It screams at me out of every second of time,
from the leaves on the trees, from the rubbish beneath my feet.
The sun is shining, the birds are singing,
so keep smiling.
The only thing I've got to say about that is shit.
Shit!
I protest! You hear me?
I protest!
Bohemia reminds me the most of a chamber pot.
With Prague in its very centre
More specifically, I can’t shit by myself.
L'image surréaliste...
May I take it away?
No.
- Would you like anything else? - Pernod.
It hasn't come yet, I'm sorry.
Taking quite a long time, isn't it?
It's two years since the war ended.
Surrealists only drink Pernod!
Do you know why?
Because it's so cheap
that even the proletarian masses can afford it.
Of course. How about some excellent homemade vermouth?
- I'm waiting for an explanation! - What exactly?
You have 121 hours of absence without leave!
A modern day hero doesn't need to fart around in school. Sorry.
Everybody goes to school.
I'm not afraid to be different.
Are you going into the stewed fruit business?
You haven't washed your hands.
We're going to eat.
What I really need is to study life.
You need discipline!
That's the soldier in you speaking.
Tomorrow you'll go and apologize to the headmaster.
And that's all I'm saying about it!
He's a senile old fart.
He can't see further than he pisses.
He's younger than me.
Enjoy your meal.
It's good.
-Dad, big changes are coming. -Not too salty, is it?
A world revolution is coming!
-You're talking like a communist. -A Marxist! It's different.
That Marxism of yours is just a classic example
of how a few dogmatists can fanaticize the masses!
Without any means of comparison, Ivan,
one often judges things incorrectly!
You can't stop progress.
That's enough!
My son won't be a Marxist or a communist and that's that!
Is that clear?!
You don't know anything about it.
-Sit down! Where are you going? -No!
I said, sit down!
Since mum died you're just a boring old fart.
You can live here on your own!
And so our lightened heart, its pulses pressing
Thus wills us still to love, with will for living.
Classic poetry is finished. Shakespeare, Goethe
What do lines like this mean?
... and so our lightened heart, its pulses pressing...
-How would you write it? -Better, of course.
Pass me the bread!
-What does schlagen mean? -To beat.
Writing poems is useless.
We'll talk about that when I'm famous.
-Hello. -Hi.
Is it good or just okay?
My vegetative system is completely thrown out
by this endless diet of beans.
You're here illegally, so you should shut up!
Karel...
Do you want some more?
You're just a poser,
who doesn't know what hunger is!
Tonda, what is hunger?
Ivan?
Here... you haven't eaten much today.
What are you doing?
Writing.
Poems?
Something like that.
Because I am the greatest living poet,
I have thought about poetry.
The only real measure are the seconds I spend helpless.
Nice.
I won't disturb you.
I'm a poet!
Freedom of an artist, as every individual, must be unconditional.
In a society not burdened with hypocritical morality
sex is viewed in the same way as anything else.
-Such as? -Writing, cooking...
So while I'm cooking I can do it with several guys at the same time?
Modern man assumes
that everyone has love for everyone else.
Or rather not for everyone, but with everyone.
In the most concrete way.
No alcohol or visitors are allowed in the rooms.
Wait, don't be stupid.
Pour everyone a glass.
Blimey!
Now it’s certain, that we have booze from a communist worker.
It's the artist's duty to make every moment unrepeatable!
What are you doing?
-Wait and see. -Give me that!
I'm punching a hole in the fog!
Ivan, no!
I'm burning with desire and hope!
Everything at this moment is intertwined - you and me!
Metaphysically and spatially... like a gigantic pretzel!
Happiness, freedom...
That's what happiness is, my friends!
You're mad.
That was good, wasn't it?
I'll dress it for you, sit down.
It's out of fashion anyway.
Hanes?
The hopes of world poetry!
-I left home. -At last.
I guess your dad doesn't like it.
-Where are you living? -In a boarding house.
I met a girl on my way here.
Hanes?
Okay, where is it then?
Wait, who was she?
Wouldn't you like to know? She left some photos here.
I never saw her here.
Oooh this one, or this...
Imagine if they all belonged to us.
What would you do with so many women?
I'd autograph their diaries.
-With a wet pencil? -Exactly. Here.
I can't give him this.
It's an original, it's valuable.
Original? It's a mess!
I want to have it published as soon as possible.
Patience is not your strength.
Can I borrow it?
Yes, I don't think anyone would delay it.
You have my word.
Hi.
Let's go.
You can count on me.
Good morning. I'm Ivan Heinz.
Hanes Walter gave you my poems and...
I appreciate that such a famous critic
has found time for my notebook and...
I'm working. Try again another time.
Next week perhaps.
But not in the morning.
And say hello to Hanes.
What a stench!
Philosophically speaking, I should be grateful to you for this job.
We're actually participating in a kind of existential mass.
This is what's left
of what was consumed in beauty and freshness.
This is where everything returns to where it came from.
Here I look at myself from above
and I tell myself: man, this is a celebration of humanity.
Did you know that a veterinary professor in England
tried to prove the harmlessness and sterility of a newborn's feces
so right there on the dissecting table in front of his students
he ate the contents of a young calf's intestines with a spoon.
What did he wash it down with?
How's it going, boys? Come inside for some soup.
Just two more thimblefuls, ma'am, and we're done.
At twilight I say fuck it.
I look down at the table's trestle.
No one knows I'm a Marxist.
I'm a bit late.
If something's in here, then everyone's wearing it.
Maybe they're just here as sample hairstyles.
-May I be frank? -Of course.
These were written by a boy who hasn't achieved anything yet,
and that bothers him.
Forget about verbal pirouettes,
throw out everything you wrote using reason
and write the first thing that comes to you.
So you didn't like them?
Not one bit.
Have I made a bad impression?
You really took me apart!
That's what I call psychoanalysis! From a single notebook of poems.
You know what?
I don't need anyone to tell me what I'm like.
Contempt is one of the risks of creating.
Are we going to see each other again?
I'll have to think about it.
A vivid fantasy, a fantastic sense of rhythm...
I'm a miracle of modern poetry, you'll see!
When I empty all of my cloaca
the true epidemic of shock will come!
You're onto something,
but you must feed the text with spontaneous energy,
write so fast it hurts.
It has to spurt out of you like blood.
And don't think; you can fill in the gaps afterwards.
-That's a recipe? -No, I don't hand out recipes.
That can end in you writing thousands of pages
and for nothing.
Just rubbish, boring and embarrassing.
But it's all about the ride. Got it?
Long live the revolution!
I was looking forward to people celebrating in the street.
Hurrah!
Karel said he would have it in time.
What's going on?
The building is being taken over by the militia.
What?
By order of the minister of the interior.
Everyone from Prague has to move out straight away.
How come? Who said so?
Don't go there!
I want to see some kind of authorization!
Do you hear me?
This can't be allowed!
This goes also up there!
Son of a bitch...
Where's the notebook?
Are you talking to me?
It's the original of my collection!
You look like you need a drink.
I haven't got anything.
Some bastard spilt it all the other night.
You'd better go.
You son of a bitch!
Karel, please!
-Stop it! -I'd kill you if I could.
Leave him alone!
Stop!
Why are you always hanging around where you're not wanted?
Get out!
I'll miss you!
We want to resolve this crisis constitutionally,
democratically and in parliament,
on the basis of a broad front,
representing all of the working classes...
Hanes, this is no fun anymore.
I get along with everyone.
I'm ideologically promiscuous, and I'm not ashamed to say it.
Politics is evil.
Look, doctor, what they've done to you.
From chief physician to a foreman in a garage,
that's what I call a career!
But you're okay, thanks to me.
Physical work enslaves artists like us.
No one can tell me any different.
Want some?
The day after tomorrow, Lukas is throwing a party.
We can stuff ourselves.
I'll stay at home.
-Honor to labor! -Cut the jokes!
This should have been finished hours ago!
-I need to drive somewhere. -All right.
In Podmokly
In Podmokly, we write with shit on wet walls.
Shit, I'm in a hurry again.
There are more in the kitchen under the window.
I heard that militia of theirs go to pre-picked shops
and take whatever they want.
They simply steal it.
So what's the law that's protecting those people then?
Power.
You should have seen his face! He didn't think I'd do it.
So I told him
that only sexual perversion leads to a spiritual life.
Many long for a life full of passion,
but few have the courage to try.
The majority of women wouldn't refuse him.
The opinion of the majority stinks.
Where's Hanes?
He's not well.
Come in.
They can't just do what they want!
What do you expect? They won the election, didn't they?
-They didn't! -But they put the government together.
They'll make themselves look ridiculous.
German intellectuals spent 15 years ridiculing the Nazis.
-And what did they achieve, Viktor? -That's absurd.
At least they tried!
I... we've got to agitate.
Ask impertinent questions.
Open up room for...
We'll fluff up people’s little farting.
They won't take our revolution away!
Do you want to work in peace? Bollocks!
We'll bring you chaos!
You must steer people away from conformism.
Only then will they start thinking!
Ivan Heinz, my friend and a promising poet.
I give you 4, maybe 6 months.
Am I supposed to be afraid, after three years in a concentration camp?
It's just newspaper articles.
So you won't be surprised.
-I'm off. -Excuse me.
-Goodbye. -Bye.
Best regards to Hanes.
There's a box in the kitchen with some food for you.
-Thanks. -See you.
Do you have a cigarette?
Sure.
The beard doesn't suit you.
Let me guess.
You're about nineteen - at the most.
That coat hasn't been to the cleaner's for at least a year
so you don't live with your parents.
And as you're taking away some food it's clear
you're broke right now.
I'll be twenty... one!
Can I touch you?
You want to touch me?
Well, and to get a little personal,
I noticed you have a nice ass.
Thanks for the cigarette.
Hey!
Friday, 4 p.m. Tomanova 6, 3rd floor JANA
Let it be summer!
Here. And drink it while it's still hot.
Thanks.
In Czechoslovakia twelve million people are happy
And in Russia two hundred million
Only I alone
I am like a ratty earthworm
I am fat
When I laugh I'm like a monkey
When I look serious my head is round
And when I put on a cap I look like an idiot
I look terrible.
You're a poet. People expect that.
I should at least shave.
I think it rather suits you.
You've been coughing like that for a month.
It'll get better.
Nothing will get better.
Tomorrow you're going to go to the doctor's.
If not, I'll call the movers.
I'll get them to engrave on the wardrobe:
Now is too late. Now I'm lying in the grave.
I met Jana at Lukas' place.
-What exactly does she do? -Nothing.
She inherited some money.
Both of her parents died at the end of the war.
Her grandfather was the president's dentist.
Bourgeoisie?
Something like that.
You shouldn't go anywhere near her.
-What do you mean? -I'd like to read now.
Hanes...?
- What do you want now? -What's she like?
I don't know.
But you were dating her!
If you win her, you lose, and if not, you lose as well.
I don't care whether I win or lose.
I just want to play.
I'm warning you, Ivan.
This place is... I think it's... fantastic!
-You live here alone? -Depends.
You...?
-Would you mind? -No! Not at all.
Promise me you'll submit completely to everything
that happens from now on.
It depends...
Yes or no?
Yes.
You promised!
-Is that you? -Yes.
And him?
My ex. We got divorced.
Lie down.
Are you scared?
No.
Listen to what I wrote.
He moved his hand towards her for what seemed like eternity.
And it was an incredible distance he travelled in that moment.
It contained all future lies and past truths.
It hid both gentleness and scars.
Until the last moment he didn't know if he would caress her or strike her.
Finally, he asked her to give him her hand...
Not now.
I won't kiss you. If I don't want to you won't seduce me.
We're brother and sister.
And for how long?
From my dad. He asked how you were.
Thanks.
Two things that accompany poetry, like any other creation,
are alcoholism and suicide.
I'll give examples: Mayakovsky, Jesenin...
Verlaine. Well, he only drank himself to death.
Whoever, in these times, wants to write
or whoever wants to write at all, must never sober up.
Let's drink to that!
So recite something.
Come on!
Okay.
Alone
I walk along the street, alone, along Národní třída.
That is all.
I reject the view that poems should make sense.
Oh my sweet Zizi...
Your little breasts, your little legs, legs...
Where were we?
The uncertainty of the artist.
The artist is never sure if he is on the right path.
The only certainty is that if you get drunk now,
you'll be happy, and then you'll have a terrible hangover.
Stop it, Vincent.
And in the morning that hangover will assure you that nothing is free.
Yes, that's the right one!
That would be nothing in Paris!
They'd strip off straight away.
Tell me how she likes it?
That's none of your business.
The main thing is to eat a lot.
Don't worry, mum.
I'll talk to the doctor. Goodbye.
Hello.
Hi.
Dad's supplies.
Is it allowed to smoke here?
Out of your hair I will weave strings,
I will pull them to the crescent moon
and while snow falls and there's frost all around us,
I will be full of tenderness...
You forgot to mention that she's an utterly wonderful, magical being.
Do you know that the role
played by the libido relationship to a woman
determines the whole life line of a man?
No.
So look at yourself.
You look as if they hit you with a sack.
Did you sleep with her yet?
In my thoughts, perhaps a hundred times.
I never managed it, even after three months.
I can wait.
Once we were walking around the flat naked all day long.
She excited me but I wasn't allowed to touch her.
When I'd had enough of it, she spread naked on the floor
and wanted me to portray her.
Well, and... ?
Like an idiot I sat down and started drawing.
I don't like that jewel.
Have you had many lovers?
Which one was the best?
The last one.
Jana... please...
Why do you make me wait?
How could I force you to do anything? I'm only a woman.
And I'm only a man! If you get it at all.
It's enough just to touch.
Are you afraid I won't be careful?
I can't have children.
-I'm doing it for you. -For me?
The impossibility of fusion with an erotic object often leads
to the sublimation of the sexual instinct into artistic creation.
Would you like some eggs?
Dad?
But I'd like to see some people. Not a flock of sheep!
Why the hell is everyone quiet?
Look at them.
They look like a parade of complete idiots.
An idiot marches, the party celebrates.
And they say: "Mankind - that has a proud sound".
That might have been true before they invented the concentration camps.
-How's Hanes? -Things could be better.
I don't think they'll look for that manuscript at Jana's.
You don't have to if you don't want to.
I can't work like this...
Emanuel Bonn?
The work is, right from the start, independent of the author.
Shit government, shit democracy and shit freedom
Shit the splendid economic prosperity of the nation
Shit peace and shit work
Shit entertainment that's no fun
Shit beauty, shit art
Shit money with or without reform
Shit Marx and shit the revolution!
That's total Bonn realism.
Coming...
I will be in textbooks.
I don't have a pen. Please, come this way.
Jana?
Jana!
Another of your games?
I don't take it seriously, Jana.
Open the door, damn it!
Jana!
You know what?
Fuck this! Because this is too much for me!
Stupid cow!
Do whatever you want, got it?!
Bull’s-eye! I knew you'd be here.
Were you jealous or were you excited?
Leave me alone!
Why did you do it?
What?
You deliberately slept with a guy
who stuck his head in the door for five minutes!
In my presence!
He was attractive.
How can you be so cynical!
Not cynical. Amoral.
But even amorality can be valuable
in a certain artistic way, don't you think?
I'm through!
I thought you would break the door down
and maybe beat me up.
Is that what you want?
Tell me it only was a game!
People can sleep with someone at random.
Or not go home for a week.
It doesn't mean anything.
Ivan, come on!
We're not compatible!
Who was that postman?
I've never seen him before.
-Stop frowning. -I'm not frowning.
You are.
Emanuel Bonn, I know who you are.
Want to go to the cinema?
Go.
-It used to be in the study. -Well, it'll be there, then.
Did you put it somewhere? Try to remember!
If they knew about the manuscript they'd already be here.
It's just a matter of time.
This is Prague, not Moscow. There'll be an explanation.
For Christ's sake, stop sitting there and help me find it!
To hell with the proletarian revolution!
You won't force it to us!
Social democracy is bullshit!
Piss off, you bastards! Can you hear me?
Are you mad?
I refuse to shit myself in fear of them!
Hello.
Don't come here anymore, please.
Do you know at least why they arrested him?
I'm sorry.
Where did it all go wrong?
Were they promising something they didn't want to fulfill?
I wanted equality, but without the loss of noble qualities.
I received a letter from the army.
I'm going to be drafted.
Won't you look inside?
I thought you could do some illustrations for my collection of poems.
Do you still believe it'll be published?
Move me to the window, please.
You've put on weight, Hanes.
I can see it quite clearly.
We're sitting in the restaurant of an expensive hotel in Paris
signing the edition of my first collection.
A girl with a thin, velvet neck is sitting at the bar.
Her fur coat is made of silver fox,
otherwise, she is completely naked.
I can't see her face, but the air has the fragrance of her perfume.
Are you crazy?! Close that window!
Yeah, and there's a giraffe there as well.
In the bar?
It's smoking. Outside on the pavement.
Jana, I've got stage fright.
You need a blue book, right?
Have you decided yet?
Let's say... liquid watch for soup,
then this boiled telephone over here,
and then imagination caviar as a side dish.
And wine! The most expensive, please!
What are you waiting for?
Pardon me.
Masturbate!
Rape!
Show me your tits!
I must ask you... I insist that you stop harassing our guests.
Your papers, please!
I fart with gentle caution so I won’t shit myself
Do something!
Get ahead of him!
Stop!
Fuckers!!!
Do you know why you're here?
Here.
According to the police records, you violated public order,
exposed yourself,
offended the investigating officers,
even tried to seduce a member of the police department.
-How old are you? -Are you.
Have you ever been treated before?
Piss.
Excuse me?
If you touch me, I'll scream.
That won't be necessary.
I'll show you some pictures now,
and you'll tell me what you imagine when you see them, okay?
The scent of a mailman.
Hopeless ink.
Pink, no, wait, a cooled seashell.
-Are you sure? -Absolutely.
Sensory perception disorders, endogenous depression,
no respect for authority, emotional instability.
All that in combination with his intelligence.
Is it serious?
You know, your son is only faking his psychotic states.
I assume it's because he wants to get out of serving in the army.
But maybe you could...
You're a former officer, aren't you?
This is a different army, doctor!
Of course.
That's exactly why I can't take the risk, you see.
Goodbye.
I'm worried where I'll be picking you up next time.
Hello.
Hi.
I found out when they were releasing you.
Dad, this is Jana Franková.
My father.
-Pleased to meet you. -Heinz.
I'll visit you tomorrow, sorry.
Let's go.
Goodbye.
Did they buy it?
A poster hangs on my house
of Stalin in a blue coat.
Behind the shop window, I can see a roebuck
What?
and electric pots.
At the butcher's there's Hungarian salami.
It costs a thousand crowns.
Continue.
Had a quarrel with an old woman about some rum.
Got it?
About some rum at a counter in Metro...
she had a hole in her sweater...
You will all see... the film...
You will all see the film "Generous Summer"...
about how they thought...
it wouldn't... go and it goes...
When you capture me, I'm yours.
The postman?
He asked me to give you this.
He died early this morning.
Goodbye.
Don't rush...
What if we lived somewhere else?
Are you going to escape?
It's all I can do.
Where to?
Paris, where else?
Are you coming with me?
We have to prevent Zionist and bourgeois scum
from robbing the working class even under the aegis of socialism
and running up the profits of western wheeler-dealers.
The workers condemn the profiteers and collaborators,
who have found their spokesmen in certain political parties.
Let our reaction show them how all their hopes will collapse,
that our new order, our nationalized industry and our two-year plan...
Put it into the children's...
Sure. Look out!
Are you looking for someone?
That's my son, Mr. Krasa.
I see, sorry.
Come with me.
Close the door, please.
Confiscation decree.
The local party cell meticulously proved that I live here alone.
This is that dictatorship of the proletariat of yours.
You still can think it over.
No. I need it now.
Are you doing it for that boy?
I need a week, maybe more.
You'll pick up the money at my place.
All right.
Let go!
Do you miss me?
Jana...?
What there was, is not there anymore.
We'll get rich in Paris. And look what I found.
I have a contact for a guide.
From who?
Vincent.
What do you say?
Beyond a certain point, there's no way back.
And that point has to be reached.
Kafka.
He doesn't live here anymore.
-Wait. -He moved.
If you find out anything, call me. OK?
Bastard. It looks like he's run.
-Did you sleep with him? -No.
Do you want to say something?
And even if I did I wouldn't tell you.
People are wrong to tell each other the truth at any cost.
What do they want to achieve by that?
That something will change? That they'll help something?
-No! They'll just hurt themselves! -Stop that!
I'm afraid I'm tired
and that tomorrow won't be my day
I'm afraid I'll bring shame on my fate
I'm afraid I'm second to none
At Prague Castle it is written...
SHIT
Come here on Friday morning. I've got more for you.
Thank you.
-Longines? -Omega.
-How much do you want for it? -It's not for sale.
I'll swap then. American cigarettes, tights... smuggled from Vienna.
Think it over. You can get any girl for tights.
Wait, that's for the car.
What are you doing? This was supposed to last us three days!
We're living as if we were going to die tomorrow.
Every respectable person does that.
Whether you stuff yourself now
and then have nothing to eat for a week should be,
from the point of view of your life values, entirely indifferent.
You don't get it, do you?
It's only a matter of time before they arrest us.
I'm keeping out of the army, we're living like parasites.
You should be a seer.
These trifles should mean nothing to you.
But they do!
Rimbaud used to sleep under bridges, he had lice, he starved.
Compared to him your situation is absolutely idyllic.
Comfort kills the passion of the soul, remember that.
How much does the guide want?
Ten thousand.
-For both of us? -For one.
For one?
Shout too, come on!
Do you feel better?
I can sell my earrings.
I'll get around two thousand for them.
We don't have time.
What’s good about this relationship is half good.
What’s bad, it’s completely bad.
And this is a chance.
You thief!
I need an advance.
No. The risk you'll run away is too great.
The normal rate is three thousand per box. It's two for you.
Get off two stops before the main station,
still in the Russian zone.
Leave the rest to me.
If they catch you with that you'll go to prison.
How many have you got?
You can't get more than six in the rucksack.
I can take ten.
On this black one then.
"In memory of" is fine.
Czech and German.
German?
Yes, German.
In stillem Gedenken...
In gold capital letters.
Write it down, okay?
Show it to me.
In stillem Gedenken
-Do you know where my black shoes... -They're over there.
Do you know what that woman, Krasova, told me?
"We’ll be using the bathroom first.
You're retired now so you can sleep longer." Cow.
I need a favor. Can you hide this?
It's a manuscript of a book. They arrested the author.
Throughout the whole war I believed
that when it ended, this would be a better place.
That we would finally be able to breathe freely!
It didn't last long.
Dad... I came in fact to say farewell.
I was afraid it would come to this.
-Where? -France.
You'll need money.
No. I don't want it. I already took enough.
There wasn't much time, Ivan.
There was never time for a proper talk.
I should have taken better care of you.
Nobody could have cared for me better.
Maybe.
Are you going on your own?
Don't worry. I'll manage.
Lots of people have got through.
Czechs sit at their stoves and don't watch the border.
I'll tell you something.
In Russia in 1917... we were waiting
in the prison camp to be put with the other Czechs.
One day a Russian escort arrived.
Their commander ordered
everybody who wanted to join the Czech Legion
to step out from the line.
We stepped out.
The others, mostly Germans and Hungarians, didn't understand
what was going on.
That commander stood in front of one of them,
a boy like you, and repeated his invitation in Russian.
The boy didn't understand, he smiled, embarrassed.
And that commander, a normal guy, nothing special,
shrugged his shoulders and gave the order to shoot.
They shot them all.
Even those few Czechs who didn't want to join the legion.
The next day, we learned
that it was a Czech who commanded that escort.
Those "Czechs at their stoves" can be real bastards!
Remember that.
Juliette? No more starving!
Jana, are you okay?
I'm tired.
I have some food.
I'll never love anyone as much as you.
What?
It sounds so clichéd.
-It wasn't easy to say it. -You're too sensitive.
I am?
-When will you be back? -The day after tomorrow.
We're very close now.
I feel much better now.
-And where are you going? -Bystrice.
I'm going one stop further. Smrcna, do you know it?
Well, of course not. You're not a local.
-And who died there? -I don't know.
I'm sorry, but is there nothing written on that wreath?
Oh yes, here... "In memory of"
Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself.
Emanuel Bonn, I am a messenger from Charon undertakers,
with registered office in Jindrichuv Hradec.
Pleased to meet you.
-Maybe it's for old Urban. -I'm taking it to the vicarage.
Maybe they ordered it for the stores.
Smuggler / undertaker. What a masterpiece!
Wait till I tell this to people.
You're just like Humphrey Bogart.
He's coming with me.
-How much? -Three hundred.
Smile. Christmas has come early.
I need to go back.
The agreement was clear.
Penicillin comes here, tights go back.
You managed the first stage.
But I can't wait.
If you wait you'll get two hundred extra per box.
You want to make money, don't you?
How long?
Let's make this clear.
It's my business, I set the rules.
Did I already tell you about the dental gold?
I did time with a gypsy and...
Spare me this, will you?
For three days I've been listening to your bullshit.
I've had enough!
You know what your problem is? You're disoriented.
You're acting against your best interests.
-We'll be rich. -Fuck off.
How much do you want to use your phone?
Twenty shillings.
The operators report all international calls.
So don't be surprised
if the cops are waiting for you outside your house.
Hurry up!
Maybe you'll change your mind.
Where's Lauko?
They caught him.
-What? -The Russians are at the border.
They're building roadblocks everywhere.
Miss Frankova?
-Name? -Emanuel Bonn.
Louder!
Emannuel Bonn.
Wait.
You're Ivan Heinz, born February 8, 1930?
My real name is Emanuel Bonn! I'm the miracle of modern poetry.
A poet and a Marxist.
I fight against capitalism, fascism
and all petty bourgeois scum!
The sergeant has his ways. You'll have to get used to them.
What were you doing in Austria?
I intended to infiltrate the British secret service
in order to kill the American president!
Stop it!
All I need to carry out my plan, is two matchboxes of fleas
inoculated with the most virulent bacteria.
This simple smokers' kit won't attract any attention.
Fleas can be easily hidden and transported in it.
At the right time, I open the boxes
and release the parasites in the immediate vicinity
of the American president's podium.
The following epidemic
will exterminate not only President Truman
but his whole staff, generals, ministers...
Do you know what's up with Ivan?
My son doesn't confide in me.
Wait!
Can't we go inside? Please!
The doctors thought I wouldn't live. They operated on me twice.
They said I would never have children.
We were supposed to go to Paris as soon as he returns.
Don't take offence, but why should I believe you?
You don't have to.
Do you want to keep it?
Of course.
Do you have anybody who would take care of you? Relatives...
Miss...
I... here you are.
You are going to need sugar now.
I'm here every evening.
So if you need anything...
I can't wait long.
Go!
Forehead to the wall!
You promised you'd be reasonable.
We'll write up a record.
Name?
Ivan Heinz.
-Born? -8.2.1930
-Address? -Hoffmanova 6, Prague 15
Detainee, tell us why you were in the prohibited border zone.
I was...
-I was at... Madame Morain's. -Stop that!
What gives you the right to detain me here?
I'm a sick man!
Where did you get those shillings?
Schillings.
He pissed himself.
Connect me with Prague, quick!
Are you awake? A dreamer who never sleeps.
-Sugar? -No.
I shouldn't either.
They told me I have too much sugar in my blood.
How long have you been with the police?
Two years.
They promoted me recently.
Congratulations. I'm surprised you came in person.
He doesn't look like a guide.
Who knows what he was doing there.
In my opinion he's faking it.
Why do you think so?
Experience. But I never had anyone like him here before.
Yes.
Write.
A report on the interrogation of the detainee Ivan Heinz.
Present persons:
Representative of the State Police, of the 2nd Prague Department,
Karel Zeman, Corporal Persky, my name and rank.
Bring him in.
They say you behave like a psychologically unstable person?
He looked bigger in photographs.
Doctor!
At 14:32 Dr. Hakl is also present.
-Do you know him? -Yes.
Did you treat him?
I'm waiting.
Comrade doctor. I brought you here to confirm or disprove
whether this man was hospitalized at your ward?
He was at my clinic a few months ago.
When exactly?
I don’t know, I’d have to try to remember.
Don't you keep records?
Of course, but...
Just tell us what you told me.
We received him in late October last year.
He claims to have been treated at your clinic.
Can you confirm that?
I suspected advanced paranoid schizophrenia
which was proved during the several days of his stay.
It seems like he had sensory perception disorders.
He is mad.
Manic depressive psychotic.
Will you sign that in the record?
You can go.
Here are your poems.
I thought they were worth a lot to you?
I didn't ask you for anything.
He bit his wrist so he didn't have to bear the beating anymore.
You could have gotten 15 years.
They now think you're not a political case. Thanks to me.
Viktor Lukas wasn't so lucky.
He confessed he was the head
of a massive conspiracy against the republic.
He is said to have even thanked the prosecutor
for the just punishment.
They executed him yesterday.
Do you understand?
A meaningless sacrifice for the benefit of society.
Maybe you want to thank me now,
but you're trying to find the right words.
Stop it!
The times have changed, poet.
People like you are out of fashion.
You should admit that at last.
Heinz, you are trying it, aren't you?
Let's go.
Get moving!
-We're running out... -At last.
What's new?
As usual... A celebration of labor, a happy future,
arrests, death sentences...
I typed out Lukas' manuscript for you.
Thank you.
You're in a good mood.
You got some mail.
-Good news? -I’d say yes.
You've got a son. His name is Ivan.
Give my best regards to your dad, tell him I thank him once again.
P.S. This was the most banal postcard I could find.
-Have you read it? -I think so, yes.
You read my mail?
There's no hell.
But people are stupid, they'll always create one.
And when they're up to their necks in shit
they again long for God,
for force majeure, for reconciliation.
But fuck them all!
I think reconciliation is not anything we should arrive at.
It's necessary to rebel.
Against God or hell.
To go one's own way.