All language subtitles for Freuds.Last.Session.2023.EN

God the Creator...

I want once again
to be a prophet.

If the international
Finance-Jewry

inside and outside of Europe

should succeed in plunging

the peoples of the earth
once again into a world war,

the result will be not the
Bolshevization of earth,

and thus a Jewish victory,

but the annihilation of
the Jewish race in Europe.

Oh!

The doctor lives.

"The doctor lives."

Ja.

Just call him. Tell
him you can't come.

London'll be bedlam.

No one tells a man
like him anything.

But today is dangerous.

Stay here with me, and
we'll wait for news.

Bad news will find you anywhere.

Don't leave, Jack.

We've survived one war, Janie.

We will again.

Right, that's me.

Children's evacuation
train on platform one

will be leaving immediately.
All aboard now, please.

This is London.

There is still no
official response

to the prime
minister's ultimatum

that all troops be withdrawn.

We've just received confirmation

the Slovakian troops have
joined the German invasion.

We return to the BBC
Symphony Orchestra

until we can bring
you more news.

Uh...

I'm not going in.
I called institute.

The students expect you.

They will be fine
with a free period.

They'll need routine
today of all days.

I can take care of myself.

Dr. Schur will be here with
the morphine within the hour.

Or was that yesterday? Ja.

Also, uh,

an Oxford don is
coming here to see me,

who needs an education
in punctuality.

- Who's this?
- Huh?

- The Oxford don. Who is it?
- Professor Lewis.

C.S. Lewis.

- The Christian apologist?
- Ja.

He has a lot to apologize for.

Papa, I would like to
bring Dorothy back with me.

On a day like this, no
one should be alone.

We won't be alone.

I'm certain that Dorothy will be

more comfortable
in her own home.

And perhaps next week.

And then next week,
and next week.

How many times do
I have to ask you?

You remember Professor
Einstein's visit?

- Of course.
- Ja.

A discussion about the
true indication of insanity

as doing the same thing over
and over and over and over

and expecting different results.

So, the surest
indication of sanity

would be the ability
to change your mind.

Ja.

Professor Lewis?

Uh, yes?

- Anna Freud.
- Ah!

- Nice to meet you.
- And you.

Good luck.

Jofi, do you hear
someone at the door?

Jofi?

- Dr. Freud.
- Professor Lewis.

I'd given you up
for lost. Or dead.

What kind of a dog is he?

He's a Chow. He's
highly intelligent.

His name is Jofi, and he's
my personal assistant.

- Really?
- Yes, really.

Ja. He stays with me
through all my sessions.

He's also my
emotional barometer.

How so?

Well, if a patient is calm,

Jofi always stretches
out at my feet.

But if a patient is agitated,
Jofi stands at my side

and he never takes his
eyes away from the patient.

What shall I make of his
running away at the sight of me?

Well, he's also a fanatic
about punctuality.

Come in, please.

Fortunately, for her, my wife
is traveling with her cousin,

so I've sent out our
housekeeper, Paula.

Paula? She's gone.

I sent her out to stock up on
canned goods or canned food.

Or tinned, as you say here.

'Cause you must
always be prepared for

and expect the worst. Correct?

Yes, yes, of course.

Yes, I'm terribly sorry
for being so late.

All the trains were
filled with children

being evacuated to
the countryside.

Bless them.

Ja.

I take it you've been
listening to the radio.

Ja, ja. I always
listen to the radio.

I find it most
convenient to be warned

before getting bombed or shot.

I have several
engagements today,

so our meeting must be brief.

Ah. Well, perhaps
we should postpone.

Postpone? Postpone
until when? Tomorrow?

Do you count on your tomorrows,
Professor? 'Cause I do not.

- Of course.
- Of course. Ja.

You British always say,
"But of course, old chap."

I wonder why. What
does that mean?

I don't know. Habit, I suppose.

Ja. Interesting. Habit.

Ja.

Well, you have a wonderful home.

Thank you.

How long have you lived here?

Oh. One year and four months.

My daughter, Anna,
tried her best

to replicate our home in Vienna.

You also are not a
native of this country,

am I correct?

I was born in Belfast.

But I've been here since I
was sent to boarding school

at the age of nine.

Ja.

We all try so valiantly
to leave our past

and our childhood
memories, do we not?

But they will never
leave us, will they?

Ja.

Not the sorrows of the world.

Hmm.

Well, I'm afraid this will

never be my home.

No.

Never be my Vienna.

Ah!

The work of this man has
finally enabled us to discover

an unknown territory,
that of the human mind.

His work and research have
caught the world's attention

and have brought scientific
recognition to Austria.

It's my great privilege to award

the Goethe prize to
Dr. Sigmund Freud.

They've never given
the Goethe prize

to a psychoanalyst before.

They've never had psychoanalysts
in Germany before.

Here's my prize with
whom I am well-pleased.

Good...

Ja.

- Dr. Freud, are you all right?
- Ah!

Here is my prize with
whom I am well-pleased.

- My favorite flower... azalea.
- Oh.

Wait one moment.

Ja.

Ah!

Ja!

- Das ist gut.
- Thank you.

Since we have so little time,

we should talk about
why I wrote you.

Oh, yes, yes, my book,
Pilgrim's Regress.

Oh, yes. It was a
satirical parody based on,

uh, The Pilgrim's
Progress, was it not?

By... What's his name? Don't
tell me, don't tell me.

- John Bunyan, correct?
- Yes.

Ja. John Bunyan.

Now, he was a true genius.

Ja. And I think your satire
would've been quite splendid.

That is, if anyone
still reads John Bunyan.

It's my understanding that what
I have written offends you.

Offends me how?

Well, my satirizing you
with the Sigmund character.

Bombastic, vain, ignorant.

Oh.

Perhaps I was a
little overzealous.

I'm sorry if you took
it as a personal attack.

But I cannot apologize for
challenging your worldview

when it fully negates my own.

Which is?

That there is a God.

That a man doesn't
have to be an imbecile

to believe in him. And those
of us who do, are not suffering

from an obsessional neurosis.

Oh, really? Oh.

Well, most interesting. Good.

Interesting. See, I've
never read your book.

"As I wandered through the
wilderness of this world,

I lighted on a certain
place wherein I found a den,

and in that place, I
laid me down to sleep,

"and as I slept, I
dreamed a dream."

John Bunyan.

Ja. Professor Lewis, forgive
me, but I must ask you this.

Why would you come
here to see me

if you disagree so
passionately with my views?

Well, not all of them.

When I was a student, we
devoured your every book

to discover our
latent perversions.

I was shocked when I
read that you declared.

Pilgrim's Progress a work
of genius. Seriously?

A clash between God and Satan?

Ah. But I did not say
whose side I was on, did I?

You've always insisted

that the concept of
God is ludicrous.

- Yes.
- So, why do you care

what I think if you're satisfied
in your disbelief? Why...

Why am I here?

Why?

Uh, curiosity.

Why someone of your
supreme intellect

would suddenly abandon truth

and then

then embrace a ludicrous
dream, an insidious lie.

What if it isn't a lie? Hmm?

You ever considered how
terrifying it would be

to realize that you were wrong?

Ooh!

Not half as terrifying as it
would be for you, my friend.

No, no.

You said earlier that you
challenge my worldview.

You challenge my
belief in disbelief.

- Is that correct?
- I do, yes.

Good. Wunderbar.

Welcome to my den.

Oh. One moment.

Hello? Anna?

Have you frightened
off your professor yet?

Not yet.

Soon, perhaps.

You go back to your lectures.

- Das ist gut.
- All right.

Have a good day.

His daughter?

I don't pay tuition to
listen to her opinions.

She's not even a doctor.

Why should I waste my time
listening to her lecture?

You shouldn't,
Mr. Hensell. You're right.

You'll learn nothing.

I'm sure you know
all there is to know

about adolescent narcissism.

Did you speak to your
father about tonight?

You do know we are about
to be at war, don't you?

Well, that's
nothing new for him.

Never met anyone more bellicose.

- You used to find him charming.
- Did I?

I hardly remember.

Dorothy, be reasonable.

I'm in England,
aren't I? With you.

"Reasonable" would be

that we at least shared the
same roof. We did in Vienna.

Children don't even understand.

Didn't know your father had
such delicate sensibilities.

I have a lecture. Find me later.

I always do.

- Good morning, gentlemen.
- Good morning.

Shall we begin?

Sit, please.

Not there. That's the
transformation couch.

- You be careful.
- Of course.

A colleague of
mine, Erik Larson,

he telephoned me this morning

to tell me he knows a colleague
of yours, Mr. Tolkien.

Yes. Yes, we're close friends.

Oh. John Tolkien?

Mm.

Brilliant. Genius.

So, tell me, what
exactly are the Inklings?

That's what we call our
literary group at Oxford.

We discuss each other's work.

Mostly fantasies?

Often, yes.

I've spent most of my
life examining fantasies,

trying to make sense of dreams.

And yet, at my age, I don't...

I don't know what
I think anymore.

And given what little
time I have left

in this strange house,
perhaps I should start

by trying to make sense of
reality. Whatever that is.

Maybe it is all a
dream in the end.

Spooky, spooky, spooky.

Would you like a drink?

Ooh. No. Thank you.

Well, I'm going to have
one, 'cause I need one.

Ja.

Are you sure?

Whiskey.

Whiskey it is. Whiskey, ja.

- Thank you.
- Ja.

"All that we see or seem is
but a dream within a dream."

Edgar Allan Poe wrote that.

And he went mad,
so you be careful.

Ja.

Calm.

So, tell me, was it your parents

who injected you with
this fairy tale of faith?

No.

My faith ended
with my childhood.

I buried it with my mother.
She died when I was young.

Ah.

Go on.

My father was
consumed with grief,

unable to process it, or
to take ours into account.

His only solution was to
send us off to England

for boarding school.

It was perhaps my
life's greatest trauma.

More so than the war.

It was all sea and islands now.

A great continent had sunk,

like Atlantis.

Jack, can't wait
for you to see this.

On my next birthday,
my brother, Warren,

gave me the most wonderful
present I'd ever been given.

A new world.

A toy forest he created
in a biscuit tin.

I thought it was the most
beautiful thing I'd seen.

Moss, twigs, tiny
stones, flowers.

The moment I saw it,

it created a yearning...

I never felt before.

I called that feeling joy.

I still do.

Ja. And do you think that was

an inherent desire
for a creator?

- Yes.
- Ja.

You said you were led
to joy by a biscuit box.

Or a biscuit tin.
Is that correct?

Thank you.

- Ja.
- Yes.

Ah. Interesting.

Prost.

Yes, our deepest cravings are
never satisfied, are they?

Or even identified.

See, in German, it is
called "Sehnsucht."

Means "longing."

I experienced that
longing, that desire,

when I was a young boy.

The strong desire to
walk in the woods.

Sigmund!

Sigmund, stop pen!

Sigmund!

I was never frightened.

I was never sad that my father
had vanished or disappeared,

because finally I was
alone in the dark woods.

Those dark forests

to which I'd always been drawn.

Where I was most at peace with
myself and with the world.

Ja.

Ah.

Would that my father had
walked in the woods with me.

Thus your search for a
divine father figure.

If anything, it
made me determined

to avoid father figures.

A normal father-son
relationship.

A boy's love, worship and
adoration for the father

transformed into a recognition
of the father's imperfections

and into an even stronger desire

to displace and kill
the old bastard.

Right?

And your relationship
with your own father?

Ah...

Well, at best, it was a

bitter disappointment.

Same anger you feel toward
a God that does nothing.

The wish that God doesn't exist

can be just as powerful
as the belief he does.

Ah. Good.

Gas mask.

- I can't breathe in this.
- Come on!

- I can't go on.
- Well, I'm not leaving you.

- Don't be a fool.
- Give me your arm.

Let go of my arm. I'm all right.

- Come on.
- I'm all right!

All right.

Down to the cellar, please.

This way to the cellar.

Keep moving.

Keep moving. Down to
the cellar. Thank you.

Come on.

Professor Lewis?

Are you all right?

You were in the
war, ja? In the war?

- Infantry.
- Breathe in.

Deep breath in, ja?
Focus on me, ja.

Focus on me. Focus on me.

There. Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

That's good. Good.

False alarm. We're all clear.

Dare I say that you
look rather at home?

Ah. It's called
art appreciation.

For me, it is like studying
cave painting. Who is that?

God pronouncing to Joshua
that he's delivered Jericho,

prior to it happening.

Ja?

The story of the Good Samaritan.

And?

St. Roch and his leg.

- And his dog.
- Oh.

This?

I'm afraid I haven't a clue.

St. Brigid.

Patron saint of nuns.

- No, it is not St. Brigid.
- Who is it then?

Saint Dymphna. You
should know that.

Thank you, Father.

Return to
your homes. False alarm.

Apologies. There are no bombs.

What? I don't understand.

"Apologies. There are no bombs."

Ja?

What would he do if there
were? Send sympathy cards?

- Ja.

This is how we forget.

This defensive humor.

- I wrote a book on humor.
- Yes, yes, I read it.

We English take our
humor pretty seriously.

I find English humor

is like a foreign
language to me.

- Yes, I would agree.
- Ja.

Your examples were
somewhat clinical.

Jokes pinned down
like dead frogs.

And then dissected.

Are you saying my
methodology is flawed?

No, no, no, no, no. No.

Your jokes were.
They aren't funny.

But I used classic
illustrations.

Let me think. Uh... Oh, yes.

- Two Jews before a bathhouse.
- Ja.

One Jew says to the other,
"Have you taken a bath?"

And the other... He says...

He says...

What does he say?

"Why? Is one missing?"

That's right!

Ja, ja.

Meaning, to take a
bath, meaning bathing,

and, "Have you taken a
bath?" meaning stolen one.

Ja, it's an example of mimesis.

You know, conflicting. Our
thoughts conflicting action.

About as funny as a hanging.

What?

Come on.

I feel insulted. You
say I have no humor?

Hello?

Max?

How late?

That's quite severe.

Ja, I'm in terrible pain.

I'm in pain. I need medicine.

Max?

Ma...

Is there anything
I can do to help?

No, thank you.

With the destruction

of the entire Polish air
force by the Luftwaffe,

military and civilian casualties

are already estimated
to be over 20,000.

We return to our
musical program.

Switch it off.

Twenty-thousand killed
in just two days.

It's almost impossible
to take in, isn't it?

Must be more of God's
mysterious ways.

I wonder what your
Inklings would say to that?

Utter nonsense, Weldon.
There is no such thing.

It's a physical ailment.

I feel it every
time I step inside.

Library terrors? Stop yourself.

Doesn't anyone else feel
while entering a library

and it grips you

terror at the number
of unread books?

- No. No. Quite the reverse.
- Moving on.

- Who's reading?
- Well, I have a new chapter.

Ah.

Tolkien, then.

Chapter 48.

I move that we order
another round first.

A miracle. My brother is buying.

Warnie.

- Gentlemen, same again?
- Yes, please.

Tolkien, have you been
indoctrinating my brother again?

Me? No, never.

What about Weldon?

Ah.

- He's always been an atheist.
- He's a rabid one.

How could he, of any...

How could he, of anyone,

take the Bible literally?

It's a fictional anthology
of myths and legends.

Jack, when you read
myths about gods

that come to earth and
sacrifice themselves,

their stories move you,

so long as you read it
anywhere but the Bible.

That's nonsense,
and you know it.

Pagan myths are born through
God expressing himself.

But the myth of Christ,

that is God expressing
himself through himself.

And what makes it more
than myth is that...

Well, Christ actually
walked the earth among us.

His dying transforms
myth into truth.

And it transforms the lives of
all those who believe in him.

John, you're a scholar.

Don't you have an
obligation to the truth?

Yes. The same as you.

So, do your research.
Examine the evidence.

Which I did.

No book was safe,

from current scholarship
back 1,600 years,

starting with the
"Codex Sinaiticus,"

the oldest surviving manuscript
copy of the New Testament.

"Matthew, 400 A.D."

- Jack?
- Hmm?

Bedtime.

Good night.

What are you reading
that's so fascinating?

- The Bible?
- Yes. Have you read it?

It's been quoted at me.

It's often a weapon, isn't it?

The Creation.

Adam and Eve?

You don't really believe
all of that, do you?

That they were real?

I believe it doesn't
really matter what I think.

That's a relief,
'cause I'm sure it says

right there that man
should not be alone.

Come along.

Do what your good book says.

You're scaring me, Jack.

There's nothing to be scared of.

It's just a little
bit of homework.

I'm perfectly convinced that
whatever the gospels are,

they aren't myths.

They aren't... artistic enough.

They're clumsy.

Most of the life of Jesus

is left completely
unknown to us,

and writers building a legend?
Wouldn't allow that to happen.

You're convinced of
Christ's existence

because of bad storytelling?

Christ's existence isn't up
for debate, only who he was.

The man was chronicled
by his contemporaries

and historians. Even H.G. Wells,

whose skepticism
rivaled mine own,

admitted, here was a man.

This part of the tale could
not have been invented.

Ja, that Christ was
a man, I don't argue.

Like, Muhammad or Buddha.

I'm sorry. What was that?

I said I have no doubt
that Christ was a man,

like Muhammad or Buddha.

But only Christ claimed
to be the Messiah.

Oh, God.

He even claimed the power to
forgive sins. Absurd, isn't it?

Professor Lewis,
please help me up.

- Are you all right?
- Oh, yes.

Never felt better.

Danke. Ah!

Oh!

Oh, Professor Lewis,

perhaps you could help
me understand something.

It's a conundrum, a
puzzle that has kept me

terribly confused
for a long time.

Of course, yes.

Why should I take Christ's
claim to be God more seriously

than the numerous patients
I've treated over several years

who claim to be Christ?

I mean, please
enlighten me because,

in my humble scientific opinion,

those poor, wretched
patients of mine

were all raving lunatics.

So I must conclude that you
yourself and your friends,

and, yes, the good
carpenter of Nazareth

must all have been a little...

But this is only my
humble scientific opinion.

What do I know?

Ah.

Well, allow me to retort.

Did you find a single person

whose concept of reality
was otherwise sound?

No.

Hello?

Anna?

Ja. Thank you.

Chamberlain.

stating that unless we heard

from them by eleven o'clock,

that they were prepared at once

to withdraw their
troops from Poland,

a state of war would
exist between us.

I have to tell you now

that no such undertaking
has been received,

and that, consequently,

this country is at
war with Germany.

And so it begins.

Again.

It is evil things

that we shall be
fighting against.

- Brute force, bad faith...
- The talks broke down.

injustice, oppression
and persecution.

Against them, I am certain
that the right will prevail.

That is the end of the
prime minister's statement.

Anna?

You all right?

Thought we would be safe
when we left Vienna.

Well, we don't know how
Hitler will respond.

Leave the country now. Tomorrow.

Let me help you while
there's still time. Please.

- Where would I go?
- Come with me to London.

I don't know. I have
Anna to think of.

He will never leave Vienna.

And you will never leave him.

What about you?

Well, it's time, I'm
afraid. For the children.

Though, I have to admit, I'm
in agreement with your father.

New York does little
for me either.

What I wouldn't give to see you

on Madison Avenue,
in proper society.

Would you come to London?

Good evening.

Sigmund Freud?

Don't.

My name is, Dr. Ernest
Jones. I'm a British subject.

I'm a personal acquaintance
of Chancellor von Schuschnigg.

- Step aside.
- I'm Sigmund Freud.

- No. No, no.
- Anna!

- What?
- My father is a very sick man.

- What are you doing?
- Take me instead!

I know everything he does.
I'll be more helpful.

- All right then.
- Wait. Be quiet now.

If they take you,
nobody will be safe.

Here.

If there's no hope.

Miss Freud, shall we?

Ladies. Gentlemen.

Till we meet again.

Fire!

Ja, 12 hours we waited.

- I wonder why they let her go.
- I don't know.

Perhaps she wasn't useful
to them, to the Gestapo.

She's quite an innocent
person, you understand.

After she was released, I
bribed all the necessary people

to leave the
country immediately.

And I mean immediately,
'cause something had

taken me by the
throat and dragged me

so close to a personal
family tragedy,

that finally, I was awake.

I awoke when I
suddenly recognized

the face of the beast.

The monster.

History is littered
with monsters.

Oh, I agree, I agree.

And they all live
happily and contentedly

within each and every one of us.

Do they not? Ja.

The dybbuk. The beast
in the darkness.

And the bogeyman.
Oh, hush, hush, hush.

Here comes the bogeyman.

Don't get too close to him.
He'll catch you if he can.

But it is too late, my friend.

Because we've chosen to
live our precious lives

in the stifling smoke of
the burning of the books

and the smoldering
embers of our hate.

No, there's no...

There's no escape from
the beast, my friend,

because our moral
certainty is the beast.

We are the pestilence. We
are the famine and death.

We are the apocalypse.

Ja.

And at my exalted age,

I'm mightily grateful
that I shall not live

to see another Adolf Hitler.

Thank God.

I'm sorry. What did you say?

Oh...

Ah.

I was raised by a
strict Catholic nanny

who took me to
church every Sunday.

Saint Dymphna.

She was like a mother to me.

My father,

he was equally devout
in his beliefs.

What was that?

Leave me alone!

You must pray for your Father
so he can go to Heaven.

There is no Heaven.

- Not for you.
- Go!

Now!

Do not pray for
me! Ever! Sigmund!

Ja.

The battling bibles, ja?

"Let us love our neighbors
as we love ourselves."

I have here a paper signed by

the German chancellor,
Herr Hitler.

You just heard him on the radio,

your beloved prime
minister, Mr. Chamberlain.

Ja. He said exactly the
same thing last year,

just after the Munich
crisis. You remember that?

He'd told us all to go back to
our beds and sleep in peace?

Yes. Thank you, ja.

"Let it be understood, there
will be peace in our time." Ja.

Oh!

Oh, thank you, yes.

So, let us love our neighbors
as we love ourselves.

What a wonderfully
simple-minded,

imbecilic
impossibility that was.

Well, I wholeheartedly disagree.

Well, of course you disagree.
You have to disagree, don't you?

Otherwise, the entire structure
of your childish faith

would collapse into
rubble, would it not?

Just as the whole of Europe

is about to collapse
into rubble, ja?

What should we do now?

We should, you know,
turn the other cheek.

The Polish people welcome the
tanks and the Gestapo, yes.

And the planes as
they, of the Luftwaffe,

as they bomb their buildings

and they butcher their
children. Yes, why not?

Turn the other cheek. Please.

I don't know if
it's a coincidence,

but, it seems to me, I
think, that Jesus himself...

Yes, the good carpenter
of Nazareth commanded...

It says it here in the
good book, the Bible.

Matthew, chapter 18.

"Verily, I say unto you,

unless you become
as little children,

you shall not enter
the kingdom of Heaven."

Wonderful.

"Suffer little children
to come unto me."

It seems to me, Professor,
that we've never matured enough

to face the terror of
being alone in the dark.

But religion...

For one bright, shining moment,

religion made the
world our nursery,

a little playpen.

I have only two words
to offer humanity,

grow up.

Oral darn surgery.

Badly fitting prosthetic.

I'm always afraid that I might

sneeze out my teeth.

And I need my medicine.

It's this prosthesis.

Anna calls it "The Monster."

But...

I have to clean it, and then

call her to come
and readjust it.

When will your wife be home?

Anna's the only one
who can touch it.

- What, not even your doctors?
- No.

Not my doctors.

Especially not.

Papa.

Sigmund.

Sigmund!

Help! Help! Help!

If it wasn't for him,

most certainly I
would have died.

Ja.

I find a terrible humor in that.

Dr. Sigmund Freud, with
his oral obsession,

finally rendered speechless.

Now, that is a joke.

Can there be a better one?

Maybe not.

But if it was a joke,

who do you think made it?

Ah! You made a joke
yourself. Your first one.

Hello?

Dr. Schur.

Where are you?

Children aren't
necessarily afraid of war.

Instead of running away,

they might run toward it
with primitive excitement.

The real danger isn't that a
child might react with shock.

The real danger is that
the violence of the world

might meet the violence
inside the child.

It's your father.

Thank you.

Ja, Vater?

Dr. Schur's not coming.
He blames the traffic.

Can't get into town.

He says he'll call
my prescription

to a pharmaceutical
chemist shop.

And do you want me to come home?

Of course.

I want you here. That's
why I'm calling you.

It's just... Before,
you didn't say...

I'm in terrible pain.
I need medicine.

Papa...

Think of me for
once, instead of her.

Ja, Vater.

There is an emergency.

Can someone dismiss
my class, please?

Out of five scheduled lectures
in the last two weeks,

you've canceled two,

and today you're leaving
halfway through your third.

It's unavoidable. My father's
in great pain and he needs me.

As do we!

Surely, you can
bring in a nurse.

He doesn't want that.

With all respect,

does your father always
get everything he wants?

Doctor, you as much as anyone

know the importance
of my father's work,

beside his creating your
occupation and mine.

So, yes, he gets
anything he wants.

- If you've a problem with it...
- The problem is yours.

It's called an
attachment disorder.

Idolizing one's parents past
adolescence isn't a virtue.

It's a compulsion.

Well

thanks for the analysis.

Oh. So your daughter teaches.

Yes. She also had

a private psychoanalytical
practice for children.

At first, I was afraid that
by following in my footsteps,

Anna would leave
no mark of her own.

I hoped that was my
own narcissistic fear.

Oh, the tangled webs we weave

when first we
practice to deceive.

Yes, Anna's dedicated
to the science.

And to you, it seems.

Do you have a
photograph of your wife?

Of course. But not in here.

- Why? Are you married?
- No.

Oh. Do you live with someone?

A woman or a man?

I beg your pardon?

I said, do you live with
someone? A woman or a man?

Or does homosexuality
offend you? If so, why?

Homosexuality is not immoral.

Why so?

Moral sense in a man
is created by fear,

and that fear comes from

the castration complex.

- So women have nothing to fear?
- Precisely.

Without this fear,

these impulses
cannot be countered.

Then, how are they countered?

Through traditional
relationships

with husbands and fathers.

You are a walking contradiction.

Well, I'm human.

I'm inherently flawed.

And I'm deeply damaged.

And no doubt, I'm
damaging to others.

Anna?

You all right?

Yeah. It's nothing.

Tell me.

I'm worried about my father.

I have to find a chemist.

- Well, is your mother...
- She's away.

He has no one.

- There must be someone.
- Me.

Chemists are closing early
like other businesses.

- Let's make some calls first.
- I will find one on my way home.

Then we'll go together.

Absolutely not.

Bernbridge isn't
wrong, you know.

If your patients showed
this kind of codependency,

you'd diagnose 'em with
an attachment disorder.

This is my duty. Why
can't you see that?

Duty is not the same thing
as cringing servitude.

Dorothy, he is my father.

Yes.

And what else?

Doesn't smoking
aggravate your mouth?

Mm-hmm.

It does.

It aggravates everything.
'Cause I'm dying.

I'm rotting away. I'm
decaying. We're all dying,

rotting away and decaying.

But I'm determined

to relish and revel in the only
sexual pleasure left, right?

So, I bid farewell to thee,
my phallic and anal stage,

and I regress to thee, my
oral stage, whatever that is.

Extraordinary. We've
been talking this long,

and this is the
first mention of sex.

Bravo. Well observed. Yes.

But I think...

I think your definition
is far too narrow,

'cause I apply the term "sexual"
to all interactions that, uh,

bring pleasure, ja?

The infant sucking on
its mother's breast.

The great Sigmund Freud sucking
on the nipple of a cigar. Ja.

Sexuality is the font of
all happiness, my friend.

There's much more to
happiness than that.

Sex is only one of many
God-given pleasures and,

and, frankly, not
the most lasting.

Ah. Took you less than a
minute to bring God into sex.

Fascinating.

But despite your
church propaganda,

I think we made
considerable progress

uncovering and overcoming
our repressions today.

Progress?

We've gone from sex being
the subject never spoken of

to our not being able to
talk of anything else.

It's as if we invented it.

Well, perhaps we did. Ja.

Yes, psychoanalysis
is inherently sexual.

Oh, yes, we infantilize
it, turning it into the lie

that sex under any circumstances
is perfectly normal and healthy.

There is a sexual code

running through the
Old and New Testaments:

Sex is to be shared
between two people

who are committed to each other.

Well done. Good.

I think your Bible is a
bestiary of sexuality.

Ja, a bestiary. An
encyclopedia of it.

Help me tie these apron
strings, will you?

Ja, a bestiary.

Ja.

Where's my cigar? I left
a cigar somewhere. Um...

You know, it's interesting
because you good people,

you always pick and choose
those special Bible verses,

the ones that support
your own virtuous bias.

Isn't that correct?

Like, "No sex, please,
before marriage," ja?

It's ridiculous.

Not only naive, but I
think it's a mindless,

sadistic cruelty, really.

Like sending a young man to
perform his first concerto

with a great orchestra,

when he's only
played his piccolo

when alone in his bedroom.

Ja. Put these
things in the sink.

They aren't going to wash
themselves, are they?

I would have thought that
needing to depend on men

would cause women to
give up sex completely,

especially as you say
homosexuality isn't immoral.

Well, perhaps
lesbianism is different.

- How so?
- I don't know.

Perhaps unchecked, it becomes
progressively more unstable.

But not homosexuals?

No, their conditions
have a different source.

I don't understand.

What's the source of
a woman's lesbianism?

Her father.

And what about your father?

Ah! It's too late
to turn back now.

My father and I...

Now, there's an
interesting tale.

Uh, my father and I...

Uh,

made our peace before he died.

He was

a good man.

Ja?

What he couldn't
afford emotionally,

he made up for financially.

- He supported my life's work.
- Uh-huh.

Yes, and, well, I now live
with my, my brother, Warren.

Warnie, we call him.
We call him Warnie.

Just your brother?

It's complicated.

Yes, it usually is, isn't it?

- I told you I was in the war.
- No, you didn't tell me.

You showed me you
were in the war.

It's always going back
to the war, isn't it?

I don't know.

Ja.

Mm.

Jack, are you all right?

Steady.

Radio's out. We need
to move forward.

I suppose I should have
some starlet's pic.

It's just me mum.

If I still had my mom,
I'd probably do the same.

There goes dinner.

Lewis,

make me a promise.

If something happens to me,

take care of my mother.

And if anything happens to you,

I'll do the same
for your father.

That's an order.

So, how much of that
day do you remember?

Little to none. I was...

It was chaos from the outset.

It was my last
time over the bags.

Jack, are you all
right? Come on!

Paddy and I made it
into no-man's-land.

Jack!

Jack! Jack, we can't stay here!

Hel...

Help! Please help!

Help!

Please help!

- Lewis?
- Yes. He's over there.

Well, I was going to
take you out dancing.

I think we'll have to settle
for a picnic here instead.

Mrs. Moore?

I'm so sorry.

Right.

I can't tell you what
your visit means to me.

The letters you wrote to
me after Paddy's death,

they keep me close to him.

He carried this with him.

The shrapnel that killed him,

part of it is...
still in my chest.

It's too close to my
heart to remove it.

Now, Jack, um,

we need to talk about
something quite serious.

You told me about the promise

that you and Paddy
made to each other.

- Mm-hmm.
- It's a lovely gesture,

but... I don't need anyone
to be my guardian angel.

I might look ancient
to you, but...

No, you...

Quite the opposite.

The right reply.

Not to mention that I
don't believe in angels.

Or depending on
anyone but myself.

Let's not look at it
like a guardianship then.

Let's call it a friendship.

Agreed.

A friendship.

Your friend's mother.

- I made a promise.
- Hmm.

How long have you had
this relationship?

I wouldn't call
it a relationship.

Any bond between two
people is a relationship.

How old is she?

Mrs. Moore was in her early 40s.

Oh. Hmm.

Does Mrs. Moore
have a first name?

Janie. Ooh.

Tell me, did you find
Janie an attractive woman

- when you first met her?
- She was my friend's mother.

All the more reason to
find her more attractive.

Often, men who lose their
mothers at an early age

are drawn to more mature women.

I resent the implication,

and my personal life is
really not your concern.

- Oh, really?
- Mm.

But your conversion is.

It fascinates me.

Ja.

You lived with her, with Janie,

in your days as an atheist,

so I would like to know
whether your conversion

or your battle trauma

caused you a newfound virginity.

I won't discuss it any further.

My private life is
precisely that. Yes.

As you wish.

Hmm.

But I consider what people
tell me far less interesting

than what they choose
not to tell me.

Well, bully for you.

Let me.

Hello. Can I help you?

No one can today, I'm afraid.

Is Miss Freud in?

No, I'm afraid not. No. She's...

Who is it?

Oh, it's, it's Ernest, Sigmund.

Hi, Ernest.

Dr. Ernest Jones.

Jack Lewis. Pleasure.

I should leave you
to your doctor.

He's not my physician.

I'll take a walk around,
get some air. Yes.

That's good.

Take Jofi with you.

Come in.

Right.

Let's go into the garden
before it gets dark.

Autumn evenings
are drawing in now.

Yes. Thank you.

There we go.

So, Ernest, to what
do I owe the honor?

I've been told about a

a first-rate
psychoanalytic facility

being established in
a town called Bury.

It's near Manchester.

It's going to be a
teaching hospital.

You don't... You don't
expect me to travel

in my condition, do you?

- No. No, no.
- Oh.

I was thinking about Anna.

Oh, ja?

- They'd love to have her.
- Huh.

- She'd be safer there.
- Ja.

That's one thing.

What's the other?

Well, they've asked me
to join the faculty.

Oh, ja?

Ah.

Are you seeking a professional
relationship with Anna,

or is it a personal one?

Well, that would be Anna's
choice, don't you think?

What do you think?

Please. My father's
having a medical crisis.

He needs help immediately.

Sorry, the pharmacist
has left for today.

Can you call him back? My
father's Dr. Sigmund Freud.

The sex doc?

Good luck to both of
you. I'm sorry, ma'am.

Has Anna given
you any indication

that she would be interested
in a relationship?

No, I've, I've spent

very little time
with her socially.

- Ja?
- I just think she would

only benefit from a

a wider circle of professional
and personal acquaintances.

Besides myself?

Well, no, I... I
didn't mean to imply...

No, of course not.

Well, perhaps we could

talk again when you've
had some time to think.

That's not necessary.

I can speak with her then?

No.

- Can I ask why?
- Yes.

Anna and I have an understanding

that she will not
consider any relationship

until we both feel
it is suitable.

You're 20 years older than
Anna, she's still a young girl.

She's far too
young to experience

any sexual feelings. That's why.

Sigmund.

What?

- What are you saying?
- Huh?

What are you...

What are you saying, Sigmund?

Anna spent years in
treatment for, for a complex.

A complex which proves

she is capable of
normal sexual behavior.

I don't want to talk about it.

A complex that most often stems

from an unhealthy
paternal attachment.

I don't want to talk about it!

I don't want to
talk about anything!

Go!

That was 20 years ago.

Please wait here.

Dr. Schur.

It's Anna Freud.

I need your help.

- Anna.
- All the chemists are closed.

I had nowhere else to go.
He needs his medicine.

Come in.

Thank you.

Dorothy. Perhaps next week.

Thank you, Dr. Freud.

Don't.

What could I possibly ask?

My therapy sessions
are mine alone.

Find your own therapist.

You do look a bit flushed.

I wonder what you
could've talked about.

Must be convenient to live
upstairs from your therapist.

And I could say the same
of you, having me so close.

Very convenient.

But I do wonder what
could have aroused

such a physical response.

Everything to do with
you and nothing at all.

So then he knows.

He knows.

Sophie, look how he's walking.

Sophie, look at him walking.

She's going to catch you.

Let's try it one more time.

Oh, yeah, those can fly.

Yes.

Huh. He's inescapable.

This way, Jofi.

- Has Jofi finished walking you?
- Yes.

We saw the notice
for your lecture.

Postponed indefinitely.

Come on. Komm zu Papa.

Jofi.

Sorry. I thought he'd...

No, it's, my mouth, you
see. Ja, I have oral cancer,

and the smell of
decay is not so good.

Ja.

No, he did not
run away from you.

He ran away from me. He ran
away from the stench of death.

I'm afraid I'm no
longer his best friend.

This is life. This is life.

Ja.

Hey! I want to
show you something!

Give me a hand. Thank you.

I want to show you Momus. Ja.

- Do you know Momus?
- Momus? No.

Momus is a god.

The Greek god who chastised
all the other gods of Olympus.

He laughed at them, mocked 'em

for their absurd,
their stupidity.

For creating us, for
creating humanity.

So they banished him.

They banished Momus
to live with us.

To live with humanity.

- Ja.
- Familiar theme.

Ja.

He became the sad god.

The god of satire and irony.

Such as this? Look at this.

What would you call a
confirmed nonbeliever

whose desk, whose
den is guarded by

- a myriad of gods and goddesses?
- A collector. That's what I am.

I'm a collector. That is
the sad irony of my life.

I am a passionate disbeliever

who is obsessed with
belief and worship.

Ancient beliefs and
worship, yours included. Ja.

Hmm. All sharing
similar concepts.

Right and wrong, good and
evil, choice between them.

- Ja.
- Yeah.

Ja.

I need more handkerchiefs.

Are you all right?

So, what were we saying? Yes...

Yes, the good is to be chosen.

And your God, who created
good, or whatever that is,

He must also have created
the bad and the evil.

Ja?

He allowed Lucifer to
live. He let him flourish.

But, logically, he should
have destroyed him.

Am I correct?

Think about it.

God gave Lucifer free will,

which is the only thing that
makes goodness possible.

A world filled with
choice less creatures

is a world of machines.

It's men, not God,

who created prisons
and slavery and

bombs.

Man's suffering is
the fault of man.

What?

Man's suffering is
the fault of man!

Ja, I hear you, I'm not deaf.

So is that your excuse

and explanation for
pain and suffering?

I mean, did I bring
about my own cancer?

Or is killing me God's
revenge for my disbelief?

- Tell me.
- I don't know. I don't know.

You don't know?

Professor Lewis, I am
shocked. I am shocked.

I don't know and I don't
even pretend to. It's...

It's the most difficult
question of all, isn't it?

If God is good, then he'd
make all of his creatures

perfectly happy. But
we're not. We're not.

So, God...

God lacks goodness.

Or power.

Or both. I don't know.

You don't know.

Well, finally, finally, finally.

We're making progress.

What if God wants to perfect
us through suffering?

Make us realize that happiness,

real happiness,
eternal happiness,

can only come through him.

If... If pleasure
is his whisper,

pain is his megaphone.

Oh, ja.

Yes.

Well, I'm sure that

the cherubic little
altar boy, Adolf Hitler,

who served in his church
every Sunday morning,

I'm sure he'd agree with
you. Ja. Absolutely. Totally.

I'm afraid I cannot
agree with you.

We speak different languages.

You know, you believe
in revelation. Fine.

I believe in science and
the authority of reason.

There's no common ground.

There is also the
dictatorship of pride.

Why does religion
make room for science,

but science refuses to
make room for religion?

Oh, please. You're
breaking my heart.

How capacious and comfortable

was Galileo's soul
when he told the Pope

that the sun does not
move around the world,

but the other way?

The stupidity of church
leaders is an easy target.

Precisely! 'Cause they hide
behind their ignorance.

You hide behind your
ignorance! I hide behind mine!

We all do from
time to time. So...

'Cause we're human.

'Cause we have lost our nerve

and our confidence in ourselves.

How often do we say to
ourselves, "God is a mystery.

He... We are small,
he is mighty.

It is written by God.
It is God's plan."

Ja, I'll show you something.

God's plan.

That was...

That was my daughter.

Sophie.

She... She was the
apple of my eye.

And she died from
the Spanish influenza

at 27-years-old.

She was a mother.

And a wife.

And my little grandson.

He was plucked from us.

Killed by tuberculosis
at the age of five.

Five years.

Ja.

What a wonderful plan for God

to kill a little boy.

I'll tell you something.

I wish that cancer had
eaten into my brain

instead of my cheek and my jaw,

so that I could hallucinate God

and seek my bloody
vengeance on him.

Bloody hypocrites!

There's so much
pain in this world.

And that is God's plan?

It's the same fantasy
I always have.

We are on horseback.

His family hates mine.

He's avenging them.

I cannot escape.

The knight is coming
closer. Closer.

Then he kisses me

everywhere I am bleeding.

His face to mine.

His lips near my lips,

red and dripping.

He whispers...

"Tell me your family secrets."

How advanced is your cancer?

It is inoperable.

And it's only a matter of time.

How much time?

That is for me to decide.

Dr. Schur and I have a pact.

And don't you look at me
like that, Professor Lewis.

I know what you people think
of suicide, that it is wrong,

and it is a sin.

- It is.
- Ja.

Look in there.

You see, hell's already arrived.

- Have you told your wife?
- No.

She shares your superstitions.

Anna?

Anna? No, she knows
I'm going to die, ja.

That you're planning
to kill yourself?

No. Why should I cause her pain?

You're protecting her,

or you're afraid she'd
talk you out of it?

You really are
persistent, aren't you?

A true convert, like
a reformed alcoholic.

You have any more questions?

'Cause I'm tired.

Yes,

actually.

It's all right.

- Is Anna married?
- No.

I'm surprised.

It is not an easy task for any
of us to choose the right mate.

You mean for Anna to choose.

Do you have a question
for me, Professor Lewis?

Dr. Jones today...

Dr. Ernest Jones?

Yes. He asked to
see Anna, not you.

He did?

Yes.

But why would she need a mate

when she has all the
stimulation she needs?

- Do you have a question for me?
- Yes, is she seeing someone?

Man, woman, both?

Since we're
intrinsically bisexual.

With her teaching
and her practice,

she has no time
for relationships.

Except for you.

Well, you're very fortunate.

Especially, considering
she's the only person

that you'll permit
to touch your mouth.

She's a professional.

A physician?

I told you, she's a member of
the Psychoanalytic Society.

Don't members need
to be doctors?

Well, there's special cases.

He takes my hand,

makes me touch him.

There,

and there.

Anna presented a paper that
was very well-received.

It must've been.
What was the subject?

Hmm?

Sadomasochistic fantasies.

I escape, but the
knight is too strong.

He catches me.

I tell him to punish me.

Only now I am a boy.

These fantasies,

were they based on Anna's
patients' treatments?

Based on her own analysis.

And who was her analyst?

Hmm?

I asked, who was her analyst?

I was.

The knight takes
the boy in his arms.

No.

Please.

No more knight. You're
not a boy or a girl.

You're my daughter. My
daughter. Do you understand?

- Why?
- We must stop this.

It's too painful
for you and for me.

I cannot help you with this.

You would send me to
someone less than you?

- No, I cannot help you...
- Papa, I need you.

- Stay calm. No.
- I need you. I need you!

Anna, you do not need me.

- Listen...
- Please.

- I need you!
- Please.

I need you.

Please.

Yes, all is well.

There.

Good.

Das ist gut.

That's my girl.

Good.

I need your help.

All is well.

Do you have any more questions?

Oh, yes.

But I won't presume to ask them.

I'll only remind you of
your earlier observations

that psychoanalysis
is inherently sexual,

and what people say is less
important than what they cannot.

You do that every
time, you know?

I'm waiting for the
next news broadcast.

Why not just turn the
music down? Why off?

Because I object to
being manipulated.

All music sounds like church
music to me. That's why.

My objection to church music

is that it trivializes the
emotions I already feel.

I think that you're afraid
to feel them at all.

Wow.

Is that your final
diagnosis? Fascinating.

Not all of it. No.

I also think that
you're terribly selfish,

putting your own pain above
the pain of those who love you.

You lie to yourself,

thinking that you
can control death

the way you control your
world and your daughter.

You believe that you can

out think your fear

by hiding behind your
desk in your den of gods.

But

truth is, you're terrified.

Understandably. But
terrified, nonetheless.

Ja.

We're all terrified.

Ja.

You... Earlier this afternoon

when the air raid
warning sounded,

do you remember the siren? Ha!

You most certainly did
not behave like a man

who took great comfort
in his last days

in this terrible,
terrible world, did you?

Ja, so where was
your great faith?

Where was your precious joy of
meeting your beloved Creator?

Disappeared.

Why?

Because you know, beyond all
your self-protective lies

and your fairy tales,

that he does not exist.

Ja.

You see, you bury your doubts.

You bury your
memories of the war.

But at the core of your being

you are a coward.

We're all cowards

before death.

Oh, God...

- Oh, God.
- I'll phone a doctor.

No. No hospital. No doctors.

- Just get some towels.
- Towels? Yes. Yes.

Uh...

Get this damn thing out. Here.

It's the prosthesis. Get it out.

- Just...
- I...

- Put your fingers in. Ja.
- I...

- Ja.
- It's not coming.

Ah, just pull.

It's...

I've got it.

- Oh, God. Get some water.
- Yes.

Look at that.

Oh.

- Would you like to lie down?
- Ja, danke. Ja.

Well, "The Monster" nearly won.

Little bastard.

Damn it all.

What can I do?

Just go.

No. I'll stay with you
until someone comes.

I want you to go, please.

- Don't talk.
- You'd like that, wouldn't you?

No more talk.

Oh, my God.

Bombers.

Ah...

Transport planes. Ours.

Oh. I was afraid.

So was I.

What were we thinking?

It was madness to
think we could solve

the greatest
mystery of all time.

There's a greater madness:
Not to think of it at all.

Ah.

I'll call you a taxi.

No, no, no, please.

I'd rather walk to the station.

Get some air.

Is that the same statue
we saw in the church?

Ja.

You have a Catholic
saint on your shelf.

Yes, Saint Dymphna of Ireland.

She was the patron saint
of the mad and the lost.

Makes sense.

Well, there's a train
back to Oxford in an hour.

Good.

Yes.

Well, I'm terribly sorry
to have disappointed you.

No, no. The offense was mine.

I didn't say offended, I
said I disappointed you.

My idea of God, it
constantly changes.

He shatters it again and again.

But still I, I feel the
world is crowded with him.

He's everywhere, incognito.

And his incognito is so
very hard to penetrate.

The real struggle
is to keep trying.

To come awake.

Stay awake.

One of us is the fool.

If you're right, you will
be able to tell me so.

But if I'm right, no
one will ever know.

Give me a hand up.

Of course, yes.

Oh!

Ja.

Death is as unfair as life.

Goodbye, Professor Lewis.

We will meet again, perhaps.

God willing.

Before you go, I want
to give you something.

I have a book for you.

Thank you.

Right.

Don't open till Christmas.

Good.

Well, my friend,
auf Wiedersehen.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

His Majesty, King George,

speaking from Buckingham Palace.

We now return to the
BBC Symphony Orchestra.

Professor!

- Miss Freud?
- I hurried.

- You okay?
- I have his medicine.

He's waiting for you,
but he's fine, really.

No need to worry.

I'm so glad you were here.

It looks like you
survived your visit.

"In the fell clutch
of circumstance,

I have not winced,
nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings
of chance,

my head is bloody, but unbowed."

"Beyond this place
of wrath and tears,

looms but the
Horror of the shade.

And yet the menace of the years

finds and shall
find me unafraid."

Well, cheers to us both.

I have to go. He's
waiting for me.

Anna.

I'm sorry.

Are you sure we should do this?

From error to error one
discovers the entire truth.