TEMPORARY DETENTION CENTER MINISTRY FOR STATE SECURITY
Stand still. Eyes to the floor.
Walk on.
TEMPORARY DETENTION CENTER MINISTRY FOR STATE SECURITY
Address him as 'Captain!'
Enter.
Sit down.
Hands under your thighs, palms down.
What do you have to tell us?
I've done nothing.
I know nothing.
You've done nothing, know nothing...
You think we imprison people on a whim?
No...
If you think our humanistic system capable of such a thing,
that alone would justify your arrest.
We'd like to jog your memory, prisoner no. 227.
On September 28th, Dieter Pirmasens,
your friend and neighbor, fled to the West.
We believe that he had help.
I know nothing.
He didn't even tell me he wanted to leave.
I first heard about it at work.
Please recount what you did on September 28th.
- It's in my statement. - Tell me again.
I was at Treptow Park memorial with my children.
Where I met my old friend Max Kirchner.
We went to his place and listened to music until late.
He has a telephone, you can call him to confirm this.
I can give you the number.
The enemies of our state are arrogant.
Remember that.
It takes patience. About 40 hours worth. (STASI COLLEGE, POTSDAM-EICHE)
Fast forward...
I want to sleep.
Please, let me sleep!
Hands under your thighs.
Tell me again what you did on September 28th.
Please, just one hour, just a little... a little sleep.
Tell me again what you did on that day.
Why keep him awake for so long?
It's... inhuman.
An innocent prisoner will become more angry by the hour,
due to the injustice suffered.
He will shout and rage.
A guilty prisoner becomes more calm and quiet...
Or he cries.
He knows he's there for a reason.
The best way to establish guilt or innocence
is non-stop interrogation.
...school friend Max Kirchner.
We went to his place...
and listened to music until late.
He has a telephone, you can call him to confirm this.
Do you notice anything about his statement?
It's the same as at the beginning.
Exactly the same. Word for word.
People who tell the truth can re-formulate things,
and they do.
A liar has prepared sentences, which he falls back on
when under pressure.
227 is lying.
We have two important indicators, and can increase the intensity.
If you don't give names,
We'll have to arrest your wife.
Jan and Nadja will be put into state care.
Is that what you want?
Who was the person who helped him flee?
- Glaske... - Again! Speak clearly!
Glaske... Werner Glaske.
Werner... Glaske.
Quiet!
Listen!
Does anyone know what that is?
It's the odor sample for the dogs.
It must be collected at every interrogation. Never forget it!
Your subjects are enemies of Socialism.
Never forget that! Goodbye.
That was good, really good.
You remember
how we sat there 20 years ago?
They've offered me a professorship.
Life's not about good grades, though mine weren't that bad, thanks to you.
So what's up?
Why do you always think I'm scheming?
- I wanted to invite you to the theater. - The theater?
I heard that Minister Hempf is going.
As head of the Culture Department, I should show my face.
It starts at 7 p.m. We should get going.
THE LIVES OF OTHERS
Minister Hempf at one o'clock.
He used to be in State Security, you know.
He really cleaned up the theater scene.
Georg Dreyman, the writer.
An arrogant type, the kind I warn my students about.
But he's loyal.
If they were all like him, I'd be out of a job.
He's our only non-subversive writer who is also read in the West.
He thinks the GDR is the greatest country on earth.
It starts.
What's wrong, my child? A new vision?
Speak, Marta! Speak!
Your Arthur...
is dead.
Arthur? Can't you be wrong, just this once?
No, sister. Believe me.
He fell to his death.
Crushed by the mighty wheel.
I see it,
though I'd rather see any other horror.
Why am I not spared these visions?
Elena! Go home... and mourn. I'll finish your shift.
Did you like it? Dreyman's good, eh?
I'd have him monitored.
Monitored? All that teaching is ruining your instincts.
I could oversee it myself.
He's clean, I tell you. Even Hempf likes him.
We'd be shooting ourselves in the foot.
I'm going down.
"Faces of Love"
I hear a lot about your work.
They say culture's in good hands.
Your name is mentioned in Party circles.
We're the Party's 'shield and sword'.
I'm aware of that at all times.
What do you make of him?
Of Georg Dreyman?
Maybe...
Maybe what?
Maybe he's not as clean as he seems.
Grubitz! That's why you and I are on top.
Your average Stasi chump would have said,
"One of our best! So loyal!" etc.
But we can see more.
You're heading to the very top, Grubitz.
There's something fishy about him.
I can feel it in my gut.
Dreyman's having a party next week.
Some dubious types are going, Hauser and that rabble.
Try to wire the place discreetly by then.
Measures A and B.
Only in his rooms. Nothing conspicuous.
He has powerful friends.
No one is to know about this
until we've found something.
But if you get something on him,
you'll have a good friend in the Central Committee.
You understand what I'm saying?
Have a nice evening, Comrade Minister.
Why is he staring at us?
What's he doing here, anyway?
I think he's got a crush on you.
I can't let the evening pass without raising a toast to our artists.
A great Socialist, I can't recall who it was, once said:
Writers are engineers of the soul.
So Georg Dreyman is
one of our country's greatest engineers.
- What charming bed-fellows you have. - Paul!
And to Christa-Maria Sieland,
the loveliest pearl of the GDR.
I believe that nobody contradict my opinion.
Let's raise our glasses
to Christa-Maria Sieland: Three cheers to her.
Someone like him doesn't even deserve to address you.
Stay with me!
And now something for the soul...
May I?
- How did you like my speech? - Many thanks.
I liked your play too.
Really, it was good.
"Engineers of the soul." That was a Stalin quote.
Really?
I, too, like to provoke, Mr. Hauser.
But unlike you, I know how far I can go.
I'm more like our dear Dreyman.
He knows that the Party needs artists,
but that artists need the Party even more.
If you're going to talk politics, I'll find another dance partner.
- I'm willing. - Too late!
I follow our theater with interest.
It used to be theater people...
- Paul! - It's okay,
I've known Mr. Hauser for years.
Comrade Schwalber!
You did a good job tonight too.
Dreyman, I'm glad you're working with such directors.
It wasn't always so.
You're referring to Jerska?
I think you judged him too harshly.
Sure, he went too far in what he said. Without a doubt.
But
put yourself in his shoes for a moment. You, as a man of honor.
He can't remove his name from that statement.
He could work for any theater in the West.
But he wants to stay here.
Because he believes in Socialism and in this country.
- His black-listing is... - Black-listing?
We don't do that here! You should choose your words more carefully.
Comrade Hempf, just between us:
My plays are not strong enough
to survive Schwalber's direction.
I need Jerska,
and I think you judged him too harshly.
Well, I don't.
But that's what we all love about your plays.
Your love for mankind...
your belief that people can change.
Dreyman,
no matter how often you say it in your plays,
people do not change!
How is he, by the way?
He hopes that his black- ...
that he can work again soon.
Is he right in hoping?
Of course he is. As long as he lives, and even longer.
Because as you know, Dreyman, hope always dies last.
The team will be ready to wire the place as of tomorrow.
It needs to be finished by Thursday.
You should plan everything carefully.
Think you can do it?
Good night.
I'll get in trouble if I don't go.
- With who? - My girlfriend.
Twenty minutes.
Yes?
Frau Meineke... One word of this to anyone,
and Masha loses her spot at the university.
Is that understood?
Yes.
Send Mrs. Meineke a gift for her cooperation.
It must be Thursday again.
Time passes so quickly... Perhaps that's a good thing.
- How are you? - Not bad.
It's not always this noisy.
Only on Thursdays, I know.
Yes.
We missed you at the premiere.
Did Schwalber do a good job?
His good bits were stolen from you.
That keeps my ideas alive.
Don't bear it.
I can't bear those fat, dressed-up people
at premieres anymore.
Doesn't sound like me, does it?
But maybe this is the real me,
not the old Jerska.
He was friendly and caring, nourished by success...
all thanks to the grace of the bigwigs.
But I won't complain much longer.
In my next life, I'll simply be an author.
A happy author who can write whenever he wants.
Like you.
What is a director if he can't direct?
He's a projectionist without a film,
a miller without corn. He is nothing.
Nothing at all.
Albert, the Minister was at the premiere. Minister Hempf.
I spoke to him about your blacklisting.
It looks promising.
He gave me hope, concrete hope. Literally.
Really?
That's great.
Cheap Georgian wine. Chateau Jerska.
So is our holy drinker coming?
I forgot to ask him.
You're strong and forceful. That's how I need you.
Don't let this blackness into your life.
- Albert is my friend. - And you're my boyfriend.
Looks like a 50th.
But I'm going to be 40, right?
Don't forget, you promised to wear a tie for your birthday.
I would, but I don't have one.
Bon anniversaire!
Atie?
You said you didn't want any books.
Or can't you tie a tie,
you old working-class poet?
What?
I was born wearing a tie!
I had to "fight my way out
of my middle-class fetters".
Then put those fetters on again, just for me.
Alright... It's no
big deal to tie a tie.
Frau Meineke, would you come in for a moment!
Can you tie a tie?
You've no idea how thankful I am.
- Are you feeling unwell? - No... I'm feeling fine.
Finished?
Wonderful. It's perfect. It couldn't be better.
It'll be our secret. You can keep a secret, right?
Of course.
I'll be damned! And I thought you couldn't do it.
You don't normally hide your talents.
You've no idea of the things I can do!
The first guest.
Our dear neighbors locked the main door again.
- Can you go? - Yes, I'm going.
Maestro! Our humble offerings.
- I expressly said no books! - But thanks.
Would you like a drink?
- A soda. - Vodka for me.
I'll get it.
Why the hell's Albert sitting all alone?
He won't talk to us. He sent us all away.
I brought you something too.
- Did you really come here to read? - It is Brecht!
I feel like a fraud among these people.
A fraud?
Come off it, Albert! You're losing your grip on reality.
You know how we admire you,
how everybody admires you.
For something I did 10 years ago...
and could probably never do again.
My favorite director! Wait!
I need to talk to you a moment.
Tell me again how you got into this position.
Pure talent.
Of course!
But what else did you have to do?
Everyone knows you're with the Stasi!
- What an outrageous insinuation! - Don't forget it!
- Paul! - What?
Excuse my friend, he's had too much to drink.
But you know he's with the Stasi!
No, Paul. I don't know that.
You're such an idealist that you're almost a bigwig.
It was informers and conformists like that who ruined Albert.
Spy, betrayer!
If you don't take a stand, you're not human!
If you ever want to take action, call.
If not, we don't have to meet again.
Your friends don't have much taste.
That's really unfair.
Here! Look at this beautiful backscratcher.
That's a salad fork!
Still, it's beautiful... And look at this.
I'll write my new play with this.
You have no taste either!
I do in some things.
- It's from Jerska. - So he did give you a book!
"Sonata for a Good Man"
"'Lazlo' and CMS unwrap presents,
then presumably have intercourse."
You're late.
Sorry, Captain.
Those red lights made me lose all of four minutes.
You know how it is.
They're already at it! Unbelievable! These artists!
They're always at it!
That's why I prefer monitoring artists to priests or peace activists.
See you tomorrow at 11 a.m.
Albert Jerska, operation 'Engerling'. Systematic as usual, Wiesler.
The files will be sent. Let's have lunch.
The BSG Volleyball team will meet at 7 p.m.
Did you forget? Bosses sit over there.
Socialism must start somewhere.
About the license plate of the car
that brought Ms. Sieland home...
It's Minister Hempf's car.
Wiesler,
we can't monitor top officials. I removed the entry in your report.
Nothing written from now on,
just oral!
So we're helping a Committee member get a rival out of the way.
You know what this could mean
for my career. And for yours.
If we find something...
Is that why we joined?
You remember the oath we took?
"We are the Party's shield and sword."
What is the Party, if not its members?
And if those members are highly influential, all the better!
I've got a new one.
Honecker comes into his office,
opens the window, sees the sun, and says...
What's wrong?
Oh, excuse me... I just...
No, carry on, colleague!
No harm in laughing about the Party Chairman, is there.
I probably know the joke anyway.
Come on, tell us!
Well... Honecker...
I mean, the Comrade General Secretary sees the sun and says,
- "Good morning, dear sun!" - More like, "Good morning, dear sun!"
The sun replies, "Good morning, dear Erich!"
And at noon, Erich goes to the window and says,
"Good day, dear sun!"
The sun replies, "Good day, dear Erich!"
In the evening, Erich says again,
"Good evening, dear sun!"
and the sun doesn't reply.
"Good evening, dear sun..."
"What's wrong?" he asks.
And the sun replies,
"Screw you, I'm in the West now!"
Name?
Rank? Department?
Me?
Stigler.
2nd Lieutenant Axel Stigler. Dept. M.
I don't have to tell you
what this means for your career.
Please, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, I was just...
You were just deriding the Party! That's incitement,
and likely just the tip of the iceberg!
I will report this to the Minister's office.
Just kidding! Good one, huh?
But yours was good too. I know a better one though.
What's the difference between Honecker and a phone?
None at all.
Hang up, try again!
- No, I have to get home. - Bye.
Cold?
Christa, you forgot our meeting on Thursday.
Or did your poet have two birthdays in a row?
Come on, get in.
Get in!
You don't know what's good for you.
Don't worry.
I'm looking after you.
Tell me you don't need it too.
Just say so, and I'll let you go.
I'm meeting someone.
Where do you think we're going?
I'm taking you to him! You'll be there even quicker.
Time for some bitter truths.
Yes?
Those idiots!
Next Thursday at the Metropol.
Drive!
Christa?
Just hold me.
Good evening, comrade!
You're 5 minutes late again.
Evening. 11th floor, right corridor.
I'm already up here.
How did you get into the building?
A bunch of you guys live here.
I don't think I've been here before.
No, I don't think you have.
Well? Was that nice?
- Stay awhile. - I can't,
my next customer is at half-past.
I work on a schedule.
At one-thirty? You won't make it.
Sure I will. Don't you worry.
Book me for longer next time.
Bye.
Georg? Did you hear about Hauser?
No, what happened?
He can't get a travel permit
for his lectures in the West.
Are you surprised?
If he acts so arrogantly, he should expect it.
Would you let him go, if you were in their position?
"CMS comes home. 'Lazlo' approves of Hauser's foreign travel ban."
Have you seen my Brecht book?
- What? - My Brecht book.
I don't know where it is.
Strange. I could've sworn...
One day in blue-moon September, silent under a plum tree,
I held her, my silent pale love, in my arms like a fair
and lovely dream.
Above us in the summer skies
was a cloud that caught my eye.
It was white and so high up.
And when I looked up, it was no longer there.
- Yes? - Georg? Wallner here.
What's up?
Georg, it's about Jerska.
He hanged himself last night.
Georg?
I'm going to hang up, okay?
"Sonata for a Good Man"
You know what Lenin said about Beethoven's 'Appassionata'.
"If I keep listening to it,
I won't finish the revolution."
Can anyone who has heard this music,
I mean truly heard it,
really be a bad person?
Are you really with the Stasi?
Do you even know what the Stasi is?
Yes. They're bad men who put people in prison, says my dad.
I see.
What's the name of your...
My what?
Ball! What's the name of your ball?
You're funny! Balls don't have names.
It's all in place, Minister.
The latest technology.
Behind every light switch, even in the toilet.
- Measure C in the hall... - You said you'd find something!
Find something!
I'd advise even my worst enemy not to disappoint me.
Now get out of here!
Nowack, you're to watch Christa-Maria.
You'll report on every minute that she's not with me.
We revoked Hauser's travel permit for the culture conference.
Maybe that'll lead to something. The two of them are very close.
How's it going between CMS and the Minister?
They're meeting tomorrow night, I think.
That's good! Very good! We have a lot to gain from this love story.
Or a lot to lose.
Don't forget that.
I used to be afraid of just two things:
Being alone, and not being able to write.
Since Albert's death, I don't care about writing
or about other people.
All I'm afraid of now is losing you.
You needn't be afraid tonight.
I'm just going out for a few hours.
Where to?
An old classmate's in town.
Really, Christa?
- Really? - How dare you!
I know.
I know where you're going.
And I'm asking you not to go.
You don't need him.
I know about your medication too.
And how little faith you have in your talent.
Have faith in me, at least.
Christa-Maria.
You are a great artist.
I know that. And your audience knows it too.
You don't need him.
Stay here.
Don't go to him.
No? Don't I need him? Don't I need this whole system?
What about you?
Then you don't need it either. Or need it even less.
But you get in bed with them too.
Why do you do it?
Because they can destroy you too,
despite your talent and your faith.
Because they decide what we play, who is to act,
and who can direct.
You don't want to end up like Jerska.
And neither do I.
That's why I'm going now.
You're right about so many things, and I want to change so much.
But I ask you,
I implore you: Don't go!
Well, boss, am I on time?
Let me guess what those two are doing...
Come on, I'll take over.
I don't want you to do overtime because of me.
"Don't go through that door."
Where's she going?
To meet an old classmate.
You'll have my detailed report tomorrow.
I can manage.
Good night.
What are you staring at?
Soda water.
No, uh... Vodka.
Double.
Another one.
Can I have a cognac, please?
Madam?
Go away, I want to be alone.
Ms. Sieland.
Do we know each other?
You don't know me, but I know you.
Many people love you
for who you are.
- Actors are never 'who they are.' - You are.
I've seen you on stage.
You were more who you are...
than you are now.
So you know what I'm like.
I'm your audience.
- I have to go. - Where to?
I'm meeting an old classmate. I...
You see? Just now you weren't being yourself.
No?
No.
So you know her well, this Christa-Maria Sieland.
What do you think...
Would she hurt someone who loves her above all else?
Would she sell herself for art?
For art?
You already have art. That'd be a bad deal.
You are a great artist.
Don't you know that?
And you are a good man.
"When I begin my shift, 'Lazlo' and CMS
are arguing about whether CMS should meet her classmate.
Eventually, she leaves. 'Lazlo' seems unhappy about this.
But after about 20 minutes, CMS returns,
to 'Lazlo's' surprise, and mine.
He seems very happy about this. Vigorous acts of intimacy follow.
She says she'll never leave again.
He says repeatedly: 'Now I'll have the strength, now I'll do something.'
This likely refers to writing a new stage play.
In recent weeks, 'Lazlo's' playwriting had been plagued by difficulties.
What she means by her statement is unclear.
Perhaps she intends to take better care of his household.
The rest of the night was peaceful."
Oh, comrade... uh... It's just because... He's sleeping too...
Good report.
Really?
I didn't know he was in such a bad way.
Neither did I.
"On One Who Made it to the Other Side:
The statistics office on Hans Beimler Street
counts everything, knows everything.
How many shoes I buy a year: 2.3.
How many books I read a year: 3.2.
And how many pupils graduate with straight A's every year: 6347.
But there is one thing they don't count,
maybe because even bureaucrats find it painful,
and that's suicides.
If you call Beimler Street to ask
how many people between the Elbe and the Oder,
between the Baltic Sea and the Ore Mountains despair drove to their death,
our numbers oracle is silent.
But it may just note your name for State Security...
Those grey men
who ensure safety in our land... and happiness.
In 1977, our country stopped counting suicides.
They called them 'self-murderers'.
But it has nothing to do with murder.
It knows no bloodlust,\no heated passion,
it knows only death, the death of all hope.
When we stopped counting,
only one country in Europe drove more people to their death:
Hungary.
We came next, the land of 'Real Existing Socialism'.
One of the uncounted is Albert Jerska,
the great director.
It's him I want to talk about today..."
I tried to get statistics that show...
...that State Security operates more effectively than we think!
I foolishly rehearsed
my speech for the West in here.
Since then, I've become very musical.
We can meet at my place.
"3 p.m., Pankow Memorial"
Well? Is this safe enough?
My own 'bodyguard'.
I call him Rolf. That's probably his name, too.
Fire away.
Here.
You want to publish this?
In the West, with your help.
Will you help? Have you told Christa?
No.
I'll help you,
as long as you don't tell her anything.
What?
Georg, it's for her own protection.
This could be right for the 'Spiegel'.
I'm friends with an editor there.
Gregor Hessenstein. Know him?
Not personally.
You have to meet him.
But you can't publish using your real name.
Unless your idea of fun is a 48-hour interrogation.
I'm cold!
We could go to my place?
There's no State Security at my place!
A friend of Margot Honecker,
winner of the National Award...
Second class!
My apartment is clean, I tell you!
If only we could be sure...
I have an idea how we can check your apartment.
You know my uncle Frank,
who visits from West Berlin every Saturday,
with his big gold Mercedes.
It seems a bit risky to me, Mr. Hauser.
Yes, I agree with Georg.
Hiding your nephew under the back seat?
I'm really not sure.
Come on, they won't search under the seats.