreams.

That's right. In your dreams
you enjoy limitless pleasure,

until it reaches the point
of pain and shame.

Where do you get all this from?

A thing or two has stuck
throughout the years,

and I have great role models.

But inspiration is always
the most important,

and now my soul is so inspired
I can barely stand up straight.

You're tired.

Yes, I'm tired.

The blood in my legs is boiling
and my stomach is full of butterflies.

No.

Come in, come in.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Good day.

Jonas and I made a bet
that all the doors and windows

would be painted when he returns tomorrow.

He doesn't think I'll make it.

They wallpapered and painted
everything on their own.

- Welcome to my home, I should say.
- A great honor.

Look at that. A real hostess in her house.

And you're the first guest. A good omen.

Can you believe it, Britt-Marie?
The car broke down and suddenly, as if —

Dad, I forgot.
You're supposed to call the Berglunds.

They've been waiting for you since 3:00.

Oh, dear God, you've made me forgetful.

I better hurry.

Farewell, my friends. Take care.

Having a dining room is damn conservative,
don't you agree?

Jonas thinks we should make
that room a dining room.

I want to make it a nursery.
Come take a look.

This room faces southwest.

You can't imagine a better nursery.
Sun all day.

- But Jonas wants a dining room.
- And who's winning?

Until kids come, he gets what he wants.
Then it's me who decides.

Dare I ask how many?

Jonas wants at least four.

But if it's up to me,
we'll have at least a dozen.

Do you have any children?

Why are you smiling?

I was wondering why
you're observing me with such acuity.

I was comparing you to Jonas.

And that comparison fell in his favor?

Of course. Want to see the kitchen?

I'll gladly see the kitchen,
if it pleases you.

It's mostly done.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Look how these old copper bowls shine.

And that old clock with the roses
was from my grandma.

The floor has these practical tiles,
but I've forgotten what they're called.

Look at all the cupboard space.

Jonas did all the carpentry on his own.
Not bad, eh?

What a guy.

Yes, he's really extraordinary.

He's so calm, firm and manly,
even though he's only 25.

Almost like a father.

- It must be wonderful.
- Yes, it is wonderful.

He's really gifted in mathematics as well.

He can figure out anything
on his slide rule.

And if he forgets it at home?

Jonas never forgets anything.

- And you love him?
- Yes.

We've loved each other
since I was 13 and he was 18.

- We got engaged back then.
- And now you're getting married?

Yes, we are.

It's so reassuring to have
a strong person by your side.

You get to be as weak as you want.

Don't you ever argue?

Oh, yes. Sometimes I get angry, of course,

but then he explains my reactions
and I calm down.

Jonas really understands human nature.

He has no faults?

Oh, yes. He slurps while eating,
and he doesn't like to wash his feet.

But he's extremely clean.
And they're not really character flaws.

Congratulations on such a man.

Thank you. I'm very proud of him.

- You'll be a happy wife.
- Yes, that's for sure.

And now I get to see the bedroom.

No, you don't get to see that.

Close your eyes.

Do as I say. Shut your eyes.

Now, describe me.

Blue eyes, light hair, a graceful nose,
a mouth for kisses,

caressing hands, firm breasts, round hips,
and a womb made for love —

No, stop.

Are you hurt?

We've just met each other,
and you're talking about my womb.

It's not really appropriate.

Jonas never talks about it?

That's one question too many.

Forgive me.

I forgive you.

You've never kissed anyone
other than Jonas?

Of course I have, who do you think I am?

May I kiss you?

Gladly.

You're a real Don Juan, you.

Isn't that the truth?

That was really innocent.

Now I'm going to kiss you.

You're the 37th.

- The 37th?
- That I've kissed.

I'm planning on reaching 50
before I'm married.

Are you experienced with women?

By all means.

Of course you're experienced.

And I get you to turn pale and tremble.
Me, who doesn't know a thing.

There's only one thing I know for sure.

And that is?

That I love Jonas,

and that nothing
can diminish my love for him.

- But you kiss other men?
- I just said that to fool with you.

- You kissed me.
- Yes, don't you understand?

When I saw your lips,
I wanted to kiss them to see how it felt.

And it felt?

I've felt it all along.

Your voice, your way of looking at me,
I've felt it all.

And then the kiss.

- But that doesn't change anything.
- It doesn't change anything?

You see, I love Jonas.

I love his kisses, the way he moves,

the way he touches me, his tone of voice.

That's the difference.

You play a dangerous game,
don't you think?

Yes, dear God, life would be boring
if you didn't lie from time to time.

The strange thing is
that people believe what you say.

Like me, for example.

Yes, like you.

I don't know, perhaps it's sinful to play.

Jonas always says I mustn't do it.
That it's cruel.

But it's so tempting. Especially with men.

They almost beg for it.
"Play with me, lie to me,

say what's untrue
and I promise to believe it all."

- You, yourself are impervious?
- Impervious?

I never lie to Jonas,
if that's what you mean.

Jonas would see through you, of course.

I've noticed you're very
sarcastic about Jonas.

You really enjoy it.

I understand that you and Jonas
live by principles.

And that principles
are holier than life itself.

That was both crude and foolish.

Quite the opposite. I sympathize with you.

- I don't think so.
- Sure, I do.

Lack of principles has been my principle.

Betrayal my morality, vice my virtue,
debauchery my abstinence,

and godlessness my religion.

So when all's said and done,
we're pretty similar, you and I.

Did I scare you?

Yes, I was scared, but not of you.

For yourself.

There's only one thing I know for sure.

That you're no ordinary man.

That you can wound me deeply.

That's my greatest wish.

It's surprising.

Surprising?

That deep down in my heart
I long for that wound.

- But it mustn't happen.
- Of course not.

You have to think of your man.

I have to guard my love.

Your so-called love is only words,
a young woman's boundless self-love.

Your conceit, your reticence,
all your meddlesome, so-called sense,

appears in the guise
of a make-believe love.

Only those who love
can know anything about it.

You speak as a believer of God.

Only those who believe in God,
believe in God.

But you neither believe nor know.

Don't be so sure.

It's true that I am incapable of love,

but I have seen love up close.

And that's a rare gift?

It's a rare gift.

Those who know great love are few...

and their suffering is boundless.

I have been told
that they are close to God,

and that they are mirrors
reflecting his light,

making life bearable for the rest of us
wretches who fumble in the darkness.

Perhaps that's the case.

I don't know anything about it.

I've chosen a different path,
a path called contempt and indifference.

I don't understand.

No, you don't understand.

- Don't you ever feel longing?
- No, I don't ever feel longing.

Don't you have dreams?

No, I have no dreams.

Then you're dead.

Yes, that's true.

What do you want of me?

Do you want to harm?

Poison?

You want to kill?

Jonas!

How funny. He wasn't supposed
to be back until tomorrow.

Jonas!

So ends the first act.

We have met our characters

and allowed them to take their first steps
in this inconsequential contra dance.

Ladies and gentlemen —

I'm sorry. I forgot something.

As many of you might have expected,

it's the powers of the underworld
that rule the weather.

Satan has now unleashed a heavy rainstorm.

The vicar, concerned for his guests,

has accordingly asked them
to stay the night.

Something they,
for easily understood reasons, accepted.

Was there something else?

Yes,
the black cat has been invited to partake

and is feasting on herring
and milk in the kitchen.

The vicar now has three snakes
at his bosom.

Autumn has come early this year.

In the southern country
where I spent most of my life

autumn storms were always
announced by a yellow-violet cloud

that sat on the horizon for seven nights.

People said it was a wineskin

filled to the brim with God's tears
over mankind's sins.

And when the cloud would finally burst
on the seventh evening

the rain was always salty and bitter,

and they would ring all the church bells.

How very interesting.

Maybe we should open the window
and stick out our tongues

to see if God's crying on us tonight.

- Don't be silly, Jonas.
- Oops.

Can I have some more cream?

By the way, we're getting our pigs.

It's important that they marry
as soon as possible.

Yes, dear Jonas, we can —

I have instructions
on how it should be done.

- Interesting, I must say.
- Not now, dear.

In the spring, we'll have
an astronomical birthrate on the farm.

- I worked it out on my slide rule.
- Please, put that away.

- Why?
- Because it's not funny.

Not funny?

You're the one who's funny.

- That's funny.
- First you call me —

- Did I call you?
- Didn't you?

You called and told me to come home
to discuss an important matter.

Your voice sounded so strange,

but then the phone went dead
before we were finished.

- Somebody pulled a prank on you.
- A damn stupid prank, in that case.

- Really?
- Yes.

There, there.
Now the kids are done bickering

and everything is just dandy.

Jonas is so awkward at times.

Shall we adjourn from the table?

Lord, thank you for this meal. Amen.

You're being ridiculous.

Jonas.

- I'm not the one being ridiculous.
- I'll forgive you, if you forgive me.

Really, you'll forgive me?
How kind of you.

- Now I'm really mad.
- By all means.

You're ill-mannered and awkward.

Rude, unpleasant and arrogant.

Rude and ill-mannered
without the slightest manners.

- You're really ill-mannered.
- You are —

Just say it.

- I can't think of anything.
- Spoiled and selfish.

Don't hold back.

You're spoiled and selfish.

We've never argued like this before.

I'm leaving anyway.

- Do you have to?
- Yes, I don't want to stay any longer.

We'll just find more ways
to be unpleasant to one another.

- And also —
- Say what you're thinking.

I've been wondering all night
why you didn't want to kiss me.

There's no particular reason.

It hurt me somehow.

Feel better now?

No, not at all.

Then leave, damn it!

It was an autumn evening like this one.

There was a full moon
and the air was beginning to cool.

Don Juan had climbed over a tall wall
to elude his pursuers,

and he discovered
that he was in a cemetery.

Suddenly in front of him
stood the governor's statue.

He was a noble old man
that he had recently killed in a duel.

Our guest has just told us
he's working on a biography of Don Juan.

Well...

when Don Juan saw the stone colossus,
shining white in the moonlight...

he was seized by
an uncontrollable cheerfulness.

He invited him for supper
that same evening.

To Don Juan's surprise,
the statue nodded his head

as if accepting the invitation.

That evening, Don Juan was dining alone.

Pablo served as usual.

Suddenly,
there was a pounding on the door.

It echoed throughout the house.

He ordered his servant to open.

He thought the statue spoke to him.

"Do you regret your life?"

He hurled his "No" towards
the stone statue like a weapon.

From the horrifying hand,
that would not release its grip,

flowed ice and fire.

And Don Juan felt his flesh melt away.

He raised his arms and clung
to the merciless foot against his chest

as he was pressed through the floor
down to the bottom of hell.

How very, very interesting.

Why did you tell that story?

You asked me this morning about experience

and I told you about Don Juan's
only experience.

Experience? What's that?

I don't know anyway.

Well, for me, every day
is overflowing with experiences.

Big and small, important and trivial.
All in one big bundle.

I can't get a break
from all the things I experience.

Renata dear, don't be sad.

Leave me be.

Renata, calm down.

You don't understand.
God, how silly. It's laughable.

- Can't I help you?
- Mother, dear —

No, nobody can help me.

It's just a stupid farce anyway.

Renata, dear. Natan, dear.

Dear Lord, thank you for this day. Amen.

One more thing, by the way.

Help me figure out my wife.

It's difficult to see her suffer
and not know how to help.

One more thing, by the way.

Dear Lord, give me the vision.

Teach me to understand
the dark hearts of men

and their hidden sufferings

Take away my childish simplicity

and give me a new perspective

that is crisp and clear, and yet loving.

Thank you and amen.

Renata.

I'm sorry if I frightened you.
Were you sleeping?

No, I don't think so.

- Are you ill?
- No, I'm not ill.

What is it?

I don't know.

- I just came in —
- For what?

Nothing.

To look at you.

Come sit down.

- Thank you.
- Well?

Would you be sad if I died?

Dear, Natan. Why do you say that?

Answer my question.

I would become stricken in mourning.
Don't you under —

Why?

That's a strange question.
Because I love you, of course.

But I'm a nuisance to you and Britt-Marie.

- How can you love me?
- That's not true, Renata.

There are difficulties in all of us.
In ourselves as well as others.

No, you don't understand what I mean.

I don't?

No.

I really want to, Renata.

I so fervently want to understand you.

It's like the theater.

You see me in one role and think that's me

and others see me in other roles
and think that's me.

Nobody sees me.

You have to be honest, Renata.

That's right, Vicar.

Honesty is the best policy.

- Did I say something wrong?
- No.

You're absolutely right.

Good night, dear.

Sleep well on that big ear of yours,
and awake tomorrow to your beautiful world

and all the nice people
and all your experiences.

Good night then.

What would you do if I cheated on you?

What?

Cheated.

What?

Went to bed with another man.

You sure have some ideas.

What would you do?

What would I do?

What would I do?

I would —

I don't know.

Would you throw me out?

What terrible questions, Renata.
I don't understand.

Would you still love me?

I have to love you no matter what happens.

Love doesn't cease. It remains steadfast
no matter how life plays out.

At least that's how it is for me.

Do you know I feel like screaming?

No, I don't.

Good night, my husband.

I apologize for frightening you.

I won't do it again.

Renata?

Yes?

I wish something would touch your heart
so you could feel compassion.

You think that would be good?

I don't know.

I'll think about it. Good night.

Good night, Renata.

And God bless you.

How did you get in?

Through the door, before you locked it.

Then I hid here.

Now I've popped up.

Here I am.

- Go away.
- Not at all.

Our moment is here.
We've waited long enough.

You sure can talk,
but when it comes to love,

you're probably as much a fraud
as any other man.

I'm a man of passion, Renata.

I beg you, be quiet. Shut up. Go away.

I'm volatile, infantile, foolish,
dishonest and ridiculous — An old bat.

But don't wake me.

Stop tormenting me
with your stupid little tricks.

Let me be. Let me sleep.
Go away, I beg you. I'm tired.

Go away.

So you don't want to go to bed with me?

No, I don't.

For 300 years, I've sat in hell,
longing for women.

For 300 years,
I have, with all senses intact,

had to endure the damnation of abstinence.

It's because I died in the arms
of my servant girl.

For 300 years, I've been storing up.

It's not every day
you meet a man that loaded.

Even if he is a bit
tarnished on the exterior.

So you're from hell?

And you want me to believe that?

Believe it or not.

Heaven, hell. It's all lies.

It doesn't matter.

You're not risking anything.

But it just might happen

that you'll experience something
you'll never forget.

Experience?

A dream, Renata. It'll be like a dream.

Yes, it's a dream.

The only problem is
you can't convince me it's mine.

- Pretend, Renata.
- No, I'm too old.

- Can't you fake it?
- No, I've done that all along.

Can you see me in hell, Renata?

Thin, cranky, naked and gray,
breathing dust all day.

Day after day,
I sadly trudge through my chores.

Can you see me?

I'm no great villain.
Not one of hell's favorites.

I'm just a poor condemned man
without hope or pleasure.

When I get to heaven it'll be the same.
Nobody cares about Pablo.

But then I was granted earthly life
for just one day and one night.

And I meet you, Renata.

And you're the greatest,
loveliest, most wonderful, finest,

sweetest, nicest, fantastic masterpiece

that Pablo has ever experienced.

I know I'm boring you.

No, go on.

You're fairly amusing.

No, I have nothing more to say.

I'll return to the underworld
and my tiresome life.

Think of Pablo sometime.

Even I, in my vileness,
am the child of a woman.

And my mother cried every day for my sins.

And Mother —

She showed me true tenderness.

Come here.

You're not ashamed
to appeal to my maternal side?

No, I'm not ashamed.

You've managed to do something rare.

You've touched my heart.

That's a kind thing to say.

You've given me an experience.

Thank you.

You've earned a reward.

Thank you.

You may kiss me.

- Remember your orders?
- I've forgotten.

- You refuse to obey.
- Can't you tell?

It'll be bad for you,
and bad for her as well.

- Who are you?
- I'm a demon.

A little devil from hell,
if that's easier to comprehend.

How very interesting.

I'm dreaming, of course.

No, I'm wide awake.

What do you want?

Only trouble, Vicar. Only trouble.

I'm not one of those happy devils
who buys souls

and doles out happiness and gold.

I'm a "trouble" devil.

Nonetheless, I'm honored by the visit.

To think this could happen to me.
Praise the Lord.

Stop that!

Aren't consideration and manners in order,
even though I am from hell?

I apologize, my dear man.
It was thoughtless of me.

Well, well, let's have a heart-to-heart.

I don't have a heart.

But if you want to know,
your wife's about to go to bed

with one of your splendid guests.

What are you saying?

Are you hard of hearing?

Your wife Renata is lying with a man.

Understand now?

No.

You mean Renata is about to —

No, dear devil.

Come up with something more probable,
if you want to upset me.

I'm not asking you to believe me.

I'm just asking you to get out of bed,
go to her door.

You'll find it locked,
and open it with this key.

Well?

- And if I don't go?
- Oh, you'll go.

Nothing has greater attraction
than a potentially evil moment.

You're a real devil, you.

I take that as a compliment.

Well?

Aren't you going to unlock it?

You'll finally become aware,

see clearly, comprehend and understand.

You'll see loathsomeness
and animalistic desire.

Something will finally pierce
your soul and make you a man.

You who have playfully
strolled through life.

You close your eyes
and think the best of everyone.

Well?

Open the door

and behold deceit in full bloom.

You and your experiences.

Here's an experience
that'll lodge itself in your throat

and leave you gasping for air.

I think we need to have ourselves
a drink first.

- A drink?
- Yes.

Now, that's an idea.

Come, Vicar. We'll strengthen our hatred.

Yes.

Dear brother,
I'm so excited I can't find it.

You're smaller. Can you help me?

It's in there.

- No, I don't see it.
- Yes, it's there on the left.

Farther in. Even farther.

Here, use the stool.

There we go. I'm sure you see it now.

Here it is. I've got it.

There it is and you've got it.

Please, go ahead and keep it,
little brother.

You could use something to brace you up.

It'll be a while before you return home.

I've got a devil in my cupboard.

I've got a devil in my cupboard.

Hey, how are you in there?

All right. Your gin isn't bad.

- You're welcome.
- Thank you.

Are you going to check on the wife now?

No, old man. I'm not so inclined.

You're a damn wimp.

Tell me more, little brother.

I'll listen to everything you tell me.

I'll take advantage of your knowledge.

But not for evil, for good.

You devil.

Don't argue. Don't be sad. Don't fuss.

Hey, if you're good, I'll pray for you
and maybe you'll go to heaven one day.

How could you be so wicked?

You're a vicar.

You flatter me, my boy.

But rest now,
and we'll speak in the morning.

Good night.

"Journal of the devil in my cupboard."

So ends the second act,
followed shortly by the third.

My ladies and gentlemen,
a moment of your patience.

The author has included
a description of nature —

a sort of artistic weather report —

that he wants me to pass on.

Black night.

The night is thus black.

Full moon. Complete silence.

Fragrances. Various kinds.

Here's something about dew.

Full moon again, etc.

No, let's skip all this
and get straight to the point.

Do with me as you please.

I can't bear your suffering,
which I do not understand.

But it burns and torments me more
than anything I've ever experienced.

I beg you to free me from your suffering.

My suffering.

I don't love you.

I don't desire your body.

You're frightening and incomprehensible.

But I'm no longer scared of you.

You can't touch my love for Jonas.

The wound you give me,
will only hurt me and you.

- Did you sleep?
- Oh, yes. I slept and dreamt.

So devils have dreams?

Only nightmares, Vicar.

For others, that is.

Do you want to hear my dream?

It would be very interesting.

You have a daughter, don't you?

A rose of Sharon, the apple of your eye.

A little virgin in the earthly meat stew.

Hey, quiet.

Of course, as the vicar commands.

No, tell me. Tell me your dream.

While one of your guests
lay with your wife,

the other guest
seduced your fair daughter.

And you're actually to blame for it all,

because you're the one
who invited them to stay the night.

Well, what do you say to that?

It can't be.

Feel free to keep your "little brother."

Now you see what it's like
to have a devil in your cupboard.

You're too late.

You're always too late.

- Forgive me, Britt-Marie.
- What's wrong?

I don't know. I've probably gone mad.

I have a devil in the cupboard
and he dreamt that you —

That you —

- Are you sleepwalking, Daddy?
- No, not anymore.

I've been sleepwalking all along,
but not anymore.

That's what's so confusing.

You see things in another light, and you —

And you —

Dear child, is everything all right?

Of course.

Were you crying?

Good night, Daddy.

Good night, my little girl.

I'll go out and dig up
the half-finished garden,

and then sit down in the grass,

and let it rain on me.

It'll be wonderful to freeze.

And then for breakfast,

I'll have some of those large,
tart apples down by the gate.

After that, I'll return to hell, Renata.

But grateful. Do you understand?

Renata.

What happens now, Renata?

He touched my heart.

But that wasn't the most difficult.

Then what was?

That I thought of you the whole time.

Of me?

And I felt sympathy for you.

What happens now?

I don't know.

Nothing.

So you'll stay with me.

Where would I go?

Do you think we can make a fresh start?

No, I don't think so.

Do you think we can change?

We can try.

Go lie down, Renata. You'll catch cold.

I've been looking for you all morning.
Why are you hiding?

Jonas will be here shortly.

I need time alone to gather my thoughts,
so that I can meet him properly.

There's something I have to say first.

I love you.

Yes, I'll leave.

Have mercy on me.

I beg you.

Allow me for one moment to believe

that you have some feeling for me.

Lie to me.

I'll believe you.

I'll ardently believe you.

I beg you.

Can't you see I'm humiliating myself?

You say that you love me,

and I believe it to be true,
but it doesn't matter.

I don't understand.

Yesterday,
I was a young girl who liked to play.

I thought your fierceness
and cool demeanor was exciting.

I wanted you to hurt me.

I might have been scared, but not much.

I thought my love for Jonas
protected me from all danger.

Last night I realized I was wrong.

My love doesn't protect me from anything.

Your suffering burned me.

Suddenly, I wanted to hold you close
and give you everything I could.

But that was also a lie.

I know that. I'm certain of it now.

What I felt were just dangerous dreams
surrounding my own desire.

A desire I've never experienced before.

Last night made me an adult.

The show is over, Don Juan.

The higher powers have tricked us.

Our evil has fallen flat against the cold,
calculating goodness of heaven.

I'm tired and bored.

I intend to retire

and then heaven
will have to manage without hell.

Then He, up there,
will see how easy it gets.

A young woman's virginity
convinces us to send our best weapon,

and what happens?

The unemotional one returns
madly smitten with love.

Curtains, gentlemen. Curtains.

But that's not enough.

A vicar of priceless stupidity,
from hell's point-of-view,

is suddenly transformed and captures
my most powerful demon in his cupboard.

He's become aware.

In short, a power to be reckoned with.

But not only that,
an unusually competent woman,

well-qualified for hell,
comes to a self-realization

and is stricken with compassion
for her husband.

Now she might become a good wife.

But that's not enough.

A little blackguard named Pablo

dared to defy my will and his
already imposed punishments.

Who came up with
this unusually stupid idea

of sending Don Juan to earth?

It's true.

It's true.

It was my idea.

I'm sickened
by my handling of this matter.

It's sad, not to mention unartistic,
to have to admit love's victory

and evil's utter defeat.

I'm getting old.

Leave me.

Don Juan might grace me
with his company for a short while.

I can't say that I love you, Master.

And you've had enough of love.

But life would have been meaningless
without you.

And you should know
that I'll be faithful to you

until the very end of damnation.

That's all.

- Don Juan.
- Yes, Master.

One of the worst torments
was your jealousy.

Yes, Master.

At least I can give you
a little punishment.

What's your name again?

I've forgotten, your grace.

You're famous for your hearing.

That's correct.

Will you see what's currently happening
with the young, innocent woman?

It might interest our emotional friend.

Wait! I hear something
dreadfully uncomfortable, it's —

What's it called —

Church bells. Horrible sounding.

A voice is speaking,
it sounds like an actor.

"Do you take Britt-Marie
as your beloved —"

"Do you take Jonas as your —"

- The young woman said "Yes."
- Continue.

She said it so loudly, your grace.
Sudden sounds are painful.

- What else do you hear?
- A big party.

No, the young woman isn't there.

Where could she be?

No, she's not there. Now I hear her.

She's laughing.

A young man is breathing heavily on her.
Like this:

She's trying to say something,
but he smothers her words with kisses.

Well, what do you hear now?

Now it's quiet, your grace.

Now I hear a bed that's —

The rustle of clothing that —

It could be an auditory illusion,
your grace.

Now I hear her breathing heavily.
Sort of like this —

What do you hear?

She's gasping.

Now it's quiet.

Now it's quiet.

She just screamed,
but not as if from pain exactly.

I don't know how to describe this scream.

The gentleman might understand anyway.

Now she's crying.

But not from sorrow.
No, I'm convinced it's not.

- Maybe from happiness?
- What do I know, your grace?

My eye should be healthy,
but the sty still remains.

Very strange.

The young ones are talking to each other.

I can hear what they're saying.

She's saying,
"Don't kiss me so forcefully."

He responds, "Why not?"

"Well," she says,
"I have a small cut on my lip."

Then he says, "How did you get that?"

And then he laughs and says,
"Maybe somebody else kissed you?"

She responds, "What a stupid joke.

You know I've never kissed another man."

I can hear that she's lying.

By all devils,
and my grandmother's toxic tooth,

the sty is gone.

So hell still won a victory in the end.

May I go?

Of course you may, Don Juan.
Good evening, gentlemen.

Is it very painful?

If it gives you pleasure, I'm suffering.

But I won't fall down
and I have no regrets.

I find you and your punishments silly.

You, Mr. Satan, and Him up there.

I despise you both.

Never in eternity shall Don Juan bow down.

You'll have to punish him
with worse horrors

than those currently
tearing his insides apart.

I remain Don Juan...

he who despises both God and Satan.

I allow myself to spit at your feet.

Good evening, Master.

I wish you, and Him above,
all success in your paltry business.

Let Don Juan sleep.

With or without dreams?

With dreams, of course.

And what shall we let him dream?

Of the earthly paradise.

And above all, of love.

Isn't that a little too cruel, your grace?

No punishment is severe enough
for those who love.

Ladies and gentlemen, so ends our comedy.

Heaven has won a brilliant victory.

There's no doubt about it.

But even hell has scored a victory.

And as the author of our comedy puts it,

"The smallest victory for hell

can be considerably more devastating
than a great success for heaven."

But in order that our esteemed audience
may forget such unpleasant,

and perhaps doubtful truths,

we have arranged for a closing scene

depicting great and true love
in it's purest form.

You'll now see the young couple

enveloped by the wedding night's
magical intoxication.

It's really very interesting,
as the vicar would say.

I love you.

I love you.

I'll love you for all eternity. Amen.

May I kiss you now?

Yes, but careful.

THIS IS THE END