All language subtitles for Lenz.eng.srt

LENZ by George Moorse
premiered in March 1971

and won the Filmband in Gold
at the German Film Award.

In 2022, the film was digitised
in 4K resolution and restored in 2K

on behalf of Deutsche Kinemathek
at PHAROS - The Post Group.

The original film material, presumably
16mm reversal film, didn't survive.

Digitisation was based
on a 35mm blow-up negative,

the sound was taken
from the 16mm sound mix.

Digitisation was funded
by the German film heritage program.

BASED ON A NOVELLA BY GEORG BÜCHNER

WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY
GEORGE MOORSE

PRODUCTION:

20TH JANUARY 1778

Welcome.

I'm a friend of Kaufmann's
who sends his regards.

What is your name?

Lenz.

Yes, I have read some of your plays.

Yes, but please do not
judge me by them.

Please, have a seat.

Mr. Lenz will stay with us
for a while.

Where are you from?

I'm from Seßwegen.
My father was a pastor there.

I was then in Dorpat and Riga.

Do you know Riga?

A beautiful city.

I... I studied at Königsberg.

I then travelled as a tutor
and companion

to the brothers Georg
and Nikolaus von Kleist

via Berlin and Leipzig
to Strasbourg.

And then, having left the Kleists...

You know,
I could not be their companion anymore.

I then earned a crust
by giving private lessons.

I went on to Weimar
and then to see my parents in Seßwegen.

Do you know the Baltic area?

Mr. Lenz! Mr. Lenz!

I'm used to... having cold baths.

Up there on the hill...

a radiance was blinding my eyes.

A voice spoke to me.

Like a child,

I took out my Watchwords booklet.

And then I knew
what I was meant to do.

Mother...

I'd like to deliver
the sermon some time.

Are you a theologian?

Yes.

Very well.

Next Sunday.

Lord, whom I know for his love

You bring sickness unto me

Fan the flame of suffering

That I feel the fire sting

Would thou burnest inside me

All things make the spirit stall

And decrease the love for all

That would bring my soul to thee!

Jesus Christ,

who, like us,
was conceived with human features,

grew in age, wisdom,

and mercy with God and all men.

He had no concern
for His own physical state.

He had nowhere to bed his head on.

He did not seek personal honour,

but he travelled around,

teaching, performing good deeds,

and promoting God's glory.

So far did he go
in sacrificing his own happiness,

he not only gave his own life,

but he even -

and this deed
makes our innermost soul shudder -

forsook the highest,
the only possible beatitude,

the union with God,

seeing himself abandoned by God
for three hours on the cross.

This is the only perception of hell
the Bible gives us.

And he, the one closest do divinity,

was furthest removed from it
during those three hours.

Godly, childlike, infinite mystery

into which the angels crave to gaze.

A love

we must worship
with veiled countenance

in the dust of attached reason.

Suffering is now my calling

Nothing else can I pursue

But to rest in suffering

Suffer must now all my powers

Suffering is now my prize

This is now our Father's will

Which I honour, meek and still

In suffering my worship lies

One, two, three, four
One, two, three, four

When I rise before the dawn

To sweep chimneys in the morn'

I look up and down my brush

As there is no need to rush

Trala-tralalee

Trala-tralalee

I look up and down my brush

As there is no need to rush

One, two, three, four
One, two, three, four

Once my brush is up to scratch

My mouth cover I attach

With my iron tool on tight

You'll have sweeping done tonight

Trala-tralalee

Trala-tralalee

With my iron tool on tight

You'll have sweeping done tonight

Keeping my brush close at hand

On the convent wall I stand

And I tell the maidens right

You'll have sweeping done tonight

Trala-tralalee

Trala-tralalee

And I tell the maidens right

You'll have sweeping done tonight

One, two, three, four
One, two, three, four

In July when summer's there

Time to kiss the maidens fair

And my brother Nicholas will rush

All the chimneys he will brush

Trala-tralalee

Trala-tralalee

And my brother Nicholas will rush

All the chimneys he will brush

One, two, three, four
One, two, three, four

Fair Joanna don't you weep

You're the first I'm going to sweep

Next up, Sister Gloria

Hannah and Cecilia

Trala-tralalee

Trala-tralalee

Next up, Sister Gloria

Hannah and Cecilia

One, two, three, four
One, two, three, four

Farmer, tie your dog up tight

So I can avoid his bite

If he bites me, I shall sue

A thousand coins I'll get from you

Trala-tralalee

Trala-tralalee

If he bites me, I shall sue

A thousand coins I'll get from you

My mother appeared to me
in the night.

I am certain she has died.

But it does not upset me.

When my father died,
I was alone in the fields.

I then heard a voice

to let me know my father was dead.

When I returned home,
I learned that it was just so.

There are people
in the mountains, girls,

who can sense water
and metals below the ground.

Men are being gripped on mountaintops
and grapple with a spirit.

Once, in the mountains,
I entered in some kind of somnambulism

as I gazed into
a deep empty mountain stream.

The water spirit came over you.

You felt some part
of your unique being.

The simplest, purest form of nature

is the one
which is closest to the elements.

The more delicately man
feels and lives,

the more this sense
of the elements is blunted.

It must be a feeling
of infinite bliss

being moved by this unique life
in all its guises.

Everything is permeated
by indescribable harmony,

by one sound, one blissfulness.

White is the colour of light,

the symbol of joy, innocence

and of eternal glory
at holy festivals.

It reigns on weekdays
and Sundays of the Easter period

and serves the holy sacrament
and at the burial of small children.

Red is the colour of blood and fire,

a symbol of the all-devouring
flames of the love

that is sparked in our hearts
by the Holy Spirit.

The sacrificial, victorious love

which forfeits
our most precious earthly asset, life,

in martyrdom to triumph in death.

Green is the colour
of youthful fresh life, of fertility,

of divine mercy,

and also of hope and beatitude.

Black, the opposite of white,

is the colour
of extinguished life and joy,

of death and the grave,

a symbol of deepest grief
and mourning caused by death.

It prevails on Good Friday
and at services for the deceased.

Black corresponds
to melancholy people

whereas white corresponds to the water
and mucus of phlegmatic people.

Yellow, by contrast,
is the colour of the earth,

of the wind and of health.

It corresponds to the fire
and bile of choleric people.

Red corresponds
to the sanguine type.

Pyknic people immerse themselves
in the world of colours.

Slender people, however,

primarily perceive
merely the physical shape of things.

There are 12 colours
for the 12 apostles,

the 12 houses in the sky,

the 12 types of personality.

And blue...

Blue is the colour of nothingness.

And I witnessed a new heaven

and a new earth.

For the first heaven and the first earth
were passed away,

and there was no more sea.

And I saw the holy city,

the new Jerusalem,

coming down from God out of heaven,

prepared as a bride
adorned for her husband.

And I heard
a great voice out of heaven

saying,

behold,
the tabernacle of God is with men.

And he will dwell with them,

and they shall be his people,

and God himself shall be with them.

And God shall wipe away
all tears from their eyes,

and there shall be no more death,

neither sorrow, nor crying,

neither shall there be
any more pain,

for the former things
are passed away.

Kaufmann...

What is this, true beauty?

The writers
who are said to depict reality

know nothing of it.

But they are still more bearable
than those intent on glorifying reality.

Reality...

What I demand in everything is life,

the opportunity to exist,
that will suffice.

We are not to question
whether a thing is beautiful or ugly.

The sense of something
being created, given life,

supersedes these two and is
the only criterion for a work of art.

Incidentally,
we rarely come across it.

We find it in Shakespeare,

in folk songs,
occasionally in Goethe.

Everything else
can be committed to the flames.

People can't even draw
a dog's kennel.

We want idealistic characters,

but all I've seen of it
were wooden puppets.

This idealism holds human nature
in the most outrageous contempt.

If we gave it a try and lowered ourselves
to the life of the least privileged

and depicted it
in its convulsive suggestions

and all its delicate,
hardly noticed expressions...

I attempted it in my "Tutor"
and "The Soldiers".

They're the most prosaic people
under the sun.

But the emotional core
is the same in almost everyone.

What varies is the density
of the shell they break through.

You just need eyes and ears for it.

You need to love humanity

to empathise
with each individual being.

No one must be
too lowly or too ugly.

Only then can you understand them.

The most insignificant face
leaves a deeper impression

than the mere experience of beauty.

You won't find types like the Belvedere
Apollo or Raphael's Madonna in real life.

So what?

I must confess
it makes me feel quite dead.

I prefer the poet or artist
who presents nature most realistically,

so his depiction stirs feelings in me.

Everything else annoys me.

A man of great intelligence,

with doubts about his subsistence,

a favourite child of providence,

no true friend of jurisprudence,

but a poet of great licence.

I clearly see the evidence

from head to toe, he's a lazy Lenz,

without equal in his consistence,

therefore mark this sentence,

all is lost for
Jakob Michael Reinhold Lenz.

I received a letter from your father.

He wants you to return
to support him.

You're wasting your life here,
without any purpose.

Set yourself a goal, do something.

Go back to your father's.

Away from here...

Away...

Back home...

Going insane there...

You know I can't stand living anywhere
apart from up here, in this area.

Just leave me in peace.

A little peace, now I'm starting
to feel more comfortable.

"Away... away..."

Those two words can ruin the world.

I find it bearable here
and I want to stay.

Why? Why?

Because I'm comfortable.

What does my father want?
Can he offer more?

Impossible.

Just leave me alone!

I'm travelling to Switzerland
with Kaufmann.

I'm visiting Lavater.

We're leaving tomorrow.

You are the only human being,
Mr. Oberlin.

Please don't leave, Pastor.

I need your calmness, Mr. Oberlin.

A holy pain pierces my heart,

and, Lord, what can I say?

Good evening.

Good evening.

I can only beat my breast
in deep humility.

You loved me
and sacrificed yourself for my sins.

Where could greater love,
greater grace ever be found?

Thou hast done it, I worship you,
O King of the redeemed.

In you I shall find
devout solace in death.

"It is done!", you called with might.

You prove that
you have given your life

in free and divine atonement.

Holiest of deeds!

The highest council
I shall devoutly honour.

The inventor of my salvation
will one day explain it to me.

Almightily he, who passed on,
called to the dead, and they arose!

Easily, the Lord of life
escapes the throes of death.

I shall cross the dark valley
without fear...

I see angels stood in front of you

as you come into present view.

Let me, by and by,
seek to please you...

...cry out in gratitude to you.

Were I to forget you,

then I shall be forgot in eternity.

Lord, I shall, as long as I live,

try to fathom your love.

O tearfulness, o heartbreak,
are we not to mourn?

God, our father's only child
to the grave is born.

O great woe, God himself is dead,
upon the cross he died.

In doing so, to heaven
he will lead us as our guide.

O sons of men,

your sins alone
have caused this holy void,

When, through this outrageous deed,
you were all destroyed.

Your bridegroom, your lamb of God,

covered in blood we view,

Which, in his great clemency,
he has shed for you.

O sweetest mouth,

o cause of faith,

battered without defence.

Every living thing on earth
your destiny laments.

O lovely image, gentle, mild,

you are the virgin's son.

No one can your blood behold
without remorse to come.

Blessed is he, who in good time,
thinks about this well,

how the glorious Lord of Lords
in his grave will dwell.

O Christ, you are my help and calm,
I beg of you in tears,

let me until my dying day

wish that you are near.

As you, Jesus, our Lord,
found calm and peace

resting in your grave,

let us all rest in you
and please you with what we do.

Give us, o Lord, courage and strength
traded in with your blood...

Blessed is he that
considers the poor,

the Lord will deliver him
in time of trouble.

The Lord will preserve him,
and keep him alive,

and he shall be blessed
upon the earth,

and thou wilt not deliver him
unto the will of his enemies.

I heard a voice in the mountains.

Then I looked up.

Above the valleys,

swathes of lightning,

I was gripped.

I grappled with it, like Jacob.

Thou hast done it, I worship you,

O King of the redeemed.

In you I shall find
devout solace in death.

"It is done!", you called with might.

You prove that
you have given your life

in free and divine atonement.

Holiest of deeds!

The highest council
I shall devoutly honour.

The inventor of my salvation
will one day explain it to me.

Almightily he, who passed on,
called to the dead...

There, on the cliff opposite,

a church.

My soul, wait thou only upon God.

For my expectation is from him.

He is my rock and my salvation,
he is my defence,

I shall not be moved.

In God is my salvation and my glory.

The rock of my strength,

and my refuge, is in God.

God is a refuge

and men of high degree are a lie.

They are lighter than vanity.

Trust not in oppression,

and become not vain in robbery.

If riches increase,

set not your heart upon them.

Goodbye.

This is when my mourning starts

Alas, the time is near

He who I loved a year ago

No longer I hold dear

My heart is made of iron and steel

And also jewels fine

If only my sweetheart was to know

For me sad tears he'd cry

Dearest Mrs. Oberlin,

can't you tell me
what that woman is doing,

whose fate weighs so heavy
on my soul?

Why, Mr. Lenz, I know nothing.

...joined by the stars so bright

They have a living floating garden

In the firmament's delight

My garden entirely of joy was built

Upon a swamp so black...

You see, I want to leave.

God, you are the only people
I could bear staying with.

And yet...

And yet I have to go.

To her.

But I can't.

I mustn't.

God willing I had died so soon

Still in my younger years

You see...

When she used to cross the room,

there was such blissfulness in her,

and it overflowed into me.

I was always calm
hen I looked at her.

Or when she put her head against me.

She retreated to within herself.

I could have played like a child.

But now I feel confined.

Confined.

You see,

I sometimes feel
my hands are touching the sky.

I'm suffocating.

I often feel as if
I'm experiencing physical pain,

there, in my left side,
in the arm I used to hold her with.

And yet I can no longer picture her.

The image escapes me.

And that torments me.

Only when...

I occasionally experience brightness

do I feel rather well again.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

God...

Give me a sign.

Please, a sign.

Please.

I beg of you.

A sign.

A child died at Fouday.

Her name was Friederike.

A child died at Fouday.

Her name was Friederike.

Get me an old sack.

An old sack!

O God...

O God...

O my God,

give me a sign.

Perform a sign upon me
and revive the child.

O God, I am too weak and miserable.

O God,

how weak and miserable am I.

Please...

Please, I beg of you,

give me a sign.

Perform a sign for me
and revive the child.

Get up!

Sinning

against the Holy Spirit

is what awaits me.

Mr. Lenz, you should comply
with your father's wishes.

Go back to Livonia and start a life
as part of the rural clergy.

You must understand.

You have a responsibility,

towards the authorities.

And a responsibility towards...
towards your parents.

Honour your mother and father.

Yes, but I can't bear it!

Are you driving me away?

Only you can be my path to God.

I lost my faith.

I'm the Wandering Jew.

This is what Jesus died for.

Turn to him.

Pray.

Pah...

Divine solace...

And how is the woman?

How is the woman?

I don't know.

I want to help you in every way.

But before I counsel you,
you must share with me

the place, the person
and the situation.

Oh, is she dead?

Or still alive?

The angel.

She loved me.

And I loved her.

She was worthy of it.

The angel.

Cursed jealousy.

I sacrificed her.

I loved her.

She was worthy of it.

Oh, dear mother, oh, she loved me.

I am your murderer.

Maybe they're all still alive.

And happy.

God can,
once you devoted yourself to him...

answer the prayers
and tears of these people

and bestow so much good upon them

that the benefit they gain

maybe outweigh the damage
you caused.

I'm certain of it.

Listen to me, Mr. Lenz.

Pray.

Flog me.

These are the only strokes
I give you.

Be calm...

and with God.

Your sins
will not be atoned for by flogging.

This is what Jesus died for.

You turn to Jesus.

Friederike.

Friederike.

Good morning, Mr. Lenz.

You didn't come down for breakfast.

Mr. Lenz!

Mr. Lenz,
is there anything I can do for you?

Yes, Pastor.

You see...

The boredom...

The boredom...

Oh, I'm so bored.

I don't know what to say anymore.

Place your trust in God.

Yes...

If I was as lucky as you

to find such a comfortable pastime...

Yes, it would be easy
to fill your time that way.

It's all idleness.

For most people pray out of boredom.

Others fall in love out of boredom.

Others yet are virtuous.

Still others are sinful.

And I am nothing.

Nothing at all.

I can't even be bothered
to kill myself.

It's too boring.

O God, in your light's bright ray,

The scorching heat of your midday,

My eyes have woken themselves sore.

Will night be absent evermore?

I just thought of something
after all.

If only I could distinguish
between dreaming and waking.

You see?

That's very important.

Let's examine it further.

Please straighten my arm.

I dislocated it.

I threw myself out the window.

But... nobody saw it.

I didn't tell anyone about it either.

Dear Mr. Scheidecker,

Mr. Lenz does not feel his heart is pure
and childlike enough to follow my advice.

Some time ago,
God made him suffer a serious disease.

He is very disheartened
and requires encouragement.

God will bless it all.

Please come soon,

Mr. Scheidecker.

Is Mr. Oberlin not here?

He's visiting someone nearby.

I'll come back tomorrow, then.

Stay!

I want to go for a walk.

I can hardly walk.

So weak...

What do you want from me?

What do you want from me?

Go away!

Go away!

Christian!

I was in my shop.

He walked through it
and said he was a murderer.

No, he's no murderer.

They boy took him up there
and bound him.

There! There, you see? There! There!

I didn't want to do it.

He forced me to do it.

He said he was a murderer.

I was scared of him.

You'll stay with us now.

I thank you.

Mr. Lenz, I beseech you,

don't bathe outside anymore.

Spend the night in bed.

Get some sleep.

If you can't settle down,

talk to God.

Yes.

Holy Spirit...

Sin...

Sin...

Jesus Christ...

Dear Pastor,

the woman I mentioned to you,

she died.

Yes, she died, the angel.

How do you know?

Hieroglyphics...

Hieroglyphics.

Yes, she died.

Hieroglyphics.

Father, I have sinned.

In heaven...

and against you.

I am no longer worthy...

to call myself your child.

Jakob Michael Lenz.

Add a few lines, Pastor.

I have nothing.

You see?

Do you understand?

Mr. Lenz?

One day, as I...

as I...

I...

I...

I am Satan!

There is nothing, only me.

You're all just figments
of my imagination!

I am Satan!

Satan!

I am Satan!

I'm Satan!

Satan!

Dorpat... Riga...

Georg... Nikolaus Kleist...

Fort-Louis...

Bread...

Friederike... Friederike...

Consistent... consistent...

Seßwegen...

Consistent... consistent...

Mr. Lenz.

God will help you.

Place your trust in God.

Possessed!

He is possessed!

He's possessed!

You talk to me of God, Mr. Oberlin.

But I...

if I were almighty...

You see, if I was like this...

I could not bear the suffering.

I would save...

save...

All I want is quiet.

Quiet.

Just some peace and quiet
so I can sleep.

This is a profanation.

He didn't come down this morning.

I'll go up.

It's too hard...

It's all so hard...

I don't think I can walk.

I can finally feel
the enormous weight of the air.

You must have courage, Mr. Lenz.

Won't you eat something?

Mr. Lenz.

Good evening.

Good evening, Pastor.

I had to attend to a sick man.

But now I'm heading home.

Would you like to join me?

No, thank you, I'm going for a walk.

Promise me you won't go too far.

I promise.

That's good.

Goodnight, Mr. Lenz.

Goodnight, Pastor.

You see, Pastor,

if only I didn't have
to listen to this anymore,

I would be much better.

Can't you hear it?

Can't you hear the horrific voice

that screams
around the whole horizon

and which is
usually called "silence"?

Ever since I've been in this silent valley
I always hear it.

It won't let me sleep.

Yes, Pastor,

if only I could get some sleep again.

He's come back.

That's good.

Subtitles:
Subtext Berlin, 2022