All language subtitles for Mother Night

MOTHER NIGHT

"Police"

"Haifa, Israel 1961"

Do you prefer German or English?

English.

You are to write down your memoirs
for the Haifa Institute...

for the documentation
of war criminals.

You have three weeks to complete
your memoirs before your trial begins.

Do you have any questions?

No. This is great.
Thanks for everything.

"Jews, Negroes...
Mongrel"

You are the only man I know who has
a bad conscience about the war.

Who is this?

Bernard Liebman.

I have guard duty
from 2:00 till 10:00.

Oh. I see.

Everyone else on either side...

is convinced he couldn't have acted
in any other way.

How do you know I have
a bad conscience?

The way you talk
in your sleep.

I can tell something
is troubling you.

What do you imagine
is troubling me, Bernard Liebman?

All I heard were
a couple of names.

"Helga" was one.

"Hoess" was the other one.

I knew Hoess.

He had no trouble sleeping.

Slept like a baby
right up to the end.

You know this?

I guess so.

I helped hang him.

- With your testimony?
- No.

With my hands.

Did that give you
lots of satisfaction?

My job was to strap his ankles.

I did a very good job.

I see.

Afterwards, I packed my bags
to go home.

The catch on my suitcase
was broken...

so I buckled it shut
with a big leather strap.

Twice, within one hour...

I did the very same job.

Once to Hoess...

once to my suitcase.

Both jobs felt about the same.

Yeah.

I, Howard W. Campbell, Jr.,
am an American by birth...

a Nazi by reputation...

and a nationless person
by inclination.

I am awaiting a fair trial for
my war crimes by the state of Israel.

I was born in Schenectady, New York,
on February 16, 1904.

My father was raised
in Tennessee...

the son of a Baptist minister.

He was a service engineer
for General Electric.

Because of his work...

most of his reading consisted
of tradejournals and technical books.

There were a few
notable exceptions.

Howard!

In 1919, when General Electric
relocated my father...

we left Schenectady
and moved to Berlin, Germany.

By 1938...

I had become a successful
playwright in the German language...

and I had married
the young, beautiful...

and famous German actress Helga Noth.

When my parents left Germany...

they asked me to return
to the United States with them.

I didn't.

"My dear, sweet Eva...

this is the only way...

I know how to make good...

the frightful wrong
which has befallen us.

It does not matter
what lies ahead...

for I have
a full life behind me...

all in those few,
sweet hours with you.

I once told you
that I would pledge my life...

for our nation of two...

and reside there...

even in death...

as surely as I reside in heaven...

when your arms are around me.

Soon it will be time
to keep that pledge...

and I rejoice to think...

that earthly distractions
will no longer intrude...

on my eternal devotion to you.

From this moment forward...

our nation of two...

is the only country...

I will know."

As the insanity of the world
descended on us...

my Helga and I survived
by pledging our undying loyalty...

to the only nation
that made any sense to us.

It was called
das Reich der Zwei...

"the nation of two."

It was only one month after my parents
returned to the United States...

three years before America
would enter the war...

when I first met
my blue fairy godmother.

I call him that because no one
believes he existed but me.

But he really does exist...
or at least he did...

on that Sunday afternoon
so long ago in Berlin.

Nice-lookin' men.

I suppose.

- Do you speak English?
- Yes.

Thank God.

I've been goin' crazy
tryin' to find someone to talk to.

Pardon me?

I'm sorry. You mind if I come over there
so we don't have to holler?

As you please.

"As you please." That sounds like
somethin' an Englishman would say.

- You English, are ya?
- No, I'm American.

That a fact?

Any of my beeswax
what you do for a living?

- Writer.
- No kiddin'!

Well, there's a coincidence,
'cause I was just sittin' over there...

wishin' I could write...

'cause I thought up
one hell of a story.

There's this American, see?

And he's been livin' in Germany so long
he's practically a German himself.

He writes plays in German, is married
to a beautiful German actress.

He knows a lot of big-shot Nazis
who like to hang around theater people.

Who are you?

Oh, wait a minute.
This gets better.

So this fella knows
there's a war comin'.

America's gonna be on one side,
Germany's gonna be on the other.

So this American, who's been nothin'
but polite to the Nazis so far...

decides to pretend
he's a Nazi himself...

and he stays on in Germany
once the war comes...

and gets to be
a very useful American spy.

I asked, "Who are you?"

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I got so carried away I just...

Here you go.
That's me.

"U.S. War Department
Wirtanen, Frank - Major"

So, Mr. Campbell,
what'd you think of my little story?

What did I think of it?
Oh, I don't think much of it.

I mean, it's highly implausible.
It's ridiculous.

Oh, that's okay, 'cause...

today isn't when you give me
your final answer, anyway.

Final answer?

If you imagine that I'm gonna go home
and think this over, you're mistaken.

I'm gonna sleep like a log.

I'm not a political man.
I'm just not.

I'm an artist.

If a war comes, it's just gonna
have to get along without me.

Well, I wish ya
all the luck in the world, Howard.

The worse this Nazi thing gets...

the less anyone's
gonna sleep like a log.

Well, I don't know.
Maybe. We'll see.

That's right. We'll see.

That's why I don't expect
your final answer today.

If you go through with this,
it'll be strictly on your own...

working your way up with the Nazis
as high as you can go.

To do this right, you'll have to commit
nothing less than high treason.

Even if you do live through the war
without being caught...

your government will never
acknowledge your role as an agent.

We couldn't afford
the security breach.

You come lookin' for a pardon...

they'll deny
they ever heard of ya.

You'd be left hung out to dry.

You make it sound so attractive.

Oh, I have a feeling I've made it
sound very attractive to you, Howard.

- I've seen your plays.
- Really?

And what did you learn from them?

You're obsessed with the notion
of pure hearts and heroism.

You love good,
and you hate evil...

and you'd sacrifice anything
in the name of romance.

I'll be in touch.

It was every playwright's
secret dream...

to create the most challenging role
I could imagine...

and then play the part myself.

Cue theme music.

"Three Years Later"

"Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen.

This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American...

speaking to you from Berlin, Germany,
the heart of the free world.

There is a fine article
in the current Reader's Digest...

entitled
'There Are No Atheists in Foxholes.'

Well, today I would like
to expand on this theme a little...

and tell you that even though
this is a war inspired by the Jews...

a war that only
the Jews can profit from...

you will find there are
no Jews in foxholes either.

Every G.I. Joe knows..."

Every Sunday afternoon
wherever my voice could be heard...

people stopped whatever they were
doing just to hear what I'd say next.

Even Berlin's chief of police
and his family were devoted listeners...

and not just because
they were my in-laws.

"Now, to the American folks
at home...

I want you to think of all the Jews
living in your neighborhood."

It took me only a couple of hours
to write each speech...

after which I'd hand it over to
the propaganda ministry for their notes.

Among those who examined it
was another Allied agent...

whose identity never was
revealed to me.

"Do they have more
or less gasoline?"

My speech would be returned
with all sorts of notations...

including those left
by my fellow spy.

"To these questions..."

These markings would dictate
certain vocal mannerisms...

pauses, emphases...

coughs, stumbles,
throat-clearings.

"Now let me ask you this:

Do you know of
a single Jewish family...

that has ever received
a telegram from Washington...

that begins...

'The secretary of war
expresses his deep regret...

that your son was killed
in defense of his country'?

Of course not.

No Jewish family would ever
receive such a telegram...

thanks to a personal guarantee
from the American dictator...

Franklin Delano Rosenfeld."

It was in this manner that I broadcast
coded information out of Germany.

I don't know to this day
what information went out through me.

"Why do you take arms
against your German brothers?

You know that Germany's objectives
are the same as your own.

You must understand
that theJews...

can only thrive in a nation
which lives in slavery.

So, my brothers...

lay down your arms.

By fighting this war, you'll only
fortify the bank accounts...

of your political leaders
who blindly serve theirJewish masters.

This has been
Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

Thank you for listening.
Heil Hitler."

You are a murderer.

You are a coward.

You are all cowards!

You are murdering children!

You should rot in hell!

Damn you!

Howard just
instinctively understands...

the German ideal
of right and wrong...

the certain triumph
of good over evil...

and the redemptive power of romance.

Just promise me one thing:

You will not leave
the propaganda ministry...

and return
to playwrighting full-time.

Little chance of that,
Herr Goebbels.

I've always found it ironic
that the man...

who so eloquently communicates
our ideals to the masses...

should be born in America.

Well, it's not so ironic.

I consider myself a spiritual native
of my adopted fatherland.

Something i've always wondered,
Herr Campbell:

Do you ever miss America?

Sometimes. Of course I do.

But I could never be happy
with the Jews in charge of everything.

Jews. The Jews will be
taken care of in due time.

Our friend Hoess here is seeing to it
at a resort he's running in Auschwitz.

My wife and I live
for that day.

Is there a chance we might
meet Mrs. Campbell?

Yes. Of course, Herr Hoess.

I'll ask Helga to join us,
if you'll excuse me.

If that woman walked off a cliff,
I swear, Howard would follow her.

Time passed.

I never told my Helga
I was a spy.

To tell her would only
put her in danger...

and make her live
in constant fear.

So I hid my true self
from her...

knowing that politics had no place
in our nation of two.

I suppose the moral here is:

You must be careful
what you pretend to be...

because in the end
you are what you pretend to be.

History says
the war ended in 1945.

In fact,
it ended one year earlier.

My nation of two was
the loser...

insanity the victor.

There were no prisoners...

no survivors.

Why would the Germans
want to kill my Helga?

Sir...

I said enemy guns.

The Russians.

It was Russian fire.

Russian.

It was tragic timing, sir.

The Russians fired
on the Crimean camp...

where she was
entertaining troops.

Reich Marshal Goering will issue
an official commendation...

for Mrs. Campbell's bravery.

I am sure
she would be very proud.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Is there anything I can do for you,
Herr Campbell?

Please.

"Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen.

This is
Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American...

speaking to you
from Berlin, Germany...

the heart of the free world.

As you know,
the Bolshevik hordes...

continue their barbaric
advance towards Berlin.

Let theJewish leaders who are
exalted by our temporary setbacks...

be warned that National Socialism
will never allow Germany...

to fall under the heels
of the black beast...

who terrorizes
our women and children.

As for my American brothers...

you are fools
if you believe your dictator...

Franklin Delano Rosenfeld,
is concerned with your welfare.

If you fail to heed
the warning of your Aryan brothers...

the fate that awaits you
is the fate you deserve.

German victory is certain,
for it is a moral victory.

The final blow will be
struck by Adolf Hitler.

This has been
Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

You may not hear from me
for a while.

Thank you for listening.
Heil Hitler. "

- Howard.
- Herr Noth.

Interesting time
to visit your in-laws.

If you wish to stay a while,
perhaps you can help me...

greet the Russians
when they arrive.

I'm going to the front.

Right over that way.

An easy walk from here.
You can make it in a day...

picking buttercups as you go.

May I ask
where you're moving to?

I'm staying here.

My wife is at my brother's home
in Cologne. Resi will join her today.

- But why stay here?
- With the Russian army at my doorstep?

I'm still the chief of police.

I'll not have my people say
I fled with my tail between my legs.

Is there anything I can do?

Yes.
You can shoot Resi's dog.

It can't make the trip,
and I can't take care of it here...

so you can shoot it.

- Where is it?
- In the music room with Resi.

She knows it's to be shot.
You'll have no trouble with her.

All right.

You broke my heart
when you married my daughter.

I wanted a German soldier
for a son-in-law.

Yes. I know.

Because I hated you so much,
I studied you.

I listened to everything you said.

Never missed a broadcast.

Did you know that
until this very moment...

nothing would have
delighted me more...

than to prove you were a spy...

to see you shot?

Now I couldn't care less
if you are a spy.

- Do you know why?
- No.

Because now I know
that even if you were a spy...

you could never have served the enemy
as well as you served us.

All the ideals that make me
proud of being a Nazi...

they came not from Hitler...

not from Goebbels...

but from you.

You alone kept me from concluding
that Germany had gone insane.

Now, look how you've grown.

You are here to kill my dog...

aren't you?

Yes.

But, Resi, it's not something
I want to do very much.

That's all right.

I never liked it anyway.

I just felt sorry for it.

I'm going to the front.
I just came to say good-bye.

Which front?

The Russian.

You'll die, then?

Well, maybe not.

Everybody who isn't dead now
will be dead soon...

including me.

I'm sure you're going to be fine.

That's all right.
It won't hurt.

Suddenly I just
won't be anymore.

Since we'll all be dead soon,
I might as well tell you something.

What is it?

I love you.

Oh, Resi,
that's very sweet.

No. I mean I really love you.

When Helga was alive
and you two would come here...

sometimes I envied her,
and sometimes I hated her.

When she died, I dreamt
I would grow up and marry you...

and be a famous actress,
and you'd write plays for me.

I see.

I'm very honored.

That's all right.
It doesn't mean anything now.

Nothing means anything.

Go ahead and shoot the dog.

Resi was only half right.

From what I could gather,
she was dead before long...

but I went on living.

Had I actually traveled
to the Russian front...

surely I would have died
as Resi predicted.

Instead, I motorcycled around
the German countryside...

thinking I could simply
wait out the war.

My little respite ended
two months later...

when I was captured by Lieutenant
Bernard B. O'Hare, American 3rd Army.

I had said "good morning"
to him in passing...

and he recognized my voice
from the radio broadcasts.

O'Hare seemed to take all
the things I said rather personally.

After my capture,
the American army escorted me...

on a private tour
of the Nazi death camp at Oerdre.

They thought it would be
interesting to see my reaction...

to the fruits of my labor.

Take a good look
at your Kraut friends, Campbell...

'cause you're next.

To me,
they looked quite peaceful.

Two days later I was driven away
by two American soldiers.

I couldn't quite tell
if they knew who I was.

Well, Howard...

what did you think of that war?

Is that you, Wirtanen?

I got to hand it to you...
you lived through it.

- A lot of people didn't, you know.
- Yes.

Yes, I know.

I know. My wife.
My wife, for instance.

Yeah. Sorry about that. I found out
about that a few days before you did.

You found out about it before me?
How did you find that out?

That was one of the pieces
of information you broadcast that week.

I broadcast that...

that my wife had died?

I didn't even know it?
You knew she was dead and I didn't?

I would have liked
to have mourned.

Well, what happens to me now?

You've already disappeared.

The 3rd Army's been relieved of ya.
There's no records to show your capture.

So, Howard,
where do you want to go from here?

Oh, I don't know.

I don't suppose there's a hero's
welcome waiting for me anywhere.

Hardly.

We can't exactly start bragging
about all the clever tricks we pulled.

We might need them again
for the next war.

No, your role
will remain classified...

and Uncle Sam's official position is
that you're the scum of the earth.

Scum of the earth, huh?

What about my parents?

I'm sorry, Howard.
They both died about six months ago.

Both?

Father first, and your mother
two days later. Heart both times.

Did anyone tell them
what I was really doing?

Come on, Howard.
What were we supposed to do?

Sacrifice our radio station
in the heart of Berlin...

for the peace of mind
of two old people?

Oh, no, no. We wouldn't want that!
How many people knew what I was doing?

- There were three of us.
- Just three?

- It's probably too many.
- Three people knew me for what I was?

Everyone else knew you
for what you were, too.

Wait. How can you say that?
You think I'm a Nazi? I wasn't a Nazi.

Well, let me ask you
something, Howard:

What would you have done
if Germany had won the war?

Marched right up to your pal
Goebbels and surrendered?

Told him you were actually
a patriotic American spy?

Yes, I might have marched in there!
I might have escaped. I don't know.

Oh, all right.
You want me to be a Nazi?

You go ahead.
Classify me as a Nazi.

You want to hang me? Go ahead
if you think it'll raise morale.

I don't consider this life
any great treasure.

Well, I just want you to know
how little we can really do for you.

How little?

False identity, some cash,
transportation to a new place...

Anywhere you'd like to go, Howard?
How 'bout New York?

You can lose yourself pretty easily.
Plenty of work if you want it.

All right.
New York then.

Of the three that knew
I was a spy, who were the other two?

The second was
General Donovan of the O.S. S...

and the third,
I'm sorry to say, is dead.

You used to attack him
every night on your broadcast.

You called him
Franklin Delano Rosenfeld.

He got a big kick out of that.
He used to listen to you every night.

"Life"

"New York City
1960"

At first I lived
under a false name.

The idea was to start
from scratch, lead a new life.

After a while, though, it became clear
that I really had no life...

so the alias became unnecessary...

and I went back
to using my own name.

No one ever asked whether I was
the Howard W. Campbell, Jr.

All of my belongings,
like myself, were war surplus...

coming from recreation kits
intended for troops overseas.

They even included
phonograph records...

so I became the proud owner of 26 copies
of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas."

"Property of U.S. Gov't"

I survived my purgatory
in New York...

the same way I survived
the hell of wartime Germany...

I let my emotions be stirred
by only one thing...

my love for Helga.

It remained the permanent axis
about which my thoughts revolved.

To you, my love...

to your beauty
and to my undying devotion.

To das Reich der Zwei...

nation of two.

It's very nice, isn't it?

It's very dry.

Just the way you like it, hmm?

Yes.

- Dr. Epstein?
- Yes.

I'm your neighbor from upstairs.

I've cut myself.

Well, you won't need stitches.

The blood often makes these things
look worse than they really are.

Well, thank you, Doctor.
I'm very grateful.

No problem.

I'm only sorry it took this
to provide an introduction.

Yes, yes.
No, you're right.

That's a very famous name
you have.

Pardon me?

You never heard of
Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

broadcasting from Berlin?

From Berlin...

Yes, I do remember now.

It was a long time ago.

I never listened to him,
but I remember he was in the news.

Those things fade.

Those things should fade.

That insane moment in history
should be forgotten.

You know of Auschwitz?

Yes, yes, of course
I know of Auschwitz.

That is where I spent
my young womanhood...

and my son the doctor here...

he spent his childhood.

- Oh, well, I'm sorry.
- Forget Auschwitz.

It doesn't do any good.

There.

No need for amputation.

- Just keep it dry for a few days.
- Well, thank you.

No problem.
I'll see you out.

What? Pardon me?

I asked if you spoke German.

Oh. No, no, no.
I'm afraid not.

Good-bye.
That's "good-bye," isn't it?

It's "till we meet again."

Oh. Till we meet again.

Well, auf Wiedersehen.

Yes.

Yes?

Campbell, it's Adolph Eichmann.

I'm in the cell above you.

Yes, Eichmann. Hello.

You're always typing in there...

day and night
and night and day...

typing, typing, typing...

Is it bothering you?

No. I'm a heavy sleeper.

I'm only curious.
Are you preparing your memoir?

Yes. A command performance
for the Haifa Institute.

You're a lucky man.

I'm lucky?

How do you consider me lucky?

You can type.
I'm writing mine longhand.

One day I got the idea that a hobby
might help pass the time in purgatory.

Ironically...

in my solitude
I had created something...

that could only be used in concert
with another human being.

Yeah.

George Kraft?

Who is it?

I'm Howard Campbell,
your neighbor from upstairs.

What do you want?

I want to know if you play chess.

I didn't know I had a painter
living under me.

Where do you show your work?

I don't show my work.

Well, you should.

You been painting all your life?

No, not really.

My wife died four years ago...

and I had the choice of either...

coming to Greenwich Village to be
a painter or blowing my brains out...

so I flipped a coin, and here I am.

At least you had painting
you could turn to.

What does that mean?
You mean you lost your wife too?

Yeah. I see you in the hallway
and I say, "yes...

this man too
is a member of the brotherhood."

- The brotherhood?
- Brotherhood of the walking wounded.

World's largest organization, and you
don't know it exists until you're in it.

You become a member when you lose
the one thing that gives life meaning.

And the thing that bonds you together,
that holds the group in one piece...

is the fact that the members
are absolutely incapable...

of speaking to one another.

Sorry.
I don't mean to rattle on.

How'd you lose your wife?

I can't speak about it.

Well, of course
you can't speak about it.

You're a member
of the brotherhood.

The day came
that I told him everything.

It all spilled out of me...

You know, I knew the war was over,
and Germany was going to lose...

and here I was an American spy.

My parents,
my boyhood in Germany...

about Helga
and our nation of two...

my blue fairy godmother,
the speeches, the code...

my capture
and my banishment to purgatory.

I didn't have anything to live for.
I lost my wife, I lost my nation of two.

George Kraft, my only living friend,
took it all in stride.

Yeah, but why doesn't
the government come forward and say...

"This man you're spitting on
is a hero"?

George, nobody spits on me.

Nobody even knows I'm alive.

Life continued unchanged...

for a while.

"The White Christian Minuteman
Supreme Court Demands U.S. Be Mongrel"

"An American Tragedy!"

Howard W. Campbell, Jr., a great writer
and fearless American patriot...

now lives in poverty and in loneliness
in a one-bedroom apartment...

at 61 Bethune Street
in New York City.

Such is the fate of thinking men
brave enough to tell the truth...

about the conspiracy of international
Jewish bankers and communists...

who won't rest until the body of every
American is hopelessly polluted...

with Negro and/ or Oriental blood. "

Maybe it was that lady downstairs...
Epstein's mother.

Why wouldn't she just
call the authorities?

Why would she send my address
to some racist newsletter?

Why don't you set the record straight?
It's time you wrote again anyway.

I'm afraid dead men don't
write very well.

That's not true.
All the best writers are dead.

That's the most truthful thing
you've said today.

Listen to me.
It's because while you're dead...

you have nothing to lose,
you can be completely courageous.

Find yourself a woman,
start writing again.

- A woman?
- A woman.

George, you better stop drinking.
My portrait's gonna look like a Picasso.

- Don't change the subject.
- I'm not changing the subject.

- Sit up.
- I am sitting up.

All right, I tell you what.
You get a woman, then I'll get one.

I don't need a woman.
I'm on fire for my muse.

You, however...
you're a mortal.

You need a woman.

- I already got one.
- No, you don't.

- Yes, I do.
- Had a woman.

- Past tense. She's dead.
- I don't wanna talk about this.

I'm only telling
you what you need to hear.

- If you're gonna speak the truth...
- Oh, God, did I hit a nerve?

- No, you didn't hit a nerve. I'm fine.
- I am so sorry.

No, don't be sorry.
Don't be humble, George.

- I'm abject. I feel really...
- No, you're not abject.

- Go ahead, talk. I can't hear you.
- God, I just...

I just shoot my mouth off,
and l...

I don't know...
I'm gonna...

One, two, three, rest.

One, two, three, four.

- Who is it?
- Howard W. Campbell, Jr.?

Who is it?

It's the Reverend Dr. Lionel Jones...

D.D.S., D.D.

I presume you received
our complimentary issue...

of the White Christian Minuteman.

It's all right, Howard.
I'm with friends.

Howard W. Campbell.

What an honor.

I feel as if my whole life
was leading up to this moment.

How do you do?

Please, allow me to introduce you
to my bodyguard...

August Krapptauer.

Vice Bundesfuehrer Emeritus
at the German-American Bund.

A great, great pleasure,
Mr. Campbell.

And my secretary,
Father Patrick Keeley...

former chaplain
of the Detroit Gun Club.

Words fail me, Herr Campbell.

Likewise, I'm sure.

- Could we get some water?
- Yeah, of course, of course.

The climb up your stairs was
quite an effort for our Mr. Krapptauer.

Might we bother you
for a glass of water?

All right. Come on in.

This is my good friend
and neighbor, George Kraft.

How do you do?

- Yours?
- Yes.

What a marvelous likeness
of our Mr. Campbell.

You've done a masterful job
capturing the jaw line.

Have you a background
in dentistry?

Dentistry? No.

Well, as one who's devoted his life
to dental medicine...

allow me to say that you have
perfectly duplicated...

Mr. Campbell's Aryan jaw line.

- Oh, I'm thrilled that you noticed.
- How could I miss it?

Are you familiar with my book,
Christ Was Not a Jew?

I could never find a copy.

Oh, that's too bad.

Father Keeley, make a note
that we must send Mr. Kraft...

an autographed copy.

In it, I reproduce
50 famous paintings of Christ...

and point out that not one of them
shows Jewish jaws or teeth.

- I don't know what to say.
- Well...

I had to publish the book myself.

But what can you expect when
the publishing industry is run by Jews?

Oh, of course, forgive me.

I've been talking so much,
I almost forgot what brought us here.

What does bring you here, Jones?

A surprise for you, Mr. Campbell,
waiting downstairs.

Why don't you just tell me
what this is about?

Forgive me, Mr. Campbell...

but I have promised
not to spoil the surprise.

Now, I give my word...
if you're displeased...

we'll take it away with us
and leave you in peace.

- Where is it?
- At the bottom of the stairwell.

You can't miss it.

All right.

- Want me to go with you?
- No.

I'll be right back.

There is no room
in your life for me.

I will say good-bye...

and I will never bother you again.

No room in my life?

My life is nothing
but room for you.

God, you're alive.
How can it be?

Oh, look at you.
You haven't changed.

- I have so much to tell.
- Yes.

I always knew you'd come back.
I always knew that.

I just didn't know when or how.

There's somebody I want you to meet.
I want you to meet George Kraft.

- This is Helga.
- Hello. Welcome.

I presume you weren't disappointed.

How did you do this?
How did you bring my wife back to me?

A subscriber in West Germany
wired me...

that Mrs. Campbell had just arrived
as a refugee.

One day I learn that you're alive...

a month later
that your wife is alive.

Now, what can I call a coincident
like that but the hand of God?

Why don't we let Mr. And Mrs. Campbell
have a few minutes alone now?

Yes, of course. Our chauffeur will
bring up Mrs. Campbell's bags.

No need, no need.

- You fool, what are you doing?
- I'm fine, perfectly fine.

You're risking your life,
exerting yourself like that.

It's an honor to risk my life
for a man who served Adolph Hitler...

as well as Howard W. Campbell, Jr.

He's gone.

Maybe I should call an ambulance.
Yes.

That's terrible, just terrible.

Poor, dear August.

Who's going to carry
the torch now?

Excuse me?
Everything all right up here?

No, as a matter of fact.
August just died.

Oh, no. That's a shame.

- Now, that's a real shame.
- Mr. Campbell...

Robert Sterling Wilson,
the black fuehrer of Harlem.

I heard about you,
but I never listened to you.

- That's all right.
- We was on different sides.

See, I was on the side with the colored
folks. I was with the Japanese.

I hear you say you didn't think
colored folks was so good.

Now, Robert, let's not squabble
amongst ourselves.

Let's all work to pull together.

Now I'm just telling him like I tell you
and the reverend every morning.

Colored people gonna have
a hydrogen bomb all their own...

and pretty soon they gonna give Japan
the honor of dropping the first one.

Where?

China, I guess.

On other colored people?

Now whoever told you
a Chinaman was colored?

Mutter, Vatter und Resi...

are all dead.

Yeah. Yes, I know.

But l... I am alive.

How?

Well, l...

It's all right.
It doesn't matter.

Our life starts tonight.

We'll check into a hotel.

Tomorrow we'll find
a new place to live.

I've found an old store
that has our bed in it.

Do you remember our old bed?

- Yeah.
- Ja.

We'll start again
right where we left off.

Nation of two.

- Us.
- That's right.

Yeah.

But...

we do not have to
check in to a hotel.

It's been so long.

I'm no longer a young man.

She had been captured and raped
in the Crimea...

and then shipped to the Ukraine
and put to work on a labor gang.

Nobody told her the war was over.

After her repatriation, she was sent
to Dresden, East Germany...

and put to work
in a cigarette factory.

Eventually,
she escaped to West Berlin...

and days later,
she was flying back to my embrace.

All that mattered now was that
our nation of two was whole again.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Welcome home.

Now here...
Here it is right here.

Excuse us. Here.

Helga, right here.
Here's the bed.

It's locked. Veterans Day.
It's Veterans Day. Damn it.

Oh, goddamn it!

Howard, you have changed.

Forgive me, I'm sorry.

Yes, I've changed, but people should
be changed by world wars.

Otherwise, what are world wars for?

Maybe you have changed so much
that you do not love me anymore.

How could you say that
after last night, huh?

We really have not talked
anything over.

But, Helga, what is there
to talk about?

No words could change
the way I feel.

Do you mean it?

Yes, of course I mean it.

Nothing I could say
could spoil it.

Nothing you could ever say
could spoil it.

Never, never.

I'm not Helga.

I'm Resi...

her little sister.

What?

You said you loved me.

- How could you do this to me?
- I love you.

You love me? How could you love me?
You don't even know who I am.

When I got to West Berlin...

they gave me papers
to fill out...

name, occupation,
nearest living relative.

I had a choice.
I could stay Resi Noth...

secret machine operator
with no family anywhere...

or I could be Helga Noth...

famous actress and wife
of a brilliant, handsome playwright...

living in America.

A man I love deeply.

Who should I have been?

Howard, for ten years
in that factory...

the only things that kept me alive
were daydreams of being my sister Helga.

So Resi disappeared.

I don't know what to say.

You picked a hell of a person to be.

That is who I am.

I am Helga.

You believed it.

Was I or was I not Helga
to you last night?

That's a hell of a question
to ask a gentleman.

Am I entitled to an answer?

Would you sometime
write a play for me?

I don't think I can write anymore.

Did Helga inspire you to write?

Not to write,
but to write the way I wrote.

We used to say that
I wrote parts for her...

that let her play
the quintessence of Helga.

I want you to do that
for me one day.

The q...

- The quintes...
- Quintessence.

The quintessence of Resi.

Maybe I will.

Resi was growing younger
by the second.

Although she had bleached her hair white
to appear older...

it now spoke to me of peroxide...

and girls who run away to Hollywood.

Finally, I have a home.

It takes a heap of living
to make a house a home.

- Who did that?
- Who did what?

That.

Howard Campbell?

You know him?

It's funny...
You look just like him.

Don't that look
like the gentleman you're with?

Let me see.

"Israel Locates
War Criminal in U.S."

Before the Jews put you in the zoo,
I'm gonna have some fun with you myself.

You felt that one, huh?
That was for Private Irvin Buchanan.

- Is that you?
- No, he was my best friend.

Five miles in from Omaha Beach,
the Germans, they cut his nuts off...

and they hung him
from a telephone pole.

And this... this is for Axel Brewer.

He got run over
by a tiger tank in Aachen.

- This is for Eddie McCarty.
- Please!

He got cut in half
by a schmeizer.

And this... this is for...

Do not speak, liebling.

- Where are we?
- We are safe.

You have been asleep.
They will not find us here.

- Who won't find us here?
- The Jews, sweetheart.

What's on my chest?

You had your ribs taped up.

By whom?

The doctor who lives
in your building.

- Epstein.
- Ja, that was him. He was very nice.

I used his phone to call Dr. Jones,
and he brought us here.

How nice to have friends.

Ja, come in.

- How's he doing?
- He has just woken up.

How's your head?

Splitting.

- You ought to take an aspirin.
- Thanks for the advice.

You see, most things in this world
don't work, but aspirin do.

Resi, the newspapers...

Is it true the Israelis
want to put me on trial?

Dr. Jones says the American government
will not let you go...

but the Jews will send men
to kidnap you...

like they did Herr Eichmann.

It ain't like having a Jew here,
a Jew there after you.

They got everything after you
but the Jewish hydrogen bomb.

What the hell is that?

That was your friend.

- Jones?
- No, George Kraft.

What's George doing here?

He is coming with us.
We are all leaving the country.

Dr. Jones has made
the arrangements.

Howard! Look who's up and around.
How do you feel?

I'd stand a better chance if it weren't
for the racket you're making.

Sorry, just killing a little time.
God, you scared me half to death.

I was worried sick about you.

You know, it was bound to happen
sooner or later.

Well, it's all for the best.
You'll see.

You'll have a new identity,
get a new place, new country...

be able to start writing again.

I might even be a better painter
in Mexico.

- Mexico?
- Well, look who's back on his feet.

Well, I guess you can't keep
a good man down.

That's the spirit.
Howard...

Wednesday night is
the weekly meeting...

of the Iron Guard of the White Sons
of the American Constitution.

Father Keeley and I want to stage a
memorial service for August Krapptauer.

We thought that perhaps you,
being Krapptauer's mentor...

might say a few words.

I've thought of a general theme,
if that helps.

I'm sure I could use one.

I think the theme should be...

"His Truth Goes Marching On."

What could I possibly say
to a bunch of junior storm troopers?

I knew their fearless leader
for all of 20 seconds...

before he dropped dead
on my stairway.

You'll find the right words.

You always do.

When we get to Mexico...

I'm going to write again.

Did I have something to do
with this miracle?

Mm-hmm, everything.

Very little, but some.

Yes.

The real miracle...

is the talent you were born with.

The real miracle is your ability
to raise the dead.

- The love does that.
- Yes.

It raised me too.

Today, the mayor admitted
his embarrassment...

that a notorious war criminal
had been living an anonymous life...

in New York
for at least some of that time.

He also noted that neither he
nor the United States government...

have any authority to hand Campbell over
to the Israeli government for trial.

However, it all may be a moot point.

Howard W. Campbell has,
once again, escaped without a trace.

This is Campbell's
last known residence.

The modest apartment in Greenwich
Village has been vandalized...

by locals angered by Campbell's
latest escape from justice.

The United States government
has promised to make a full review...

of Campbell's citizenship status...

and to find out why he was never
brought to trial previously.

In the meantime, Israel has stepped up
its demands for Campbell...

encouraged by the idea that he may not
be a citizen of the U. S...

that he may, in fact,
be a citizen of nowhere at all.

We must never forget that
a propagandist of Campbell's sort...
"Israeli Vice-Consul"

is every bit as much of a mass murderer
as Eichmann, Himmler and even Hitler.

How many millions of people
lost their lives...

because of the lies he spread
during the war?

We will find Campbell,
just as we found Eichmann.

A man can't hide forever
when his hands are covered...

with the blood
of six million human beings.

"Work Makes You Free"
Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

wanted to be here tonight...

to tell you of his long and fulfilling
association with your fallen hero.

But he's asked me to make this
brief statement to you...

on his behalf.

The truth of your leader,
August Krapptauer, and those like him...

will be with mankind forever...

as long as there are men and women
who listen to their guts...

instead of their minds.

And now for a special treat.

A subscriber to the
White Christian Minuteman in Vermont...

has made us a loan
of some very rare material...

which I'm sure you'll find
most inspiring.

Robert?

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

Tonight, I would like to ask
a common question:

Why are we enemies of theJew?

The answer is simple.

TheJew is the cause
and the beneficiary of our slavery.

He has made two halves
of the fatherland.

TheJew has no interest in the solution
of Germany's problems.

He can't.
He wants them to remain unsolved.

You see, he has a better trump in
his hand if a nation lives in slavery...

than one that is free.

TheJew is the cause
of our misery...

and today he lives on our trust.

And that is why,
as National Socialists...

we are enemies of theJew.

He has ruined our race,
rotted our morals...

corrupted our traditions
and broken our power.

As long as we are true
to our Aryan heritage...

he is a leper among us.

If we ignore our destiny, he will
triumph over us and our future.

TheJew is the plastic demon
of the fall of mankind.

He thrives in filth and garbage,
and he spreads disease.

He steals our possessions
and lusts after our women.

He pretends to be afraid
of this victim...

and before the unfortunate one knows it,
his neck is broken.

We areJew-haters
because we are proud to be Aryans.

It isn't true that we eat a Jew
with every breakfast.

But it is true that theJew
is slowly eating away at our future.

That is going to change
as surely as we are Aryans...

as surely as world supremacy...

is the birthright
of the Aryan race.

"Leave Thru Coal Bin Door.
Cross Alley #645. Life In Danger!"
This has been Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

Thank you for listening.

Heil Hitler.

I gotta admit, Howard, act three
had me on the edge of my seat.

My blue fairy godmother.

I was beginning to wonder
if you really existed.

I exist all right.
I'm just retired. Eight years now.

Imagine my surprise when they called me
out of retirement two months ago.

- For me?
- Yeah.

- Why all this sudden interest in me?
- That's what I'm supposed to find out.

Well, it's no mystery
why the Israelis wouldn't want me.

No, the mystery is why the Russians
should think you're such a fat prize.

The Russians?
What Russians?

Well, at least two in this country.

One is your friend,
Colonel Iona Potipov.

- Potipov?
- Sorry, you know him as George Kraft.

He's been operating in the U.S.
As a Russian spy since '35.

George Kraft's not a spy.

- I mean, George told me about his wife.
- His wife?

In Indianapolis who died four years ago?
No such person.

He's got a wife, all right,
still living in Proscurov.

He just hasn't seen her for 25 years.

I don't imagine he's mentioned the three
children or nine grandchildren.

- Kraft, he was...
- Potipov.

Whatever. He was living
in the building for three years.

I mean, he didn't
introduce himself to me.

I went downstairs.
I introduced myself to him.

From what I can tell, you weren't part
of his original agenda.

Just sort of an unexpected perk.

Everything was nice and quiet
until he sent an anonymous letter...

to your protege, Dr. Jones,
telling him where you were.

Then the excrement
really hit the air-conditioning.

It was Kraft.

If it makes you feel any better,
he really is a painter.

I don't think much of his work,
but what do I know about art?

Maybe it's okay. Maybe that's
the one thing you can't fake.

Maybe you're the exception
to that too.

What was Kraft's plan for me?

Well, when he tipped off Jones...

he knew you'd become news again.

He figured he could get you out of the
country easier and stay by your side.

And you could be kidnapped
with fewer international complications.

I see. I see.

Well...

you said there was two Russian spies.

Who's the other?
Jones?

Nah, Jones is
the one true friend you got.

Seems he's the only one
with your best interest at heart.

Who's the other one?

No, not Resi.

No, goddamn you!
Not Resi!

Relax, Howard,
I'm only the messenger.

You're a goddamn liar.

I'm sure she had you thinking about your
new life and how nice it would be...

but it wouldn't have gone that way.

When you got to the airport in Mexico
City, there'd be a second plane...

and off you'd go on a one-way trip
to Moscow, all expenses paid.

What could the Russians
possibly want...

with such a burned-out piece
of World War II surplus?

They can exhibit you
as a prime example...

of the fascist war criminals
that this country shelters.

They also hope you'll confess
to all sorts of collusion...

between the Nazis and Americans
before and after the war.

I think that's our echo.

You've been typing
for almost 15 hours straight.

Me, I've barely written
five pages in as many days.

When do you eat?

I don't know.

I hear your trial starts
in a couple of days.

Where's your lawyer?

He's trying to find the one person
who'll corroborate my defense.

So far I'm told he
doesn't exist.

Listen, Campbell,
can I give you some advice?

Certainly.

Spend some time
in the exercise yard...

or have them bring in
a radio or television.

You've got to learn to relax.

It is important to learn
how to relax.

That's how I got here!

Hey, Eichmann, can I ask you
a personal question?

Certainly.

Do you believe you're guilty
of murdering six million Jews?

Absolutely not.

Oh, you were simply a soldier,
were you?

Taking orders from higher-ups,
is that right, Eichmann...

like any good soldier?

- Campbell?
- Yes.

- About those six million...
- Yes?

I don't need credit for all of them.

I'm sure I could spare you a few.

- Where were you?
- We were worried about you, old boy.

- You are cold.
- I just stepped outside for some air.

- That was a bit of a risk, wasn't it?
- Yeah, it was a bit of a risk...

but you know what Jones says:
"I'll sacrifice anything for the truth."

This is torture having to stay
in this cramped room...

for the fear of our lives.

How can people treat us like this?

Oh, I don't know, Resi.

You know, in spite of everything...

I still believe people
are really good at heart.

You know?

Tomorrow we will start our new lives,
and then you will be able to relax.

Oh, yes, to relax.

- You know, I was thinking...
- What? Tell me.

I was thinking that maybe Mexico
isn't what we want.

We can just go on from there.

Maybe right at the Mexico City airport,
we could just get right on another jet.

Onto...

I don't know.
We could go to the Caribbean.

- We could go to Moscow maybe.
- Moscow?

That's a novel idea.

- You don't like it?
- I would have to think about it.

I want you
to think about it, too, okay?

- Yeah, if you want.
- Yeah.

You know,
the more I think about it...

the better it sounds.

What can you possibly
find interesting about Moscow?

Well, I don't know.
I'd like to visit an old friend.

You never told me
you had a friend in Moscow.

Gee, George, I guess it just
never came up in a conversation.

What's his name?

Colonel Iona Potipov.

- Don't know him.
- Don't know him, huh?

It doesn't matter. He's just a spy
trying to get me to Mexico City...

so I can be kidnapped
and flown to Russia to stand trial.

- That is not...
- Don't even think about it.

God, Howard, this is ridiculous.

Cowboys and Indians.

Yeah, all right, George.

Howard, this is not who I am.
This is the way things are.

Nobody should know that
better than you.

- Yeah. Yeah.
- Sweetheart.

That dream about Mexico...
it was really true.

Tomorrow we were all
going to escape.

It was our mission
to get to Moscow...

but then I was not going
to go through with it...

because I love you.

I told you I was not gonna go through
with it, did I not?

Yes, you did.
She told me.

And he agreed with me. He came up
with the dream of Mexico...

where we would all get out
of this trap together.

- How did you find out?
- American agents.

They'll be raiding our
happy little home any minute now.

That's unfortunate.

Then we must leave right now, liebling,
while we still can.

It's too late, darling.
We're already surrounded.

- Then we will fight them.
- Resi, you don't understand.

I said, we are surrounded.

Does that matter?

Yes, of course that matters. We...

You mean,
why don't I die for love...

like a hero
in a Howard W. Campbell play?

Yeah.

Ja, that is exactly
what I mean.

Let us die together...
here and now.

You have a full life ahead of you.

I have a full life behind me.

All in those few sweet hours
with you.

Sounds like a line
I might have written as a young man.

It is a line you wrote
as a young man.

A foolish young man.

I adore that man.

I'm sorry, I can't congratulate you
on your taste in men.

You no longer...

you no longer believe
that love is the only thing to live for?

Well, no.

Then tell me what to live for.

Tell me anything.
It does not have to be love.

Anything at all!
I will live for that chair...

or that picture on the wall
or that crack over there!

Just tell me.
Tell me what you live for...

and I will live for that too!

Resi, what I live for is...

I'm an old man.

I will show you what to live for.

I will show you a woman
who dies for love.

No, Resi.
No, no, my God.

Don't move a muscle.

The morning after the raid
on Jones's basement...

I was released...

thanks, I suppose,
to my blue fairy godmother.

I was deposited
onto the streets of New York...

restored to the mainstream of life.

I took several steps
down the sidewalk...

when something happened.

It was not guilt that froze me.

I had taught myself
never to feel guilt.

It wasn't the fear of death.

I had taught myself
to think of death as a friend.

It was not the thought
of being unloved that froze me.

I had taught myself
to do without love.

What froze me was the fact
that I had absolutely no reason...

to move in any direction.

Are you all right?

Yes.

Been standing there a long time.

Waiting for somebody?

You lost?

Better move on then,
don't you think?

Yeah.

"Nazi Pig"

"Keep Out"

"Let's Finish The Job!"

Who is it?

- It's Howard Campbell.
- What do you want?

Could I come in?

You're going to have to tell me
what this is about.

I want to go to Israel
to stand trial.

What?

I want to be tried
for my crimes against humanity.

What do you want from me?

I want to surrender
to an Auschwitzer.

Then find one who thinks
of Auschwitz all the time.

And don't speak Yiddish!
We are in America now!

If you can't remember,
I will remember for both of us.

- You still want revenge, is that it?
- Yes.

Then go on with your plan
because it proves nothing.

Mr. Campbell,
I think I can help you.

Thank you.

Yes.

"Translation: 'Corpse carriers
to the guardhouse."'

"Tomorrow"

"My Trial"

"Begins"

"Dear Howard...

The discipline of a lifetime now
collapses like the walls ofJericho.

What is the tune
that Joshua's trumpet plays?

Is that the music of my conscience?
I doubt it. I've done you no wrong.

I think the music must be an old
soldier's itch for a little treason.

And treason this letter is.

I hereby violate
my direct and explicit orders...

and identify myself as the man
you knew as Frank Wirtanen. "

I affirm and will affirm
under oath...

that I recruited you
as an American agent...

and that you,
at great personal sacrifice...

became one of the most effective
agents of the Second World War.

If there must be a trial
of Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

let it be one hell of a contest...

and may justice be served.

Yours truly, Frank.

May justice be served.

I like the sound of that.

They say that a hanging man
hears glorious music.

I wonder what it sounds like.