Downloaded from MY-SUBS.MX
Official MY-SUBS movies site: MY-SUBS.MX
I hate melancholic girls.
All melancholic girls do.
They wonder: How did I get to be all I never wanted to be?
Yet the answer is clear.
I mean, just look at me.
Do you believe, looking like this one could become anything else?
One can't take pity on melancholic girls,
because they don't take pity on themselves.
See? That's the problem.
For example, if this were a film...
we'd already lose all those who need to identify with the protagonist.
In a film, something always has to happen.
Nothing ever happens to melancholic girls.
I mean, they wander around,
they talk, they have sex.
But the crucial event,
the catastrophe, has always already happened.
Now there's just inertia.
There are no climaxes.
No development.
No catharsis.
They don't become better people.
They don't move from A to B.
They don't jump off the roof.
One can learn nothing from them.
Except about the time and place
mirrored within them.
Because that is all they do:
They spend time in various places.
And then, at some point
the film is over,
just like that.
Are you asleep?
The way you're standing there in your coat, I'll never forget that.
Oh, I think you will.
AREN'T YOU HAPPY?
EPISODE 1 FEMINISM FOR SALE
I'll give you some music now and you'll move sexily.
Got it?
Make moves on each other. Make it sexier.
Okay.
Now the short one, you go first.
The camera is your mirror.
You apply make-up.
Yes, that's it.
Re-do your eyes.
Yes. Now:
Give yourself a flirty grin in the mirror.
Looking good.
Cheekier, sexier.
And now you giggle!
Okay, louder, and now burst into laughter.
Thanks. Now you.
The same again.
Look into the camera as if applying make-up.
Touch-up your lipstick.
Now you check your make-up,
you wink at yourself. Sexy!
And you have to giggle.
Giggle!
Laugh more loudly.
Yes. Thanks. Cut. Let's stay with you.
Know your lines?
So let's have your version.
The client wants it as real and natural as possible.
Got it?
Hey, you! Yes, it's me.
Your wife.
Now listen to me.
I no longer want to be your counterpart, or your better half
or a better version of you.
I no longer want to have the choice between saint and whore.
I want to be witch and girl,
bitch and lover, child and mother, sinner and saint,
and all at the same time,
because I'm every woman.
And I never again want to be asked
if I prefer the left or the right-hand side of the bed.
I want to be asked how I like it.
And if I say no, there are no
blurred lines.
But when I say yes, it means:
Yes! I want it! Because...
I'm every woman.
The new online store.
Okay. You're done. Now your turn.
Hey, you! Yes, it's me.
Your wife.
Now listen.
I don't want to be your counterpart,
your better half,
or a better version of you.
I no longer want to have the choice
between saint
and whore.
I want to be witch and girl.
Bitch and lover.
Child and mother.
Sinner and saint.
And all at the same time.
Because I'm every woman.
Could I get a happy version?
Or aren't you happy?
Sure, I'm happy.
Okay.
Then do it again happy, please.
Hey, you!
Yes, it's me. Your wife.
Now listen.
EPISODE 2
THE LONGING FOR RELIGION IN DISENCHANTED PLACES
One, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight...
And kiss.
And now we come to our final blessing.
Do join in!
But I don't have a baby.
Your birth
is my birth
You live through me
and I live through you
Your birth has changed everything.
Because of you I am a mother.
I feel the power of all mothers,
the power of Mother Earth,
and I am a strong, independent woman,
who can achieve everything.
Your birth...
Welcome to the new Biedermeier era.
Come on, it's not that bad.
It's worse.
You live through me
and I live through you.
Now I know what baby envy is.
It's interesting, the kind of looks one gets.
- He suits you, anyway. - Thanks.
Seriously, you should have one, too.
It'd instantly cure your narcissism.
I tell you, nothing grounds you like a baby.
- Back to nature? - You're laughing.
It's pure fear.
Of what?
Children are the end of boredom.
The little one is the first truly compelling event in my life.
Whatever works, eh?
I hope I never have a baby out of boredom.
Why else would you have one?
To feed you?
To train it as a terrorist.
I recently saw a film by Helke Sander.
The women in it were more emancipated,
less oppressed and somehow not as bloodless as we are.
What do you mean?
Say, can I sleep over at yours?
I have no home at the moment.
It's not convenient.
The little one already messes up our routines.
In a few weeks, when things have settled down.
Okay?
EPISODE 3
THE DAWN OF UTOPIA
Can you feel it coming?
Like a train
beginning to jerk.
The transition is
always difficult.
Are y'all
freezing too?
I love this weariness.
Can you feel the borders
dissolving?
As if one becomes less.
Layer
for layer,
one ceases to function.
This hand
doesn't belong to me.
That can't possibly be.
Do you think
we can
let go?
Do you believe a better world is yet to come?
There won't be bodies anymore.
Our heads will have burst
from the velocity.
I read that there will soon be
a pill against feelings.
Humanity will consist of psychopaths.
They will be cold and happy.
Why is it so difficult
to dream something beautiful?
We have lost imagination.
But when?
In sleep.
EPISODE 4
THE VIOLENCE OF LOVE TALES
Will you do me a favour?
Will you shave my legs?
I'll do anything for you.
I'm scared of hurting you.
You can't.
That's a four-blade razor
with triple-protection.
Why did you come with me?
I needed a place to stay.
- That wasn't a joke? - I never joke.
So... what do you do?
- I get my legs shaved. - And in real life?
I'm writing a book.
But I can't get past the 1st sentence of the 2nd chapter.
- What's the sentence? - That was the sentence.
- It's brilliant. - It's a crisis.
If I read your name on a poster one day,
I will think: I knew her.
You hurt me.
Sorry! That was an accident.
And why me?
You were my man of the evening.
I always decide on a man of the evening.
And what are your criteria?
Beauty,
innocence,
coolness.
Don't you even want to know why I took you?
Well? Why?
Curiosity.
- I wanted to check out your breasts. - And?
I like them.
Is that all?
Like the breasts of a French actress
or of a Greek goddess.
- Small and perky. - Oh, a poet.
Why does your mouth only spew irony?
It's not irony. It's cynicism.
What's the difference?
Ironists take nothing seriously. Cynics are disillusioned romantics.
What am I?
- You're too young to be disillusioned. - I know everything I need to know.
So, what do you know?
Better an awkward morning than a night of loneliness.
That's just a quote.
- You quote, too. - I quote myself. That's different.
Sing something for me.
- What? - Sing me a children's song.
A little sailor
sailed round the earth.
He loved
a girl
who had nothing of worth.
The girl had to die,
and who was to blame?
The little sailor
in his foolish...
Oh, a spider.
Are you superstitious at all?
It is, despite everything, a living creature.
Now it's your turn.
Once a boy a Rosebud spied,
Heathrose fair and tender,
All array'd in youthful pride,
- Quickly to the... - Don't be silly.
I really like you.
You don't know me at all.
I see you.
You only see the surface I hold before you.
- That's enough for me. - See? That's my problem.
- What? - I want to be loved.
But all I get is admiration.
Perhaps you go for the wrong ones.
That has occurred to me.
I can't do anything right, can I?
You can wash my hair.
That's better than nothing.
Don't you even want to know what I do?
You wash my hair.
Sorry, that was a joke.
- What? - Everything.
Isn't that sad?
- What? - Well, this.
Us.
You're there and I'm here.
One goes in empty-handed
and comes out with even emptier hands.
- Why do we do it? - Because we can.
Is it really that easy?
It could be different.
- How? - I don't know. Like this?
This isn't working. I'm stepping on your toes.
We aren't made for each other.
- What shall we do, then? - What we were taught.
- I'm just a fool to you, right? - You're a puppy.
You'd be a good prostitute.
You're so tender.
I pity men.
I pity you.
- That's a good starting point. - For what?
For never meeting again.
EPISODE 5
OBJECTS OF DESIRE
Hello.
What are you doing here?
I am standing around decoratively.
Somebody told me I was good at it.
You are humorous.
I never joke.
Excuse me, I am bad at this.
At what?
I prefer not to be more precise.
We could have a conversation.
With pleasure, about what?
Accelerationism is a popular topic now,
or web series, or the refugee crisis.
But with that, it is difficult to find the right tone.
Perhaps we could get something to drink first.
What do we want to converse about?
I don't know.
Can I sleep at your place?
If this is about sex, I have to disappoint you.
I don't care about sex.
I have no home at the moment.
In that case, you can gladly come with me.
If you like.
EPISODE 6
POST-EROTIC TIMES
Do you have anything to eat?
I am sorry, this apartment is decorative rather than functional.
I always eat out.
A little neurosis.
Never mind.
What is your problem with... sex?
Oh, that is a long story.
I have time.
Back then, I had a lot of sex.
Do you like Bataille?
I was absorbed by the concept of excess and transgression.
I was convinced it was the only possibility
to sincerely encounter somebody away from the markets.
Then I was gay for a time.
Now I rarely have sex anymore.
I have to say, I am bored by it.
The professionalism
with which we do it.
It somehow saddens me.
I am the most sad
when the boy makes a tidy knot in the condom
and puts it in the bin.
The perfect allegory.
What about you and sex?
My body is a war zone
where the entire world stages its battles.
It is owned by everybody else much more than by me,
so I can leave it for free usage anyways.
The doubtful privilege of beauty.
I am instantly relaxed knowing we won't sleep with each other.
Yes, me too.
- One could almost be tempted again. - Yes.
But I have made a resolution to take better care of myself.
Too many unprocessed experiences will take their revenge.
Yes.
At age 30, depression strikes.
We could have a cup of tea instead
and watch a Woody Allen film.
Good idea.
Would you prefer the left or the right-hand side?
EPISODE 7
DANCING SIMULATION
I am so bored.
I float through life like a fish
Everything slips past me, untouched
I hear myself speak
and wonder: Hello, who is there?
I only have to sing a song or two
And the whole world's dancing to my tune
Like playing ping-pong
In an infinite loop
And all doors are wide open
And I always find my way
I haven't met anyone lately
Asking why I do what I do
And everything feels the same
And I watch myself
And my laughter sounds so strange
And where the hell are you?
I just consumed you
That happens from time to time
Sorry, my life is more exciting than yours
Let's just face it
I simulate self-confidence
And everyone stares at me
And I know as long as they stare
I can't stop
I imitate myself
EPISODE 8
THE ASHES OF PSYCHOLOGY
I dreamt last night
that I won a literature prize.
The German Banks' Newcomer Prize.
I sat on a podium
when the laudatory speech was held.
I remember every word of it.
"'A fluffy Berlin story',
one would think after reading the first pages of her novel 'Yeah, Yeah'.
Young women drink latte macchiato,
go to therapy,
have pseudo-intellectual conversations in art exhibitions
and meet their lovers.
Reduced to its reflecting surface, the literary debut
by the 30-year-old, delicate Berliner
is the chilly portrait of a lost generation
for which neither their parents' idealism
nor their grandparents' pragmatism is an option.
They face the pressure to be happy no matter what
with pretentious cynicism
and quotes from songs and films.
In its partly vain exhibitionism,
which is more than a narcissistic pose,
the text is highly contemporary,
even explosive.
A debut, cute like a rubber ducky
and evil like Jack the Ripper."
What comes to your mind?
It is not only the most brilliant thing that I've written these last months
but also the only thing.
And that while dreaming.
Why do you think you can't write right now?
I am bored by it.
In the tyranny of self-realisation, everyone is an artist.
That's why the spirit of revolution retired from art.
So, you deny yourself the right to individual self-realisation?
If you want to frame it like that.
But what if you just look at all this a little less ideologically?
Maybe, hidden behind your political attitude,
is really a refusal to get somewhere in your life.
If you really believe that, I would have to assume
that you're mainly interested in reconverting me
into a functioning part of society.
So, don't you believe you can
find your own individual happiness in this society?
I don't even know
if I believe in individuality.
And I don't know
if I want to be happy.
When you talk like this, I wonder sometimes
why you actually come here.
I wonder, too.
EPISODE 9
THE MARKET OF ROMANCE
Honey, why are you sitting here all alone?
I am waiting.
For your prince?
That might take a while.
I am waiting for the end of capitalism.
Then I'll wait with you.
- Do you smoke? - Sometimes.
Do you have a boyfriend, honey?
I have boys and I have friends, but I don't have a boyfriend.
You are funny.
Vasilis, could you come here?
You have to meet my friend. She's hilarious.
- Hi! - Sorry.
I have to pee.
- Did he bother you? - Not at all.
- Do I bother you? - We'll see.
You seem very cold. Kind of stiff.
I guess you never really have great sex because you won't be able to relax.
- Am I right? - What do you want?
You know that I am a DJ. I'm producing an album.
But only with the sound I recorded during sex.
I got one track left. Do you want to be on this last track?
Can I stay until tomorrow?
As long as you want.
EPISODE 10
NEW TOURISM TAKES PLACE IN BEDS
Listen, girl. I wrote a song for you. Especially for you.
Hey, girl, why are you so sad?
It's a structural depression.
I am unhappy
so that people like you may be happy.
Do you think I should rather have a baby or cut my hair and become fat?
Why?
So I will be taken seriously before I turn 50.
You are great.
Do you like it here?
It's a fucking camp ground.
Everybody comes here, dumps their waste,
and leaves again.
What?
Sorry,
I thought for a moment you were somebody else.
But I am also a collective woman
and someone else every night.
So why shouldn't you be someone else every night?
And somehow, we're all alike, aren't we?
I'm bored to death.
I have to go.
EPISODE 11
ONCE UPON A TIME...
Are you Blacky?
No.
Fips?
Homer?
Struppi?
Wolli?
Then you're Henri, okay?
I've been waiting for you.
Oh, really?
Why?
Is that forbidden?
No.
I'm not your type.
You are a 10, and I am at best a 3.
Not as sexy as that Greek fellow up there.
Oh, well.
I'm not even really a construction worker.
Oh, well. What are you, then?
Sometimes I am a pizza chef,
sometimes a paperboy,
sometimes a beekeeper.
Actually, I'm a philosopher.
An unemployed philosopher.
And a schmuck.
Inwardly and outwardly a bit desolate, as you can see.
And you?
I'm a witch.
That's what I thought.
First, I thought you were
a fortress waiting to be stormed.
But now I see
that you're a war machine.
You destroy men and hopes, right?
Exactly.
Coming?
To do what?
To eat something, for instance. Or read a book.
Or dance on the roof.
I have a dog now.
What's his name?
Henri. I just found him.
Okay, Henri.
You can come, too.
Come on.
Come on!
I wasn't expecting you.
We can have pasta.
Pasta with nothing
or pasta with garlic.
Pasta with nothing sounds good.
I just realized I feel hungry.
Do you feel like screaming?
- Do I look like I do? - To be honest, yes.
To be honest, I'm not sure if I can scream.
I am a good teacher. Come on.
Opposite me.
Arms up. Like boxing.
Bob and weave. And now watch out.
Careful.
Now I scream.
Your turn.
Once again.
Mannometer!
Does anyone still use that word? I learned it back in the 80s.
Finished!
I was wrong.
You're not a war machine.
You are a fortress waiting to be stormed.
I am a house with open doors.
When I open my mouth
you can see my innermost being.
You probably think
it looks bad in there,
but I have to disappoint you:
Average and healthy.
You needn't tell me anything about yourself.
I know you are as broken as me.
We could look after each other.
If we were together, I'd have to judge you and your acts.
I'd have to tell you that you're a poor, fat, old man,
and I'd have to say it with bitterness, not tenderly.
That's just an excuse.
We want to remain lost,
therefore we cannot be together.
If we were together,
we would no longer be lost.
You want to remain lost.
I don't.
Maybe.
I have to go.
But you can sleep on the couch if you want.
No. Thanks.
But you haven't eaten anything yet.
EPISODE 12
SOFT ASSAULT DURING COFFEE BREAK
May I sit down briefly?
Yes.
What are you writing?
I'm writing a book.
But I can't get past the 1st sentence of the 2nd chapter.
And what now?
Let's say,
I'm intensively engaging with my non-writing.
I stopped making art.
Oh, really?
Eight years ago.
I kept repeating myself.
Until I met my master.
Your... master?
"Yoga of the Voice".
Has anyone told you
you radiate great inner calm?
That's an optical illusion. Inside, there's a war raging.
Yoga of the Voice
is a sort of manual.
Use your presence, your awareness,
to concentrate on the question: Who am I?
I've never concentrated on anything else.
What you're talking about is just biography, a stream of emotions.
Commonly known as one's personality.
That is exactly what you overcome via meditation.
You just listen to the heating,
liberate yourself from emotion and experience,
and concentrate on the question:
Who is listening? Who is perceiving?
I'm sure you understand me.
You radiate an absorbing calm.
That's just my inner void.
The inner void.
Exactly.
I'm not so sure.
The acceleration of capital degrades us into left-behinds
and we seek refuge in mystic self-oblivion
just to better function again tomorrow as even happier self-exploiters.
Sorry, today is my pessimist day.
You shouldn't talk to me.
I didn't want to sadden you.
Never mind.
You'd better go now.
My sadness might be contagious.
So you won't join me for Yoga of the Voice?
No. And you know what? I'll pay now.
EPISODE 13
PROMISES OF FREEDOM
There are no more buses tonight.
Maybe I'm not waiting for a bus.
What are you waiting for then?
For Godot. For my life to start.
For the night, for a text, or for you: Pick one.
Who are you?
The girl standing at the bus stop.
You are funny.
I never joke.
So you're not Annika?
Do you have a date?
Well...
That's funny.
So what do we do now?
Maybe she'll show up.
Yes.
So, what do you do?
I'm a carpenter.
That's nice.
So down to earth.
Working with your hands.
Are you making fun of me?
I take pleasure in you.
Do you want to be invited for a drink?
Most women want to pay for their own nowadays.
I'd prefer a bed.
What?
I'd prefer a bed.
You're blunt.
We don't have time.
- Why? - We're growing old.
We're still young, wild and free.
We have the freedom
to choose between beer and wine.
You have the freedom
to take me with you,
and I have the freedom
to let myself be taken.
We have the freedom or the duty to sleep with each other.
Why?
Because we're so young and wild.
You're really funny.
I live right back there. In case you were serious...
Why the look?
It always makes me so sad.
What?
Our professionalism.
But you are not a... Are you?
Don't worry.
I don't take money.
Why did you sleep with me?
Because I'm so free.
I think
I don't get your humour.
The only freedom that I really have
is to fake an orgasm for you.
So,
did you?
Keeping the secret to myself is part of the freedom.
You're mean.
Oh you poor, poor man.
Don't you worry.
It was a good performance.
Those are from my ex-girlfriend.
You have an ex-girlfriend with taste.
Thanks.
"I stand at the window until my breasts feel cold.
Then I close the shutters.
I sit before a sheet of paper.
I drink Moscato Frizzante.
There is nothing, I think,
nothing but the performance,
nothing but the game.
Tomorrow, I want to be called Monika, or Mara,
and I want to be happy.
I blow a snowflake off the back of my hand."
Sentimental garbage.
"With every movement, Malte lets out high-pitched, articulated moans,
his movements expressing a well-considered eroticism.
He attends to her pussy with dedication,
as if he were stirring risotto.
Eventually, Lore refused the artificial gymnastics
and just laid there in bed motionless,
while Malte was tending to her with the most beautiful efforts.
She politely came every time and then let him cum inside her
or worked his clean, small, well-proportioned dick mechanically,
always with Malte's shrill cries in the background."
"By qualifying the young and the women
with an absurd surplus value,
by turning them into the exclusive holders
of the new esoteric forms of knowledge,
consumption and seduction,
the Spectacle has liberated the slaves of the past,
but it has liberated them as slaves."
Look, a book about me.
"Just as there isn't chastity for the young girl,
there isn't excess for her either.
The young girl simply lives as a stranger among her desires,
whose consistency is governed by their Market-Super-Ego.
The boredom of abstraction flows in the act of fucking."
You really are a curious one.
Like a very exotic kind of ice cream.
You can only stand a single scoop.
I'm going to write that in my notebook, okay?
In my list "Things men have said about me".
Are you a writer?
Something like that.
So, will I appear in a book now?
- Would you want that? - Everybody does.
I'll see what I can do.
EPISODE 14
AN ODE TO SOCIETY
Are you still doing that
therapy?
Yes.
And?
I've started regarding my depression as a political issue.
What does that mean?
It's not a personal failure, but a structural problem.
I am unhappy so that people like you may be happy.
Oh, come on.
I don't get this archaic impulse to rebel.
Ever since I can think
I've been raised to critique and rebel.
The society one could blame no longer exists.
There is no exterior anymore.
That's why I wage war against myself.
That's childish.
We can be anything, really.
Gays are no longer persecuted in this country.
We live in an pluralist, open society.
That's why you're discontent.
The responsible citizen is always discontent.
In this sense, your depression is a sign of luxury.
You have to look at it that way.
Where are we actually going?
There's this new ice-cream parlour.
While I wait, I can comfort my sore soul with some consumption.
You're developing a sense of humour. It suits you.
- What are you waiting for? - Anger.
And what are you all waiting for?
Fourth floor.
AREN'T YOU HAPPY