All language subtitles for Histoires.dÔÇÖAme¦ürique.Food.Family.And.Philosophy.1989.1080p.JPN.Blu-ray.AVC.LPCM.2.0-Anonymous.eng

I want to go back.

I want to go back.

I want to go back.

I want to go back.

I want to go back.

Life is wonderful.

I don't miss anything.

I'm just looking at
the stars on the sky.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Life is wonderful.

There is nothing missing.

Sleep my child.

I will change the way
I soften your breast.

When you suffer,
you will see that life is mocking you.

Let me live the way I want to live.

I'm a child.

How much longer?

I will be with you forever and ever.

You changed your mind and spoke your
mind in your house and in your home.

I will be with you forever and ever.

A rabbi always passed through a village

to get to the forest and there,
at the foot of a tree,

and it was always the same one,
he began to pray, and God heard him.

His son too always passed through
the same village to get to the forest,

but he could not remember
where the tree was.

So he prayed at the foot of
any old tree and God heard him.

His grandson did not know where
the tree was, nor the forest.

So he went to pray in the village,
and God heard him.

His great-grandson did
not know where the tree was,

nor the forest, not even the village.

But he still knew the
words of the prayer.

So he prayed in his house,
and God heard him.

His great-grandson did not know
where the tree, nor the forest,

nor the village were,
not even the words of the prayer.

But he still knew the story,
so he told it to his children,

and God heard him.

My own story is full of
missing links, full of blanks

and I do not even have a child.

I loved him as no woman
could ever love a man.

We did everything together, we earned a
good living together

and each of my thoughts
was only for him.

He was such a handsome
and warm-hearted man.

If I wanted to, I could talk to him.

If I wanted to keep quiet,
he respected my silence.

One day, quite suddenly, he died,

leaving me alone with
our 13-year-old daughter.

My world fell apart.

I sat down on a chair,
looking straight ahead.

My eyes were tearless.

I was senseless.

Only when it was night
and dark could I cry.

I sat on a chair crying all night long.

But at daybreak,
I had to get up to make breakfast

for my daughter.

I thought to myself, at least I do not

have to get dressed, as I never
got undressed that whole night.

I thought of my mother,
who had remained in Poland

and from whom I had no
news in such a long time.

Were they all dead over there?

What was happening in my old land,
terror gripped my heart,

but I managed to chase it away.

I said to myself that everything
had been easier for her.

Her parents had married her
off at the age of 16 to a man

she did not love without
even asking her opinion.

She got used to him,
to this man, to my father.

When he died, life went on as before.

Anyway, so it seemed to me
I was still a little girl.

My daughter and I had
breakfast in the kitchen,

a little bread and tea.

I thought to myself, he is dead,
and here we go on eating.

I felt like throwing
myself out the window,

but I held myself back.

I thought he will never
eat with us again, ever.

He's lying very peacefully
on a bed in the bedroom.

It was as if he had
known he was going to die.

He had taken out a very
heavy life insurance.

But what was I to do
with all that money?

It was his way of saying to me,
when I'm gone, life will go on.

You will have enough to live on.

America is a big and beautiful country.

You see, I have not abandoned you.

I am with you still.

We had lived through pogroms,
hunger, cold.

It was even said that today in Europe,

people were being taken into slavery.

But so many things were said.

In the end, what we knew was this.

We could live here without being afraid,

without creeping along the walls.

And then he had to die.

And everything was nothing.

and I came to take him away.

They put him in a coffin.

Then I fainted.

Yossi, my husband's best friend, came

to take us to the cemetery.

He brought me back to life
with a little cologne attached

at the temples at the wrists.

My head felt as if
it was going to burst.

And Yossi held me
very tight by the hands.

When they closed my husband's coffin,

I became hysterical to stop them
from putting him into the grave,

and Yossi held me back forcefully
from the grave to calm me down.

I think that I screamed.

I do not know how it happened,

but on the way back from the cemetery,
on the way home,

Yossi and I were alone together.

Serala, my daughter,
must've been in another car.

I began crying again.

I had hoped so much that
some miracle would happen,

something, but now he was buried.

What could ever happen?

Yossi did everything
he could to comfort me.

He was such a nice boy,
my husband's best friend,

a good friend.

He spoke to me softly to comfort me.

Yeah.

took me in his arms
and whispered in my ear.

Then as he spoke, he kissed me.

Sweet kisses, very tender
kisses as one kisses a child.

I felt tears running from his eyes.

He was crying, too.

We were both crying.

Then I felt his mouth meet mine,
and he kissed me the way

a man kisses a woman.

And I was so tired and
confused that I let him kiss me.

And without even
thinking of my own actions,

I kissed him back.

I was so exhausted.

I did not know where I was.

It was dark all around me.

I let myself continue to cry.

Again and again, he kissed me,

but I had no strength to resist.

He spoke to me, he said many things,
but I heard nothing.

They were words of love,
but I did not hear them.

I was unconscious in his arms,
a living corpse.

When I got home,
my daughter had already arrived.

She looked at me with
big questioning eyes.

I could not bear to look in those eyes,

but she stared at me.

And it was as if she
had guessed everything

and was asking me why.

Her stare pierced my soul,
but I had no reply.

But who has an answer, anyway?

And what kind of woman had I become?

Six months ago, I brought my fiancee

to this country from Poland.

I tore her away from her family.

Her parents did not want her to leave.

For them,
she was no longer among the living,

and they sat Shiva for her.

She had no one else
left in the world but me.

I had to earn a living,
so I shaved my beard,

and I cut my side curls,
and I closed my prayer books,

and I went out into the world.

And I said, God will forgive me.

There was nothing else I could do.

I had to earn a living.

When I went to meet her at the boat,
she hardly recognized me.

without my beard and
dressed like an American.

And we were married that same day.

There was no family,

but a few of my friends
from work were present.

And I said to her,
we will build a family of our own,

and we will have our own children.

And later they will have children

who will have children of their own.

Anyway, we could not stay over there.

That was no life.

And then I told her that one
day we would have enough money

and we would bring over
the rest of the family.

And she listened to me silently,
her face

weighing in her eyes big.

And she smiled.

But I felt that she was
not able to believe me

and that she was suffering.

I mean, everything was
strange to her and upsetting.

I mean, this unknown
language and these new faces,

it all upset her.

Anyway, that next day, she fell ill.

And I had to go to work,
or I'd be fired.

My boss had already warned me.

And that night,
when I returned to our unheated room,

Things were not any better.

And the following day, they got worse.

I mean, she stayed in the bed,
still being silent,

with her eyes looking up to the ceiling.

But she didn't cry,
and she didn't complain.

Fortunately,
that following day was Saturday,

and I didn't have to go to work.

So the doctor came.

And although he didn't know
the cause of her illness,

he prescribed medicine.

So I had to go back to work.

I mean, how could I pay
for the medicine if I didn't?

I mean, what, beg on the streets?

Because what kind of man is a beggar?

He's not a man.

By midday, I was so sick
with worry that I ran home.

And when I opened the door,
I heard this frightful voice,

just wheezing and muttering.

And I heard the voice of an old woman.

And I ran to my wife's side,
and she was delirious.

And I put my hand on her forehead,

and she was burning up.

I mean, she was going out of her mind,

and I was quickly going mad.

So I went back to the door,
and I shut it.

And I went over to the stove,
and I turned on the gas.

And I went back to
my wife beside the bed,

and I laid down next to her.

And I held her in my arms.

Just the two of us together.

Because if she was going to die,
she was not going to die alone.

And I let myself slip
into death at her side.

And I felt relief.

And then suddenly, my wife,
she cried out for air.

And I hurt her with what
little strength I had left.

And I picked myself up out of the bed.

And not yet dead,
I crawled over to the window

and I opened it and
I turned off the gas.

And I picked my wife up in my arms.

And I carried her over to the window

where she breathed like
someone who had almost drowned.

And she began to feel better.

My fever fell.

And the color came back into her
face and she opened up her eyes.

And she was hungry. She wanted to eat.

And she began to get better.

And I had almost killed her.

I felt like a criminal.

And I had lost all hope,
and all the time,

this little bit of life
was beating inside of her.

The following day, she woke up singing.

And she sang as she made the breakfast,

and then she continued to sing
as she moved around our home.

And a few days later I
found a good job in a shop.

With the boss, he treated me like a son.

And he wanted me to become his partner.

And now my wife is expecting a baby.

And I'm so happy.

I mean,
we're alive and everything is well.

Mister, tell me, before I go
completely crazy in this country,

how did you manage to shave so fast?

You know life?

- Life is like a fountain.
- Why?

It's okay. Life isn't like a fountain.

- Hello, Teitelbaum.
- Mandelbaum dropped dead.

Come on, Teitelbaum.
What's the matter with you?

I give you a polite hello
and you tell me to drop dead.

- Why?
- Why? I'll tell you why.

Suppose I'd answer to you politely,
hello.

Then you're going to
ask me where I'm going.

Then I'm going to tell you I'm
going to the Houston Street steam bath.

Then you're going to tell me
the Avenue A steam bath is better.

Then you're going to tell me that a man
who prefers the Houston Street steam bath

to the Avenue A steam bath
must have a hole in his head.

So I holler that a man who
prefers the Avenue A steam bath

to the Houston Street steam
bath must be completely crazy.

So you call me a schmuck.

So I holler back, what, a schmuck?

Drop dead.

Well, instead of going
through that whole long hoo-ha,

I answer right away,
drop dead, and that ends it.

Goodbye.

Hello Edinburgh!

Hello, Milstein, how are you?

How's the wife and children?

Everyone's fine.

My wife is flourishing.

She's walking down the street
like the queen of New York.

She just left for vacation in Florida.

And with a little help from God,

she won't become sick this year.

My children are also doing well.

Esther's going to marry a
fine young man from Queens,

whom she met at a friend's house.

And Dahlia's finishing high school.

Well, goodbye, Ehrenberg.

You

As for me,
I'm not going very well, thank you.

Skadavia, Skadash, Shemera, Bor,

Ben-Lor, De-Vru, Hos-Sinai, Hoh-Pur.

I began studying scientific
books when I was very young.

My father didn't say anything,
but he disapproved.

He believed my studies
were separating me from God,

and he was right.

I was constantly tormented by doubt.

As long as I was
living with them at home,

I continued to go to
synagogue and to attend yeshiva.

I was constantly disturbing classes

with all sorts of questions.

As soon as I came to this country,

I became a free thinker.

My parents stayed behind,
and they're probably dead by now.

Here, I'm open to the world of ideas.

I've joined the Communist Party.

I spend my life at meetings,
my wife too.

We live in continual exultation.

We are going to change the world.

When others would arrive
with dreadful news from Russia,

we listened, but we didn't believe them.

Eventually, we had children,

and we had less and less free time.

I had to work more,
but still we kept the same ideas.

Then I began to feel something
was missing from my life.

I became gloomy, nervous.

In time, I did not know why.

My wife was worried about me.

My children looked at me
as if they were afraid of me.

I lost my appetite.

I didn't know what to do with myself.

When friends would come over and tell me

of the latest strikes or
motions that had been voted on,

The conversations left me
with a nasty taste in my mouth.

The faces of my parents invaded my mind.

My father, such a fine man.

And my mother,
who would have never hurt a fly.

My mother kept a secret diary.

When I was little,
I found it and I read her words.

I can only confide in you,
my diary, because I am a woman.

My parents were stripped naked,

like many others.

It wasn't so much their deaths that,

but their nakedness haunted,

and no one to say Kaddish for them.

I was the only one left alive,

and I had not said Kaddish for them.

Moreover, who would say Kaddish for me,
I wondered.

My children, true Americans,
good children,

knew nothing about it.

And why would I, a free thinker,

have taught them anything about it?

One day by chance,
I walked into a synagogue.

It was Yom Kippur and I
didn't even know about it.

People were walking into the synagogue,

looking pale, having fasted.

I was alone.

I watched as they started to follow
them in, and then at the last moment,

I remembered I was no longer a believer.

I remembered that I even
thought that this belief

kept the world in darkness.

I didn't go in, but I was unable to
pull myself from the synagogue walls.

A force greater than me
held me there immobile.

Inside, they began to pray.

And from where I was standing steadfast,

I heard the melodies.

And suddenly, my heart became light.

The strain that had oppressed
it for so long disappeared.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

For a good while after that,
I felt better.

Then a iron hand gripped my heart again.

I felt fretful and depressed.

My wife didn't recognize me.

My children didn't want to see me.

I could no longer work.

Finally, I could bear it no longer,

and I ran into the synagogue,

and there among my own people,
I felt appeased.

Without realizing it,
my lips began to move.

At first, no words came out.

Then, out of my body came a voice.

I prayed.

And I'd forgotten nothing.

It was as if, in one second,

I'd erased all those years in America

where I thought I'd found my true self.

I was a man who knew the
universe was formed by a big bang.

I was a man.

who didn't believe that
God had spoken to Moses,

I still don't believe this.

But there I was praying and praying.

I prayed for my parents.

I prayed for all those
who can never again pray.

I even prayed for myself.

to another world of
which nothing now remains.

I went home,

saw my children,
happy and free as children

who have no past.

In a way, they seemed strange to me,

not my own.

I told myself,

You've raised savages
in this savage America.

I no longer knew who I was.

Was this man who was praying me,
or was he my shadow?

Now every night,

I wait impatiently for
everyone to go to sleep.

And quietly I get up,
pick up the old Gemara,

and become engrossed in the Talmud.

A pure atheist like me,
finding happiness in the Talmud.

Can you imagine that?

Isn't that a real crazy story?

Oy.

What's the matter?

What's the matter?

My shoes are killing me.

So why are you wearing them?

Why?

Well, I am going to tell you why.

My business could be ruined.

I own money to the butcher, to the
baker, to the grocer, to the landlord.

I have two daughters, so ugly, who knows
if I'll be able to marry them one day.

one day. My son is a real idiot.

and my wife nugs and nugs
and nugs until I go crazy.

Each night when I come back
from a fruitless day of work

and I look at my bills
and I look at my family,

at that point I could kill myself.

So...

I take off my shoes,
and mister, this minute,

when my shoes off my feet,
is such a mechaye.

It's only thing that make
life worth living, huh?

Oy

She carries a drink in the
mizzle while there is a going.

Hey!

She carries a drink in the
mizzle while there is a going.

Hey!

I had just turned 16 years old when
I left my little hometown in Poland.

It was heartbreaking to
leave my mother and father,

but they said that horrible things
were going to happen in Europe,

and they wanted at least
their only daughter to survive.

I did not want to leave.

I preferred to die
rather than to leave them.

My mother said that
people do not die so young.

Before my departure,
she told me without looking into my eyes

that a man would come
to fetch me at the boat

and that I should say he was my fiance.

She said that otherwise they
wouldn't let me into the country.

That is how Americans are.

She told me that over there in America,

I would never go hungry,
never be afraid,

that I would live as in a dream.

At the age of 16, I left my
home and my family and our town

and came to America.

Just as my mother said,
a man came to fetch me at the boat.

I said he was my fiance,
like my mother had told me to do.

Then the officials asked me and that man

to hold up two fingers,
and then we had to kiss each other.

I felt odd kissing a stranger.

At home, I did not have the right

to look a man in the eyes.

After the kiss,
they let me into the country.

The man took me to a
store full of merchandise.

I had never seen so many things.

He told me that here I had
to wear different clothes

so that he would not be ashamed of me.

He told me that I had to be modern,

that I should wear a
dress with short sleeves.

I rather liked the clothes,
but I was a little frightened.

I could hardly recognize myself,

and I wondered what my
mother would have said.

After that,
the man took me to a bedroom.

I immediately saw that
someone lived there,

but the man said it would be my bedroom.

I noticed that the clothes
in the room were men's clothes.

I said, "Whose clothes are they?"

He said, "Mine."

I said, "But where is your bedroom?"

He said, "Here, this is my bedroom too."

Then I said that we could
not stay in the same room,

that I could not stay
in the same room as a man.

He said that he was not just any man,
but my husband.

that we are now married,
but that I was to be his wife

and that I should behave like a wife.

He took me in his arms,
and I was so frightened

that I almost fainted.

Then I fought him off
with all my strength.

I had heard about what
a man does to a woman

and know that that is what
life is supposed to be like,

but I didn't feel I
was married to this man.

Day and night I fought him off.

But especially at night, when he
wanted what a man wants from a woman.

I decided to find a job,
to get money, to run away.

I found work.

But now he spies on me,
comes to where I work all the time.

I think he understands
that I want to run away.

What can I do?

Where can I go? I am alone.

I know no one here,
and my parents are so far away.

I miss them so much, and I'm sure they
did what they thought was best for me.

There's no place in the world I can go.

What am I to say now?

where's the kosher delicatessen

Where's the synagogue?

And the Jews? Where are the Jews?

Gevalt!

[foreign language]

Help!

Jews are being beaten!

Where? Who knows where?

In Hungary? Russia maybe?

I only wanted to know if
anybody here gives a damn.

Listen,
let's walk on the other sidewalk, okay?

Why?

Well, they are two, and we...
we are alone.

When I first got married,
my wife was so shy, so humble,

so gentle.

Never would she raise
her voice against anyone.

She did everything she
could to help me in the store.

We worked hard together.

When we had children,
she stayed at home with them

and took care of them
with love and patience.

Each day, I thank God for
giving me such a good life.

One year ago.

We rented one of our
rooms to a young man.

Then our home life changed.

I noticed that my wife
began to neglect the children.

At night, dinner was not
ready when I came from work.

And she began to go to the theater,
to the cafes with him.

And she decided to be an artist.

Of all things, an artist?

Then, they both joined the communists.

They accused me of being a capitalist,
of oppressing the poor.

But I was poor myself,
so how could I oppress the poor?

Then the neighbors began
to make insinuations.

They said this man
and my wife were having

an affair behind my back.

I could not believe them.

Not me, her husband,
the men who loved her.

But I knew her true nature.

And I know that could not be true.

Not her, not my wife.

And if becoming an artist
would make her happy,

then an artist she should be.

And if becoming a
communist is what she wanted,

then let her be one,
so long as she loves me.

But one day,
I saw them kissing in the street.

My heart stopped beating.

I had to lean against a building
to keep from falling down.

I couldn't believe it.

When I returned home,
all of the things were gone.

So were the young man's.

Children were alone and playing,
laughing,

unawares of all that was going on.

I did not know what to do.

I don't want to go on living, but...

The children need a mother, so...

I'm going to
go and look for her and...

look for her until I find her.

And she will love me again.

She will love me again.

I will forgive her.

And we will be happy.

Everything will be as it was.

It has to be.

♪ Do you remember sweet Betsy from Pike,

♪ who crossed the wide
mountains with her brother Ike?

♪ She crossed and she went
and then then something so

♪ and she went and she went
and she found something more

♪ Dada da da dada da dada da dadum

Harry, why do you always go
outside when I start to sing?

You know how it hurts my feelings.

What do you want me to do?

Stay inside and have the neighbors

think I'm beating you?

- What are you doing here?
- I'm waiting.

What are you waiting for?

There's nothing to
wait for in this world.

- Are you dancing?
- Are you asking?

- I'm asking.
- I'm dancing.

When we arrived in America
more than 12 years ago,

I thought we would never survive.

I had two little children then,

and my husband couldn't feed them.

He looked all over town,
everywhere to find work.

Sometimes he was hired for a day or two,

but there was never enough
money to pay for our room, food.

The children became so thin
you could see their bones.

They looked at me with their big,
hungry eyes.

They didn't dare to ask for anything.

They didn't dare to cry.

They clung close to my
body to get a little warmth.

One day, the landlord came, and he

demanded to be paid the
rent that very evening.

Otherwise, he was going to throw us out.

My husband ran all over town
to find the $4 that we owed him.

And that all his friends
were as poor as we were.

That evening,
he came home completely defeated,

having found not a single dollar.

Seeing his distress,
I held back my tears.

I packed our bags.

I took the two children in my arms,

and I went out in the street.

I sat down on the sidewalk.

People passing by threw us coins.

Neither I nor my husband picked them up.

And then.

An elegant lady stopped in front of us,
and she asked a few questions.

She treated us like human beings, and she
kissed the children as if they were hers.

And when she found out what had
happened to us, she took us to her home.

There, she gave us something to eat, and
then she went out to buy warm clothes

and some nice toys for the children.

She would have done anything for us.

Her husband gave my husband
$50 and promised him a job.

The lady was so happy.

She kissed,
she hugged the children all the time.

Overwhelmed, her husband told us,

you have brought
happiness into our house.

I didn't understand,
but I offered no resistance.

I was relieved, a little worried.

But the warmth of our new
friends set my mind at ease.

And the following day, we rented
a room and we began a new life.

A few months later,
with the help of our generous friends,

my husband opened a
business that prospered,

and soon we were a happy family.

Not a day goes by now without
us seeing our benefactors.

We've lived on the same street
together for several years,

and for us, they're more than family.

now.

I'm the mother of six children,
three boys, three girls,

each one more beautiful and
more intelligent than the other.

They study well at school.

They're good children,
we're proud of them.

What more can a mother ask for?

My husband does a good business,

and the hell of our earlier
years has long been forgotten.

But recently,
something dreadful happened

that troubles me a great deal.

Our friends, who saved our lives,
have no children.

They're well-off.

They get along with each other.

However, they have one great sorrow.

They're desperate to have children,
and they cannot.

And they're so attached to our children.

Last week, Ellen, our friend,
came to pour her heart out

to me sobbing.

She told me she no
longer enjoyed anything

and that her life was empty and joyless.

I did what I could to comfort her.

I told her she shouldn't despair,

that at her age she
could still have children.

And then she burst out sobbing

and she said she knew
that that was not possible

and that only I in all
the world could help her.

I told her, of course,
I would do anything to help her.

And then she told me that
she wanted me to give her

my youngest child,
not even two years old.

When I heard these words,

I felt the blood leave my body.

I almost fainted.

I said I had to speak
to my husband about it.

But she cries and she
begs to have this child

that she loves more than
anything else in the world.

But he's my child.

And nothing in the world,
not even gold, could replace him.

Her husband tries to reason with her.

He's more affectionate to her than ever.

But it doesn't help.

And I have the impression
that if this goes on,

she'll go crazy, and I will too.

I'm afraid that this
will end in tragedy.

Listen, Finkelstein,
I'm really happy to run into you.

Maybe you can give me
a little bit of advice.

You are a wise man,
and everything you do, you do well.

With pleasure,
but what's the matter, Bernstein?

I don't know what I have to do.

poorer than myself, you will not find.

I have one room, one single room,

where we're living eight of us together,

me, my wife, and my six children.

And every year, my wife brings
a new baby into the world.

They are beautiful babies.

I myself do not know
what to do and feed them.

What do I have to do?

I don't know anymore what to do.

Do nothing.

"Goodbye forever", my brother
said to me when I left Poland.

He was only eight years old,
and my mother did not

want him to leave with us.

I said, why "forever"?

He told me he felt we would
never see each other again.

I told him that at his age,
he was too little

to feel that kind of thing.

Then he turned his head away.

At that moment, I became frightened

that he might be right.

But my father and I left anyway.

As soon as we would get enough money,

we thought we would bring
over my mother and brother.

Here, my father worked day and night.

During the day,
he was door-to-door salesman.

And at night,
he cut out and tailored suits.

But still, we never had enough money.

My father grew so
thin that he scared me.

And then, after all our struggles,
he fell ill and died.

And I was left alone
and wanted to die too.

But our neighbor came to get me.

She said I was going to live with her.

You did not leave a 14-year-old
girl alone in a house.

And then, a few months later,

I learned that my mother
and brother had died too.

I did not even cry, I was so numb.

And anyway, it was as if they
had all died a long time ago,

and me too.

And then one day in the street,
a few feet away from me, I saw him.

It was my brother.

He had grown up so,
but it was really my brother.

And I wanted to cry out, Isaac.

But the words would
not come out of my mouth.

And I wanted to run toward him,
but my legs could not move.

Then he turned the corner.

Only then did my legs
take off on their own,

but when I got to the street,
he was gone.

I ran around the block,
I ran and ran until nightfall,

But I did not find him.

And I put ads in all the newspapers,
trying to find him and my mother.

People even answered the ads,
but it was not them.

Now every day I go back to that
street where I saw him and I wait.

That is all there is left for me to do,
to wait from morning until night.

Everyone tells me that I'm mad,
that I had a hallucination,

and that sometimes this happens when

you want something very much.

Someone even once told me, a survivor,

that he saw my brother enter
that place from which there

is no way out.

He told me that is what
they did with the children.

And he said that my
mother was far too weak

to have survived that hell.

But I know.

I saw my brother with my own eyes.

It was really him.

Do you know that God said that one
cannot go out with a married woman?

First of all, how can you be
sure that she's really married?

If she wasn't married by the rabbi,
but only by the mayor,

I don't know if God would
consider she's really married.

Maybe not.

But in that case,

would she have the right to have
sexual relations with her husband?

If her husband is her husband, yes.

Especially if she's not
married with another man.

But if God doesn't consider that
she's really married with her husband,

maybe then God would accept that
I have sexual relations with her.

- You? Certainly not.
- And why not?

- Because you're a married man.
- But not by the rabbi.

Then you are not a married man.

- So?
- So you'd better get married

because it's a sin for
a Jew not to be married.

But I am married.

Then why do you ask all these questions?

You know what?

Even a married man has
the right to ask questions.

I'm looking for a room to rent.

Come.

Enter, please.

Who knows what'll happen tomorrow?

Maybe we'll all be dead.

Oh, oh.

We can die even the next minute.

I'm as alone as a stone,
and I'll never be in love again.

I wonder what God thinks of all this.

Let him think what he wants.

Anyhow, he doesn't know us anymore.

But we don't know him anymore, either.

I would like to tell my
sufferings to the world.

But the world doesn't care.

But then who cares?

Yasso! Yasso! How are you?

Well, I'm good. Everything's good.

Really?
But I heard you had a terrible year.

So then how can everything be so good?

But everything is going well.

Every morning, I'm good and depressed.

Every night, I'm good and tired.

In the summer, I'm good and too hot.

In the winter, I'm good and cold.

There's so many holes in my roof.

I'm good and soaked.

My floor's so shaky.

When I take five steps,
I'm good and mad.

My children are so lazy.

I'm good and disgusted with them.

My wife talks so loud that
I'm good and sick of her.

In fact,
all is going so well in my life.

It's just that I'm
good and tired of living.

Well, good.

So enjoy it.

I'm enjoying.

I'm enjoying.

I was born in a little
village in Poland,

and I lived there very
happily until the age of 13.

My parents did everything
to give me a good education.

Then a pogrom broke out,
and they were the first victims

of the bloodbath.

They burned our houses,
destroyed the synagogue,

spared no one,
and no one is left for me.

But that was not enough
for these murderers.

When they found me,

I was the last living person in the
village they burned to the ground.

I begged them to kill me,
but they did not.

Instead, they stripped me of my honor
and left me there to suffer and cry.

I lost my memory.

I do not remember anything very well,
only that smell of burning

and me lying somewhere in the corner
of that village, silent and in ruins.

Then some people from the neighboring
village came and they took me with them.

They took care of me.

But they could never heal me.

Then my family from America sent for me.

But I feel like a stranger here,
neither dead nor alive.

And they have stopped caring about me.

Here, I feel lonely as a stone.

A few months ago, I met a man,
a nice, sensitive man.

I loved him right away,
and he loved me too.

But how can I,
a dishonored woman, marry him?

Now he has asked me to marry him.

And I asked for a little time
before I give him an answer.

I even try to discourage him,

but he does not want to hear of it.

He urges me every day
to give him an answer,

and his heart is heavy
because of my silence.

When he comes, I say nothing.

And when he leaves, I burn
with desire to have him come back.

I want to tell him everything.

This secret leaves me restless.

It troubles me night and day.

I do not want to hide anything from him.

If only he were to find out everything

and then make his own choice.

One day,
I will find the strength to tell him.

I hope it will not be too late.

My heart is broken
into a thousand pieces.

I cannot sleep,
I hardly eat, here is why.

I love two men.

Have you ever heard of such a thing?

But in this country,
everything is possible.

Nothing holds us back.

I'm one of those immigrants
who works in a store

and as I'm already 18 years old,

I'm starting to earn a good
living and my boss likes me.

Sometimes I think he likes me too much,

but I try not to notice
because he's a married man

and he has three beautiful children.

I've never really seen in
true life the first man I love.

I first started loving him when
he sent me a picture of himself,

a nice face with such gentle eyes

that look very much
like my father's eyes.

He's a part of our family,
and he lives in Chicago.

My parents want me to marry him,
so we started

to write letters to each other.

And the letters got longer and longer.

He writes very well.

And in his own honest words, I can

feel what kind of man he is.

Certain letters are very poetic and full

of passionate feelings.

I like that.

And he earns a good living,
so if I marry him,

I will not have to work.

Three months ago, a man came
to buy the store where I work.

He came by several times,
and then I realized

that he kept coming back to see me.

We started to go out together.

And at first, I thought he was a Jew.

And before I discovered that he was not,

I fell in love with him.

And now he wants to marry me.

I love him, but I also love
the other man in Chicago.

I feel I'm a part of this
new world when I'm with him,

but it frightens me that he's not a Jew,

even though I am a progressive person.

But with the other man,
it is completely different.

Each word he writes
me warms my heart and...

and sounds so familiar.

It is like a part of the old country

that I left behind me over there

and that I miss every day.

Inside me, I feel that I'm not so
different from the girl I was in Poland,

even though everything
here is different.

I feel so lost.
How can I choose?

Sometimes I wonder if there
there isn't something wrong with me.

- Where are you going?
- Washington.

Why are you lying to me?

But I'm not lying to you.

What makes you say I'm lying to you?

You tell me that you
are going to Washington,

to let me believe that
you're going to Philadelphia,

when you are really going to Washington.

- Where do you get your money from?
- I take it from my night table.

- But who puts the money in your night table?
- My wife.

- But who gives the money to your wife?
- I do.

- But where do you get your money from?
- On my night table.

- But who puts the money in your night table?
- My wife.

But who gives the money to your wife?

I do.

But where do you get your money from?

From my night table.

But who puts the money
in your night table?

My wife.

But who gives the money to your wife?

I do.

[singing in foreign language]

- Give me the borscht.
- Take my advice, have the chicken soup.

I'd like the pea soup.

If you like the pea soup,
take my advice, have the barley.

- But with the bone?
- Bone is busy.

How is this possible?

Hardly this morning, you came to see me,

and you told me my wife
and children are sick,

and I don't have the money
to pay for the hospital,

and all my windows are broken.

That's how it is how they got sick.

And I don't have the money
for the window repairman,

and if I don't pay my rent,
they're going to throw me out,

and that won't
be good for the health of my family.

And now, I find you sitting here,
like a king.

Doing what?

You're eating a fillet
of salmon with mayonnaise.

And that is the only way
you found to spend my money?

- Aren't you ashamed of yourself?
- Ashamed?

Even a poor man has a right to shit.

And as regards to the
salmon a la mayonnaise,

without the money,
it is impossible to eat one.

And now that I've found some money...

I can't eat the salmon either.

So tell me, when can I eat it?

So, when then?

So, when then?

Sir, do you know whether to shit

is a physical or an intellectual act?

Intellectual, of course.

Intellectual?

Why?

Because if it was physical,
we would hire

someone to do it in our place.

- What's bothering you?
- Nothing, nothing.

Don't be so discreet.

Tell me.

What's bothering you?

Okay, I'm gonna tell you.

For days and days I've been wondering,

what's the difference between
a psychotic and a neurotic?

The difference between a
psychotic and a neurotic.

Well, I'm going to tell you.

Really?

Yes.

Well, a psychotic,
he thinks that two and two make five.

A neurotic, he knows that two and
two make four, but he can't stand it.

But me, I think two and two make five,

and I still can't stand it.

In the Torah it is written,

thou shalt not lie
down with another man,

for it is a damnable thing.

And I shall not lie down with a sheep,

or you will be unclean for a week.

This chicken soup is really the
best I've ever tasted in all my life.

[foreign]Well, then?

So why didn't you recommend
the chicken soup to me?

Because you didn't ask for the borscht.

- Waiter!
- Waiter!

Waiter, my cake.

Listen, I changed my mind.

Bring me a schnapps instead.

You owe me for the schnapps.

But I gave you a cake in exchange.

You didn't pay for the cake.

But I didn't eat it.

- Waiter!
- Waiter!

Waiter!

Me, I would like a glass of tea.

Me too.

A tea, and in a clean glass, please.

Waiter, taste the soup.

30 years you've been
eating the same soup.

Have I ever served you a bad soup?

Waiter, taste the soup.

What's the matter with you, Sokolov?

You got problems?

The business? Your wife, maybe.

The children. I always thought
that David was a terrible tramp

and that one day or another
he'll make trouble for you.

but, uh, make enough trouble for you
so you won't be able to sleep nights.

So you won't let your wife sleep either,

which means she won't be
able to help you in the store.

so the store will have to close,

Because she's the
businesswoman and not you.

And then you won't be able to
pay for Josie's studies anymore,

and he'll have a nervous breakdown,
and then...

Waiter!

Taste the soup!

All right, all right already.
I'll taste your soup.

Where's the spoon?

Ah-ha!

Uh-huh.

Waiter!

Who was the one who
wanted a clean glass?

It was me.

Listen to me.

You do make out so well with women.

You must have a trick.

How do you do it?

How do you have to talk to them?

Well, I will tell you my secret.

Jewish girls like three topics
of conversation in particular.

Food, family, philosophy.

That's all you have to remember.

Now, to ask a girl what she wants to eat

makes her feel important.

To ask her questions about her family

shows that you have
honorable intentions.

And to discuss philosophy,
that is the most important of all.

That shows you have
respect for her intelligence.

Food, family, and philosophy.

Hello.

Do you like noodles?

No

Do you have a brother?

No.

But if you had a brother,
he would like noodles.

Take the umbrella, take the umbrella,
it's going to rain.

I feel it, I feel it.

I don't feel it.

So you too are in the schmatte business.

So it is my death you want.

Our children are ashamed of
us because we speak Yiddish.

They all went to the university.

Even our daughter,
and we're proud of them.

They've become doctors and professors.

Who could ask for more?

But we have brought up
strangers in this world.

My daughter.

My only daughter has dyed
her hair strawberry blonde.

My heart aches.

Am I wrong to want to speak Yiddish?

Should I, too, dye my hair
blonde to please my children?

I am leaving.

I am leaving.

I am going back to Warsaw.

But to survive here,
you have to have a heart of stone.

Moshe, lend me some money.

I can't.

But, but you're rich.

That's why.

What do you see, huh?

People.

What do you see...

now?

Myself.

You see what a little silver can do.

Before you saw people.

Now you only see yourself.

I'm leaving.

I'm going back to Warsaw.

He's a dead man.

Mom, son, you put the scarf on.

It is cold outside.

No.

No scarf.

Excuse me.

- Are you Jewish?
- No, not at all.

- Your father was Jewish.
- No, not at all.

- Your mother, maybe?
- No.

- Perhaps your grandparents were Jewish.
- No.

Your great-grandparents.

My great-grandparents were Jewish,

and they died in a pogrom.

My grandparents were Jewish,
and they starved to death.

My parents were Jewish,
and they died at Auschwitz.

And I'm a Jew.

And for the moment,
I'm doing very well, thank you.

Well, well, well.

That's very strange.

You don't look Jewish.

Afrim, Afrim, it has been so long.

Oh, I'm so glad to hear you.

But tell me, how are you?

Fine.

Oh, I understand.

You have people over.

I will call you back later.

Max, I beg you, put the scarf on.

It's cold outside.

Good.

Now tell me, is it warm outside?

In a few days,
I will no longer be among the living.

I've chosen the 24th
of June to end my life,

because it is the day
that my parents disappeared

from this world,
and with them, so many others.

It is the day that they died,
and it is the day

that I shall die.

Why, look at me.

I'm young.

I'm full of strength.

but inside of me there's only ashes.

My body is meant to bring
others into life, but it won't.

My hands are meant to work and caress,

but they tremble as
if they weren't mine.

When I look into the mirror,
I see this healthy man

as if nothing had happened,
and I feel horrified.

This can't be me.

When I eat any meat, I feel only blood.

And when I breathe,
I feel the odor of murder and death.

When I walk,
it's as if I'm stumbling over corpses.

I don't want to breathe anymore,
and I won't.

Why should I survive when
everyone else has died?

Why must I stay alive to remember?

Listen, Sarah,
things can't go on like this.

You've got to get married.

When I die, who will take care of you
when you get sick if you're not married?

Look at that young man.

What a magnificent young man.

But, Dad, he's going to commit suicide.

Suicide or no suicide,
as long as you like him.

I have an answer.

Does anyone have a question?

I do!

- Waiter, waiter!
- In them days, Hamnikdash, in Avintel-eh-eh-deh,

Sieg'st thee all among our busts,
see I'm all alone.

I bin joch I lidele weg,
die kisse I der.

Waiter!

Un singt I ma lidele, schlofen zu gehn.

Unter Riedele, unter Riedele's Wiegele

Steht a Chlor-Weiss-Ziegele

Dein Tadej is giforn allen

Das wird sein, dein Baruch.

Rozińkę zmiękła tlen,

Słow się idziele,

Słow...

Oh, what a beautiful night!

What a beautiful night tonight.

What's so beautiful about this night?

I don't see anything beautiful.

See or not see, as long as you hear.

Are you hearing your thoughts?

I have no thoughts.

Neither do I.

I have a green card, a gold card,
a platinum card, and a union card.

But you still have emphysema.

I take my pills, but I still
have the high blood pressure.

What pressure? There's no pressure here.

I thought you were dead.

Somebody even told me they knocked
you down and you wouldn't get up again.

But coming from you,
it didn't surprise me.

As lazy as ever, I said to myself.

But I was very upset.
I-I even said kaddish for you.

But maybe I am dead.

Who knows? But, uh...

then if you're dead,
maybe I'm dead, too.

Then both of us are ghosts.

Ghosts?

But, uh, from where?

That I don't know, and I certainly
do not want to go back there.

Uh, tell me, how's your cousin doing?

A lot better.

The doctor said he could
leave the psychiatric home.

Is that where he was?

Yes.

He thought he was a grain of corn.

But things are going better.

So, uh, where is he now?

Up in a tree.

And if you want my opinion,
I think he's better there.

But why?
And, uh, what's he doing up in a tree?

Well, now that he is cured,

he knows that
he is not a grain of corn, but a man.

But who can know what the hens think?

Who knows what hens think?

Who knows?

Sing me a song in Yiddish.

My heart is broken.

Sing me something before I die.

On the Pripyat

There's a fire

In the rebellion, Kleine Kinderlein,

De heimalei w'bees.

In the rebellion, Kleine Kinderlein,

De heimalei w'bees.

Zeitje kinderlein,

Gedenkje kinderlein,

was y'learnedu.

Z'uk'in nochamul,

in'tak'in nochamul,

k'um etz'alevu.

Z'uk'in nochamul,

in'tak'in nochamul,

Also, schöne Nacht.

What a beautiful night this is.

What a night!

Lovely. Just beautiful.

Beautiful stars.

And the moon.

Oh, just for living, just for living.

Which way is to Thornton Street?

You, uh-- you-- you follow this street,
you go straight ahead.

You keep straight ahead,
then you make a left.

No, uh, rather a right.

No, no, neither a left nor a right.

And, um, you come back 50 meters.

Then you'll go kitty-corner a
little and you'll pass Yonkel's.

You should ask her.

She knows all about geography,

and she knows all the names
of the stars in the sky.

Speaking about Yonkel,
I think I understood.

If he is outside, it's because
he doesn't like to be inside.

Perhaps because he doesn't
love his wife anymore.

Probably just happened to him one day,
just like that, to stop loving her.

And however, he did not love her a lot.

Now he has no more strength.

It is perhaps a question of age,
perhaps not.

But that is the way it is.

And if he looks at the ground,

it is perhaps because he
doesn't want to look at the sky anymore,

and surely not in front of him,

because what is in front of him?

He knows all too well.

But tell me,
why do you have to go there?

What's so good about Stanton Street

compared to Fulton or Orchard Street,
for example?

I don't know.

But I know.

I am going to tell you
the way to Stanton Street.

You are going to walk steadily
for two kilometers that way.

Then you walk back 10 meters,
and you go around

my brother-in-law's garage.

Don't ask him anything,
because he is so hopeless that he'll

hold you up for hours talking to you.

What does a man have
to talk so much for?

And talking never did make
hopelessness any better.

When you go around the garage,
in the distance,

you'll see a newspaper man.

He doesn't like to sell today's paper,
only yesterday's.

Because for him, the past is
always better than the present.

And the present is there anyway,
so why sell it?

One, you have gone by the newspaper man.

Well, take a left.

No.

Take... and...
well, I don't know anymore

um, you should ask Moish,
he at least knows how to explain things

Moish Moish come over here

no, no, no, no. Ask Sarah! Sarah...

Women are more precise.
Besides they know the roads.

Besides Sarah has been
hanging out day and night!

I... I don't know how long.
I don't know why

"Not for love", she says.

Sarah!

Sarah, the way to Stanton Street?

Oh, it's easy.

Look, you see that building over there,

the one sticking out?

Well, you go in that direction.

Above all,
don't take your eyes off that building.

Then when you no longer see it,
you turn.

No?

Do you turn to the left or to the right?

bleh

What does it mean to turn
to the left or to the right?

What is important is to turn,
then you will come to a square.

No, no, not a square,
to an intersection.

And there you go past the red light,
and a second...

A third, then you go down the stairs.

No, you go up the stairs
then at the top. No at the top

You go down the stairs

and you pass by the garbage cans
and you continue ahead a few steps

No

And then you stop to think
it's better in these cases

Then you go on a steep road,

then left,

And then-- then right

then-- then right

No, no, uh

There is no way to
get to Stanton Street.

Good. Then I better stay here.

Ahh

One day,
in Moscow or in Warsaw as you like,

There is a man waiting in
line in front of a..butcher.

He's been waiting in the middle
of hundreds of others for hours.

When his turn comes up,
he asks the butcher,

"I would like to have a fillet of Beef."

The butcher looks at him,
stupefied, and responds,

"Fillet of Beef?!

No, mister, we don't have that."

"Well, then, uh...

I...
I would like to have the lamb cutlets."

But the butcher looks at
him more and more shocked.

"But no, mister,
we don't have lamb cutlets."

"Well, then, veal cutlets."

"No, mister, certainly not.

We don't have veal cutlets."

"If not veal cutlets,
then maybe veal roast, Huh?

"But mister, why don't you ask
me for something we do have?"

"Well, then, uh...

Give me... simply...

the breast of duck."

The butcher responds, "There isn't any."

And the man leaves.

And the butcher says, "What a fool.

But how he remembers!

Ha!

How he remembers!"

Ha ha!

Hey!

Heh.

Heh.

Heh.