Original subtitles

- So? Are you going to win again this year? - What do you think?

- No one makes a better doughnut than bakery Mulder. - What's your secret?

You'd like to know that, wouldn't you?

Haha. But that's going to the grave with me.

Hee, hee, hee, hee!

What do I always say?

The fat stays in the fryer. And not on the doughnut, Karel.

- Yes? - Yeah, yeah.

- Powdered sugar? - Delicious.

Look here, young lady.

- And? Did I lie? - No.

Nothing beats a doughnut from Mulder.

Dad...

Dad!

Dad! Help!

Dad!

Well, where is it now...

Excuse me. But it should be here.

Just a moment.

Menno?

Where did you leave my little book?

- Which book? - My agenda!

For the funerals.

Oh... This is the 21st century, dad. We have computers.

I have linked all the systems together.

So if you fill something in here...

it will also automatically...

- in the administration. - Oh yes.

- Should I then... - No, no, no. That will work out.

- You just go back to your own work. - Okay.

Uh, good. Karel.

When did you want to hold the farewell?

- Saturday. - Saturday.

Huh? What's this again?

Okay, uh... Saturday.

Bakery Mulder.

For 15 years the best doughnuts in the Netherlands.

Oh, are you coming to help with the catering?

I've done that for years, but I need help myself now.

Oh... Are you...

Choked.

In my own doughnut.

That's not how I pictured it.

Listen...

In three days is the doughnut contest.

We have to win that.

The whole company... Everything depends on the success of the doughnut.

- Aren't doughnuts more of a winter thing? - No, silly.

A good doughnut is always tasty.

Summer, winter. In the summer, the prizes are awarded...

so we can hang them on the facade in winter.

- That's my son, Karel. - Hey, fat bus.

- Fat doughnut too. - Fat doughnut.

Don't let my father hear it.

But... can't he join in?

He's a baker too... It seems.

I just don't know if Karel has it in him.

- Sure he does. It can't be that hard, can it? - Pardon?

It's an art!

Who are you talking to?

Uh... Um...

Friday? Yes, Jurriaan, I can't just leave here.

It's a family curse.

Weirdos.

Here in the village?

Uh... yes... Yes, I think I can arrange something.

Sorry, Hein. I know, we're on vacation.

But this is big. I need to present our glasses to investors.

And if they bite!

So uh... In the coming days, you have to take care of yourself.

It'll be fine, dad. I'll manage.

Let me guess.

You're going to delve into the world of the doughnut.

Here you go.

Your apple fritters must be very tasty too, Karel. Good luck, boy.

Thank you.

- Hey. - You again.

What do you want?

I want you to bake doughnuts.

They will never be as good as my father's.

I have apple fritters.

It's not for me. You need to enter that contest.

You've won for 15 years in a row.

That can't just stop, can it?

I don't want to ruin my father's good name.

If you don't participate, your father's name will be forgotten.

He would find that even worse.

How do you know that?

Y-you can easily tell by the photo.

That's a proud man, right?

If you don't participate, you can't lose... but also never win.

Huh?

Yes, but how... how then?

What nonsense is this again?

Oh.

Yes, it saves a ton of time.

Nonsense.

- Was it too slow? - Huh?

Well, you could say that.

Just pen and paper, that's much faster.

Can I help you with something?

Oh, I'm looking for Hein.

Then you should try at Mulder's pastry stand.

Okay.

Look! They already look pretty good.

I told you that you could do it too!

- Hey, oliebollen. - Hey... cream puff.

Wow, good comeback.

- Is that your girlfriend? - A... girlfriend.

That's fine.

You are my test panel.

The fat stays in the fryer...

and not on the ball.

A good ball is not too fatty...

but also not too dry.

With the right amount of currants and...

the right amount of sugar.

The moment of truth.

How do they taste?

Um...

- Delicious. - Yeah??

- On a scale of 1 to 10? - 11!

Wow. I wish my dad could see this. He would be so proud.

Not edible, right? Just say it honestly.

An oliebollen competition?

In the middle of summer?

Do you perhaps have a back room for rent?

The whole community center full of oliebollen?

Well... Do you know another location nearby?

I understand that. But there must be some room somewhere.

Just a few chairs and a microphone.

Seriously. It was like someone threw up an oliebollen...

- and refried it. - Really so disgusting!

I hope I can forget this taste one day.

Is there...

We have to win that competition.

Otherwise, my legacy is doomed.

How?

Okay, I'll leave you alone for a moment. Okay?

- Sorry. - I'll see you later.

Okay.

Listen. I have an idea.

It won't be easy, but we will make it work.

Hey. Where are you from?

- Nothing. - You were with Hein again.

What do you see in that guy?

Milk, butter, flour...

I swear to you, that guy is crazy.

Sugar. Candied peel.

Email. Ha!

What nonsense.

Grandpa... Do we have a deep fryer?

- Yes. - And do we have...

Flour, salt, raisins, yeast, currants, apples, eggs...

- milk and butter? - Haha.

Look...

A good balanced ball turns itself over.

If it doesn’t, you know that the proportions are wrong.

So a ball that doesn't flip itself, you can throw away.

No, you fool!

A ball needs its space.

Otherwise, it will bump.

Or worse... stick together.

That left one is ready.

Do you see that? That left one.

Look, that left one is ready, I told you.

A fork!? Seriously!?

You didn't come out of an egg, did you? Or did you?

I'm going crazy because of that guy.

What is that, man?

Are you leaving me with this child?

Yes, sorry. I'm um... on sick leave.

I need to take it easy.

- Aren't those two behind already done? - Then I’ll say it.

Oliebollen. In the summer.

Do you want one?

No!! Hands off.

Grease splatter.

There you go.

Ready for the big oliebollen competition?

We want to see how that goes, a oliebollen test.

My God, Menno, couldn't you choose a livelier location?

Don't worry, Jur, it will be a success.

- I've prepared everything well. - The cremation or the presentation?

The favorite to win.

- My condolences for your old man. - Thank you.

Good luck, Mulder. But you don’t need that.

Pff...

- Nervous? - Um... yeah...

- Healthy tension. - Maybe you should go to the restroom first.

- Before we start. - Yeah? You think?

- Now is still possible. - Okay, yeah.

Good idea.

- Watch my balls for a moment, okay? - Yeah.

Ah, there. Yeah, that’s a relief.

- Johannes? - Hm?

I think you should come take a look.

- Hey. - Hi.

What am I supposed to do with two crates?

How should I know how many yolks you have here?

- If I need two, I'll just order them, right? - Sir...

you ordered two crates.

One online and one by mail.

And these were delivered this morning.

- Menno. - Dad! What are you doing here?

- I’m in the middle of a presentation! - Me? What are ♪ you♪ doing here?

This is still my graveyard.

What are you meddling in?

Maybe they believe that modern nonsense.

But I’m completely done with it!

Okay, fine, Dad. Can we talk about this later?

Good afternoon.

Um...

There go my balls.

My balls.

Look, that's what we baked for.

Do you see those faces?

That’s how people look when they can’t believe their senses because they’re experiencing perfection.

Pure pleasure.

You shouldn’t jinx it.

Can you all come forward for a moment?

Ahem, esteemed guests.

Press, enthusiasts, but above all pastry chefs.

The jury has made its decision and is unanimous in its judgment.

The winner of the oil ball contest...

who takes home this beautiful trophy is...

Bakery Stokman!

Yaaaay!

- We got it! - We got it!

The balls were lacking... life, a soul.

Damn!

Yay! Oil balls of the year!

Unforgettable presentation, partner.

Thank your father for his contribution.

Fantastic, really.

Too bad. Better luck next year.

Better luck next year?

Better luck next year!?

This is all your fault!

Nothing for yourself. I had to spell it all out for you.

With a baker's assistant like that, no one can bake a decent ball!

No!

It's your fault!

We did exactly what you said.

- But you were angry, grumpy, and dissatisfied. - That...

You don’t trust anyone. Are you afraid of failing?

Or are you afraid someone will take your place?

Um... Hein...

That’s why there’s no soul in your balls.

Not because you’re dead, but because they taste of fear.

They’re fearful balls.

Dewi, come.

So, what was so important that you had to interrupt my presentation?

I've been doing this my way for 50 years.

- But you immediately think you know better. - Know better?

You asked if I could help you.

Not in this way with your computers and your expensive talk.

Excuse me for trying to drag you into the 21st century!

- I’m stopping right away! - Please do, yes!

That modern nonsense costs us a fortune.

You can't be serious...

- A fortune? - Yes! - Well, if you throw the computers in the junk.

Stubborn!

Finally in puberty, Menno?

Goodness, goodness, goodness. Here, hold this for a moment.

Incredible!

Wow, how happy he is with my help.

He really struggles with his health.

This company is...

Hey, no bad words about Lommerrust, okay?

No, yes, you do really beautiful and important work.

But as a business...

it is written off to die.

Nice.

Hello?

Enjoy your meal.

Hein, do you have a moment?

Go ahead.

Do you like apple turnovers?

Yes?

Here. To thank you for your help today.

It’s a liquidation sale.

I’m quitting.

Huh? But why?

Just because you didn't win that stupid contest?

I. I didn't win that contest.

Tomorrow I bury my father.

And the whole bakery.

I can't, I don't want to.

It was something of his, not mine.

But... why did you become a pastry chef then?

I honestly don't know anymore.

It must have been fun, right?

When I think about oil balls, I think of celebration...

staying up late, coziness.

And I think of stress... waking up early and fighting.

I'm not doing it anymore.

Do you have no beautiful baking memories at all?

Well...

In the past...

I used to bake with my mother.

Just for fun.

On Sundays. When it rained.

And what did you bake?

Dear attendees.

Friends, family, but also fellow bakers...

Today we say goodbye to Ferdinand Mulder.

A pastry chef at heart and soul.

With his greatest specialty...

the oil ball.

Are you really going to ruin the atmosphere at your own funeral?

My legacy has already been spoiled.

...but of course, especially for his family.

Therefore, I would now like to give the floor to his only son... Karel.

I really just want to say sorry.

I'm sorry, Dad...

I'm sorry...

that we lost the oil ball competition for the first time in 15 years.

With your balls, we would have definitely won.

- He should know. - And I'm sorry...

that I can't give bakery Mulder the future you wanted.

But you wanted it your way.

And I can't do that, Dad.

So today we not only say goodbye to you...

but also to bakery Mulder.

May you both rest in peace.

Then I've done that too. Goodbye, Dad.

At least you don't have to worry anymore about someone taking your place.

Look.

He must have been a terrible man to work with.

You can say that again.

- Where did this cake come from? - Who do you think?

Hmm!

Who baked this cake?

It's fantastic! I want the recipe!

I'll grab a pen, just wait a moment.

Can't he become our new supplier?

Wow, Dad, you scared me.

You should just teach me a bit about it.

Teach you? Teach you what?

In that 21st-century nonsense of yours.

A computer course or something.

Maybe it should all be a little bit more, uh...

A little more...?

A little more like you want it.

Thank you, Hein.

Actually, you're not even a bad baker’s assistant.

And you're not such a bad father.

Oh... can you say the recipe for those oil balls one more time?

Too late.

Okay, nutcase. You’re going to tell me who you were talking about now.

- I was on the phone. - Don't lie.

You think I'm crazy.

Believe me, I think that too now.

I see ghosts.

There’s only one person I really want at my funeral.

- That woman has been dead for years for me. - Joyce. You have to feel that.

Dewi, no, we can't do that.

Come on.

- You say something. - We don’t call up ghosts here, Hein.

Agreed?

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