Inferno (1973) - full transcript
Is it true? Am I really insane?
Me, the famous August Strindberg,
born in the good old days...
...the fast-changing era of steam engines
and electricity.
I'm short of breath, my nerves are bad...
Perhaps I'll be a modem man?
When will I see you again?
When will I see you again?
So, when will I see you again?
Soon.
Bye for now.
Give our kid a kiss from me.
I was filled with joy when I returned
from the station where I'd said goodbye...
...to my dear wife who was on her way
to our ailing child in a faraway land.
Here Frida used to sit...
...and spy upon my soul...
...day and night.
Did you say something, sir?
No... thank you,
that's fine.
But does something tell me...
that now we're separated forever?...
And that we lied to each other?
When will we see each other again?
So, when will I see you again?
Soon.
Bye for now.
Give the kid a kiss from me.
Goodbye, Paris. All the best.
We'll never meet again.
I'm Frida Uhl, 22, Austrian,
and till now, Strindberg's second wife.
You won't see much of me.
Sometimes there'll be just my voice.
I'm his first wife's voice as well.
Maybe his late mother's, too.
Strindberg was a restless man,
and often left us women.
Being with him was complicated.
So we women left him too.
I left him just as his major crisis
was starting.
Above all it Involves
putting an end to the past, completely.
That decadent way of life
is now over!
My whole unhealthy
attitude about colours...
...and sensual fragrances?
My obsession with titles?
All of It!
I hate all of it!
Good riddance! I can feel it already...
Now I feel happy, clean and lucky...
--. but there's still my marriage
which is dirty and beneath me!
A woman's smell still lingers here.
I must put an end
to this soul-destroying scepticism!
An end, too, to meaningless
and powerless socialism!
An end to democratic stupidity...
...and an end to that Christ
who fears all true greatness, such as mine.
1 also renounce the cold Naturalism
that I'm known for.
The whole of my life up to now...
. has been a litany of errors
Baseness, stupidity, arrogance...
I don't know how I've survived
under those circumstances.
I'm so ashamed of myself!
I accuse myself before the world...
...and can only make up for it
with suffering.
The whole of me seems strange...
. and unsympathetic to me.
It's like...
Like I've lost all contact.
Strangely, I feel...
...that my past doesn't exist anymore.
Completely, I think I
I intend razing it to the ground.
I take back everything I've said...
...everything I've written.
Literature is nothing.
Only science matters.
This is what I've organised
with the last of my money.
Firstly, I'll detect the presence of carbon
in sulphur.
All the authorities say...
"It can't happen... it's just an element. "
But I'll show them they're wrong...
My fate depends on it.
5 of Strindberg's plays
had been performed in Paris.
Successfully.
I was there.
Each of them generated
passionate discussion.
A theatrical revolution,
it was said.
Strindberg had put a new spirit
into drama.
His melancholy felt genuine
and was contagious.
The one I knew so well in private.
Many Parisians condemned him...
...but even more called him
the Shakespeare of the new age.
But he'd written nothing new lately...
Not a word.
He avoided the theatre,
watched none of his performances.
He finished up offending
the theatre world in his letters.
More's the pity.
I'm on fire... I'm on fire!
Hell and damnation!
Towards morning,
it was working at last.
I've shown that sulphur, a simple element,
does in fact contain carbon.
Look for yourself] That's how
an element can be transformed.
Tonight I've turned chemistry upside down.
I will be the greatest!
The mightiest!
And my new mission is more engrossing
than all my dramas ever were.
In this I stand as the lone hero...
...and that is far more difficult.
Do I feel sorry that there's no one
for me to feel grateful to?
It's MY victory.
Yet another letter from my wife.
Why?
Why does that creature
hate me so much?
I write to my wife...
...about my new scientific discovery...
...and so she goes on and on in her letter
about my daughter!
And makes snide remarks about
how useless my experiments are.
But worst of all she goes on
about it as "madness"!
I've made It quite clear to her that I've
severed all ties with her and the child.
I said I regretted the years
I lived with her.
Our mutual hatred developed long ago.
During our honeymoon I had a sudden desire
to push her into the lake.
I don't know why...
It's hard to explain.
It was as if I'd been possessed
by a sudden fury.
We were in Austria.
He'd never written
such an outrageous letter before.
I answered that I was filing for divorce.
I've freed myself from
virtually everything.
So I spent the time coming up to Christmas
in complete solitude...
...and it was the gloomiest
and most miserable Christmas I ever had.
So, smothered In gloom, I was confronted
by accusing images.
I was seized with remorse,
but I resisted any cheap enticements.
Merry Christmas!
Come on, children!
As if hunted by furies, I was made to
forget both my aims and my absinthe.
It's no longer a coincidence...
Somebody is following me.
Why must I suffer this punishment?
Is it for my crimes against my family?
Is it all wrong?
And yet I was right...
And I'll be proved right.
Several times I felt...
...a strange, cold flow of air
that caressed me.
It was the most important time in my life.
What would the future bring?
The doctor thinks I have leprosy,
which is incurable.
- Come along now.
- This is humiliating. I'm not a child!
Come on.
Lie still.
There's nothing wrong
with my brain.
It sees and perceives everything
with the best of its ability.
Everything here..
Is hateful...
...unpleasant.
They pursue me like ghosts, the damned
and the doomed... waiting for their demise.
This one here just kissed his wife.
I wonder how it went...
...as he has no lips.
I toast with arsenic.
What do you toast with?
- Digitalis. Shall we swap?
- Sure!
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
This patient woman calls me "son".
I call her “mother”.
I haven't called anyone that in 30 years.
Take my advice...
Learn to enjoy laughing at pain.
Thanks, but don't roll me any more
cigarettes. I can't accept it.
- You understand?
- Yes, yes.
Suffering can quite often
have a beneficial effect.
If only she can fix it that I can go out.
I really need that.
I braced myself
and took my experiment...
...to the Chemistry Institute
for analysis.
I was asked to wait, and wait again...
A long wait.
I can't stand this torture.
Why must I run Into adversaries
who stand in my way and try to hurt me?
I have the analysis
of my chemical experiment.
Here's the analysis.
I'm so excited, so nervous...
I hardly dare open it.
The powder submitted to me
displayed the following...
Colour: dark grey.
Density: greater than graphite.
The powder Is highly flammable
and during combustion gives off
...carbon dioxide, carbonic acid.
It also contains carbon.
It's been confirmed! I'm not a fool.
That's what you thought, but I'm not!
I didn't take the experiments seriously.
The question Is If he imagines
his chemistry can support a family.
And most of all, free you...
...from your illusions.
Those illusions are dangerous,
and can end in a mental crisis.
Right away, I wrote, in a sharp tone,
a definitive farewell letter...
...where I broke from my family
once and for all.
Could I have a quick word?
Would you be so kind
as to post that for me?
What'll it cost?
That should be enough.
So now I feel like murderer
after a successful task.
I left the hospital
without being cured.
But you at least kept me
from the temptations of the world.
So there you are!
Though not quite my specialty.
Goodbye.
- Well then, my friend!
- Yes... yes.
I'm not interested in photography
in the way other people are.
I believe In the magical power of the
image, and right now I'm thinking...
...In the secret relationship between
the photographer and his subject.
Therefore I only do a same-size portrait.
Then I transmit my influence to it.
I don't know who Mr Boulay is...
...but I feel that Napoleon
has spoken to me today.
So I'll take him home with me.
Here I'm temporarily conquered...
A portrait of a dead chemist.
My dear famed Orfila,
tonight we entertain each other.
For some weeks I've been eating
at an artists' "milk-bar... *
...that are all the rage at the moment.
The proprietress interests me greatly.
She is a simple, motherly woman type.
Gauguin is a sailor who can paint.
But the other have talent.
They pay with paintings
that I don't always understand...
But I always like them.
People really like me here.
But since I don't want to be obliged
to anyone, I don't get involved.
They seem like a family,
and I'm alone.
Artistic anarchists,
nice but unruly.
Like me they're drawn by the desire
of finding a new secret.
But I just feel comfortable
with Madame Charlotte.
She's just a generous mother
for this whole family.
No, leave it... I'll do it.
Thanks.
- What are you scared of, my boy?
- Nothing. Thanks.
Artist or model?
Interestingly, she's like my second wife.
And my sister and my mother.
I know you're Strindberg.
I've heard of you.
I found out she was a sculptress
from England... and unattached...
. and I took to her right away.
I'll never forget that walk,
full of anguish and confused feelings.
Strindberg, come back!
It's too public.
Come on.
It was without doubt a punishment
for the temptation I was exposed to.
I had no right to her. I'm disgusted.
Won't see her again.
I'm dead to the world
because I've renounced everything.
Now I'm enjoying one of
my happiest periods.
I come here to chat
with my new friends.
We understand each other
quite well, don't we?
Everything's going right for me.
Unknown friends who help me.
My debtors pay me...
...80 I can buy instruments
to uncover the secrets of life with.
Lately I've been reading the bible...
...particularly the Old Testament.
But Buddhism interests me too,
as a living lesson.
Though I don't really think
I'm interested in following it.
I keep myself open-minded.
Now and again, when the gods
give me breathing space...
...I take in what's happening around me...
...and notice several surprising changes.
New trends and Inspirations
are appearing.
This century is nearing its end..
...and something is happening.
What? No one knows,
but I must be prepared.
Yes! This is true! Joy oh joy!
I penetrate deeper and deeper
into my own separate lives.
Nobody else Is even close...
Nobody!
Unbelievable!
Fantastic!
It's like an unexpected gift!
Perhaps my Innermost being is just waiting
to be put into force!
It's almost incomprehensible...
Impossible!
I've captured the Infamous smell of death
in a small bottle.
Remember my walks
in the cemetery?
Look at them. By chemistry,
I've brought them back to life.
But I've stopped,
as the breath of the dead stinks.
1 CAN control the living.
The living.
At an early stage I realised...
...I possessed the power
to influence the absent...
. such as friends and acquaintances.
And I believe...
...POSSESS...
. great unheard-of powers.
I'll tell you everything.
I felt a longing to reunite
with my wife and child...
...who I still loved.
Only a...
...a catastrophe, an accident,
could help.
I thought our daughter's illness
could be very suitable.
Children are often sick,
and mothers get worried.
Not unnecessarily, but In this case
it would be good.
My wife would send me a telegram,
like in a novel...
...and I focused on that goal.
Once when I was studying a very
interesting walnut kernel, it happened.
This can't be a walnut!
It was an image of children's hands,
pleading and praying to me.
Or what?
Is it no more than a walnut?
The unseen hand is lifted, and beaten,
falls again and again.
The unknown benefactor
who's been helping me, is absent.
The publication of my book is complicated.
My case is justified.
Suddenly, the whole house nauseates me...
I'd never noticed that before.
Out Out!
I must find out what's going on hers.
I can find no explanation.
Like with these 3 pianos.
The three of them play together
all day long.
Is it an Intrigue against me,
from womanhood perhaps?
Or Just a plot
by three old Scandinavian broads...
...because I didn't visit them?
Why must they harass me
day and night?!
The whole world, together with
the inventor of the piano, can go to hell
I can't hear myself think!
Stop it will, you?!
I'm tired and I'm devastated.
Tomorrow the 21st of February
I'll no longer be here.
I've have heard that there's a hotel
called Orfila.
Isn't that amazing?
The finger of fate, isn't it?
I had a few little things I want.
Was that all?
Was there something else?
1, Siri von Essen,
Strindberg's first wife...
...would like to tell
what happened then.
The 3 children from our marriage
had to go to hospital in February.
After they were better,
they wrote a letter to their father.
Strindberg's reply was impossible
to understand.
He spoke about the gods...
and the disgust he felt for himself...
...because he once wanted
to harm others.
I didn't want to comment,
or get involved in his troubled life.
Strindberg seems to be a person
who's always shouting about something.
This time I sensed he was weeping.
I had a really good night's sleep
last night.
A sort of serenity permeates this hotel.
Sensible habits
and no female company.
It's actually part of
a Catholiccloister.
Everything Invites you
to meditation.
So I hadn't expected THIS!
It seems I have the whole cloister's
toilet facilities under my nose.
The banality of It, in such an atmosphere
of mystery, surprises me.
6, 7,8, 11, 12... and then?
I can't move, anyhow.
I bought this
with the last of my money...
...and forced myself Into a last attempt
at producing gold.
So far, I'd had no luck.
Now this goddamned stuff
is going to come good!
Hell's teeth!
Damnation!
Stevens In New York hasn't got there.
A. 8. will be the first.
Let's see if it goes better now.
Is this bronze I see?
Not the right colour.
One more time.
Next morning.
1 felt nothing.
It was all over.
I had a terrible headache
and was nearly in tears.
I'd failed. There wasn't a speck of gold
in the precipitation.
So what now?
I've finished with it.
I've no longer a goal.
Please assure me
you heard that tool
It's clear that Providence is testing me...
And I submit myself.
I analyse my state of mind.
Since I've given up all my resistance,
I'm at the mercy...
...of forces that threaten
to tear me to shreds.
To save myself, I make notes...
...that one day I might compile
into a confession...
...that I'll call...
..."Inferno".
Next note: I go into town
to cash a cheque.
The street shakes under my feet.
The buildings too. Astonishing.
The city always shakes...
...but only those with sensitive nerves
can perceive it.
I haven't said one word out loud
for 10 days.
So my voice
has become a little weak.
I haven't said one word out loud
for 10 days.
So my voice
has become a little weak.
I must get it used to talking.
For example... "It's spring out there...
Paris is waking up. "
I must see people.
1 SHOULD see people.
But I shall be grieving
till the day I die.
My life is flowing into old age.
A wife, children, my own home...
I've wrecked them all.
And for what?
Spring, out there?
Autumn in here!
And somewhere behind the cloister walls...
...a sad piano plays Schumann's
"Aufschwung" that I remember so well.
That's it, isn't it?
Schumann's "Aufschwung”?
It's him! Popovski!
My student, my friend, my mortal enemy...
The Russian!
Has he come here to kill me?
Like he once killed me in Berlin?
But why? Why?!
Come! Come to met
His new wife had once
been my mistress.
But the coincidence
wasn't any fault of mine.
Just you wait!
So he hated me and pursued me
with such incredible malice...
...that I found no way out.
I still suffer from that last blow.
What if he's come to kill me?
I must check out Popovski's
fellow countrymen.
I know where to find the Russians.
They know everything.
- What's up? Not feeling well?
- I'm alright.
Is Popovski in Paris?
Nyet. Not as yet.
He was seen at Mercure de Francoski.
- Is he here or not?
- Maybe. Maybe not.
Maybe he's on his way here.
He's coming.
This Danish painter
is Popovski's friend.
He was my friend as well...
So he'll tell me the truth.
I was there 10 days ago, when I heard
the rumours about the Russian.
I'm here... Not there.
Has Popovski come to Paris?
Yes.
In order to kill me?
Yes... Definitely.
Be on the alert.
Get out of here!
Two days later I visited him again.
But he'd hidden himself.
I understand.
Not today.
But when?
This happened to me
on the next visit.
What message from the unknown
brings me this child.
The card means...?
I can't go in, that's obvious.
But what does it mean?
Why 10 of spades?
I don't understand.
I must add that the painter
was one of her lovers, before MY time...
...but she gave him up for me.
So he hated me.
- Have you heard already?
- What?
It's reported...
...that Popovski's been arrested
in Berlin...
...charged with the murder of his mistress
and their 2 illegitimate children.
Really? Then I'm off the hook!
I also hear he's been
released from prison...
...and that he was wrongly accused.
Meaning?
It seems he's here in Paris.
In order to kill me?
Definitely.
Be on the alert.
I warned you before.
Disappear!
Every day between 4 and 5...
then a month's time.
But I don't think I'll stay long.
Goodbye.
I'll now put the last and
bitterest experience behind me.
My beloved potassium cyanide...
...you push me gently across the border
between life and death.
It's easier than I thought.
And Schumann is no longer heard.
I'm starting to tremble.
Here's your tobacco sir...
Your favourite brand.
- Here you are.
- Thanks.
It smells terrible in here today.
As usual, sir.
The housemaids have their holiday in July.
Yes, just a moment...
Thank you.
Sleep well.
I had the first attack in the evening.
It's like a magnetic power surge...
...flowing through my body
and penetrating the nervous system.
Somebody's moved in here...
to spy on me.
Yes, there too...
It's from 2 directions!
Is he making fun of me?
Mimicking me?
Popovski! I know it's you!
He's killing me!
He's poisoning me!
I'm paralysed by electricity!
Hide me!
Police!
No, not the police...
I can't prove anything.
They'd put me in a lunatic asylum]
After 3 hours there was a second attack.
The electric current has reached my heart
and is sucking it out of me.
I'm being murdered!
I don't want to die!
Would you happen to be
an electrician?
A conspirator!
You're conspirators!
I've no idea how I got here.
But I feel I've lived... for 100 years.
It's him!
It's him!
Saint Lazare.
Saint-Lazare station!
Actually I was moving to a hotel
that was hidden away.
What I experienced there, that July,
was so dreadful...
. that I dare not speak of it.
Eventually, I left Paris in August...
After my long exile...
...I returned to Sweden,
to heal my wounds.
An old friend of mine, a doctor,
is meeting me here.
There he is, on his own.
He's wise, strong...
...and discrete.
Just the sort of friend I need.
So how are you?
How are the nerves?
I don't like the way your eyes look.
They're bad. What have you been up to?
Vice and debauchery?!
Or lost illusions?
Tell me all about it, old chap!
I tell him nothing.
I feel that HE's against me, too.
What happened to your hands?
- Chemistry experiments.
- I heard about that.
You can be on your own here.
- All on my own?
- On your own with me!
- What about that woman?
- My housekeeper.
Nobody else.
You'll soon be back to normal.
I undergo a coldwater treatment
with obnoxious medications.
And every day, the witch-hunt.
So what did you feel after that?
While I was there I was also
hundreds of kilometres away.
I saw everything quite clearly,
including how I saw myself.
- You're Insane.
- So examine my intelligence.
- Asylums are full of such people.
- Just see what I write!
What do I care about asylums?
I can explore myself in Lund.
Not a word to anyone about this!
I wonder why he's put me
in an iron bed.
Copper springs?
Inductors?
Connected to an electrical machine?
Or is it just a diabolical coincidence?
Then he placed these terrible instruments
in front of my door. Why?
What roll is this person
going to play in my life?
- Do you still read the Bible?
- Quite often.
Throw It away!
Religion's a symptom of this.
- Or a need.
- No arguments!
I'm not an atheist, but I don't believe
in the nonsense about eternity.
Throw away your Bible
and beware of the occult!
Do you know that a school for occultism
was started in Paris?
Damn them! And stop with your ambitions.
Forget that you're Strindberg.
- You have a duty to the fatherland.
- I've fulfilled that already.
- The fatherland has a duty to me.
- Drop chemistry.
Run, breathe, live!
But why should you run with me?
Because you interest me.
Could you create gold
using fire?
No.
- Could YOU?
- I've finished with all that stuff.
He lied.
Yesterday I found the fresh remains
of his experiments.
Imagine if I'd had such
perfect instruments!
Same methods...
...and he had no luck, either.
I'm glad about that.
Magpies?
Magpies?
The magpies are coming.
They're coming!
The magpies are coming?
- What's the matter, old chap?
- The magpies are coming. A swarm of them!
That I don't believe.
Goodnight.
Shoo! Shoo! Get away!
Who is it?
Electricity is coming through that wall!
At the same time a familiar voice
called the name of a pharmacist.
I wrote it down in my diary.
- Pharmacist Luthard!
- Pharmacist Luthard!
- Pharmacist Luthard!
- Pharmacist Luthard!
Luthard!
Now he's going to kill me.
The magpies fly away. The magpies
are coming. The magpies fly away.
The magpies are coming.
You too, old chap?
Yes.
Since when?
For about a year.
The sound comes from underneath me.
Under my head.
I feel I'm being watched.
It's mostly a bird.
Often a fish...
...or a man.
- Any electric shocks or surges?
- Not so far.
Do you ever feel as though
your heart's being sucked out?
No, not at all.
As though your soul
is leaving your body?
No. That's stupid.
Stop tormenting me!
Do you have any sulfonal at home?
In the cupboard
with the silver key.
Your unfortunate condition isn't
catastrophic, and you can help it.
Give me one, too.
To calm him down
and also warm him...
...I told him about those painful...
...and most difficult days of my own...
. during that Parisian witch-hunt.
Things I never should have revealed.
Right away at this last hotel,
I also found my enemies.
I was not able to identify those
suspicious-looking pieces of equipment...
...but it was clear to me that
they were part of an attack against me.
So why don't I run away?
I'm too proud...
...and one should not avoid
what is unavoidable.
Their organisation was both accomplished
and consummate. They were everywhere.
Already, seven minutes ago,
I received the first electric shock.
There's no escape.
Sir?
No! Leave me alone!
Go away!
Yes, I can see you need a bit more sleep.
Maybe you'd like to eat later on.
They've sentenced me to death.
Popovski?
On whose behalf?
The Catholics? The Pietists?
The Jesuits?
Or the police?!
It's happened before...
with the socialist anarchists.
Or?
Just my own imagination?
I don't know.
I just don't know.
Don't know the answer.
No... don't know...
My wedding shirt...
Bought in Vienna 3 years ago.
It'll suit me perfectly.
I don't need that...
Or that... Bye, bye.
Life and I are quits.
So, I'm prepared for death.
I don't know when to expect it.
There they are...
I can tell that it's them.
Yes... I'm ready now.
Here you have me...
You fools!
I'm alive?!
Curious.
Was Lill?
An attack?
Or just one of my hallucinations?
Or what?
I'll say no more.
Good day sir.
But really?
Goodbye, Paris.
Goodbye.
My dear friend, you seem to me
to be a completely hopeless case.
I'm sorry. Good night.
The magpies come.
The magpies fly away.
Since I tried to comfort my friend,
an implacable enmity has arisen between us.
My wife Frida is sorry...
and loves me.
The relatives in Austria...
...They forgive me...
...something I couldn't care less about.
But my daughter KARIN?
Happily, I receive this hint from fate...
...and I bow to it.
But my daughter in Austria
was called KERSTIN.
In Austria...
Here, on the Danube, at a place I dislike,
I've had a brief term of happiness.
This is actually where it all started.
I lived here after my marriage
to my second wife, Frida.
We often came here... to make love...
...and here we had our first quarrel.
At this spot, I once wanted to drown her...
I don't remember why.
But it's all in the past and won't
reappear... neither love nor quarrels.
Here or daughter was bom...
...and we gave her
the Swedish name Kerstin.
I haven't seen her since she was born.
Yet Kerstin is the only positive thing
left in my life.
I don't expect to run into Frida here.
Only my mother-in-law and her sister,
whom I've happily offended for years.
This man is truly Dr Faustus,
returned to life on Earth.
Just more loving, friendly, pure?...
Luck!
- I don't want to.
- No!
My son, what is wrong?
Welcome!
Make yourself at home here.
Thank you very much.
They appear to have forgiven me.
I felt very grateful...
but with a deep regret.
My little Kerstin, she's so enchanting!
But why did she run from me?
I'm your father.
August Strindberg.
And during these three last years,
you've often missed me.
Oh, I can feel your little heart,
beating against mine.
It's amazing...
One, two, thump, thump, thump!
For a man to love a child,
is to become a woman.
It's like removing the male,
to experience a sexless love.
As though we lived in heaven.
Exactly that!
I've experienced this landscape before.
And suddenly it feels disgusting...
So strange.
Is it Dante's description or my own
experience of my morbid imagination?
Or is all the same?
I've experienced hell,
but still find myself in the world.
My daughter can vouch for that.
She's here with me.
- Kerstin
- Yes, August, what is it?
There you are!
This must be hell...
Why is that rock shaped like a Turk's head?
Both the old ladies like me.
Unfortunately, they're twins...
...and I can't tell them apart.
They're so alike, that for me,
they exist as only one person.
Thank you.
Where did Frida live
when I was in Paris?
Here
- Where?
- Here!
- She's suffered a lot.
- So have I.
I know that she lives around here...
. but she's certainly avoiding me.
Won't you have something to eat?
- What's the matter?!
- What have you done?
- He hurt me!
- Come along, Kerstin.
Frida's grandmother has threatened
to disinherit them, all if I don't leave.
All the same to me.
Of course the old couple will cry...
...but that's to be expected.
It hurts me, about Kerstin...
Hurts me a lot.
Because she's the one making me leave.
But I promise you...
...you won't get a moment's peace
from me, ever!
Later I heard that she'd fallen ill,
on that very day.
This woman has been very understanding,
and offered to let me stay in her room.
This pink temple?...
It's impossible!
It would be disgraceful for
a sinner to stay in this...
...holy, innocent place.
No, no, I have to got
Why don't you stay...
You'll sleep well here.
This Isn't a room...
It's a poem to a clean soul...
. that half of us can't live up to.
And I consider this offer...
...as a gift from the gods.
And I feel... reprieved.
- What's this?
- The lightning rod. We were hit last year.
And the conductor
is set up over my bed?!
Suspicious. Who decided that?
The technician.
I recognised another fiendish coincidence.
Time and again they suck the life
out of my body.
On page 58 my fellow-countryman Swedenborg
describes hell.
"The fires of hell are desirous
of entering the world. "
"The gods awaken the desire, and allow
the damned to have it fulfilled. "
"But when the goal is
reached, everything seems
worthless and the victory
without meaning. "
There's someone. There's someone.
Isn't that it, exactly?
Swedenborg draws a picture
of life on Earth and calls it hell.
That's visionary... visionary!
With surprise, I discovered...
...his description of hell
is consistent with this landscape.
Has he been here?
I wonder? When?
And how did he regard
these miserable people?
These dark forests and creeks...
the village?
Let me finish writing this article,
so I can get money to travel!
The first attack came at 7.30pm.
The weather outside was bad... wild.
I know you're there, but this time
I don't intend capitulating!
If I'm to die today, it will be
as a warrior, unafraid of death...
...and brave in life.
So... I'm going to fight them?
Yes... I shall!
I'll fight them as Jacob fought with God.
I'll start by throwing stones,
and shouting and insulting him.
I'll disguise my voice so that
he doesn't recognize it.
That damned wind! It's too late.
But help me! Start throwing!
The first one... I
Help! I'm dying!
They're sucking the life out of my heart!
Walt! Walt! I'm choking!
I'm suffocating!
No, no, no, wait!
I'm burning! I'm on fire!
Let me out
We've been waiting for you..
- You're here?
- Yes.
What do you want, son?
That was surely Frida's voice!
- I wish myself dead, mother.
- Death hasn't been earned.
Turn off the light!
It hurts my eyes.
She spoke like my mother...
Kerstin!
I'll console myself with writing.
Frankly, I consider myself to be
standing in line with the Eternal...
...constituting an integral part
of His personality...
...emanating from His being.
And He needs me...
...50 he can reveal Himself.
Why should He otherwise have the lightning
strike the neighbouring house and not me?
I take it as a challenge from Him.
Why doesn't Kerstin understand Swedish?
Would you like a book?
This one, or that one?
All the same.
But I can't keep my thoughts together.
I'm tired, and constantly struggling
with my pride.
I get abusive... then I calm down...
seeing things in a new light.
The lightning was a regular event
for Monday morning.
Hello there...
Where do you think you're going?
No, wait...
Kerstin, Kerstin, this is important!
Strange how it has Austria's colours.
Where are you going?
To the west or to the north...
we'll see...
You're going north... That's fine...
But not yet.
The time is not yet ripe.
For some time, I've read the Bible here.
There's one place especially,
that speaks directly to me.
It's strange. It's surprising how the Bible
foretells my fate.
Saul's servants said unto him...
Behold now, an evil spirit from God
troubleth thee.
Let our lord now command thy servants,
which are before thee...
...to seek out a man,
who is & cunning player on an hap.
He shall play with his hand,
and thou shalt be well.
Amen, amen, amen, amen, Saul!
- How long have the children danced?
- Which children?
- How long have the children danced?
- Have they danced?
- How long have they danced?
- The children? I don't know.
- Could It be an hour?
- An hour?!
An hour ago, a countess down in the village
went insane.
- Is she dancing?
- Dancing?
In addition, she's terribly dressed.
So she IS dancing!
What else?
You have to say it exactly so.
Bravo, Countess!
We'd love it one more time!
Soon. First I must marry
my dead husband.
- Hold! The Countess is here.
- Good afternoon, Countess.
She was a free thinker.
Strangely enough, she once lived
in this house where you live now.
Her husband also died here.
Explain that, you doctors
and psychologists!
Or admit that science is bankrupt.
My little daughter has been forced
by evil spirits to despise me.
And after being hunted out of this
innocent, they've crept into that woman...
...who played at being a freethinker.
- Stop this satanic babble!
- Go away, and don't ever come back!
- Just get away from here!
- Just disappear, damn you!
I was driven out of Austria.
It was all I could have expected.
I didn't even get to say goodbye
to my little Kerstin.
I travelled northwards... to Sweden...
What might I expect there?
There are 90 towns in Sweden...
and of those, I chose... Lund.
Why?
There were students there
who chose me as their standard-bearer.
Others saw me as a corrupter of youth.
And there were people there
who I'd ruthlessly offended.
All in all... hell.
Moreover, I soon discovered that they'd
built a mental hospital in that town.
The first doctor I visited, confirmed
that I suffered from nervous exhaustion.
When did the symptoms begin?
Doesn't really matter.
The second one said
I had a heart disease.
The third settled for paranoia.
But put it down as emphysema.
That was designed to keep me
out of the asylum.
But in order to survive,
I had to settle down to writing.
He's once been a student leader.
They called themselves the Good Old Boys.
First they were socialists,
then nihilists...
...until they were wound up.
August?!
We've missed you here.
But don't look at me like that!
Same to you.
I've finished with all that stuff.
Where did you get a coat like this from?
- Just a couple of sinners.
- Something like that.
You're most welcome.
- Let's have a glass of wine.
- No, I can't...
I'm a teetotaller now.
- Young people want something new.
- Like with the Good Old Boys?
One glass.
They year for religion
and reconciliation with the gods...
To reclaim the spiritual world.
I think that's very important...
The contact with the spiritual world.
But you were a Naturalist...
a scientific realist.
That was in the past.
Naturalism, in Its time,
was strong and fruitful.
But some Ideas just fizzle out.
I don't miss it.
The gods want us to experiment,
and I've done that.
And the conclusion?
I return to my forbearing God.
But He is also changing.
So when will the new world come?
Do you know Swedenborg?
No, But my mother has his books.
If you could get me the books
I'd be most grateful.
I've only read a condensed version.
At last!
He's a genius!
My mother said
you're welcome to keep them.
This talented young man here,
reminds me of you.
He wants to met you.
So you're Strindberg?
What do you mean?
Just what I said.
I knew we'd come to meet.
Did you realise that Swedenborg's
been called the Buddha of the North?
I wonder why.
I've found one word... just one...
that sets aside all my concerns...
...and destroys all my fruitless obsession
with imaginary enemies.
Electricians, female
conspirators, ... practitioners
of black magic. And
the word is...?
1, a son of the great nineteenth century...
--- must always learn
at the feet of old Swedenborg.
I've learned that hell exists on earth,
and I've suffered through it.
Swedenborg distinguishes between
teaching and conflicting spirits.
He usually calls them demons.
They live Inside us... In
our back, our chest...
and they take possession
of our memories.
And they can punish us
for our evil intentions...
...through pain in the hands, the heart
or wherever we deserve it.
Here it is.
Devastated = Devastation
I sleep well. Any Immediate danger
of insanity is non-existent.
But now I ask myself...
What's left of the lessons I received
from my great master Swedenborg?
Worst of all... the battle with myself.
I know the demons
are searching within me...
...and they can only be expelled
through repentance.
Previously, I was a believer.
For several years I was an atheist.
Now I'm on the verge of falling into
religion again. Where's the sense in that?
Where does it all lead us?
That's difficult to say.
Personally, the path of suffering
leads back to our forefathers' religion.
To Catholicism?
That seems to be the case.
But Swedenborg doesn't allow that.
It wasn't that I sought Catholicism...
Catholicism sought me.
An advance of Catholicism Is starting
in England, America and Scandinavia.
And particularly in Paris.
Huysmans has converted...
Sar Peladan has converted.
You're sure to be leaving Lund
before long.
Maybe.
It looks like it.
I've asked to move into a Catholic
monastery in Belgium. Now I'm waiting.
And when the answer comes...
What then?
A new joke from the gods?...
Who laugh heartily...
while the rest of us weep.
The answer from the monastery
doesn't bother me all that much.
Today I'm starting on a new book.
Based on my daily notes
of that crisis of mine...
...I intend writing an account
which I'll call "Inferno".
And this book will be about...?
Maybe prophets who went too far.
No doubt it will be
my most painful book.
One more thing...
...my brothers.
All the suffering facing
inexplicable forces?
Shall I, in the words of Swedenborg,
advise...
"Do not do it again”.
What the word "it" refers
to, will be interpreted
by each of us according
to our conscience.
Subtitles by FatPlank for KG
Me, the famous August Strindberg,
born in the good old days...
...the fast-changing era of steam engines
and electricity.
I'm short of breath, my nerves are bad...
Perhaps I'll be a modem man?
When will I see you again?
When will I see you again?
So, when will I see you again?
Soon.
Bye for now.
Give our kid a kiss from me.
I was filled with joy when I returned
from the station where I'd said goodbye...
...to my dear wife who was on her way
to our ailing child in a faraway land.
Here Frida used to sit...
...and spy upon my soul...
...day and night.
Did you say something, sir?
No... thank you,
that's fine.
But does something tell me...
that now we're separated forever?...
And that we lied to each other?
When will we see each other again?
So, when will I see you again?
Soon.
Bye for now.
Give the kid a kiss from me.
Goodbye, Paris. All the best.
We'll never meet again.
I'm Frida Uhl, 22, Austrian,
and till now, Strindberg's second wife.
You won't see much of me.
Sometimes there'll be just my voice.
I'm his first wife's voice as well.
Maybe his late mother's, too.
Strindberg was a restless man,
and often left us women.
Being with him was complicated.
So we women left him too.
I left him just as his major crisis
was starting.
Above all it Involves
putting an end to the past, completely.
That decadent way of life
is now over!
My whole unhealthy
attitude about colours...
...and sensual fragrances?
My obsession with titles?
All of It!
I hate all of it!
Good riddance! I can feel it already...
Now I feel happy, clean and lucky...
--. but there's still my marriage
which is dirty and beneath me!
A woman's smell still lingers here.
I must put an end
to this soul-destroying scepticism!
An end, too, to meaningless
and powerless socialism!
An end to democratic stupidity...
...and an end to that Christ
who fears all true greatness, such as mine.
1 also renounce the cold Naturalism
that I'm known for.
The whole of my life up to now...
. has been a litany of errors
Baseness, stupidity, arrogance...
I don't know how I've survived
under those circumstances.
I'm so ashamed of myself!
I accuse myself before the world...
...and can only make up for it
with suffering.
The whole of me seems strange...
. and unsympathetic to me.
It's like...
Like I've lost all contact.
Strangely, I feel...
...that my past doesn't exist anymore.
Completely, I think I
I intend razing it to the ground.
I take back everything I've said...
...everything I've written.
Literature is nothing.
Only science matters.
This is what I've organised
with the last of my money.
Firstly, I'll detect the presence of carbon
in sulphur.
All the authorities say...
"It can't happen... it's just an element. "
But I'll show them they're wrong...
My fate depends on it.
5 of Strindberg's plays
had been performed in Paris.
Successfully.
I was there.
Each of them generated
passionate discussion.
A theatrical revolution,
it was said.
Strindberg had put a new spirit
into drama.
His melancholy felt genuine
and was contagious.
The one I knew so well in private.
Many Parisians condemned him...
...but even more called him
the Shakespeare of the new age.
But he'd written nothing new lately...
Not a word.
He avoided the theatre,
watched none of his performances.
He finished up offending
the theatre world in his letters.
More's the pity.
I'm on fire... I'm on fire!
Hell and damnation!
Towards morning,
it was working at last.
I've shown that sulphur, a simple element,
does in fact contain carbon.
Look for yourself] That's how
an element can be transformed.
Tonight I've turned chemistry upside down.
I will be the greatest!
The mightiest!
And my new mission is more engrossing
than all my dramas ever were.
In this I stand as the lone hero...
...and that is far more difficult.
Do I feel sorry that there's no one
for me to feel grateful to?
It's MY victory.
Yet another letter from my wife.
Why?
Why does that creature
hate me so much?
I write to my wife...
...about my new scientific discovery...
...and so she goes on and on in her letter
about my daughter!
And makes snide remarks about
how useless my experiments are.
But worst of all she goes on
about it as "madness"!
I've made It quite clear to her that I've
severed all ties with her and the child.
I said I regretted the years
I lived with her.
Our mutual hatred developed long ago.
During our honeymoon I had a sudden desire
to push her into the lake.
I don't know why...
It's hard to explain.
It was as if I'd been possessed
by a sudden fury.
We were in Austria.
He'd never written
such an outrageous letter before.
I answered that I was filing for divorce.
I've freed myself from
virtually everything.
So I spent the time coming up to Christmas
in complete solitude...
...and it was the gloomiest
and most miserable Christmas I ever had.
So, smothered In gloom, I was confronted
by accusing images.
I was seized with remorse,
but I resisted any cheap enticements.
Merry Christmas!
Come on, children!
As if hunted by furies, I was made to
forget both my aims and my absinthe.
It's no longer a coincidence...
Somebody is following me.
Why must I suffer this punishment?
Is it for my crimes against my family?
Is it all wrong?
And yet I was right...
And I'll be proved right.
Several times I felt...
...a strange, cold flow of air
that caressed me.
It was the most important time in my life.
What would the future bring?
The doctor thinks I have leprosy,
which is incurable.
- Come along now.
- This is humiliating. I'm not a child!
Come on.
Lie still.
There's nothing wrong
with my brain.
It sees and perceives everything
with the best of its ability.
Everything here..
Is hateful...
...unpleasant.
They pursue me like ghosts, the damned
and the doomed... waiting for their demise.
This one here just kissed his wife.
I wonder how it went...
...as he has no lips.
I toast with arsenic.
What do you toast with?
- Digitalis. Shall we swap?
- Sure!
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
This patient woman calls me "son".
I call her “mother”.
I haven't called anyone that in 30 years.
Take my advice...
Learn to enjoy laughing at pain.
Thanks, but don't roll me any more
cigarettes. I can't accept it.
- You understand?
- Yes, yes.
Suffering can quite often
have a beneficial effect.
If only she can fix it that I can go out.
I really need that.
I braced myself
and took my experiment...
...to the Chemistry Institute
for analysis.
I was asked to wait, and wait again...
A long wait.
I can't stand this torture.
Why must I run Into adversaries
who stand in my way and try to hurt me?
I have the analysis
of my chemical experiment.
Here's the analysis.
I'm so excited, so nervous...
I hardly dare open it.
The powder submitted to me
displayed the following...
Colour: dark grey.
Density: greater than graphite.
The powder Is highly flammable
and during combustion gives off
...carbon dioxide, carbonic acid.
It also contains carbon.
It's been confirmed! I'm not a fool.
That's what you thought, but I'm not!
I didn't take the experiments seriously.
The question Is If he imagines
his chemistry can support a family.
And most of all, free you...
...from your illusions.
Those illusions are dangerous,
and can end in a mental crisis.
Right away, I wrote, in a sharp tone,
a definitive farewell letter...
...where I broke from my family
once and for all.
Could I have a quick word?
Would you be so kind
as to post that for me?
What'll it cost?
That should be enough.
So now I feel like murderer
after a successful task.
I left the hospital
without being cured.
But you at least kept me
from the temptations of the world.
So there you are!
Though not quite my specialty.
Goodbye.
- Well then, my friend!
- Yes... yes.
I'm not interested in photography
in the way other people are.
I believe In the magical power of the
image, and right now I'm thinking...
...In the secret relationship between
the photographer and his subject.
Therefore I only do a same-size portrait.
Then I transmit my influence to it.
I don't know who Mr Boulay is...
...but I feel that Napoleon
has spoken to me today.
So I'll take him home with me.
Here I'm temporarily conquered...
A portrait of a dead chemist.
My dear famed Orfila,
tonight we entertain each other.
For some weeks I've been eating
at an artists' "milk-bar... *
...that are all the rage at the moment.
The proprietress interests me greatly.
She is a simple, motherly woman type.
Gauguin is a sailor who can paint.
But the other have talent.
They pay with paintings
that I don't always understand...
But I always like them.
People really like me here.
But since I don't want to be obliged
to anyone, I don't get involved.
They seem like a family,
and I'm alone.
Artistic anarchists,
nice but unruly.
Like me they're drawn by the desire
of finding a new secret.
But I just feel comfortable
with Madame Charlotte.
She's just a generous mother
for this whole family.
No, leave it... I'll do it.
Thanks.
- What are you scared of, my boy?
- Nothing. Thanks.
Artist or model?
Interestingly, she's like my second wife.
And my sister and my mother.
I know you're Strindberg.
I've heard of you.
I found out she was a sculptress
from England... and unattached...
. and I took to her right away.
I'll never forget that walk,
full of anguish and confused feelings.
Strindberg, come back!
It's too public.
Come on.
It was without doubt a punishment
for the temptation I was exposed to.
I had no right to her. I'm disgusted.
Won't see her again.
I'm dead to the world
because I've renounced everything.
Now I'm enjoying one of
my happiest periods.
I come here to chat
with my new friends.
We understand each other
quite well, don't we?
Everything's going right for me.
Unknown friends who help me.
My debtors pay me...
...80 I can buy instruments
to uncover the secrets of life with.
Lately I've been reading the bible...
...particularly the Old Testament.
But Buddhism interests me too,
as a living lesson.
Though I don't really think
I'm interested in following it.
I keep myself open-minded.
Now and again, when the gods
give me breathing space...
...I take in what's happening around me...
...and notice several surprising changes.
New trends and Inspirations
are appearing.
This century is nearing its end..
...and something is happening.
What? No one knows,
but I must be prepared.
Yes! This is true! Joy oh joy!
I penetrate deeper and deeper
into my own separate lives.
Nobody else Is even close...
Nobody!
Unbelievable!
Fantastic!
It's like an unexpected gift!
Perhaps my Innermost being is just waiting
to be put into force!
It's almost incomprehensible...
Impossible!
I've captured the Infamous smell of death
in a small bottle.
Remember my walks
in the cemetery?
Look at them. By chemistry,
I've brought them back to life.
But I've stopped,
as the breath of the dead stinks.
1 CAN control the living.
The living.
At an early stage I realised...
...I possessed the power
to influence the absent...
. such as friends and acquaintances.
And I believe...
...POSSESS...
. great unheard-of powers.
I'll tell you everything.
I felt a longing to reunite
with my wife and child...
...who I still loved.
Only a...
...a catastrophe, an accident,
could help.
I thought our daughter's illness
could be very suitable.
Children are often sick,
and mothers get worried.
Not unnecessarily, but In this case
it would be good.
My wife would send me a telegram,
like in a novel...
...and I focused on that goal.
Once when I was studying a very
interesting walnut kernel, it happened.
This can't be a walnut!
It was an image of children's hands,
pleading and praying to me.
Or what?
Is it no more than a walnut?
The unseen hand is lifted, and beaten,
falls again and again.
The unknown benefactor
who's been helping me, is absent.
The publication of my book is complicated.
My case is justified.
Suddenly, the whole house nauseates me...
I'd never noticed that before.
Out Out!
I must find out what's going on hers.
I can find no explanation.
Like with these 3 pianos.
The three of them play together
all day long.
Is it an Intrigue against me,
from womanhood perhaps?
Or Just a plot
by three old Scandinavian broads...
...because I didn't visit them?
Why must they harass me
day and night?!
The whole world, together with
the inventor of the piano, can go to hell
I can't hear myself think!
Stop it will, you?!
I'm tired and I'm devastated.
Tomorrow the 21st of February
I'll no longer be here.
I've have heard that there's a hotel
called Orfila.
Isn't that amazing?
The finger of fate, isn't it?
I had a few little things I want.
Was that all?
Was there something else?
1, Siri von Essen,
Strindberg's first wife...
...would like to tell
what happened then.
The 3 children from our marriage
had to go to hospital in February.
After they were better,
they wrote a letter to their father.
Strindberg's reply was impossible
to understand.
He spoke about the gods...
and the disgust he felt for himself...
...because he once wanted
to harm others.
I didn't want to comment,
or get involved in his troubled life.
Strindberg seems to be a person
who's always shouting about something.
This time I sensed he was weeping.
I had a really good night's sleep
last night.
A sort of serenity permeates this hotel.
Sensible habits
and no female company.
It's actually part of
a Catholiccloister.
Everything Invites you
to meditation.
So I hadn't expected THIS!
It seems I have the whole cloister's
toilet facilities under my nose.
The banality of It, in such an atmosphere
of mystery, surprises me.
6, 7,8, 11, 12... and then?
I can't move, anyhow.
I bought this
with the last of my money...
...and forced myself Into a last attempt
at producing gold.
So far, I'd had no luck.
Now this goddamned stuff
is going to come good!
Hell's teeth!
Damnation!
Stevens In New York hasn't got there.
A. 8. will be the first.
Let's see if it goes better now.
Is this bronze I see?
Not the right colour.
One more time.
Next morning.
1 felt nothing.
It was all over.
I had a terrible headache
and was nearly in tears.
I'd failed. There wasn't a speck of gold
in the precipitation.
So what now?
I've finished with it.
I've no longer a goal.
Please assure me
you heard that tool
It's clear that Providence is testing me...
And I submit myself.
I analyse my state of mind.
Since I've given up all my resistance,
I'm at the mercy...
...of forces that threaten
to tear me to shreds.
To save myself, I make notes...
...that one day I might compile
into a confession...
...that I'll call...
..."Inferno".
Next note: I go into town
to cash a cheque.
The street shakes under my feet.
The buildings too. Astonishing.
The city always shakes...
...but only those with sensitive nerves
can perceive it.
I haven't said one word out loud
for 10 days.
So my voice
has become a little weak.
I haven't said one word out loud
for 10 days.
So my voice
has become a little weak.
I must get it used to talking.
For example... "It's spring out there...
Paris is waking up. "
I must see people.
1 SHOULD see people.
But I shall be grieving
till the day I die.
My life is flowing into old age.
A wife, children, my own home...
I've wrecked them all.
And for what?
Spring, out there?
Autumn in here!
And somewhere behind the cloister walls...
...a sad piano plays Schumann's
"Aufschwung" that I remember so well.
That's it, isn't it?
Schumann's "Aufschwung”?
It's him! Popovski!
My student, my friend, my mortal enemy...
The Russian!
Has he come here to kill me?
Like he once killed me in Berlin?
But why? Why?!
Come! Come to met
His new wife had once
been my mistress.
But the coincidence
wasn't any fault of mine.
Just you wait!
So he hated me and pursued me
with such incredible malice...
...that I found no way out.
I still suffer from that last blow.
What if he's come to kill me?
I must check out Popovski's
fellow countrymen.
I know where to find the Russians.
They know everything.
- What's up? Not feeling well?
- I'm alright.
Is Popovski in Paris?
Nyet. Not as yet.
He was seen at Mercure de Francoski.
- Is he here or not?
- Maybe. Maybe not.
Maybe he's on his way here.
He's coming.
This Danish painter
is Popovski's friend.
He was my friend as well...
So he'll tell me the truth.
I was there 10 days ago, when I heard
the rumours about the Russian.
I'm here... Not there.
Has Popovski come to Paris?
Yes.
In order to kill me?
Yes... Definitely.
Be on the alert.
Get out of here!
Two days later I visited him again.
But he'd hidden himself.
I understand.
Not today.
But when?
This happened to me
on the next visit.
What message from the unknown
brings me this child.
The card means...?
I can't go in, that's obvious.
But what does it mean?
Why 10 of spades?
I don't understand.
I must add that the painter
was one of her lovers, before MY time...
...but she gave him up for me.
So he hated me.
- Have you heard already?
- What?
It's reported...
...that Popovski's been arrested
in Berlin...
...charged with the murder of his mistress
and their 2 illegitimate children.
Really? Then I'm off the hook!
I also hear he's been
released from prison...
...and that he was wrongly accused.
Meaning?
It seems he's here in Paris.
In order to kill me?
Definitely.
Be on the alert.
I warned you before.
Disappear!
Every day between 4 and 5...
then a month's time.
But I don't think I'll stay long.
Goodbye.
I'll now put the last and
bitterest experience behind me.
My beloved potassium cyanide...
...you push me gently across the border
between life and death.
It's easier than I thought.
And Schumann is no longer heard.
I'm starting to tremble.
Here's your tobacco sir...
Your favourite brand.
- Here you are.
- Thanks.
It smells terrible in here today.
As usual, sir.
The housemaids have their holiday in July.
Yes, just a moment...
Thank you.
Sleep well.
I had the first attack in the evening.
It's like a magnetic power surge...
...flowing through my body
and penetrating the nervous system.
Somebody's moved in here...
to spy on me.
Yes, there too...
It's from 2 directions!
Is he making fun of me?
Mimicking me?
Popovski! I know it's you!
He's killing me!
He's poisoning me!
I'm paralysed by electricity!
Hide me!
Police!
No, not the police...
I can't prove anything.
They'd put me in a lunatic asylum]
After 3 hours there was a second attack.
The electric current has reached my heart
and is sucking it out of me.
I'm being murdered!
I don't want to die!
Would you happen to be
an electrician?
A conspirator!
You're conspirators!
I've no idea how I got here.
But I feel I've lived... for 100 years.
It's him!
It's him!
Saint Lazare.
Saint-Lazare station!
Actually I was moving to a hotel
that was hidden away.
What I experienced there, that July,
was so dreadful...
. that I dare not speak of it.
Eventually, I left Paris in August...
After my long exile...
...I returned to Sweden,
to heal my wounds.
An old friend of mine, a doctor,
is meeting me here.
There he is, on his own.
He's wise, strong...
...and discrete.
Just the sort of friend I need.
So how are you?
How are the nerves?
I don't like the way your eyes look.
They're bad. What have you been up to?
Vice and debauchery?!
Or lost illusions?
Tell me all about it, old chap!
I tell him nothing.
I feel that HE's against me, too.
What happened to your hands?
- Chemistry experiments.
- I heard about that.
You can be on your own here.
- All on my own?
- On your own with me!
- What about that woman?
- My housekeeper.
Nobody else.
You'll soon be back to normal.
I undergo a coldwater treatment
with obnoxious medications.
And every day, the witch-hunt.
So what did you feel after that?
While I was there I was also
hundreds of kilometres away.
I saw everything quite clearly,
including how I saw myself.
- You're Insane.
- So examine my intelligence.
- Asylums are full of such people.
- Just see what I write!
What do I care about asylums?
I can explore myself in Lund.
Not a word to anyone about this!
I wonder why he's put me
in an iron bed.
Copper springs?
Inductors?
Connected to an electrical machine?
Or is it just a diabolical coincidence?
Then he placed these terrible instruments
in front of my door. Why?
What roll is this person
going to play in my life?
- Do you still read the Bible?
- Quite often.
Throw It away!
Religion's a symptom of this.
- Or a need.
- No arguments!
I'm not an atheist, but I don't believe
in the nonsense about eternity.
Throw away your Bible
and beware of the occult!
Do you know that a school for occultism
was started in Paris?
Damn them! And stop with your ambitions.
Forget that you're Strindberg.
- You have a duty to the fatherland.
- I've fulfilled that already.
- The fatherland has a duty to me.
- Drop chemistry.
Run, breathe, live!
But why should you run with me?
Because you interest me.
Could you create gold
using fire?
No.
- Could YOU?
- I've finished with all that stuff.
He lied.
Yesterday I found the fresh remains
of his experiments.
Imagine if I'd had such
perfect instruments!
Same methods...
...and he had no luck, either.
I'm glad about that.
Magpies?
Magpies?
The magpies are coming.
They're coming!
The magpies are coming?
- What's the matter, old chap?
- The magpies are coming. A swarm of them!
That I don't believe.
Goodnight.
Shoo! Shoo! Get away!
Who is it?
Electricity is coming through that wall!
At the same time a familiar voice
called the name of a pharmacist.
I wrote it down in my diary.
- Pharmacist Luthard!
- Pharmacist Luthard!
- Pharmacist Luthard!
- Pharmacist Luthard!
Luthard!
Now he's going to kill me.
The magpies fly away. The magpies
are coming. The magpies fly away.
The magpies are coming.
You too, old chap?
Yes.
Since when?
For about a year.
The sound comes from underneath me.
Under my head.
I feel I'm being watched.
It's mostly a bird.
Often a fish...
...or a man.
- Any electric shocks or surges?
- Not so far.
Do you ever feel as though
your heart's being sucked out?
No, not at all.
As though your soul
is leaving your body?
No. That's stupid.
Stop tormenting me!
Do you have any sulfonal at home?
In the cupboard
with the silver key.
Your unfortunate condition isn't
catastrophic, and you can help it.
Give me one, too.
To calm him down
and also warm him...
...I told him about those painful...
...and most difficult days of my own...
. during that Parisian witch-hunt.
Things I never should have revealed.
Right away at this last hotel,
I also found my enemies.
I was not able to identify those
suspicious-looking pieces of equipment...
...but it was clear to me that
they were part of an attack against me.
So why don't I run away?
I'm too proud...
...and one should not avoid
what is unavoidable.
Their organisation was both accomplished
and consummate. They were everywhere.
Already, seven minutes ago,
I received the first electric shock.
There's no escape.
Sir?
No! Leave me alone!
Go away!
Yes, I can see you need a bit more sleep.
Maybe you'd like to eat later on.
They've sentenced me to death.
Popovski?
On whose behalf?
The Catholics? The Pietists?
The Jesuits?
Or the police?!
It's happened before...
with the socialist anarchists.
Or?
Just my own imagination?
I don't know.
I just don't know.
Don't know the answer.
No... don't know...
My wedding shirt...
Bought in Vienna 3 years ago.
It'll suit me perfectly.
I don't need that...
Or that... Bye, bye.
Life and I are quits.
So, I'm prepared for death.
I don't know when to expect it.
There they are...
I can tell that it's them.
Yes... I'm ready now.
Here you have me...
You fools!
I'm alive?!
Curious.
Was Lill?
An attack?
Or just one of my hallucinations?
Or what?
I'll say no more.
Good day sir.
But really?
Goodbye, Paris.
Goodbye.
My dear friend, you seem to me
to be a completely hopeless case.
I'm sorry. Good night.
The magpies come.
The magpies fly away.
Since I tried to comfort my friend,
an implacable enmity has arisen between us.
My wife Frida is sorry...
and loves me.
The relatives in Austria...
...They forgive me...
...something I couldn't care less about.
But my daughter KARIN?
Happily, I receive this hint from fate...
...and I bow to it.
But my daughter in Austria
was called KERSTIN.
In Austria...
Here, on the Danube, at a place I dislike,
I've had a brief term of happiness.
This is actually where it all started.
I lived here after my marriage
to my second wife, Frida.
We often came here... to make love...
...and here we had our first quarrel.
At this spot, I once wanted to drown her...
I don't remember why.
But it's all in the past and won't
reappear... neither love nor quarrels.
Here or daughter was bom...
...and we gave her
the Swedish name Kerstin.
I haven't seen her since she was born.
Yet Kerstin is the only positive thing
left in my life.
I don't expect to run into Frida here.
Only my mother-in-law and her sister,
whom I've happily offended for years.
This man is truly Dr Faustus,
returned to life on Earth.
Just more loving, friendly, pure?...
Luck!
- I don't want to.
- No!
My son, what is wrong?
Welcome!
Make yourself at home here.
Thank you very much.
They appear to have forgiven me.
I felt very grateful...
but with a deep regret.
My little Kerstin, she's so enchanting!
But why did she run from me?
I'm your father.
August Strindberg.
And during these three last years,
you've often missed me.
Oh, I can feel your little heart,
beating against mine.
It's amazing...
One, two, thump, thump, thump!
For a man to love a child,
is to become a woman.
It's like removing the male,
to experience a sexless love.
As though we lived in heaven.
Exactly that!
I've experienced this landscape before.
And suddenly it feels disgusting...
So strange.
Is it Dante's description or my own
experience of my morbid imagination?
Or is all the same?
I've experienced hell,
but still find myself in the world.
My daughter can vouch for that.
She's here with me.
- Kerstin
- Yes, August, what is it?
There you are!
This must be hell...
Why is that rock shaped like a Turk's head?
Both the old ladies like me.
Unfortunately, they're twins...
...and I can't tell them apart.
They're so alike, that for me,
they exist as only one person.
Thank you.
Where did Frida live
when I was in Paris?
Here
- Where?
- Here!
- She's suffered a lot.
- So have I.
I know that she lives around here...
. but she's certainly avoiding me.
Won't you have something to eat?
- What's the matter?!
- What have you done?
- He hurt me!
- Come along, Kerstin.
Frida's grandmother has threatened
to disinherit them, all if I don't leave.
All the same to me.
Of course the old couple will cry...
...but that's to be expected.
It hurts me, about Kerstin...
Hurts me a lot.
Because she's the one making me leave.
But I promise you...
...you won't get a moment's peace
from me, ever!
Later I heard that she'd fallen ill,
on that very day.
This woman has been very understanding,
and offered to let me stay in her room.
This pink temple?...
It's impossible!
It would be disgraceful for
a sinner to stay in this...
...holy, innocent place.
No, no, I have to got
Why don't you stay...
You'll sleep well here.
This Isn't a room...
It's a poem to a clean soul...
. that half of us can't live up to.
And I consider this offer...
...as a gift from the gods.
And I feel... reprieved.
- What's this?
- The lightning rod. We were hit last year.
And the conductor
is set up over my bed?!
Suspicious. Who decided that?
The technician.
I recognised another fiendish coincidence.
Time and again they suck the life
out of my body.
On page 58 my fellow-countryman Swedenborg
describes hell.
"The fires of hell are desirous
of entering the world. "
"The gods awaken the desire, and allow
the damned to have it fulfilled. "
"But when the goal is
reached, everything seems
worthless and the victory
without meaning. "
There's someone. There's someone.
Isn't that it, exactly?
Swedenborg draws a picture
of life on Earth and calls it hell.
That's visionary... visionary!
With surprise, I discovered...
...his description of hell
is consistent with this landscape.
Has he been here?
I wonder? When?
And how did he regard
these miserable people?
These dark forests and creeks...
the village?
Let me finish writing this article,
so I can get money to travel!
The first attack came at 7.30pm.
The weather outside was bad... wild.
I know you're there, but this time
I don't intend capitulating!
If I'm to die today, it will be
as a warrior, unafraid of death...
...and brave in life.
So... I'm going to fight them?
Yes... I shall!
I'll fight them as Jacob fought with God.
I'll start by throwing stones,
and shouting and insulting him.
I'll disguise my voice so that
he doesn't recognize it.
That damned wind! It's too late.
But help me! Start throwing!
The first one... I
Help! I'm dying!
They're sucking the life out of my heart!
Walt! Walt! I'm choking!
I'm suffocating!
No, no, no, wait!
I'm burning! I'm on fire!
Let me out
We've been waiting for you..
- You're here?
- Yes.
What do you want, son?
That was surely Frida's voice!
- I wish myself dead, mother.
- Death hasn't been earned.
Turn off the light!
It hurts my eyes.
She spoke like my mother...
Kerstin!
I'll console myself with writing.
Frankly, I consider myself to be
standing in line with the Eternal...
...constituting an integral part
of His personality...
...emanating from His being.
And He needs me...
...50 he can reveal Himself.
Why should He otherwise have the lightning
strike the neighbouring house and not me?
I take it as a challenge from Him.
Why doesn't Kerstin understand Swedish?
Would you like a book?
This one, or that one?
All the same.
But I can't keep my thoughts together.
I'm tired, and constantly struggling
with my pride.
I get abusive... then I calm down...
seeing things in a new light.
The lightning was a regular event
for Monday morning.
Hello there...
Where do you think you're going?
No, wait...
Kerstin, Kerstin, this is important!
Strange how it has Austria's colours.
Where are you going?
To the west or to the north...
we'll see...
You're going north... That's fine...
But not yet.
The time is not yet ripe.
For some time, I've read the Bible here.
There's one place especially,
that speaks directly to me.
It's strange. It's surprising how the Bible
foretells my fate.
Saul's servants said unto him...
Behold now, an evil spirit from God
troubleth thee.
Let our lord now command thy servants,
which are before thee...
...to seek out a man,
who is & cunning player on an hap.
He shall play with his hand,
and thou shalt be well.
Amen, amen, amen, amen, Saul!
- How long have the children danced?
- Which children?
- How long have the children danced?
- Have they danced?
- How long have they danced?
- The children? I don't know.
- Could It be an hour?
- An hour?!
An hour ago, a countess down in the village
went insane.
- Is she dancing?
- Dancing?
In addition, she's terribly dressed.
So she IS dancing!
What else?
You have to say it exactly so.
Bravo, Countess!
We'd love it one more time!
Soon. First I must marry
my dead husband.
- Hold! The Countess is here.
- Good afternoon, Countess.
She was a free thinker.
Strangely enough, she once lived
in this house where you live now.
Her husband also died here.
Explain that, you doctors
and psychologists!
Or admit that science is bankrupt.
My little daughter has been forced
by evil spirits to despise me.
And after being hunted out of this
innocent, they've crept into that woman...
...who played at being a freethinker.
- Stop this satanic babble!
- Go away, and don't ever come back!
- Just get away from here!
- Just disappear, damn you!
I was driven out of Austria.
It was all I could have expected.
I didn't even get to say goodbye
to my little Kerstin.
I travelled northwards... to Sweden...
What might I expect there?
There are 90 towns in Sweden...
and of those, I chose... Lund.
Why?
There were students there
who chose me as their standard-bearer.
Others saw me as a corrupter of youth.
And there were people there
who I'd ruthlessly offended.
All in all... hell.
Moreover, I soon discovered that they'd
built a mental hospital in that town.
The first doctor I visited, confirmed
that I suffered from nervous exhaustion.
When did the symptoms begin?
Doesn't really matter.
The second one said
I had a heart disease.
The third settled for paranoia.
But put it down as emphysema.
That was designed to keep me
out of the asylum.
But in order to survive,
I had to settle down to writing.
He's once been a student leader.
They called themselves the Good Old Boys.
First they were socialists,
then nihilists...
...until they were wound up.
August?!
We've missed you here.
But don't look at me like that!
Same to you.
I've finished with all that stuff.
Where did you get a coat like this from?
- Just a couple of sinners.
- Something like that.
You're most welcome.
- Let's have a glass of wine.
- No, I can't...
I'm a teetotaller now.
- Young people want something new.
- Like with the Good Old Boys?
One glass.
They year for religion
and reconciliation with the gods...
To reclaim the spiritual world.
I think that's very important...
The contact with the spiritual world.
But you were a Naturalist...
a scientific realist.
That was in the past.
Naturalism, in Its time,
was strong and fruitful.
But some Ideas just fizzle out.
I don't miss it.
The gods want us to experiment,
and I've done that.
And the conclusion?
I return to my forbearing God.
But He is also changing.
So when will the new world come?
Do you know Swedenborg?
No, But my mother has his books.
If you could get me the books
I'd be most grateful.
I've only read a condensed version.
At last!
He's a genius!
My mother said
you're welcome to keep them.
This talented young man here,
reminds me of you.
He wants to met you.
So you're Strindberg?
What do you mean?
Just what I said.
I knew we'd come to meet.
Did you realise that Swedenborg's
been called the Buddha of the North?
I wonder why.
I've found one word... just one...
that sets aside all my concerns...
...and destroys all my fruitless obsession
with imaginary enemies.
Electricians, female
conspirators, ... practitioners
of black magic. And
the word is...?
1, a son of the great nineteenth century...
--- must always learn
at the feet of old Swedenborg.
I've learned that hell exists on earth,
and I've suffered through it.
Swedenborg distinguishes between
teaching and conflicting spirits.
He usually calls them demons.
They live Inside us... In
our back, our chest...
and they take possession
of our memories.
And they can punish us
for our evil intentions...
...through pain in the hands, the heart
or wherever we deserve it.
Here it is.
Devastated = Devastation
I sleep well. Any Immediate danger
of insanity is non-existent.
But now I ask myself...
What's left of the lessons I received
from my great master Swedenborg?
Worst of all... the battle with myself.
I know the demons
are searching within me...
...and they can only be expelled
through repentance.
Previously, I was a believer.
For several years I was an atheist.
Now I'm on the verge of falling into
religion again. Where's the sense in that?
Where does it all lead us?
That's difficult to say.
Personally, the path of suffering
leads back to our forefathers' religion.
To Catholicism?
That seems to be the case.
But Swedenborg doesn't allow that.
It wasn't that I sought Catholicism...
Catholicism sought me.
An advance of Catholicism Is starting
in England, America and Scandinavia.
And particularly in Paris.
Huysmans has converted...
Sar Peladan has converted.
You're sure to be leaving Lund
before long.
Maybe.
It looks like it.
I've asked to move into a Catholic
monastery in Belgium. Now I'm waiting.
And when the answer comes...
What then?
A new joke from the gods?...
Who laugh heartily...
while the rest of us weep.
The answer from the monastery
doesn't bother me all that much.
Today I'm starting on a new book.
Based on my daily notes
of that crisis of mine...
...I intend writing an account
which I'll call "Inferno".
And this book will be about...?
Maybe prophets who went too far.
No doubt it will be
my most painful book.
One more thing...
...my brothers.
All the suffering facing
inexplicable forces?
Shall I, in the words of Swedenborg,
advise...
"Do not do it again”.
What the word "it" refers
to, will be interpreted
by each of us according
to our conscience.
Subtitles by FatPlank for KG