The words spoken by Edvard Munch during this film in the dialogue
and in the commentary are taken directly from his diaries.
You can meet me after dinner.
Consumption is widespread in Kristiania nowadays
especially amongst the poor
and in crowded areas.
How long are your working hours?
From six to six with an hour's break for lunch.
- How much do you earn? - Fifteen crowns a week.
Bless us, O Lord
and these Thy gifts
which of Thy bounty
we are about to receive. Amen.
I work in a factory too. I have to be up before five
to make breakfast for my husband and children.
- Do the children work? - Yes, they're at the factory too.
Eleven hours a day.
- Help yourself. - I'm too tired.
Sophie has asked me
to write down my last will for her.
I've called my testament My Exortations.
"My dear children. I am so afraid that in Heaven
"I shall miss you who are so dear to my heart here on earth.
"But, trusting in the Lord, I shall beg for your souls
"as long as He grants me life."
Father walked to and fro across the floor.
Then he sat down beside Mother on the sofa.
They whispered to each other and leaned against each other.
Karlemann looked at them
and wondered why tears ran down their cheeks.
Mamma's full name
was Laura Cathrine Munch.
Mamma was very weak.
She died a year after I was born.
Isn't it nice to be
together on an evening like this?
"Death and the kingdom of death were cast in the fiery sea.
"This is another death. If not written in The Book of Life..."
How long have you had it?
Three weeks.
- Is your throat sore? - Yes, a little.
Open wide and I'll have a look.
The first symptoms are fatigue and poor appetite,
an evening temperature and a hint of a cold.
When the disease develops, one's temperature rises
and the cold grows worse.
One begins to sweat at night.
Haemorrhage results in more than 50% of the cases.
What happens to those who believe in God
if they give way to masturbation?
- The unfortunate wretches go mad. - This applies to everyone.
We all have a sexual instinct. Everyone masturbates to some degree.
- Women too? - Women too.
What do you do out so late every night, Edvard?
You weren't home until the small hours last night.
So you've been spying on me?
I hear when you come home. I also know by the smell.
All evil can be traced to Christianity.
Christianity suppresses man's vital desires.
What is a "respectable human being"?
One who is not out at night drinking with people like that.
Be quiet, so that I may speak with Edvard.
Have you told your parents you don't believe in God?
I don't want to say I don't.
Why not? Can't you follow your free will?
Are you out drinking?
- Drinking? A glass of beer? - You smell of spirits, too.
That dreadful Jæger you mix with...
he's the Antichrist incarnate.
If there's no evil outside Christianity...
Of course there's evil but it comes from moral concepts.
Today's society would be happier if people
were allowed to develop their lusts and desires.
- I understand you. - Do you? You don't seem to.
You never do what I want. You follow your own course.
You don't understand me!
Much better than you think.
No, you don't.
We never seem to understand each other in this house!
I'll never be done with you,
since you never do what I want.
- I'm tired of this! - Now you be quiet!
The children missed school a lot because of illness
and I tried to study with them at home.
We can sit by the fire until the water gets hot
before you go to bed.
My sister Sophie
also died from tuberculosis.
She was 15 years of age.
"And I saw the dead stand before the throne
"and books were opened. The Book of Life was opened
"and the dead were judged in accordance with their deeds
"and the sea gave up its dead..."
My sister Laura was very talented.
She learned languages and mathematics effortlessly.
She got honours in Latin.
But she was born with a difficult and nervous disposition
so she could never
make use of her education.
It's so dreary at home! What did you do when you were young?
That doesn't concern you. At any rate I wasn't out and about.
You get no inspiration from those people. And that woman...
It would've turned out better if I hadn't been scolded at home.
Edvard, I want to talk to you.
Your aunt said that a plate was broken.
Was it Peter Andreas?
- No, it was Laura. - No, it was Edvard.
The Bible says that you're punished! Onan was punished.
It also says that man
must replenish the earth.
One doesn't do that by masturbating!
That was nice and warm, wasn't it?
Now we'll wash our ears.
Half of the adults in this country are women.
They are also citizens but they are placed under guardianship
and are tyrannised by men and by society
emotionally, legally and economically.
I must make sure that there aren't too many bills at once.
In the workplaces where we're admitted, industries and schools,
we get one-third of the wages men get for the same work.
What sort of work do they do?
They work at putting together matchboxes.
Their fingers are burned by the phosphorus.
How much do they earn?
One crown a day.
How old are the children?
The oldest is 14. The youngest girl is 12.
The most important thing in art
is its own means, like colour.
It doesn't matter what you paint. You can paint horse dung.
- Then you paint for yourself? - The colour must be a joy to see.
Who wants to look at horse dung?
The paint can be an aesthetic pleasure for you.
But the public need not regard it as an aesthetic pleasure.
He must concentrate on art!
People must undergo an experience looking at art.
But which people? The bourgeoisie.
They can afford
to buy works of art.
But what about those who queue for food?
"To Norway, giants' native land Let's drink this toast of honour"
There has been a lot of illness
and death in our family.
Mamma died of tuberculosis when she was 30 years old
and Granny died of the same disease when she was 36.
I have a dream of founding a school for young women
who are morally confined.
Just look at the bourgeoisie
and all the middle-class girls that suffer from anaemia.
It's a good cause. I mean... founding a school for them
and teaching them to develop their feeling for love.
They can become capable of feeling.
All the virtuous little misses
will trip down the Karl Johan.
His father walked back and forth. He kept his hands clasped.
I consider marriage
to be based on something which is completely impossible for me.
One is obliged to love another human being all one's life.
It seems utterly absurd. No one can order me
to love someone I have grown to hate.
What do you think of the Bohemians' conduct?
One might characterise their conduct as follows:
I consider it to be extremely unprepossessing
and a distinct danger for certain easily influenced souls.
I'm not talking about prostitutes but human beings who can love.
The only thing they seem capable of is so-called free love.
But rabbits are capable of that too.
"I love you, love you. Take me, kiss me, hold me and then
"embrace me, hug me so that I never breathe again.
"Your kiss is so fiery tonight.
"Fever takes you in command.
"Your tears run slowly down and burn into my hand."
"Do you think that I've tired of you?
"Oh no! Smile happily as you did before.
"Stay with me tonight.
"Let my arm curl close about your waist."
How were sexual matters
dealt with in your home?
They weren't dealt with at all.
Everything was kept secret around me.
I understood nothing until it was too late.
In her testament, Mamma asked us to be good
and to love Jesus.
I try to obey my lusts.
We have only one life and
we must develop our ability to feel and to love.
Sophie, shall we sing a Christmas carol?
Four of Granny's eight children died before they were 16.
The Kristiania Bohemians say, "Thou shalt
take thine own life." What are your views on that?
I think it is wrong.
We don't have a right to throw away the lives God has given us.
They should be used for Him and our lives do have a meaning.
Tell us about his work.
Edvard Munch is a talented young painter.
But he's more interested
in painting light and shadow than social conditions.
What sort of a person is he?
Very reticent, almost aristocratically so
which creates a distance to the other members of the group.
We must take part in
what is happening around us
and, what with poverty and need and children who have to work,
we must join forces with the people
not with the bourgeoisie.
Painters mustn't be led astray by new ideas...
My Lord!
...but sacrifice themselves for their painting.
Painting?
Yes, but his painting emerges from his own person.
He is the one who paints.
So art must express the subjective view
of the artist on reality.
Edvard, my brother,
almost died too from the same disease.
Lord God, I beg you...
Has all the suffering
in your family affected your faith?
I don't think it's for me to interfere in God's will.
He loves us and we must be grateful.
"Our Father who art in Heaven
"Hallowed be Thy name Thy kingdom come
"Thy will be done in earth As it is in Heaven."
Munch's family is puritan.
Everyone who's seen his father knows that.
When he's with us
he has to go home for family evening prayer!
"Lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil
"For Thine is the kingdom The power and the glory
"For ever.
"Amen."
- Have you met his family? - I've not seen him pray either.
He sits there like a monk!
It was distressing for the older children
to see so much illness and death.
Are you sick?
"If anyone worships the beast's image
"and receives a mark on his forehead or hand
"he shall drink the wine of God's wrath
"poured unmixed into the cup of his anger
"and he shall be tormented in the presence of the holy angels."
To be free on Sundays I have to work 17 to 18 hours the other days.
It's hard work.
Some of my friends, after working hours,
make so little that they often take to the streets.
Look at prostitution in Kristiania today.
According to Christian morals there is no prostitution today.
It's typical that prostitution is controlled by the police.
But you're for making people live on prostitution.
No. In my society there is no room for prostitution.
It's the bourgeoisie who gain from prostitution.
Yet bourgeois morals do not allow it to exist:
"Thou shallt not commit adultery."
What are your views on marriage?
In my opinion
marriage is an incalculably important and necessary institution
which undoubtedly forms the foundation
of our social and cultural structure.
Without marriage, rootless and chaotic conditions would arise
which in turn, I fear,
might easily lead to anarchy.
In brief, if we want to maintain peace and order,
it is essential to support and expand our institutions.
The way society is today, if one marries and has a wife,
she is just as prostituted as "the girls from Viken".
Sit there.
Those who are prostituted are excluded from society
by the same people...
Lean back.
...who've put them in that situation.
That's the bourgeoisie's love of humanity.
A little wider. Raise your feet higher.
- Name and address. - Line Pedersen.
When I ask for your name, I want your surname first.
- Pedersen. - Name...
Pedersen.
Because of my illness, I'm grateful for the girls in Viken
but I don't use them any more than Mr Average uses his wife.
To me marriage is legal prostitution.
You can go now.
I assume the present assembly
is well aware of who it is
that uses prostitutes: The bourgeoisie and the police.
Once, when Grandfather came home from a business trip,
he found Granny behind a screen together with
three dead children.
Hello.
You live quite close to here? Then we're neighbours.
- Will you visit me one day? - I'd like to.
Some ladies are visiting today. Perhaps tomorrow?
- Aren't you hungry? - Yes, I am hungry.
Beautiful landscape here.
It's so blue.
All the things he'd wanted to say! He felt awkward and afraid.
They walked on in silence. His cheeks burned.
She spent time in bed
coughing into a handkerchief.
Did blood come this time too?
- I kissed you. Are you angry? - No.
Kissed your neck...
If you're angry, you can beat me.
I'm not angry.
Perhaps you'll let me kiss your mouth?
I'm in a fortunate position, married with no children.
One is free when one is married and has no children.
But what about your husband?
He's nice. He lets me do as I please.
- Is he as nice as that? - He's awfully nice.
I probably hurt him but I can't help it. I have to.
Stand still like that. Let me see you.
How picturesque you are in this light.
I'm so restless at night. I can't sleep.
I have such dreadful dreams.
I sleepwalk. I have such a longing to come to you.
I do so like the dark. I can't stand the light.
It should be like tonight. So mysterious.
I could do the most awful things in the dark. Anything.
He looked at the worn steps.
He remembered all he had heard about her,
all the lovers who had passed here and quarrelled with her husband.
He looked well, he thought.
It was so heavy and dark and subdued.
He'd heard she usually lay on the couch all morning.
The light in here was favourable.
Have you seen how the hair grows out of his ears?
Now he felt shy.
He could find nothing to say.
When they were near he felt that she waited for him
to throw his arms about her.
We got these last spring. They were rather expensive.
But he thought it was... he felt cold.
It was the same shyness.
He longed to be out in the fresh air.
This is where my husband works. He's very orderly.
Daddy, what I'm spitting up is so dark.
Everything has its place.
I made that for him.
- Shall we go out? - No, I can't.
Perhaps this evening?
It's blood, Daddy.
I don't want to!
He stroked his head. Don't be afraid, my son.
I don't want to!
What? Don't you want to? Come here.
Are you crazy?
Don't be so frightened.
What a wretched idiot you are.
A cowardly wretch!
Why are you so set on becoming a great painter?
You're going to die anyway. Then you'll be gone.
How quiet it is in the forest.
Imagine living here, not alone but with someone else.
It's so mysterious here.
Shouldn't he sit a little closer?
But he remained where he was, staring at Mrs Heiberg.
At table Petra said,
"I saw you talk to Mrs Heiberg.
"Wasn't it Mrs Heiberg?"
"Yes," he said carelessly and reddened.
"She looks dull," his father said. "She behaves badly to her husband."
People talk so much.
What a ridiculous dream
it has been all these years.
A great painter... It's better than being a doctor.
But, compared to a king, it's nothing.
And a king is no more than a tiny microbe.
I've started work on a few canvases
and there is one of them I think
I can get something out of.
I think it is going to be
a good painting. I'm already very pleased with it.
I've been thinking of you.
In the colours especially, I can develop myself.
It's something new. As I said, I think it will be good.
Is something troubling you?
I do have a lot on my mind. I have worries too.
I have my work to think of.
The beautiful pale face with its soft full mouth,
half closed eyes and throat.
He had to own it again,
to look into those eyes, so often hard.
Sophie and Edvard...
I shall soon be leaving you
and I'm so afraid of what will happen to our family.
That's why I want to talk to you
and I hope you can promise me
to take care of Laura, Andreas and Inger
so that I can go to heaven with an easy mind.
- Will you promise me, Sophie? - Yes, Mamma.
- Will you promise me, Edvard? - Yes, Mamma.
I feel you in here very strongly.
- Have you had physical relationships? - Many.
Do you feel that you've fulfilled yourself as a human being?
I try. But there are many obstacles.
- Do you achieve satisfaction? - Now but not before.
When one is born one knows nothing.
One is surrounded by adults one looks up to,
adults full of words and prejudices.
Particularly in my family which is very bourgeois.
I was filled with lots of admonitions.
You mustn't do this. Do that.
Things that I wanted to do
were considered wrong and conflicts arose.
I've been thinking of you all night. I haven't slept.
A plate was broken today.
Was it you?
- No, it was Sophie. - Sophie, did you do it?
No. Edvard.
- Sophie, was it you? - No. Edvard.
"I went down on my knees
"and stretched my hands with my gaze resting on her eyes.
"Her eyes retained their shy expression.
"Then at once they grew large and tender.
"And she drew me up to her, put her arms about me
"and rested her head against my shoulders.
"I leaned my head against hers and kissed her black hair."
"She lay there with her head back and her beautiful throat exposed.
"I kissed it and wanted to carry her to the bed.
"But the touch of her soft limbs
"took all strength from my arms."
And that married woman - you shouldn't be seen with her.
Have you got something besides your work to think of?
I feel much calmer. I sleep at night too.
That's fine.
You know that I need you.
I'm so happy you came.
What wonderful lips you have.
I waited for half an hour on the Karl Johan.
And when at last she came
she simply walked past.
She scarcely looked at me.
It's a good thing I don't like her any more.
When I try to live according to what is right for me
and try to find my freedom and live according to my rules,
the only thing the bourgeoisie are interested in
is how many love affairs I have.
Only my friends look at and talk about what I do...
talk about my paintings.
She talked about how he had not greeted her on the street,
how she was just as good as other ladies.
Look at Mrs Pettersen who went with the lieutenant to Paris.
It made him shudder to hear of her affection.
Her hand was large and coarse. She placed her cheek against his.
He turned his head away
so their mouths didn't meet.
She was too repulsive.
I'm so glad you came.
I saw you out with another man.
Just a friend.
Just a friend?
I'd been waiting half an hour and you walked straight past!
I was with Lt. Lund.
He's just a friend.
Don't shout.
Everybody can hear.
Damn it, I have hundreds of things to think of. This can't go on!
I waited for more than half an hour!
- Who was it? - The banker.
Perhaps if I tell her that it's all my fault...
Perhaps then she'll like me...
If I tell her I could die for her...
This is nothing to laugh at!
Don't take it so much to heart.
There are plenty of women with her qualities.
I find it difficult to know what life I should lead.
Even if I try to live freely with men, they don't change.
They consider that a woman should behave
in such-and-such a way, which I can't do.
It's long past midnight
and you're out every evening.
Will you answer?
- Don't push me! - Are you drunk?
What do you do when you're out?
He's just a friend.
This can't go on!
I feel that if ever I am to find myself
I can't adapt myself to their standards.
Men I am with, who say that they are free,
have beliefs too, which obstruct my freedom.
In fact I don't even know what my freedom is.
I can't take any more of this. You know that!
We mustn't speak to each other like this. We mustn't.
You're a human being in a society oppressed
by standards and prejudices in every direction.
Painters can't take notice of political programmes.
You have to paint something as you see it.
You can't sit down and paint details.
If you come from a bedroom into the living room in the morning
and see everything as if in a bluish light,
even the darkest shadows,
that's how you should paint it. As you see it.
Colour means a great deal. Colour is the mainstay of painting.
Mood as well.
She let herself be drawn closer. Right up against him.
He held her gently about the waist. She reached up towards him.
He felt a warm mouth against his throat, a wet mouth against his
and his mouth slipped in towards hers.
"A feeling of sweet impotence poured over my shoulders
"and flowed through my limbs.
"I knelt and pressed her tight against me
"and kissed her uncovered throat like one possessed."
Something I don't understand occurs again and again
and that is that a relationship starts strongly.
And I know what passion is.
I don't know what love is but I know what passion is.
The odd thing is that it begins with the feeling
that all is worthless
without this one person.
We should not have spoken of it.
And gradually, without you noticing what is happening,
this person becomes the one who holds you back.
She looked into my eyes with her fair hair
and her pale, delicate skin.
We had a good time when last we met, didn't we?
- I like you. - You're sweet.
I've been thinking of you.
The whole time.
- I like you too. - How beautiful you are.
You're strange.
But you're a fine person. You're sweet.
What do you think of women
who have extra-marital relationships?
In my opinion a woman is and ought to be a defenceless
and beautiful little being, both in body and soul,
who needs the protection and security
of a man.
If you think this is funny, it's...
She smiled with her pale lips and white teeth.
We suit each other, don't we? You're so strange, Munch.
I received a copy of the book from the police in Kristiania
with certain parts underlined.
I telegraphed at once to ask all the police commissioners
to stop publication of the book.
In this part the lead character in the book
addresses himself to a very young girl,
so young that she could be his daughter.
She is sitting on his knee.
This will give you an idea of what it's about.
"Listen, I said to her while I patted her on the cheek.
"Let's have a sensible little chat.
"Do you know what this is? I had taken a condom from my pocket.
"No, she said. Well, I'll tell you..."
"...and it doesn't pass through because...
"And I blew up the condom. Not even air passes through."
I could read more but I think that suffices.
Does imprisonment influence your work?
No, it has no influence whatsoever.
That good people, who use literature for diversion,
scream and cross themselves means nothing. I knew they would.
It provokes the bourgeoisie who live their cozy, false life.
It provokes them to see free women.
Everything outside the fence they have raised around themselves
is so terrifying for them
except perhaps in their dreams, when they indulge in fantasies.
But, because I live openly and freely,
I think they become terrified.
The so-called free women we're always hearing about,
they can't be quite normal
but they can become normal if they discover their real capacity.
Half an hour before she came
and she just smiles as she passes by...
with another man.
Oh, damn!
Finally I finished, exhausted.
I had brought out a lot of the first impression,
the trembling mouth,
the transparent shine and the tired eyes
but the colours were not finished.
It was pale and grey. The painting was heavy as lead.
The public won't accept that sort of madness.
When one passes
people stand laughing at the painting.
Some people always set themselves up as guardians over others.
In literature they decide what is decent and indecent.
A human life is decent
but writing about human sexual life is indecent.
As long as I can write,
I'll combat society and its rules to create a society
in which literature is free.
Who has the right to stop anyone writing about his emotional life?
No one!
The best way to judge Munch's picture is to see it at a distance.
The colours and contours appear most clearly on cloudy days.
If one really wants to get a better impression
of this extremely strange painting,
one should look at it like this, between two fingers.
I'm faltering. I think I am falling.
But he has been lured into throwing away his talent
in such a useless way
and encouraged to follow this path which leads nowhere.
I have no feeling in my legs. They won't carry me.
Everyone passing looks alien and strange.
I think they are all staring at me.
My whole body is shaking.
Sweat pours from me.
I have received an anonymous letter in my capacity as critic
in which the writer claims to see nothing but meaninglessness
and an attempt to be original in Munch's work.
All I can say to this person is that he get himself
a new pair of eyes.
Anyone who can't see that here we have a great
and genuine talent, has no right
to judge art at all.
I want life, that which is alive.
What do I care whether the chair is properly made?
What I wanted to bring out is what cannot be measured.
The tired movement in the eyes, in the eyelids.
The lips must seem to have whispered something.
It must have been painted by one almost mentally deranged
who sees hallucinations as if in a fever.
I lay down on a sofa in the corner. I lay half asleep.
I hated them for looking at me.
It is possible that Munch can speak in some way or other
to those with a sick emotional life.
But I think it's one of the most dreadful things I've ever seen.
One would have expected that a painter who presents his paintings
at a public exhibition, would respect people's taste
in a totally different way.
Why do you think I shouted so angrily
and said I couldn't see you again?
It was because you lied!
It's your inaccessibility that makes me so angry!
You said I shouldn't come so often.
Yes, but then I didn't know how much I liked you.
You've forgotten me now. You have someone else.
I love you.
If I'd only known that you went to somebody else to punish me.
It's the uncertainty that makes me so nervous, so furious.
You demand more and more love from me.
Don't you understand I can't give you more than I have?
The moment you show your feelings, it seems like
you want to take something stolen back.
Is it for your art you save yourself?
You need a woman and yet you don't want one.
I like you but we really can't meet like this.
You follow me everywhere. You plague me.
Jealousy is possessiveness.
Your jealousy is driving me to other love affairs.
You can't own a woman.
It's impossible.
They kiss each other, just now, at this moment,
and she says she is fond of him.
Hidden behind the stairs, she whispers to the lieutenant
the same words as she previously whispered to him.
Do you want to hold my hand? I'm so alone.
No, not here.
You know that I like you, but...
...more as a friend.
Friendship is...
Friendship is so little. Life is short.
This is very serious. We should notify them.
I don't know where they live.
I feel so young.
I try to see life optimistically.
We have different views on life.
You seem a little gloomy.
You seem weak, a little tired of life.
I don't want to kiss you.
They looked at each other without speaking.
At that moment he had a feeling that life's greatest happiness
had slipped from his grasp.
There were tears in her eyes.
Have you seen Miss C. since she married?
I expect things are difficult for you.
It must feel strange when you think of her.
Why has Munch's work changed so much since The Sick Child?
I can only guess something must have happened to him,
which made him lose faith in himself and his art,
poor criticism and other factors.
Society accepts that a man has a mistress
but, if a woman has a lover, it's quite different.
Later perhaps... Perhaps we can meet then.
Everything could be different.
We mustn't take it so casually.
If I marry, I must live for my husband.
A woman often marries because she needs to be supported.
She can't earn what she needs to live.
What was she thinking as she sleepwalked along?
A Madonna-like beauty.
That's the way it goes, year after year, a sort of trap.
Having now promised to live together in matrimony
and vouchsafed it before God and this congregation, I declare you...
Was she now thinking also of the pale man behind the column?
...and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
What God has joined together,
let no man put asunder.
She forced her way between me and my ideal,
my art!
Yet I can't stop loving her.
I can't put up with
any more of her lies!
Her love is poisonous!
She has feelings, too.
I don't give a damn!
Damn it, I said to her, you're lying on white sheets.
Your body will be deformed by disease and rot.
You're going to die ugly and stinking!
I'll laugh while I drink wine with beautiful women.
My joy will be even greater than the despair she brought.
I shall laugh, laugh, laugh!
We wish to thank the men, women and children
of Oslo and Åsgårdstrand who appear in this film.
We are very grateful for invaluable help from
Additional thanks
We wish to thank the staff at the Munch Museum in Oslo
without whose help this film could not have been made.
Directed and Edited by PETER WATKINS and written in collaboration
with the cast, many of whom express their own opinions.