All language subtitles for neskinn [1964]

No thanks, not now, darling.
We're soon finished.

The rest is mine.

Right. We ended up
with a redoubled undertrick.

- 400 for us.
- Those two are in constant luck.

In card games, there is no such thing as
constant luck. All distribution is random.

At least it was luck that Strand played
towards Nordberg's king of clubs.

Weird. I played the jack of clover
without knowing why.

Because I wanted you to.

- You mean, telepathy?
- Yes.

Telepathy?
A nice term for chance.

But isn't science about to acknowledge
thought transference, Dr. Kahrs?

The journalist stirs.

It's fashionable to believe in ghosts,

even among some
of my colleagues, unfortunately.

- But parapsychology...
- A modern word for superstition.

No, thank you.

But as a scientist,
surely you would check...

For years I have examined
these parapsychological phenomena.

Always with the same result:
Sheer deceit.

Maybe that's fortunate. If such hidden
forces would exist, the world would be...

So unpredictable.
Yes, I say this as a businessman.

And if such hidden forces would not
exist, the world would be so obvious.

And I say this as a poet.

A poet is free to
turn the world upside down.

- Otherwise he wouldn't be a poet.
- That's what's wrong with you scientists.

You believe too little.
Yes, you are... substitious.

Substitious.
Exactly.

Maybe the poet has had
supernatural experiences?

We have all been struck
by the horn of the unicorn.

If we don't know, it's because
we don't want to know...

Or don't dare to know. Because
we are scared of the psychiatrist.

What was your experience?
A haunted house?

Tell us.

I have experienced the weirdest
of all haunted houses: Man himself.

Once upon a time...
Yes, this story goes a long way back.

It begins on a December night in 1802.
At the manor house Hvidvang, -

- where chamberlain Hamel and his
young Greek wife Daphne resided.

What a beautiful old book. Do you
also have incunables, Mr. Hamel?

You should rather show them
your new acquisition, Thomas.

Cyprianus.
What a beautiful exemplar.

Cyprianus...

Isn't Mr. Berle interested?

I am interested
in everything beautiful, madame.

But medieval magic
does not impress me.

Our age produces
much greater miracles.

- Miracles, Mr. Berle?
- Yes.

How can a witch on a broom compete
with the flywheel in a steam engine?

We live in
the most enlightened of all ages.

But what gives us the right to depreciate
the so-called "superstition" of the past?

Have we ever tried out
the old methods?

The chamberlain's pretty wife
can bewitch us much more -

- than his Cyprianus is able to.

This is an amusing recipe:
"To make oneself invisible."

"Take a spider's web and a dead man's
tooth. Boil it in wine and vinegar."

"Pour in the blood of a black calf,
and drink it at midnight."

"And you will become invisible."

It's almost midnight.
If only we had the ingredients...

Yes...
We can get hold of all this.

Yesterday we slaughtered a black calf.

- But... A dead man's tooth?
- Should also be possible.

And... cobweb?

- We have plenty of it here at Hvidvang.
- Excellent. Then I have an idea.

With this recipe we can play
hide-and-seek in a new, exciting way.

Of course! Because it's much easier
to hide when you are invisible.

So if our hostess could have
this brew prepared in her kitchen...

I had better do it myself, or else the
household staff will be gone tomorrow.

Each of us is given a full glass, but only
one contains the invisibility potion.

Then we find our hiding places,
empty our glasses... Abraxas!

If one of us cannot be found, -

- I will have greater respect for
the chamberlain's Dark Middle Ages.

- Who will be "it"?
- I hope the chamberlain will volunteer.

At a big party,
the host should not disappear.

I will gladly be "it".

But I will assume no responsibility
for what may happen.

Maybe we shouldn't...?

- Oh, yes please, sweet Daphne.
- Yes, let's do this.

Yes...

- What was the recipe again?
- Cobweb, calfskin, and a black tooth.

Let me.

Mrs. Hamel looks beautiful tonight.

Mr. Berle is also
very shapely, and very young.

What a shame he will be off
to the Danish West Indies.

Yes, it is a pity
for Mrs. Daphne's gorgeous looks.

Thank you, Mr. Berle.

Would you need my assistance
for the witches' brew?

- Don't touch!
- But it's boiling over.

The mistress said we must not touch.

- It's boiling over.
- Go get firewood from the basement!

- What kind of thread is that?
- Thread?

- It's a tooth.
- A tooth?!

Look.

A... human tooth.

Is it possible?

What's the matter with her?

There's something fishy going on here.

Yes, there's something mysterious
about this foreign mistress.

- Maybe she's a gypsy!
- Nonsense. Her father was a count.

In any case she's a Catholic.

She has a picture of
a saint in her room.

- It's gone.
- What's gone?

The tooth! I kept it in here,
as a memory of my dead brother.

A dead man's tooth.
Something terrible will happen.

- I want to go home.
- I know what they're doing.

- They're playing with the Cyprianus.
- Mummy!

- And the mistress has stolen the tooth.
- She is a witch!

Witch?!

The drinks are ready.

Please serve yourselves.

One of the glasses
contains the invisibility drink.

You have three minutes.

Midnight...

- They are all hiding.
- Let me have a look.

Time is up!

Found!

I'm not invisible?

Found!

I think everyone has been found now.

- Except one.
- Daphne?

Yes. But she knows every nook and
cranny of the house better than I do.

Mrs. Hamel?
Come out.

Daphne?

- Has the chamberlain found her?
- No, she is not here.

Maybe in the basement?

Let's have a look.

We need light.
Bring the other one.

- The mistress has disappeared.
- What do you mean, disappeared?

I wonder what kind of witches' brew
was concocted here.

- They've been to the basement.
- Maybe she ran away!

No. She has not
stepped out this side.

No footprints here either.

They're in the attic.

Daphne!

Mrs. Hamel?

Maybe in the chest.

It's locked.
Daphne, are you there?

Move over, young man.
I know how to do this.

This wasn't only wine.

If she's not up there...

She's gone.

- The witch has flown.
- I want to go home!

Nesan Faxus Parno. Far above,
far below, and far away on both sides!

- I don't dare to stay here either.
- No. This is no place to stay.

This house is haunted by evil forces!

And that's the end of the story.

Mrs. Daphne was never found.

This is one of the great riddles
that calls out for a playwright.

- The drama requires a final act.
- Thank God. I thought it ended there.

You promised to tell us something
you had experienced yourself.

I will tell you. This old mystery has
triggered my fantasy for a long time.

Finally I thought I'd found the solution,
and wanted to write a play about it.

I can't wait to hear the solution.

But I wanted to work
where it all took place.

- Does the estate still exist?
- Hvidvang is a cultural history museum.

The house is left exactly
like it was a century and a half ago.

I was permitted to stay there
for a while last winter.

I brought with me two actors.
Good friends of mine.

There were a few practical solutions
I needed to have confirmed -

- before I could finish
writing the play.

One actor was meant to play
the part of Preben Berle, -

- the other Daphne Hamel.
The mistress of Hvidvang.

No, you won't find
Cyprianus there, Elisabeth.

The chamberlain got rid of it.
For very good reasons.

- What reasons?
- You will find out soon enough.

- But you know how curious I am!
- Yes, just hold on to your curiosity.

Thank you.

That's a waste of time, Gjert.

Every inch here has been examined
for a century and a half.

- No secret passages?
- No.

- No secret rooms?
- No.

- No skeletons inside the walls?
- Not a single one.

That's too bad.
Then how can you create a drama?

- Maybe this place is haunted?
- Well, we will find out tonight.

Elisabeth, come here. I will present
the solution to the mystery for you.

Turn around.
Just put it there.

There you go.
Now turn around.

And the ear clips.

Let's see.
We'll turn you into Mrs. Daphne.

Go to the mirror and comb your hair.

The chamberlain's wife
loved young Berle.

Their plan was that she would travel
with him to the Danish West Indies.

Yes!
Now there's Mrs. Daphne.

Just the way I had imagined her.

The whole disappearing act was
planned and staged by the mistress.

By the mistress?
You mean, by me?

Yes. Come over here
for a moment, Elisabeth.

A few days before the party, Mrs.
Daphne employed a new chambermaid.

Let's see...

That's it.

The chambermaid's room
is beside Mrs. Daphne's.

Everyone has seen the chambermaid.
Hamel too.

An elderly, grey-haired woman.

Humble and unimpressive
in the living room.

But strangely vital
and talkative in the kitchen.

Hold the shawl together in front,
like this.

Shoulders up, and a little bent.

Let's see.
Yes, that's great.

- Don't you think, Gjert?
- Yes, but I don't understand...

Daphne employed her, remember?

But no one saw her
and the chambermaid simultaneously.

Because a chambermaid's chores are
carried out in the mistress' chamber.

- In private.
- Aha. This sounds interesting.

- Like a dual role?
- Yes.

She alternates between her roles
as the chamberlain's wife, and servant.

Also during the party game.

So the chambermaid in the kitchen
is really Daphne in disguise?

And she disappears
in the company of the fleeing servants.

First out of the house,
in order to wait for her beloved Berle.

And then...
Out into the world.

It makes no sense.

What do you mean?

Why would Daphne arrange
such a melodramatic escape?

She could have just left.

Why all this nonsense with Cyprianus,
invisibility drink and a glass in the attic?

And this too, in addition.

Why?

Because my play
will be about the female nature.

By dramatising her escape
into a macabre mystification, -

- Mrs. Daphne took revenge
for her miserable marriage.

Such a creature only exists
in the imagination of a misogynist.

It's just that after 150 years, I have
found the only solution to the mystery.

And a brilliant solution,
if I may say so.

Is it? Then I apologise.

I don't find it implausible.

And I'm sure Alf has
more rabbits in his hat.

- Let me see...
- Oh no, you don't!

- Never look into a magician's rabbits!
- Rabb...?

A beautiful picture
of Mary and her child.

What?

How do you know that
Mrs. Daphne had a saint image there?

- I don't.
- Yes, you do.

You've been peeking at my notes.

But I haven't!

Really?

Why else would you pose
in front of a spot on the wallpaper?

I don't know.
Maybe it's the... atmosphere here.

The atmosphere?
No way.

- Don't you believe me?
- Well, I...

I just don't understand...

Anyway, go to bed now. So you'll be
in the mood for tomorrow's rehearsals.

Good night.

So...
Should we give this a try?

You'll stand by the window,
watching the snow landscape.

Daphne has compared her eventless
life on Hvidvang with the nature here.

Berle has described the sunny,
colourful country in the south.

Please turn towards the window,
Elisabeth.

Look out the window!

I can't.

You can't?

There is something...
out there.

What?

- There's nothing there.
- No. Only snow.

- What's the matter, Elisabeth?
- It's just that...

My eyes cannot stand
watching all that snow.

Then we could rehearse over there.

Okay...

All right.
Go ahead.

Gjert first.

Daphne... You languish here
like a butterfly in a tomb.

I still have wings, Preben.

You have to put
some more feeling into it.

- You seem indifferent towards Berle.
- But I am!

No, you're not!
Enough of this nonsense.

Repeat your line, Gjert.

Daphne... You languish here
like a butterfly in a tomb.

- But I still have wings, Preben.
- Yes, you do, my love.

Elisabeth!

Elisabeth!

I don't know...

I just can't stand it when he...

- It's got nothing to do with you, Gjert.
- I understand.

What's wrong?

Nothing...
I slept terribly last night.

- Go rest for a while.
- But...

We'll continue tonight.
Go rest now.

I'm so sorry.

I don't understand
what's wrong with her.

- We usually work well together.
- Maybe she doesn't like me.

Why else would she sabotage my play?

- I don't think she does.
- At least she reacts against my script.

She also reacts against the snow.

I know Elisabeth well. She is very
sensitive towards objects and places.

No... I think it has to do with
her and this house.

How does it feel
to be living in 1802?

Very pleasant, chamberlain.

I only miss a beautiful woman
and a lively dance.

Here is the woman!

You look gorgeous!

With the chamberlain's permission...

With my permission.

Ah, excellent!

First merriment...

Then eeriness.

The Cyprianus game has begun.

The guests gather
around the full glasses.

One of them contains
the invisibility drink.

The chamberlain finds his place,
over by the hourglass.

The guests are given
three minutes to hide.

Mrs. Daphne goes to her room, and
changes costumes as fast as lightning.

Let's see how quickly she can change
identity and become a chambermaid.

This seems to work out well.
Looks like Elisabeth is fine again.

I wonder how much time she needs.

Greece...

What was the Greek myth about
Daphne again, who fled from Apollo?

Did she disappear?

She was transformed into a tree.

- Are you nervous?
- No.

But there's something
about this house...

What's keeping her?

Seems you could've
dropped this dress rehearsal.

I have to establish how much
time she needs to change.

- She should be finished by now.
- Yes, she should.

Elisabeth?

She sure plays her part well.
Disappeared, just like Mrs. Daphne.

Don't say that!
Come, we have to look for her.

Elisabeth?

Are you here?

No. And she hasn't changed costumes.
Come.

You look in the corridor and the attic.
I'll go to the other wing.

Hello?

Elisabeth?

Oh, there you are!

What on earth are you doing here?

No...
Don't do it.

Don't do it!
No...!

- What's wrong?
- It's not true.

There is nothing
between Preben Berle and me.

I cannot stand him.
You are so wrong, Thomas.

No!!

Elisabeth...

Yes.

- That's how it happened.
- What?

First he strangled her in here.

Then he pushed the corpse
out through the window.

Out... beneath the snow.

And covered the hole.

Beneath the snow,
she leaves no tracks.

And one night,
when they've stopped searching,

she can be pulled back in again,
and hidden somewhere else.

Poor Mrs. Daphne, who played
hide-and-seek with her husband.

He hid her well...

Hello?

Help me up, please.

- Did you find her?
- Yes.

Did something happen?

Only that Elisabeth has
solved an old murder case.

There won't be any more rehearsals.

Unfortunately, I had to drop my play.

So the actress was a medium?

The story reminds me of
how you find water with a divining rod.

- What do you mean?
- The rod has no supernatural qualities.

Unconsciously, the dowser makes use
of his observations of the terrain.

So you think the actress subconsciously
interpreted her on-site observations?

Well, among other things, the basement
window, hidden below the snow.

So her intuition found the solution.

- Were there also other observations?
- The vanished saint image.

A murderer would not keep a religious
picture that belonged to his victim.

What about the strangulation episode?

Her solution is an unconscious fantasy
which has become an obsession.

A well-known
hysterical phenomenon.

Hysterical?

She projects the solution into the
figure she identifies with: Mrs. Daphne.

Her unconscious fantasy
dictates her acting,

like in the strangulation episode.

- And when she sees the window...
- She becomes conscious of her fantasy.

And in that moment, her acute hysteria
is healed, quite naturally.

Elementary psychiatry.

My unconsciousness tells me
you need a glass of cognac.

I hope you do not still
find my fantasy hysterical.

- Mrs. Nordberg... Was it you...?
- Yes. Didn't you get that?

Well, scientists have no intuition,
that's for sure!

Alf proposed the same night. That's not
the least supernatural about the story.

Well, I have to admit
it was a strange story.

Even though
it has a natural explanation.

But you have to be an artist
to experience that kind of thing.

No.
Definitely not.

I'm no artist.

I'm the managing director of
Power Cardboard Ltd., and I...

That is... this happened
to a friend of mine.

A regular, normal person.

Let's hear your story.

Let's move over to the coffee table.
Please bring the chair.

Is this also about
a Cyprianus at an old estate?

No, my story takes place
in trivial surroundings.

In ordinary everyday life.

But this does not make it
any less strange.

Good.

Just the right chair
for a good ghost story.

My great grandfather shot himself in it.

So, let's hear your story.

The invisibility game
made me start thinking about it.

I'm sure you know that
some children have invisible friends.

- They talk to them, and play with them,
- A familiar psychological phenomenon.

Contact problems.

Yes. Maybe.

But the story is about a child
who had a friend like that.

Actually, the friend was not invisible.
Just inaudible.

It was a doll.

And apart from that, the story is about
a father and mother with certain...

let's say,
contact problems.

Where is Myrth?

In bed.

Isn't she going to school?

She has a sore throat,
you know.

Right. And where is
the fashion model?

Bibbi went to a party last night.

Suddenly interested in family life?

One should attend meals
when staying over as a guest.

How long will this cousin of yours stay?
While "passing through"?

Until she's off for London.

Why the hell did you invite her?

Maybe to have some company...

since I never see you.

You think you're in a
position to criticise?

You came home at 4 a.m.!

Who were you with?

A business relation...

Required representation.

Imagine how much fun I have,
left here on my own.

But now I'm sick of it!

As if you've got a leisure problem.

Maybe I have.

I could've continued my career,
if you hadn't discouraged me.

But a manager's wife
mustn't work.

My God,
are we back to this now?

It's like being married
to the man in the moon.

More like the man on the
dark side of the moon!

I wish I were there!

Hush.

No, don't tell Mum
that Dad did this.

By the way,
you're far too strict with him.

Who is the kid talking to?

- To her doll.
- Her doll?

Again?

Don't you think
her mouth is red enough?

No, you're right.

Miss Hermansen
uses a lot of red lipstick.

Don't talk so much, sweetie,
when you've got a sore throat.

I have to answer
when Puck talks to me, Daddy.

Please don't.
Lie down and rest now.

You can leave the management
of the child's health to me.

Just go to the office.

Bye, Daddy!

Bye.

Hello, Bibbi!

I heard you were up late last night.

Yes. I didn't get to bed
before 4 o'clock.

Gruelling work-hours
in my line of business.

But you shouldn't sleep
in such nice weather... Ouch!

As usual.
1 o'clock.

I think things are
getting complicated, Puck.

Good morning, Myrth.
How is your throat?

It's going very well, Miss Hermansen.

You're so good at drawing.

But I don't seem
to get you right.

It's supposed to be me?

I don't see the resemblance.

No, Puck doesn't either.

He says your fingernails are
much longer, Miss Hermansen.

I see.
So that's what Puck says.

- He must know a whole lot.
- Everything, Miss Hermansen.

Don't say "Miss Hermansen".
Call me Auntie.

So...
What's my name?

Your name is Auntie Bibbi,
Miss Hermansen.

Ouch!

- What happened?
- It pricked me!

You mustn't use Puck
as a pincushion.

That's dangerous!

The jacket had come unsewn,
and you haven't resewn it.

I don't think you're
fond of Puck, Mum.

Yes, we are.

But it comes apart so easily,
the way you throw it around.

Lie down and rest now,
and get well again.

There you go.

Myrth doesn't like me.

And she uses that
bloody doll to show it.

Yes, there's something wrong
with Myrth and this... Puck.

I think we have to get rid of it.

Maybe I can give her a new doll.

Just like how you
have gotten one.

What about us tonight?

I'm sorry, I can't.
I have to meet a business relation.

Required representation.

- Are you scared of Rigmor?
- Hah! Scared?

- Isn't she jealous?
- Yes, terribly.

Jealous of my work, my interests...

Jealous that there is
anything else than her in my life.

But you have never
been unfaithful before?

No. At least one thing
she can't accuse me of.

Maybe that's the only thing lacking.

- How?
- She wants power over you.

And she probably thinks she'll succeed,
if you have a guilty enough conscience.

Maybe that's why
she invited me to stay with you.

- What do you mean?
- So she can use her little cousin as bait.

As bait?

Bait.
So that I should...

The bait loves its fish.

It's my hook you're
swallowing. Not hers.

Be careful.

- What was that?
- It came from Myrth's room.

What?
Is she awake at midnight?

Go find out what's going on.

- Can't you do it?
- I've gone to bed.

You told me to leave
the care of the child to you.

What are you doing, Myrth?

Why aren't you asleep?

Look. Puck is out there,
walking on the moonlight.

That's why his feet are so big, Mummy.

So he can walk on the moonlight
without sinking.

You mustn't play with your doll
in the middle of the night.

- Where is it?
- I told you. He's out there.

Here he comes!

Go to bed now. Don't stand
here by the open window.

What are you doing?!

- Why do you scare me like that?
- Now we're going to bed.

Good night, Mummy.

Good night.

Good night, Puck.

Don't go out anymore tonight.

Something has to be done
with this Puck!

It wasn't there, and suddenly
it jumped in from the moonlight.

Through the window.
It's true!

Myrth had of course
tied a thread to it.

A thread? No.
I didn't see a thread.

- Because you were scared.
- Maybe.

The kid can't terrorise the house
with her doll anymore! This is...

This is sick.

Nervous and difficult children

No, Dr. Broch, she didn't get the doll
from us or anyone we know about.

She must have found it somewhere.

Yes, such things happen.

And Myrth says that...

Puck is an elf who comes
from the moonlight.

Oh, from the moonlight...

What's the relationship like
between you and your husband?

- Do I have to...?
- Yes, you do, madam.

A child always reflects the
conflicts between the parents.

I presume
your relationship is complicated?

Yes, it's difficult.

And just when it turned difficult...

This Puck turned up?

And initiated
this mysterious fantasy game?

Yes...
That's right.

Children often react to their parents'
conflicts by escaping into a game.

The imaginary friend appears as
a protest against the parents' attitude.

The danger to the child is that it
may be spiritually fixated on a fantasy.

And so the protest game
may result in a neurosis.

What is your advice, Dr. Broch?

The doll which has inspired this fantasy
should be removed as soon as possible.

Take Puck away from her?
But that's impossible!

It must be done gently.

The child must be given a new
and more fun doll as a replacement.

- She would never accept that.
- A fait accompli.

Presented as a joyful surprise.

- Isn't there something else...?
- Talk it out with each other.

You and your husband.
Talk it out.

Thank you, Dr. Broch.

I'm sure it will work out, madam.

That will be 100 kroner.

- 100 kroner?
- Yes.

I receive the rest
from social security.

I see.

Talk to your husband.
The sooner the better.

Please come out here, Myrth.

- We have a surprise for you.
- From Auntie Bibbi.

- From England.
- In your room.

Oh, how nice!
It looks like a real woman.

- Did I get it from you?
- Yes.

Then I'll call it Miss Hermansen.

Just think,
I've got two dolls.

One from England,
and one from Elfland.

No, I don't think so, Myrth.

- Puck fell apart so easily...
- So we had to throw him away.

- But this doll is so much nicer, right?
- Yes, it is very pretty.

And it's got real hair.

But what did you say about Puck?

- My goodness!
- Puck? But I just...

Puck had gone for a walk,
and lost his way.

But a nice man found him for me.

Tonight as well?
Then just stay out!

Just stay out.

Now I know
why men die of heart attacks!

Not you.
Because you have no heart!

Do you want the company to go to hell?

Because I'm supposed to sit around all
day and stare into those sour peepers!

- Not as sour as cheap port wine.
- Cheap port wine?

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye!

You...

Bitch!

You stepped on Puck, Daddy!
He must be bandaged.

So you feel sorry for Puck,
but not for me!

I almost get killed, and you
just stand there grinning!

Get yourself some sleep now,
so you get well again.

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- "enhances harmony
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That'll be the day.

Hi!

- Hi.
- You're home early today.

Yes.

Where do we go
dancing tonight?

Dancing?
I sprained my ankle.

I stumbled over that bloody doll.

You always let that doll
come between us!

By the way, it knows everything.

Everything?

That's what Myrth says.
Bye!

But...

Everything...?

Are you burning
Miss Hermansen, Daddy?

Miss...?
What?!

But you wanted to
burn Puck, right?

Yes... I admit that I...

Listen, Myrth. The doctor says
this doll is not good for you.

Doctors are stupid, Daddy.

And they don't know
that elves are immortal.

But... you bandaged Puck,
didn't you?

Yes. But elves never
stay ill very long.

Just a few minutes.

Miss Hermansen
caught the measles,

so she had to borrow
the bandages from Puck.

Daddy... Promise me you'll
never try to burn Puck again.

Because then he'll
get mad at you.

I promise.

- Cross your heart?
- Cross my heart.

Poor Miss Hermansen.

What did you burn?
There's a weird smell in here.

I just...

- Did you burn Puck?
- No, not Puck.

But... your cousin.

What? Bibbi?

No.
Miss Hermansen!

You see,
she caught the measles.

The measles?

Yes, and she borrowed
bandages from Puck.

Because elves never stay ill
for a long time, you see.

- Myrth?
- Yes?

- Come here, will you?
- Coming.

Why is Puck sitting here?
He seems to be everywhere.

I can't look after him
all the time.

But you have to.

You were so pretty and cheerful
back then, Mummy.

Go do your homework now.
And bring Puck with you.

Come, Puck.

You mustn't go places
where you have no business.

What?
You had some business there?

Okay, then.

Yes...

I'm sick of being your bad conscience.

If you want this relationship to last,
it will cost you a golden ring.

You understand?
A smooth golden ring.

- You want to...?
- Be your wife.

The manager's wife.

I will surely appreciate
that kind of existence.

So...
What do you say?

- I say...
- Well?

I say...

I had another pack of cigarettes.

What's the matter?

Puck!

Don't worry, Myrth.
I'm sure Daddy hasn't taken him.

Not when he has
crossed his heart.

But Puck isn't here!

We'll find him.

And then I'll help you look after him.

Cross your heart?

Cross my heart.

I assure you...
I don't understand this!

But I understand.

You stuffed it in your
coat pocket while distracted.

You brought something
to protect you against me.

"My daughter's little doll."

I know what you husbands are like.

Then why do you want me
to be your husband?

You have to choose
between that doll and me.

Understand?

- How did it get here?
- There?

Maybe it jumped.
The way you bang the table.

It's...
It's moving!

It's going to sting me!
Take it away!

You mustn't frighten the ladies, Puck.

I can see you've made your decision.

I'm leaving for London tomorrow.
You... You power cardboard idiot!

Goodbye!

Thank you, Puck.

You want us to go home now?
I think that's an excellent idea.

So... It's back
in its place again.

Yes, thank God.

It has roamed around quite a bit.

You mean, since it joined me?

Yes. You have also
roamed around.

On moonbeams.

- Was that...?
- Yes, it was.

She thought it would be best
to stay at a hotel her last night.

The plane to London
leaves very early, you know.

You did say goodbye,
didn't you?

What do you mean?

Oh, how could you, Arne?

How could you set
such a bait for me?!

Me?
Am I to blame for your...

Good Lord.
How did it get there?

Aha.
Here's the explanation.

What? I was asleep, and then
there was this loud noise.

No! I want to know
what's going on here.

There's no point, Arne.

Puck makes the decisions
in this house.

Yes, you are right.
I'm sorry, Puck.

Go back to bed, Myrth.

It's a good thing we've got
friends among the elves.

And that one of them looks after us.

You may borrow Puck tonight.
Good night!

Well...
That's the story.

And is the doctor willing
to give the elves a chance?

No, I'm sorry. A very romantic story.
It even has a good moral.

But I cannot see
anything supernatural in there.

- But there were some forces...
- Yes, a child's forces.

The forces
of a gifted and skilful little girl,

who in an intelligent way
defends her interests.

By taking advantage of
the adults' fear of the dark.

The intelligence of a child
is no breach of the laws of nature.

But... What about the doll,
and all the weird things it did?

A marionette can also do weird things
on a puppet theatre stage.

But a human hand made of
flesh and blood pulls the strings.

In this case,
a skilful little child's hand.

There is still
something inexplicable left.

I've been in the same house
as this doll,

and I'm nearly as sure
Puck has a soul

as I'm sure you've got one, Dr. Kahrs.

But it hasn't been scientifically proven
that Dr. Kahrs has a soul.

Remember the first
principle of science:

Everything can be explained away.

Not everything.

The doll that came in on a moonbeam...

I also have
a weird story about the moon.

About the moon itself?

Yes. It actually played
a leading role.

The old-fashioned moon, I hope.
Not the silly rocket target?

Yes, the old-fashioned moon.

You too, Strand...

Have you noticed that some days
in life may have a kind of...

pattern?

The way that the things you experience
on that day are somehow connected?

As if something tugs at your sleeve,
and points you in a specific direction.

You don't know why you're
looking in this direction.

Only in hindsight.

My story starts off
with a day like that.

I was going to write about an exhibition
of maritime art under preparation.

That's when I felt the first tug.

Totally unexpected
and incomprehensible.

- Who painted this picture?
- Cato Zaubermann.

A skilful maritime painter,
but not well known.

Right.
Zaubermann...

Never heard of him.

He died a short time
after he painted this picture.

It wasn't the painting as a
work of art that captivated me.

It seemed like it wanted to
tell me something.

Argo...

Later that day,
I interviewed a ship crew.

They had just come in
from a shipwreck.

Any of you been in
a shipwreck before?

Yes, our mate has. Brodland.

He was a pilot trainee on board
the Argo when she shipwrecked.

- Argo?
- Yes.

She sank outside Holmesund.

- I have to talk to him.
- He's not fond of talking about it.

His father was the pilot on board
the Argo, and ran the ship aground.

Old Brodland lost his pilot license
because of the shipwreck.

That bad?

I think I'll give it a try anyway.

The moon was shining when Dad and I
boarded Argo outside the fog belt.

Was there dense fog?

At least Dad could see the flashes from
what he thought was the lighthouse.

"Thought"?

I saw the signals myself,
and I swear they were correct.

Still we were completely off-
course when we ran aground.

- How would you explain that?
- I don't have an explanation.

Dad thought it was a plot.

- A plot?
- Insurance fraud.

That they had set up a fake lighthouse
on an islet to make Argo run aground.

Did anything support
that assumption?

No.

Dad insisted he had manoeuvred
correctly, but no one believed him.

That broke him.
He died one year later.

Could the wreck of Argo
be saved?

No. It sank after a few days.

A few days?

- Did you know Zaubermann?
- The painter? Yes, he lived out there.

I saw a painting he had made
of the Argo after the shipwreck.

What about it?

There was
something strange about it.

Well, Zaubermann was also strange.

Strange?

THE PAINTER WHO WAS
CLAIRVOYANT AT SEA

- Well, I'll be...
- What's the matter?

There's an article here.

"Cato Zaubermann.

"The painter who was
clairvoyant at sea."

"Clairvoyant at sea"?
An art critic cliché.

Well, it's not the expression, but...

It's the third time today
I stumble across the same story.

- Go to sleep now.
- Soon.

Nothing exciting about him here.

But he has a peculiar face.

Is it possible to paint a
moonlight picture in sunlight?

Did you say sunlight?

Look up there.

But a moment ago, it was noon?

The moon, young man...

The moon has many secrets.

Remember that.

- The moon!
- What?

"Is it possible to paint by moonlight?"

You're dreaming.
Lie down.

- I have to leave tomorrow.
- Here we go again.

There's something I have to solve.

Like what?

What do you have
to solve, Egil?

The moon's secret.

In Holmesund.

Just tell me if you're hungry.

Thank you, Miss Fure.

So, how does it feel
to see your native town again?

Terrible.

I was thinking...
Those flashes of light you saw...

There were others
on deck that night?

Yes.

Both Captain Hogne and the lookout
testified against my father.

They claimed they
hadn't seen lights.

Any reason to doubt their testimony?

- Not in that respect.
- What do you mean?

Captain Hogne implied
that maybe alcohol played a role.

That your father
had been drinking?

Yes. But that's a blatant lie.

Dad never drank while on duty.

But how could he imply this?

You don't know Holmesund.

Dad avoided the
religious zealots here.

And they could never
forgive him.

- So they saw him as a worthless drunk.
- And they made him one.

After they had
taken his job from him.

That's when he started drinking.

I'll have a little talk with Miss Fure.

Miss Fure? But why?

Guest house hostesses
know a lot.

But she...

No. I don't want to be
involved in that story.

And it's so long ago,
I can't remember the details.

I understand.

What an interesting drawing.

"The Ocean Takes It."
Zaubermann.

It's a personal present.
From the painter.

- Did you know Zaubermann?
- Yes.

I worked for him, as a housekeeper.

- Where did he live?
- Out in the strait.

On the "Painter's Islet",
as it is called.

Does anyone live
in the house now?

No. It has been empty since he died.

For that many years?

Did he have no heirs?

They removed
everything of value.

Since then, nobody has
wanted to live out there.

How did Zaubermann die?

He drowned, close to the islet.

Soon after the Argo
shipwreck, right?

Apparently. It's so long ago.

Did he paint by moonlight?

What...? Why?

No, nothing.

"The Ocean Takes It."

Painter's Islet?
Yes, I know the place.

I'd like to go there tonight,
if you get hold of a boat.

- Tonight?
- Yes.

There was a full moon
on the night of the shipwreck?

Yes.

There's a full moon tonight as well.

Look at this. I drew your positions
on the Argo when you ran aground.

Your father and you here. The captain
here, and the outlook on the forecastle.

- Correct?
- Yes.

There's something called
"hole in the fog".

Could that explain why you saw
something that the others didn't?

The captain was here
on the port side.

The light could pass by him.

The outlook's position was
several metres below the bridge.

So the light could pass over him.

Such a small hole in the fog
is unthinkable.

And the moon doesn't
produce flashes.

No, I know that, but...

Does Captain Hogne
still reside here?

Yes, as far as I know.

- You plan to talk to him?
- Yes.

Any others I should pay a visit?

- Someone impartial?
- "Impartial"...

Come to think of it...

Dad was shunned by all the villagers.
He only socialised with one person:

Mrs. Kjos. Or, as we
called her, Auntie Molla.

She probably knows a few things.

I'll go visit them
while you get hold of a boat.

- I'll start out with Hogne.
- Good luck with that.

I warned Sivert Brodland
against entering the fog belt.

But he insisted on carrying
out the daredevil feat.

An act of arrogance.

And he that hardeneth his heart
shall fall into mischief.

Captain Hogne, you testified that
he was under the influence of alcohol.

I merely suggested the possibility.

How could you let him pilot your ship
if you suspected he had been drinking?

I did not suspect that. I always
think the best of my fellow men.

You must have had a basis for
suggesting the pilot was intoxicated?

Did you notice anything
when he boarded?

It was very dark at the time.
Very dark.

You see this?

One night, Sivert Brodland
threw this through my window!

During one of his... orgies.

He was a savage and a heathen!

But that was after the
revocation of his license?

Didn't he consider himself wrongfully
convicted, because of your testimony?

He drank himself to death!
On jenever.

In style!

You mentioned it was dark
when the pilot boarded?

Yes, pitch black.

But wasn't there clear weather
and a full moon outside the fog belt?

I... can't remember.

You have to leave now,
young man.

I'm going to a meeting
in the chapel.

Yes, the captain and the pilot
hated each other.

That's understandable, Mrs. Kjos!

Just call me Auntie Molla.
Everybody does.

- I see you are married.
- Yes.

Sivert spent so much time
out there on the islets

during his last days.

To find traces of the fake lighthouse?

They say
that he haunts the islets at night.

But he probably only haunts
people's guilty conscience.

Did you know Zaubermann,
Auntie Molla?

The painter? Yes.
He was mad.

Coul you fetch the coffee?

- He was mad?
- Totally nuts.

He wanted to paint himself
as a corpse floating in the sea.

He finally got the
motif he wanted.

As you know, he drowned.

But it was a bit difficult
for him to paint it.

That was a miscalculation.

- Did he kill himself?
- Not at all. Somebody else did.

Oh, your wife will
give birth in February.

In February? Isn't it March?

I think you have
miscalculated as well!

- Did you say it was murder?
- Yes, exactly.

Sivert thought
the painter had been murdered -

because he saw something
the night of the Argo shipwreck.

Just put the pot there.

Miss Fure was
Zaubermann's housekeeper?

Housekeeper?

Oh well. That's one
way of putting it.

She was running around
out there stark naked.

Like a lunatic cat.

- Lunatic?
- Yes. Lunatic.

But...
Here is the important thing.

I think it will be a boy.

Høgholmen is right out there,
isn't it?

That's correct.

What could Zaubermann have
seen from here that night?

Nothing much, in that kind of fog.

The moon has many secrets.
Maybe this is one of them.

- I think the solution is up there.
- On the moon?

You know the English
word for insanity?

Yes... "Lunacy".

From the name of the
moon goddess: Luna.

What was that?

There he is.

- Maybe it was...
- Hush!

I think I saw something out there.

Look at that! I think someone
wants to scare us away.

Come!

- Someone barred it!
- The window!

Listen.

See anything?

No.

We'll take the boat.

We should rather rest
for a while.

I would like to see
the sunrise here.

The sunrise...?

Look how beautifully the
moonlight plays on the waves.

Did you say the moonlight?
That doesn't exist.

It doesn't exist?

The moon is a
mirror, young man.

A mirror...

- What's going on?
- The moon is a mirror!

- What?
- I said, the moon is a mirror.

Let's find out if it's true.

Have you gone nuts?

There it is.

See that track there?

Yes.

Grab it over there.

A bit more.
Come on.

Stop. You see?

- This explains it all.
- Really?

Let's go back.

Didn't you want to
see the sunrise?

I've seen it.

Now for a little "visit".

It's not nice to throw empty jenever
jugs through windows, Miss Fure.

You smashed it so we wouldn't discover
it had been used as a mirror, didn't you?

Why did you keep it hidden
all these years?

Because...

- Because you loved him?
- Yes. You see...

He only wanted to paint objects that
were destroyed and taken by the sea.

And he created the motifs himself.

Seabirds he shot.
Ships he decoyed into wrecking.

Back then I didn't understand it.
But later...

He must have been insane.

How did you realise it was her?

She was the only one that might
have a motive for smashing a...

a window.

What you saw, was a reflection of the
lighthouse in Zaubermann's window.

Because it had been set at a certain
angle towards the lighthouse?

A reflection like that is only visible
inside a narrow sector.

Above the lookout,
beside the captain...

But straight at you
and your father.

But how is the moon
involved in this?

It put me on the right track.

Yes... You said:
"The moon is a mirror."

With the sun hidden,
we see the sunlight indirectly.

- Mirrored by the moon.
- Exactly.

What will you do now?

The dead are dead.
But...

I think it's better if this
secret stays with... the moon.

So you acted as a dream-
detective in this story?

That's the right term.
"Dream detective."

And what does science say
about the dream detective?

That he classifies as a
fully explainable phenomenon.

Our subconscious is also
capable of solving problems.

In this case through two dreams.

But the first dream contained
the whole solution.

And I had this dream
before I investigated the case.

You had heard about lighthouse flashes
from a different direction.

Wasn't the mirror reflection
an obvious explanation?

- Yes, but I didn't get that before...
- Not consciously.

But the subconscious
has a good memory.

It remembers
your childhood experiences.

Every child has played with the
reflection from a pocket mirror.

So you could dream the solution
before your conscious mind found it.

You mean, like intuition?

I thought that ability
was reserved for us women?

No, even we men get wise
when we're asleep.

But... what about
the tugging at my sleeve?

That I came across this story
three times?

That's what science calls
coincidence.

Random incidents.

Three times?
Just by chance?

You can also roll a 6
three times in a row.

You're ruining all our stories.

Yes, now it's your turn, Dr. Kahrs.

It is part of my profession
to debunk such stories.

So you cannot expect me to have any.

No story?
Then I will provide you with one.

- What do you mean?
- You are a psychiatrist.

You gaze into the abyss
of the human soul.

But you have only seen the
inside of your own spectacles.

But Alf...

I would like to show you a glimpse of
the abyss called man's possibilities.

- I am at your disposition.
- You mentioned throwing dice.

Do you think someone's will can
influence the throw of a dice?

Influence inanimate objects?
No way.

Good.

Definitely out of the question.

You see this clock, Dr. Kahrs?

Yes. What of it?

As you can see,
it's almost 3.

Precisely at 3 o'clock
I will make it stop.

How do you plan to do that?
With your will power?

Yes, with my will power.

Please stay silent for a
few minutes, while I concentrate.

- Fantastic.
- Go ahead, mister wizard.

Honestly, Alf, I think you should...

Hush, dammit!

Right.
There you see.

Your fault.
You distracted me.

- I got so nervous.
- It was an accident.

But the experiment can be repeated.
Can't it, Nordberg?

No. That won't work.

Not with this kind of
scepticism in the room.

No, wizards have never
appreciated scepticism.

But maybe a night snack?
Would you like some now?

I'll have a serious word with you.

- Come now.
- Coming.

Thank you for an
interesting evening!

Very interesting.

Not least from a
psychiatric point of view.

- Good night, madam.
- Good night.

Good night,
and get home safely.

Why the hell didn't it stop?

A lesson you truly deserved.

It has stopped at 3 every day
for a week. Why not now?

Because I had it repaired
by a clockmaker this morning.

I did what I could to save you.

Why do you, who believe in these
things, lower yourself to cheating?

It was a gentle deception.

With a stubborn disbeliever like
Dr. Kahrs, I must be allowed to...

And still,

for a moment I had the feeling
that I had power over it.

Alas, poetic fantasy...

You brought the
game home, doctor.

Maybe reason is not always so exciting.

On the other hand,
it is surprisingly reliable.

- It's been an amusing evening.
- And it got late.

3 o'clock?
That can't be right.

No, it's...

What on earth?

What's the matter?

It has stopped... at 3.

- What does your watch show, Kahrs?
- Oh, it's...

Good heavens...
I wound it a few hours ago.

Did your watch also stop?

Yes... yes.

At 3.
Precisely 3.

I don't understand...

Ah, a ridiculous coincidence.
Good night, gentlemen.

My goodness.
Was he offended?

It almost seemed like he was...

Struck by the
horn of the unicorn.