- We're closing in five minutes.
- They're going home,
the little piggies.
For them, it's just another day.
For me, today is not
just another day.
20 years old.
Look at old Granny
creeping along.
What was being 20 like for her?
Going dancing?
Dancing with a
stranger, head spinning,
forgetting that nothing's
spinning the right way.
Not the Earth.
Not where she lives.
Her father's a brute.
Better to spin and forget.
They've weakened
that man even more.
Where's his flabbiness
leading him?
Home from a comfortable
job saying "Yes" all day,
avoiding reading editorials,
never having an opinion except
when the boss wants
him to have one,
and then he has the right one.
What do you think he
would say about me
if he had to make a
report to the police?
"The man celebrated his
birthday on a bench, Sir.
The young man appears
to be an artist.
He applied for admission
into the academy.
Naturally, he was refused.
Naturally.
Well, the young man told
the director of the academy
that Greek values were
destroying the German soul."
"He's against the Greeks?"
"Yes, Herr Commandant."
"What does the director of
the academy have to say?"
"That there's no
room in the academy
for this sort of person."
April 20th, 1909.
- It's getting dark, Sir.
In an hour it'll be night.
- Yes.
- In
less than an hour.
It's time to go home, Sir.
- Wasn't today a lovely day?
- Very lovely, Sir.
And now it's almost night.
- Today was April 20th, 1909.
Don't you feel there was
something special
about that day?
- Typical spring day.
- My birthday.
- Ah, yes, I see.
A birthday is...
- Is?
- Not like any other day.
How old are you, then?
- 20.
Happy birthday, Mr., Mr...
- Adolf.
- Happy birthday, Mr. Adolf.
Ah, my 20th birthday.
The dreams I had
about the future.
You probably have a
lot of your own dreams.
- Yes.
You'll admit, Mr. Guardian,
this is a special bench.
The wood is probably
shipped from one country,
the paint from another, the
nails surely from a third.
Why, it's the bench
of the empire.
- I'm here to see the doctor.
I have an appointment.
- The young
man is here, Professor.
- Show him in.
Lydia?
Have we heard from Dr. Jung?
- No.
- Professor Freud.
Hugo Hausler.
Thank you for seeing
me so promptly.
- Please sit down.
Now, then.
- Now, then?
- Now then, what
brings you to me?
- I've read your
books, Professor.
"The Psychopathology
of Everyday Life."
It's rather amusing, really,
to think that we have
thoughts that think themselves
without asking our permission.
- That amused you?
- Oh, yes.
It's genuinely droll to think
that little bits and pieces,
slips of the tongue can
add up to something.
You must have been chuckling
when you wrote that.
- I enjoy a good laugh.
Are you a joker as well?
- On the one hand, I
find life very funny.
- On the other?
- The other?
- The other hand.
- On the other hand,
I'm like everybody else.
Everything's not always dandy.
Occasionally, I get oddly upset.
- You don't appear upset
when you mention it.
You might be upset by my cigar.
- Might, might not.
You know the word might...
Truth be told, Professor,
I have rather odd thoughts.
I don't like them.
They ram into me
like savage beasts.
- You distrust beasts?
- I distrust human beastliness.
There's something in
human nature which...
- What?
- Repels me.
- Human nature in general?
- No, I'm not a misanthrope
condemning everyone
else's deceitful nature.
No, it's only
exclusively about myself.
- What about you?
- Excuse me.
I've just realized I've
completely forgotten
to give you this
letter from Dr. Jung.
- From Jung?
- Yes.
I went to see him in Zurich.
We had a long talk.
- Why did you choose Jung?
- He's a friend of the family.
He thought it might
be interesting for me
to be psychoanalyzed by you,
adding that it might even
be interesting for you.
- For me?
- That's what he said.
I think he explains
it in his letter.
- Yes.
He explains your problem.
Listen, my dear friend,
I'm going to read his
letter to you out loud
so you can tell me if you
deem his findings correct.
"Most honored Professor,
I hope that the advice
I've given Mr. Hugo Hausler
strikes you despite its
paradoxical nature, as
reasonable.
Mr. Hausler is a
well-educated young man
whose high cultural
level confers on him
a certain detachment in
relationship to emotions
that do violently take
hold of his personality.
More specifically,
Mr. Hausler's powers of
reasoning, much to his credit,
wish to reject certain
personal phobias
in direct contradiction
with his personal ethics.
To get to the point,
Mr. Hausler feels an
incomprehensible revulsion,
though he's a
rational character,
he readily admits - towards
Jews."
"That said, Mr.
Hausler has at length
discussed with me
the horror he feels
on listening to
antisemitic diatribes.
The threats against
Jews made by Schnerer,
founder of the Pan-German
Party, and his followers
shock the humanist in him.
He is equally mortified by
what the followers of Schnerer
publish in their
magazine, 'Ostara.'
When Mr. Hausler came to see me,
stating that in his opinion
only an Aryan doctor
could understand
this problem enough
to help him resolve it,
I took the opposite tack.
I said that, 'Though it
might be more difficult,
it could be more beneficial to
hit the problem outright
by consulting a
Jewish psychoanalyst.'
Naturally, I thought of you,
if you'd accept the challenge.
With my most respected esteem.
Carl Jung."
- Yes.
Dr. Jung's findings are
more or less correct,
so do you agree to accept
me for an analysis?
- I accept.
- Will it be a tough one?
- No.
- No?
- It will be
exceptionally tough.
May I see them?
Please sit down.
Oh no,I meant
sit next to me so we
can look at them together.
This watercolor of The
Parliament is impressive.
- It's 20 crowns.
- Expensive.
- Yes.
- Perspective of the
building's very good.
Cut to a T.
- Everything's there?
- Not quite.
You see, there's
something missing here.
- Yes, I know.
- Why?
- It's the way it is.
- You don't like the
statue of Athena?
- You could say that.
- Let me guess the reason.
Because it is too
well-proportioned?
Huh?
You're influenced by modern art,
the breaking down
of human proportion.
Yes.
Yes, that is quite obvious here.
- Where? What is it?
- Well, the people in
front of the building,
their bodies are clearly
out of proportion.
That was what you intended.
- They're out of proportion?
- Yes. Look.
The head here is almost
the same size as the torso,
and the arms and legs are
almost the same length.
You do see?
- Yes.
- That's not the
effect you intended?
- I'm really only interested
in the proportions of buildings.
- Not human beings.
Is that why you missed
out the statue of Athena?
This is your signature?
- Yes.
- Can't make it out.
- Adolf.
- Adolf-
- Are you going to buy
the painting or not?
It's 20 crowns.
- You haven't
answered my question.
- You want to know why?
We don't need a
statue of a Greek lady
staring down her nose at
us in the Ringstrasse?
- Yes.
- Because I don't take
kindly to hypocrisy.
The politicians make me sick,
strutting around
casting their ballots
as if they were doing it
for the goddess of reason,
the rights of man.
They know damn well that in
ancient Athens sl*very was legal
while today their laws
pretend sl*very isn't legal.
- Pretend?
- Take a walk on the
Spittelberggasse.
It's unhappy women
selling themselves
like sl*ves to the capitalists,
losing their last
shreds of dignity
while the men are
losing their...
- Losing what?
- Semen.
- Meaning?
- Semen is a substance
belonging to the nation.
Are you unaware that our nation
has need of its children?
Would you like to buy
the painting or not?
- No.
- Move, please. Please move.
- Your problem,
Hugo, is idleness.
- I'm sorry, Hugo.
Your father means well,
but he is without culture.
- That's completely false.
- Your son is an artist.
- Artists have to
make sacrifices.
- I can make sacrifices.
- My dear boy,
I'm afraid your
mother made sure that
you never wanted for anything
and the result is, well.
My dear, I have to go out.
Hugo, walk me outside, will you?
- His paintings attract German
youth towards letting go.
- Okay, now I am completely
confused.
What type of letting go attracts
German youth to his paintings?
- You force me to say it, don't
you?
A sexual letting go.
- A sexual letting go of youth.
Sounds good to me.
- I've never seen the work of
this artist.
Will you show it to me?
Perhaps you can explain to me
what's wrong with it?
- Oh, it stinks in here.
It stinks of cigars.
I suppose it doesn't bother you,
curing your patients in smoke.
Obviously it doesn't.
You don't want me
to think of anything
other than your cigar smoke.
- Because your thoughts drift.
- Yes, I have thoughts.
- And they drift?
- If I let them.
I always think of how that
beast makes her suffer.
- That beast?
- That beast.
Yes.
He's always trotting
around her, sniffing her,
brushing himself against her.
- Do you remember when you
knew for the first time?
- The first
time I understood it?
- It?
- Yes.
The hell she lives in.
We were in the parlor.
I was maybe three years old.
She was seated on the
large sofa, reading.
I was behind her
on the rug,
playing with a little train,
very aware that I was safe
because she was there.
She was radiant.
The light at the end of the
day was illuminating her hair
and reaching me,
keeping me warm, comforting me.
We were both aware
that we were in
a very special place together
without having to speak.
Then he goes over to
the couch, the brute.
"Ida."
He says her name.
When he touches her, she
lets out a silent scream.
No sound, but I can hear it.
His fingers closed
over her like a - claws
from a bird of prey wrapping
around their victim,
an eagle with its talons
clutching a small bird,
a titmouse.
Could the titmouse get away?
Survive?
Her eyes told me, "Have no fear.
For your sake, I shall survive.
Watch what's happening.
Don't look away and
don't be afraid.
He can't touch me.
His eyes, his claws
only hold the cage,
inside of which I'm safe."
- Your father
reached for her soul
and she chose to give it to you.
- Yes.
- But actually,
what were his grubby
hands reaching for?
His wife's soul or her body?
- Impossible to speak
to your sort of person.
- And who's that?
- It's the goddess Athena
protecting Theseus.
That's a pretty picture
for today's youth.
If you crave victory, get
a woman to fight for you,
preferably a Greek one.
- My good sir,
I sense that the idea
of being protected
by the goddess of
reason puts you off.
- What?
- I said that the idea of being-
- When has a fight ever
been won by Lady Reason?
You don't actually
believe that the liberals
placed the statue of Athena
in front of their parliament
to serve the
interests of justice.
- In my opinion,
Athena as painted by Klimt
is not one to
please the liberals.
- How so?
- Look at how he's put the
head of Medusa on her armor.
- If I met Mr. Klimt, you
know what I would say to him?
You're a bloody double-dealer,
painting it so that
one half of the viewers
see Medusa's bestial
head winning over Reason,
the other half see
Reason dominating Medusa.
I daresay this Mr. Klimt doesn't
even know what he's up to.
- Interesting.
- Surprised I can think?
- No.
- Yes, yes, you are.
You acted surprised, why?
Because I, I look stupid?
- I think you've misunderstood.
I, I was thinking-
- You were thinking
that it's amazing
that someone that
looks as dumb as me
could say something
not so stupid.
- She's pretty.
- Let's go, Molly.
- Why?
- I'm tired of being
insulted by one of the elite.
- No, please wait.
I sense that you must
be an artist yourself.
Am I right?
Such a pleasure to
meet you, Adolf.
You've saved our
son by bringing him
back to art that
is about health,
not sickness.
I want to buy two paintings.
- One for me, too, Mommy.
- 20 crowns, each one.
- Oh, what a bargain.
- My dear sister,
I dreamed last night that
we were together again,
taking a walk like when
we both lived at home.
It was a happy dream
for me because,
oh, I have so much
I want to tell you.
I've simply got to
talk to you about
a new lodger brought here
a couple of weeks ago.
His name is Adolf.
He tells me things even you,
who are more educated than I am,
have never heard about.
At least, at least I
don't think you have.
He told me that I
have to learn to sing
because I look like
a singer he knows,
a true Valkyrie, blonde like me.
He's gone to see her
singing at the opera house.
I ought to let you know as well
that Adolf has forbidden
the other men at the shelter
from calling me "fat wh*re,"
and since then,
no one dares say it,
-Great artist.
-and no longer does anyone
come knocking at my door
because everyone thinks he's
the only one I
would open it for.
If Adolf does come knocking,
I will open it wide,
but he hasn't knocked as yet,
and this must be how a
true gentleman behaves.
He takes his time.
Your dear sister,
hugs and kisses, Molly.
- That district was a goldmine.
I sold three
paintings yesterday,
20 crowns a piece,
and I have a big commission
from a Hungarian
shopkeeper, Newman.
- With this money,
we can take a carriage to
the opera tonight by Wagner.
I wish Gustav Mahler
was still alive
and we could hear him conduct.
- But he was a Jew, too.
- More importantly, he was
a great conductor of Wagner.
- Did you know, my dear sister,
that in ancient times, our
ancestors lived in the woods?
Gods and goddesses
lived among them
and instilled in them
their own life force
without losing it themselves.
Everything was just fine
until one day missionaries
visited our ancestors
and told them that
the only god is Jesus
and He is born in
the desert of Judea,
not in any forest.
Our ancestors were
very gullible.
They trusted everybody,
and since the priests
were smooth talkers,
our worthy ancestors
believed that
the time for their
gods had passed
and that now it was Jesus' time,
So in the blink of an eye,
they lost their vital force,
because our Lord,
there's no use denying it,
is a, a weakling
with turnip blood
running through his veins.
Fortunately, among
our ancestors,
there were a few
people like Adolf
who could think for themselves.
You couldn't make fools of them.
They went right on
with the forest gods.
- I'm going out.
Do you need anything, Professor?
- Will you mail this
letter to my daughter Anna?
- Of course.
- Have we heard from Jung?
- Yes.
He agreed to the
meeting as you proposed.
- I almost didn't come back.
You're so vulgar.
- Like him?
- Yes, like him.
When you profane the poetic
with obscenity, I ask myself,
"What am I doing here?"
- Let's not be so evasive.
What obscene word did I use?
- The word "body."
It's so vulgar to
speak of the body of...
- Of your mama?
- It's not in that sense
that the word is obscene.
It's when you said...
- "The body of his wife."
- Yes.
When you said that.
- Is she not his wife?
- Yes, she's his wife, but...
- But her body isn't.
- Right.
Her body isn't.
- You said you remembered
him taking her into his arms.
What could be more unremarkable
than a man taking his
wife into his arms?
- You didn't listen
to what I said.
What I said was when he
took her into his arms,
the poor darling's
body was absent.
- That's what the look told you?
- Yes.
- Why do you call her
"the poor darling?"
- "The poor darling"
is my way of specifying
that she had no
choice in the matter.
She was forced.
- Why forced?
What stopped her from leaving?
- Well, in fact, she did leave
because her body
was totally absent.
That's why he can
never reach her soul.
Never.
Can you imagine what
a woman like her feels
when she finds herself
in the clutches
of an animal like him?
- Do you feel it?
- Obviously I feel it.
- Although you are not her,
are you?
- When he put his hands
on her, it was as if...
- You were her.
- Yes.
It was horrible.
His grubby, vulgar hands.
- Out to get hold of what?
- I already told you.
Her soul.
- You said he wanted to grab
a small bird, a titmouse.
- Titmouse, yes.
The cretin thought he could
do it by touching her body.
- He didn't realize her body
would be without warmth.
- What?
- The cretin assumed
her body would be warm.
- He was a cretin because
his grubby vulgar hands
wanted to acquire their opposite
in the same way they've
acquired everything:
by force, by money.
Look at that beast that
claims to be my father.
The only way he can
make himself presentable
is by stealing other
people's beauty.
Right from the very beginning,
he wanted to steal her beauty.
Well, he can just wait.
She's never given him anything.
- And yet here you are.
When those grubby hands held
her down, she didn't say no.
- You are shocking.
I said that, "in that
moment she cried out."
- You said, "she
cried out silently."
- Yes.
And in that silence
I heard her scream
and she knew I heard it.
- You still haven't
answered my question.
Why didn't she scream
out loud using her voice?
- That Freud,
so incredibly vulgar.
- Why do
you keep visiting him?
- There's a meeting
tonight at "Ostara,"
the publication that
prints everything
that Schnerer says as head
of the Pan-German Party.
- Georg Ritter von Schnerer,
the leader of the extremists?
- Interested
in joining me?
- I don't like being around
those irrational anti-Semites.
I thought you didn't
care for vulgarity.
- You should come.
They could use someone with
your Wagnerian talents.
- My dear Jung.
- Didn't get the time
of our meeting right?
- Not at all.
- I'm surprised you
like the Prater.
- My family used to
bring me here as a child.
I have fond memories.
Fortuneteller once
came to our table
and prophesied that I
would become famous.
Now that you've come
all the way from Zurich,
I expect you want to
hear about the analysis
I am conducting with Hugo.
- Regarding Hugo and his family,
there are certain
things I preferred not
to put into writing.
To begin with, Hugo's maternal
grandfather was Jewish.
Actually, Hugo doesn't know.
- How do you know?
- I'm a friend of the family.
I also know that
on his deathbed,
the grandfather was
racked with remorse
having converted from
Judaism to Catholicism,
and I believe that Hugo
is expiating the sins
of his grandfather.
- That is quite something.
Are you sure of this story?
- The grandfather
changed his name
to Brahman from Abramovich.
Here's something that I
thought would interest you.
If Hugo's fear of Jews
doesn't stem from himself
but his grandfather's
unconscious,
it raises the question,
"How can one know unconsciously
what went on in
preceding generations?
Can the unconscious
have access to something
that exists on its own
outside of one's own self?"
- I can see where
you're leading me, Carl.
- Where?
- To your idea of an unconscious
knowledge of something
that is outside of a
person's unconscious
that comes from somewhere else.
- You don't believe that Hugo
could have an
unconscious knowledge
of his grandfather's converting?
- Yes, yes, of course,
but in a direct way
given his incestuous
relationship with his mother.
I think he absorbs
every thought of hers
and is not even
aware he does it.
- You say there's this
incestuous relationship.
- You haven't noticed
the incredible merging
of identity between the two?
- You're joking, Professor.
- It is you who must
be joking, Carl.
When I talk of incest,
I mean infantile desire.
- But if that existed,
then wouldn't it have
been long forgotten?
- Yes.
- Well, if it's forgotten,
it's finished.
It no longer exists.
- If it is forgotten,
it is because it is being
preserved like in a museum.
Are you beginning to doubt
repression Carl?
Perhaps.
- Oh, it's not possible.
Let us talk as psychoanalysts.
What reasons do you have?
How could you doubt it?
- I find it difficult to
believe in incestuous desire.
- Oh, I know that Carl.
That is why you have completely
discarded my discovery
that there is a law, laid down
by the father
who forbids incest,
and he does so without ever
politely asking the child
if it is acceptable.
But dear Professor,
what you are describing is the
fear and trembling of Hebrews
receiving the Torah
on Mount Sinai.
- And what if that is true?
- Can't you see how
contradictory you are?
You wanted to rescue
psychoanalysis
from the dangers of
becoming a Jewish ghetto
so that it would
have universal values
and now here you are
dragging it back to the Jews.
- If what you say is true,
then I have failed all along.
- Not at all.
Why shouldn't you have
a Jewish unconscious?
- And you have Germanic roots
that structure
another unconscious,
a purely German unconscious?
- Exactly.
And there will be a
Jewish unconscious
determined by biblical law
and an Aryan unconscious
determined by German myth.
- No.
- Yes.
Why not?
- Yesterday in the
forest, he took my hand.
It was the first
time he did that.
He said that one day he hoped
to marry a girl like me.
I heard him say,
"Look, a rabbit."
And he asked me if I knew
why no one ever sees
a diseased rabbit.
I said, "No,"
and he explained that
it's because in nature,
there's no pity for
the weak and diseased.
In the world of rabbits,
there is no "Thou
shall not k*ll,"
but only the purity
of nature's law.
He said that I represented
all that a man like him
could hope for in a German girl,
absolutely everything.
Except one thing.
I asked him, "What?"
And he replied
that unfortunately,
as I was not a vegetarian,
any further intimacy between
us was out of the question.
As you can imagine,
I'm really in a bad way
because if I've understood
Adolf correctly,
he loves me,
but he isn't happy about
the ingredients in my blood.
Your loving sister, Molly.
- Adolf, stop hammering.
Let the professor finish, Adolf.
- But the lecture is over.
I need to work here.
- Just let professor
answer a few questions.
That's the way things are done.
- Excellent question.
- Excuse me, Professor,
but how do you
think you're going
to transmit your love
of an universal empire
to the Austrians?
- By way of laws, education,
religious institutions.
- Public opinion.
- Which laws?
Those cleverly voted in by
a Parliament of the elite
to stop the needy from
getting out of line,
tricking them into believing
in the righteousness
of such laws
which relegate
them to the slums.
- Exactly.
- Boo.
- Your being a
Marxist doesn't bother me,
but that's no reason
to denigrate our laws.
- They allowed the
neediest to attend schools,
to enlist in the army.
- Yes, yes,
it allows the neediest to
so look up to your culture,
to your material riches
that unconsciously they
become sl*ves of the system.
- I don't understand
you, Liebermann.
- What don't you understand?
- You said the needy
were unconscious.
- Yes, unconscious.
- So, tell me
something, Liebermann.
When we're at w*r and
some poor needy wretch
is proud of sacrificing
his life for the homeland,
isn't he conscious
of what he's doing?
- No.
No, he's not
conscious that the word
"Homeland" is an invention
of the capitalists
and that he's getting
himself k*lled
to protect their
international interest.
No, I am sorry.
He is not conscious.
- So, for you, nothing
is sacred, Liebermann.
- Sacred to us is the
poor b*stard's right
to dignity and justice.
I was under the
impression, Adolf,
that you were indignant
at the poverty
that you see around you.
- Adolf has summed
things up perfectly,
hasn't he, Professor?
Nothing is sacred
for you, is it?
I mean, how dare you
suggest, Professor,
that Wilhelm II is
not the true champion
of the sacred values of
the German republic, huh?
So, do you remember what
you told me about Schnerer
and the publication that
supports him, "Ostara"?
- I'm afraid I don't remember.
What, what did I say?
- You said you would never
go to a meeting with them
because you despise
their vulgarity.
- I, I said that?
I did.
- And I agree.
I despise it, too.
How can my Hugo
frequent such people?
It is very distressing to me
and so unlike Hugo deep down.
I believe this is part
of why he's so troubled.
The other part is he
visits that lunatic three times
a week.
- Sigmund Freud.
- I mean, how can he get
through this bad patch
when he's in the
hands of those two?
I have no influence
over him anymore.
You're the only one who
can get through to him.
You can help him get
a grip on himself.
When I think of Hugo and
Schnerer's supporters,
it is horrible because
he doesn't know.
- Doesn't know what?
- He doesn't know that my
father was a Jew, Adolf.
- His grandfather was Jewish?
- Converted to Catholicism,
changed his name to
Brahman from Abramovich.
- Abramovich to Brahman.
Why?
- Cowardice.
I can still hear his brothers
calling him "Traitor."
And today when Hugo calls
Jews traitors, it's...
- Traitor.
- At that time,
the power wielded
over the emperor
by the liberals was
quite terrifying.
- Yes, and religion
had fallen quite low.
- It was dreadful.
Oh, and that awful Schnerer
inciting the Germans
to abandon the church.
- Excuse me, Mother, but I
think we should be going.
- I just want to
ask one more thing.
How did Schnerer
lose his audience?
- How?
Thanks to Lueger, right, Father?
- Well, the Germans
ended up realizing
that Schnerer was
no Christian at all,
that he was a downright pagan.
- With Mayor Karl Lueger, things
were completely different.
- What did he say to
attract the masses?
- Had a kind of charm.
He would criticize the Jews
without ever really
doing them any harm,
and in that way, one couldn't
call it anti-Semitism.
He was so debonair.
- Damn it, we're
going to be late.
You asked so many questions.
- We're all brothers and
sisters?
It's the Jews who invented that.
- Why?
- Self-interest.
They're all traitors.
- What?
- The Jews are all traitors.
- Come watch.
Have either of
you seen the films
of the freres Lumiere?
- This is my friend Adolf
whom I told you about.
- You're a man of the
spectacle, aren't you, Adolf?
Molly was sharing with us
some of your thinking, Adolf.
Don't look at her that way.
You are among friends.
It would appear, Adolf,
you've had a lot of good
thinking on your own,
but you are still in the dark.
Your eyes haven't been opened.
- Earlier this evening,
a priest at Hugo's house said
something rather interesting
about the laws of Moses and
that of Marx being the same.
- Father Matthew, yes, his usual
dribble about biblical law.
You saw through it.
He tells the good people
that biblical law,
the Old Testament,
has had its day.
That's when he does
the card trick.
Having distracted
your attention,
he slips in his new law,
that of little Jesus.
- What do you call
the law of Jesus?
- The law of love,
my young friend.
On one hand,
he must have told you that
we no longer have anything
in common with the Jews,
and on the other, he
serves you up to Jesus,
conveniently
forgetting, of course,
that Jesus was the
jewiest of all Jews.
- Now, how's that?
- Well, his mother was
Jewish, for a start.
- The Virgin Mary was Jewish?
- A very good question, miss.
I as well think she
possibly wasn't.
Despite Christian propaganda,
she was most definitely
an Aryan born in India.
- He was the jewiest of Jews
because he took it upon
himself to announce,
as we all know, that his
father was the universal father
and that we all have
the same father.
You, me, Jews like Karl
Marx, we're all brothers.
Germans, Czechs,
Gypsies, Slavs as well.
- And that isn't true?
- Here you have
the living example
of an adorable young girl,
blonde as wheat,
but proving to what
an extent Germans
have been contaminated by
people like Father Matthew.
- What do you mean?
- Shh.
- Let her speak.
Why should she be quiet?
Ask your question, miss.
- Are you Protestants?
- No,
but I agree with Luther
when he denounces
corruption in the church.
- When our German ancestors
conquered the decadent
Roman Christian empire,
they were converted
to Catholicism
and forgot the force
that was in their blood.
- I have difficulty with this.
I don't understand how
since they were
the most forceful
they could forget their force.
- Look how in the 5th century AD
Clovis had himself baptized
so he could become
king of the Franks.
In selling himself
to the church,
he sold his pure German blood
and let it be diluted
into the sewer
of the universal
Christian brotherhood.
The ones that don't dilute
their blood are Jews.
Do you think that's an accident?
- It's to keep their force.
- The Jew is the key
to everything, Adolf.
You're silent, Hugo.
- Hugo, don't tell
us you've actually
been taken in by
Freud's writings.
- Are you not taken in?
- I'm not taken in by a man
who talks about a
universal unconscious
and in reality is peddling
the existence of a
Jewish unconscious.
- The movies
interest you, Adolf.
- Well, what
interests me is that
we're all seeing the same thing.
In a theater, the view from
each seat is different,
but watching a movie,
we're all seeing the same thing.
- Adolf, did you know that
the Virgin Mary was Jewish?
I saw how surprised you looked
when the professor told
you that Freud was a Jew
and Marx as well.
They must be pretty clever,
all those Jews, huh?
I thought you knew
everything.
- How does it make you
feel, dear Professor,
to have an anti-Semite on
your couch three days a week?
Wednesday to Friday,
a real bigot..
Not just one of the sheep who
went along with the mayor,
but someone who's in with the
most extreme anti-Semites.
How does that make you feel?
You don't answer.
Is that the rules of your game?
A little facile, no?
- Anything else?
- What do you
mean, anything else?
- Have you got
anything else to say?
- You don't give a damn
about what I have to say.
I'm saying I hate you
and you don't care?
- Just because you said it
doesn't mean I
have to believe it.
- I, I must say that's
not the answer I expected.
Next thing he'll
tell me he loves me.
- Of course I love you.
- The old b*stard's
in love with my money.
Doesn't give a about me.
- True.
I'm madly in love
with your money.
- What makes it terrible is
that perhaps you do love me
and that's why I hate you,
because you don't love
me for the usual reasons.
Usually people love
me for my brilliance.
I can hear Mommy saying,
"How can anyone resist my Hugo
when he tickles the ivories?
Look at him.
He's my Hugo, my son.
Look upon his
incomparable brilliance,"
and they look upon it
and they swallow it.
Morons.
Well, that's why I
hate you, Professor,
because you're not one of them.
- Tell me, my
incomparable friend.
How would you define a moron?
- Someone who doesn't realize
that the more believable I
am in my piano-playing role,
the more I lie.
- Someone, therefore,
you think you're fooling.
- Yes.
- According to that theory,
you have two types
of spectators:
morons whom you fool who
don't know who you are,
and the other.
- The big one, the big
unblinking eye who watches.
It can't be tricked.
Before I open my mouth
to say, "I am this,"
he's already replied, "No,
you're not, you liar."
The unblinking eye who watches,
he's the b*stard
who's ruined my life.
Not everyone has
to deal with this.
Adolf, for example, his
words are unquestionably his.
- Adolf?
- Yes, my
friend, the painter.
- You've never
said his name before.
- Yes, Adolf.
Oh God.
God, why can't I
be more like Adolf?
Like the men who lead Ostara?
They're not bothered by
the big eye telling them
that they've made a mistake
in being anything other
than what they are.
- What are they?
- They're not sitting around
waiting for what
they're not yet.
They're what's
always been in them,
a sacred substance.
The blood of their ancestors.
Is nothing sacred
for you, Dr. Freud?
- Yes, but not
dime-store sacred.
- What's
dime-store sacred?
- Idols.
- Is Aryan blood an idol?
- A very fashionable idol.
- Do you know, Professor,
why your God, the Father,
was incapable of
telling the Jews exactly
what He wanted out of them,
of giving them an
orderly set of rules
that if followed would have
allowed Him to leave them alone?
- Tell me.
- Oh.
I shall.
Because your wh*re of a God
the Father was an anti-Semite
who wanted to smear sh*t all
over the world He created.
- Go on.
- Came the day when He got sick
of treating his people badly.
He must have been ashamed
of Himself and thought,
"I'm going to change my tactics.
I'm going to forgive them
all and send them my son."
You must admit it was
easier with Jesus.
At least He didn't keep
pulling up stakes like Abraham.
What's more, to gain
His forgiveness,
all you had to do was love Him.
He didn't care what was
going on in your mind.
But there's just one hitch.
It's that none of it works.
- Why is that?
- Because I can't believe it.
When I hear Him crying
out on the cross,
"My father, why hast
thou forsaken me?"
how am I supposed to
stop feeling forsaken
when even He couldn't
figure it out?
- Look around Vienna.
What do you see?
- I see Adolf back
on that stage again.
Get him down.
- I have substituted a
paintbrush for my hammer.
Let's just listen to what
the professor has to say.
- Look around Vienna,
what do you see?
- On the one hand, men waltzing.
On the other, men sh**ting
off their mouths at cafes.
- Do you think it
was almost like that
with words divorced from dance?
No, gentleman.
Return to antiquity, gentlemen
to the Greek city-state
where music and words,
Dionysus and Apollo had not
as yet been split apart,
but came together
as Greek tragedy.
- What is this
bullshit, Professor?
You want us to believe that
thanks to a musical comedy,
there is no longer a
struggle between classes?
- I would've been
astonished, Liebermann,
if you hadn't trotted out
your usual red catechism.
Astonished, yes.
Liebermann,
if you and your friends were
capable of understanding
that certain men could go
beyond their own selfish needs,
the base demands
that you pamper up
with your so-called
class struggle.
- What a pity, dear Adolf,
that you feel compelled
to shriek every time
you open your mouth.
I mean, the shrill
voice of yours
does take away the pleasure
we might have had
in hearing you out,
and by way,
what do these letters
you painted over
the doors stand for?
TWCC,
TWCNC.
Or must we wait for
your great play?
- I don't answer
to socialist th*gs.
- It's a pity that Adolf can
only answer by an insult.
- Just a remark on the
subject of universal values.
Today's are Christian
ones, very different
from the pagan values
of the Greek city-state.
- Hanisch,
you see how he always
gets to the essentials?
Might I ask you a question,
Professor?
- I think he just adores
saying "Professor."
- On the day when we
witness the creation
of the all-inclusive
German Reich,
do you think, Professor,
that achievement
will have come from
our allegiance to
Christian values
or to pagan values
that are truly German?
- I can't believe
you're drinking?
- I received today the
rest of my inheritance.
- Hey, that's great.
- I also received a letter
from the draft board.
- That's not so great.
- The emperor wants me to
put on the uniform
of the Habsburgs.
I will leave Vienna.
I will serve under the flag
of Bavaria, a German flag.
I'm ready to become a man.
- Speaking of being a man,
I know where you can spend
a little of your inheritance
and I'll spend a little
of my family's money, too.
- Where?
- Come with me.
I'm being pulled away
on military maneuvers.
- Would you like to buy me a
drink?
- No.
I don't drink.
- You don't drink?
- Never.
- Because you're stingy?
- Yes.
- Olga, I want you to meet Mr.
Miser.
- Hi Mr. Miser.
- My name is Adolf.
- Why don't you buy a drink?
- I'm just waiting for a friend.
- What's her name?
-Hugo.
- Oh, it's not a girl
you're waiting for?
- No, it's not a girl
that-
- You prefer waiting for men?
- Hugo!
Hugo I'm leaving. Please let's,
let's go.
- Don't you like us?
- Yes I, I like you.
Very much.
- You see, Mr. Miser does like
women.
- My name is Adolf.
- Adolf, my girlfriend din't
introduce us.
I'm Olga.
When you said I was pretty, did
you mean it?
Or were you just saying that
because you're obviously a well-
brought-up lad?
- Yes I'm, I'm well-brought-up.
- Could what Greta said be true
then?
Adolf? You won't buy a pretty
girl a drink?
- Yes. Yes I'll..
I buy pretty girls drinks.
You're the prettiest.
- You're sweet Adolf. Do you
know that?
Want to give me a hug?
What did I say? You don't hug
girls?
- Sure I..
I hug girls.
Like this spot?
Have you been here before?
- Who's the proprietor?
- Abramovich.
- Abramovich?
Abramovich.
- I descended and found
myself in a rocky grotto.
On the floor covered
by thick dust
were two very old human skulls.
And then I woke up.
- Interesting dream.
And what was my interpretation.
- Regarding the two
skulls, you said,
"Whom do you wish to see dead?"
- And did you find an answer?
- I found one, yes.
You expected the names of those
for whom I had a death wish,
so I gave them to you.
I said, "The skulls made
me think of my
sister-in-law and my wife."
I knew without question
it was absolutely false,
but I felt obligated to say
what you wanted to hear.
- And what did I want to hear?
- Whatever corroborates
your dream theory
that the dream is,
the dream is
wishful fulfillment.
- And your wish was that
strong to please me?
- I didn't wish
to displease you.
I immediately fabricated the
dreamers so-called death wish
so that you would believe my
dream was worthy of Freud.
- And you invented all of this
because you were
afraid to displease me?
Is that right?
- The idea that you
might find yourself
mistaken in thinking me,
your legitimate
heir, was unbearable.
So, I shut down that morning.
- And if you had been braver,
if you had spoken
out that morning,
what would you have said, Carl?
- I would've said,
"Dear Professor,
I am sure there are dreams
that portray the existence
of unconscious desire,
but there exists as well
a realm of the unconscious
that is deeper than yours
that goes beyond your
thoughts, dear Professor,
and it has nothing
to do with the desire
created by the dreamer,
but rather something
the dreamer receives
that existed before he existed."
- So, your death heads
are a famous
preexistent something?
- Yes.
The very second you
implied that for you
the skulls were
nothing more than
my way of materializing
my own desire.
- And what was that, Gustav?
- That the skulls
were never dreamed
up by me at all.
- What were they, then?
Hmm?
A thing unto itself?
Oh, what you would call
today the archetype?
- Yes.
- Yes, well, we,
we have grown very far apart.
- Perhaps we've grown too close.
I'm the only one who's lived
with your anguish, Professor.
Have you forgotten the day
you fainted into my arms?
- No, I have not.
- That's something else
I've never spoken about.
The look you gave me when you
regained your consciousness
coming out of that spell,
at that moment,
I understood the endless
suffering of a man
who's burned up all his energy
denying the world beyond,
denying the existence
of the human soul.
I will never forget
the look on your face
from the depths of
despair looking to me
as if I were your father.
That day, face to face,
your eyes pinpointed for me the
very nature of your despair.
- I have a dream to tell you.
It was Medusa.
I should have fled, but
like an idiot, I didn't.
I waited for her gaze to meet
mine and turn me into stone,
but you rose from the chair
and calmly said, "No."
So, Medusa turned into Athena
and the danger was gone.
- Ah, I must be dreaming.
- That's not everything.
I, I think I have
the interpretation.
- Well, go ahead,
but Hugo, I really
would prefer if...
-Upon waking,
I immediately remembered the day
I spoke about Klimt's
Medusa with Adolf.
It had him foaming at the mouth.
He said that her look
reminded him of a prost*tute
he'd brushed against in
the Spittelberggasse.
It was a neighborhood
celebrity.,
a French woman they
call La Petite Souris.
- La Petite Souris,
The Little Mouse,
Petite Mouse, Titmouse.
There's your titmouse again.
- I know, I thought of that,
but wait till I finish.
On one or two occasions,
Adolf took tea with my mother.
One day, I realized he
was very nervous about it.
I couldn't understand why.
I had this idiotic
notion he'd imagined
she was making a play for him.
Let's admit it,
my mother can be very over
the top and carried away.
He'd mistakenly thought
she was being provocative.
Until yesterday, my dreams
seemed terribly clear to me.
It revolved around one
of Adolf's fantasies.
But then this morning,
I realized that the dreamer
wasn't Adolf at all,
that the dreamer was me.
The Medusa's look was
the same as my mother's
when she looked at me triumphant
after my piano concert.
And then I realized that I
had seen that look before.
It had been there all along,
right from the very beginning.
- The look she
gave you when your,
your father's hands
were upon her.
- Yes.
Since that day,
she looks at me so,
and I belong to her.
I become like a puppet who
plays the piano brilliantly
and my brilliance
rubs off on her,
so she becomes
correspondingly brilliant.
If I don't do that,
she becomes inert as
an inanimate puppet.
It's quite insane.
Until now, I thought that my
clowning was keeping her alive.
Truth is, it keeps
her like Medusa,
like a zombie whose only
contact with the living
comes from devouring them,
sucking their blood.
She's so famished,
she can't think.
She can't reason.
- Can she reason
like Athena reasons?
- Could Medusa become
like Athena, Goddess of Reason?
- Your
dream suggests it.
- My dream does.
But in reality, could I
have escaped her gaze?
- In reality,
could you have
said no to Medusa?
- Could I have said the
no that you pronounced,
because it was you
that pronounced it?
- What of it?
- It makes me dizzy
to think that this no
could change everything for her,
for me.
She'll have to find
somewhere else to look
or something to take
the place of gazing.
- She could reason.
- She could.
That would give me
some breathing room.
Ah.
I wouldn't have to
always play the clown.
It's incredible.
Your insignificant little
"no" is going to tear me apart
because of the idea I have
that it'll tear her apart.
The idea that if she suffers,
it's the end of the world.
- It's the end of a
world, not the world.
- A world,
a world that had everything in
it except two little letters,
dear little letters.
"Why didst thou forsake me?"
And where did you come
from in the first place?
Who are you?
- I thought you knew.
- You're the law?
- Yes, we are the law
that forbids incest.
- Do I loathe you
or do I love you?
- Both.
- At the same time?
- At the same time.
- I remember our
discussion about the law.
I thought I hated it and
hated those who love it.
- You hated it
because you loved it
and it had disappointed you.
It forsook you.
And now think clearly on
"My father, why hast
thou forsaken me?"
- Him? My father?
I hope you're not going to say
that that's the bloke who
occupies the slot of father.
- He couldn't say no to Medusa
or he didn't know how
so he forsook you.
He left you to her
and then you came to see me.
You want to leave
it there for today?
- Boys.
- Hugo, you're on time.
Thank you so much for
accepting my invitation.
- Why did you leave without
me last night, Adolf?
So, this is the set
for your new play?
- Yes.
Yes, it is.
But now that I'm leaving,
it won't be performed.
Hamlet called his
play "The Mouse Trap."
I call mine "The Rat Trap."
Would you like to see a a final
rehearsal of how it works?
Yes, please, please.
Sit.
Sit, sit, sit, sit.
Sit.
Places.
Go.
Good.
So, here stands the
custodian at this podium
and he's guarding
over these doors.
Now, over here,
you have to imagine
another door.
This is the entrance.
The first to arrive
is Mr. Klein.
- The factory owner?
Yes, I know him.
He's a friend of the family.
- Yes, he's first
because he's the boss.
Time is money.
- I received a summons.
- Your papers?
Wait there, Mr. Klein.
- What's it about?
- Wait there.
Not everybody's showed up yet.
- He stands and waits
because the new man is in charge
and he knows he must
obey the custodian.
The next to arrive
is Mr. Gruber.
Mr. Gruber.
- The labor organizer?
- Yes.
Mr. Gruber presents his papers.
He's told to stand and wait.
Then these two men who
never think of themselves
as having anything in common
begin to speak together.
- Mr. Klein, you've
been summoned as well?
What is it about?
- Well, I'm supposed
to have an interview
in office TWCNC.
- Me too.
What is this office, TWCNC?
- Soon you'll
be told everything.
- By whom?
By the new man?
- Yes.
By the new man.
- Have you seen him yet?
- No, but my sister has.
She heard him speak
yesterday at the meeting.
He's going to change everything.
- Dr.
Schulman arrives next.
- The psychoanalyst?
- Yes.
You hardly have enough
actors to play all the roles.
- That will change.
Father Kung enters next.
Dr. Schulman, Father Kung,
they present their papers.
They're told to stand and wait.
Then Mr. Klein begins
to grow impatient.
He's used to being in charge.
- Does the new man take an
interest in you as well, Father?
What time will we
be allowed to go in?
I have a board meeting at noon.
- The custodian
doesn't answer.
Then last but not least
enters Rabbi Flabovitz.
- Wait there.
I will let the new man
know that everybody's here.
- The rabbi is surprised
to see the father.
- I didn't expect
to see you here.
- The archbishop thinks
we should talk to him.
Given his youth and
lack of experience,
soon he'll need our
help to run the country.
He hopes that his
infectious enthusiasm
will change everything,
but he knows he's going to
need some enlightened guidance.
- I believe he
stated the contrary,
that the church had ceased
to enlighten his followers
a good thousand years ago.
- I know that's
what he said, but...
- Please finish your thought.
- Maybe he does get a
little carried away,
but he knows he's going
to need our cooperation.
- You really think he's
going to need both you
and socialists like Gruber?
- Our dear father is
simply dreaming out loud.
We at the labor union have no
illusions about this new man.
- What does he want?
Why did he summon
me at the same time
as the head of a red union
out to sabotage our factories?
I'll have a talk with
the new man, sure,
but not at the same
table as a communist.
I have nothing in
common with Mr. Gruber.
- You do.
- What?
- You serve the
interests of capitalism,
Gruber, those of Karl Marx.
- So?
- They're both
inventions of the Jews.
- I really must be at my
board meeting by noon.
Could you please ask?
- I'll ask if you can go in.
- You haven't figured it out?
- Figured what out?
- You serve capitalism.
Gruber serves Marx.
I serve Dr. Freud.
- So?
- They're all a bunch of Jews.
- All Jews?
And how do I fit in?
- Very well-phrased, Father.
- You serve the interests
of Jesus Christ.
If you ask me, a
proper Jew, that one.
- Well, get this
straight, kind sir.
I have no intention of changing.
- That's clear enough.
TWCNC.
- What?
What is that writing?
- TWCNC.
Those Who Can Not Change.
Scientifically,
those of you who belong to a
species that cannot change.
The new man brings with
him a new species, TWCC.
Those Who Can Change.
Enter.
- What's behind that door?
- Those Who Can Not Change.
- I have a meeting-
- Enter.
The only exit for
you is this one.
Naturally, your union buddies
are inside there with you.
- Can I phone my wife?
- She's inside there already.
Your children are
there too, Doctor.
The archbishop is also there.
- I didn't wait for
you last night, Hugo,
because I saw the net that
has been cast over Vienna.
It holds practically
everything in it.
The mesh is so finely
stitched, Hugo,
and you are unaware
of being caught in it.
There's one who is aware.
The Jew.
You are caught in
Freud's netting.
The poor union workers
are caught by Marx.
The poor Christians
are held in the net
by Jesus, Mary, Joseph.
You're all in it.
You don't know it.
I know it.
You don't see it.
I see it.
Where are you going, Hugo?
You can't leave, you-
you cannot leave.
You must go through the door
of those who cannot change.
You must.
- No.
- There is no no here.
Hugo, where are you going?
You must come back.
You must come back.
You must enter through the door.
- I will be back.
- When?
- I'll be back.
- But when?
First, tell me what
you've understood.
- I can't...
I can't explain it to you.
- You think I
understand nothing,
but at least I understand that
those people at
"Ostara" are monsters.
- They are wrong
about some things.
- Is that what
you've understood?
- One thing,
Schnerer should
never become a deputy.
That only locked him
into their party.
He ought to behaved
like Karl Lueger.
- I'm glad you've
understood that much.
- What they needed
was a third person,
someone like Lueger
who would've known
how to talk to Christians,
and at the same
time, like Schnerer,
up to the task of
destroying their God
without making it obvious.
- Destroying God?
- Yes.
Yes.
I told you you
wouldn't understand.
- That that's
what you've understood?
- Look at this old lady.
I wonder what,
what being our age
was like for her.
She was probably dancing with
a stranger, head spinning,
forgets that nothing is spinning
the right way where she is,
not where she lives,
not the Earth.
Well, her father's a brute.
Better to spin and forget,
forget it.
The beautiful blue Danube.
- If I write my daughter Anna,
can you post the letter today?
- Of course, Professor.
- Dear Molly,
by the time you get this letter,
I'll be in Munich,
as you might have guessed.
You're the only one I've
confided my thoughts to.
You're the only
one who knows how
I've pined for a return
to our German homeland.
My decision was sped up
by the Emperor's Draft
Board out to get me.
Obviously,
there's no question of my
putting on a Habsburg uniform.
The day w*r breaks out,
and this day of
reckoning will come,
I shall address a request
to King Louis III of Bavaria
asking to serve under his flag.
- May 1913.
Dear Anna,
my book "Totem and
Taboo" comes out today,
unequivocally recording
the absolute break
between psychoanalysis
and the Aryan universe
to which Jung is now headed.
When I stop and think
of the relative size
of this little civil
w*r that has broken out
between the Swiss and
the Viennese factions
of psychoanalysis
compared to the horror
threatening to sweep us
all away like a giant wave
in a w*r more horrible
than any before,
still, it can't stop
me from personally
feeling this moment
as catastrophic.
- You alone
are the one I write to
as there's no one else to
whom I care to say goodbye.
I thought I had
friends in Vienna.
I didn't see they were
mere Viennese puppets.
- You were right, Anna.
You were right.
I can never thank you
enough for having shown me
that by inventing
psychoanalysis,
I invented something more
important than myself,
going beyond my
characteristic pessimism,
that there is something
dwelling in man in which,
despite everything, one
can put one's faith.
- You can't
even get angry with them
as they don't know that
like all decadents,
they're doomed to disappear,
and very shortly, I believe.
They make me think of
the Neanderthal man
who didn't know
he was so decadent
he was about to disappear
in order to leave room
for the h*m* sapiens.
Who is the new man
about to surge forth
and rid us of today's poor
excuse for h*m* sapiens?
There's a terrifying
answer to that,
one personally put
into my head by Destiny
when she brought me
to Vienna in order
to make me suffer
alongside the wretched
and abject of its population.
Why did she wish it so?
I haven't quite figured it out,
but sensing the will of Destiny
has me trembling.
If someday I write my memoirs,
I'll say that I arrived in
Vienna not yet full-grown,
still something of a child,
and leave it today as
a man,
serene, somber,
and guided by a definitive
vision of the world.
I'm not going to
say goodbye, Molly,
but till we meet again,
as something tells
me we shall meet.
Yes, something says I'm
coming back to Vienna.
Until we meet again,
Adolf Hitler.
- Papers, please.
Hitler, Adolf.
- Yes.
- Strangely,
I've just had proof that there
is something in man
that we can trust.
I've had this proof through
the analysis of a young man,
formerly a follow of Schnerer
and present at meetings
held by "Ostara."
He taught me that human
beings, despite everything,
possessed the power to return
to the point of departure
right before the moment
of no turning back
and choose another way.
Your father loves you,
Sigmund Freud.
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V13 (2025)
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Biographies Movie Collection