3 Seasons in Hell (2009) - full transcript

It screams at me out of
every second of time,

from the leaves on the trees,
from the rubbish beneath my feet.

The sun is shining,
the birds are singing,

so keep smiling.

The only thing I've got
to say about that is shit.

Shit!

I protest! You hear me?

I protest!

2 SEASONS IN HELL

Bohemia reminds me
of a chamber pot.

With Prague at its very centre - I
couldn't shit more precisely myself



L'image surrealiste.

Are you finished?

No.

- Would you like anything else?
- Pernod.

- Still waiting for a delivery, sorry.
- Taking quite a long time, isn't it?

It's two years since the war ended.

Surrealists only drink Pernod!
Do you know why?

Because it's so cheap that even the
proletarian masses can afford it.

Of course. How about
some excellent home-made vermouth?

- I'm waiting for an explanation!
- What exactly?

You have 121 hours of absence
without leave!

A modern-day hero doesn't need
to fart around in school. Sorry.

- Everybody goes to school.
- I'm not afraid to be different.

Are you going into
the stewed fruit business?



You haven't washed your hands.

- We're going to eat.
- What I really need is to study life

- You need discipline!
- That's the soldier in you speaking.

Tomorrow you'll go and apologize
to the headmaster.

He's a senile old fart. He can't
see further than he pisses.

He's younger than me.

Enjoy your meal.

It's good.

- Dad, big changes are coming.
- Not too salty, is it?

A world revolution is coming!

- You're talking like a communist.
- A Marxist! It's different.

That Marxism of yours
is just a classic example

of how a few dogmatists
can fanaticize the masses!

Without any means of comparison you
can often judge things incorrectly!

You can't stop progress.

That's enough! My son won't be
a Marxist or a communist!

Is that clear?

- You don't know anything about it.
- Sit down! Where are you going?

Since mum died you've become
a boring old fart.

You can live here on your own!

And so our lightened heart,
its pulses pressing

Thus wills us still to love,
with the will to live.

Terrible! Classic poetry
is finished. Shakespeare, Goethe...

...and so our lightened heart,
its pulses pressing...

- How would you write it?
- Better, of course.

- What does schlagen mean?
- To beat.

Writing poems is useless.

We'll talk about that
when I'm famous.

- Hello. - Hi.
- Is it good or just okay?

My digestive system is upset
by this endless diet of beans.

You're here illegally,
so just shut up!

Do you want some more?

You're just a poser who
doesn't know what hunger is!

Tonda, what is hunger?

Lvan?

Here... you haven't eaten
much today.

What are you doing?

Writing.

Poems?

Something like that.

Because I am the greatest living
poet, I have thought about poetry.

The only real measure
are the seconds

I spend helpless.

Nice.

I won't disturb you.

I'm a poet!

Artists and individuals
must have absolute freedom.

In a society not burdened with
hypocritical morality

sex is viewed in the same way
as anything else.

Writing, cooking.

So while I'm cooking I can do it
with several guys at the same time?

Modern man assumes that everyone
has love for everyone else.

Or, rather, not for everyone,
but with everyone.

In the most concrete way.

No alcohol or visitors
are allowed in the rooms.

Wait, don't be stupid.

Pour everyone a glass.

The working class
fills our glasses!

It's the artist's duty to make
every moment unrepeatable!

What are you doing?

- Wait and see.
- Give me that!

I'm punching a hole in the fog!

- Ivan, no!
- I'm burning with desire and hope!

Everything at this moment
is intertwined - you and me!

Metaphysically and spatially.
Like a gigantic pretzel!

Happiness, freedom. That's
what happiness is, my friends!

You're mad.

That was good, wasrt it?

I'll dress it for you, sit down.

It's out of fashion anyway.

Hanes?

- The hope of world poetry!
- You bet...

I left home.

At last. I guess your Dad doesn't
like it. Where are you living?

In a boarding house.

I met a girl on my way here.

Hanes?

- Okay, where is it then?
- Wait, who was she?

Jana. She brought me
these pictures.

These?

I never saw her here.

T his one,

or this.

Imagine if they all
belonged to us.

What would you do
with so many women?

I'd autograph their diaries.

- With a wet pencil?
- Exactly. Here.

I can't give him this.

It's an original. It's valuable.

Original? It's a mess!

- I want to have it published.
- Patience isn't your strong point.

Can I borrow it?

Yes, I don't think
anyone would delay it.

You have my word.

Hi.

You can count on me.

Good morning.

I'm lvan Heinz.

Hanes Walter gave you
my poems and...

I appreciate that
such a famous critic

has found time
for my notebook and...

I'm working,
try again another time.

Next week perhaps.
But not in the morning.

And say hello to Hanes.

- Ugh, it stinks...
- Philosophically speaking,

I should be grateful to you
for this job.

We're actually participating
in a kind of existential mass.

This is what's left of what was
consumed in beauty and freshness.

This is where everything returns
to where it came from.

Here I look at myself
from above

and I tell myself: Man, this is
a celebration of humanity.

Did you know that a veterinary
professor in England

tried to prove the harmlessness
and sterility of a newborrs faeces.

With his students watching

he ate the contents of a baby
calf's intestines with a spoon.

What did he chase it with?

How's it going, boys?
Come inside for some soup.

Just two more thimblefuls,
ma'am, and we're done.

I look down
at the table's trestle.

No one knows I'm a Marxist.

I'm a bit late.

If something's in here,
then everyone's wearing it.

Maybe they're just here
as sample hairstyles.

- May I be frank?
- Of course.

These were written by a boy who
hasn't achieved anything yet.

Forget about verbal pirouettes.
Throw out what you wrote by reason

and write the first thing
that comes to you.

- So you didn't like them?
- Not one bit.

Have I made a bad impression?

You really took me apart!

That's what I call psychoanalysis!
From a single notebook of poems.

You know what? I don't need anyone
to tell me what I'm like.

Contempt is a risk of creating. Are
we going to see each other again?

I'll have to think about it.

A vivid fantasy,

a fantastic sense of rhythm.

I'm a miracle of modern poetry,
you'll see!

When I empty all my whole cloaca

the true epidemic of shock
will ensue!

You're onto something,

but you must feed the text
with spontaneous energy.

It has to spurt
out of you like blood.

And don't think,
the gaps afterwards.

- Is that a recipe?
- No, I don't hand out recipes.

That can result in your writing
thousands of pages.

All for nothing. Just rubbish,
boring and embarrassing.

But it's all about the ride. Got it?
Like a trip to the future.

Long live the revolution!

I was looking forward to
celebrations in the streets.

Hurrah!

- What's going on?
- The militia has taken it over.

- What?
- By order of the minister.

Everyone from Prague has
to move out straight away.

- I quit.
- How come? Who said so?

Don't go there!

I want to see
your authorization!

Do you hear me?

We can't allow this!

This up there!

Son of a bitch...

Where's the notebook?

- Are you talking to me?
- It's the original of my collection

You look like you need a drink.

I haven't got anything. Some bastard
spilt it all the other night.

You'd better go.

You son of a bitch!

- Stop it!
- I'd kill you if I could.

Did you hear me? Leave him alone!

Why are you always hanging
around where you're not wanted?

Get out!

I'll miss you!

We want to resolve
this crisis constitutionally,

democratically and in parliament,

The Popularfront, representing
all of the working classes...

- Hanes, this is no fun anymore.
- I get along with everyone.

I'm ideologically promiscuous,
and I'm not ashamed to say it.

Politics is evil.

Look at you, doctor. From chief
physician to foreman in a garage.

That's what I call a career!

But you're okay, thanks to me.

Physical work
enslaves artists like us.

No one can tell me any different.

Want some? The day after tomorrow,
Lukas is throwing a party.

We can pig out there.

- I'll stay at home.
- Honour to labour!

This should have been finished hours
ago! I need to go somewhere.

In Podmokly, we write with
shit on wet walls.

Shit, I'm in a hurry again.

There are more in the kitchen.

Their militia goes to shops
and takes whatever they want.

- They simply steal it.
- Which law is protecting them?

Power.

You should have seen his face!
He didn't think I'd do it.

So I told him that
only sexual perversion

leads to a spiritual life.

Many long for a life
full of passion,

but few have the courage to try.

- Few women would refuse him.
- The majority opinion stinks.

Where's Hanes?

He's not well.

Come in.

What do you expect? They
won the election, didn't they?

- No, they didn't! - But they
put the government together.

They'll make
fools of themselves.

German intellectuals spent
15 years ridiculing the Nazis.

- And what did they achieve?
- That's absurd. - But they tried!

I... we've got to alarm.
Ask impertinent questions.

Make room for...

We'll shake up those people's
pathetic farting.

They won't take
our revolution away!

Do you want to work in peace?
Bollocks! We'll bring you chaos!

You must steer people
away from conformism.

Only then will they start thinking!

Lvan Heinz - my friend
and a promising poet.

I give you 4, maybe 6 months.

Am I supposed to be afraid? After
three years in a concentration camp?

- It's just newspaper articles.
- So you won't be surprised.

- Excuse me.
- Goodbye. - Bye.

Best regards to Hanes.

There's a box of food
for you in the kitchen.

Do you have a cigarette?

Sure.

The beard doesn't suit you.

Let me guess.

You're about nineteen - at most.

That coat hasn't been
cleaned for at least a year,

so you don't live
with your parents.

Since you're taking away some food
it's clear you're broke right now.

I'll be twenty... one!

Can I touch you?

You want to touch me?

Well, and to get a little personal,

I noticed you have a nice ass.

Thanks for the cigarette.

Hey!

Friday, 4 p.m. Tomanova 6,
3rd floorJANA

Here. And drink it while it's hot.

Thanks.

In Czechoslovakia twelve
million people are happy

And in Russia
two hundred million

Only I alone
Only I alone

I am like a ratty earthworm

I am fat

When I laugh I'm like a monkey

When I look serious
my head is round

And when I put on a cap
I look like an idiot

- I look terrible.
- You're a poet. People expect that.

I should at least shave.

It quite suits you.

You've been coughing
like that for a month.

- It'll get better.
- Nothing will get better.

You're going to the doctor's.
If not, I'll call the movers.

I'll get them to engrave
on the wardrobe:

Now is too late.
Now I'm lying in the grave.

I met Jana at Lukas' place.

- What exactly does she do?
- Nothing.

She inerited some money.

Both of her parents died
at the end of the war.

Her grandfather was
the president's dentist.

Bourgeoisie?

Something like that.
You shouldn't go anywhere near her.

- What do you mean?
- I'd like to read now.

Hanes?

- What do you want now?
- What's she like?

- I don't know.
- You went out with her, right?

If you win her, you lose,
and if not, you still lose.

I don't care whether I win or lose.

I just want to play.

I'm warning you, Ivan.

This place is fantastic!

- You live here alone?
- Depends.

You...?

- Would you mind?
- No! Not at all.

Promise you'll submit

completely to everything
that happens from now on.

It depends.

Yes or no?

Yes.

You promised!

- Is that you?
- Yes.

And him?

Vincent, we broke up.

Lie down.

Are you scared?

No.

Listen to what I wrote.

He moved his hand towards her
for what seemed like an eternity.

And in that moment he travelled
an incredible distance.

It contained all future lies
and past truths.

It hid both gentleness and scars.

Until the last second he didn't know
if he would caress her or strike her

Finally, he asked her
to give him her hand...

Not now.

I won't kiss you. If I don't want to
you won't seduce me.

We're brother and sister.

And for how long?

From my Dad. He asked how you were.

Thanks.

Wait!

Two things that go with poetry
are alcoholism and suicide.

I'll give examples: Mayakovsky,

Jesenin. Verlaine...

Well, he only drank
himself to death.

Whoever wants to write poetry
or whoever wants to write at all,

- must never sober up.
- Let's drink to that!

So recite something.

Come on!

Okay.

Alone

I walk along the street, alone,
along Narodni trida.

That's it.

I don't accept that
a poem must have a point.

Oh my sweet Zizi.

Your little breasts,
your little legs, legs.

- Where were we?
- The uncertainty of the artist.

The artist is never sure
if he is on the right path.

The only certainty is
that if you get drunk now,

you'll be happy, and then
you'll have a terrible hangover.

Stop it, Vincent.

And in the morning that hangover
will assure you that nothing is free

Yeah, that's real filth.

That would be nothing in Paris!
They'd strip straight away.

Tell me how she likes it?

That's none of your business.

The main thing is to eat a lot.

Don't worry, Mum.

I'll talk to the doctor.

Goodbye.

Hello.

Hi.

Dad's supplies.

Is smoking permitted here?

Out of your hair
I will weave strings,

I will pull them
to the crescent moon

and while snow falls
and there's frost all around us,

I will be full of tenderness.

You forgot to mention that she's
an utterly wonderful, magical being.

Do you know that the role played by
the libido relationship to a woman

determines a mars
whole life line?

- No.
- So look at yourself.

You look as if
you were run over by a train.

Have you slept with her yet?

In my mind, perhaps
a hundred times.

I never managed to.
Not even after three months.

I can wait.

Once we spent the whole day
naked at the flat.

She got me excited,
but I wasrt allowed to touch her.

She stretched out naked on the floor
and wanted me to draw her.

Well, and...?

Like an idiot I sat down
and started drawing.

I don't like that jewel.

Have you had many lovers?

Which one was the best?

The last one.

Jana. Please...

Why do you make me wait?

How could I make you do
anything? I'm only a woman.

And I'm only a man!
If you get it at all.

It would be enough just to touch.

Are you afraid
I wouldn't be careful?

I can't have children.

- I'm doing it for you.
- For me?

The impossibility of fusion
with an erotic object often leads

to the sublimation of the sexual
instinct into artistic creation.

Would you like some eggs?

Dad?

Dad?

But I'd like to see some people.
Not a flock of sheep!

Look at them. They look like
a parade of complete idiots.

An idiot marches,
the party celebrates.

And then -
"Man: That sounds noble!"

That might have been true
before they invented camps.

How's Hanes?

Things could be better.

I don't think they'll look for
the manuscript at Jana's.

You don't have to
if you don't want to.

I can't work like this.

Emanuel Bonn?

The work is, right from the start,
independent of the author.

Shit government,
shit democracy and shit freedom

Shit the splendid economic
prosperity of the nation

Shit peace and shit work

Shit entertainment that's no fun

Shit beauty, shit art

Shit money with or without reform

Shit Marx and shit the revolution!

That's total Bonn realism.

Coming.

I'll appear in textbooks.

I don't have a pen. Come in...

Jana?

Jana!

Jana! Another one of your games?

I don't take it seriously, Jana.

Open the door, damn it!

Jana!

You know what?

Fuck this!

Because this is too much for me!

Stupid cow!
Do what you want, got it!

A hit! I knew you'd be here.

Were you jealous

or were you excited?

Leave me alone!

Why did you do that?

What?

You slept with a guy who stuck his
head in the doorforfive minutes!

- In my presence!
- He was attractive.

- How can you be so cynical!
- Not cynical. Amoral.

But even amorality can be valuable
in a certain artistic way.

I'm through!

I thought you would break the door
down and maybe beat me up.

Is that what you want?
Tell me it only was a game!

You can sleep with someone
at random.

Or not go home for a week.

It doesn't mean anything.

Ivan, come on!

We're not compatible!

Who was that postman?

I've never seen him before.

Stop frowning.

I'm not frowning.

You are.

Emanuel Bonn, I know who you are.

Want to go to the cinema?

Go!

- It used to be in the study.
- Well, it'll be there, then.

Did you put it somewhere?
Try to remember!

If they knew about the manuscript
they'd already be here.

- It's just a matter of time.
- This is Prague, not Moscow.

For Christ's sake, don't just
sit there. Help me find it!

To hell
with the proletarian revolution!

You can't force us into anything.
Social democracy is bullshit!

Piss off, you bastards!
Piss off!

Are you mad?

I refuse to shit myself
because of them!

Hello.

- Don't come here anymore, please.
- Do you know why they arrested him?

I'm sorry. Goodbye.

Where did it go wrong?

Were they promising something
they didn't want to do?

I wanted equality, but without
the loss of noble qualities.

I received a letterfrom
the army. I'm going to be drafted.

Wort you look inside?

You could do some illustrations
for my book of poems.

Do you still believe
it'll be published?

Move me to the window, please.

You've put on weight, Hanes.

I can see it quite clearly.

We're sitting in a restaurant
at an expensive hotel in Paris

signing an edition
of my first collection.

A girl with a thin, velvet neck
is sitting at the bar.

Herfur coat is made
from silverfox,

otherwise, she is completely naked.

I can't see herface, but
you can smell her perfume.

Are you crazy? Close that window!

Yeah, and there's a giraffe
there, as well.

- In the bar?
- It's smoking. On the pavement.

Jana, I've got stage fright.

You need a blue book, right?

Have you decided yet?

Let's say... liquid watch for soup,

then this boiled telephone
over here,

And then... a smoked penis.
A bigger one.

And wine!
The most expensive, please!

- What are you waiting for?
- I beg your pardon.

Masturbate!

Rape!

Show me your tits!

Pardon me... I insist that you
stop harassing our guests.

Your papers, please!

I fart with gentle caution
so as not to shit.

Do something!

Get ahead of him!

Stop!

In the name of the Republic!

Fuckers!

Do you know why you're here?

Here?

According to the police report

you were disturbing the peace,
you took your clothes off,

offended the investigating officers,

even tried to seduce a member
of the police force.

How old are you?

Are you?

Have you ever been treated before?

- Piss.
- Excuse me?

If you touch me, I'll scream.

That won't be necessary.

I'll show you some pictures.

Tell me what you think of
when you see them, okay?

The scent of a mailman.

Hopeless ink.

Pink, no, wait, a cooled seashell.

- Are you sure?
- Absolutely.

Sensory perception disorders,

endogenous depression,

no respect for authority,

emotional instability.

All that in combination
with his intelligence.

Is it serious?

Your son is only
faking his psychotic states.

I assume it's because he wants to
get out of serving in the army.

But maybe you could... You're
a former officer, aren't you?

This is a different army, doctor!

Of course.

That's exactly why I can't
take the risk, you see.

Goodbye.

I'm worried where I'll be
picking you up next time.

Hello.

Hi.

I found out when they were
releasing you.

Dad, this is Jana Frankova.

My father.

- Pleased to meet you.
- Heinz.

I'll visit you tomorrow, sorry.

Let's go.

Did they buy it?

A poster hangs on my house

of Stalin

in a blue coat.

In the shop window,
I see a roebuck

and electric pots.

At the butcher's there's
Hungarian salami.

It costs a thousand crowns.

Continue.

Had a quarrel with an old
woman about some rum.

Got it? About some rum
at a counter in the metro...

...she had a hole in her sweater.

You will all see...

the film...

You will all see the film
"Generous Summer"

about how they thought.

...it wouldn't work

and it works.

When you capture me, I'm yours.

The postman?

Hanes asked me to give you this.

He died early this morning.

Goodbye.

Don't rush...

What if we lived somewhere else?

Are you going to escape?

I have no other choice.

Where to?

Paris, where else?

Are you coming with me?

THIEF

- Put it in the childrers room.
- Okay. Look out!

Are you looking for someone?

That's my son, Mr. Krasa.

I see. Sorry.

Close the door, please.

Confiscation decree.

The local party cell meticulously
proved that I live here alone.

This is the dictatorship
of your proletariat.

- You still can think it over.
- No. I need it now.

Are you doing it for that boy?

As you like.
The men are waiting downstairs.

You'll pick up the money
at my place.

All right.

Let go!

Do you miss me?

Jana...?

What was there,
is not there anymore.

We'll get rich in Paris.
And look what I found.

I have a contact for a guide.

From who?

Vincent.

What do you say?

Beyond a certain point,
there's no way back.

And that point
has to be reached.

Kafka.

He doesn't live here anymore.

- Wait.
- He moved.

If you find anything out, call me.

Bastard. It looks like he ran.

- Did you sleep with him?
- No.

Anything you want to say?

And even if I did
I wouldn't tell you.

People are wrong to tell
each other the truth at any cost.

What do they hope to accomplish?
That they'll be of help?

- No! They'll just hurt themselves!
- Stop it!

I'm afraid I'm tired and
that tomorrow won't be my day

I'm afraid I'll bring shame
on my fate

I'm afraid I'm second to none
At Prague Castle it says...

SHIT

Come here on Friday morning.
I've got more for you.

Thanks.

- Longines?
- Omega.

- How much do you want for it?
- It's not for sale.

I'll swap then. American cigarettes,
tights... smuggled in from Vienna.

Think it over.
You can get any girl for tights.

Wait, that's for the car.

This was supposed to
last us three days!

We're living as if tomorrow were
our last day. Everybody else does.

Whether you stuff yourself now and
then have nothing to eat for a week

should be, from the perspective
of your values, immaterial.

You don't get it? It's only a matter
of time before they arrest us.

We're living like parasites.

These trifles should mean
nothing to you. You are an artist.

But they do!

Rimbaud slept under bridges.
He had lice. He went hungry.

Compared to him your
situation is absolutely idyllic.

Comfort kills the passion of
the soul. Re member that.

How much does the guide want?

- Ten thousand.
- For both of us? - For one.

F or one?

Shout, too. Come on!

Do you feel better?

I can sell my earrings. I'll get
around two thousand for them.

There isn't time.

What is bad shall get worse.

It's an opportunity.

You thief!

Stop her!

- I need an advance.
- No. The risk is too great.

The normal rate is three thousand
a box. Two for you.

Get off two stops before Main
Station, still in the Russian zone.

Leave the rest to me.

If they catch you with that
you'll go to prison.

How many have you got?

You can't fit more than
six in the backpack.

I can take ten.

On this black one, then.

"In Memory Of" is fine.

- Czech and German.
- German?

Yes, German.
...lN STILLEM GEDENKEN...

In gold, capital letters.

Write it down, okay?

Show me.

IN STILLEM GEDENKEN?

Where are my black shoes?

They're over there.

Do you know what that woman,
Krasova, told me?

We'll be the first to go to the
bathroom.

You're retired now
so you can sleep in. Cow.

I need a favour.
Can you hide this?

It's a manuscript for a book.
They arrested the author.

All through the war I believed
that when it ended

this would be a better place. That
we would be able to breathe freely!

It didn't last long.

Dad...

I actually came to say farewell.

I was afraid it would come to this.

Where?

France.

- You'll need money.
- No. I already took enough.

There wasrt much time, Ivan.

There was never time
for a proper talk.

I should have taken
better care of you.

Nobody could have cared
for me better.

Are you going on your own?

Don't worry. I'll manage.

Lots of people have got through.

The Czechs sit by the stove
and don't watch the border.

I'll tell you something.

In Russia in 1917 we were waiting
in the prison camp for the Czechs.

One day a Russian escort arrived.

Their commander ordered everybody
who wanted to join the Czech Legion

to step out of the line.

We stepped out.

The others,
mostly Germans and Hungarians,

didn't understand Russian.

The commander stood
in front of one of them,

a boy like you, and repeated
his invitation in Russian.

The boy didn't understand.
He smiled, embarrassed.

And the commander,

a normal guy, nothing special,

shrugged his shoulders
and gave the order to shoot.

They shot them all.

Even those few Czechs
who didn't want to join the legion.

The next day, we learned

that it was a Czech
who commanded that escort.

Those "Czechs by the stove"

can be real bastards! Remember that.

Juliette?

No more going hungry!

Jana, are you okay?

I'm tired. Sorry.

I have some food.

I'll never love anyone
as much as you.

What?

It sounds so cliche.

It wasrt easy to say.

- You're too sensitive.
- I am?

When will you be back?

The day after tomorrow.

We're very close now.

I feel much better now.

- And where are you going?
- Bystrice.

I'm going one stop further.
Smrcna.

Do you know it?

Well, of course not.
You're not a local.

- And who died there?
- I don't know.

Isn't there anything
written on that wreath?

Oh yes, here.
...IN MEMORY OF

Forgive me,
I forgot to introduce myself.

Emanuel Bonn, I am a messenger
from Charon undertakers.

Pleased to meet you.

Maybe it's for old Urban.

I'm taking it to the vicarage. Maybe
they ordered it for the stores.

Can you show me the way please?
Is it up there...?

Smuggler - undertaker.
What a masterpiece!

Wait till I tell people.

You're just like Humphrey Bogart.

He's coming with me.

- How much?
- Three hundred.

Smile. Christmas is early.

- I need to go back.
- The agreement was clear.

- Penicillin here, tights back.
- But I can't wait.

If you wait you'll get
two hundred extra per box.

- How long?
- Let's make this clear.

It's my business. I set the rules.

Did I already tell you about
the dental gold?

- I did time with a gypsy and...
- Spare me, will you?

For three days I've been listening
to your bullshit. I've had enough!

You know what your problem is?

You're disoriented. You're acting
against your best interests.

- We'll be rich.
- Fuck off.

How much do you want
to use your phone?

The operators report
all international calls.

So don't be surprised if the cops
are waiting outside your house.

Hurry up!

Maybe you'll change your mind.

Where's Lauko?

- They caught him.
- What?

The Russians are at the border.
They're building roadblocks.

Miss Frankova?

Name?

- Emanuel Bonn.
- Louder!

Emanuel Bonn.

Wait.

Are you Ivan Heinz,
born February 8, 1920?

My real name is Emanuel Bonn!
I'm the miracle of modern poetry.

A poet and a Marxist. I fight
against capitalism, fascism

and all petty bourgeois scum!

The sergeant has his ways.
You'll have to get used to them.

What were you doing in Austria?

I intended to infiltrate
the British Secret S ervice

in order to kill
the American president!

All I need to carry out my plan
is two matchboxes of fleas

inoculated with the most
virulent bacteria.

This simple smokers' kit
won't attract any attention.

Fleas can be easily hidden
and transported in it.

At the right time, I open the boxes
and release the parasites

in the immediate vicinity
of the American president's podium.

The epidemic will exterminate
not only President Truman

but his whole staff,
generals, ministers.

Do you know what's up with Ivan?

My son doesn't confide in me.

Wait!

Can we come in? Please!

And when they pulled me out of the
ruins I had to have two operations.

They said I would never
have children.

Ivan and I wanted to go to France
together. I thought you knew that.

Don't take offence,
but why should I believe you?

You don't have to.

Do you want to keep it?

Of course.

Is there anybody who would
take care of you? Relatives.

Miss.

I...

Here you are.

You are going to need sugar now.

I'm here every evening.

So if you need anything...

I can't wait long.

Go!

Face the wall!

You promised you'd be reasonable.

We'll write up a record.

Name?

Ivan Heinz.

Born?

8.2.1920

Address?

Hoffmanova 6, Prague 15.

Detainee, tell us

why you were
in the prohibited border zone.

I was at.

...Madame Morairs.
- Stop that!

What gives you the right
to detain me here? I'm a sick man!

Where did you get those schillings?

Schillings.

He pissed himself.

Connect me with Prague, quick!

Are you awake?

A dreamer who never sleeps.

Sugar?

No.

I shouldn't either. They told me
I have too much sugar in my blood.

How long have you been
with the police?

Two years.

They promoted me recently.

Congratulations.

I'm surprised you came in person.

He doesn't look like a guide.

Who knows what he was doing there?

- In my opinion he's faking it.
- Why do you think so?

Experience. But I've never had
anyone like him here before.

Yes.

Write.

A report on the interrogation
of the detainee lvan Heinz.

Persons present: Representative
from the State Police,

of the 2nd Prague Department,
Karel Zeman. Corporal Persky.

My name and rank.

Bring him in.

They say you behave like a
psychologically unstable person?

He looked bigger in photographs.

Doctor!

At 14:32 Dr. Hakl is also present.

Do you know him?

Yes.

Did you treat him?

I'm waiting.

Comrade doctor.
I brought you here

to confirm or disprove

that this man was
hospitalized in your ward.

He was at my clinic
a few months ago.

When exactly?

I don't know.
I'd have to remember.

- Don't you keep records?
- Of course, but...

Just tell us what you told me.

We admitted him in late
October of last year.

He claims to have been treated at
your clinic. Can you confirm that?

I suspected
advanced paranoid schizophrenia

which was proved during
his stay of several days.

It appears he had
sensory perception disorders.

Is he mad?

Manic depressive psychotic.

Will you sign off on that?

You can go.

Here...

These are your poems.

I thought they were
won'th a lot to you?

I didn't ask you for anything.

He bit his wrist so he didn't
have to bear the beating anymore.

You could have got fifteen years.

Now they don't think you're
a political case. Thanks to me.

Viktor Lukas wasrt so lucky.

He confessed he was head of a
conspiracy against the Republic.

He is said to have even as ked
the prosecutorfor just punishment.

They executed him yesterday.

Do you understand?

A meaningless sacrifice
for the benefit of society.

Perhaps you want to thank me now,

but you're trying to find
the right words.

Stop it!

Times have changed, poet.

People like you are out of fashion.

You should admit that at last.

Heinz, you are trying, aren't you?

Let's go.

Get moving!

We're running out.

At last.

What's new?

As usual... A celebration
of labour, a happy future,

arrests, death sentences.

I typed out
Lukas' manuscript for you.

Thank you.

You're in a good mood.

You have some mail.

- Good news?
- I'd say so.

You've got a son. His name is Ivan.

Give my best regards to your dad.

P.S. This was the most banal
postcard I could find.

- Have you read it?
- I guess so. Yes.

You read my mail?

Use the bucket if you need to pee.

There's no hell.

But people are stupid.
T hey'll always create one.

And when they're
up to their necks in shit

they again long for God,
a force majeure, reconciliation.

But fuck them all!

I don't think reconciliation is
anything we should arrive at.

Protest is what's needed.

Refuse to accept things,
whether it's God or hell.

To go one's own way.

2 SEASONS IN HELL

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