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My sweet...

this is the blessed spot where we first met 17 years ago.

All is as it was then,

except perhaps for the leopard.

Merciful nature no doubt released the prior one

from its beastly fetters.

I'm always speaking of merciful nature,

kind fate, and God's compassion.

We judge others...

reproaching them for this and that.

But what about ourselves?

I always feel I've done precious little for you three.

We're not badly off, Roman.

No, we're not.

But that's thanks to you...

and your dowry...

and the fact your blessed mother supported us.

And your aunt continues supporting us now.

I may have furnished the apartment...

but that's about all.

No, I must do more.

Zina is 16, Mili is 14.

Come now, children!

Cages are for dumb creatures.

I've thought of a way to increase my income.

I'll pay a third of my commission to an agent - Mr. Strauss.

He's a good and decent man.

I'll invite him to a party with our friends.

We're a beautiful and blessed family...

and I keep feeling I do so little for all of you.

THE CREMATOR

Based on the Novel by LADISLAV FUKS

Screenplay

Starring

Set Design, Makeup

Production Design

Editing

Sound

Music

Cinematography

Directed by

Don't serve even a drop of alcohol. Only tea.

Mr. Prachař is an unhappy man.

Of course, those willing to pay

may have weak coffee.

I didn't get a coffin meringue.

And smokers must do without.

An eternity without smoking or drinking awaits in the afterlife.

Please sit with this charming lady over here.

I still haven't gotten my coffin meringue.

Mr. Strauss, in your work you call on many confectioners.

That must be a pleasant occupation.

But in addition to your sweets,

why not offer those good people something...

of a different nature?

Not goods, but something addressing those good people personally.

Besides your sweets...

offer them a pamphlet and an application.

JOIN US! SAVE UP FOR CREMATION

Five crowns' commission for each applicant.

Now if you two will excuse me,

I see my friend Reinke, from the Great War, and his wife.

We fought together in the Austrian army.

A warm welcome!

It's been years. You must come by one day.

Look at your paunch!

The ladies haven't met. We must introduce them later.

Mr. Rybka.

Where have you brought me?

Weren't we going to a concert?

There's music here.

Are you crazy?

I meant a full orchestra. This is... how many players?

Four!

Well, the others will show up.

I'm sure you're fond of music, Mr. Strauss.

Sensitive people love music.

Ah, the poor souls who die

without knowing Schubert or Liszt.

Are you perhaps related to Johann Strauss? Or Richard?

The composer of Rosenkavalier.

Unfortunately not, Mr. Kopfrkingl...

but I'm fond of Strauss's music.

Is that right?

About these applications, Mr. Strauss.

There are people suffering, you know.

Animals too.

I have here a wonderful book on Tibet.

This is Potala...

the Dalai Lama's palace.

Lhasa...

It says the same thing as the Bible.

God did well when he said to man...

"Remember thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return."

Such a crematorium, dear friends,

is pleasing to the Lord,

helping him to hasten our transformation into dust.

Some people object...

saying Christ was buried, not cremated.

But that's quite another matter.

I always tell those good people that they embalmed Our Savior,

wrapped him in linen, and buried him in a cave.

But no one will bury you in a cave

or wrap you in linen.

You see, dear friends...

we live in a good and humanitarian state

that provides crematoria.

But they're not for idle visits

like to a museum.

They exist so that, after life's many tribulations,

people may lie down and turn quietly to dust.

I have a beautiful book here on Tibet.

Let's turn to page 38.

"Suffering is an evil we must eliminate...

"or at least alleviate.

"The sooner a person returns to dust,

"the sooner that person will be liberated, transformed...

"enlightened...

"reincarnated."

The same goes for animals.

It takes 20 years in the ground, but 75 minutes in the crematorium.

So, dear friends...

here's to the happiness of all humanity!

Now, dear friends, enjoy the pleasant, beautiful music,

dancing...

and refreshments, and may no one be left out.

If you'll excuse me.

Good-bye.

A pleasant and witty gentleman.

How that man has suffered!

He lost his job as a porter due to liver problems.

Or was it kidneys?

Something to do with urine.

Then he lost his wife and son. Didn't you like that?

I can increase his commission on the grounds he's been successful.

He's a good businessman. He's a Jew.

You think so, dear?

Strauss isn't a Jewish name.

Names mean nothing.

You call me Lakmé instead of Marie.

And you ask me to call you Roman instead of Karel.

Because I'm a romantic, and I love beauty, my dear.

This one here.

And that noble face there.

We're framing this for the Japanese embassy.

No.

That's the one.

This is Emiliano Chamorro, president of Nicaragua.

It's actually Louis Marin, the French comptroller general.

Poincaré's pension minister.

But it says here

it's the president of Nicaragua -

- Never mind that, Mr...? - Holý.

- Excuse me? - Holý.

Don't worry about it, Mr. Holý.

Just cover that with some tape.

And one other thing.

This is the cremation law of December 7, 1921.

Could you please frame it

with a nice funereal pattern for a border?

Ah, here we go.

I was thinking of something more cheerful.

My heavenly one, I bought you some pictures

with my first increase in income.

To make our home even more splendid.

Zina's practising.

She's a gifted child.

Is Mili not home?

He's with Jan...

Dr. Bettelheim's nephew.

At least he's not wandering about.

Jan's a good and decent boy

who never wanders further than the bridge.

Who's that?

The president of Nicaragua.

We'll put him...

I think we can hang him over here.

Where shall we hang this one?

In the bathroom.

You know, my dears...

I think the bathroom is our most attractive room.

But perhaps flowers would look better here.

Or a hunting scene...

chasing a deer.

How is our enchantress?

Look here.

Don't let the poor animal suffer so.

Would you like some milk too?

Then give it to our little enchantress.

It's yesterday's milk anyway.

Help yourselves.

May I?

"Statistics indicate married men in Prague live longer."

We're lucky, Walter.

We must thank our dear wives.

If not for them...

we'd die younger.

Walter, when I remember

how we were soldiers in the Great War...

how we fought and died...

what our poor horses suffered...

it's unbelievable.

In this world there should be peace...

justice...

and happiness.

Those things don't fall from the sky. We must fight for them.

Look at Austria.

Its annexation to the Reich is just the first step.

The Führer is a political genius.

He's liberating a nation of 100 million...

from poverty, misery, and unemployment.

Have you seen our party's flyers?

That's the former French pension minister...

Louis Marin.

I bought his portrait in Mr. Holý's framing shop.

Mr. Holý is a widower.

Certainly, but our nation suffered a great injustice after the war,

and it's the duty of everyone with German blood to set it right.

COME JOIN US

Have some almonds.

You're more interested in how some groom at his silver anniversary

fell into boiling water, aren't you?

These things are tragedies, dear Erna.

Mr. Strauss was forced to retire.

Then he lost his wife and son

to consumption.

What can I say?

Our children attend Czech schools.

We speak only Czech at home, like now.

And I have only Czech books.

Even my book on Tibet is in Czech.

Even our blood...

is Czech.

Look closely and you'll find you have

at least a drop of German blood.

Perhaps.

A drop, perhaps.

A sensitive person will feel

even that one drop.

I'm meeting with Görmann at the casino at 8:00.

He's off to Berlin to meet with the minister.

This republic stands in the way of our salvation,

but that would take too long to explain to you.

I wanted to tell you about two girls born sharing one body...

two heads, and four hands and legs.

Poor little girls, living a doubly blessed life.

- Where were you, Mili? - Just watching the cars with Jan.

Pity you weren't around. You missed an interesting discussion.

Mr. Reinke had to go to high school too before becoming an engineer.

Now he's meeting a Mr. Görmann, and your German is still so poor.

I know we all speak Czech, but you should learn some German.

It's a nation of 100 million.

Mr. Strauss!

Go on.

See how the poor man is applying himself?

Good day.

Welcome, Mr. Dvořák. Come along, and don't worry.

I'll be gentle as I show you the ropes.

- This is the porter, Mr. Vrána. - Good day.

Poor man has liver problems.

I've been passing by Mr. Vrána

and entering this temple of death for 15 years,

yet a sacred feeling still envelops me every time.

It's like my marriage.

I've been with my wife Lakmé for 17 years,

and it's still as wonderful

as the first time we met by the leopard's cage.

Come along, Mr. Dvořák. Don't be afraid.

You've chosen a beautiful and noble profession...

but one with great responsibility.

Good day.

That's Mr. Fenek, a morphine addict.

The Allies are forcing a settlement on us. I'm worried.

Don't worry. Everything will be all right.

Though I myself may have a drop of German blood.

No one can help his origins.

No work coat, Mr. Dvořák?

No matter. We'll find you something.

Mrs. Lišková, will you come on the tour with us?

You've never seen our setup down below.

I don't need to see it to do my cleaning.

Well, come along, Mr. Dvořák.

May I smoke?

Of course, if it makes you feel better.

No, thank you. I don't smoke or drink.

I practice abstinence.

This speaker is here so we can hear the ceremony above.

You'll hear beautiful music everywhere. Do you like music?

Mr. Dvořák!

Sensitive people love music.

I enjoy it very much.

That's just Mrs. Lešetínská warming up.

This operates the catafalque.

Above is the world of the survivors, so to speak.

For us down here, our work is just beginning.

The furnaces always remind me

of the ovens in which our daily bread is baked.

That's our timetable.

A sort of timetable of death no one can escape,

unless they wish to be buried in the ground.

Come along.

There are two furnaces.

Now that we've switched to gas,

bodies are turned to ash in 75 minutes.

We have a break at noon.

If it's nice out,

you can get some fresh air in the cemetery.

You can look inside through these little windows.

There's nothing to see at the moment...

but no doubt you'll get a chance

during some nice cremation.

Go on.

The ashes are placed in these metal cylinders...

and tamped down with this.

But the soul's no longer there. It has passed into the ether.

Freed from the bonds of suffering, liberated and cleansed...

it travels to its next body.

These coffins are scheduled for this afternoon.

The first to be cremated is already up in the hall...

so mourners can say their good-byes.

But not all coffins go up to the hall.

These are not to be opened.

They're already nailed shut.

Leave it there, right where it was.

We may need it sometime.

We'll be cremating Miss Strunná in this coffin.

Would you be so kind?

There she is.

I already saw her yesterday.

Her complexion is remarkably rosy.

Looks almost alive, doesn't she?

As if she might open her eyes...

and sit up.

Perhaps you even wonder if she's really dead.

But you'd be wrong to think that.

This woman has been pronounced dead...

and as such it's our duty

to incinerate her after the ceremony.

If she were alive...

that would be a great misfortune for her...

with her whole life before her.

She'd be fortunate only if her life were full of suffering.

Suffering is a great evil,

and we must do all we can to alleviate it.

But don't worry.

Miss Strunná is very likely...

truly dead.

Such mistakes are rare nowadays.

How beautiful!

How wonderful, my angels.

Look.

Too bad they're not artificial. They'd bloom even in the snow.

Poor Mr. Dvořák is so nervous. He smokes nonstop.

Mili, come here. Stop wandering off.

What amazing acrobatics!

No, I have something much better for you.

- What's that? - No need to be scared.

This is the mass murderer, Laget.

He committed murder every day and every night.

It's so real, like at the theater.

Don't be an idiot!

They're wax figures!

It's a wax museum!

And now let's look in on some baths.

Lights.

- Will there be water and steam? - Shut up!

It's a wax museum.

We're in the St. Francis Baths, near the ratcatcher's dwelling.

Patrons come here to bathe and make themselves beautiful.

This woman has a bath

and smiles warmly at her young host.

Then, as she sits in her bath,

the young scoundrel kills her.

Old-fashioned baths.

Our bathroom at home is much nicer.

She looks like our dairy woman.

Quiet! You're not at the dairy.

Lights out.

This man hanged himself because he had the plague...

a contagious disease.

He died rather than contaminate others.

His body hangs here on this hook, never to be revived.

- He looks alive! - He's dead. Hanged.

This hapless young man was killed by the murderous Mr. Moore.

It only took a minute with this iron rod.

Moore looked quite innocent, with blue eyes and pink cheeks.

He killed six and ended up on the gallows.

There he is!

- I knew it! - Get going! March!

I can't even take you to a waxworks! You idiot!

This way, please.

Our wax dwarf, Vítek, points the way out.

He's real!

For ladies and children, the show is over.

But for gentlemen with strong nerves,

we have a special exhibit.

This way.

Here you see different diseases,

like syphilis and gonorrhea,

all of them contagious.

What a scourge.

Another thing one can die of.

Yes.

But modern medical science...

can protect us from all this.

For example...

the good and kind Dr. Bettelheim...

who lives in our building.

Do you still think these tests are necessary, Mr. Kopfrkingl?

You know I associate with no other women but my own angel.

I'm afraid you'll think I'm a hypochondriac...

but I fear infection from the crematorium.

You don't come in contact with the dead there.

Infection is impossible.

I'm glad you live right above us

and that Mili is friends with your nephew.

Mili likes to wander off,

and that's dangerous these days.

A state of emergency has been declared in the borderlands.

That could mean suffering for many.

Violence never works for anyone.

It's an unreliable basis for power.

We're living in Europe, in the 20th century...

in the civilized world.

Aggressors are always defeated in the end.

Well, Mr. Kopfrkingl, if you think it necessary,

come see me again.

This way.

Mr. Kopfrkingl.

Look at this.

Fruit flies.

Used for experiments in heredity. Two hundred varieties.

This is Drosophila funebris...

the funeral fly.

Would you like them?

You can have them cheap. Just a bit of morphine.

Very decorative. And these flies do interest me.

We have a butterfly pinned up in our bathroom.

But where would I get morphine?

I don't even smoke cigarettes.

But you know that chemical engineer, that Mr. -

Mr. Reinke is not in Prague.

Mobilization is underway. He's out in the field.

Then when he returns.

I still have a bit left.

I came in early today so I could see you.

You have better things to see.

How long have you lived like this?

Is this the meaning of your life?

To clean here every morning?

Times are dangerous. Mobilization is underway.

You should have someone to cling to, someone to protect you.

Let's talk it over tonight.

What's going on?

I startled Mrs. Lišková.

Mr. Kopfrkingl, a crematorium is no place

for fooling around.

You're right. Times are bad.

I wanted to talk to her, perhaps invite her to our place...

to cheer her up.

Poor woman. Perhaps another time.

What a surprise! Please come in, Mr. Kopfrkingl.

MISS IRIS'S MASSAGE PARLOR

How nice and thoughtful!

I bought this for Zina.

Your young lady is with a client just now.

Perhaps you'd like someone else.

They all say how polite you are.

You'd have to wait a bit for Miss Dagmar.

It's a pity you only visit the first Thursday of each month.

Perhaps you could honour us with your presence more often?

Yes, perhaps I should.

My income is larger now.

I have an agent.

And it's good for the health.

Ah, Miss Dagmar!

You see? It wasn't so long after all.

Hello. Good-bye, ma'am.

Here you are.

I've been waiting all month for you.

I'll just tidy up a bit.

I don't want this present for Zina to get crushed.

We have a new young man at the furnaces...

a Mr. Dvořák.

He works with the coffins too.

At first he smoked nonstop.

Now he's calmed down a bit.

Thank God he doesn't smoke as much now.

Mr. Strauss is quite successful with the applications.

People in the confectionery business are pleasant...

kind...

and good.

Come over here.

I want to take on another agent,

a travelling salesman in toys or cosmetics.

Either would be suitable.

I must look after my family, Miss Dagmar.

We have a beautiful and blessed home.

I must take even better care of you three.

I want to take on another agent.

Mr. Dvořák is smoking less.

But I told you that, didn't I?

Lakmé, you seem sad lately.

Is something bothering you?

Are you worried about something?

Our beloved daughter's birthday is approaching.

I bought her a ready-to-wear outfit.

What about this boyfriend of hers, this Kája?

Let's hope he's a family man like me.

Even this plant died here.

Everything dies here.

And Mrs. Lišková is leaving us.

She never got used to it here.

Mrs. Lišková, why so suddenly?

I'm sorry to hear it.

Now I can't invite you anywhere.

We're so busy these days.

And now the German army is at our border.

And Mr. Vrána can't even light the torches.

Why so worked up?

Why would they occupy us? Violence never works for anyone.

We're living in Europe, in the 20th century.

When is Miss Čárská's turn today?

She's seventh.

The first afternoon cremation.

She won't have to wait.

Poor Miss Čárská.

She was about to be married.

I must go see if she's all ready.

Mr. Kopfrkingl!

Sorry to bother you...

but do you have the morphine?

I told you: Mr. Reinke isn't in Prague.

You must be patient.

How can you think about morphine

with foreign troops at our border?

There's a conference going on. There may be war.

And Miss Čárská...

was about to be married.

How terrible it is...

to lose so many dear ones in their prime.

Frost has withered the flowers on their glowing cheeks...

and the black angel of death

has done his work.

An educated speaker.

Dvořák's "Largo," Mr. Dvořák.

In 75 minutes, Miss Čárská...

will be turned to ashes and fill her urn.

But not her soul.

That doesn't go in the urn.

It will be liberated. "Reincarnated," as the Tibetans say.

It will rise up into the ether.

Mr. Dvořák, premature death...

is a great blessing only if it liberates a person...

from great suffering.

I want out too.

Sometimes I think...

I'd rather work in the boiler room.

Mr. Dvořák, what's the matter?

You've gotten over your nervousness.

I was just telling my beloved you're smoking less.

The boiler room would be a demotion.

Help yourselves, dear children.

Kája... young ladies.

Vojtík.

Great things are happening

now that the Germans have occupied our borderlands.

Beautiful music.

Let's see what the papers say.

CHERRY BOMBS, ROCKETS, FIREWORKS!

Mili, you get all sorts of ideas.

Never put a cherry bomb in your mouth.

You understand?

You could be maimed for life.

My dear Kája, would you take a picture?

A photograph is like preserving the present moment

in a can for all eternity.

Pictures are taken at the crematorium too,

but without the funny faces.

People buy them as souvenirs. I mean the survivors, of course.

Has anyone ever woken up in the coffin?

No, my dear Kája.

That has never happened.

Not even Miss Čárská,

though she wasn't even 30

and was about to be married.

I read that someone did wake up in the coffin.

Then only because the person wasn't truly dead.

But no one comes back to life after 75 minutes in the furnace.

In some humanitarian lands...

they even cremate their animals.

You too will be cremated, my enchantress.

This present form you're in -

One day you won't recognize yourself.

Cremation is quite humane...

and frees people

from the fear of death.

Dear children...

you really mustn't fear cremation.

Zina, would you play something for our distinguished guests?

Perhaps Mahler's Songs for Dead Children.

Or perhaps something more cheerful,

like Saint-Saëns' Danse macabre.

Mili and I are going to a boxing match next Wednesday.

My enchantress almost forgot to convey the invitation.

You've never seen a boxing match. Neither have I, actually.

I think it's a brutal sport.

So I'm looking forward to it.

One, two...

For once you'll watch a manly sport.

- I've always found it rather brutal. - That's good!

We need brave men.

Boxing is a fighting sport. Man against man.

Why did I ever agree to this?

Excuse us.

We always have to be late!

These are our seats! Move!

That pale woman by the door...

looks like someone I saw in a bar.

- Look at that! - Quiet!

- He'll break his leg! - Shut up!

My beloved almost forgot about the tickets and your invitation.

Will there be blood?

Maybe, but not usually.

Wipe your glasses. You'll ruin your eyes.

They'll knock each other's teeth out!

- Are they dancing? - This isn't a dance hall!

They'll knock that man down.

That's the referee.

Watch the two in the boxer shorts.

One guy is with United. The other is a butcher's apprentice.

A butcher! There will be blood!

This isn't a slaughterhouse. Just shut up and watch!

You were wrong! He's fallen down!

He got in their way! Sit down and shut up!

This is a slaughterhouse! All the blood!

You said it was a boxing match!

Go on, get out!

She's crazy! It's her first boxing match!

I can't take you anywhere!

...three, four, five...

...nine, ten.

Was the apprentice dead, Daddy?

Nothing is certain in life but death.

BOXING - COME JOIN US! WE'LL MAKE AN ATHLETE OF YOU

Our Christmas this year...

is truly blessed.

My beloved, you look radiant.

What if I hang you up among the other angels...

and all that beauty?

Children, don't make them suffer.

Mrs. Anežka is coming to kill them for us.

Why is she doing it?

Don't you know how?

Of course, but I don't enjoy it.

Mrs. Anežka is used to it.

She's a good old soul.

Come, children. That's not something to watch.

Leave Roxana here.

Our little angel will enjoy the guts.

One carp is now probably dead...

if Mrs. Anežka hit it just right.

Its soul is now in the ether.

Now the other one is dead too.

Those look like their souls...

and you can play with them.

But those aren't true carp souls. They're the bladders.

Their real souls may be reincarnated by now...

as cats, perhaps.

Perhaps we've eaten our enchantress before in the form of a carp.

Perhaps we'll eat her again someday in the form of...

something or other.

But Mr. Reinke is stopping by before dinner.

Nice tree. Are you having carp?

Two of them.

My beloved is frying them now on our little stove.

Her blessed mother prepared them in sweet jelly, foreign-style.

- We make them the Czech way. - Carp?

That's well and good. But don't you feel our blood?

We're fighting for a noble cause...

and you're frying carp Czech-style?

I always thought you were against violence...

in favour of justice, salvation, and the common good.

This republic is a fortress for our enemies.

This is a humanitarian state...

with good laws, like the law on cremation.

We'll establish a higher universal code, a new world order.

That's our destiny.

You're an honest, sensitive, responsible man.

You're strong and brave, a pure Germanic soul.

Karel, this will be a test of your will and courage.

On March 6, the Jewish community will hold a celebration.

A party or concert or something.

Get yourself invited...

perhaps by that old Jew Bettelheim,

who built his practice on syphilis and herpes.

Listen to what they talk about,

what their mood is.

It's a way to help these poor, wretched Jews.

And how will it help them?

They're a poor, unhappy people who don't understand a thing.

They're fighting our Führer because they don't know what they're doing.

They're a misguided people who understand nothing.

You can help them...

by finding out what they're saying, what they're thinking.

No almonds for Walter, dear. We'll join you later.

I brought you an application to join the Party.

Become a member. There's still time.

Well, I must be going.

Erna and I are spending Christmas Eve at the casino on Růžová Street.

We usually don't take the wives there, of course.

Tonight's an exception.

They have some excellent hostesses there.

All pretty blondes.

Have a look.

Only Party members are allowed inside.

Our compatriots.

MOTHER TONGUE

"I declare I am not of Jewish race or religion."

Only blondes, no brunettes?

I'll have to get used to that.

Now it's truly Christmas.

We're lighting candles at home for once.

We light candles at the crematorium all the time, of course.

I wonder what the Bettelheims are doing.

Do they celebrate Christmas like us,

even though they're Jewish?

That poor soul has plenty of money. He lives off the misfortune of others.

It's Christmas Eve, my darlings, and the temple of death is idle.

There are no cremations today, just like Saturday afternoons.

But there really should be,

so as many souls as possible could be freed, liberated,

rise into space, find new bodies.

Christmas Eve should be kind to the dead too.

At least the carp reap some benefit.

I'll have a symbolic glass only.

I practice abstinence.

The Germans don't drink either.

They're a humane people. They too have a law on cremation.

A great future awaits them.

It's too bad.

I hope we too belong to the chosen people

that will establish a universal moral code.

Blood is blood.

It can't be denied.

Do you still think this is necessary, Mr. Kopfrkingl?

Doctor, could you tell me how my blood is?

I'm sure the results are negative, as always.

I don't mean that.

I mean what kind of blood is it?

Czech blood...

or German blood?

That's impossible to determine.

Then at least if it's Slavic or Germanic?

There's no difference in blood.

Just like with human ashes.

You yourself say human ashes are all the same,

whether from a Frenchman or a Spaniard...

a doctor or an office worker. It's all the same.

Doctor, won't the Jewish community be having...

some sort of celebration...

with beautiful songs?

You mean the Chevra seudah.

The communal dinner at the funeral society.

I'm afraid it won't be as nice this year.

Would you like to see it?

At the funeral society?

What a wonderful tremolo.

They called the Führer a scoundrel and a rogue?

The singing is beautiful.

Sad.

They said Party members would be liquidated?

Yes, there was a crowd talking and eating.

And that cantor, those high notes...

So they said they'd destroy Germany and seize power?

Seize power... yes.

And the singing was so soft, so mournful.

They said they'd bury Germany? The Reich?

Yes, yes.

It was all like some solemn burial.

Yes, you're right.

But it's like paradise here.

And no one's suffering here.

Soon we'll end all suffering everywhere: Warsaw, Paris,

London, New York.

Just like we already liberated the Czech lands and Moravia.

Not even horses will suffer.

The Reich's forces are mechanized.

Did you see any horses in the occupation of Prague?

It's all mechanized and automated...

just like your crematorium.

The Führer will create a paradise.

Good evening.

- We have to drink to our victory! - Sit down.

Cheers!

I don't drink.

Or smoke.

Today's an exception.

I'll remember March 15 for the rest of my life!

Perhaps just a symbolic glass.

But we have enemies, Karel.

Including at your crematorium.

We're counting on you.

You're our only man there...

and a Party member too.

What's the situation there?

Some people there...

just don't understand.

Like Zajíc...

Fenek...

Beran...

Podzimková...

Pelikán...

or Vrána, the porter.

He works out in front. He has liver problems.

Still, he's a staunch enemy of the Reich.

Or Lišková.

She's no longer there, but it's easy to find her address.

And the director...

of my temple of death...

the director...

doesn't have the right attitude toward the Reich either.

"I'd incinerate all the Germans in these furnaces," he said once.

I'm not sure he should go on being director.

We'll give that some thought.

And what about your poor unhappy Jews?

You even employ two of them.

I don't know... Mr. Strauss...

He's a decent, honest man.

He loves music, works hard.

Though perhaps only for the money.

He told me he doesn't agree with the Germans.

Dr. Bettelheim...

He's a good man...

but he doesn't understand either.

I'm afraid he's even infected his nephew, Jan.

A young boy.

I don't like him. He leads Mili to wander off.

Their housekeeper, Anežka.

She's not a Jew. She's a good old soul.

She kills our carp at Christmas, since I won't.

But she's probably infected too.

I don't believe Jews can be reeducated.

They're a sad, wandering people.

Sad like the music you mentioned.

You know, the Spartans killed their weak offspring.

Some might think it cruel,

but it was actually a good thing,

especially for the children, who'd only have been miserable.

But above all it was healthy for the nation.

Karel...

your wife Marie's mother prepared fish in sweet jelly, right?

"Foreign-style," as you yourself called it.

Did you know that's the Jewish way?

Your Lakmé's mother was in fact a Jew.

Your dark-haired Lakmé told me once,

when I mentioned your German blood, that you speak only Czech at home.

She hid my invitation to the boxing match from you.

She wasn't happy about you joining the Party.

I wonder what she'll say

when you send your kids to a German school.

You can see her bad influence on Mili.

The boy's soft and effeminate.

That's how they work: secretively.

They start with families, with the children.

How long have you been married, Mr. Kopfrkingl?

Our blessed marriage has lasted 19 years.

We met at the zoo...

by the leopard's cage in the predators' pavilion.

We must make sacrifices, Mr. Kopfrkingl.

Given the circumstances, you couldn't occupy higher posts.

But there's no difference in blood.

Even Dr. Bettelheim says so.

There's a tremendous difference!

Pure blood is a fundamental requirement.

There's no place for inferior blood in the new, just order.

Isn't your Dr. Bettelheim a Jew?

Your Lakmé should understand she's unfit to live with you,

that it's incompatible with your honour

as an honest and healthy man.

Many hardships await her.

I couldn't come earlier, Mr. Director.

I had to attend meetings I hadn't anticipated.

That's unlike you, Mr. Kopfrkingl,

but in these times, everything's changing so quickly.

Certain personal changes are only to be expected.

You hardly ever smoke these days, Mr. Dvořák.

Mr. Pelikán, you can take this beauty up to the hall now.

I believe the young lady is sufficiently prepared.

What about that morphine?

I'll give you nothing, for your own sake.

I won't have you on my conscience.

I'm an honorable and healthy man.

If you don't stop pestering me, I'll call the police.

Morphine addiction is a vice, incompatible with human honour.

Not another word or it's off to an asylum.

Mr. Vrána, can't you see the torches have gone out?

So they arrested Mr. Beran...

Zajíc, and the director.

Well, what can you do?

Poor Mr. Fenek asked about morphine again.

He's an effeminate, broken-down man.

Then there's Mr. Prachař and his drinking.

And his son, Vojta, the poor soul.

Who else is left?

That's the butcher's apprentice. The boxer.

How did you get this? You know him?

I've gone twice to the Youth Club where they practice.

The flyer said, "Come join us!"

It's great that you're friends with a boxer.

You must be tough and brave.

You have my German blood, right?

After summer break, you'll go to a German high school.

Yes, better to be friends with a boxer

than with Jan Bettelheim.

What does this boxer tell you?

What do you talk about?

He says he has to train hard and get strong

so he can punch the Germans...

"right in the kisser."

Mili, that's all wrong!

But go along now with Zina to visit Auntie.

When you get back...

I'll explain everything.

Go away now.

Now that we're alone...

why don't you get dressed up?

We'll have ourselves a nice little feast.

Put on your pretty black dress.

You've only worn it a few times.

Later we'll bathe in our beautiful bathroom...

as befits a Roman-style feast.

I'm being promoted to director.

And isn't this the anniversary of our heavenly wedding?

Or at least of our first blissful meeting

by the leopard's cage at the zoo?

No? Let's just say it is.

You hear?

Didn't you enjoy it?

One should savor every day of one's life...

as if it were the last.

The whole world lies open before us.

The heavens lie open before us...

the heavens unobscured by even the tiniest cloud these past 19 years.

But I did notice that the ventilator in the bathroom is broken.

We'll have it fixed tomorrow.

For now, I've hung a rope from it

so you can stand on a chair to turn it on.

Hear that beautiful singing?

How true it is that they die impoverished...

who die unaware of music's beauty.

You at least loved music.

Come, my indescribable one.

Let's run our bath.

Won't you be too hot?

Switch the ventilator on, my dear.

What if I hang you, my dear?

May I speak with Mr. Kopfrkingl, the director?

Please have a seat.

Excuse me. I was just reading.

May I offer you something? Cognac? Czech slivovitz?

Thank you, but I don't drink alcohol. I practice abstinence.

I don't smoke either.

Kushog... our Dalai Lama is dead.

For years our blessed homeland of Tibet has sought the great man

in whom Buddha, our savior, has been reincarnated.

Finally, after years of searching, we've found him.

The throne in Lhasa awaits you, Rinpoche.

I will come for you.

Then we'll go to the Himalayas...

our blessed, heavenly homeland.

For me it is sad indeed...

that the first funeral at which I officiate

as newly appointed director of this noble temple of death...

should be that of my own heavenly wife.

Nineteen years of happy, spotless marriage...

ended with her tragic death.

Yet it's true that death...

can be a great blessing.

A great blessing...

when it spares us great suffering.

It can save us from terrors...

and woes...

that might await us...

later in life.

This is the last time!

You will return whence you came.

Your soul will be liberated...

and soar into the ether.

Dear friends, the Germans of old...

cremated their dead too...

entrusting them to the flames.

I say farewell, my angel...

as director of this crematorium

and as your loving husband.

But we must make sacrifices.

Nothing is certain in life but death...

and the fact a happy new order is to be established in Europe!

The Führer's happy new Europe...

and death!

These are the only two certainties

we have as human beings!

The flames can't hurt you now, my sweet.

There.

I also asked Mr. Vrána to retire...

the porter.

He was getting old.

And Mrs. Podzimková, the cleaning lady.

She once told me the furnaces scared her,

so at least I liberated her from that fear.

I'll keep the others on for now.

But Mili worries me.

He's growing more and more effeminate.

He's never taken after me.

Hedvika, hand me the soap.

His mother was half Jewish.

It seems to be coming out now.

Good evening. Don't let us disturb you.

Good evening.

Mili is a mischling of the second degree.

Under Reich law, he's one-quarter Jewish.

I'm afraid no high school will have him...

let alone the Hitler Youth.

He's always wandering off.

I think he wants to be a soldier.

There's a threat of war now.

He may join up out of a sense of adventure.

Children are a constant worry.

Today is Saturday.

No cremations today at my temple of death.

But you can at least have a good look...

at where your father started out 20 years ago.

Where are you going, Mili?

Just out.

For a stroll in this nice weather, so he doesn't wander off.

We live in epoch-making times.

We must bravely bear...

all our worries and fears.

Your heavenly mother...

I wonder what she was reincarnated as.

You want a cream wreath or a coffin meringue?

Both, I guess.

Just have a cream wreath. You'll ruin your dinner.

The back way through the cemetery is nicer.

Before I became director,

I'd take walks here on my lunch break.

Not another word!

This isn't an amusement park!

You know what a cemetery is?

She's crazy! She thinks she's at the fair!

Wait for me or I'll kill you!

Don't mind them.

Did you enjoy your cream wreath?

That's good.

One shouldn't profane a sacred place.

That's not for you, Mili.

Look at that beautiful grave marker!

See there?

The memorial torches.

They had them in Sparta.

They've been burning since we hired new people.

They kept going out before.

But they're not burning!

Come along.

Here's where people are turned to dust.

Don't tell me you're frightened.

I'm here with you.

Mr. Dvořák!

This is our preparation room.

That coffin's nailed shut because no viewing is planned.

On Monday it goes up to the hall, then straight into the furnace.

Inside lies a brave German of pure blood.

He's no weak, effeminate soul...

but one of pure origin.

Wipe your glasses. You'll ruin your eyes.

Mr. Dvořák wanted to get rid of this rod,

but I said we'd need it sometime.

There's no difference between human ashes.

What if I put you in with him, Mili?

Daddy.

Rinpoche, it's time.

The throne awaits you.

Tibet, our blessed land, awaits its ruler.

The wall obscuring your vision has fallen.

The heavens have opened.

There are stars above us.

You will save the world.

You are the Buddha.

Yes...

the heavens have opened.

Above us are endless stars.

Lags-so.

Just like I read for many years

in David-Néel's book on Tibet:

"May all beings be liberated from the suffering that may await them."

There's one more good soul I must save...

one more soul to save...

from the suffering that would await her...

in the happy new paradise on earth.

Wait till next Saturday evening...

my son.

That's right, Mr. Kopfrkingl.

We must conduct certain experiments -

But all this is a secret.

You have 20 years' experience.

You could be technical supervisor

on the gas furnaces of the future.

But this calls for absolute secrecy.

It's a secret.

I understand, of course.

Equipment to quickly incinerate

the greatest possible number of souls...

to free as many souls as possible

from the fetters of this earthly existence...

so they may rise up into space...

and dissolve into the ether.

I think it's a tremendous opportunity...

because our current crematoria take 75 minutes,

with one body per furnace.

You know...

if there were enormous furnaces...

holding a hundred...

or 500... or 1,000...

it could all be done in 10 minutes.

Huge installations in continuous operation.

The savings would be enormous.

Hundreds of bodies fed in one end

and ashes pouring out the other.

Mixed together, true,

but there's no difference between ashes anyway.

And liberated souls would fly out the top.

All humankind, the entire world, could be liberated quickly.

Poor Mr. Prachař... Vojtík.

What a blessing it would be for the Bettelheims...

and the many souls at the Jewish celebration.

If I could give them hope

of freedom from suffering, of liberation...

and tell them they'd be reincarnated!

Mr. Kopfrkingl!

You must be overworked.

You know, it wouldn't really matter if someone weren't quite dead.

With furnaces holding thousands, in continuous operation,

no one would come out alive.

But this is a secret.

It calls for absolutely secrecy.

Yes, a secret, calling for...

absolute secrecy.

I've been put in charge of a great enterprise.

I'm done here at my little temple of death.

At least you'll see it one last time.

Still no word from Mili.

He probably wandered off further this time,

or they'd have found him by now.

- Where are you going, Zina? - Ah, Kája!

Call another time, will you? I'm showing Zina something.

Shall I call next week?

That will be fine.

Do you have your camera?

No? It's such nice weather.

A picture would be an eternal memory.

No one will suffer here anymore.

I'm preparing a huge facility.

Let's go through the cemetery.

The back way is nicer.

I always walked here on my lunch breaks.

This may be the last time.

Excuse me.

My wife ran off here a week ago. Have you seen her?

You saw us here, remember? You haven't seen her?

A boy was with you.

It's been a week.

Perhaps the fool will turn up on her own.

You can see where your father began and worked for 20 years.

How disgraceful in a sacred place.

Don't look. Look at that beautiful grave marker.

Here's where people are transformed into dust.

But it's all too slow here.

I'll set up something bigger...

and faster.

This is the preparation room.

This coffin's nailed shut because no viewing is planned.

It goes straight into the furnace on Monday.

No, that might not be proper.

She was a piano teacher. That might be more appropriate.

Mr. Dvořák wanted to get rid of that rod,

but I told him we'd need it sometime.

No, Daddy!

No!

We must go.

The wall surrounding us has fallen.

There are stars before us...

infinite light.

Now you will save the world.

The nation awaits you, Rinpoche.

All of humankind.

I'm glad you've come.

I shall join you shortly.

I shall ascend the throne.

But there's still my poor daughter.

The unfortunate girl is a quarter Jewish.

I haven't yet saved her.

I haven't yet rescued her.

Don't worry. We'll take care of her.

We'll see to it personally.

You have work to do, Mr. Kopfrkingl.

Much work.

For the nation. For humankind.

No one will suffer. I shall save them all.

I shall save them all.

The whole world.

THE END