All language subtitles for Tirza.2010.BLURAY.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

Hi, this is Tirza's voice mail.

Leave a nice message
and I'll call back as soon as possible.

Sweetie, you forgot your iPod.

Call me to tell me where you are
and I'll send it to you.

Let me know. Have fun
and take care of each other.

Welcome to Vodafone Voice Mail.
You have no messages.

So what do you say?

Well? Jörgen?

What should I say?
I would have liked to stay, but...

Of course, this is also...

No, fine.

True culture, Jörgen, is nothing
but the power of numbers. Superfluous.

He's been on the long list
for the Nobel Prize for years.

You know what I was thinking?
-He's the only Eastern European...

Strange perhaps coming from someone
who has worked with books his whole life...

The most beautiful things in life
aren't books...

but children.

Your daughter... Where is she again?

In Namibia.
-No, the other one.

Ibi?
-Yes, with that French boyfriend.

In Saint-Rémy.
-Why don't you go to Saint-Rémy?

You'll have grandchildren soon.
Great, isn't it?

Take them rowing, surfing, canoeing,
water biking. Kids love water.

There's no water biking in Saint-Rémy.

Asshole.

Superfluous...

Those wooden spoons can't go in here.
How often do I have to say that?

Ibi did that.

Where's Ibi?
-No idea. With Jean-Loup, I guess.

Is she staying the night?
-Don't know.

Dad...

When will I lose my virginity?

What?
-My virginity.

You know everything, don't you?

Not always.

Things happen for a reason.

In my class no one is a virgin anymore.
Except for me.

Perhaps you haven't met Mr. Right yet.

Bullshit!
What counts is doing it.

Dad, I want you to help me.

Tell me who I should lose my virginity to.

I'll call out names
and you say "stop!"

Stop this nonsense.
-I just can't choose.

This is...
-Are you ready?

No.
-David, who has slick brown hair...

He has that scooter, you know?
Reinhart is gorgeous with his big eyes.

So who should I ask?

What's wrong, dad?
What are you thinking about?

About that bitch again?
-No.

They are scared to death.

They're afraid of everything.

Especially of you.
-What?

Boys. You have to put them at ease.

How?
They act so weird.

Exactly. When you've picked a boy,
take him along...

And then you should...

touch him gently.
And then you say...

"I'm Tirza and I love you."

And then?

Then you embrace him
and hold him tight.

I am Tirza and I love you.

Tirza?
-Your doorbell doesn't work.

Is this a bad time?
-I'm busy cooking, so...

What's a bad time?

I thought I'd come and see how you are.
And the girls.

Has Tirza completely recovered?
-Yes.

What about Ibi? Is she still with...?
-Jean-Loup.

Yes, a Bed & Breakfast in Saint-Rémy.
Changing filthy sheets.

And that with her brains.
-Maybe it makes her happy.

Shall we go in? Or is someone else here?
Are you seeing someone?

No.

Are you staying for dinner?
-I'm not hungry.

What about work?
-Fine. Busy. Autumn presentation.

You're smoking again.

Is this one for me?
-Yes.

Around the corner here there are often
wine-tastings on Saturday.

Sometimes I go there with Tirza.
-How romantic.

She threw a huge party
for her final exams.

Two As, two B+s, nothing below a B.
-You must be very proud.

Where is she? Is she hiding from me?
-Yes. In Namibia.

Pardon?
-In Namibia.

Does she still hate me?
-Yes.

She's a little witch. Always was,
even when she was a toddler.

She never liked me,
even when she was a baby.

She doesn't have to like you.
She's your daughter.

I know a mother isn't supposed to say this:
It's bad...

but I can't stand her.

Yuck. What a stench.

Why don't you kick her out right away?

You don't kick a woman out. Let alone
one with whom you have two kids.

She abandoned you, dad.
-No, she didn't abandon us.

She had to find herself.

Find myself?!
I couldn't take it anymore here.

What are you doing here?
Get lost. Dad and I...

I was suffocating. I was longing for space.
-For sex!

Sweetie, no one could stand it here.
No one normal, at least.

Fucking bitch!

Squeeze out those tears, why don't you?

I wish you were dead!

You learned to cook, I have to admit.

Thank you.
-Did you miss me?

You did, right?

What do you want?

My life.

Maybe it's still here, somewhere.

Excuse me.
Sorry.

Am I disturbing you? Should I leave?
-Are you disturbing me?

It might have been better if you
hadn't come. But you're here. It's fine.

You want to stay the night.
That's fine too.

Do you know that I was never
attracted to you?

Not even in the beginning.

Do you even know
what attraction is?

My little girl...

Didn't you ever think:
Jeez, this is weird?

How weird that I never gave my wife
an orgasm.

How peculiar.
Never, right? Never ever.

We produced two gorgeous daughters.

Isn't that more important
than all the orgasms in the world?

How I had to try to stuff in
that half-hard thing!

What I had to do to try
and wake your beast from hibernation!

I'm not your type and you're not mine.
Never have been. Too bad.

Whatever.
The beast is dead.

But not in me, Jörgen.
-Great. But in me it's dead as a doornail.

I conquered it.
I'm stronger than the beast.

Is that right?

Just go to sleep.

Did you ever really look at me?
And how I was doing?

Do you even dare to look?
Here. Look. Look at them!

Did you miss them?
Tell me: did you miss them?

Ibi!
Come here.

Easy.

Calm down.

Bastard!
-Where are you going?

None of you business.
-Where?

To Andreas.
-No way. You live here.

You live here!
-What did you say?

Bossing me around just because
you have no one else to boss around.

Stop it.
You don't belong there.

My panties are still there.
-Pardon?

My panties, you moron!

What's going on here?
What's the problem?

That German asshole upstairs.
He has to go.

You're the problem.
You have been for a long time.

Tirza, get rid of that lollypop.
It's bad for your teeth.

What have you done, for God's sake?
-I threw that Kraut out.

That's no reason to hit him on the head
with a lamp.

My daughter is not included in the rent.

How will you make up for this?
-Yes, daddy, how will you?

Get rid of that lollypop.
You don't even like it.

You can't treat your kid's friends like that.
-Friends? How old is he? 40?

Don't you see what you're doing?
-She could be pregnant.

I'm not pregnant, asshole.
I'm on the pill.

Ibi, come here.
-No one told me.

Do I have to search the medicine cabinet
in case my daughter's pill is hidden there?

Or should I ask at dinner:

Who's on the pill, sweethearts?
Raise your hand.

Who has a venereal disease,
sweethearts? Raise your hand.

Who has been fucked in the ass
at school today. Raise your hand.

Hofmeester. Tirza Hofmeester.
With two e's.

Perhaps I should go there?
-Don't get all dramatic.

She's been gone for 16 days.

Okay. You go there. And then?

She'll be raped and murdered
by ten negroes. And there you are.

What kind of guy is that Choukri?
Moroccan?

What does he do?

Say something.
-He beat me at Monopoly.

When we were in Bladel.
-What were you doing there?

Tirza wanted to show him the cottage
on the way to the airport.

What does he do. Is he a student?
-Something with music.

Classical guitar.

And something in Social Work.

He has good manners, I have to admit.
He looked decent.

From a good family, I think.
Not a religious fanatic. But Muslim, of course.

He's good for her. Nice guy. Absolutely.
-But?

Why doesn't she answer my e-mails?
-That's not the guy's fault.

She has other things on her mind
besides e-mailing us.

Us? She isn't even aware you still exist.
-Jerk.

You know what they're doing?
-They don't need to go to Africa for that.

Your favorite daughter is just a slut.
-Shut up. You're the slut here.

I get it.
A hunky Arab. Yummy.

Welcome to Vodafone Voice Mail.
You have one new message.

Hi, dad. It's Ibi. Have you heard from Tirza?
I didn't. It's strange.

Call me when you have spoken to her.
All right? Bye.

My Sun Queen.

Where are you?

Jesus Christ.

Hi, this is Tirza's voice mail.
Please leave a nice message...

and I'll call back as soon as possible.

Sweetie, three guesses where I am now.
In Windhoek.

Listen, I'm staying
at the Thüringer Hof hotel.

Phone number: 61 22 60 31.

Call me when you get this message.
Love, daddy.

I'm 40 now
and living past 40 is not decent.

It's vulgar, immoral, Fyodor said.
Who lives past 40?

I'll tell you: idiots and rascals.

Tirza, stop it.
I often thought: what is...

Tirza!
What is Hell?

I'm of the opinion
that Hell is nothing but suffering...

caused by the fact of no longer
being able to love.

Look. Beautiful isn't it?

You're the most beautiful girl I know.
How was your cello lesson?

I'm not a girl. I'm a woman.

Or didn't you go again?
I'm not asking for my sake.

I'm a woman.

With tits and a belly.
And very long legs.

You are sweet, beautiful, highly gifted.
But you're not yet a woman.

Perhaps you should eat more.
Not just apples and crackers.

Tell me I'm a woman, daddy.
Say it. I'm a woman.

I'm a woman.
-No! Me!

No, you're...
-Your wife.

No, you're my daughter.
-Say: You're my wife.

You are my child, my daughter.
You always will be.

But daddy, you don't have a wife.

I'm the only woman you have.

Bastard!

Yes.
-And?

What 'and'? I just arrived.
-Now what?

I just explored the neighborhood.
It doesn't look dangerous.

It's small. Basically small.
-And now?

I have a bag in my suitcase
with some sort of blue cloth in it.

A Little present for Tirza.
A summer wrap.

Who is it?

Tomorrow I'm going to the consulate
and check out the hostels. So...

Call me when you know something.

And check your e-mail from time to time.
She might write.

I will.

Well...almost.

Do you want another cookie,
Mr. Hofmeester.

Jörgen, do you have Choukri's parents'
phone number. Good luck, Alma.

Yes, highly gifted.

It's against shame.

Shame.

I was just superfluous.

Perhaps I was always superfluous.
Who's to say?

To our failed existence.

They're not real pajamas,
but it's all I have.

Come on, Jörgen. You see?
The beast isn't dead.

Sorry, this is not working.

What?
-This. I'm sorry, but I can't fuck you.

Sorry.

I can't help it.
I find you repulsive.

All that muttering
and old geezer's wheezing.

Sorry.
I'd forgotten about that.

Oh my...

Worried about his highly gifted daughter.
Let her go.

You can't stand it that Tirza and I
are happy together.

But now she's gone
and you're all alone.

What will you do
without your little Tirza?

Welcome to Vodafone Voice Mail.
You have no messages.

Hey! Goddamn it!

Tirza!

Bad for your teeth!

Easy. She does come here
to check her e-mail.

Maybe she wrote me.

There are no new messages

Perhaps the connection is slow.

I know you can't read someone else's mail,
but necessity knows no law.

Two times two n's.

Sun Queen. Forgive me.

Why don't you read or write anything?
Silly girl.

Oh, my little girl...

You can't just disappear like that.

Tirza.

Did I do something
I shouldn't have done?

Sweetie, you really have to eat.

We love you, don't we?
Ibi and I.

You know that, don't you?

Mom too, of course.

You don't have to be the best all the time.
You don't need to be anything.

We love you the way you are.

Sweetie.

I know, dad.

But I can't stop.

It's too late.

Apparently that's possible.
Just disappear.

Typically a white middle class disease, sir.

Kaisa...

Tirza...
Damn it.

Kaisa?

Fuck off.

Yes?
-Why don't I hear anything from you?

Jesus! Do you know where I am?
-Why don't you respond to my e-mails?

If you're worried about me, don't be.
-Not about you. About Tirza.

I think she went to the coast or the desert.
I'll go and have a look.

Have a look? It's not a school trip.

Are you on safari, or something?

Perhaps you should go to the police
to report her missing.

Damn it. Your daughter is missing.
I want you to do something.

You've never been a father. Maybe a friend.
A lover. But a father isn't a lover.

Just because you're too cold to touch her.

You poisoned her.
-You left her in the lurch.

Reading Tolstoy to a 12-year old!
-Dostoevsky. She liked it.

She never had any peace:
Swimming, cello, ballet lessons...

Someone had to do it.
-That ridiculous, selfish care of yours.

If I did something wrong,
I wouldn't know what.

Why do you think
she didn't want to eat anymore?

Why do you think Ibi fled to France?
Did you ever think about that?

You destroyed her. You!

Yes, it's me.

I'm the one.
Yes. Fine. So what?

It's me, it's me.

Go away.

That's right.
I'm the white middle class disease.

Finally!

Dear Dad, sorry you haven't heard
from me for so long, but I'm in the desert...

and there are not a lot of phones.
When we get back to civilization I'll call.

Don't worry. I'm happy. I feel
like a princess. Lots of kisses, Tirza.

Your very own Sun Queen.

Wow, it's beautiful.

Is there any mineral water left?
-Yes, I'll go get some.

Dad, this is Choukri.
-Hello. Jörgen.

You smell of fish.
Dad is the best cook in the world.

To this day! To your happiness
and that of all people. Cheers.

Don't you drink alcohol?
-No.

According to Spinoza, you can't be happy
if your happiness makes others unhappy.

Somewhere else he writes...
-No Spinoza or Dostoevsky, okay?

We're going to dance.

Would you like a sardine?

They're fresh.
What about you?

Do you want a fish?

Do you want a nice sardine?
-No.

Scheherazade adresssed Sultan Sjahriar
and asked:

Do I have permission
to tell a story?

Wonderful that fish.
I love fish.

What's his name again?
-Choukri, dad. I told you.

Could it be that I saw you on TV?

No, I play the guitar.
I don't appear on TV.

But we've met before.
We know each other, don't we?

No. We really don't.

We never met until now.

In the grocery store nearby?
-Choukri never comes here. Right?

No, I live near the station.
-Near the station...

Still, I know you from somewhere.

That's what she wrote.
She's in the desert.

Isn't that a relief?
-Why didn't she call or e-mail sooner?

Be happy she's still alive.
-Of course I'm happy.

She's in the desert. Everything is fine.
-And now?

Jörgen, is something wrong?
Are you coming home now?

I just rented a car to go and visit her.
Now that I'm here...

Keep in touch, okay?

Everything will be fine, won't it?
Right?

I'm Ester. Without an 'h'.

I need that crate.

Why don't you come in?
This is the shed.

Can't I stay here?
I enjoy being alone for a while.

Sure. If that's what you want.

Shall I get you something to read?
Today's paper?

I don't like reading.
-Fine.

I'm going to caress myself softly.
Like this.

Do you want something to drink?

Orange juice.

Sir?

Have you ever been caressed softly?

What are you eating?
-A tomato.

A tomato?
There are so many wonderful snacks.

I feel like eating a tomato.

Are you ill?
-It's not for me. It's for...

What's her name?
Ester. Without an 'h'.

I can see your bra-strap.
-It's supposed to be like that.

What do you think of him?
-Who?

Choukri!
-This is heaven. Pure heaven.

Want one?
-No, later.

Tell me what you think of him.
-He reminds me of someone.

He looks like that French actor:
Alain Sautel.

With the beautiful voice.

No, not an actor.
Not in the usual sense of the word.

Mohammed Atta.
-Who?

Same face, same hair, same eyes.

Dad!
-What?

Don't do this.
-What am I doing?

What you're doing.
Let me be happy.

He won't make you happy.
Atta will be your undoing.

Stop it with that Atta.
He's called Choukri and he's my boyfriend.

I know what he wants
and what he's up to.

Mohammed Atta is dead.

That's what they say.
They say he's not alive anymore.

But there are thousands, tens of thousands,
millions of Mohammed Attas left.

Is it that bad?

You can hang out
with whoever you want.

A black guy, a junkie,
as far as I'm concerned.

A Vietnamese guy. I don't care.

But not a terrorist.
-Stop it.

Stop what?

Calling my boyfriend a terrorist.
-What should I call him then?

A freedom fighter?
A victim of a faulty doctrine.

A hajjiii?

I know perfectly well what a hajjiii is.

It's someone who went to Mecca
and may call himself a hajjiii.

Stop it.

Choukri isn't into politics.
He makes music.

And I love him.

What do you know about love?
-What do you know about it, daddy?

Who were you capable of loving?
-You. I was capable of loving you.

I love Choukri.

Sweetie, he's using you.
-I use him too. That's what love is.

Believe me. I'm a good judge of people.
He is Mohammed Atta.

Then I love Mohammed Atta.
-I'm trying to protect you from danger.

There is no danger.
It's all in your mind.

But there is.

I see it. I feel it.

I smell it.

The same flesh.
That same look.

The same thoughts, of course.

The same hate against us. Against...

Hate against who we are,
why we are the way we are...

and what we are.
That's why he took everything from me.

First my wife and then all my money.
And now Tirza as well.

No one can take anything from you.
You have nothing.

It's great to be a nobody, isn't it?
So what if someone kills you?

In fact, you're already dead.

Here, take this!
Bastard!

What are you doing?

An overrated activity.

It's not a big deal, really.

Except for the humiliation.
Adult sexuality is about humiliation.

The pleasure is in the humiliation.

And in humiliation, you find redemption.

But where's the limit?
What's normal?

Is a bleeding anus still normal?

She looks exactly
like my cleaning lady.

When my wife disappeared,
I got involved with the cleaning lady.

She's from Ghana.

It has to be near here somewhere.
I always took her on the couch.

Always from behind.
On Thursday afternoons.

In the living room.

Wonderful. From behind.

Such a relief, you can't imagine.

When she licked her shit from my dick,
I lost all excess baggage.

No more shame. No more guilt.
Nothing.

I was nothing.

And everything, at the same time.

I was the beast I always wanted to be.

Mr. Hofmeester?
Do you like me?

Tirza?

No. Let go off me.
Let go off me!

People are sleeping.

Don't touch me. Go away.

But she seduced me.
-Oh, shut up.

She's in my class.

I'm sorry,
but I'm just a man after all.

Shut up. You're not a man.
You're dirty. Get lost.

Jörgen, are you there?

I can hardly hear you.
The connection is bad.

Choukri's mother phoned me.
She still hasn't heard anything.

What do they think?
That the desert is full of phone booths?

They should know better, being desert people
themselves. -They're going to the police.

What? Sorry, I can hardly hear you.

Have you heard from Tirza,
in the meantime?

One more day's drive
and I'll see her.

Tell Tirza I love her
when you see her.

If you want me to, I will.

Yes. Please.
And do you have that dress with you?

Of course. I'm sure she'll love it.

It's a real desert dress.
-And Jörgen?

How will things be?
Between us?

We should never have
abandoned each other.

I never abandoned you.

What the hell?

I think we missed a turn.

Dad?

What's going to happen?

With you.

Play for me.

I'm exhausted.

You can do it.
-Answer me first.

What was the question again?
-What possessed you with Ester.

Here.

I'll pay you.

You really are out of your mind.
-For Namibia.

One more time.
You'll be gone soon.

I don't mind playing for you,
but not now.

What's to become of you?

When I'll be in Africa.

When I don't live here anymore.

Should I be worried?

Play for me.

Why is that so important to you?

Because it makes me happy.

And that's what you pay me for?

My Sun Queen.

Why does everything hurt so much?

Why does everything hurt
so very, very much?

Tirza...

Hi, this is Tirza's voice mail.

Leave a nice message
and I'll call back as soon as possible.

No, no, no...

Tirza!

Yes.

What is he saying?

It was so loveless.

I suddenly became aware of it.
So heartless.

The beast.
No love, just fury.

She's getting laid.
That's what kept going through my mind.

My daughter's getting laid.
I could see his buttocks.

Mohammed Atta's buttocks.

I thought: They're so white.

Such a white butt for a Moroccan.
How funny.

I saw them go up and down,
those buttocks.

Of course, I should have sneaked off,
but I didn't.

It was so loveless.

And suddenly she saw me.

Tirza looked at me.
Surprised. Not angry.

She looked most of all surprised.
I remember what I thought then:

She's so beautiful and sweet.

A sweet little face
and such beautiful eyes.

Sweet-natured.
A Sun Queen.

My Sun Queen.

My dearest, dearest Sun Queen.

And then I picked up the poker
and hit her on the head.

She collapsed immediately.

I hit her again and again.

When I did that I kept thinking:

You are my own darling Sun Queen.

Please! Please!

Perhaps you should pray.

Maybe Allah will come to your rescue.
Allah helps Atta.

Or the prophet will come to your rescue.
Here. Go on: pray.

Pray!

lf you don't want to pray,
you shall eat, Atta.

I'm not Atta!

Please.

I'm not Atta.

Let's see who's mightier:
Allah or the MX 190.

And then I pruned him.

Like a fruit tree.

Like a sick fruit tree
with dead branches.

First the left side,
then the right side.

Next, the bottom.

And finally the top.

Kaisa.

My Kaisa.

Then I dug a hole in the garden...

and I put the children in it.

The next morning I drove to the airport...

where I waved the children goodbye.

Until I could see them no longer.

Jörgen, please call me back.

You have to come home.

They've found her.

Goddamn it, stupid child!
Go away.

Go away.

Damn it.

Kaisa.