All language subtitles for Land.Of.Silence.And.Darkness.1971.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MXingles]

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I see a path before me

that leads across bare fields

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and and there are clouds
flying overhead.

LAND OF SILENCE AND DARKNESS

FROM THE LIFE OF THE DEAF-BLIND
FINI STRAUBINGER

As a child,
when I could still see and hear,

I watched
a ski-jumping competition.

And one thing
keeps coming back -

those men
going through the air -

I looked at their faces.

I wish you could see that.

I always jump when I'm touched.
Years go by in waiting.

Could Miss Straubinger

tell us about the animals?

That was a great joy for us.

First we went to the quadrupeds.

There was a hind, a full-size one -

the animals all are full size -

to give the blind
an idea of them.

The hind's skin was wonderful.

There was a stag's head
with really big antlers.

The neck was there as well.

Its mouth was open.

I was amazed by its size.

There were hares too,

in a jumping
or in a sitting position.

You could feel it very well.

There were also mice,
which gave some people the creeps.

The second room contained birds.

A woodpecker on a tree -

very interesting -

and then its little brother,
the great spotted woodpecker

I was delighted.

These long beaks!

And a pheasant
with its long feathers.

What a pity
you can't see the colours!

Can Miss Julie tell us
about the animals?

They're asking you

if you could also

tell us about the animals.

I don't remember much any more.

She doesn't remember much any more.

Tell us what you do remember.

I touched a lot of animals

I had never seen before.

Pheasants, crocodiles,

snakes, tigers, lions...

and many others.

Also European animals.

Goats, deer, hares,

foxes and even a mouse.

THE FIRST FLIGHT

MEMORIES

I was a very lively child.

I made it quite difficult
for my mother.

She always tried to rein me in.

My father died at the age of 33.

I was not yet six.

And when I wasn't being watched,

I could do whatever I liked.

That's how, when I was nine,

I fell down the stairs.

I did a somersault

from the third
to the second floor.

I fell on my back, and my neck
with such force

that a neighbour
thought he'd heard shooting.

He asked me if I was hurt.

I told him I wasn't,

and I asked him
not to tell my mother.

I climbed up the stairs on all fours

because I couldn't walk.

I must have had a terrible shock.

I sat down by the window
and prayed.

"Guardian Angel, please make
that my mother won't hit me."

From that day,
I always felt sick,

and I always had a headache,
which I'd never had before.

The doctor said,
when I started getting sick,

it was due to my growing up.

A second one agreed.

Only the third doctor said
that the child had fallen.

I always paid attention at school.

I was very interested.

One day the teacher told me,

"Fini, you should write
on the lines."

I said, "Yes, of course."

It made me think,

and I noticed that I couldn't see
the lines any more.

I wanted to learn embroidering,

but very soon I had to give it up.

The teacher said,
"Go home.

"You can't see it anyway."

And I didn't want to knit.

That was the beginning
of the end.

First I went blind.

I was 15 years and 9 months old.

Then I had to stay in bed.

My eyes were badly inflamed.

At 18 I began to have
ear troubles.

At first I didn't understand
those sounds,

and one day
I was completely deaf.

Mother talked to me
and I didn't hear her.

She came to my bed and asked,
"Why don't you answer me?"

I said, "Did you say something?"

"Yes, but you don't answer."

I said I hadn't heard anything.

We were very frightened.

It changed constantly -

sometimes
I couldn't hear in the right ear,

and sometimes
I couldn't hear in the left ear.

I wanted to see a doctor.
I wanted to get help.

I took foot-baths,

I prayed fervently,
but it was no use.

Gradually I lost my hearing,

up to a rest of 5%.

I fled to religion.

It gave me strength,

but this terrible loneliness
stayed on.

People promised to visit me,

but they didn't come.

And when they came, they sat
on my bedside and talked to my mother

and I was very quiet.

And when I talked,
my mother hit me lightly.

"Be quiet!
I'll tell you what they said later."

But I wanted to participate as well.

How long did you stay in bed?

Nearly 30 years.

Time and again I tried to get up.

There were periods
when I couldn't move at all.

Those were awful times.

The doctor found that it was an ailment,
and that it could take a long time,

and he took me off the morphine.

It was difficult,
but I got through it.

People think deafness
means silence,

but that's wrong.

It's a constant noise in one's head,

going from a gentle humming,

like trickling sand,

through some cracking sounds

to a steady droning,
which is the worst one of all.

You don't know
what to do any more.

It's an ordeal!

Sometimes you get so irritable,
you can't help yourself.

It's the same for the blind.

It isn't total darkness.

You often see
all kinds of colours.

Black, grey, white,

blue, green, yellow...
it depends.

Hello, Mr Messmer.

I'm very glad

you came here.

For her 56th birthday,
Fini has invited friends

who are also blind and deaf.

Such a gathering
isn't easy to organise,

because every deaf-blind person
needs someone to accompany them

to guide them and to translate
what is being said into their hands,

as the deaf-blind can neither see
nor hear each other.

Hello!

Hello, Ms Meier.

Mr Forster?
Where is Mr Forster?

Hello, Mr Forster.

Please translate everything we say
for Ms Meier.

She still sees a bit.

But they also need help,

so they don't find
themselves unprepared

in the land of silence
and darkness.

Hello, dear Juliet.

Where is...

...Mr Hundhammer?

Noble friend George,
where are you?

Here.
Hello, Mr Hundhammer.

Thank you for looking after Juliet.

Hello.

Is everybody here?

- Yes.
- Yes, everyone's here.

Who's there?

Ms Augustin?

No, it's the "Little Snail".

Hello, my "Little Snail".

Good afternoon, everybody.

Who's going to say a poem?

Please translate
for the deaf-blind.

I will speak slowly,
so people can follow.

For when the deaf-blind
can't follow things

and keep staring
into the void

they are very depressed.

I will recite a poem

reflecting on our situation.

The title is,
"The Most Wonderful Art".

To stay apart

When others have fun

But being happy all the time

Gladly carrying out

The most sacred task

Renouncing in a noble way
one's personal desires

Living in darkness

From the sun

But shining like a star

That is the art that only one

Whose soul is bent on heaven
can understand

Can I start?

Ann with the beautiful hat

Which becomes you so well

You make up for joy

You have cleaned our stairs

For which I thank you here

Today and every day

For things well done
is what I like most of all

You may touch it.

In the afternoon, Fini and her guests
go to the botanical garden.

You can touch it lightly.

It's like a column.

Shaped like columns...

Do you want to touch it briefly?
Carefully!

Lots of cactuses.
Like a column.

This one's interesting.

You should write that.

How noble!

This is the cactus' fruit.

The fruit of the cactus.

You can take one.

This is the fruit.

The indigenous people eat it.

It's very meaty.

Who eats it?

The indigenous people.

- Are they ripe?
- No, it's too small.

You have to peel it.

You have to peel it first.

- Can I eat it?
- Not like this.

Thank you.

Look!

There are hardly any spines on this.

A bamboo stick!

- It's a bamboo, isn't it?
- No.

I thought it would be different.

Come January
we'll have a lot of work.

First the visits here

and then in the Upper Palatinate.

But nothing before Christmas.

I still have a lot to prepare.

Ms Schwarzhaber asked me
to prepare a game.

But how, what and when?

For four years, Fini Straubinger
has been visiting the deaf-blind of Bavaria

on behalf of
the League for the Blind.

Accompanied by
Resi Mittermeier,

who guides her and translates
everything into her hand,

she goes on frequent trips
to the countryside.

She makes contact
with the deaf-blind

and takes care of
their problems.

Ah, my ticket. Thank you.

If I were a gifted painter,

I'd represent
our condition like this...

Blindness like a black river,

flowing slowly like a melody
towards great falls.

On its banks,
beautiful trees and flowers

and birds singing beautifully.

The other river,
coming from the other side

is as clear as
the purest crystal.

This one also flows slowly,

but without any sound.

Deep down, there's
a very dark and deep lake,

where the two rivers meet.

Where they join,
there are rocks,

making the waters foam,

afterwards to let them flow
silently and slowly

into that somber reservoir

which lies in a deadly calm,

only troubled by
an occasional ripple,

representing the struggle
of the deaf-blind.

I don't know
if you can understand this.

The rocks who tear the waters

stand for the depression

that the blind and the deaf feel

when they become deaf-blind.

I can't explain it any better.

It's how I feel,
but it's hard to put in words.

In this neurological clinic in Bavaria,

Else Fährer has been living
for more than two years.

She is 48.

Her mother, the only person
who could communicate with her, is dead.

Hello, my sister in destiny.

It's our sign.

Miss Fährer spent two years
in a school for the blind in Munich

where she learned braille, but she forgot,
because she didn't practise.

As there was no care home
that wanted to take her,

she's ended up
in this lunatic asylum,

where she doesn't belong.

Else Fährer withdrew into herself.

She has never talked again.

When she still had her mother

she could understand
by touching the lips.

But that's all over now.

She keeps looking at you.

For you, Else, for you.

She still looks at you.

I am deaf and blind...

like you.

Deaf and blind.

Not a word.

Maybe that...

Blind...

deaf...

Yes?

You and I -
we share the same fate.

She needs to be looked after.

Poor dear,
no contact with the world.

She says nothing.

She's forgotten how to speak
after all these years.

From...

...Munich.

I am Fini Straubinger,
from Munich.

Does she talk?

- No.
- No.

But she looks around attentively.

When you let go of my hand,

it's as if we were
a thousand miles apart.

Another much neglected group

unable to assert its rights

in our affluent society

where only production counts

is the group of the disabled.

Society owes them more
than just the right to live.

It owes them
complete integration

in various aspects.

In fact this is all about

our moral attitude
towards those people.

And frankly, this attitude

still isn't up to the mark.

A society which doesn't respect
old people, sick people,

people with disabilities of any kind

as part of itself

is condemning itself.

That was quite an experience!

I was very moved
when the President came to me

and then took my hand in his.

His hand was cool, not cold.

And while I was telling him
about our needs,

I felt the pressure of his hand

as a sign of understanding.

This is what I told him...

Dear Mr President,

also think of deaf-blind people.

Help us get out of our isolation.

Help us find noble people

who can get us
out of our loneliness.

Could you explain us

the tactile translation?

Oh, yes.

It's a system
of dashes and dots.

But you must take great care

as to how to make them.

For instance, the short dots
are made with a downward move -

H, G, D, B -

P is an upward move.

W is...

For A, E, I, O, U

you touch the top
of the fingers.

Four fingers on the palm of the hand
make up a K.

One horizontal dash is a Z.

Everything goes like that...

...O, Y. Joy.

It takes a long time to understand.

Who makes you practice?

Practice?

Nobody.

My brother says
he can't remember it.

It would be easier for you
to talk to him.

He only speaks his dialect.

On a farm near Freising,
Fini visits Ursula and Joseph Riedmeier.

She is deaf and nearly blind.

She understands
by following the lips.

You only speak your dialect.

You can't talk properly.

Her brother is blind,
but has some hearing left.

You said you'd never learn
the blind alphabet.

You said you wouldn't be able
to remember it.

He said, "Straubinger."

I brought him a money-box.

Look...

Joseph,

I've brought you
a money-box.

To put in coins -

5 Pfennig, 1 DM, 2 DM...

- A groat?
- No, not a groat.

50 Pfennig.

See how it works.

When you need it, you press here,
and the money will come out.

Don't press too hard.

Don't press too hard.

Just try one.

Just press on it.

No, not quite...

It's our family home.

That's our vegetable garden.

That's the meadow.

Joseph often mowed it
with a scythe.

Poor man, what a chore!

The laundry...

Yes, of course...

A lot of laundry...

Where is he now?

- Where is he?
- Where is Joseph?

There he is!

Joseph!
I can't see or hear anything either.

I'm just like you.

We share the same fate.

Ask if he understood.

Did you understand?

Raise your head!

Straighten up!
You aren't that old.

These deaf-blind people
have never been to a zoo.

Some of them
haven't touched an animal for years.

It isn't hard
to give them pleasure,

but there aren't many people
who want to guide a deaf-blind person.

Don't you hurt me!

You're nice.

Can I hold it?

- Won't its mother reject it?
- No, no.

DEAF-BLIND BY BIRTH

This is Harald,
Miss Straubinger.

Harald is one of my first pupils.

He came here five years ago.

He came here as a wild child,

knocked everything over
and broke everything.

It was very hard
to establish a routine for him,

to give him tasks.

It took a year

to give him some notions
of the tactile alphabet.

Helen Keller says

that this discovery

is the spiritual birth
of the deaf-blind.

That really is the start
of education for those children.

As Michael,
who is sitting there beside you,

still hears a bit,

we didn't start with the tactile alphabet,

but we used the vibration method
discovered by the Americans.

The children touch the lips
to "read" the word,

and they repeat it.

Michael, this is a car

with a trailer.

It's very difficult

to guess at the thoughts
of our pupils,

how they think, what they feel.

In most cases it's just guesswork.

And it's a miracle if...

I still remember my visit
about two and a half years ago.

Harald was a little devil.

He was fascinated
by watches and tyres.

It's much harder still

to teach them abstract ideas.

We embed abstract ideas
in little stories.

When we want to explain
the meaning of "good" and "kind",

we say, "Harald gets up,

"Harald learns,

"Harald helps Sabine,

"Harald is good."

Then we try to show him
the opposite.

We say, "Harald hits Sabine,

"Harald drags Sabine,

"Harald takes something away
from Sabine."

Then we say, "Harald is bad."

This example illustrates

how we teach them good and bad.

Now let's go into the water.

Harald was afraid of water.

It took a year

to get him to follow his teacher
and go in.

Now I want him to get in
by himself.

They use headphones
in their languages classes.

Harald can feel
the vibration of the sound waves.

But even if these children can learn
to speak in complete sentences,

it's almost impossible
to teach them abstract ideas.

What the terms "ambition",
"hope" or "happiness" mean to them,

will always be a mystery to us.

- Say, "lamp".
- Lamp.

Say it quickly.
"Where?"

Yes, that's great! Very good.

Slowly! Slowly!
Harald can't do it as quickly.

Say, "car", but slowly!

No, at the back!

You cannot eat!

That was great!
Congratulations!

Vladimir Kokol is 22,
deaf-blind by birth.

All his life his father cared for him,

and he's never had
any special training.

He's never been encouraged to learn.

No one's ever attempted
to stimulate his mind.

Vladimir has never learned
to walk properly.

He will only eat soft food

which he squashes between
the tongue and the roof of his mouth.

There he is.

Hello, Vladimir.

That's to indicate
that someone is here.

With patience we can still get
something out of him by observing him.

He will never learn to talk,

but I'm sure he can learn
to interpret signs.

I noticed that sometimes
he presses his nails into my hand.

But he does that because he has
no other way to communicate.

It's not to hurt me.

Don't scratch me, little one.

Look, he gives me
the other hand.

That is a radio.

Give it to him, so he can hold it.

He holds it so carefully.

He likes it,
he feels something living.

Is it music?

He should try to hold it
against his ears.

Various sounds,
and how he reacts to them.

When you're looking after him...

Do you have to feed him,

or is there a way of showing him
how to use a spoon?

We have to show him everything.
We put it in his hand.

We have to put everything
in his hand.

And then he knows
what he is supposed to do with it?

And then he understands?

And when he goes to bed,
do you just lead him to his bed?

Yes, we have to...

Can he tell night from day?

That's difficult
for the deaf-blind.

They can't stick to a routine.

Does he know
if it's day or night?

When it's time to get up
and when it's time to go to bed?

No, but when it's time to sleep,
we take him to bed.

And he goes to sleep?

Yes, we have to put on his pyjamas,
and he'll go to bed.

He can't dress by himself?

No, he can't.

And can he eat by himself?

Oh! Look!

I've observed something.

- Can he eat by himself?
- No.

Can't he eat soup or things like that
with a spoon?

- No, he can't.
- You have to feed him?

Haven't you ever tried?

What does that mean?

We've tried two or three times.

I must talk.

I'm sure you can
get a lot out of him.

Be a good boy.

I think he's bored.

Hello.

Hello.
I don't know your name.

Mittermeier.

- I won't remember that.
- No?

Resi. Resi.

For five years,
Heinrich Fleischmann, 51,

has lived in a home for the aged
near Nördlingen, with his mother.

He was deaf by birth
and lost his sight at 35.

He was so much neglected
by his family

that he forgot
how to speak and write.

Rejected by human society,

he looked for the company
of animals.

He lived with the cows
in a stable for a long time.

He's looking for my hand.

Now he's laughing as well.

He was looking
for his mother's hand.

Now it's your turn.

He thinks it's my hand.

He knows my ring.

We want...

...to talk a bit.

Can he talk?

Can he talk?

Well, if he could see the lips,

he would be able to talk.

When he was able to see
I could talk to him as I can talk to you now.

But now he can't do that any more...

In the winter I led him to a window

I put his hand into the snow
and he said, "Snow!"

But I've lost contact.

Sometimes he says a word.

Every now and then.
But it's very rare.

Did he ask who we were
after our last visit?

No.

When my children come,
he doesn't recognise them.

He doesn't recognise his siblings?

No, he doesn't know
who they are.

I put their hands in his,

but they say,
"Oh, he doesn't know who I am."

He doesn't want
to see strangers.

I'm sure he's learned from experience.

I'm sure he has.

There is much I don't know.

Goodbye.

Did you say goodbye?

Yes, I said it.

Goodbye.

If there were another World War,

I wouldn't even notice it.