All language subtitles for ohhell_05

-Listen.
-So sweet.

The ones in the middle are my sisters.

I would've liked to show them to you,
but the cemetery has an alarm system.

You'll have to stay there for now.

-So small.
-They're our tiny little miracles.

-It's so cute how she breathes.
-Yes.

Her respiratory system already
works really, really, really well.

The tiny little windpipes.

-And their delicate nasopharyngeal spaces.
-It's great.

Their tiny little bronchial trees.

Their larynxes,
their little voice boxes...

We must do everything we can to ensure
that this peace that surrounds them now,

the way you're lying there
and me too, the way we're lying here...

-Yes.
-That...

-And we're forming a circle.
-A perfect raisin.

Yes, exactly. A perfect raisin.

-Yes.
-That it stays like this.

That nothing tears our raisin apart.

Yes.

What's wrong?

I'm just thinking about
what could jeopardize all this.

Wat could endanger this raisin.

Something that is fundamentally dangerous.

What are you thinking of?

I know what you're thinking of.

I have to admit something to you.

I'm scared of her.

Yes.

I'm scared she's an apocalyptic being,

whose overriding metaphysical goal
is to confuse things,

to create chaos
and to form it into a regurgitated lump.

An owl pellet.

To turn everything that comprises
structure and order on its head.

You see? That's what I mean.

As soon as I get agitated about it,
our little munchkins start to cry.

Go back to sleep, little munchkins.

-I...
-Hello?

-You've got a visitor.
-Yes?

Michael Jackson.

She's a joker.

There's a young woman,

who smells of alcohol

and says she wants
to be called Michael Jackson.

And she says she's your daughter.

It's her daughter, yes.

My step-daughter.

Okay.

Fine.

-Let her come in.
-All right.

I called Dr. Berg-Berth's wife
while you were getting your epidural.

-And?
-She said he called in sick.

-And the clinic?
-She didn't know anything either.

Hello, everyone.

Thank you all for coming.

Thank you for that.

I'd like to start by going round the group
talking about any victories.

What good things have happened
to you in the past few days?

It can be something small.

Ms. Bohlmann?

Well...

I wasn't great this weekend.

I didn't get out of bed.

And...

then... I got mad again,

and I felt the anger again,
creeping up my throat,

and I felt like I wanted
to destroy everything.

Cool.

Ms. Bohlmann, we wanted
to start with positive experiences.

Ms. Sternberg,
do you have anything to share?

Yes.

Cool.

What?

Well, the fire that...

wants to destroy everything.

Ms. Bohlmann, how do you feel
when Ms. Sternberg says

she finds your feelings of anger "cool"?

I have no idea.

Anger is often
a type of jacket that fear has put on.

Maybe you felt scared this weekend?

Yes?

How come?

Ms. Sternberg,
we'll come to you in a minute. Ms. Bese.

No, seriously now...

Why should fear
wear a jacket called anger?

Why is fear a person
and anger a piece of clothing?

Maybe anger wears
a pair of fear underpants.

Anger is generally a feeling
that hides deeper feelings.

Stop. Why does anger
have to hide anything?

Why can't anger be a citizen
like any other citizen?

Why does everyone here say that fear
is the reason for everything?

If I was anger, I'd say,
"Hello, I'd like to have my say.

I want you to feel me.

I want to have my angry body felt up."

Thank you for this very valuable
contribution, Ms. Sternberg.

Could you just stop doing that?
Always saying thank you for everything.

-It has a therapeutic purpose.
-Really?

Is there anything that doesn't have
a therapeutic purpose for you?

For example, when you fuck, does
that have a therapeutic purpose for you?

Do you thank your partner
after every thrust?

Like...

"Thanks for your contribution!"

"Thanks for your contribution!"

Let's carry on with the positive things
that happened to us this week.

Mr. Lederer, what small, nice thing
did you experience this week?

I think it'd be good
if Janno said something.

Malia, this is Helene.

Helene, this is Malia.

Salome, this is Helene.

Helene, this is Salome.

Malia and Salome.

They sound like the saints
that some sick lifestyle sect would have.

Well, that's what your sisters are called.

Exactly.

Yes, I know. You would have
liked to be born into a world

where doors were open for you,
a paradise you could wander about in...

and now you've woken up
next to a 55-year-old dermatologist.

So, did you sleep well?

You look good.

You're a bit like Dr. Spellart.

Look. Could you tell me what these are?

I first noticed them a few days ago.

Yes, I don't know either.

Could I be alone with my sisters?

Sorry?

I'd like to have a moment
on my own with them.

-No.
-No. That is out of the question for us.

-Oh really?
-We don't trust you. Yes.

Someone's not pulling any punches.

What's happened, then, Dr. Derm?

-We went... She went...
-It's okay.

It's okay, Helene. We trust you.

It's just...

We want to be with the sweethearts.
You can do it another time.

-I think we should talk about...
-No.

-Okay, my little...
-She doesn't want to talk.

I'll kick your ass.

That meant, my father
is landing on a planet next week

with waving trees
and marbles that always say "sha-la-la."

-Sweetie, will you take this?
-What exactly does that mean?

-What?
-Well, the waving trees?

-Helene?
-Yes.

Wasn't your father meant
to pick you up on Friday?

-Yes, it's odd. I'll check if he's called.
-Yes.

Since when can marbles speak?

No idea. Since when can trees wave?

I'll call him.

Dad?

French didn't sound
like that when I was at school.

Au revoir.

-She has a good accent.
-Yes.

Le tracteur.

That could be someone
from the site to fix the boiler.

Lucky that we have some
who speaks French with us.

-Helene, we need to talk.
-Urgently.

-We want you to tell us the truth.
-The whole truth.

Who you are.

-We... we know that you don't speak
French. -Yeah.

And we also know that you're...

stealing from us.

And we also know
that you talk in your sleep at night.

What do I say?

No idea. You talk about
a Maike and some Jason Derulo.

Oh right.

-Are you crazy, Helene?
-What's wrong with you?

-We'll have to call the police...
-But...

But first we want to know why.

Why, Helene?

Our kids love you so much.

There's something I have to admit.

When I hacked
into the clinic's computer...

PATIENT FILE

I didn't look at the meal plans.

LAST NAME: VON WELS (UWEKNERT)
FIRST NAME: JANNO

I saw that your father
was the father that I'd always invented.

Institute of Astronautics, hello.

Hi, this isn't
the Institute of Astronautics.

Does the name von Wels
mean anything to you?

Isn't that a bit disrespectful?

Roland von Wels died in 2003,

along with Rick Husband,
William McCool, Kalpana Chawla,

Michael P. Anderson, David M. Brown,
Laurel Clarke, and Ilan Remon.

My name is Helene Sternberg.

My father is Roland von Wels.

He died in 2003 when Columbia crashed

along with Rick Husband, William McCool,
Kalpana Chawla, Michael P. Anderson,

David M. Brown,
Laurel Clarke, and... Ilan Remon.

Too bad, Helene.

What?

I know. I wanted to ask after his son.

Roland von Wels didn't have children.

He made it up.

You're my brother.
You're not the son of my made-up father.

You made up the same father as I did.

-Yes?
-Nothing... Well...

The Columbia?

How did that happen again?

Its heat shield
was damaged during take-off,

but nobody noticed.

And then
when the shuttle returned to Earth

and everyone prepared for landing,

the shuttle broke apart 38 miles
above Texas and decompressed.

Decompressed.

Yes, exactly.

-Thanks.
-You're welcome.

Okay, then...

Hey...

Haha.

No, please...

Okay, fine, please,
just do what you want to, then.

Okay, guys.

Who likes going to Qigong?

What do you think about us

all deciding not to go to Qigong today?

-At 2:15 pm?
-Exactly.

Until 3:45 pm?

So from 2:15 to 3:45 not going to Qigong?

But it's on the schedule.

Yes, on the schedule,
it says "2:15 Qigong."

Yes, we all know that.
She's suggesting that we don't go.

-Don't go?
-Yes.

-What would we do instead?
-I think she has a plan.

She is from the public health department.

I want each of us to write a letter.

-To whom?
-To yourself.

We each write a letter
to ourselves, and...

I'll collect them and when you least
expect it, I'll send the letters to you.

And I've got another idea.

-What are we doing?
-Come on.

-Is this legal?
-No, it's illegal.

Then we shouldn't do it.

-Shall we hand out our own pills?
-No, that's far too dangerous.

And come up with our own diagnoses,
invent names for our problems.

Decide for ourselves
what's a jacket and what's a feeling.

And say for ourselves
when we're too much or too little.

And decide for ourselves
whether we're healthy or sick.

And we can stuff
our mouths full of the nicest things,

so that our synapses sing
like The Kelly Family

and we don't give a shit
what global bodies say

or what that mouthy ferret Dr. Berg-Berth
officiously pre-diagnoses us with.

0-7-0-7.

Open it.

Wow.

"Breaking Bad", huh?

And now?

-No idea.
-Take something out.

-Really?
-Sure. Take something out, Helene.

That's mirtazapine.

It occupies binding sites in the brain

for the neurotransmitters
noradrenaline and serotonin.

-Feel free to take one.
-Really?

Just take one and see what happens.

Okay.

So?

Maybe not, after all.

How do you feel about that?

It makes me sad.

This is a very valuable moment, Helene.
Let's talk about it.

Why does it make you sad?

Perhaps because
there is no antagonistic entity?

Because we mean you no harm,
we forbid you nothing?

Because your anger
at the sciences, at the authorities

is only a jacket you wear
to hide your fear?

You know the code now.
You can take whatever you need.

The pills take six weeks to kick in.
You won't notice anything before then.

And some of them are placebos.
We're a progressive clinic.

We try to establish
how much we need to prescribe

and how much can remain
in the imagination.

You know what?

Do what you want.

Only when you really want what you need,

will we be able to work together.

From now on,
there are no more rules for you here.

With one exception.

The lives of the others are off limits.

Don't interfere in my cases.

No investigating, no spying,

no manipulating, nothing.

Hands off.

Otherwise...

do what you like.

So...

what you need to know
about Spellart and your mother

is that they love structure.

And they will love you.

As long as you're small and helpless.

And then, for as long as you listen,
and learn, and ask questions.

What is that?

Is that the moon?

What's the moon?

What is eczema?

Everything will be fine
for as long as you do that.

This was put in a splint.

It was broken.

Other things are rotten.

They're cut away.

And then there are things
that are infested with warts.

They...

are frozen off.

And some things are disturbed.

They receive therapy.

The basic idea is that everything
that is broken or crooked...

can be straightened.

Look what they're doing.

They're looking very closely at the body.

They're taking it apart and rewiring it.

Then it will work again.

They'll tell you that too,
as long as you understand one another.

Everything inside you,
we can take it all apart...

and rewire it.

Anything growing uncontrollably
can be cut out.

The question is,

who decides whether something is growing
uncontrollably and needs to be cut out?

If someone tells you
that something's wrong

come to me, okay?

I'll take that as a yes.

So...

What have you done?
Where did you take the children?

I showed them a heart.

That's just crazy talk.
My little munchkins.

I want you to stay away
from the children, do you understand?

I'm deadly serious.

If your mother won't cooperate,

I'll make sure
we get a court order, because...

you're...

-You're a dybbuk.
-A what?

A spirit.

The spirit of a dead person.

-It comes from Judaism.
-What do you have to do with Judaism?

I'm just interested, that's all.
Phenomenologically.

Supposing I were a spirit...

the spirit of a dead person...

what would you want from me?

For you to disappear.

Forever. From my life
and from my daughters' lives.

That would be difficult.
They're my sisters, after all.

And maybe I'll curse them.

Or I'll put a spell on them.

And then...

they'll imitate me
and move in with their big sister

in an unconventional shared house
with loads of...

untreated skin diseases.

-Just get lost. Once and for all.
-No chance.

I know what you did in the clinic,

and I'll tell your mother
when she's recovered.

And then you'll go
where you actually belong.

Should I come to your wedding first?

-That doesn't matter.
-Really?

Yes.

Then I'll see you in two weeks, Spellart.

-Good.
-Oh yes...

Don't forget,
whenever you close your eyes...

I'll be there.

Hi, Maike. So?

-Everything all right?
-Yes.

INSTITUTE OF ASTRONAUTICS

I was in your office, as we need
an update on the current status.

Aaric Skargan landed today.
A surprise visit.

We couldn't find anything.

What do you mean?

No presentation?

No documents? None of the stuff
you spoke about at the gala?

I've got all that on me.

God...

Okay, that's a relief.

Sorry, Helene.

I'm sorry for my pre-emptive mistrust.

Sometimes I'm still caught up
in our old co-dependency and I assume...

a mothering, controlling role.

Thanks.

Okay, you need to get here right away.

Aaric Skargan is in the meeting room.

You need to give your presentation now.