All language subtitles for Berlin Alexanderplatz E02.720p.BluRay.x264-DEPTH.English

...together with major contributions

by many others, present:

a film in 13 parts with an epilogue,
based on the novel by Alfred Döblin.

Two marks fifty,

sixty,

seventy...

eighty,

ninety.

And that's the lot.

Over and out!

But...

if I were to...

Don't interrupt me again.

- If I were maybe to...
- No!

When I say no, I mean no.

I don't want you
earning money for me.

I don't want to live on money
earned by someone I love.

It brings bad luck.
You understand?

And I swore it as well.

I swore it that first night, Lina.

Yes, Franz.

And promise me
you'll never bring it up again.

- Bring me a schnapps, Maxie!
- Coming up.

How many unemployed people
are there in Berlin?

I don't know.
A few hundred thousand maybe.

You reckon?

Oh, well...

One mark, two marks,

two marks fifty,

sixty, seventy, eighty,

ninety.

Hey!

Hi, Meck!

Come and join us!

- Cheers!
- Thanks.

- A beer for me, please.
- OK.

That's all you've got, eh?

Mhmm...

Well, then...

Yeah?

We'll just have to see.

Part 2: How Is One to Live
If One Doesn't Want to Die?

...it's too cold for excavating work.
Trade would be the best thing.

In Berlin or in the country,
that's up to you.

At least you'd have a full belly.

Why doesn't the proletarian man
wear a tie?

Because he can't tie one.

So he has to buy a tie-holder,

and when he's bought one,
he's no better off:

he still can't
tie the thing with it.

That's a swindle.
It makes people resentful.

It pushes Germany deeper into
misery than it already is.

Why don't people want to wear
a big tie-holder?

They don't want a dustpan
around their necks.

No man,
no woman wants that,

not even a baby if it could
express an opinion.

Buy a tie-holder like that
at Tietz's or Wertheim's,

or if you don't want to buy
from Jews, buy it somewhere else.

I'm an Aryan.

The big department stores
don't need me...

to advertise for them.
They can get along without me.

Buy yourself a tie-holder
like these ones here,

then consider how
to tie it in the morning.

Listen, folks,

who's got time nowadays
to tie a tie in the morning?

Who wouldn't rather sleep
a minute longer?

We all need our sleep.
We have to work so hard...

and don't earn much.

A tie-holder like this...

will help you to sleep better.

That's competition
for the drugstores.

Buy a tie-holder from me,

and you won't need
sleeping potions and nightcaps.

You won't need anything at all.

You'll sleep like a baby
at its mother's breast...

No scramble in the morning:

what you need is
there on the dresser.

Just push it under your collar!

You spend your money
on so much other junk!

"Deutsches Tageblatt."
Latest edition!

"Deutsches Tageblatt."
Latest edition!

Hot sausages!

Yes, but... Wait...! That's...

"Deutsches Tageblatt"...

You're buying
quality merchandise here.

Not celluloid.
It's all genuine rubber.

20 pfennigs each.
Three for 50 pfennigs.

Keep off the road, young man,
or you'll get run over!

And who's going
to clear away the mess?

Let me explain how to knot this tie.

No sledgehammer tactics
needed here!

You'll get it right away.

You take both ends like this,
12 to 14 inches long,

then fold it over,

but not like this.

That looks like
a squashed bug on the wall,

a kippered herring on your chest.

A gentleman wouldn't be
seen dead in it.

So use my little gadget here.

It saves time, and time is money.

This fine little thing
is just what you need.

Look!
The ideal Christmas present!

It suits your taste,

and it's for your convenience.

If the Dawes Plan
has left you anything at all,

it's your head under your lid.

And your head will tell you
that you need this,

that you should buy it and
take it home, and it'll comfort you.

Hot sausages! Hot dogs...!

Who was that woman?

That... that... was Eva,

a girl I used to know.

But that's history.
It's all over now.

You know, Lina,
I'm no good at speaking.

I'm not a public orator.

When I call out my stuff,
they understand me,

but it's not the real thing.

Do you know what mettle is?

No.

Mettle is spirit, brains...

and not just your nut.

And a speaker...

is a speaker.

You are one, Franz.

Don't tell me that!
Me? A speaker?

No.

Do you know who was a speaker?

You see. I don't either.

But this here is nothing for me.

I've been thinking about it all day.

I want to sell newspapers.

Newspapers?

That's right, newspapers.

It suddenly entered my head,
and it stayed there,

and it's the right thing.

Newspapers.

I'm going to see
what we can do about it.

You stay here and carry on for me!

You're better at it
than I am anyway.

Bye!

Hello!

Well, any ideas?

Tie-holders are not
the right thing for me.

That's like...

selling something
I don't need myself.

If I were you,
I'd try sexual education.

It's all the rage now,
and it sells well.

What is it?

Here!

Just take a look! Then you won't
ask any more questions.

- Pictures of naked girls!
- I don't have them in any other form.

Say, buddy,

- is this your idea of fun?
- What?

The girls here,
and pictures like that.

"Laughing Life."

They paint a naked girl
with a kitten.

What's she doing
on the stairs with a kitten?

Strange bird!

Do you mind if I look?

Let me take a look at these.

"Figaro" it's called.

And this one: "Marriage."

And this: "Ideal Marriage."

Aha, that's something different
from marriage.

"Love Between Women."

All available separately.

There's a lot of information
if you've got the money,

but they're damned expensive...

Tell me,

is there a catch to it?

What catch should there be to it?

It's all above-board.
Nothing illegal.

I've got a permit for what I sell.
There's no catch to it.

I don't touch things like that.

All I can say is:
looking at pictures is no good.

I can tell you a tale about that.

It ruins a man. It screws him up.

It starts with looking at pictures

and later, when you want to,
it doesn't come natural anymore.

I don't understand what you mean.

Don't spit all over my magazines!
They cost money.

And don't mess up the covers!

Here,

read this:

"Unmarried Couples."

There's a special magazine
for everything.

"Unmarried Couples."

As if they didn't exist!

- I'm not married to Lina either.
- Look! Read this...

and tell me if it isn't true.
It's just an example:

The attempt to regulate...

a married couple's sex life
by contract...

and to dictate
conjugal obligations,

as prescribed by law,

is the most abominable and
humiliating form of slavery...

one can imagine.
There!

How come?

Is it true or not?

It doesn't arise in my case.

A woman who demands
something like that from a man...!

Do things like that really happen?

Go ahead and read it!

My God!
Just let her try that with me!

The attempt to regulate...

a married couple's sex life
by contract...

and to dictate
conjugal obligations,

as prescribed by law,

is the most abominable and
humiliating form of slavery...

one can imagine.

Hmm!

OK.
Here's "Love Between Women"...

and "Friendship,"

and they're not just talking:
they're fighting...

Yeah, for human rights.

What's their beef?

Paragraph 175,
if you're not aware of it.

It's a glaring injustice,

and it happens to millions
every day in Germany.

It's enough to make
your hair stand on end.

You can feel sorry for those guys,

but what's it got to do with me?

Did you find anything?

Well... maybe.

I told the old man
we're through with tie-holders.

I'm no good at it either.

No one buys anything from me.

There's a strange story
in this magazine.

A bald-headed guy
goes for a walk one night...

in the Tiergarten district.

He meets a good-looking boy,

who takes the man's arm right away.

After strolling around
for about an hour,

the bald-headed guy feels an urge...

to show his affection for the boy.

The guy's married,

but he's felt these things before,
and now he has to do it,

because it's such a wonderful feeling
or something.

"You're my sunshine!"
he says, and...

"My treasure!"

And he's so gentle, and...

That things like that exist!

Then the boy says to him:

"You know what?

"Let's go to a small hotel...
And you give me five marks...

"or ten marks,
because I'm flat broke."

And the old guy says:

"I'd do anything for you,
my sunshine."

And he gives him his whole wallet.

But in the hotel rooms,

there are peepholes in the doors.

The hotel owner sees something
and calls his wife,

and his wife sees something, too.

And they say they won't tolerate
things like that in their hotel,

the sort of things
they've just seen.

He should be ashamed
of seducing a boy like that.

They threaten to report him
to the police.

Then the porter comes
and the chambermaid,

and they all stand around grinning.

The next day, the bald-headed guy
buys two bottles of Asbach brandy...

and leaves on a business trip
to Helgoland.

He wants to drown his sorrows
and then drown himself or something.

Anyway, he sails on the ship...

and gets drunk,

but he doesn't kill himself
after all.

And one day,
while he's away convalescing,

his wife has to sign
a summons for him,

which she does.
But she also takes a look at it,

and sees everything described there:

the peepholes, and the wallet,

and the dear young man.

And when the bald-headed guy
comes back,

they all stand around him
crying their heads off:

his wife and his two
grown-up daughters.

Then he reads the summons himself.

"Your Honour, what did I do?

"I went to my room
and locked myself in.

"It's not my fault
if they have peepholes.

"No offense was committed."

And the boy confirms this.

"What did I do wrong?"

The bald-headed guy in furs sobs.

"Did I steal?

"Was I caught
breaking and entering?

"All I entered was the heart
of a dear young man.

"And I said:

"'You're my sunshine.'

"And he was, too."

I see.

Are you that way, too, maybe?

Like the guy in the magazine, huh?

What?

Lina!

Lina!

Lina, wait a minute!

Lina!

What's up with you?

What's all this nonsense?

No, Franz.
I'm not going with you.

We're through.

You can beat it.

What's all this nonsense?

Come on, Lina!

I'll give him back his trash.

Ouch!

Ouch! Oh!

My God, Franz!

I was so scared.

What's up? Come on!

Well, you know, I...

OK!

In the war zone, sweet, frowsy,
unwashed, little Lina,

her eyes red with tears,
made an autonomous thrust...

à la Prince of Homburg.

Noble Uncle Friedrich von der
Mark!

Natalie!
Let be! Let be!

Almighty God, now he is lost!
No matter. No matter.

She made a beeline, straight as
an arrow, for the old man's stand.

And Franz Biberkopf, noble in
his suffering, forced himself...

to wait in the background.

There he stood, backgrounded...

by the cigar shop,
by Schröder Import-Export,

from where he observed,

obscured by a light mist,
by streetcars and passers-by,

the progress of hostilities.

The heroes had come to blows,
figuratively speaking.

They probed each other,
searching for weak spots.

In peppery mood,
Lina Przybilla from Czernowitz,

sole legitimate daughter
of Stanislaus Przybilla,

after the premature births
of two half-developed babies,

both of whom
were to have been called Lina,

Miss Przybilla flung down
the journals vehemently.

The rest was lost
in the din of street traffic.

What a woman! What a woman!

a happily hampered Franz sighed
in admiration.

He approached the centre of
hostilities like a reserve force,

and outside Ernst Kümmerlich's
liquor shop,

the victorious, smiling heroine,

Miss Lina Przybilla, unkempt,
but delightful, greeted him,

screeching:
"I gave it to him, Franz!"

Then, in standing,
she sank to that part of his body...

she took to be his heart,

but which, beneath his woollen
undershirt, was his breastbone...

and the upper lobe of his left lung.

She was triumphant.

Now, O Immortality,
thou art mine!

What radiance unfolds!

Hail the Prince of Homburg,
victor in the battle of Fehrbellin!

Hail! (open parentheses)...

Ladies-in-waiting, officers, and
torches appear on the castle ramp.

(close parentheses)

Well, how was that?

Masterly, I tell you. Masterly.

When I do something,
I do it properly.

Well, I may not
have any work now, but...

I do have you, Lina.

Yes, Franz, you've got me.

And we'll find work, too.

- Give me my purse!
- What?

My purse!

Wait a second! I must have a pee.

Six thousand...

six hundred and
seventy-three thousand,

five hundred and eighty-two...

What was that?

You asked me how many people
are unemployed in Berlin.

- Yeah.
- Well, I found out:

673,582.

No, no: 673,583.

How do you work that out?

I said 673,582.

It's simple. You forgot me.

The latest figure is 673,583.

Got it?

You have to stick to the facts,
don't you?

Yes, but...

No "buts".

If there were 673,582 unemployed
in Berlin ten minutes ago,

there are 673,583
unemployed people in Berlin now.

If you say so, it must be right.

Exactly.

Listen, Lina!

You know what a layout girl is?

- A layout girl?
- Yeah.

A layout girl... she's...

I don't know.

A layout girl has to lay things out...

and check layouts and...

That's a layout girl.

No, Lina, that's not what I mean.

If I push you, and you're laid out
on the sofa, with me next to you,

then you're a layout girl,
and I'm a layout man.

Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?

Let's give ourselves a treat today.

Why today of all days?

Because yesterday's over and
tomorrow's not yet here. Understand?

I understand.

OK, then,

we'll go to The New World.

The New World?

Yeah, The New World
at the Hasenheide.

- Don't you know it?
- No.

So much the better.

What you don't know,
you have to find out about.

673, 583.

He is your master?

How proud that sounds.

True it is only
within certain bounds.

When one considers,
what are the grounds...

for a marriage
like that in Sicily?

Here stands the husband
outside the door.

There sits the boyfriend inside
with her,

quite without shame.
It's just the same...

in the finest of families.

In bed she lay till late,

then decked herself out in state.

There she sits looking grand,
with a rosary in her hand...

Ladies and gentlemen,
find out the truth from me!

Drink, my friend, drink!
Leave all your worries at home...

Yeah, that's what I'll do:

I'll leave my worries at home.

Cheers!

...talk of salvation;
talk of damnation:

the economy's not your concern.

The man is really a sucker.

At home in Berlin,
it wouldn't occur.

No man at home
would talk in that way.

Nor is his place in the kitchen,
we say.

And still he brings her
coffee in bed...

She just has to grind it.

That's all he said.

A man from Berlin is witty
and gay,

and he wears the trousers anyway.

That's why, so many years ago,

all the songs in Berlin changed,
and so...

we now sing:

Mother,
the man with the coke is here.

Just shut your trap!
I know that, my dear.

I've no cash, you've no cash.
What's to be done?

Whoever asked the coke man
to come?

Mother,
the man with the coke is here.

Just shut your trap!
I know that, my dear.

In the south,
a sunburn's for free on the whole.

But in Berlin you need
kale for the coal...

Yes, for the coal...

Encore! Encore! Encore!

So we sing:

Mother,
the man with the coke is here.

Just shut your trap!
I know that, my dear.

I've no cash, you've no cash.
What's to be done?

Who asked the man with the coke
to come?

Come on, Franz!

You don't come here to be sad.

People come here to be happy,

to dance...

and laugh.
Understand?

Yeah, but the...

the world...

What do you mean: "the world"?

This here's The New World.

Come on, let's have a drink!

Want to give it a try?
20 pfennigs.

A small price to find out
how strong you are.

For 20 pfennigs you can find out
if you're a man.

- Want to try?
- I don't know.

Ah, baloney! You're stronger
than all of them. Come on!

That's the one thing
a woman can't tell:

whether the man she loves is strong.

Two beers!

- Cheers!
- And what about me? Cheers!

- Cheers!
- Cheers!

- Prosit, prosit...
- ...to pros...titution!

Prosit, prosit...

to pro...sti...tution!

What do you say to that?

Pretty good. A loud voice, eh?

That's right. I've got a loud voice.

I've got a very, very loud voice.

Don't look so deep into my eyes!

Look at me!

Sure...

I'm looking at you.

What a woman dreams in spring:

all those foolish, wayward things...

Come here!

Come on!

Closer! That's right.

Are you a German man?

- Mmm.
- German to the core?

Yeah.

What's your name?

Franz... Franz Biberkopf.

Are you a German man?
Word of honour?

You're not with the Reds?

If you are, you're a traitor.

Anyone who's a traitor
is no friend of mine.

The Poles,

the French,

the fatherland
for which we shed our blood...

That's the nation's gratitude!

Say,
you're a real German, aren't you?

- Mmm.
- Through and through German?

- Yes.
- Yes, I saw it right away...

that you're a true German,

German to the core.
Where did you serve?

It doesn't matter where I served.

Today, I'm out of work.

Does it help me today
where I served?

You see.
That's the injustice of this world.

The German man is unemployed.
That's how things are.

Cheers!

You know what?

Because you're German,
German through and through,

and, because you're unemployed,

and because that's
the justice of this world,

and because
it shouldn't be that way,

I'm going to tell you something.
Do you know what?

- No.
- No. You couldn't know.

Listen!

I'm the Berlin representative...

of the Völkischer Beobachter.

Do you know what
the Völkischer Beobachter is?

- Well, I...
- Exactly. That's what I say:

it's the only newspaper
a sensible person can read today.

And because that's my opinion,
and because it's your opinion,

I'm going to give you a chance,
I am.

That's right. What I always say is:

Germany for the Germans again!
Am I right?

Cheers!

Cheers!

Pickled herring
in first-class spiced sauce!

Tender fish fillets!

Pickled herring
in fine spiced sauce!

Delicate fish with gherkins!

There!
That look's good, doesn't it?

Right. That looks good.

Is there anything else?

What do you mean?

Well,
the way you're looking at me...

No.

I was just considering
whether I'd forgotten something.

Oh, well, it'll be OK.

Good luck, then!

Thanks.

There!
I knew I'd forgotten something.

This is what I forgot.

Is that necessary?

I mean, do I really have to...?

What's the matter?

No need to be ashamed
of that armband.

On the contrary: it's an honour.

Well, if you think so...

Come here!
I'll put it on for you.

There!

That looks quite different.

There's something solid behind it.

Yeah?

- Maybe you're right.
- What do you mean, "maybe"?

It looks good, really good,

and it has an effect.

Well, good luck again!

Oh, well!

Völkischer Beobachter.

Read the Völkischer Beobachter.
Only 20 pfennigs.

Völkischer Beobachter.

There must be order in paradise.

Fine hot sausages!

- Hello!
- Hello!

New around here?

Yes.

Aha! The Völkischer Beobachter.

Those guys are supposed to be OK,

but...

I sense something else.
Against the Jews, aren't they?

Personally,
I've got nothing against the Jews.

But I am for law and order.

Everyone must see the need
for order.

Potsdamer Platz!

Potsdamer Platz!

Train to Krumme Lanke...

All aboard for Krumme Lanke!

To the German people
at the harvest festival!

Put an end to your illusions,

and punish those who deceive you!
Then the day will dawn...

when truth will rise
from the field of battle...

with the sword of justice
and shining shield...

to vanquish the foe.

Something wrong, buddy?

No. It's nothing.

I guess that's the way
it has to be:

everyone finds happiness according
to his own lights. And anyway,

that's how the times are...

I wish you lots of luck, buddy.

Pickled herring
in fine spiced sauce!

Tender fish fillets!

Pickled herring in spiced sauce!

I'm Jewish, you know,

but no hard feelings.

Good luck, anyway!

Thanks.

Hot dogs!

Hot dogs, gentlemen, hot sausages!

That's life!

Hot dogs!

Fine hot sausages! Hot sausages!

Hey, Dreske!

Fine hot sausages!

You can't just walk by like that.

You can at least say "hello."

Hey, that's Biberkopf.

Right. It's Franz Biberkopf.

With a swastika on his arm.

What's he doing wearing a swastika?

Pickled herring in spiced sauce.

Tender fish fillets!

Why are you looking at me
so dopily?

What do you mean?

We're just looking at you.

Oh, because of the swastika?

Because of the swastika?

Well, Franz,

the swastika is a swastika,
isn't it?

Sure.

A swastika is a swastika.

Federalism...

is anti-Semitism...

The struggle against the Jews...

is also the fight
for the sovereignty...

of Bavaria!

The struggle against the Jews...

is also the fight
for the sovereignty of Bavaria!

So you're making fun of me, Richard.

And why?

Just because you're married?

You're 27. Your wife's 18.

What have you seen of life?

Nothing. Less than nothing.

And the armband, Dreske:

take a good look at it...

There's nothing on it
a man can't answer for.

I got out, too, just like you,

but what happened afterwards?

Whether the band's red or gold,
or black, white and red,

it doesn't make
a cigar taste better.

It's the tobacco that counts,
my boy:

outer leaf, filler properly rolled
and dried, and where it's from.

That's what I say.
What did we do, Dreske?

Tell me that.

When I look at you, Franz,

all I can say is -
and I've known you a long time -

they've really pulled the wool
over your eyes.

- Because of the armband?
- And everything else.

Forget it!

You don't need
to run around like that.

That's right.
You don't need to, Franz.

Hold it, Richard!
You're a good guy,

but this here's something for men.

Having the right to vote doesn't
put you on a par with Dreske and me.

They've really conned you.

We had inflation,

paper money, millions, billions.

No meat, no butter. Nothing.

And us?

We just went around pinching
potatoes from the farmers.

Revolution?

Take down the flagpole,
wrap the flag in oilcloth...

and put it in the closet!

Let mother give you your slippers,

and take off your bright red tie!

All you do is yap about revolution,

but your republic's
nothing but a calamity.

A bee, a wasp,
a bumblebee circles the ceiling,

a natural wonder in winter.

Others of its tribe, species
and genus are dead,

either already dead
or not yet born.

This solitary bumblebee
is enduring the Ice Age,

not knowing how or why
it should happen to him.

But the sunshine...

is aeons old. Everything seems
ephemeral and trifling...

when one sees it.

Coming from X miles away,
shooting past star Y,

the sun shone millions of years
before Nebuchadnezzar,

before Adam and Eve,
before the ichthyosaurs

and now it shines
in the depths of a subway station.

Franz is sprightly, light, elated:
as light as air, from heaven I come.

We just didn't pull it off.

We might as well admit it

or you or whoever was in on it.

There was no discipline.
No one took the lead:

one guy against the next.

We were betrayed, Franz,

in 1918-1919 by the bigwigs.

They killed Rosa,
and Karl Liebknecht.

People should stick together
and do something.

Just look at Russia, Lenin...

They stick together.
It's a real bond.

Just you wait!

Blood must flow. Blood must flow.
Rivers of blood must flow.

I don't give a damn about that.

The world will go bust
with waiting, and you with it.

That's proof enough for me:

they haven't achieved anything.
That's enough for me.

Not the slightest thing
has been achieved.

I don't know what the guys with
these armbands will achieve,

but that's another matter,

and that's all that's important.

Hot dogs, hot sausages...!

Völkischer Beobachter!

Völkischer Beobachter!
Only 20 pfennigs...

- Is that a goldfinch?
- Mhmm.

- A she?
- That's right.

Well, what do you know?
Such a tiny creature!

And it doesn't mind
the racket here?

Well, what do you know?
Ain't that great?

I wonder if
the smoke's good for it...

with those little lungs?

It's used to that in here.

It's always smoky in the bar.
It's not so thick yet.

I won't smoke today,
so that it doesn't get too thick.

We can open the window later...

- without creating a draft.
- Yes.

Blood must flow. Blood must flow.
Rivers of blood must flow.

Good evening, Dreske!

F...f...five beers, Max,
and make it quick!

What kind of joint is this?

A bit quiet, isn't it?

No pianist?

Who for? It wouldn't pay.

You must know.

Then we'll sing without a piano!
We usually do.

Peoples, hear the signal!

Rise for the final fight!

The Internationale...

fights for human rights.

How did you like the song, buddy?

Me?

Fine!

You've got good voices!

You can sing along.

No, no. I'd rather eat.

When I've finished eating,
I'll sing along,

or I'll sing something on my own.

That's a promise.

Cheers!

There was a guy
who ate a sausage sandwich.

In his stomach,
it thought better of it.

It came back up again
and said:

"You forgot the mustard!"

Only then did it go down properly.

That's what a real
sausage sandwich does...

with a good pedigree.

Come on now!

OK, OK. Leave it to me!

How about it? Are you going
to sing something for us now?

Sure.

If I make a promise, I keep it.

It drips when you come into
the warm. Sniffing doesn't help.

Well, then...

What should I sing for them?

They don't know anything
about life,

but a promise is a promise.

I know a poem...

from a guy in prison,

a nice poem.

Should you want to be a man,
and live upon this earth...

as best you can,

before the moment of your birth...

by woman wise,
give it due consideration,

for the world's
a vale of lamentation!

First, Good Father State
will tend...

to keep you on a string
from start to end,

Tormenting you with special tools:
a maze of paragraphs and rules.

His first commandment reads:

"Pay up, whether old or young!"

The second law is:
"Hold your tongue!"

Existing in a twilight state,
bewilderment's your lifelong fate.

The years have left
their mark on you.

Moth-eaten hair bears witness, too.

Your frame begins
to crack and creak.

Your withering arms
and legs grow weak.

The porridge curdles in your head,

and ever thinner grows the thread.

In short, you see that autumn's here.
You breathe your last and disappear.

Yeah,

that was written
by a guy in prison.

It was a long time ago,
but I've remembered it.

It's good, isn't it?
Something for life,

but it's bitter.

Then just remember
that bit about the state:

"Good Father State,"

keeping you on a string.

Learning it by heart...

ain't enough.

By no means.

Well, they don't have oysters
and caviar any more than we do.

You have to earn your money.

It must be hard for a poor devil.

You can be happy you've got your legs
and you're outside.

You can earn your money
in different ways.

What about it, then?
Are you going to sing us a song?

You make a promise
and don't keep it.

OK, OK.

You'll get your song.

When I make a promise, I keep it.

There comes a call
like thunder's roar,

like clash of swords,
waves dashing on the shore...

...summoned by the drums to fight.

My comrade,
marching at my side,

advanced in step with me,

advanced in step with me.

A bullet came flying free,

meant for you or meant for me?

Him it struck, tore him away.

At my feet he lies this day,

as if a part of me,

as if a part of me.

I want to reach out to you

but as I load my carbine,

I can't extend my hand.

Stay then in the Promised Land,

good comrade mine,

good comrade mine,

good comrade mine.

Good comrade mine.

Get off the table!

There comes a call
like thunder's roar...

There wasn't a better friend...

...to the Rhine,
the German, German Rhine!

Guardians all we'd be of thine.

Rest easy, dear fatherland of mine!

Rest easy, dear fatherland of mine!

Strong and true stands the watch,

the watch on the Rhine.

Strong and true stands the watch,

the watch...

on the Rhine.

My God, there must be
other chairs in this place!

What did you eat?

I said there must be
other chairs in this place...

if you use your eyes.

That's not what we're talking about.

I want to know
what you've been eating.

Cheese sandwiches, you big ox!

There's the rind for you, you ass!

I can smell that
they were cheese sandwiches.

But where did they come from?

I won't have any brawling here.

No fighting in my bar!

If you can't keep the peace,
out you go!

Keep out of the way!

There won't be any fighting here!
We're just settling a score.

If anyone breaks anything,
he'll have to pay for it.

"I have surrendered..."

As long as they don't touch me...!

As long as they don't touch me!
I don't mind them

but there'll be trouble
if he lays a finger on me.

What kind of two-bit guy is this,
Dreske?

Franz! I beg you!

Let him speak!

Fascists are entitled to speak,

whatever they have to say.

They have freedom of speech here.

See what you've started
with your stuff and your songs!

No,

I'm not interfering.

There was never
anything like this here.

There comes a call
like thunder's roar...

Fascist! Butcher!

Hand over that armband!

And make it snappy!

Hand over the armband, I said!

Give me that armband!

I'll take it away from him.

Get out of here, Biberkopf!

I was just waiting for Lina.

I sit here every evening.

But this is the first time
I've seen these two guys here.

You're a Fascist!

The armband's in your pocket.

You're a Nazi!

I told Dreske why.

I explained it all to him.

But you don't understand.
That's why you're yelling.

You were yelling
"The Watch on the Rhine."

If you kick up a racket like this,
and sit on my table,

there'll never be peace
in the world:

not that way.

There must be peace in the world,
so we can work and live,

factory workers,
tradespeople and everyone,

and so that there's order. Otherwise,
we won't be able to work at all.

What will you loudmouths live on?

You're drunk with words!

All you can do is make trouble
and make others hateful,

till they really get malicious
and smash you one.

Would you let anyone
tread on your toes, you crooks?

You don't know what you're doing.

Knock the fancy ideas
out of your heads!

You're ruining the whole world.

Be careful...

that nothing happens to you,

you cutthroats, you heels!

I did time in Tegel.
It's a terrible life.

What a life!

The guy in my poem just now:
he knows how things were for me.

He knows exactly
how things were for me.

Ida! God!
Just don't think about it!

Just don't think about Ida!

You can't tell me about that.

There's nothing you can tell me!

Nothing at all.

No one can come here
and tell me about things,

none of you.
We all know that better.

We didn't lie out there
in the trenches...

so that you could come
and hound us, you agitators!

There must be peace!

Peace!

There has to be peace!

Peace, nothing but peace!

I'll do something,

grab someone by the throat!
No, no... I'm going to fall,

hit the ground.

I thought the world was at peace,
that there was order!

But there's something wrong
in the world.

There they stand. Terrible!

I sense it, and I see myself here.

In Paradise, there lived two people,

Adam and Eve.

And Paradise was
the glorious Garden of Eden,

where bird and beast played.

The cloud has passed.

Thank God, it's passed!

The timber magnates
insist on their warrant.

Krupp lets his pensioners starve.

One and a half million unemployed:

an increase of 226,000 in 15 days.

I'm going.

The pleasure was all mine.

I'm not responsible
for what goes on in your heads.

What I owe, I'll pay tomorrow, Max.

Sorry, Dreske, that something
like this had to come between us.

"Thee in victory wreath we hail.
Potatoes with a herring's tail."

"Let the despicable,
renegade scoundrels,

"encouraged by the bourgeoisie
and social chauvinists,

"disparage the constitution
of the soviets!

"It simply accelerates
and deepens the rift...

"between the revolutionary
workers of Europe...

"and the supporters
of Scheidemann and so on.

"The oppressed masses
are on our side."

What's the matter?

Did something happen?

Basically,
they're not like that at all.

They just don't know how to cope
with all that hot blood.

If they had been in Tegel
or had some experience behind them,

maybe it would dawn on them.

Lina!

Oh, Lina, I thought
you wouldn't come at all.

Lina, my little one,

you know...

I love you so.

What happened, Franz?

Something must have happened.

What should have happened?

What can have happened...

when I tell you I love you so?

What should have happened?

Ouch! Ouch!

It's OK, Franz.

Go ahead and do it, Franz!

A bite from you...

End of part 2, with:

Subtitles: Peter + Waltraut Green