Brecht (2019) - full transcript

No! No! No! No!

Turn on all the lights and...

No, there's no way around it.
Turn on the brightest lights.'

East Berlin, 1956.

Chausee street 125.

Berthold Brecht's flat.

Even the beloved of my youth
who I was very fond of...

and who slipped away from me
because of my weird apathy...

is memorised by me like a
book character that I read about.

Bidi in Beijing.

In the Allgau Bi.



He says hello,
she says good morning.

I come right after Goethe.

That's what he said.

But the way he said it,
it was a bit pretentious.

I didn't see that back then.

Summer 1917.

The sixth-former Brecht has his first
date with student Paula Banholzer.

Finally.
He has a song for her.

Why do you say something like that?
- What do you mean?

Stumble through the hellish heat.

It's just a song, Paula.

A game.
- One doesn't joke about hellish heat.

Aren't you afraid that you'll
spend eternity with sinners...

in hellish heat, you mean?



Now you're even laughing!

But...

don't you believe in hell?

I do.

And in heaven.

I'd prefer that.

Although being in hell with Lucifer and the
sinners would be more interesting company.

Is nothing sacred to you?

You and I.
- Sacred? Us?

Important.

Something special.

I'm nothing special.

I'm nothing.

That can change.

I'm catholic.
Just so you know.

And you?

I read the bible a lot.

A nice book.
A strong book.

But also an evil book.

The Holy Scripture?

Yes!

I was so shocked that
I immediately ran away.

All the way back!
He couldn't run after me.

I was so shocked that
he dared to do that.

He apologised later.

I learned to live with it.

The fact that he was that way.

I was unexperienced in those things.

We opened an umbrella.

Then he was so glad that
he was allowed to kiss me.

Then he was pleased.

Shall we call each other
by our first names?

Eugen?

Not Eugen.

Bidi.

And you're Bi now.

Why Bi?

Bittersweet.

Bittersweet.

English...
That's how I was.

Partially bitter, partially sweet.

He chose that.

Maybe it was true.

He said it because I wasn't
willing to be intimate with him.

That was bitter for him.

I want you to be mine.

Everyone shall know.

But you mustn't go out
with another man anymore.

I think he was afraid because
of my other admirers.

He was angry and
ordered me to his room.

I sat in a corner, very shy.

He talked for
more than an hour.

He just gave a lecture.

He later told me that
he was scared I could leave.

Augsburg during the Great War.

They went to war in 1914.
Delightedly.

Brecht's friend Caspar Neher
had volunteered.

Brecht wrote a play.

His Baal celebrated life.

When a trull has fat hips
I throw her onto the green grass.

I air the skirt and the trousers.

It's sunny and I love it.

Yes!

Yes, that's the Baal.

He takes one woman after another.
- And men!

He throws them away
when they're digested.

He's like life.
It knows no morale.

Yes!

The Baal could make you famous.

You too.

I need you.

Weird.

If we died next week...

Cas, I have plans with you.

I was interested in what the war is.

That's why I volunteered.

Now we know better.
- Yes.

Death lives there.

You can see it every day.

It rips people apart.

The dead get kicked into the mud.

Eleven classmates were conscripted.

They're ready to give up their
lives for their fatherland.

Dulce et decorum
est pro patria mori.

It's sweet and honourable
to die for the fatherland.

A saying by the noble Horace.

All of you explained these
words nicely in your essays.

I'd be so glad to do my duty.

To die as a hero at the frontline.

Wiedemann.

Yes!

Sit down!

Brecht!

Get up!

Read this!

There!

The saying that it's sweet and
honourable to die for the fatherland...

can only be seen as propaganda.

Dying is always tough, whether you
do so in bed or on the battlefield.

Especially when it comes
to young men in the...

That's a shabby, materialistic
conception of man.

No ideals.

He said something that
many people thought.

Keep going.

He said too much
although many thought it.

Because many people didn't think it through.
They felt it, but they never said it.

Only idiots can be vain enough to...
- I can't hear you.

Only idiots can be vain enough to
call it a jump through the dark gate.

And only as long as they think
they won't die soon.

Shut up!

That's a mockery of
your classmates' deaths.

You ruined your life with that.

The school conference will decide
whether you can stay at this school.

Brecht, you're a disappointment.

May God help you.

They want to expel you.

I can't tell mum, as she's
getting sicker and sicker.

Eugen, what did you think?

Dear God!
- It's true.

Tecum phillipos et celerem fugam.

The Horace fled.
- You can't say everything you think!

Let your father tell you that.

One mustn't say the truth?

What do you know?

You wrote different truths
when the war started.

We Germans have to protect
our honour. Our freedom.

That's worth any sacrifice.

The newspapers wrote it.

I was proud.

Do you know what
your new truths mean?

No A-levels or medicine study.

No exemption.

A certificate because of my heart...

I won't be picked at the mustering.

No, you'll be drafted once
you're expelled from school.

You'll end up at the frontline.

There's no exception anymore.

One does his duty.
And you?

What are you doing?

I write.

Yes, you write.

You write and feel superior to all of us.

A poet.

What shall become of this?

I want to become famous.

I'll show the world how it is.
How it really is.

They left a spot for you
under Goethe and Schiller.

Yes, I'm next.

I'll be next.
I'll stand there one day.

Did you believe him?
- Absolutely.

He always said:
I'm the last German poet.

The last German genius.

Listen, people!

The story that just recently took place.

That I tell you faithfully.

Let's take a page out of this book.

Theatre should be like that.

A singer starts the play.

A clown comments.

Watch out for Hamlet.
He'll make a great mistake.

He'll be knocked out.

Look at the fat guy.
A hundredweight and flies like a pidgeon.

Look at the skirt,
they're having sex up there.

The funfair changes the people.

Be glad that you can do your A-levels.

You just got off.

They said it was the action of a young
man who was confused by war.

Others went to the madhouse for that.

I'm needed.

It's you?
- Miss Röcker!

You're back at the Brecht family?
- It's bad with Mrs. Brecht.

She can't take care
of the household anymore.

Mr. Neher!

Eugen hasn't heard
from you in a long time.

From the frontline.

Where were you?

Mrs. Brecht...
- Sit down next to me.

Eugen will study medicine in autumn.

In Munich.

My brother won't need to join the army.

I hope they'll pick me next year.

How are you?

In the sun...

some power returns.

That helps...

against the pain.

I'm more of a guest in life.

Look at that!

Raised from the dead.

Miss Röcker...
- And my father?

I think they had something going.
- It can become like that again.

The doctors checked me.
- So?

FFAS.
- Fit for active service.

What a combination of words.

That's what the marching order says.
- I won't go to your funeral.

If that's what destiny wants...
- Destiny?

Cas, the war, the bloodbath
is one big lie.

I think all of life is a lie.

I recently saw a spider.

It throws its web
from one side to another.

It climbs up and down.

It was beautiful.

How it carries that thread in its body.

A thread that takes it anywhere.

Cas!

Listen.' You still have it!
- No!

I'm a dead brick.

I've already been in a trench,
stuck under bars.

Buried alive.
- I could hardly move.

It was dark. I forgot how
many days and nights...

And when you're dead,
the worms come.

First, the rats come.

We're lying at the Lech,
in the sun.

Float through the water.

Look into the naked, hungry sky.

In the evening.
Ultraviolet.

Podsnappery is in bed and snores.

And Paula?
How are things with her?

You nosy pastor!
Gruesome!

Paula will have to confess soon.

When a trull has fat hips...

I throw her onto the green grass.
- I throw her onto the green grass.

I air skirt and trousers.
- and trousers.

Sunny as I love it!
- as I love it!

When the trull bites out of ecstasy...

I wipe away with green grass.
- I wipe away with green grass.

Mouth, bite and lap and nose...

clean as I love that!
- clean as I love that!

It's gruesome.

What's gruesome?

I have to go back.

And you, too.

Bert as a medicine
student is exempted.

Neher, we have plans!

Remember that they won't
grub you out again.

Three, four!

When the trull does the nice thing...

fiery and in excess...
- fiery and in excess...

I give her my hand and laugh...

kindly as I love that!
- kindly as I love that!

The Baal lives in an attic.

Now he takes Sophie inside on his arms
as if he had stolen her from the street, you see?

Sophie breathes heavily.

Serenely Baal says:

Can't you breathe properly?

Sophie: I don't know what's wrong.

She leans against the wall.
Baal: I know what it is. It's spring.

It gets dark and you smell me.

That's how it is with animals.
- Animals?

That shall be said in theatre
in front of all the people?

Yes!

Baal closes the door,
goes to her and hugs Sophie.

Sophie is breathless.

Leave me alone!
You're so ugly!

So ugly that it shocks one.

Baal: But so...

it doesn't matter.

Baal kisses Sophie.

Sophie: Don't! Don't!

Do you know that nobody has ever...

Nothing has ever
been where I am!

Baal leads Sophie to the bed.

They sit down.

Baal:

You have to love me!
That's what I got you for!

I have to go home.

They're waiting for me at home.
- Yes, you have to.

If they send you to the countryside again...

To hoard?
- Yes, that's what I meant.

What then?

He had a room in Munich.
I think it was in Schwabing.

He said I should lie down in his room.

He had to go to university to do a lecture
and he'd pick me up for lunch.

Dear Cas!

The Bittersweet case is
getting close to a catharsis.

It has to be over until you read this.

She seems to want it.

May God and I help her.

Bidi?

No, Bidi!
Don't!

No!

Then we went to eat something.
The dessert was blueberry cuts.

The teeth and lips turned blue.

He saw me and had to laugh and kissed me in front
of all the people because he liked it so much.

I was ashamed but he liked that.

That's how it was.

From that day on I couldn't get
rid of a certain guilty conscience.

On the other hand, I stuck
to Brecht even more intimately.

From now on our best time started.

Dear Cas, I now have
Bittersweet completely.

You have to paint her.
She didn't get her period.

Of course I wasn't even a bit careful.

It'd have harmed the fun.

I'm not a tarot player.

I can't hold my trumps back.

Come back!

I'll return.

I want to fight.

So the war won't come
to you. To Germany.

Be careful!

And return safely.

My instructors say I'm the best
soldier in the depot of recruits.

A good soldier sees danger.

Should it happen...

One letter is for mum
and one is for you.

Thanks for everything.

Be careful!

I'll write to you.

I'm scared for him.

He swims in the hero joy.

I don't like how you say that.

The enemy isn't on German soil yet.

It's about an honourable peace.

Honour, duty and fatherland.

And then?
A hero's death.

The way you look...

You don't even wear a belt.

I lost it.

What are those shoes?

I'm just a paramedic soldier.

I nurse people with social diseases.

They have their wounds
from a different battlefield.

And when the war in the fourth
spring didn't look out on peace...

the consequence for the
soldier was a hero's death.

The doctors went to the cemetery.

They dug out the fallen soldier.

With a farewell!

With trull and dog and cleric.

And in the middle of it is the dead soldier.

Like a drunk monkey.

The stars aren't always there.

A dawn will come.

But as the soldier learned it,
he accepts the hero's death.

More than two million
dead soldiers at the frontline.

More than two
million war cripples.

And 426,000 people died
of hunger in Germany.

The war was lost.

Turn of eras!

In November 1918 the empire
collapsed in a revolution.

The radical left amongst
the revolutionaries...

demanded the capitalistic social
system to be overthrown.

The young republic, headed by the social
democrats, called the military for help.

In Berlin's newspaper neighbourhood
the armed forces fight Spartacus.

What is it?
Talk!

I have to leave.
- Leave?

Our child, I...

It mustn't be born here.

I wasn't asked. I was someone
who suddenly had to leave.

The bus only drives once a day.

Yes, one really is stuck here.

I mustn't show up in Augsburg.

The shame!

And the child?

We'll find foster parents and maybe
I can return home in a year.

The child wasn't there yet and he
came at least every four weeks.

He slept in the room next door.

I went to him and he
was out of his mind.

What is it? What's wrong?
- My heart!

He was scared.

One is scared when
it comes to the heart.

He was so scared. I made
cold compresses for him.

He said it got better.
And it really did.

He slowly calmed down.

One day I'll open the drawer and
enough money will be in there.

I really thought about that because
I had never seen anything like that.

Calm down! Calm down!

Everything's fine.

Feuchtwanger! Feuchtwanger!

He's reading my Spartacus.

The man is famous in Munich.

If he suggested it
to the intimate theatre...

Yes, if he suggested it
to the intimate theatre...

Caspar Neher's diary.
March 1919.

I spent time with Bert today
and was glad.

We realised that Bert is a genius.
So am I!

We believe in our genius like
in the straw of the drowning.

The students Brecht and Neher
commute between Augsburg and Munich.

With sympathy they see the revolution
in Munich starting a council republic.

A dream of many artists.

When the communists take over the power
in the republic, the armed forces march in.

Brecht and Neher see the military...

supported by the corps of volunteers,
fight down the council republic bloodily.

Brecht's brother, Walter,
joined the corps of volunteers.

Walter, you don't have to
risk your life anymore.

Spartacus is dead.

You'd never risk your life.

No!
No way!

Especially not for
the corps of volunteers.

Get to your student flat safely.

Yesterday they stabbed a guard here.

The comrades are pretty angry.

Out!

Out!

Above Theresienwiese, enemy corpses
were lying in several rows.

They were killed quickly.

We had to watch some of us going
to the corpses and disgracing them.

The mass grave was awaiting the corpses that
were disgraced with blood, faeces and urine.

Walter Brecht told me about it in 1984.

How did he experience the
disruption of the deathwatch?

It was an incredible
blasphemy and insolence.

That's how I understood it back then.

I'd lie if I said I'd understand it
differently after all these years.

The challenge of the others
that felt pain in that house...

to cover the own feelings.

That's how he was.

20 winters had threatened her.

Her sufferings were legions.

Death was ashamed of her.

I went to work.

At 7 AM he sat next to the moat.

He told me that he had to write
the death poem for his mother.

Why don't we say what's important?

They were simple words.

Right behind the teeth.

They fell out when we laughed
and we choke on them in our throats.

Did you ever see him cry?
- No! No!

You can't imagine
that Brecht could cry?

No.
I can't.

Notebook 1921.
Front page.

Toughness!

He could laugh sardonically.

But he...

I can't imagine that.

Love is like a gipsy.

It doesn't ask for rights, law or power.

If you don't love me, I'm in flames.

And be careful when I'm in love.

If you don't love me,
my love burns hot in me.

He just came into my
wardrobe and complimented me.

He talked and talked.

I realised that
I took to him.

Then we went for a
walk through Augsburg.

He talked and talked.

Thanks for the farewell gift.

I'll talk to the directorship of the
intimate theatre about your play.

But the name "Spartacus" gives it
an incorrect political tendency.

A post-war soldier only
takes his own side.

For the wide, civil bed.

But just because it
wasn't brought up politically.

Marta has a good suggestion.

Drums in the night.

It could be by me.
- We'll pick that.

Good night.

Dr. Feuchtwanger!

It's always a pleasure to meet you.

He's a dog.
- He wants everything and everyone.

A maneater.

In his own way.

Is this real?

Living is worth it.

Yes!

You danced tantalisingly
with Mrs. Feuchtwanger.

Very sensually.

But then I ran away from her.

You came to me.

And we danced.

Cheek...

to cheek.

Very sensually.

Why did you want to
leave before midnight?

Because it's my birthday now.

Congratulations.

I'm 23 years old now.

I'm a little older.

Spiritually speaking I'm a Methuselah.

Whole libraries are up there.

And some plays that
will go on stage now.

Drums in the night!

Then, The Baal.

And before that:

The Bible!

An early work.

An early work?
You're only 23.

I wrote it when I was 15.

Then there'll be Gargei.

And...

my summer symphony.

Where did you get the fur?

A singer needs this nowadays.

Fur protects.

Put it away!

You have a weird way of dancing.

Weird!

It's more like rhythmic stepping.

What does that creep want from you?

I don't like it when he touches
you with his slippery frog fingers.

I told him I can't do it anymore.
I don't want it anymore.

So?
What did he say?

He loves me.

He does anything for me
if I'll stay with him.

I can smell him.

How he comes close to you
with his cadaveric odour.

And how it disgusts you.
- He isn't like that!

If I want him to, he leaves me alone.
- Tell him you're mine!

He knows it.
- So?

He cried.

Machiavelli with wet tissues.

You won't accept money
from him anymore!

You won't let him into your house
anymore and definitely not into your bed.

No way!

I don't like that!
- I can't forbid the theatre to him.

Not that!

But the way you sing to him...
- I'm Carmen!

Yes, but also the Mar...

I'm pregnant.

From whom?
- From whom? You!

But don't worry.
I'll marry Recht.

Diary 21st of March 1921:

I already have a child
that grows up with farmers.

He shall become fat and not curse me.

But now the unborn
already fight for me.

I can't marry.

I need free elbows.
Sleep alone. Be unscrupulous.

I'm a gipsy.

I need someone who's different.

Someone who holds me and
stops me from running away.

I'll write films now.

And a lead for you.

Do you still like me a bit?

Silly nanny goat.
I think about you every day.

Once I'm 21 we can marry.

Well, we'd need money.

We could take the boy as well.

Come, let's keep going.

Horse!

Here!

The place he lives at, with
the roadman and his wife...

Is this right for him?

They're good people.

Frank Banholzer stayed in
Kimratshofen for many more years.

He went to school here.

An older roadmaker and his
wife had taken him for a payment.

The parents only visited him rarely.

From Marianne for you.

I'll marry Recht.

You understand?

She had profuse haemorrhage.

She had to be operated.
And yes, the child died.

Mrs. Recht?

That's your name here?
- No, he brought me here.

Now you're free.

You can travel to
your job in Wiesbaden.

Nothing is in the way
of your career anymore.

Why do you want to torture me?
I just lost my child.

My child, which you'd
have betrayed to him.

After the first bleeding you
suggested an abortion to me.

You and your medicine
student Müllereisert.

I didn't want to get rid of it.

I wanted to keep it.

Look, Marianne!

This is Frank.

My son.

I just visited him in
Kimratshofen with Paula.

A clever, nice boy.

I cruelly show her
the pictures of Frank.

She cries loudly.

I could strangle the person.

The whore shall not have a child.
My child left her, as she has no pure heart.

Out of me!

Out!
Out!

Now having her used as a whore
and throwing her to the others...

You aren't mine anymore.

One should weigh this heavily when
it comes to the Marianne story:

The half Jew is a businessman, the woman is an
opera singer and the young man is a littérateur.

The businessman wants her spirit.

The littérateur wants her body.

I travel to the sea with Bi.

We take a sunbath in the boat.
She looks incredible.

Slim and tender.

I taught her how to swim.
- He taught me how to swim?

He's a liar.
A liar.

I could swim.
I had learned it.

I was 13 when I learned to swim.
Or maybe 12.

We're sitting in the cabin.
Naked.

She has a pure, natural way.

An incredible grace and
dignity in everything.

She says I seem manly when I talk.
Just like my face does.

In bed she's childish and cheeky and
at her best when something happens.

I like her a lot.

He had a lot of poetic fantasy there.

You just were on the other side of the sea
with Bi and now you're back with Marianne.

You can't let anyone go.

She loves me.
And Recht broke her.

He can't satisfy her sexually.

She tells you stuff like that?
- Yes. "Only you can satisfy me".

She has beautiful words for that.

Thanks, Ma.
- Piglet!

A little more respect!
- Talented piglet!

I want Timbuktu and a child.

And a house without a door.

I want to be alone in bed
and in bed with a woman.

At the same time?

Yes, that's the problem.

And I also want the apples from the
tree and the wood from the tree.

I don't want to use an axe.

But I want the tree with blossoms, apples
and leafage in front of my window.

Anything else?

Yes!

A servant for dunging.
- He wants everything.

Everything!

And why?

Because I only exist once.

And who's the servant?

Always the others.
- Always the others.

That love kitsch!

Big feelings.

I cried in long, long nights.

I'm inferior to my suffering.

If I hadn't found out so soon...

that you've always cheated on me!

I'd have done anything for you.

And yet you never loved me.

Marianne Zoff's note, 1921:

A great man is allowed to lie.

Lie all the time.
Why not?

Anyway, if you lie so well that you
believe it yourself, that's an art.

And who can lie in summer
when it's hot? Really hot!

Brecht can. Bert Brecht
can do anything!

On that day in September under a blue moon,
quietly under a young plum tree...

I held it, the quiet, pale love.

In my arm, as if it were a nice dream.

And above us in the sky was a
cloud I watched for a long time.

It was white...

Bronnen, you're finally here.

I saw!

I had never seen a human before.

I felt as if what would come next,
could never end.

I immediately had insight.

In that small, plain human,
the heart of our time beats.

Many moons have passed since then.

The plum trees seem to have run away.

You ask me what
happened to the love?

I only had one wish.

The feelings of students. Love!
Great love in the world...

make him my friend.

I know what you mean!

But her face?
I don't remember!

And he asked: "Love! Love in the world,
make him my friend".

A little emphatic and theatrical.

But some feelings really
must have been in him.

Yes, they were two
very different people.

But for some reason
they attracted each other.

Arnolt.
- Bertolt.

With a T at the end?

Yes, I think so.

I'm a fan of uncapitalization.
- Of everything?

Yes.
All the way!

Brecht had "Baal" ready
and my father had "Parricide".

Both were on the rise.

They were poor and
knew how to stylise themselves.

Brecht with his long leather coat...
- Bronnen, Lord of the North Ocean!

and my father with white suits...
- Brecht, Lord of the South Ocean!

or suits in general.

He was more lordly.

The two of them were
like asphalt cowboys.

They walked the streets of Berlin as
they didn't have enough money for the bus.

They walked all night long.
From one premiere to the next.

Brecht always knew
someone somewhere.

Whether it was the caller or an actor,
someone got them into the groups.

They didn't have to pay and
yet they could watch it.

In Berlin, Brecht failed with
staging Bronnen's play "Parricide".

His first own premiere took place
in Munich's intimate theatre.

Paula looks great!

I wrote the play for her.

Drums in the night.

Your first premiere,
your fame is growing.

I have to thank Feuchtwanger
that my play takes place.

Look there!
Next to his wife!

That's Jhering, the critic
of the Berlin Stock Courier.

He will decide?
- Yes.

Whether Berlin will be able to spell
my name from tomorrow on. Yes.

Spartacus?

Or the power of love?

The bloodbath in the newspaper neighbourhood,
or is every man best in his own skin?

The bagpipe pipes.

People die in the
newspaper neighbourhood.

Houses fall on them!
The morning is coming!

They're on the asphalt
like drowned cats.

I'm a pig and the pig goes home.

I'll put on a fresh shirt.

I still am alive!

The screaming will be
over tomorrow morning.

But I'll be in bed tomorrow morning.
Breeding.

So I don't die out.

Don't stare so romantically,
you profiteers.

You cutthroats and
bloodthirsty cowards.

Here comes the bed.

The great white bed.

Come!

Incredible.

Well, alright.

The 24 year old Bert Brecht...

changed Germany's
literary face over night.

With Brecht, a new tone, a new
melody, a new vision is in our time.

No, not arrived!
Just "is in our time"!

A sensational literary premiere.

The unusual success of
Bert Brecht's comedy...

"Drums in the night" was a new sign that
the real and strong always forces through.

To the registrar at the
register office Munich. Urgent!

Shorten the banns for the marriage of
Eugen Bertolt Brecht and Miss Marianne Zoff.

In their names I want you
to shorten their banns...

so that the marriage can take place
on the 3rd or 4th of November 1922.

Reason: The bride is five months pregnant.

The doctor's certificate is attached.

And the groom and playwright Bertolt
Brecht, who became famous due to his play...

"Drums in the Night" has to leave
Munich for his premiere in Berlin.

He'll then travel through Germany for
a long time to get to all the premieres.

He won't be able to return quickly without
professional interferences and high costs.

How long do you want to
stay in Berlin this time?

I just married in Munich.

Don't even unpack.

Sorry, but I need my room tonight.
- A Miss?

And me, Arnolt?

You know Helene Weigel.
- The gifted?

She currently acts at the
state theatre with Jessner.

She wants to become great!

She lives right on the other side
of the street. Spichernstreet 16.

Right under the roof.

You think I can just...
- Yes.

She's famous for her cooked desserts.

Viennese kitchen.

For one night?

For one night!

Brecht.

I see.

Do you have my bed for tonight?
- Who said that?

Bronner.

Come in.

You have a nice flat.

Do you like it?
- An atelier!

And the whole city
in front of the window.

Theatres, publishers,
newspapers, bars and cinemas.

All friends, all enemies.

Do you want to conquer
all of Berlin right away?

If you want to win through here...
- you need elbows. Made of iron.

The V"Viennese cooked dessert.

Are you looking for a place
to sleep or to have lunch?

Both.
- I see.

Brecht wasn't just imaginative,
enjoyable and funny...

but he also had the spirit of a child.

He attracted views, feelings and
touching attempts, without wanting to.

He wanted to have what
he saw or heard about.

You could help me if you
want a soft place to sleep there.

Don't you think the mattress
would be better there?

At mine?
- Yes.

All I can say is:

Sleep well, Sir.

It's cold.

No!

One blanket is too little
for such a night.

No!

On that day in September under a blue moon,
quiet under a young plum tree...

I held it, the quiet pale love.

In my arms, as if it was a nice dream.

And above us in the sky was a cloud
that I looked at for a long time.

It was very white and very far above.

And when I looked up...

it was gone.

This is how it shall stay.

What shall stay as it is?

Always a gift.

No tributes.

No tributes.

Paula Banholzer married the
merchant Hermann Gross in 1924.

She mustn't take Brecht's son to her.

My mother was refused
by my father's family.

She was stained with a mark of shame.

An illegitimate child with Brecht who, in
Germany, was seen as a communist back then.

You know better than I do.

And my mother had a seven
year relationship with that man.

That was held against my mother.

Brecht's son, Frank Banholzer, served
as a soldier in Hitler's Wehrmacht.

He was killed in a cinema
at the eastern front.

Partisans had blown up the building.

Thanks.

Now you can try out your
music in your new headquarter.

Come to me if you
want something to eat.

How did you convince the housing office?

Just to let you know, I'm an actress.

And the poor official...

accepted that he can't let a pregnant
woman walk up all those stairs.

Helli, you're just great.

The way you take care...
- Yes, I'm a useful person.

A special one.

There's no other one like you.

One you can't get rid of anymore?

I can't and don't want to anymore.

Especially now.

He shall be a feast for your eyes.

Like the father.

Madame!

The two of us are often
well-disposed towards you.

Always a gift.

No tributes.

It shall stay like this.

It shall stay like this.

Alright, be careful with the steep stairs.

It really isn't that
simple anymore.

Hello, you called me.
You need a secretary?

Yes.
Miss Hauptmann, Miss Weigel.

I was the former tenant.

Here you go.

Come!

So...

You know the English language?
- I was a teacher.

So you could teach me.
- If you like it. Really?

There's another question.

Can you write with a typewriter?
- With ten fingers.

Very well.

You'll need that.

Kiepenheuer has my back.

I'll talk to him.
He shall pay you as my secretary.

Do you think he will?
- Yes.

Well...

But...

Elisabeth doesn't work out.

How else can I call you?

Bess!
My mother grew up in New York.

Bess!

Yes, that fits.

And you fit me.

Wonderful.

And we met and I know that
nobody was there for the first year.

Feuchtwanger came, but he was
busy enough taming Berlin.

Brecht and I talked a lot.

Nowadays I can hardly imagine what
kind of partner I was back then.

They show the new Chaplin
in the Marmorhaus.

And here, I translated
the Kipling poems for you.

Very good.

How about Samson Körner?
- He'll tell us about his life.

Very good. You stenograph
and I'll make it a biography.

It could be an interesting story.

Kortner should have to read from it
in the Sportpalast before the fight.

The newspapers love that.

The Steyer plants will do a contest.

The winner will get a new car.

What is Berlin without your own car?

Bess!

We'll advertise!

Singing Steyr cars!

We drive you without any shaking.

You think you're lying in water.

Drive us!

The way his eyes follow my hand.
It's incredible.

Like his father.

His brother Walter visited us.

He had to say "Miss Weigel".

Nobody told him that he's
the uncle of our Stefan now.

And Marianne?

The wife has no idea.

He's very discreet when
it comes to family business...

Tell me the truth! You have
something going with Weigel!

Who said that?
- I was told so!

Those are lies.

Is it also a lie that you
have a child with her?

And that you always
go to her for lunch?

And that you already got
used to the new child?

Marianne, you're wrong,
Weigel and I don't even get along.

In the end you'll marry her!

Marianne!
I married you and I only know one child.

And that's our Hanne.
You got that?

But if you'll go with another man, it's over!

Do you really want to travel through the
province with that comedian Theo Lingen?

There'll be war between us!

Situation: Horrible!

Here am I, there's the revolver.

Finally, give me the Valerian!

Nissen, a nice guy, but shooting callers:
That's attempted murder.

Works right away.
It calms down.

22nd November, 1927.

Brecht is divorced from Marianne.
The court decided:

As the witnesses refuse to give evidence,
it seems proven that the respondent had...

intercourse with the actor
Theodor Lingen and that the petitioner...

had intercourse with
actress Helene Weigel.

Brecht's attempt to have Marianne
judged as the lone adulterer had failed.

Brecht!

I'm glad I finally found you.
My name is Aufricht.

I just took over the Schiffbauerdamm.

Your own theatre?
- Yes.

Congratulations.
- Thanks.

But I have a little problem.

I have no play to open with.

One beer, please.
- Sure.

Thanks.

Joe Fleischhacker.
That's your play.

It takes place in America.
At Chicago's wheat stock.

We'll show the speculation
with the world's bread.

The crimes of capitalism.
- The wheat stock on stage, I don't know.

It's theft.
Exploitation of the poorest.

Look, Aufrecht,
it's like the theft of wages.

The businessmen take the
profit that the workers create.

I thought about something else.

The first crime
that all others stem from.

I need something entertaining.

I might have a little side
achievement I'm working on.

I'm working on it for fun, you see?

Beggar's Opera.

What kind of book
did you have with you?

Beggar's Opera by John Gay.

An opera for beggars?

To be precise,
it's the opera for beggars.

Beggar's Opera?

The play is 200 years old.
Yet it still is a sensational success in London.

You're breathing incorrectly.
Dr. Schmitt told you!

The residual breath has to get out.

What is the play about?

Personnel. Whores, beggars, thieves
and a lawyer who's their concealer.

Everything's about money?
- Lies and fraud.

Very nice.

What is it about?

Peachum started a
beggar empire in London.

He takes whatever
he finds on the street.

The self-employed craftsmen of
the beggars, the talented ones.

His organisation gives them
exact locations in the city.

The company gives
them masks and costumes.

A company and his employees.

He owns the resources
and he exploits the beggars.

There's an interesting character.

A certain MacHeath.

A robber who's drawn towards
beautiful women and prostitutes.

He lies and cheats on one with
another and the second with the third.

But then a real robber
gets into his way.

And he steals his daughter.

That's good.

That smells of theatre.

That's what the Beggar's Opera is about.

The civil lifestyle of criminals.

And the criminal lifestyle of the citizens.

The love that citizens feel for
robbers in novels and cinema...

comes from the mistake
that robbers aren't citizens.

And that comes from the mistake
that citizens aren't robbers.

Aufricht?

You'll pay these peanuts, right?

Wait!
When can I read it?

Tomorrow afternoon you can have
the first scenes picked up at mine.

Spichnerstreet 16.
Right under the roof.

Thanks.

First act, second scene!
A robber is just a sentimentalist as well.

MacHeath wants to
celebrate his wedding.

In white. The bride
demands that. The innocence.

It's already gone.

Yet he needs a bridal bed.

The nicest day in the life of a woman.

All that is needed...

The great feelings.

The operas sing it all the time.

You learned it.

Puccini.
Yes! Exactly!

That's what I mean!

Here's the moment of great empathy.

The old theatre shows what it can do.

The love kitsch.

The pit closes its eyes.

They swim away in the boxes.

And now we cut it open!

We show how fleshy
the civilian love is.

The wallet and the
filled seminal gland.

That's the basis.

Brecht, you're a materialist.
- Yes!

And from the bottom to the top,
there's a loving heart.

But the robber has no marriage
contract in front of state and altar.

And when you have no papers from the
register office and no flowers on the altar...

love still remains.

Or not.

Very good.

That should be sung as a
duet of the loved ones.

Weill has to make us
the music for this.

I'll convince Aufricht.

Love persists...

or it doesn't.
- or it doesn't.

At this...

or that place.
- or that place.

Brecht will include many songs.
- Light!

I'll therefore put a gigantic
fairground organ here.

I'll decorate the pipes with putti.

The music shall get out of
the ditch, that hiding place.

The musicians shall
not remain invisible.

They'll be right here under the organ.

Everyone shall see everything.

Everything far above
the heads of the actors.

Just like in circus.

And that's how the alterations
shall take place as well.

Yes! And here will be
a half-height curtain.

Behind it the alterations
will take place.

Almost visible, almost open.
We emphasise that this is just theatre.

Weill will make the music.
- Weill? Kurt Weill?

He makes that strict
atonal cacophony.

He'll make my audience run away.

No cacophony!
- Weill will make us snappy music.

Sophisticated, catchy songs.
With style.

Don't you want to take
over the whole theatre, Brecht?

Weill has found a new tone.

He underlines sentences
with his music.

It makes you think!

The troops live under
the cannon's thunder...

From Sind to Cooch Behar...

Moving from place to place
where they come face to face...

With a different breed of fellow
whose skins are black or yellow...

And quick as winking chopped them
into beefsteak tartar!

That's good.
I like it.

My wedding with Miss Polly Peachum
will take place in this horse bam today.

She followed me out of love.

To share the rest of my life with me.

Operetta from bottom to top.

All of this is way too cute.

Paulsen, tell me this:

The blue ribbon...

What about it?

Could you forgo it?
- I'd rather forgo this role.

I don't have a proper appearance
in the beginning of the play.

You have to write something, Brecht.
So everyone knows who's the lead!

Fine.

Let's do him the favour. Weill and I
will introduce him with a bloody ballad.

He'll sing about his crimes.
Alright. With the blue ribbon.

That's nice.

Oh, the shark, babe,
has such teeth, dear...

Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth...
- Yes! Yes!

and it shows them pearly white.

Just a jackknife has old MacHeath,
babe...

and he keeps it, out of sight.

That's good, Weill.
That's good.

A nice, ironic contrast.

The tenderly sung "jackknife".

The word could be sharp as well.

So that it cuts.

Just a jackknife...

And he keeps it, out of sight.

It'd be better if Gerron
sang the song as a balladeer.

Right in the beginning
on the Soho market.

Paulsen will be glad about that.

Paulsen!

Operetta Paulsen sneaks onto the stage
and hears how his crimes are sung about.

To the ramp!
- Yes!

Oh, the shark, babe,
has such teeth, dear...

and it shows them pearly white.

Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe.
And he keeps it, ah, out of sight...

The troops live under
the cannon's thunder...

Moving from place to place,
where they come face to face...

With a different breed of fellow
whose skins are black or yellow...

And quick as winking chopped them
into beefsteak tartar!

The newspapers
predict 500 shows.

500 shows in Berlin.

Now you've conquered the city.
- This means fame.

Cheers!

What about Munich?
Leipzig? Dresden?

Hamburg? Cologne? Königsberg?

What about London? Paris?
- New York?

And Moscow?

All in white.

Brecht and Helene Weigel with
their children Stefan and Barbara.

They're in their own summer
house on Lake Ammer.

Brecht's and Marianne's daughter
Hanne is sometimes there as well.

Brecht?

The poet Bert Brecht married
Berlin actress Helene Weigel.

It's against the deal.

Burdens were placed on you that can
only be placed on the safest shoulders.

You were overlooked
like the most obvious.

One expected a
special insight from you.

Like those who eat last are
those who are closest to it:

The chefs.
- The chefs.

I know that very well.

So don't put your name on the
never ending list of apostates.

But that's how it is.
It was that tough.

It was tough.

For everyone.

Especially for those who
were always there.

Right?

How could this be described?

But he was someone
who wanted to own.

Who wanted to own people as well.

He always had a circle around
him of good friends and women.

He didn't like to give that away.

Marianne Zoff and her daughter Hanne.

After she divorced Brecht,
she married Theo Lingen in 1928.

The popular actor managed
to get his Jewish wife...

her mother and Brecht's daughter
through the terror of Nazi Germany.

Goebbels needed the popular comedian
for his entertainment cinema.

Those faces!

Maxim Gorki's novel
"The Mother" in cinema.

A film by Pudowkin about the
prehistory of the Russian revolution.

That'd be a role for you.

I'm way too young for that.

Pelagea Wlassowa lost
her son in the battles.

She takes over the
flag of the revolution.

How they were hunted
on the 1st of May!

How they were shot at.

Right in front of our eyes.
In front of the Liebknecht's house.

It was rough.

I'd never have thought it possible.

They shot down all
the demonstrations.

The newspaper said
that 20 people died.

The social democrats killed them.
- No Helli, I meant...

how real it suddenly was.

How close.

Hyperinflation, financial
crisis, mass unemployment.

All the suffering under the shining
surface of the Weimar Republic...

is seen as a necessary
crisis of capitalism by Brecht.

The writings of Marx, Engels
and Lenin opened his eyes.

Together with Günther Weisenborn,
Brecht edits Gorki's novel for the stage.

After the death of her son, the
mother takes over the leadership.

She learns everything the Bourgeoisie knows.
Almost expropriating it.

She realises the connection between possessing
the resources in the factories and exploitation.

That way she takes over the lead.
Becomes a mother for all sons.

What's the problem with communism?

It's sensible,
anyone can understand it.

It's easy.
You're not an exploiter...

so you can grasp it.

It's a good thing for you,
find out more about it.

The stupid call it stupid...

And the squalid call it squalid.

It is against squalor
and against stupidity.

But we know:
It is the end of crime.

It is not madness,
but the end of madness.

It is not the riddle
but the solution.

It is the simple thing
so hard to achieve.

After Hitler took over power, and the Reichstag
was set on fire, the first waves of arrests started.

Friends warned Brecht about an arrest.

Helene Weigel was also in danger.

For the Nazis she was
a Jewish Bolshevik.

Your passports, please!

Elisabeth Hauptmann put her son
Stefan into the plane to Prague.

Daughter Barbara was brought to her
grandfather in Augsburg.

A great police action has just started.

In several areas, from the basement
to the roof and through all flats.

It's checked for example, whether
the people are politically wanted.

A lot of patrol cars with policemen
and machine guns come closer.

An incredible sensation. A fear of communism
started amongst the social democratic officials.