All language subtitles for De man die zijn haar kort liet knippen 1965

THE MAN
WHO HAD HIS HAIR CUT SHORT

Fran.

Fran.

Today

Fran is leaving school.

For good.

I have to tell her.

Fran.

Fran.

Govert?

It's time. Otherwise you'll be late
for the festivities at school.

Right, Corra.

Do you want Cathy to bring your tea?
- Yes, please.

Cathy, you can take Daddy his tea.

Can I have the second lump?

Daddy!

Cathy?
- Coming.

Here's your blue suit.
Your white shirt is in the bathroom.

No, I'd rather have my casual suit.
- Casual suit? For something like that?

It'll be hot there with all those people
and the sun on the windows.

If you think it's OK.

Shall I take you?
I've got to go shopping.

No, I'll walk.

Does, Cathy
don't make so much noise.

Govert, Regiks phoned again
while you were resting.

He apologised for phoning
on a Saturday afternoon.

But he obviously can't sit still.
I made an appointment with him for you.

Monday, between 9 and 10.

He wants to add another document
to the file.

He said it contains nothing new
but is proof of his good faith.

Children. Be quiet, please.

To be honest,
I'm not so sure about this Regiks.

They need to be eaten today.
- Govert.

Or they'll have gone off
by tomorrow.

Fran,
I feel as if I've always known you.

How can I tell you

what you mean to me?

How?

I can't see you

until I know how to tell you.

A shave or a haircut, Mr Miereveld?
- Haircut. Cut it shorter.

People like you, who use their head,
should have it looked after.

Piano players do the same with their
fingers and cyclists with their calves.

I like it short. It feels refreshing
in the wind and rain.

You're right there.

It calms me down.

My wife, who's a typist,
has tablets for that.

But she says I help best,
with a shampoo and my fingers.

Yes, you're right.

My doctor is always talking about
nerves and prescribing tablets.

I prefer natural remedies.

With all respect for doctors,
the work of a barber is also an art.

We're closer to the people, skin
against skin, if I can put it like that.

Skin against skin? That is well put.

This vibromassage device may
just look like a lump of rubber,

but it is the most ingenious barber's
thumb, with which we guarantee

to reach and vibrate the main nerve of
the body in a beneficial way.

Feel. It's like a shower,
first almost cold or hot,

and afterwards you feel wonderful.

Wonderful.

Hello, Mr Miereveld.
The ceremony has just started.

The book you wanted is waiting for you.
Can you come and get it later?

That's kind of you.
- Or shall I bring it to you?

No, I'll come and get it myself.

After the actual presentation of
the diplomas at half past six,

at half past six,
you can visit the classrooms

where the classes have exhibited
the work they have done during the year.

You then come back to this hall
via the bazaar.

To this hall, where at 8 o'clock,
8 o'clock, the performance will start

that the final-year pupils
have organised for you.

The bazaar will stay open
until 10 o'clock. Until 10 o'clock.

Thank you for your kind attention.

Good evening. How are things?

As alderman for education, I once again
have the honour of presiding over

this ceremony, that is also
a celebration, and declaring it open.

I say have the honour because
I regard it as a privilege and a joy.

I know of nothing more wonderful
than school,

which you shouldn't be surprised to
hear from a man involved in politics.

School is one of our finest conquests

along the path of the hard emancipation
of man.

Hence the emotion with which I once
again want to celebrate it with you.

And, this festive emotion moves me
to first thank you,

thank you sincerely,
for your warm attendance.

The education you have received
you will, in turn, now pass on

and so the real battle of life
is starting for you too.

What you learned here,
love for children, for people ...

Love for children, for people and
for the community.

Then we come to
Napoleon and Victor Hugo.

If you falter, remember what, I think,
Victor Hugo said.

There, Les Misérables.

He asked me to take over his lessons
at school and I said yes.

Without hesitation.

You called me, Fran.

You will spread education.

I stuttered just now.

Remember that I'm only an ordinary lad
and a political fighter.

And even if I stutter,
I know what I am saying.

You are taking on, you are accepting
a hard, difficult task.

A glorious battle awaits you.
Thank you.

Alderman, ladies and gentlemen,
dear colleagues and pupils,

I'd like to warmly thank our alderman
on behalf of us all

for his inspired and inspiring speech.

Thanks to him our school does indeed
owe a lot to the authorities.

I'd just like to add, those who didn't
come don't know what they're missing

and now to the order of the day,

that everyone here
has anxiously been waiting for:

the presentation of their diplomas
to our school-leavers.

I'd like to ask our secretary,
Miss Freken, to assist me with this.

Distinction:

Elizabeta Nieuwhuizen.

Well done, Beps.
Well done, Beps.

Congratulations, Miss Nieuwhuizen.
- Thank you.

Sorry.
- Thank you.

Well done, Beps.
Well done, Beps.

Honours:
Elisa Van der Zwalm.

Well done, Liesje.
Well done, Liesje.

Congratulations, Miss.
Congratulations.

Well done, Liesje.
Well done, Liesje.

Eufrazia Veenman.

Congratulations,
Miss Veenman.

Look at me, Fran.
Please.

Fran, look at me.

Now.

Now.

It's our last day, Fran.

You know it is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this celebration
isn't just a celebration,

it is also a farewell.
Yes, a sad farewell.

May I ask our estimable colleague
Judge Brantink to join me?

Yes, Alderman, ladies and gentlemen,
dear colleagues and pupils,

at first we couldn't believe it.

After working together for
so many years it seemed impossible,

but facts are facts.
Judge Brantink is leaving the school.

Judge Brantink,
our gratitude is that much greater

because you have
personally recommended

Mr Miereveld as your successor.

On behalf of us all, thank you.

Thank you.

May I open it?
- Of course.

You really shouldn't have.

Maybe you've forgotten, but
I was a specially appointed teacher

not a special teacher.

I am so moved and grateful

that I cannot find the words
to tell you how grateful I am.

I know that, thanks to Mr Miereveld,
you will quickly forget me.

I will never forget you.

I wish you all, dear friends,
and you too, Mr Miereveld,

the very best.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Fran.

Fran.

Look at me, Fran.
Please, look at me, now.

Now. It's our last day, Fran.

You know it is,
you know how much I love you.

Fran. Fran.

Are you coming to the exhibition?
- No, I've got to go upstairs.

You look young in that light suit.
- I'll be right there.

Liesje, where are the others?
- They're getting changed.

Where?
- In the classroom.

Show me which one.

That one. The second classroom.
- Thank you, Liesje.

No one is allowed in. The girls
are getting ready for the performance.

I just wanted to buy them a ...
- I'll tell them.

Sorry.

Mr Miereveld?

Mr Miereveld?

Yes?

Oh, it's you.

Job done. I've got the book.
- Oh, right.

Thank you. Sorry.
I felt a bit hot.

That's understandable.
Aren't you going to the performance?

Yes, I'm just coming.
- See you later.

What is there to be found
in a class of girls?

But is it like that or not?

Is there any prospect of love,

Even if it were never to succeed?

This is still the song about
the seven, seven, seven,

about seven girls,
together in a class for four years.

School is over, they are leaving,
life starts now, as they say.

Starts now, as they say.

But is it like that or not?
Is there any prospect ...

Can I help you, Mr Miereveld?
- No, thank you. I won't disturb you.

Hurry. Hurry. I'm late.

There.

That was the song about the seven girls

but now Franny Veenman will sing
The Ballade of Real Life.

They nod, say amen,
you call them by their names.

But you don't know them, you don't
affect them, you don't see them.

What today is, no one may know,
what will come tomorrow may be better.

What will come tomorrow
may be worse.

What used to be,
no one knows any more.

Three kings on the Scheldt

embarked for me.

Three kings on the Scheldt

perished for me.

Two drifted with the Scheldt

to clouds across the sea.

What is the point of this life?

Where does this life lead?

To clouds across the sea.

To the sea, to the sea.

What today is, no one may know, what
will come tomorrow may be better.

What will come tomorrow
may be worse.

What used to be,
no one knows any more.

Three kings on the Scheldt

perished for me.

Two kings on the Scheldt

will be washed up somewhere.

The third one is buried

and is waiting for the tide.

What is the point of this life?

To where does this life lead?

He's waiting for the tide,

for me, for me.

Wait a moment, wait a moment.

Come at 9 o'clock Monday morning
to collect your diplomas.

At 9 o'clock.

Mr Miereveld. Don't you recognise me?

Beps. I was looking for Franny
Veenman. I wanted to give her this.

I'll give it to her.
- No, you don't need to do that.

Yes, I'll do it.

I wanted to buy you all a drink
this evening.

Miereveld.

I'll never see her again.

Goodbye.

Fran.

You were too beautiful for me.

I couldn't reach you.

You were too far away

for me.

The night that closed around me then,
lasted for years.

I live in this street now.

With growing affection
I looked around me

at ordinary, everyday people,
people who can cast off all ties.

In those long years I didn't taste
a single crumb of that happiness.

As a lawyer I split hairs so much

that every case
became a hopeless mess.

Brantink helped me, but to no avail.

One day I decided to give it up.

Corra didn't say anything,
but nodded silently.

We moved and I live here now.

A job that I had applied for,
as a clerk at the court,

was given to me.

I don't feel degraded.

One Saturday morning
I met Professor Mato.

He's a renowned expert at court,
a medical examiner,

with whom I am almost friends.

For a small but international case
he had to visit a village in the north

and he invited me to accompany him.

I didn't dare refuse.

I shouldn't have accepted
the invitation.

Good afternoon.

Do you know my assistant?
Doctor Verbrugge. Mr Miereveld.

Pleased to meet you.
- Pleased to meet you.

Hot, isn't it?

Yes, very hot.

What a strange case with
that bank messenger!

Did you see the file?

No.
- Well, the case is as follows.

Six months ago
a bank messenger disappeared.

All inquiries were in vain until
a body was washed up a month ago

that couldn't be identified because
of the advanced state of decomposition.

They've buried it temporarily until
all formalities have been fulfilled.

We have to investigate whether
the man was the victim of manslaughter

and once again try
to establish his identity.

What are the identifying features?

One:
the right leg ends in a clubfoot.

Two: the ring finger on the left hand
has a lump on the second joint.

Three: strong teeth, perfect condition,
no fillings.

Four: tall, in his forties.

Then identification is, in fact,
easy.

Yes, identification or
non-identification.

Usually the teeth are sufficient
to establish identity.

Because it is a clear feature,
like fingerprints for the living.

We usually make impressions of the
teeth on the spot using a blue powder.

Look.

For preserving anatomic evidence.

This is a costotome,
for cutting through the ribs.

Then you can open up the body
like a box with a lid.

An electric saw, mains operated.

Or low voltage, like here.

The blade doesn't rotate
because of the splashing

but makes
an alternating vibrating movement.

Like a vibromassage device.
- Yes, exactly.

But the effect of this
is much more powerful.

We're too early gentlemen.
Shall we get some fresh air?

Come on, gentlemen.
I think it's time.

Put the coffin on the table,
please.

The oath.

I swear to carry out my task honourably
and conscientiously, so help me God.

Right, up.

Come closer, Mr Miereveld.

The right leg ends in a club foot,

the ring finger on the left hand
has a lump on the second joint.

The teeth are perfect,
height 1.87 metres, age 42.

Check the plate?
- Yes.

So, G2475. OK?
- Yes.

Open the coffin, please.

The family, please.

Come closer, Mr Miereveld.
- You won't be in the way, my friend.

Everything OK?
- OK.

Very advanced state of decomposition.

No right clubfoot.

Nothing to be seen
on the left hand any more.

Impression of the teeth.

Five lead fillings.
Gaps from two missing molars.

It's not the bank messenger.

Judging by the degree of wear
to the edge of the teeth

I estimate the age to be
between 40 and 50.

Very strong build.

Very nice skull.

Probably not from here.

Costotome.

There's no point
in examining this side any further.

There's a scarcely visible join
in the middle of the right shin bone.

Probably an old break,
set very skilfully.

Still doesn't belie
the description given

because he won't have limped
as it grew back together perfectly.

And no one will have known.

The back.

Look, Mr Miereveld.
That is interesting.

A small hole. 10 mm in diameter. In
the middle of the left shoulder blade.

But no bullet.
- Do you think it's manslaughter?

I wouldn't say that.
Maybe a gunshot wound.

Little can be deduced
from this examination.

I fear the lab tests
won't come up with anything either.

Well, we'll see.
- Job done.

He can be buried.
- I'm going for a walk.

OK, see you in 10 minutes by the car.
I've got to look at some papers.

Sir, there's something stuck
to your shoe.

Yes, as agreed,
I'll send the files back to you.

That's fine.

Everything OK, Miereveld?
- Yes, thank you.

A telegram for you, Professor.
- Thank you.

A colleague of mine,
Professor Zijsma, has heard I'm here

and invites me to meet him
50 or 60 kilometres from here,

where we can stay the night.

I can hardly refuse his invitation.

I'm sorry. There aren't any more trains
today that you can catch back.

But we would be delighted
if you would accompany us.

We can send a telegram
to our wives.

Of course.

Fine by me.

Can you still smell the body?

Yes, a bit.
- It used to be like that for us too,

but after a while you get so used to it
you no longer smell a thing.

Did you enjoy this afternoon?
- Yes, certainly, certainly.

The case was not unusual,
but now you know what an autopsy is.

Yes, definitely.
I found it very instructive.

Thank you for asking me
to come with you.

It wasn't too awful?
- No, it wasn't too bad.

To start with it seems awful because
you think about the person too much.

The person in the body.

And about yourself
and your own mortality.

But later, quite quickly,
you will look at it scientifically

and eventually you won't find it
so gruesome any more.

On the contrary,
you discover the beauty of it.

A wound is a spyhole
in an ingenious structure.

What you call flesh
becomes tissue, muscles, nerves.

All forms of living matter that
have their own existence and own soul.

And death is changing from this life

into other, new forms of life.

Is anything else to be found
behind that changing of matter?

Maybe the permanent changing of
that matter into other forms of life is

the soul, and it can exist by itself

and give meaning to that changing.
Who can say?

And the hole in the back?
Do you think it was manslaughter?

Difficult to say. I'm not even sure
it was a gunshot wound.

Maybe an injury when the body was
in the water and bumped into the peer.

Or when it washed up on the paved
bank where we were just now.

The state of decomposition
was too far advanced.

If it were a gunshot wound,
was the shot fatal immediately?

A shot to the heart is only fatal
with a 9 mm bullet.

Yes, nature is tough.

And yet so fragile at the same time.

The three single rooms
that were booked. Mato.

Papers, please sir.

Here you are.

Rooms 14, 15 and 17.

Mr Miereveld.
- Thank you.

Here you are.

See you later, Miereveld.
- Right.

In the hall.
- See you later.

Miss Veenman.
I may call you Fran, may I not?

Certainly, Mr Miereveld. Of course.
- Govert. Godfried, if you prefer.

Govert. With pleasure.
Not as restless as Miereveld.

Rouben Vaclav, my impresario.
An old teacher, Mr Miereveld.

I'm here by chance. I wasn't prepared.
I don't even have any luggage.

Professor Mato, an expert from
the court, invited me to an autopsy.

It was a difficult afternoon.
It was boiling hot.

Maybe you read in the newspaper about
the bank messenger who disappeared.

A body was washed up,
but it wasn't him.

Forgive me for talking about it.

It's so long since
we've seen each other.

Dinner, ladies and gentlemen.
- Excuse me.

See you later.
- See you later.

Hotel Royal, reception.
Yes, sir. Room this evening?

Sorry, that was a former pupil
who I hadn't seen for years.

I didn't know you taught
at drama school.

No, I didn't. Never.

But the lady you were talking to
is Franny Veen, isn't she?

Franny Veenman.
- Do you know Franny Veen?

Yes, she's a former pupil of mine.
A friend, in fact.

My colleague's not there yet.

Do you mind waiting with dinner?
- No, not at all.

My wife and daughter
love Franny Veen.

But I've never had the chance to go to
one of her performances.

Maybe this evening
is a unique opportunity.

Waiter, do you know whether Mrs Veen
is performing in the theatre tonight?

Yes, sir.

Could you book some seats?
- Of course, sir.

May I invite you to join me, gentlemen?
- With pleasure.

If you would be so kind.
Four seats in the stalls.

Certainly, sir.

A very beautiful woman.

Beauty incarnate.

Where does that principle of beauty,
the soul reside in such a woman?

In yoga there are various stages
of bliss and the strange thing is

that for the tantrism
the soul has been incarnated.

But where does the soul reside
in Franny Veen?

We westerners know little about that.

But do you know how perfection
is expressed in belly dancing?

The navel must perfectly describe

the sign of infinity.

Isn't that the sign of
the seat of the soul?

Then the soul can reside
in a particular place in the body.

The appendix, maybe.

Yes, us doctors should take care
when doing an appendectomy

that we don't cut out the soul.

Excuse me,
I need to go to my room a moment.

I'd like to come a bit later too.
I'm tired.

It was an awful day.
Everything was so overwhelming.

Will you make my apologies
to your assistant?

I'm going for a walk.
My nerves are shot.

She said, "See you later."

"See you later."

Did Miss Veenman leave a message
for me? Miereveld.

Room 17.
- Sorry, Mr Miereveld.

It doesn't matter.

Yes, right ... Then I'm off to bed.

Or maybe in Miss Veenman's box.
Maybe you could take a look?

I don't know her number.
- Miss Veen's number is 21.

I can't see anything, Mr Miereveld.

But she probably won't stay out
much longer.

If you want to talk to her ...
- No, I'll see her tomorrow morning.

I'm off to bed.

Or Mr Vaclav?

He had his luggage taken to his car.

He has probably left already.

Right, thank you. Good night.
- Good night, Mr Miereveld.

Room 17. Have you forgotten
my coffee and my drink?

Thank you.

Sir, your drink and your coffee.

Sir, your drink and your coffee.
- Thank you. Put them on the table.

She said, "See you later."

Maybe she meant at the theatre?

And why not in her room?

I'll wait until she's back.

I must finally tell her.

Once, one last time,

I've got the right to be myself.

Fran.

Fran.

I hope that I may tell you everything,
that I have always loved you.

And meeting you now!

You can't imagine

how good I felt when I saw you
coming down the stairs.

When I saw your smile and
heard you comment about Miereveld.

You said Godfried.

With pleasure,
not as restless as Miereveld.

How did you know so quickly, so clearly
what was hidden deep in my soul?

And what I myself am so afraid of.

Do you know how beautiful you are,
Fran?

Your beauty is a miracle,

that has a physical beginning

but that doesn't reside
in a particular place in your body.

Spiritually it is far-reaching.

Infinitely far-reaching.

Now you can no longer
misunderstand me, Fran.

To me you are beauty incarnate.

Let me bathe in your golden light
for a short while.

I'm a court clerk,
like hundreds of others.

My wife, Corra,
is a courageous, exemplary woman.

And I have two wonderful,
clever children, Does and Cathy.

They still don't understand
what a failure their father is.

Do you know, Fran, this afternoon
I experienced something awful.

Forgive me for talking about it
before dinner,

about that awful autopsy,
but I can't get it out of my head.

I will never forget it.

And yet, without that
I would never have met you.

That horror contained beauty.

Beauty itself is horror.

Because it is so overwhelming
that it threatens to destroy us.

You see, Fran,
I believe in angelic powers.

But when they actually appear
before me,

I am so disconcerted I chase them
away, turn them against myself.

For six months I was completely happy.
Your last months at school, Fran.

You were there, beauty incarnate,
an angel.

I saw you, I knew you,

but I didn't recognise you.

And when you were gone,
that meant the end for me.

Why couldn't I say anything, Fran?
Do you understand?

Why aren't I on my knees?

All that weighs me down, Fran.
I'm so tired.

I'd like to go to sleep forever.

I've done my best.

I've done everything humanly possible.

I know, Govert.
I do understand you.

I did feel how important it was
to you and you didn't say anything.

That time was so beautiful
for both of us.

But why didn't you say anything,
Govert?

Govert,
I couldn't take the first step.

That relationship between us
could have been unique.

I loved you and
I expected everything from you.

Happiness within our reach,
perfect, too perfect.

It seems that that's possible too.

And now I may experience it.

I loved you, Govert,
even though you didn't know, Govert.

I'm so happy, I still can't believe

that such perfect love could exist.

That it exists. I've waited for you
for a long time, Govert, so long.

So very long, Govert.
I'm sure you were never selfish.

Beauty is always
accompanied by goodness.

I've known men:

greedy,
egocentric, often selfish.

Beauty is different.

There you are.

And it's best like that.

My parents were simple people,
Fran.

I can still remember playing in the
empty back garden of Father's house.

I played with dirty earth, hard and
sticky from chicken droppings.

Maybe all the bathing I do now
and all my visits to the barber

is just to wash away what's left
of the smell of chickens.

Once, when I was about 4 or 5,
I was sitting on the doorstep.

The sun was shining brightly,
the street was empty,

brightly lit on one side,
in deep shadow on the other.

Suddenly, an old woman I knew
very well came round the corner.

Someone I loved very much.

She came closer and
I saw her yellow, wrinkled face.

She said, "Hello, lad."
And I said, "Hello."

And she went past

and I saw her all on her own
in the brightly lit, empty street.

And suddenly she'd disappeared,
gone.

And I ran inside crying.

No one understood why I was crying
and I couldn't tell them.

Govert, I owe you the truth.

You asked me a question.
I'll answer it.

I mustn't spare you the disappointment.
You will understand me better.

Let me show you three things.

Father gave me this

when I left home, driven out by him.

It was the Sunday after the school
festivities, remember, Govert?

I'd known that ending for six months.
Father had warned me.

He disappeared six months ago.
How it happened, no one knows.

Something was wrong with a lock gate
one night, on the Scheldt.

They never found Father's body.

When I gave them his description I
didn't want to go into too many details.

His sister seemed to know more about
it than me but I tore up her statement

because it said something about
four fillings and two missing teeth

and an old break of the lower left leg,
that no one knew about

because Father never limped.

Sorry, Govert,
I shouldn't have told you.

That autopsy upset you so much.

Do you know
how you came to be at our school?

Why did you never guess?

They kept the secret well, the school,
the town council and Freken.

Remember? Facts are facts.
Judge Brantink is leaving our school.

But now you know, Govert.
I loved Brantink.

Don't judge us too harshly.

There was no question of seduction.
I knew and wanted it.

And I met you as a result.

The one who gave the game away
was Freken.

She lived next door to the house
where Brantink and I met each other.

They politely asked Brantink to resign.

The headmaster and Freken
spoke to my father.

Brantink, of course.
Yes, I loved Brantink.

Yes. I loved Brantink.
In fact, Brantink was only the first

of all those
who worshipped and indulged me,

and who robbed me of all my illusions.

They gave me the most terrible present,

that our desires could be satisfied

but the one big longing
appears incurable.

Yes, I loved them all.

I don't feel any shame.

I'm tired, Govert. I'm tired.

Do you recognise this?

Have I answered your question now?
I rarely saw Father again.

When I left, he asked,
"Have you eaten?"

And then, "Open your case."
He threw the gun in it and said,

"With my curse and my blessing."

I never understood that, until now.

Now I know what it means,
what Father meant it for.

See what a poor brother and
sister couple we make, Govert?

Yes, I've known a lot of men and
loved them all. I loved Brantink.

A dark force emanated from Father.

What are you looking for, Govert?

Don't look, Govert.
Yes, you know, my image is deceptive.

Maybe you will carry on looking,
Govert.

But don't look any further.
It can't be found.

I loved them all.
Brantink was only the first.

You can still cling to the illusion.
You haven't worn it out like me.

For me it's threadbare.

I've only got my fatigue and
the old army pistol.

I never understood
what Father wanted.

Now I'm as unscrupulous about
death inflicted by oneself

as the other disgrace.

Don't keep looking for the illusion.
Continue your existence and despair

and die suddenly,
crushed by your bottled-up pain.

But your pain will always be
sweeter than mine,

that too hopelessly knows that 'it'
no longer belongs here,

that it can no longer belong here.

Govert, you wanted it to reach
right up into heaven, didn't you?

This meeting can turn into something
wonderful if you will see me off.

Yes, that is the meaning of
you coming to me so late.

Don't carry on looking.
This is my dawn.

Help me, Govert. Please.

Understand what my father wanted,
Govert.

It is wonderful that
you are seeing me off.

You are goodness and love, Govert.

Govert.

Govert.

Govert.

Godfried.

Don't cut her up. Don't cut her up.
No autopsy.

She died instantly. The bullet size
was huge. Don't cut her up.

Don't cut her up.

Still haven't found anything, Miereveld?
- No, nothing.

Are you coming to see
The Threepenny Opera?

Miereveld? It's the German version
with Forster and Lotte Lenya.

Corra's coming tomorrow
with the children.

Corra is my wife.
She promised the governor.

I've had a letter from her.

See you later, then. 4 o'clock.

See you later.

After a number of
successful trial flights

a manned rocket was launched today
at Cape Tacony

that is not being sent along
a fixed trajectory this time

but is remote-controlled.

The scientists from
the NAW Naval Institute want,

by means of the actinometers on board,
to measure

the effect of the L2 rays
on living beings.

To what extent will the human organism
be able to withstand them?

FROM THE WORLD OF ART

Franny Veen, one of our actresses,
tells us about the role of Phaedra,

that has been a huge success and
that she created in our town.

How many times have you played
the role of Phaedra in our town?

Seven times.

How many more are to come?
- Three.

Will you come back to our town again?
- Maybe.

Is that old news?
Is that old news or is it recent?

Governor.

Governor, I saw a news reel
in the projection room.

Is that old or recent?

Why, Govert?

It's recent, isn't it?

It's not a mistake?

It's not a mistake.
- Then I didn't murder Fran.

The shot didn't kill her.
She recovered.

Correct, Godfried.

Correct.
One word, correct.

And the horrifying burden of
the past ten years has disappeared.

The suffering, fear, mistakes of
a hopeless man have been undone.

So it wasn't farewell, Fran.

Godfried, you said then.

God ... fried.

Yes, gentlemen.

In that peace, Franny,
I will now be able to live.

The world always seems so vague.

I see the truth,
in duplicate, in triplicate.

But that vagueness,
that's what I believe in.

There's always something fragile
in me, deep inside me,

which makes me feel the need
to look at myself from the outside.

Then everything becomes clear.

But then ... I'm ... someone else.

Then ... 'I' is

someone else.

What will happen when I die?

When I've died?

Where will I be?

Where will Corra be?

And Does?

And Cathy?

Corra?

Where will you be then?

Do you understand?

I should've been humble
from the beginning.

And tilled the land.

Help tender plants live and die.

And carve wood into
what the Lord had intended it for.

A stool.

A piece of furniture for you,
Corra.

That is my mute contribution
to the household.

And for Cathy and Does.

For my children, for later.

When they are grown-up and happy.

When they too will know

and think back to

the failure who was their father.

Corra.

Dear Corra.

THIS WAS THE STORY OF
GOVERT MIEREVELD,

THE MAN
WHO HAD HIS HAIR CUT SHORT.