Landscape After Battle (1970) - full transcript
Film opens with the mad rush of haphazard freedom as the concentration camps are liberated. Men are trying to grab food, change clothes, bury their tormentors they find alive. Then they are herded into other camps as the Allies try to devise policy to control the situation. A young poet who cannot quite find himself in this new situation, meets a headstrong Jewish young girl who wants him to run off with her, to the West. He cannot cope with her growing demands for affection, while still harboring the hatred for the Germans and disdain for his fellow men who quickly revert to petty enmities.
THE LANDSCAPE AFTERA BATTLE
Quiet everyone!
The commander understands that
after what you"ve endured here...
you must hate your tormentors.
But we American soldiers, and you
the people of Europe...
have fought together so that law
might prevail over lawlessness.
We must respect the law.
You must understand that all those
guilty will be punished.
Be patient.
The commander gives you his word
of honor that they...
will be punished.
Remember, you are
free men now...
and you"ve got to live under
the rule of law.
The commanderthanks you
foryour help...
and wishes you all the best.
He hopes you will soon find
your families...
close friends and sweethearts.
He believes you will all
find happiness too.
Here they come!
They"re coming for us!
Attention!
The war had ended and the
year 1945 passed...
while they were kept behind
barbed wire.
The victors feared these people
and guarded them closely...
so they wouldn't misuse
their freedom.
They were hauled all over Germany...
until finally arriving at
former SS barracks...
where one of the numerous American
refugee camps was located.
You know what, sir?
The Germans are a practical
and ingenious people.
From regular skin they made
book bindings.
Moisture resistant.
And from tattooed skins...
lampshades.
Lieutenant lampshade!
Don"t make me laugh, it hurts!
Cut it out, God damn it!
Polish infantry marches well...
with Polish officers.
For five years they marched in
fives in the prison camp...
nowthat they"ve rested, they"re
marching again.
This time in fours, led by officers
not prisonertrustees.
They know howto teach marching...
but not how to teach the cooks not
to steal food for German women.
So you"re saying I do it, huh?
Whoever"s got kitchen duty ought to
make sure they don"t steal.
Will the cook steal, the
officer wonders...
for the German woman
who"s expecting?
They"re cooking with coal again!
The sons of bitches have electric
stoves, boilers...
What are they cooking?
Dinner forthe officers.
We"re all supposedly equal,
but only when...
marching to Mass...
not to mess.
How do you like this inspector?
He knows what it"s like.
And you?
You read books, but we"re talking
about food here!
His type kisses the colonel"s ass
until he gets a promotion.
Lay off, you Bolshevik runt...
and if you don"t like it, then
get out of the army!
Stealing, stealing... Stop yapping
if you haven"t caught anyone.
Agood dog doesn"t bark, he
catches and bites.
That bastard"s listening
to Warsaw again!
L"II take care of him.
Life is wonderful.
We sit here, locked up quietly and
safely, like with the Germans.
They steal like always.
Everything"s in order.
You can"t leave or they"II
shoot you.
Three Polish submarines returned
to Gdynia yesterday...
the Rys, the Zbik and the Sep and
the sailing ship, Dar Pomorza.
It carried a group of repatriates,
mostly women...
from Ravensbruck.
Most of the crew had served on
the ship before the war.
Former wanderers, give to the
fund for those...
returning from the west.
Breakfast! Hey Gypsy, want
some bacon?
Are you going to mass?
You"II pray a bit, write an article
forthe bulletin and...
Father editor will feed you.
Have a look at the babes, they"re
bringing in a transport.
If you put your mind to it, you
might just get lucky.
You"II talk to the archbishop
in Latin.
- He"II talk of patriotism, honor.
- L"II talk of fleas and goulash.
We"ve all had different experiences
with the bishop.
During Mass, he"II be thinking
about God and country...
and I about goulash.
We both hold each other
slightly in contempt.
I bet you"re in a hurry to mass
and then to see...
"Grunwald," right sir?
No.
L"m going to inspect the kitchen.
But if I don"t find anything...
Too bad the Germans didn"t
finish them off!
They love their country very much,
but full stomachs even more!
How stupid I was!
I kept this rabble alive
in prison...
fed them, risked my neck forthem...
stole food from the
stupid Gypsies.
Hey barrack boss, quit bragging.
I know how it was, you stole bread
and butter for yourself...
and soup forthem.
Who gave them a place
in the barracks?
Clean bunks, clean blankets and
straw in the mattresses?
Would they"ve survived otherwise?
Remember the colonel and his mill?
Brotherhood...
at war"s end while he grinds,
fries pancakes...
and runs to the latrine.
Now he"s important!
Colonel, colonel, aims for power,
colonel, mills his flour.
Let one nail drive out another.
We'll give you...
Poland, yes brother.
It"s my poem, sir.
Good, isn"t it?
L"m surprised, an intelligent
man writing such...
nonsense these days.
Orders are to maintain discipline
and not cause trouble.
Troublemaking will be
the end of us.
You"ve read too many
emigrant books.
Now you eat hot soup and
feel up German girls.
You Communist bastard...
Don"t like the new Poland, eh?
You"d like it to be otherwise, sir,
so you could carry the flag?
- Did you know how to govern?
- Go ahead and join them!
Don"t worry, I will, but I want to
make sure I remember you.
L"II be waiting foryou.
Who knows if you"II make it,
you Communist spy.
Take it back!
Go on!
Now l"m going to give you
a tattoo.
Listen to this!
I never smuggled into Warsaw, nor
was I seen at posh cafes...
Leave that alone!
Give it!
I wrote my poems not for fame,
but because I had to.
My friends knew death, knew its
name, I even lost one ortwo.
While I wrote of Libert and Staff,
of epithets and rhyme.
And such a life, of love and verses
empty, bland, and spineless.
All would not have been lost had I
only killed a German too.
Time to go cook something to eat.
To the rear, march!
Don"t you how it"s done?!
Overyour left arm.
Extinguish that fire and
get out of here.
You"II burn down the barracks.
Cooking like this is forbidden.
Poles don"t do this.
Get out of here.
Give me more to eat, you son of
a bitch, and I won"t cook.
You think this tastes good?
Try it!
See there?
If you didn"t steal,
I wouldn"t cook.
You eat up all our butter but short
me a few pancakes?
Don"t insult me, you know
you"re not right.
Wouldn"t it be better to get
some fresh air?
When you eat our rations and steal
meat for German girls...
then fresh airfeels good.
But I like it here.
If you don"t like the smoke,
you can leave!
You might like it better
somewhere else.
Solitary confinement.
Let"s go!
- What an SOB...
- Take him to lock-up.
Yes sir. L"II tell the sergeant...
that he tried to beat up a
policeman, and then...
l"II get some bread and sausage and
find some blank mail forms.
That"s enough! Get him
out of here!
Don"t you try escaping or
l"II break every...
bone in your body.
L"m sitting in this cell again
for cooking pancakes.
General, the men are ready
for Mass!
Salutations men!
Hey buddy...
What?
The book!
Listen...
why are you doing this? I know
you"ve been here before.
You can always come to me and
get something to eat.
There"s goulash today.
It is written, "Not by
bread alone..."
Exactly, and you keep stuffing
yourself for no reason.
You get the standard ration,
like everyone.
You"re free now, understand?
Why the camp obsession? Let"s go.
I know your poetry. It"s good.
I wonder who gave them to you,
our editor priest?
I got them, let"s go. I wheedled a
pass out of here.
I asked who the hell gave
you my poems?
What son of a bitch?
Look...
forthem, that platform is a stop
on the way west.
Forthose whose bones
lie in the pond...
it was the terminus.
God who has Poland...
wrapped through endless ages...
in her fine glow of...
power, might and glory.
You who've protected...
her with your mighty shield...
from all misfortunes...
meant to break her spirit.
Before your altar...
we lay down our prayer...
our free homeland...
return us Our Lord.
You didn"t run away...
from our divine, national
miracle play.
From the souls of the dead, you"re
crafting a flagpole.
The mystery play is over.
From spiritual lethargy into the
living body of the nation.
That Jewish woman ran aay from the
living body of the nation.
They crossed overthe border
from Poland.
And found fallow land here.
The bitterness of a cow
disappointed...
with the pasture.
Where is our meadow? We"re
from the same home?
We"ve met again in one home...
That belonged to the SS.
Our ascetic national body, Polish
mistletoe on a German oak.
How are things in Poland?
You think l"m a passenger who...
preferred to get off the
"Red" streetcar?
Have you heard thatjoke?
That"s not the reason.
What do those bitches want here?
What are they looking for?
Two million babes like that went
up in smoke here.
I had a buddy in the special unit.
He was one of those who
burned the corpses.
I asked him once, why he was
in such a bad mood.
He told me his father had been
sent to the camp.
We wanted to talk to him...
but the officer shouted...
so he told his fatherto go wash up
and that they"d talk later.
Later he pulled his father"s body
out of the baths...
and loaded it into the furnace.
He really didn"t have any
reason to be happy.
Excuse my poor English.
Do you know the crematorium tango?
Why are you so sad?
What do you care?
Get lost!
Afraid of an altar boy?
You"re an altar boy like
l"m a nun!
Stop it...
So this is how it is here? Mass
out front, while back here...
l"d never last here.
- You could get used to it.
- To what?
To stealing food, to cooking?
This is still detention; neither
prison, norfreedom.
We are a great moral force.
Moral?
Yes, yes, moral.
But people want to eat.
Aman must eat and have a woman.
People were hungry for
so many years...
yearning for bread so long...
for that first woman.
Those are basic things.
And neither Mass nor "Grunwald"
will change that.
Get lost!
You stinking bums! What"s
so funny?
You"rejust like them!
You"re no better!
Let go of me!
What do you want from me?
Maybe we could escape to some
deserted island.
But could I really?
In our world, does everyone
answerfor themselves?
It"s not my fault the
world is evil.
I don"t want to die to change it.
I just want to live.
Didn"t you ever want to
escape from here?
Not for bread or a woman, just
simply to break free.
I was afraid of the guards.
To survive so many years then
die afterthe war?
No, that would"ve been
too grotesque.
So you were afraid, right? You
were scared, that"s all.
What could you know of fear?
You don"t know what fear is.
Once...
once we were marching in the camp,
the orchestra was playing...
In total there were nine
thousand men there.
Near evening, they brought in a
large group of naked women.
Their arms outstretched,
they pleaded...
for us to save them...
forthey were going to
the gas chambers.
None of the men moved, not a
single hand was raised.
Nine thousand men.
We all wanted to live.
Because the living are always right
and the dead always wrong.
We"ve caught a thief!
AGerman in the kitchen!
Get away, you beast!
The camp cooks will never
get out alive!
The swine was stealing, father!
And committed adultery!
Calm down, my children, calm down.
Do you not have God in your heart?
Let"s break it up!
Let"s escape!
You"re brave, fearless. I wish
I were like that.
Maybe we could go for a walk?
But outside the camp.
L"ve never been outside. But I
won"t get far with you.
- Let"s go.
- Not yet.
I have to go see the priest...
and give him my poems.
I told him it wasn"t the cook,
but that one...
He won"t let us listen to the
radio, yours... ours...
not Warsaw, not London.
Why did you run away from there?
Why are you still in this camp?
Don"t you want to go on?
Why"d you escape from Poland?
Because of fear?
It wasn"t fear at all.
I ran away from love.
Funny, isn"t it? Tell me
that it"s funny.
You said something about a walk?
So when do we go overthe wire?
Or if you prefer...
into the woods.
I haven"t told you how we made
soup in the camp.
Rails led from the crematorium
to the pond where...
we used to dump the bones.
Sometimes we"d catch a fish
and eat it raw.
And from that greasy water, soup...
No... no...
Write a poem about me.
I may not be a muse, but
l"ve got freckles.
I don"t write about freckles.
What are you laughing about?
Help me find my glasses.
How do I look?
Since freckles are out, write about
my hands, or my hair...
All right, I can write about a hand.
- What"s that?
- My name.
Why are you called "105?"
Because it"s short and beautiful. A
low number was ennobling.
It meant you"d been there longer
and could be a functionary.
About hands and hairthen...
Will you describe me in parts?
How else am I going to write about
a monster like you?
I don"t think l"II ever write
another poem again.
Poetry is as unreal to me as
the touch of noise...
the sound of shape.
You must have a last name.
The war is over.
Don"t bother, that can"t
be kissed off.
It"s fine, professional
German work.
L"II take it to my grave.
- What was that about poetry?
- I don"t remember.
Who"s that?
Pretty.
- Very... and that hair.
- Beautiful.
I remember it on my face,
the way it smelled...
How do you know her?
L"m not certain, but I think...
I think she was the one who beat me
at Gestapo headquarters.
I didn"t have my glasses on.
I think she leaned over me and I
remember smelling her hair.
Why didn"t you want to come here?
You have to learn how to walk all
over again, in the streets...
in the park, among people.
Shall I teach you?
L"d forgotten there were
places like this.
Do you think you could love me,
in spite of everything?
- Why the qualifier?
- Could you?
I think the measure of poetry,
and maybe religion...
is its ability to awaken love.
Love, yes, love.
Unfortunately we are doomed to
venial experiences.
What a...
What a false measure of things.
Why do they say, "golden autumn?"
It"s red.
Because this is an oak autumn.
The oak is a noble...
typically Nordic...
Old-German tree.
I prefer chestnuts, then.
Bach.
Stop it.
I didn"t have time for music
before the war.
It was only in the camp that I got
to know and like it.
But we had the best orchestra
in the world.
The Germans brought in the finest
musicians from all of Europe.
It was great...
we"d march off to work each day,
by the thousands...
and the orchestra would
play Rosamunde.
And each day about 100 people
wouldn"t return to the camp.
If you could play the cello well,
even if you were a Jew...
you could survive.
What"s he doing?
It was so lyrical, and suddenly
a rat showed up.
Germans are a musical and
provident people.
We talk of autumn, but it"s winter
soon and they"II need firewood.
Look there"s another rat...
soon they"II start to fight.
No, I see they stick together.
They"re solid in every situation.
Don"t look at them like that! They
were in Warsaw too...
But they wore different caps!
And weren"t so sneaky.
There"s nowhere we can hide.
They"II find us everywhere.
What"s he talking about?
Listen carefully. That"s the
language of Goethe.
How beautifully he speaks, so
soft and imploring...
it"s even hard to understand.
I was taught a different German and
I had to listen at attention.
He wants us to give
him a cigarette.
He"s sorry for bothering us. He
says you"re beautiful...
and that that"s the way life is,
that he now...
has to beg cigarettes.
Stop it! He"s an old man!
What are you doing?
Here"s his cane. You know what
you can do with it?
You can catch someone and...
Stop it, it hurts! Give it back
to him right now!
Don"t worry, l"m not a blind man
nor a garbage picker.
L"II give him back his cane.
What do I need it for?
- Why"d you run off?
- Don"t touch me!
You were like a wild man, with
this mad look on yourface.
I was only joking, forgive me.
L"m glad you"re here.
Take me in your arms and
hold me close.
Don"t look around.
- Why"d you escape from Poland?
- Why"d I escape?
- You"II just laugh.
- No I won"t.
For six years I was a Pole,
a Catholic...
who went to church each Sunday.
Before she died in the camp, my
mother gave me a missal.
- I remember the dedication...
- "To my beloved daughter -Mama."
How'd you know?
Go on.
I had a different name then, after
all, I don"t look Jewish.
You look like an Aryan.
It"s scary.
What about love? You said
you"d escaped from it.
That"s right.
For six years I was in love
with a Catholic.
He came from a very good family,
except that...
Hear me?
Are you listening?
The Germans left, hejoined the
army and I wrote him...
telling him I was Jewish.
It was very easy.
And you ran away before
he wrote back?
I suppose you don"t like
Jews either?
They"re shipping us
farthertomorrow.
More camps, strange faces...
It"s all so repulsive.
I can be Jewish, but only
for myself.
L"m terrified l"II end up
in Palestine.
Settled in some Jewish village,
milking cows and collecting eggs...
I don"t want that!
You think that Christ would"ve
been a good soldier?
More likely a deserter, like many
of the early Christians.
What a lovely inscription.
Bleeding morning star, you shine
on my untimely death.
Yes, pretty... flowers, poetry...
What are you doing? Scaring
people in church?
We have to get out of here. Perhaps
go west somewhere.
We can live normal lives.
I really am free.
- And that guy in Poland?
- L"II forget about him.
You haven"t yet.
I haven"t met anyone else.
Come on, you dummy...
It didn"t smell.
What are you talking about?
Her hair.
I guess it wasn"t her.
Stop thinking about it. To live,
you have to forget.
We"II leave and then go
to university.
- Are you afraid?
- It"s not fear.
Wherever we go there"II be fear.
L"ve heard them scream in fear
in all sorts of languages.
You said you knew how to forget
and start all over.
That"s what you said. L"d like
to, but I can"t.
- Besides, it"s notjust that.
- We"d go to lectures.
- At the Sorbonne, I suppose?
- Yes, both of us, together.
- I can"t speak French.
- You"II learn.
I can learn any language
you like, but...
l"m always going to think
and feel in Polish.
But we"II be together.
And we"II listen to some old
Sorbonne professor...
lecturing in French about
the vicissitudes...
of our literature.
And after classes we"II go
back to the hotel...
and lead political debates on
our nation"s mission.
We"II squabble out on the
Parisian streets.
And when we"re old, they"II put us
in an old people"s home.
L"II write my bitter poems...
and paint the faces of friends
who have long since died.
In a word, we"II be immigrants.
Stop it.
What"s wrong?
I was afraid too, you know?
I was involved in 28 roundups.
I bet you don"t...
know what they are.
We had a hiding place
behind the closet.
Little children learned that
when the Germans...
came into the house...
they said not a word,
they were silent...
and simply stared with
eyes wide-open...
To live, you have to forget!
It"s marvelous! Life is marvelous!
I love you! I adore you!
Come on.
Let"s leave, OK?
If we leave here, no one
will give us food.
And we"II be caught by those black
apes in the white helmets.
We"II end up in another camp where
we"II die of hunger.
You promised me we"d leave and
that we"d go to university.
What would I write about there,
and for whom?
Everything that made me
who I am, is Polish.
I can"t erase that, and
I don"t want to.
You think that homeland is
just a landscape?
The same meadows exist in Poland,
but so what?
So what?!
So what is this homeland of yours?
Ours.
I don"t know.
I guess it"s mostly people...
traditions, language.
This language we speak and which
we understand the best.
We share that for sure.
We can"t have that alone, or even
just the two of us.
All the rivers there
will be strange.
So you"re going back to Poland?
You only wanted me for a day,
like all of them.
- All of them?
- That"s right.
Those for whom l"m a Jew.
See this?
Unlike the others, you never
asked what it was.
They"re the tablets of Moses. The
commandments in Hebrew.
This is supposed to link me
with the Jews.
But l"m neither a Jew nor a Pole.
- They threw me out of Poland.
- You said you escaped.
I think Jews are repulsive!
I thought there were still
other people.
But you"re not a person,
you"re just a Pole.
So go back to your Poland!
Return to your Poland!
Leave me alone!
Are you going back?
Where"s the German girl?
I don"t know. She went home.
Wearing your pants?
It just worked out that way.
Coming?
To Poland on foot? You"re a
hell of a guy!
- Coming or not?
- You know, I...
Now you"re going to say...
that there"II be no food, that
things need to stabilize...
You"ve found a skirt, that"s what!
What have you got here
besides her?
We"re going back to the camp.
The camp"s closed. They
wouldn"t let me in.
Go ahead and see foryourselves.
See you in Poland.
L"II be waiting!
See?
They know the way out and they"re
fleeing like rats, and us?
Back to camp? All right, let"s go.
Not yet.
They may not let us in. Let"s
wait till this evening.
You wanted to see "Grunwald,"
and now you"re afraid?
- It"s risky.
- Take it easy.
Come with me.
Come on!
Do you speak English?
Yes, I do.
What"s happened? Has anyone
harmed them?
Nothing is the matter...
you"ve just shot a girl
from the camp.
Why?
My God!
Here in Europe, we are
used to it.
The Germans have been shooting
us for six years.
And now you.
What"s the difference?
She thinks it"s alive... Don"t worry,
it"s just a dummy!
There"II be another performance
tomorrow; you"II...
all see Grunwald!
We"II repeat it tomorrow.
Come on.
I know what happened. She"s dead.
- Were you with her?
- What are you doing here?
Is this supposed to be confession?
Foryou I guess it"s punishment
because we sinned?
Do you want to hear details?
No, you don"t have to, it"s
not confession.
You must answer whether you
loved her or not.
What if I didn"t and I only
wanted to use her?
Are you going to preach...
and mouth your empty
twaddle again?
You know how much words mean.
You"re not that stupid.
I spoke them to her, and she to me.
And what of it?
Tell me, father, where are
her words now?
Why are you silent, you subtle,
spiritual, storyteller?
- There are still words of prayer.
- So go ahead and pray.
L"II write poems. We run on with
our loquacity...
then there"s a sharp "halt!"
And it"s all over with.
You make fun of prayer? So prayers
are only words for you?
You"re a poor man, then. Listen
to this sky pilot...
We"re all broken.
But you worst of all. You"re
like a scavenger.
You collect books because you
came from them.
Now you pretend that you
don"t remember.
You collect them like burned rags.
Do you want to prove that they"ve
always been empty?
I didn"t burn them.
But you see them, like these books,
all twisted and burned.
But they are people! Look at them!
You go on and on, father, while she
just lies there saying nothing.
You"re like a breviary, full of
high-minded verses...
and we like verses because
we"re intelligent.
You"re right. Let"s go to her.
What a mob!
They don"t respect anything.
Where were you? L"ve been
looking for you.
Is it really important? We go our
separate ways tomorrow.
The earth is round, we"II
meet again.
If not on this, then on some
other meadow.
They killed her.
That"s what I wanted to tell you.
She went for a walk, the idiot.
I remember she was just a kid
in September of "39.
I used to buy her strawberry
and cream tarts.
Her dad and I were pals. And
now... a woman.
I almost had her...
What a tragedy!
Listen to me carefully, professor.
I was with her in that meadow...
and I saw them shoot her.
Stop it!
Now you can go to hell.
Go, please.
They marched 20 Russians in prison
dress out of the baths.
Their hands were bound behind them
with barbed wire.
They arranged them sideways
to the crowd.
They"d been standing there for
several hours.
Bareheaded and hungry, they
stood silently.
They were criminals,
Communists, right?
Today the entire camp will go
without dinner.
The kettles go back to the kitchen
with all the soup in them.
L"II show you!
They were only boys, right?
Then the SS men lined up in a row...
came up to the Russians...
and when the rifles fired, the
soldiers jumped back...
so they wouldn"t be splattered by
the exploding skulls.
The prisoners swayed and
crumpled in a heap...
covering the stones with
brains and blood.
When the corpses were pulled away,
the pressing crowd...
swept over those bloody Stones
like an avalanche.
Listen...
the next day this Muslim who
carried pipes with me...
assured me that human brains
are so delicate...
that you can eat them raw,
without cooking.
Listen...
Listen!
You know what I thought then?
That one and only time.
Did God exist? If I, his priest...
could have such thoughts.
Go away.
Real hunger is when...
you look at another person and
see something to eat.
L"ve known such hunger so
I understand them.
Go.
Go away!
Please go.
Nina!
THE LANDSCAPE AFTERA BATTLE
Quiet everyone!
The commander understands that
after what you"ve endured here...
you must hate your tormentors.
But we American soldiers, and you
the people of Europe...
have fought together so that law
might prevail over lawlessness.
We must respect the law.
You must understand that all those
guilty will be punished.
Be patient.
The commander gives you his word
of honor that they...
will be punished.
Remember, you are
free men now...
and you"ve got to live under
the rule of law.
The commanderthanks you
foryour help...
and wishes you all the best.
He hopes you will soon find
your families...
close friends and sweethearts.
He believes you will all
find happiness too.
Here they come!
They"re coming for us!
Attention!
The war had ended and the
year 1945 passed...
while they were kept behind
barbed wire.
The victors feared these people
and guarded them closely...
so they wouldn't misuse
their freedom.
They were hauled all over Germany...
until finally arriving at
former SS barracks...
where one of the numerous American
refugee camps was located.
You know what, sir?
The Germans are a practical
and ingenious people.
From regular skin they made
book bindings.
Moisture resistant.
And from tattooed skins...
lampshades.
Lieutenant lampshade!
Don"t make me laugh, it hurts!
Cut it out, God damn it!
Polish infantry marches well...
with Polish officers.
For five years they marched in
fives in the prison camp...
nowthat they"ve rested, they"re
marching again.
This time in fours, led by officers
not prisonertrustees.
They know howto teach marching...
but not how to teach the cooks not
to steal food for German women.
So you"re saying I do it, huh?
Whoever"s got kitchen duty ought to
make sure they don"t steal.
Will the cook steal, the
officer wonders...
for the German woman
who"s expecting?
They"re cooking with coal again!
The sons of bitches have electric
stoves, boilers...
What are they cooking?
Dinner forthe officers.
We"re all supposedly equal,
but only when...
marching to Mass...
not to mess.
How do you like this inspector?
He knows what it"s like.
And you?
You read books, but we"re talking
about food here!
His type kisses the colonel"s ass
until he gets a promotion.
Lay off, you Bolshevik runt...
and if you don"t like it, then
get out of the army!
Stealing, stealing... Stop yapping
if you haven"t caught anyone.
Agood dog doesn"t bark, he
catches and bites.
That bastard"s listening
to Warsaw again!
L"II take care of him.
Life is wonderful.
We sit here, locked up quietly and
safely, like with the Germans.
They steal like always.
Everything"s in order.
You can"t leave or they"II
shoot you.
Three Polish submarines returned
to Gdynia yesterday...
the Rys, the Zbik and the Sep and
the sailing ship, Dar Pomorza.
It carried a group of repatriates,
mostly women...
from Ravensbruck.
Most of the crew had served on
the ship before the war.
Former wanderers, give to the
fund for those...
returning from the west.
Breakfast! Hey Gypsy, want
some bacon?
Are you going to mass?
You"II pray a bit, write an article
forthe bulletin and...
Father editor will feed you.
Have a look at the babes, they"re
bringing in a transport.
If you put your mind to it, you
might just get lucky.
You"II talk to the archbishop
in Latin.
- He"II talk of patriotism, honor.
- L"II talk of fleas and goulash.
We"ve all had different experiences
with the bishop.
During Mass, he"II be thinking
about God and country...
and I about goulash.
We both hold each other
slightly in contempt.
I bet you"re in a hurry to mass
and then to see...
"Grunwald," right sir?
No.
L"m going to inspect the kitchen.
But if I don"t find anything...
Too bad the Germans didn"t
finish them off!
They love their country very much,
but full stomachs even more!
How stupid I was!
I kept this rabble alive
in prison...
fed them, risked my neck forthem...
stole food from the
stupid Gypsies.
Hey barrack boss, quit bragging.
I know how it was, you stole bread
and butter for yourself...
and soup forthem.
Who gave them a place
in the barracks?
Clean bunks, clean blankets and
straw in the mattresses?
Would they"ve survived otherwise?
Remember the colonel and his mill?
Brotherhood...
at war"s end while he grinds,
fries pancakes...
and runs to the latrine.
Now he"s important!
Colonel, colonel, aims for power,
colonel, mills his flour.
Let one nail drive out another.
We'll give you...
Poland, yes brother.
It"s my poem, sir.
Good, isn"t it?
L"m surprised, an intelligent
man writing such...
nonsense these days.
Orders are to maintain discipline
and not cause trouble.
Troublemaking will be
the end of us.
You"ve read too many
emigrant books.
Now you eat hot soup and
feel up German girls.
You Communist bastard...
Don"t like the new Poland, eh?
You"d like it to be otherwise, sir,
so you could carry the flag?
- Did you know how to govern?
- Go ahead and join them!
Don"t worry, I will, but I want to
make sure I remember you.
L"II be waiting foryou.
Who knows if you"II make it,
you Communist spy.
Take it back!
Go on!
Now l"m going to give you
a tattoo.
Listen to this!
I never smuggled into Warsaw, nor
was I seen at posh cafes...
Leave that alone!
Give it!
I wrote my poems not for fame,
but because I had to.
My friends knew death, knew its
name, I even lost one ortwo.
While I wrote of Libert and Staff,
of epithets and rhyme.
And such a life, of love and verses
empty, bland, and spineless.
All would not have been lost had I
only killed a German too.
Time to go cook something to eat.
To the rear, march!
Don"t you how it"s done?!
Overyour left arm.
Extinguish that fire and
get out of here.
You"II burn down the barracks.
Cooking like this is forbidden.
Poles don"t do this.
Get out of here.
Give me more to eat, you son of
a bitch, and I won"t cook.
You think this tastes good?
Try it!
See there?
If you didn"t steal,
I wouldn"t cook.
You eat up all our butter but short
me a few pancakes?
Don"t insult me, you know
you"re not right.
Wouldn"t it be better to get
some fresh air?
When you eat our rations and steal
meat for German girls...
then fresh airfeels good.
But I like it here.
If you don"t like the smoke,
you can leave!
You might like it better
somewhere else.
Solitary confinement.
Let"s go!
- What an SOB...
- Take him to lock-up.
Yes sir. L"II tell the sergeant...
that he tried to beat up a
policeman, and then...
l"II get some bread and sausage and
find some blank mail forms.
That"s enough! Get him
out of here!
Don"t you try escaping or
l"II break every...
bone in your body.
L"m sitting in this cell again
for cooking pancakes.
General, the men are ready
for Mass!
Salutations men!
Hey buddy...
What?
The book!
Listen...
why are you doing this? I know
you"ve been here before.
You can always come to me and
get something to eat.
There"s goulash today.
It is written, "Not by
bread alone..."
Exactly, and you keep stuffing
yourself for no reason.
You get the standard ration,
like everyone.
You"re free now, understand?
Why the camp obsession? Let"s go.
I know your poetry. It"s good.
I wonder who gave them to you,
our editor priest?
I got them, let"s go. I wheedled a
pass out of here.
I asked who the hell gave
you my poems?
What son of a bitch?
Look...
forthem, that platform is a stop
on the way west.
Forthose whose bones
lie in the pond...
it was the terminus.
God who has Poland...
wrapped through endless ages...
in her fine glow of...
power, might and glory.
You who've protected...
her with your mighty shield...
from all misfortunes...
meant to break her spirit.
Before your altar...
we lay down our prayer...
our free homeland...
return us Our Lord.
You didn"t run away...
from our divine, national
miracle play.
From the souls of the dead, you"re
crafting a flagpole.
The mystery play is over.
From spiritual lethargy into the
living body of the nation.
That Jewish woman ran aay from the
living body of the nation.
They crossed overthe border
from Poland.
And found fallow land here.
The bitterness of a cow
disappointed...
with the pasture.
Where is our meadow? We"re
from the same home?
We"ve met again in one home...
That belonged to the SS.
Our ascetic national body, Polish
mistletoe on a German oak.
How are things in Poland?
You think l"m a passenger who...
preferred to get off the
"Red" streetcar?
Have you heard thatjoke?
That"s not the reason.
What do those bitches want here?
What are they looking for?
Two million babes like that went
up in smoke here.
I had a buddy in the special unit.
He was one of those who
burned the corpses.
I asked him once, why he was
in such a bad mood.
He told me his father had been
sent to the camp.
We wanted to talk to him...
but the officer shouted...
so he told his fatherto go wash up
and that they"d talk later.
Later he pulled his father"s body
out of the baths...
and loaded it into the furnace.
He really didn"t have any
reason to be happy.
Excuse my poor English.
Do you know the crematorium tango?
Why are you so sad?
What do you care?
Get lost!
Afraid of an altar boy?
You"re an altar boy like
l"m a nun!
Stop it...
So this is how it is here? Mass
out front, while back here...
l"d never last here.
- You could get used to it.
- To what?
To stealing food, to cooking?
This is still detention; neither
prison, norfreedom.
We are a great moral force.
Moral?
Yes, yes, moral.
But people want to eat.
Aman must eat and have a woman.
People were hungry for
so many years...
yearning for bread so long...
for that first woman.
Those are basic things.
And neither Mass nor "Grunwald"
will change that.
Get lost!
You stinking bums! What"s
so funny?
You"rejust like them!
You"re no better!
Let go of me!
What do you want from me?
Maybe we could escape to some
deserted island.
But could I really?
In our world, does everyone
answerfor themselves?
It"s not my fault the
world is evil.
I don"t want to die to change it.
I just want to live.
Didn"t you ever want to
escape from here?
Not for bread or a woman, just
simply to break free.
I was afraid of the guards.
To survive so many years then
die afterthe war?
No, that would"ve been
too grotesque.
So you were afraid, right? You
were scared, that"s all.
What could you know of fear?
You don"t know what fear is.
Once...
once we were marching in the camp,
the orchestra was playing...
In total there were nine
thousand men there.
Near evening, they brought in a
large group of naked women.
Their arms outstretched,
they pleaded...
for us to save them...
forthey were going to
the gas chambers.
None of the men moved, not a
single hand was raised.
Nine thousand men.
We all wanted to live.
Because the living are always right
and the dead always wrong.
We"ve caught a thief!
AGerman in the kitchen!
Get away, you beast!
The camp cooks will never
get out alive!
The swine was stealing, father!
And committed adultery!
Calm down, my children, calm down.
Do you not have God in your heart?
Let"s break it up!
Let"s escape!
You"re brave, fearless. I wish
I were like that.
Maybe we could go for a walk?
But outside the camp.
L"ve never been outside. But I
won"t get far with you.
- Let"s go.
- Not yet.
I have to go see the priest...
and give him my poems.
I told him it wasn"t the cook,
but that one...
He won"t let us listen to the
radio, yours... ours...
not Warsaw, not London.
Why did you run away from there?
Why are you still in this camp?
Don"t you want to go on?
Why"d you escape from Poland?
Because of fear?
It wasn"t fear at all.
I ran away from love.
Funny, isn"t it? Tell me
that it"s funny.
You said something about a walk?
So when do we go overthe wire?
Or if you prefer...
into the woods.
I haven"t told you how we made
soup in the camp.
Rails led from the crematorium
to the pond where...
we used to dump the bones.
Sometimes we"d catch a fish
and eat it raw.
And from that greasy water, soup...
No... no...
Write a poem about me.
I may not be a muse, but
l"ve got freckles.
I don"t write about freckles.
What are you laughing about?
Help me find my glasses.
How do I look?
Since freckles are out, write about
my hands, or my hair...
All right, I can write about a hand.
- What"s that?
- My name.
Why are you called "105?"
Because it"s short and beautiful. A
low number was ennobling.
It meant you"d been there longer
and could be a functionary.
About hands and hairthen...
Will you describe me in parts?
How else am I going to write about
a monster like you?
I don"t think l"II ever write
another poem again.
Poetry is as unreal to me as
the touch of noise...
the sound of shape.
You must have a last name.
The war is over.
Don"t bother, that can"t
be kissed off.
It"s fine, professional
German work.
L"II take it to my grave.
- What was that about poetry?
- I don"t remember.
Who"s that?
Pretty.
- Very... and that hair.
- Beautiful.
I remember it on my face,
the way it smelled...
How do you know her?
L"m not certain, but I think...
I think she was the one who beat me
at Gestapo headquarters.
I didn"t have my glasses on.
I think she leaned over me and I
remember smelling her hair.
Why didn"t you want to come here?
You have to learn how to walk all
over again, in the streets...
in the park, among people.
Shall I teach you?
L"d forgotten there were
places like this.
Do you think you could love me,
in spite of everything?
- Why the qualifier?
- Could you?
I think the measure of poetry,
and maybe religion...
is its ability to awaken love.
Love, yes, love.
Unfortunately we are doomed to
venial experiences.
What a...
What a false measure of things.
Why do they say, "golden autumn?"
It"s red.
Because this is an oak autumn.
The oak is a noble...
typically Nordic...
Old-German tree.
I prefer chestnuts, then.
Bach.
Stop it.
I didn"t have time for music
before the war.
It was only in the camp that I got
to know and like it.
But we had the best orchestra
in the world.
The Germans brought in the finest
musicians from all of Europe.
It was great...
we"d march off to work each day,
by the thousands...
and the orchestra would
play Rosamunde.
And each day about 100 people
wouldn"t return to the camp.
If you could play the cello well,
even if you were a Jew...
you could survive.
What"s he doing?
It was so lyrical, and suddenly
a rat showed up.
Germans are a musical and
provident people.
We talk of autumn, but it"s winter
soon and they"II need firewood.
Look there"s another rat...
soon they"II start to fight.
No, I see they stick together.
They"re solid in every situation.
Don"t look at them like that! They
were in Warsaw too...
But they wore different caps!
And weren"t so sneaky.
There"s nowhere we can hide.
They"II find us everywhere.
What"s he talking about?
Listen carefully. That"s the
language of Goethe.
How beautifully he speaks, so
soft and imploring...
it"s even hard to understand.
I was taught a different German and
I had to listen at attention.
He wants us to give
him a cigarette.
He"s sorry for bothering us. He
says you"re beautiful...
and that that"s the way life is,
that he now...
has to beg cigarettes.
Stop it! He"s an old man!
What are you doing?
Here"s his cane. You know what
you can do with it?
You can catch someone and...
Stop it, it hurts! Give it back
to him right now!
Don"t worry, l"m not a blind man
nor a garbage picker.
L"II give him back his cane.
What do I need it for?
- Why"d you run off?
- Don"t touch me!
You were like a wild man, with
this mad look on yourface.
I was only joking, forgive me.
L"m glad you"re here.
Take me in your arms and
hold me close.
Don"t look around.
- Why"d you escape from Poland?
- Why"d I escape?
- You"II just laugh.
- No I won"t.
For six years I was a Pole,
a Catholic...
who went to church each Sunday.
Before she died in the camp, my
mother gave me a missal.
- I remember the dedication...
- "To my beloved daughter -Mama."
How'd you know?
Go on.
I had a different name then, after
all, I don"t look Jewish.
You look like an Aryan.
It"s scary.
What about love? You said
you"d escaped from it.
That"s right.
For six years I was in love
with a Catholic.
He came from a very good family,
except that...
Hear me?
Are you listening?
The Germans left, hejoined the
army and I wrote him...
telling him I was Jewish.
It was very easy.
And you ran away before
he wrote back?
I suppose you don"t like
Jews either?
They"re shipping us
farthertomorrow.
More camps, strange faces...
It"s all so repulsive.
I can be Jewish, but only
for myself.
L"m terrified l"II end up
in Palestine.
Settled in some Jewish village,
milking cows and collecting eggs...
I don"t want that!
You think that Christ would"ve
been a good soldier?
More likely a deserter, like many
of the early Christians.
What a lovely inscription.
Bleeding morning star, you shine
on my untimely death.
Yes, pretty... flowers, poetry...
What are you doing? Scaring
people in church?
We have to get out of here. Perhaps
go west somewhere.
We can live normal lives.
I really am free.
- And that guy in Poland?
- L"II forget about him.
You haven"t yet.
I haven"t met anyone else.
Come on, you dummy...
It didn"t smell.
What are you talking about?
Her hair.
I guess it wasn"t her.
Stop thinking about it. To live,
you have to forget.
We"II leave and then go
to university.
- Are you afraid?
- It"s not fear.
Wherever we go there"II be fear.
L"ve heard them scream in fear
in all sorts of languages.
You said you knew how to forget
and start all over.
That"s what you said. L"d like
to, but I can"t.
- Besides, it"s notjust that.
- We"d go to lectures.
- At the Sorbonne, I suppose?
- Yes, both of us, together.
- I can"t speak French.
- You"II learn.
I can learn any language
you like, but...
l"m always going to think
and feel in Polish.
But we"II be together.
And we"II listen to some old
Sorbonne professor...
lecturing in French about
the vicissitudes...
of our literature.
And after classes we"II go
back to the hotel...
and lead political debates on
our nation"s mission.
We"II squabble out on the
Parisian streets.
And when we"re old, they"II put us
in an old people"s home.
L"II write my bitter poems...
and paint the faces of friends
who have long since died.
In a word, we"II be immigrants.
Stop it.
What"s wrong?
I was afraid too, you know?
I was involved in 28 roundups.
I bet you don"t...
know what they are.
We had a hiding place
behind the closet.
Little children learned that
when the Germans...
came into the house...
they said not a word,
they were silent...
and simply stared with
eyes wide-open...
To live, you have to forget!
It"s marvelous! Life is marvelous!
I love you! I adore you!
Come on.
Let"s leave, OK?
If we leave here, no one
will give us food.
And we"II be caught by those black
apes in the white helmets.
We"II end up in another camp where
we"II die of hunger.
You promised me we"d leave and
that we"d go to university.
What would I write about there,
and for whom?
Everything that made me
who I am, is Polish.
I can"t erase that, and
I don"t want to.
You think that homeland is
just a landscape?
The same meadows exist in Poland,
but so what?
So what?!
So what is this homeland of yours?
Ours.
I don"t know.
I guess it"s mostly people...
traditions, language.
This language we speak and which
we understand the best.
We share that for sure.
We can"t have that alone, or even
just the two of us.
All the rivers there
will be strange.
So you"re going back to Poland?
You only wanted me for a day,
like all of them.
- All of them?
- That"s right.
Those for whom l"m a Jew.
See this?
Unlike the others, you never
asked what it was.
They"re the tablets of Moses. The
commandments in Hebrew.
This is supposed to link me
with the Jews.
But l"m neither a Jew nor a Pole.
- They threw me out of Poland.
- You said you escaped.
I think Jews are repulsive!
I thought there were still
other people.
But you"re not a person,
you"re just a Pole.
So go back to your Poland!
Return to your Poland!
Leave me alone!
Are you going back?
Where"s the German girl?
I don"t know. She went home.
Wearing your pants?
It just worked out that way.
Coming?
To Poland on foot? You"re a
hell of a guy!
- Coming or not?
- You know, I...
Now you"re going to say...
that there"II be no food, that
things need to stabilize...
You"ve found a skirt, that"s what!
What have you got here
besides her?
We"re going back to the camp.
The camp"s closed. They
wouldn"t let me in.
Go ahead and see foryourselves.
See you in Poland.
L"II be waiting!
See?
They know the way out and they"re
fleeing like rats, and us?
Back to camp? All right, let"s go.
Not yet.
They may not let us in. Let"s
wait till this evening.
You wanted to see "Grunwald,"
and now you"re afraid?
- It"s risky.
- Take it easy.
Come with me.
Come on!
Do you speak English?
Yes, I do.
What"s happened? Has anyone
harmed them?
Nothing is the matter...
you"ve just shot a girl
from the camp.
Why?
My God!
Here in Europe, we are
used to it.
The Germans have been shooting
us for six years.
And now you.
What"s the difference?
She thinks it"s alive... Don"t worry,
it"s just a dummy!
There"II be another performance
tomorrow; you"II...
all see Grunwald!
We"II repeat it tomorrow.
Come on.
I know what happened. She"s dead.
- Were you with her?
- What are you doing here?
Is this supposed to be confession?
Foryou I guess it"s punishment
because we sinned?
Do you want to hear details?
No, you don"t have to, it"s
not confession.
You must answer whether you
loved her or not.
What if I didn"t and I only
wanted to use her?
Are you going to preach...
and mouth your empty
twaddle again?
You know how much words mean.
You"re not that stupid.
I spoke them to her, and she to me.
And what of it?
Tell me, father, where are
her words now?
Why are you silent, you subtle,
spiritual, storyteller?
- There are still words of prayer.
- So go ahead and pray.
L"II write poems. We run on with
our loquacity...
then there"s a sharp "halt!"
And it"s all over with.
You make fun of prayer? So prayers
are only words for you?
You"re a poor man, then. Listen
to this sky pilot...
We"re all broken.
But you worst of all. You"re
like a scavenger.
You collect books because you
came from them.
Now you pretend that you
don"t remember.
You collect them like burned rags.
Do you want to prove that they"ve
always been empty?
I didn"t burn them.
But you see them, like these books,
all twisted and burned.
But they are people! Look at them!
You go on and on, father, while she
just lies there saying nothing.
You"re like a breviary, full of
high-minded verses...
and we like verses because
we"re intelligent.
You"re right. Let"s go to her.
What a mob!
They don"t respect anything.
Where were you? L"ve been
looking for you.
Is it really important? We go our
separate ways tomorrow.
The earth is round, we"II
meet again.
If not on this, then on some
other meadow.
They killed her.
That"s what I wanted to tell you.
She went for a walk, the idiot.
I remember she was just a kid
in September of "39.
I used to buy her strawberry
and cream tarts.
Her dad and I were pals. And
now... a woman.
I almost had her...
What a tragedy!
Listen to me carefully, professor.
I was with her in that meadow...
and I saw them shoot her.
Stop it!
Now you can go to hell.
Go, please.
They marched 20 Russians in prison
dress out of the baths.
Their hands were bound behind them
with barbed wire.
They arranged them sideways
to the crowd.
They"d been standing there for
several hours.
Bareheaded and hungry, they
stood silently.
They were criminals,
Communists, right?
Today the entire camp will go
without dinner.
The kettles go back to the kitchen
with all the soup in them.
L"II show you!
They were only boys, right?
Then the SS men lined up in a row...
came up to the Russians...
and when the rifles fired, the
soldiers jumped back...
so they wouldn"t be splattered by
the exploding skulls.
The prisoners swayed and
crumpled in a heap...
covering the stones with
brains and blood.
When the corpses were pulled away,
the pressing crowd...
swept over those bloody Stones
like an avalanche.
Listen...
the next day this Muslim who
carried pipes with me...
assured me that human brains
are so delicate...
that you can eat them raw,
without cooking.
Listen...
Listen!
You know what I thought then?
That one and only time.
Did God exist? If I, his priest...
could have such thoughts.
Go away.
Real hunger is when...
you look at another person and
see something to eat.
L"ve known such hunger so
I understand them.
Go.
Go away!
Please go.
Nina!
THE LANDSCAPE AFTERA BATTLE