Bloodsuckers - A Marxist Vampire Comedy (2021) Movie Script

Today we're going to discuss

chapter eight.

It deals with the working day.

Have you read it?

I didn't have time.

The others?

Good.

Now for the first paragraph.

Marx reviews the basics

of selling labor-power.

Can anyone explain?

Excuse me.

There's something I don't understand.

But it's about paragraph five.

Can't it wait?

It's pretty urgent.

Okay, read the passage out loud.

Marx writes...

I'll start a bit earlier.

"The capitalist has bought

the labor-power at its day-rate.

"He has acquired the right

to make the laborer

"work for him during one day.

"But what is a working day?

"The capitalist has his own views

"on the limit

of the working day.

"As a capitalist,

he is only personi-

"capital personified.

"But capital has

one single life impulse:

"to absorb the greatest possible amount

of surplus-value.

"Capital is dead labor that,

vampire-like..."

And this is the point.

"...that, vampire-like, only lives

"by sucking living labor,

"and lives the more,

the more labor it sucks."

I'll skip down a bit.

Here it says,

"The prolongation of the working day

into the night

"only slightly quenches

"the vampire thirst

for the living blood of labor."

And then, in the footnotes it says:

"In fact, the vampire will not

let go as long as there's a muscle,

"a nerve, a drop of blood

to be exploited."

Interesting passage.

What didn't you understand?

Is the capitalist really a vampire?

I mean our vampire. The real one.

Who flies around at night.

Is it Miss Flambow-Jansen?

Bruno, it's just a comparison.

Schnösl is right.

The capitalist acts

like a vampire

in the sense that he "sucks"

labor-power from the laborer

to produce surplus-value.

It's only meant metaphorically.

To describe this structure

he uses an image,

albeit an unfortunate one.

But Marx explicitly says

that the capitalist sucks blood.

BLOODSUCKERS

On a Tuesday in August, 1928...

Excuse me, Miss Octavia,

but wouldn't it be advisable

to turn back?

- Stop calling me "Miss."

- As you wish.

Give that gentlemen my card.

But what if it's him?

Enough of that peasant gossip!

And who will hold your parasol?

Tell the gentleman to come at once.

I shall inform him.

1. A GUEST FROM

THE CLASSLESS SOCIETY

Miss, will you find time to look

at the Oklahoma Investment offer?

I could send

an overseas telegram tomorrow.

Will you please stop

calling me "Miss"!

I'm sorry.

I'm not accustomed to it yet.

He surely fled

from the Communist camps in Siberia.

What do you think?

He has yet to broach the topic.

Do you think a baron would entrust

such confidences to a simple employee?

That would indeed be a contradiction.

Baron Kobersky!

I'm overjoyed

that you've come to pay me a visit.

But how did you find your way?

You even brought champagne.

Oh, you shouldn't have!

I had a premonition,

and went hunting for you.

Your vegetarianism is to blame.

They think you're walking lettuce.

You'll have to overlook

my assistant's lack of dexterity.

But I'm still too much the daughter

of a Protestant industrialist

to feel comfortable hiring staff

at aristocratic quantities.

You're used to a different standard

from St. Petersburg, I imagine?

Actually, we don't have

servants anymore.

What do you mean?

Because of the Revolution.

How silly of me!

I only know revolutions

from newspapers.

But tell me, Baron.

I'm so terribly curious.

Are pretty daughters of industrialists

being guillotined in public?

Like the court ladies

in Paris once were?

Not exactly.

Where are my manners?

I'm surely stirring up

unpleasant memories.

No.

For one, St. Petersburg

is now called Leningrad.

Leningrad?

See, Jakob?

That's how it is now!

Strangle me in my sleep,

and they may name the town after you.

But all jokes aside,

I guess many abominations

are being committed in that Lenin...

I shudder to speak

that hideous word.

Leningrad.

It almost sounds poetic

when you say it in that beautiful voice.

Over there, you'd have to share this

house with seven lumberjack families.

Appalling!

But why lumberjacks?

Just an example.

You're a true man of letters, Baron.

A regular Count Tolstoy!

I can see them,

those grim axe-wielders,

chopping down my conservatory.

Although I must admit how thrilling

contemporary Russian painting is.

See that one?

Now tell me,

what is your personal opinion

of these Communists?

I hate them.

With what passion you suddenly speak!

Do you like the model?

It's a design for a new house.

I'm suffocating

in this imperial doll house.

There's not even a telephone.

But the house is very beautiful.

You certainly are a man

from centuries past, Baron.

I bet you still send love letters

by homing pigeon.

Are you very shocked by my

somewhat American manners?

Sharing your table with a servant

is indeed a bit unusual.

But Jakob isn't a servant!

He's my personal assistant!

I even told him to stop calling me "Miss."

What do you say to that?

- You're nearly a Bolshevik.

- On the contrary.

You just don't understand

our democracy.

But that's enough of politics.

Tell me about your passions.

I like to collect mushrooms.

Mushrooms?

I'm nearly in love with you, Baron.

I forbid you to stay at a hotel.

Don't misunderstand me, but...

The guest room is ready.

It's a fait accompli.

Stop resisting fate and...

offer me a glass

of your champagne instead.

Trouble sleeping, Baron?

It's the sea air.

You have to get used to it.

I was just looking

for something to read.

Jakob, why didn't you put anything

to read on the Baron's nightstand?

You are a strange baron, though.

You don't know how to eat snails,

nor can you tell a champagne flute

from a martini glass.

He's not a vampire.

I can see his reflection.

Simpleton!

Now tell me

who you really are and what you're

doing in my office by candlelight.

And don't you dare bore me.

My name is

Anton Inokentovich Petushkin.

But they call me Lyovochka.

Cut! Ten minute break!

I was given the nickname

by the film director Eisenstein.

Listen, Sergei,

we could film the apple trees.

Apples?

Nonsense!

Let's film the lions.

Thank you.

Give me that flag.

What do you think of Eisenstein?

I prefer working with Vertov.

Why is this flag lying around?

Sorry, comrade cameraman.

And what about Pudovkin?

I'd rather work with Kuleshov.

Dovzhenko?

He's great!

Damn!

Lyovochka, you idiot!

You're a stain on OCTOBER!

Lyovochka is the diminutive of Leon.

In Eisenstein's film OCTOBER

I played the hero of the Revolution

Leon Trotsky.

Eighty minutes until sundown.

Fog.

Fog!

Excuse me, comrade director.

The fog machine is on strike.

Sabotage!

Quiet on the set!

Places, everybody.

One, two,

blow!

It was the best time of my life.

Hi, Lyovochka.

Hi. Lyovochka.

Hi, kids.

- How's it going?

- Great.

I was a person of great respect

and moved

in the highest social circles.

He went through this door

right in front of my bicolored eyes.

Shortly before the premier

a rumor circulated

that Stalin himself

had come to the studio

to visit Eisenstein

in the editing room.

I was as proud as an engineer.

After the premier,

I was going to propose to Yevka.

During the premier I discovered

there was no trace of me

in the final version of OCTOBER.

I didn't know that Trotsky had fallen

into disfavor with Stalin

and had to be cut out

of the film completely.

Naturally, Yevka could no longer

afford to be acquainted with me.

And things got hard in general.

Hide, it's Lyovochka!

No one would hire me anymore.

And my landlady claimed

that the political police

had already asked about me.

I'd say he's the Baron of Lies.

And he didn't even mention

his attempt at attempted robbery.

I'd like to try my luck in Hollywood.

But the proof of my acting skills

has been destroyed.

I have nothing to show.

I've saved nearly enough

to book passage on a ship.

But I still need money

for film footage.

I have to shoot some scenes to show

the studio bosses how talented I am.

So for a few film clips

you sneak around my house

like a chicken thief?

I'll give you the money.

But now it's time for bed.

Good morning.

What are you doing?

The algae ash contains iodine.

I'm making an ointment out of it.

It's good for bites of all kinds.

Bites?

Come on, you Chink,

give us the ointment.

But of course, gentlemen.

It costs 30 cents. Here.

Goodbye.

Why did they spit on your algae?

They're workers

from the cosmetics factory.

Seems I'm ruining the price

of the factory's ointment.

And that has an effect on their pay.

Then why do they buy from you?

Because at the end of the month

the factory ointment

is still too expensive for them.

I walked by that factory yesterday.

Who owns it?

The director is Dr. Humburg,

the mayor.

But he's not

the majority shareholder.

That's the beautiful

Miss Octavia Flambow-Jansen.

Come in, sir.

Discover our wide selection of products.

Thanks. Not today.

Come in, gentlemen.

Discover our wide selection of products.

CHARITY BALL

FOR CHINESE FLEA VICTIMS

Hey, you!

Are you done with that paper?

I only smoke the best.

Do ships for America sail from here?

Yes, from here to Oslo

and then on to New York.

You can buy tickets from me.

I'll give you a special price.

Real cheap.

How much is a third-class ticket?

You lack all class consciousness,

you dandy.

I have second class tickets

for the price of fifth.

450 marks.

But the ship leaves in two weeks.

Little Klaus thanks you.

But you have an exit permit, right?

Exit permit?

Lots of people want

to hightail it out of here,

but for once,

the cops have the jump

on innocent folks like us.

You need a stamp,

or you won't make it very far.

Miss Octavia!

Miss Octavia, it's late.

Idiot!

Nebuchadnezzar!

Stop picking on poor Jakob!

Moron!

Is the farmer's fat turkey

still in love with you?

It's peculiar.

In real life so unremarkable

but with an almost magnetic effect

on poultry.

Moron!

"Brussels, August 7.

"On the cash market,

electricity stocks,

"metallurgical

and textiles securities,

"and 'produits chimiques'

were stable.

"Bank shares

of colonial goods were erratic.

"Stocks in the coal sector

and transport companies were strong.

"On the futures market,

Canadian had a poor showing..."

Is our fake baron awake already?

Our guest has pretty ice-blue eyes.

You have to give him that.

If I may, doesn't Miss think...

Sorry, don't you think

it might be somewhat unwise

to shelter a film artist?

Don't be so small-minded.

He's a very charming man.

And yet, his drawbacks include

a false identity

and an attempted robbery.

In addition, he himself admitted

to being a foreigner.

You just lack literary education.

So you can't understand people

and the hidden workings of the heart.

I just don't get it.

Where were you registered until now?

In Moscow.

I'm just passing through.

Well, that doesn't help much.

Do you at least have a clearance

certificate from a German tax office?

No.

"No," he says!

You're a tough nut to crack.

What now?

What if you're trying to evade taxes?

Ever thought about that?

I'm just passing through.

- Not on my watch!

- On my watch? No way!

I bought a ticket.

That's your own personal affair.

Hammer and sickle, eh?

Actually, this is a case

only Mayor Humburg can decide.

My hands are tied.

When can I talk to him?

Listen here!

That good man has no time

for such trifles.

- Dr. Humburg?

- No!

Get on, Baron.

We're going to the beach.

Officer!

Would you take his suitcase

to my house?

It would be a big help.

Of course, Miss Octavia.

We're always glad to help,

wherever I can.

May I?

That's nice of you.

Get on, Baron.

The beach is melancholic in summer,

don't you think?

Melancholic?

I'm reading a book.

A woman comes out of the water,

and she's just a dot at first.

Then she comes closer

and you look in her eyes.

But she doesn't get any clearer.

You imagine whole worlds

she could contain,

and you're nearly in love already.

Then you think

maybe there's nothing there.

A black hole.

But as an artist,

you surely know better than I.

An actor must be able to read

people's souls as clearly as his own.

Eisenstein, the director,

didn't like a psychological approach.

He always said things like,

"Look how the tsar's crown glitters."

That's the historical

materialist approach.

That's just what I mean.

Things sparkle mysteriously at first.

But in the end

they're as hollow as turnips.

Turnips aren't hollow.

My God, your historical materialism

is a real plague!

You're sitting on a beach

with a romantic young woman

and you can't think

of anything better to do

than irritate me

with your botanical sophistry?

Fresh french fries!

But perhaps it's precisely that

prosaic nature that intrigues me?

On the other hand,

you're a true adventurer.

I just can't figure you out.

Don't you feel a little melancholic

when you look out at the waves?

And then these morons

drown your most melancholic melancholy

in their French fry oil.

Although one almost envies

their carefree nature.

Workers have cares too.

Sure, they get upset

when the milk goes sour.

Yet their world is the assembly line.

They never look past their own noses.

They know how to use their hands,

but the big picture...

Pardon my proletarian language,

but they don't give a shit about it.

But I'm talking nonsense.

And I didn't even smoke anything today.

Shall we go to the water?

Damn it!

I can't stand the sight of blood.

She thinks you're my husband, Baron.

My motorcycle!

Well, Baron,

we'll have to go home on foot.

You should notify the police.

Let's not let such a trifle

ruin the mood.

I was going to buy a new one anyway.

Let's take those bikes.

What a beautiful forest.

The problem is

it grows so slowly.

I may sell it.

The forest is yours?

A third of it.

We're experimenting in the lab

with synthetic wood, but...

Now I'm the one being prosaic.

Tell me a bit about yourself.

I know so little about you.

Such as...

How did you become an actor?

That would necessitate

a long story.

And where did you learn

to speak so peculiarly?

"That would necessitate..."

No one talks like that.

Isn't it impolite

to indulge in shameless sleepwalking

with a lady present?

I was a thief once too.

In the spring of 1925

I moved to Moscow

because working on the kolkhoz

was too strenuous for me.

But it was not easy to find

a dignified occupation there either.

For the Revolution had forgotten

to abolish wage labor.

So I looked for other ways

to make money.

One day I saw a student

in Gorky Park

lost in a book.

Next to her was a German compass.

It would bring a good price

on the black market,

as there was a shortage

of compasses back then.

When I passed by the bench

an hour later

the student was still there,

crying bitterly.

The sight stung my heart.

What's wrong, comrade?

A thief stole my compass.

And tomorrow I have a hydraulics exam.

I was very ashamed.

And she was very pretty.

Fortunately,

a magpie crowed just then.

Don't worry.

That naughty bird probably pilfered

your compass.

A bird?

Sure. Don't you read fairy tales?

The magpie takes

everything that glitters to its nest.

Do you mind if I take a look?

Yevka's real name was Helene,

and she was German.

Out of enthusiasm for the Revolution,

she had come to Moscow to study.

At night she'd read me Karl Marx

in the original

and I learned her language.

"The labor necessitated

for the production of the cotton,

"the raw material of the yarn,

"is part of the labor necessitated

to produce yarn,

"and is therefore contained

in the yarn.

"The same applies to the labor

"necessitated to produce

the spindle..."

Hey love birds, other comrades

are trying to get some sleep!

Now I've become a little jealous

of your pretty Yevka.

And I still don't know

how you became an artist.

As I said, that would necessitate

a long story.

Good evening.

Jakob!

When you're done,

please make up the rooms.

And don't forget to give

our sleepless Baron a book.

Certainly.

Have you read Proust, Baron?

Maybe not.

The book is on my ottoman, Jakob.

It's spelled P-R-O-U-S-T.

As you wish, Miss Octavia.

I forbid him to use "Miss," to raise

our collaboration to an American level,

but the gentleman refuses.

Let him have his way.

But you won't insist

on calling me "Miss," will you?

Call me Lyovochka.

Back to your story, Lyovochka.

If we'd been clever, we both

could've lived on Yevka's scholarship.

But unfortunately it turned out

that she really loved workers.

Above all, factory workers.

The work was tedious and poorly paid,

but I had developed a technique

for pulling rotten teeth

using the punch press.

It gave me extra income.

And that enabled me

to give Yevka romantic gifts.

Thank you.

But the work wore me out.

I grew irritable,

and Yevka and I fought frequently.

Until one day the director Eisenstein

visited the factory.

Would this be a good film location,

comrade director?

As fate would have it,

Eisenstein was suffering

from a terrible toothache that day.

You remind me of someone...

That's how I discovered

the most beautiful thing in life:

the long breaks between shooting.

While the set is being changed for hours

there is nothing to do

and you can just let

your thoughts wander.

I finally felt like a human being.

A wonderful story.

You're like a character

from a novel.

And I understand you completely.

What's sillier than work?

Life has to be full

of leisure and love.

Of poetry and adventure.

Otherwise it isn't worth a damn.

You must promise to come as Trotsky

to my charity ball next week.

I would really love to help you

with your film clips.

Is there a script?

No, a few scenes would suffice...

Maybe you'll find something

in the novel Jakob puts in your room.

Do you ever smoke hashish?

Would you think me silly

if I recited a poem?

But it's a bit old-fashioned.

It would be very nice.

But don't laugh.

Overflowing heavens

Of squandered stars

Flame brilliantly above your troubles

Instead of into your pillows

Weep up toward them

There, at the already weeping,

At the ending visage,

Slowly thinning out, ravishing

Worldspace begins.

Who will interrupt,

Once you've forced your way there,

The current?

Octavia?

What are you doing there

in the dark?

Weren't you staying at the Excelsior?

Why is there still

no telephone out here?

Hans! Franz! Bring the suitcases in.

It's outrageous.

The room was booked for tomorrow!

Everyone knows

I only arrive on Wednesdays!

I'll have to put up with you

for a night.

Won't you introduce the gentleman?

Oh yes, may I introduce

Baron Kobersky from St. Petersburg?

My aunt, Erkentrud Flambow.

Baron Kobersky.

It's a pleasure.

My sister married

a Count Wolperdinger.

- Do you know him?

- I'm afraid not.

An important dynasty in this country.

My brother-in-law's uncle was

a close advisor to the Kaiser.

"For a long time

I used to go to bed early.

"Sometimes, when I put out my candle,

my eyes would close so fast

"that I had not even time to say,

'I'm going to sleep.'"

2. Diary of a

Personal Assistant

For a long time I thought

you had to be rich

to have success with women.

Well, not with all women.

I did kiss Rosa from the factory once,

But she's poor herself,

and it was dull.

With Miss Octavia, however,

my heart quivers

even when I serve

her eggs in the morning.

I may lack literary education,

but writers themselves

also seem to lack all education.

In that French book,

a child simply writes everything

that occurs to its child's mind.

Yet Miss Octavia thinks

the book is fascinating.

So I'm also going to write down

everything I've seen and thought.

So far I've thought little.

Or differently.

Because I'm often tired,

especially after a flea has bit me.

But the child in the book

is also tired.

It's a lot about beds

and how people lie in them.

And yet the book is very dear

to Miss Octavia.

The men she wants to kiss

get it placed on their nightstand.

When you're tired,

you only need to write it down.

Then you're no longer a simpleton

but a man of letters.

Hi, Rosa.

Nice to see you.

Where are you going?

- To get some eggs from our tenant.

- Your tenant?

So you've gotten Miss Flambow-Jansen

to marry you?

Very funny. I meant it figuratively.

Don't be angry.

I just worked the night shift.

I'm tired.

I'm also tired,

but I'm still polite.

Look.

Chinese fleas.

Some people say

they're vampire bites.

The newspaper said

vampires were just a myth

to cover up for bad hygiene.

Are you kidding me?

No offence,

I'm affected as well.

So high society practices

bad hygiene as well?

You turn my words inside out

like an umbrella.

You're just in love

with Flambow-Jansen.

I've had enough.

My feelings for Miss Flambow-Jansen

are purely professional.

Then why do you like

being exploited by her?

She doesn't exploit me.

Miss Octavia is a wonderful person.

Capitalism exploits all workers.

Maybe.

But I'm from a bourgeois family.

My father was a

secondary customs assistant.

I learned that reading Marx.

In the past, people only worked

enough each day

until they produced enough value

for that day.

With machines, that value

is produced in just two hours,

but we must keep working anyway,

which creates surplus value.

And that's what makes

the capitalists rich.

I don't produce anything.

And certainly no surplus value.

Want to come to the beach later?

Today is the big Socialist swim meet.

We could get some ice cream.

Another time.

I'm very busy professionally right now.

I'll tell you what you are.

A brain-dead servant.

Leave me in peace.

You just lack literary education.

So you don't understand people

and the hidden workings of the heart.

Tell me, Jakob, seeing that you enjoy

such a good relationship

with Miss Flambow-Jansen,

might she perhaps consider

exercising some patience with my rent?

It's the global market...

My hens shit out

one egg after another

but you can't live on that anymore.

Then there's that Chinaman

who has ruined everyone's appetite.

Could you put in a good word for me?

I'll see what I can do.

...a Polack, of course.

And unemployed to boot.

You've already stolen

West Prussia.

Now Poznan and Upper Silesia.

Will your bloodlust never be sated?

But tell Miss Octavia not to worry.

The criminal will not escape

the punishment he deserves.

She'll be pleased.

You can take the motorcycle too.

Okay, it's just...

I don't have a driver's license.

Do you want to block traffic?

I've noticed

that thoughts and events

often don't fit together.

On the way home,

I pondered the telephone

we'd be getting soon

and that there'd be no more pleasant

strolls to the telegraph office,

nor cigarettes on the way.

They'd be replaced by urgent calls,

so there'd be less nice things

and more dumb ones.

Until there'd be

no time left for thinking at all.

Help!

I wondered

what all the running was about,

also in terms of

what I would write in my diary.

So I went to see, whereas in the past

I would have just wondered.

She's still breathing.

It was close.

What's wrong with her?

When very thirsty vampires

attack very delicate women,

it can be life-threatening.

Make sure you take good care

of dear Miss Octavia!

So, is the matter settled?

No offense, Dr. Humburg.

Stealing a bicycle from one

of our best customer's sons...

Is it the newest practical joke,

or did I miss something?

I just borrowed it.

Enough of that!

If the Baron found out...

He was there.

But his aristocratic soul

didn't suspect a thing.

You need a man like that.

Stop bothering me.

I beg your pardon, Miss Octavia,

but you must get to safety.

Calm down, Jakob.

What has upset you so?

Rosa, a worker

was lying in the field half-dead.

It was the vampire.

His bites usually just make you tired,

but they can be deadly.

What is this horror story?

Chinese fleas, Mrs. Flambow.

A plague of the uneducated classes.

Due to bad hygiene.

But common folk tend

to suspect the supernatural.

No flea can bite like that.

It must have been a vampire!

But Jakob, vampires only exist

in movies. Maybe it was a fox.

Or a crime of passion.

That's no rarity in the proletariat.

Still, we should take

the young man's concerns seriously.

These fleas can indeed be dangerous

to those with weak constitutions.

The victim had clear bite marks,

I presume? On her neck perhaps?

Yes. Very clear.

Chinese fleas, no doubt.

What can be done?

A bourgeois lifestyle

is usually protection enough.

What do you mean?

Jakob, please go wash your hands.

I always wash my hands, yet...

Gross!

Do you have these Jewish fleas too?

Goodness, no! But the workers

think the fleas are an invention.

Jakob, I've studied

this phenomenon closely.

Do you doubt science?

Of course not.

You should wash your hands

if you had contact with the victim.

Certainly. Thank you.

Do you believe in vampires, Baron?

Such stories were also told

under the tsar.

Dr. Hamburg's explanation

was certainly sound.

The whole vampire thing

must be humbug.

Octavia looked at me scornfully,

as if I were an imbecile.

Now I'll have to prove my indispensability

by being even more diligent.

The biggest threat to the German soul

is doubtless unemployment insurance.

Simple, uneducated people

naturally tend to frivolity

and neglect of duty.

The Good Lord created

a clever antidote to that:

hunger.

But when the natural compulsion

to work is lessened

since true hunger

hardly exists anymore, then...

My God!

What a clumsy servant you have!

Stop calling him a servant.

He's my personal assistant.

You know, Baron,

Dr. Humburg recommended

that I always hire two servants.

It creates a competitive atmosphere

and thus a lasting motivation.

What do you say?

You're right.

And it works. Hans and Franz

fit together like cogs in a machine.

Do you really think a baron cares

how you run your household, Auntie?

She's a good girl, actually.

She speaks three languages,

is an excellent pianist, and,

despite occasionally shooting off

her mouth, she is always dutiful.

The product of my modest upbringing,

as you can guess.

Of course.

And don't people owe everything

to their upbringing, Baron?

I agree in full.

You see, Octavia? The Baron and I

understand one another.

And yet in affairs of the heart,

the personal assistant

is at times a step ahead,

since he knows

what my rival doesn't,

namely if her aunt likes something,

Miss Octavia stops liking it

As an aristocrat, you can't share

my aunt's bourgeois values?

- Well...

- Pay no heed to her insolence.

It's her solitary heart speaking.

It's high time she got married.

My dear aunt, I wanted to tell you

some important news.

I've decided to move to Cairo.

To Cairo?

What are you going to do in Cairo?

I'm going to work as a waitress.

As a waitress? For the Negroes?

Jakob will accompany me.

Perhaps we'll even marry?

Idiot!

Nebucha...

Nebuchadnezzar!

What are you doing up there?

Imbecile!

You imbecile!

Get Nebuchadnezzar down right now!

It's just... I'm apt

to experience vertigo.

Don't worry. I'll save the bird.

A baron in the trees? No!

Hans! Franz! Get that animal down!

I'll take care of it.

But be careful, please!

My hopes of marriage

were dashed.

- Here's your bird.

- Oh, thank you.

Jakob, will you take him

to the house?

Who could that be at this hour?

Imagine you wanted a painting

by Renoir in the proper size.

Or a ton of monazite sand

from Brazil.

You wonder, "Who should I call?"

And someone says, "Try Bonin."

And indeed, it turns out he knows

just the man in Rio de Janeiro.

Yes, I like to think

that I know everyone

you can even think of.

- You're exaggerating.

- Try Auntie. He's telling the truth.

Okay, then...

Do you know

Otto von Wolperdingen?

Naturally.

Of ancient Hessian nobility.

Until 1917 he had coffee plantations

in German East Africa.

He sold them for a profit

before the war ended

and then bought shares in

a diamond mine in the Belgian Congo.

He lives with your sister Dörte

in Rüsselsheim.

You see?

Amazing!

It is indeed impressive.

The Baron did not know him.

You're not familiar

with the German nobility?

Certainly, but...

I met your brother-in-law

while working for Mussolini

on Bora Bora.

What a wonderful coincidence.

Well, forgive the expression,

but that old jackass

almost ruined the entire mission.

Don't you always say

that everyone over 40 should be shot?

With the exception of your dear aunt

and our Dr. Humburg, of course.

In such cases, physical attraction

is usually decisive.

Does she feel any for me at all?

The Baron has nice eyes

and an exotic hairstyle.

Bonin embodies all the erotic virtues

of the German race.

Am I simply too ugly for her?

But ugly people tend to settle

with other ugly people,

whereas I only like Octavia,

so I can hardly be ugly.

You know, Bonin,

I'm a doctor of pharmacy.

There are astounding parallels

between the symmetrical structure

of a word play

and the protein shell

of a virus genome.

Kant himself considered

the possibility

that a race's sense of humor

is related to its gut flora.

Mmm, won't you give us a sample?

You mentioned Rüsselsheim.

It calls to mind an erotic epigram

that was, listen for the alliteration,

the spring spa splash.

A woman got a telegram:

"My husband's back from Amsterdam!"

Said her stud from Rüsselsheim:

"I pulled my dick out just in time."

Dr. Humburg!

You have to see it on paper to...

Where were we?

Bora Bora.

Aren't they Negroes too?

A sub-species.

Phenotypically,

they're especially pleasing.

The women in particular

are stunning.

You don't say.

They should be in movies.

Bonin, did I tell you

that I'm going to be in a movie soon?

A movie?

The Baron is an artist and a filmmaker.

I'm producing it.

Well, well! What's it about?

A vampire story

with a romantic element.

I'll be playing the lead. The Baron

will be the hero and my lover.

The Baron?

That must be a joke!

Um... no.

A vampire movie? Excellent!

A vampire movie?

Isn't that a bit vulgar?

In support of your aunt,

I might note that Hegel

completely omits film in his aesthetics.

How horribly reactionary you all are!

And when will the filming

of your masterpiece begin, Baron?

- Uh...

- In one or two days.

- In two days?

- You bet!

Jakob, you should have gone to town

to cable Berlin for the material!

- How late is it?

- It's 3:30.

The office closes in a hour.

Go with him, Baron,

so that the imbecile gets it right.

I don't like one bit that the Baron

is going to play her lover.

On the other hand,

filming might provide an opportunity

to show off my literary talent.

Then again, she called

me an imbecile twice today.

But don't they say

that dumb fucks good?

Where did that idiot

with the parachute come from?

We met him this winter on a ski trip.

Of course, I'm not sure if that saying

is known in educated circles

and thus if she would be able

to apply it to me.

Plus, one must strip naked

to make love.

But how could I

since I'm covered with,

if not vampire bites,

then certainly flea bites?

Do you believe in vampires?

No.

Wouldn't the vampire be

the more interesting role for you?

The lover could also be played...

by me, for example.

You're the cameraman.

I see.

Then who will play the vampire?

Why not Mr. Bonin?

I'm sure Miss Octavia

would love him to bite her neck.

Cut!

What are you doing, Octavia?

- Isn't it silly for him to bite my foot?

- I think it's nice.

Can't he give me the classic neck bite?

It'd be more realistic.

And scarier too, right?

There's literary justification

for it, too.

I'll do it however you want.

- Wouldn't it be unpleasant...

- Oh, please

- But...

- You're not jealous, are you?

We'll do one in the neck.

Cut.

"Samuel's brow is noble and pure,

"his eyes glitter

like two drops of coffee,

"his nose is teasing and scoffing,

"his chin square and despotic,

"his hair pretentiously Raphaelesque."

Look!

Move over.

Where'd you find that?

How are we supposed to cut it?

With this.

May I?

Is there more wine?

Here.

What's our next scene?

A spooky melon burial, maybe?

I'd rather do a vampire taking a nap.

The film artists are having a party!

Bonin!

We're taking a break. Sit down.

When's it over?

I'd like to watch some filming.

The light is very nice right now.

We should do the final scene.

Oh, yeah!

Wasn't it slated for tomorrow?

What kind of cameraman are you?

It's the light that matters,

not your silly schedule.

Wouldn't it be more elegant

to leave this scene

to the audience's imagination?

Camera.

And action.

Another time from over there.

Don't we have enough?

Oh, Jakob,

you don't know what love is.

But I know what it is,

because I love Octavia.

When we kissed

she felt something too.

Of course she has moral doubts

about me since I'm a proletarian.

But when she sees the movie

she'll still want to marry me.

Our life will be nothing

but love and leisure.

I'll even give up acting.

Soon there will be talking pictures,

and there will be lines to memorize.

I won't mind if you

stay on as her assistant.

But you couldn't just walk into

her bedroom in the morning.

For she won't be alone

in there anymore.

I think this is a good spot.

Dear Diary,

I've written everything down

and become a man of letters.

I've lived the life of a film artist

and spoken freely in high company.

And yet she kisses him,

and still ignores me out of sheer habit.

But now that I'm a writer

a return to my old existence

seems intolerable,

whereas I used to be content

just to fluff her pillows on Sundays.

They say he has

17 slant-eyed children.

Still no one stops him

doing his illicit work,

ruining my pharmacy,

without batting a slanted eye.

It's your fault too, butterball.

You weren't even invited

to the charity ball.

Hey, isn't that...

Miss Flambow-Jansen's assistant!

What's he doing in the rocks?

Very strange.

Perhaps you could approach him

about an invitation?

I can't just wake him up!

Butterball!

Excuse me, sir...

3. Wrong Life

Cannot Be Lived Rightly

Baron! Baron!

Please excuse the interruption.

It's just that we heard

about the tragedy with Mr. Jakob.

And to honor Mr. Jakob's memory

we slaughtered our turkey Karla

who loved him so much.

To remember him by.

Thank you.

Bravo, princess!

Very elegant!

That'll be hard to beat.

Be quiet and give me a ball.

Sorry, you hit the last one

into the bushes.

Don't you have a caddie to fetch it?

Alas, my assistant Jakob died.

And I haven't seen Lyovochka

since this morning.

That strange, taciturn Russian?

Who is he anyway?

Octavia now has

a proletarian pet.

It's all the rage.

You should also get yourself

a singing miner

or a poet baker.

Sure! Where do I find one?

You're just a bigmouth.

Lyovochka risked his life for art.

Indeed, your aunt was very angry

about the whole movie thing.

But it was you

she wanted to kill.

Stalin himself wanted to hang him.

Was he such a bad actor?

For political reasons.

How boring.

Considering the poor quality

of Soviet gallows

a game of golf with you,

dear Octavia,

poses a greater threat

to life and limb.

Earlier you almost knocked out

one of poor Dr. Humburg's eyes.

But let's toast already.

I'm going to look for Lyovochka.

Am I interrupting?

Of course not.

What are you doing?

Making my special recipe.

It's a surprise.

These potatoes are very interesting.

We don't have potatoes like these.

They're incredibly long and thin.

More like carrots.

Look how thick the peel is.

The interesting question is

how much boiling they necessitate.

Excuse me, please.

Bon appétit!

This stew is delicious!

Poor Jakob didn't just die

like a vegetarian.

He cooked like one too.

Biologically speaking,

mushrooms are closer

to animals than vegetables.

According to his own rules...

he shouldn't have eaten it.

How nice. My assistant is gone,

and you're amusing yourselves.

And the poor Baron has debased

himself in the kitchen for me.

I find it utterly shameful

what you've agreed to do

out of friendship for my niece.

Dr. Humburg,

let's finally toast the purchase

of your first block of shares.

It is a great honor for me.

To paraphrase our great poet Geibel,

If you count

each drop of sweat

No blessings of fortune

will you get

What was the name

of your wife's rich uncle?

- Rüdiger.

- Well, then. To Uncle Rüdiger.

I regret I must return

to a disagreeable topic.

I mentioned the displeasure

our focus on exports

is causing in the workforce...

It's such a nice evening.

Isn't there a more interesting topic

than the factory?

Lyovochka could tell us

a tale from Revolutionary Russia.

The Revolution has taken

its toll on him.

Rationalization has

intensified processes

for which we can't always

offer adequate incentive,

which may result in the

forming of a workers' council.

Excuse me?

In itself it's no cause for panic.

Most of the workers are

moderate Social Democrats, but...

there seem to also be

scattered extremists who reject

our democratic economic system

on principle.

Communists or fascists?

Communists, I fear.

A Russian cookbook was found.

It began circulating

as a birthday present.

The dedication contains

verses by Mayakovsky.

This is irksome.

At least you can talk to fascists.

Can they be shot?

A well-tempered cruelty

to restore order?

- Right before the elections?

- I'm tired of this.

A lady from Dresden

must spend her old age

in the grasp of Jews and Frenchmen,

and you democrats are waving

flags of peace?

I had to fire Hans. Imagine it!

That rascal stole my hairpin.

Strange. You know

I dreamt about Hans recently?

It was very strange.

His eyeball was dripping

like a runny egg.

But we couldn't find a spoon.

Feel free to make a suggestion for once.

Want to end up like him?

Maybe you could give

a lecture in the factory.

What?

Tell them a bit

what Communism is like

from the victim's perspective.

A fantastic idea!

But will the proletarian mob

listen to a baron?

He can say

he's a persecuted writer.

I have the title:

"They Even Took My Fountain Pen."

He could go on a lecture tour!

Although I really did lose

my fountain pen.

You don't say!

The first time's a bit strange,

but you'll get the hang of it.

I have a little stage fright.

It seems capital is a burden, too.

A delight, Humburg. It's a delight.

Soon you won't be able

to get enough of it.

Can I ask you a question?

Before I bought my block of shares,

did you drink mine too?

Go on now, you old ninny!

"Rosa was lying in the field

half-dead. It was the vampire...

"It can be life-threatening

for delicate young women

"(like Miss Octavia)."

Help!

What happened?

The pharmacist and his friends

were playing a practical joke.

But they seem to have forgotten me.

What are you doing with that?

A new movie?

Do you believe in vampires?

Real vampires?

I'd rather not.

- I saw him.

- You?

This morning. In my room.

I have to find him

so he doesn't harm Octavia.

Hello, my dear film artists.

Why do you still have

that stake, Baron?

We're looking for the real vampire.

Really? And I thought

the Baron was one himself.

- Me?

- Yes. Because of your title.

Yet the mere sight of your potato nose

should have told me

that you're nothing more

than a court jester.

I'm done talking to you.

Why so sensitive, my dear Baron?

God almighty!

Look out, Baron!

Where did we leave off?

But Marx explicitly says

that the capitalist sucks blood.

But we already discussed

that Marx is not interested

in denouncing individual capitalists.

Instead, he polemically identifies

the unfettered form

of capitalist production

in its pure, abstract state.

Without democratic regulations,

so to speak.

But there is a ruling class

that Marx wants to abolish.

Oh, man! You're always bothering us

with your dumb questions.

Shut up already.

You know what?

I'm sick of this bozo brigade.

Speak of the devil.

Really, Bonin!

Drinking blood

that doesn't belong to you!

I'm sorry.

I should have asked permission.

I was so exhausted this morning.

It was so loud last night

in the hotel.

Then I saw your actor lying here,

and since my father's stocks make

me a future Flambow shareholder...

Relax!

That's what thirst does to you.

They say Socialism would liberate

us from it.

I wonder what it would be like.

But you don't want to trade after all.

The blood would just flow

into some field.

That's no good either.

Better not to think of it.

And yet I'm embarrassed.

Shall we forget it

over coffee at the Excelsior?

Let's have a drink here instead.

Too bad he has

that moldy cabbage taste, right?

You're an idiot.

But you know...

I'm glad I saw you. I...

wanted to tell you something.

You're moving to his kolkhoz?

Stop. I really like him.

He's just somewhat... awkward.

Is he a good kisser at least?

But I wanted to talk to you too.

Really?

Since arriving, I haven't been able

to find the right moment.

And in your bed.

I can't think clearly.

You go first.

I've long wished to have

a serious talk with you.

Ever since that time in St. Moritz

I've hoped that...

the liking we have for one another

might develop into something more.

Some of your statements

have led me to speculate

that you might also be open to that.

So I wanted to talk to you

before leaving for Budapest.

Because I thought

you might want to come with me.

Oh, Bonin, you've read my mind.

You show up, and I feel dizzy.

And then you're gone again,

before we've had a chance to talk.

Instead I search for secret signs

in your words, gestures, and glances.

Then I ponder and hesitate.

Yet it could be so easy.

Speak freely.

Tell me what's in your heart.

I'll come to the point.

A few days ago I was called

by an old business partner, Heideck.

He told me a Hungarian scientist

had developed a new technology

for radio transmission of moving images,

a kind of tele-vision.

A ways off, but you can see

the possibilities

for military and advertising.

The patent royalties

are accordingly expensive.

And since I lack liquidity

at the moment

and since my father

simply refuses to die

I thought of you.

That is, I thought of us.

Brainless leftists!

Can I be of assistance?

We've come to arrest the vampire.

Miss Flambow-Jansen

is the bloodsucker!

Octavia?

I understand your surprise.

But her behavior

has long been suspicious.

She didn't even invite the pharmacist

and his wife to the charity ball.

It's for vampires only.

Nonsense.

True.

Dönitz is a petty bourgeois.

But Schnösl the worker

saw everything.

Like what?

Her sucking your blood.

Why didn't I see it?

You were unconscious.

He dreamt it up.

Where's he hiding anyway?

He's in shock.

He can barely speak.

And you believe him?

Where are you from anyway?

He's a foreigner!

And a baron to boot!

Maybe you're in cahoots with her.

You really think

she sucks your blood,

and two days later

she puts on a charity ball?

Where's the sense in that?

He has a point.

Plus, the young lady gives us work.

Whereas a vampire

only thinks about itself.

Without her there'd be no

pharmacy student summer camp.

Plus,

our young lady

caught a chill from yearning

and has been in bed for two days.

Poor thing!

I know all about yearning.

Bourgeois chatter.

But our comrade gave his word!

A "comrade"?

To his discredit,

Schnösl belongs to a Marx reading group.

Karl Marx?

A Marx-critical Marx reading group.

Enough. Schnösl saw it.

You were lying in the sand.

She was next to you.

Did he see her bite him?

The facts speak for themselves.

Even if it's just a bad metaphor,

she still exploits us.

Let's grab her

and take the factory.

Life belongs to us!

Hurrah!

Don't mix things up.

Political opinions

belong in the ballot box.

No, no, no. Hold on a second.

I usually don't believe

anything Schnösl says.

And that goes double for dames.

Nevertheless, I'd like to say:

Let's go.

Hold

Your proletarian hands

Tight on the world's throat!

Property owners

will be "de-propertied" today.

Excuse me?

That's out of the question.

A Socialist society

will develop organically,

once we have established

an unbroken international

telephone network.

Maybe we should ask Moscow

for advice.

- Damn Russians!

- Right again.

While we're debating,

the vampire keeps on sucking.

Let's get her, then we'll see!

And how did he manage

to observe a dangerous vampire

that no one else has ever seen?

An invisible hand

pulled him to the scene.

An invisible hand?

It sounds strange

but that's what happened.

At least that's what Schnösl told us.

He was drunk.

I know how much aspirin

that red rascal buys.

Octavia is innocent.

I'm on the real vampire's trail.

Explain.

I've set a trap.

Give me a couple days, and I'll

bring you the real bloodsucker.

So the young lady

has time to escape?

Midnight tomorrow.

The vampire better be on the table,

or else...

Tomorrow is the charity ball.

Midnight tomorrow.

There you are.

Know what the worst thing

in the world is?

That no one knows

how to love anymore.

That's not true.

It is! All relationships are based

on calculation and self-interest.

Even you only tolerate me

because I'm funding your movie.

The movie doesn't matter.

Leave me alone.

Finish the joint.

I'm going to bed.

I'm just dropping off your costume.

Where have you been?

Let's have a drink.

What a stupid, shitty party!

We have to get drunk.

Why are you carrying

the movie around?

We'll send it to UFA.

Or I'll come with you to Hollywood.

I can't stand it here anymore.

When does the next ship leave?

But I wanted to introduce you

to someone.

My dear Princess Sherbatskaya,

may I introduce you to a compatriot

and a good friend?

The exile Leon Trotsky.

Princess?

What's wrong?

Princess?

It was just a joke.

Good evening, Lyovochka.

I hope I didn't frighten you.

What's it like to be dead?

You see things clearer

when you're not so caught up in life.

But... may I walk with you a bit?

Of course.

What are you doing with the film?

I have to save Octavia.

Let her go.

Never!

I don't want to offend you

but class relations

will keep you apart.

That's why I'll marry her.

But she won't marry you.

At best, you'll stay her jester.

Fine.

You're already polishing her floors.

That's temporary.

Listen, you blind garden chair!

Octavia is the vampire.

You're just jealous.

Then I ask you,

why was she the only one not bitten?

And why does she love garlic mousse

and sun-bathing?

What about her sensitivity?

Her literary taste?

Her individualism?

Her longing for love?

And what if she's a vampire anyway?

I'll never get closer

to a life worth living.

I'm going to save her.

Wait! Do you remember the year 1917?

No!

Before the Revolution

you lived in a poor village.

You were poor too.

The best fields belonged

to the large landowner Tolstoy.

To live, you had to toil

in his fields as a day laborer.

Do you remember the forest?

The best mushrooms grew there

in late summer.

But the men

of the forest's private owner

kept a close watch

on his private mushrooms.

You'd been living in a

rat-infested debtors' prison for a year

when you were released

to paint the forest owner's fence.

Revolution!

Do you remember how you felt

when the paperboy showed up?

In a frenzy of enthusiasm

you went to the city.

Only you forgot

to bring something to eat.

And you had no money, of course.

And since you'd smoked

a week's ration of tobacco on the way

you were a bit dizzy.

Are you hungry, comrade?

Long live the Revolution!

All cauliflowers now belong

to everyone.

So my cauliflower is your cauliflower.

Remember the hope

that man's exploitation of man

would finally come to an end?

That hope was bullshit.

Why not learn from past mistakes

and try again?

Kiss my ass!

The Chinaman!

Please tell Miss Flambow-Jansen

we're sorry.

We're ashamed

to have suspected a compatriot.

We must have been

suffering from sunstroke.

Or from Marxism.

We know what we have to do now.

We are the people.

Hurrah!

But comrades, think a minute!

That was just some shabby movie.

We don't tolerate pessimists.

But...

Come on, let's go get the Chink!

Three Chinamen with a double bass

Sitting on the corner

Chatting face to face

A policeman came and gave them chase

Three Chinamen with a double bass

Patrick Baker et al.

BABELFISCH TRANSLATIONS

Bloodsuckers - A Marxist Vampire Comedy (2021) - full transcript