All language subtitles for Angels with dirty wings (2009)

The main thing is that something happens.

No matter what.

WTP INTERNATIONAL PRESENTS

A FILM BY ROLAND REBER AND MIRA GITTNER

It's time.

Is it my turn now?

So it's me?

CINEMATOGRAPHY

EDITING

MUSIC

What should she do?

What are you?

I'm me. What else should I be?

That's a big word: Me

I am what I am.
- And what are you?

I know everything, to the dash and dot,
except one thing, that's me, me, me,

I know everything, to the dash and dot,

except one thing, that's me, me, me,

PRODUCTION ASSISTANTS

I know everything, to the dash and dot,
except one thing, that's me, me, me,

LINE PRODUCER

You are affected. You are vain.

You are conceited. You are ignorant.

You are self-satisfied. You are coquettish.

So what am I meant to do?

Be it.

ANGELS WITH DIRTY WINGS

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WRITTEN & DIRECTED BY

When am I vain? When am I coquettish?

Always.

As soon as a man is around
you start acting differently.

In what way?

Your walk. Your expression.

Just everything.

She who aims to make men fall for her
is already a fallen woman.

So what do I have to do?

Be what you are.

Only then will you be one of us.

And then the German armed forces
abandoned these barracks.

And you rented them?

No, we squatted them.

Come on, I'll show you.

EXILE PARADISE
ANGEL CLUB

"August 14th."

I was 19 then.

"I was in the woods with Stephan today,
and we talked a lot about elves.

He said we could see fairies and elves
in the clearing at full moon.

I though Stephan was cute
and wanted to kiss him.

But I didn't do it,
in case he thought I was trying

to ruin his relationship with Katrin.
- Ooh!

Did you manage to get him,
or did you just chase elves?

Of course I got him,

but I didn't write it in my diary.
- Why not?

So that no one could read it.

But who should read your diary?

I often showed it to people.

I thought people write diaries
just for themselves?

I did.

But I wanted to show it to people too.

But always prefaced with:

"You are the only person
I show my diary to."

Right?
- Yes.

But I wrote it for myself, as well.

Do you want to hear more?
- No.

I'll leave them here.
You can read them.

My life.

So you wrote the same letter to both of them?
- Yes.

Word for word?
- More or less.

What does that mean?
Yes or no?

The greeting was...
- But the content was identical?

I felt the same way about both of them.

Did they know each other?

They were best friends.
- Who didn't talk to each other?

Sure they did.
What are you trying to say?

So don't you think
they talked about your letters?

Yes... But I felt the same way
about both of them.

Besides, it was quicker that way.
- I see.

Welcome to the underworld.

Did you think up the text,
or did you copy it?

It was mine, partly.
Or things I'd read somewhere.

Or from letters you'd received.

How do you know that?
- I just know.

And you only did it with those two?

Well, no.

Love-recycling.
- I see.

I'll write it down, otherwise it'll get lost.

What's your problem? It's just
the way I felt. I think it's normal.

It depends what you consider normal.

So you told them all the same thing?

No.

Yes. That is...
- Yes,

or no? Is it so difficult?

You are...

You analyse my every word.

Anyway, I said it to most of them,
but not all of them.

So how many are we talking about?

Dozens or hundreds?

Maybe about 80.

80?

I can't put an exact number on it.

Alright, you write it all down,
and you dictate, nice and slowly.

"I never...

liked kissing anyone...

as much as I do you.

You have the...

most sexy cock...

I have...

ever seen.

I never felt...

as horny...

as I do with you.

I think I have fallen in love...

with you."

Got that?
- Yep.

Is that all?
- No.

I used more crude lines at the disco,
since you have to shout there.

The subtleties go out of the window.

And you get this as well.

When do I get my Spyder back?

When you've proven yourself.

Am I meant to walk in the meantime?

I know everything, to the dash and dot,
except one thing, that's me, me, me,

"July 11th." She was 20.

"I think Tobias is mega-cute.

His father is a doctor
and they have a great house.

He's still together with Margarete,
but I think she bores him.

I think my chances are quite good.

He studies History.
His specialist area is the Celts.

I have to buy a book about the Celts.
I'm sure he'll like that.

The things you do when you're in love!"

"Christmas." She was 22.

"Drove to my parents with Markus.

In the evening we walked in the forest
and I showed him the magical elf places.

But he left the next day.
I felt pretty stupid.

Who could I go to Mucki's party with?
Going alone is shit.

I'll have to call Andreas.
Maybe he's free.

I don't find him as attractive,
but that could change.

Or I could call Stephan.
He'd be really pleased."

"May 4th." She was 25.

"I met a great Latin American guy.
We kissed a lot.

Unfortunately, I forgot to ask him his name.
Shit!

He was so cute!

I went to the Salsa party in the hope
of seeing him again, but he wasn't there.

Instead, I met Juan.

He isn't as great as the nameless guy,
but he has mega-wicked tattoos.

He even has a dragon on his ass.

I think that's cool!

He calls me

his 'princess' and is in love with me.
I'm in love with him too."

Did she fuck her way
through the whole republic?

While chasing elves at the same time.

On the asses of Latin Americans.

Why do you think
she gave us this crap to read?

So we can learn more about her, she says.

I see.

I have one more entry.

A really good one.

"Easter." She was 23.

"I was at a peace camp
with the Anthroposophists.

We sung nice songs
and celebrated an Easter ritual,

with a floral altar
and the blessing of fruit.

I'm rooming with Christian,
who is gay, unfortunately,

Andrea, Birgit, Johannes and Marius,
in a very romantic wooden cabin.

Johannes really fancies Andrea. Shit.

And she has such a terrible figure!

I wanted to cuddle with Marius
but he was in bed with Chris.

In the end, I masturbated.
But it didn't work.

I took a stroll through the peace camp
and met a peace friend from Spain.

Mega-cute!

He thinks I have a good figure.
I think he's fallen in love with me."

Oh stop, please!

Reading broadens the mind.

I know everything, to the dash and dot,

except one thing, that's me, me, me,

The best spot is still beside our lake.

At least we don't get sunburn.

Sunshine is shit.

I hope you know me a bit better
after having read my diaries.

You might say that.

We now know

that you find men sexy
who will inherit big houses.

And Latin Americans.
- If...

they have dragons on their ass.

And that you fall in love with anything
that has something between its legs.

That no one should trust you,
and that you're dishonest

to everybody.
- Especially to yourself.

That you drop phrases like cow pats.

Don't my diaries tell you anything else?

Yes, they are badly written.

One sentence would have been enough.

And what would that be?

"I am a lying, horny slut."

So what do you think I should do?

Be a lying, horny slut.

I fuck, therefore I am.

It's always so lovely
to sit together like this.

I fuck, therefore I am,

I fuck anyone and everyone,

You call these horny pictures?

Yes.

You're such a country girl!

Then I'll get some new ones taken.

Where she comes from,
this is called 'pornography'.

Stand by what you are.
- How?

You shall know them by their actions.
- Not by their babble.

What if I don't know what I am?
- Then you're just a question mark.

Do you two know what you are?

We are angels...
who are forced to believe they are humans.

But I can't see any wings.

Stand by what you are,
and you'll get some too.

You can only see them at night,

so that humans don't cut them off.

That was a poor performance.

You want me to do ballet poses while fucking?

He's probably forgotten you already.

Where was the seduction?

What happened to the madness
you would drive him to?

So what am I supposed to do?

It was you who said you drive men crazy,
and that they're drawn to you like flies.

So where are they all?

Did you at least get his number?
- Yes.

Then call him and make a date to meet.

But then we want to see real madness.

If it'd been in a different atmosphere
I'd have got him.

Then fuck him in bed.
I'm quite sure he has one.

And you'll spy on me again with a telescope?
- No.

This time we'll use
more advanced technology.

Truth is a mirror.

All it can reflect is itself.

Most people look into this truth,

but they can't see it.

They don't want to see it.

Why not?

Because they've created
an image of themselves

which has nothing to do with reality.

They don't need the truth.
- I do.

As long as the fog of self-deception

lies between you and your mirror image,
you'll remain unknowing.

Look in your mirror.

What do you see?

A narcissistic, greedy little whore.

What should I do?

Be a whore.

A real whore? For money and all that?

A whore, that's all.

The world is a brothel.

Ole, we're off to the brothel in Barcelona!

Ole, ole!

Ole, we're off to the brothel in Barcelona!

Ole, ole!

Do you want another drink?

At first it was just a game at the lake.

But when I got home
I couldn't get you out of my head.

I couldn't get your face out of my head.

Your eyes are so deep and gentle,

I think I've fallen in love with you,

Love is a big word.

And I've only said it twice in my life.

Love is like a knife,

It can cut away all your worries and fears,

or it can stab you
and almost tear you apart.

You've had bad experiences.

I can see it in the way you look.
In your hurt, gentle eyes.

I simply don't dare get involved in anything

that goes beyond sexuality.

With you, I feel things
that I've never felt before.

I've never been so turned on by a man
as I am by you.

It's a horniness that goes beyond
the physical. A horniness for your soul.

You have the most sexy cock I have ever seen.

And even if you didn't have one,
I'd still be hot for you,

Because it is a soul-horniness,

I think we are soul mates,

When I kiss you...

When I kiss you it feels like
I'm drawing your soul into me.

As if our souls, which had to live apart
for so long, were united.

You'll only hurt me.

I know that, and I fear it.

Hurting you would mean hurting myself.

Look at me: Am I lying?

I can't tell,

I can understand that.

I always got used by people too.

I was always the victim,
but too dumb to realise it,

I'll tell you a secret
that I've never told anyone before.

I've never had an orgasm.

The first one was with you, at the lake.

I love you.

I...

I like you.

Very much.

Maybe even more than that.

Because of the money. Why else?

Just for the turn-on.

For the turn-on?

Don't you see
the turned-on looks they give me?

How hot they are for me?
- They're hot for anything with a hole.

I draw their power into myself.

When a man comes,
he gives up his sexual energy.

And I absorb that power.

Maybe your clients are different.

I only absorb their beer breath
and their slimy fingers.

So you never get turned on?

Never.

Too bad.

No.

Luckily.

I'd like to hold on to a bit of privacy.

Horniness is part of my private life.

I don't want to live it out here.

I see this as a part of me.
A part of my life.

Really?

For me, it would just be
a dirty piece of life.

And that's what makes me hot.

You have to keep pumping
until all the air is out.

When it's empty... we close the bottom
and put brake fluid in at the top.

Pump it until no more bubbles come out.
So there's no more air in the system.

Then put on the seal and the cap,
and tighten it up.

Then it should work.

It's maybe a lot to do with the media.
The youth let it wash over them.

There's less exchange of ideas,
less conversation. It's somehow getting lost.

When you just sit alone in your room
and let it all wash over you,

you grow isolated and get dumbed down.

That's actually the main reason
that we're together in our club.

To have an exchange, to talk and listen.
- Right. "Listening", as you said earlier.

It's becoming rare to meet people
who are able to listen,

who are really interested
in what you are saying.

I think that social skills
are developed in early childhood.

Children have to get together,
they need to play with one another.

In the passive generation that just sits
in front of the TV or computer,

social skills start to atrophy.

This is the difference
between a Harley Davidson...

Between American components and,
though I'm exaggerating a bit now,

Japanese junk.

When you get to know
other countries and people...

it's maybe something you've missed.

Rather than staying at your own level,
you take other experiences on board.

You have to judge for yourself
whether it's good or bad.

When things break,
you can just throw them in the trash.

With a Harley you can fix everything.

We don't go on holiday or travel
to represent our own culture,

but to get to know other cultures.

They're indestructible.

Is it true that you ride a Harley for 2 hours
then you have to tinker with it for 1 hour?

Yes, it's true to a certain extent. But...

you can easily ride for 3 hours
without having to tinker with it.

You can tell immediately
when you meet an open person

who's travelled and is well read.

You can also ride for 2 hours
and tinker for 1 1/2 hours.

Or someone who's constantly returned

to the same camp site in Bibione
for 40 years.

Or tinker for 3 hours and ride for 1/2 an hour.

Then you'll get to know things.

Or ride for 1 hour and tinker for 2 hours.

And when you get back
you have something to tell people.

It's great to see the Pyramids and stuff,

but when you talk to the locals,
it's a different thing.

Or ride for 2 hours and tinker for 2 hours.

Then you can put yourself in their shoes.

With a Harley engine you can always ride
more kilometres than with a Japanese one.

Harley Davidsons are legendary, a passion.

You either love Harleys or you hate them.

Or you tinker with them.
- Yes. But if so, then with passion.

I am glad you stayed
and didn't leave with the others.

Before, with the motorbikes,
it was just a game for me.

But you are a really special person.

I've never felt as horny as I do with you.

I'll tell you a secret...

I've never had an orgasm before.

The first time was just now, with you.

I think I've fallen in love with you.

I feel exactly the same way.

Imagine your life as a big, mighty river;
full of strength and energy.

And every inhibition, embarrassment,
or doubt is like a stone.

A stone that takes away the river's power,
that inhibits it.

Then mine flows at full power,
because I hardly have any inhibitions.

But you have morals.

I don't understand.

You are not pure.
Your actions aren't pure.

You gild everything
with a sugar coating of self-deception.

What do you mean by that?

You gave us your diaries to read.

Yes. Well?

It's a journal of a horny bitch,
inconsiderate to everyone and everything.

But always wrapped in the words:
"He's so cute...

I think I've fallen in love."
- So? That's how it is.

No. That's not "how it is".
It's morality.

Morality is the excuse of those
who don't dare to live out their truth.

But I do what I want!

You always stick contaminated explanations
onto pure deeds.

I don't understand.

Then learn to.

In your diaries
you wrote about that doctor's son.

Tobias.

Ah, yes. The "cute" Tobias.

What did you want? The house,
to be kept, and to live the good life.

What do you call it? "Love."

That's what it's called.

Live out your pleasure, but purely.
Desire a large house, but purely.

Deceive and swindle,
but don't deceive yourself.

And above all, never sully the word "love".

I thought I was supposed to cheat...
And men like hearing it.

Why do you get so upset about damned love?

If you want to achieve something, tell that
to your men. But never say it to yourself.

Otherwise...

Otherwise what?

Otherwise you'll never find it.

I don't need it.

Except as weapon to make the men hot...

and generous.

Without love,
we are empty husks in an empty world.

Have you found love?

If so, would I be so empty?

So you really enjoy it here?
- Yes.

Why?

Because that's how I am.

I am...

when I feel a dick going hard.

I am, when I feel
the horny looks directed at me.

I am, when I am being sullied.

You like being sullied, dirtied?

Dirt is life.

And I want to live.

I want to be at the bottom...

because that's where life is.

Above, you are only being lived.

Didn't you say you wanted to become an angel?
- Yes.

Angels always live down here,

because Heaven is empty.

In emptiness there is no lust.

And angels are pure lust.

Unadulterated.
Not contaminated by morals and norms.

Then I don't want to become an angel.
- Then what?

I want to stay human.

Don't you know
that humans are only castrated angels?

I know everything, to the dash and dot,
except one thing, that's me, me, me,

I know everything, to the dash and dot,
except one thing, that's me, me, me,

Can you give me
that sensitive guy's phone number?

Here you go.

Why do you need it?

So I can give him a proof of love.

I know everything, to the dash and dot,
except one thing, that's me, me, me,

You have the most sexy cock I have ever seen.

I should have known.

She talked about elves and angels.

And I...
- Do you know what angels are?

The girl in the VIP room
is certainly not one.

What makes you think that?

Don't you know that angels are survivors?

They are survivors.

After God had created the world he got bored.
And so did the angels.

And as he read his own commandments,
he got even more bored.

And so did the angels.

After he had bored a lot of angels to death,

the survivors fled

and now live among mankind.

They vowed

never to suffer boredom again,

and only to indulge in vice and pleasure.

And God still sits bored in his paradise
and sometimes wishes...

he could be an angel too.

Then he immediately feels ashamed,

and hopes the Pope never gets wind of it.

What are you?

A striptease artist...

who also works the VIP room.

A whore, in other words.

Or maybe an angel?

I'm not an angel.

And I don't want to be one.

But if it makes you horny, I'll say it:

I am a whore.

Was that okay?

Thank you.

What for?

For the truth.

Do you want...

even more...

truth?

Yes.

What do you see in my eyes?

Nothing.

Thank you.

What do you feel for me?

Nothing.

Thank you.

Thank you.

There, there, little goose,
don't be sad, it'll soon be all right,

The cat has a tail,
it'll soon be alright,

Heal, heal, bacon for the mouse,

in a hundred years it'll all be gone,

Can you say it one more time?

I don't feel anything for you.

And I don't see anything in your eyes
that I don't see in other clients' eyes.

You are one among many.

By tomorrow I'll have forgotten you.

Thank you.

Am I now me?

Or am I still just a copy?

Where could I have learned to feel?

I belong to the generation
that borrows its feelings.

During an orgasm, I am.

Or am I only what I imagine "being"
to really be?

What is real, for God's sake?

The world is a symbol...

which I cannot read.

I want to be easy-going.

But I feel like a question cast in lead.

Am I now me?

Do I exist at all?

Or was I just created as a copy
that will never see its original?

A copy doesn't know that it's a copy, right?

I don't give a fuck.

The main thing is: To live.

Whatever that might mean.

I think she has arrived, within herself.

I think so too.

So we should give the Spyder back to her.

I think she is one of us now.

She gazed into the mirror
and beheld her dark reflection.

Now she is an angel with dirty wings.

When will we get back together again?

Soon.

There are many waiting for us out there.

WRITTEN & DIRECTED BY

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EDITING

MUSIC
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