Marmalade Revolution (1980) - full transcript

Hello.

How are things?

I see!

I was just thinking...

Milk goes in the fridge.

That too.

Is it Wednesday already.

Been working hard?

What at?

No, there weren't many...

- What?
- People.



Coffee's settling.

We've always brewed,
haven't we?

So what?

Did you buy apricot marmalade?

What about it?

You bought apricot marmalade.

Yes?

For as long as I can remember,

we've always eaten orange marmalade
in this house.

Can I have your name?

Orr.

Or what?

Sorry?

Or what?



Karl-Henrik Orr.

Two first names...
Can I have your surname?

Orr.

Or? Or your surname.

My name is Orr.

On can be called Orr...

Or not?

We'll put down Knott.

Not what?

Karl-Henrik Knott.

My name's not Knott either.

Write... You write it.

Wake up!

Can you wake up?

I'm in a bit of a hurry, you see.

It's going to press earlier
than I thought.

We're calling ourselves "Just Then"
instead of "Just Now".

Everything is happening so quickly.
We want to be sure it's right.

We at "Just Then" only just found out
that you were "Just Here".

Don't ask how,
we never reveal our sources.

I've known your wife
for quite a while.

May.

Shall we get started, then?

My name's Anna-Berit.

Hello!

WHAT for?

Maybe I should explain!

We've just now
started a new series...

which is called
"The New Single Man".

There has to be debate
about the single man.

It's been going on in Germany
for ages...

but we're the first
to take it up here.

You and I?

The magazine, "Just Then"!

Can't you start
with someone else?

I'll be happy to be interviewed later...

when I've been single a bit longer.

No we have to begin
with the fist reaction.

One leaves home
without explanation...

Then without explanation,
a note is found...

telling where one went.

"One"?

Meaning a single man like you.

I suggest this is
significant singles' behaviour.

A regular singles' impulse.

And then?

The question is, if one is...

on the way to molding his life...

in a social vacuum...

or a new social scenario.

I think one is about to
launch a whole new social game theory.

Transforming one's role-play

in better communication
with the criterion of truth.

Can I write like that?

Did I say that?

No, but that's what I'm asking.

I don't know what to say.

We'll say that,
as it agrees with May's version.

So she has a version?

Did she mention marmalade?

Has Dad already left?

Wasn't he home last night?

Is he traveling somewhere?

You know very well that
he wasn't home last night...

and that he's not
going away anywhere.

Oh no!

No what?

I don't think there's another woman.

I'd never believe that.

I thought that was what
we always believed.

So what is it?

In front of the children

it's all sweetness and light
between Mummy and Daddy.

Aren't you in a hurry?

What a farce!

Did you want some more?

- What?
- Toast.

No thanks.

I thought I'd try the new marmalade.

If you don't get a move on soon,
I'll scream!

A quote from Hemingway...

"All we do is...

play our new records
and try new marmelades."

It's impossible Hemingway
could have said that.

He was talking about drinks,
of course.

What's your problem?

Is it just not done,
to quote Hemingway in the morning?

Hi! I was just coming to see you.

I was on my way out.

Come along then!

I forgot something!

I didn't forget anything.

Am I typical?

Of what?

Single behaviour?

I'll ask our experts.

Do single behaviour experts
already exist?

Or has the magazine
called in some Germans?

You're defensive.

How?

You're defensive
about the term "single man".

I'm transforming my role-play

but protecting myself
at the same time.

Are you trying to be funny?

I just wanted to help.

You want pictures, too?

Yes, the back of your head,
when you're talking.

The back of it?

You must stay anonymous.

Where are you going?

I'm not going anywhere!

Maybe I have no desire at all
to be just an anonymous single man!

Maybe I am defensive...

but why do I have to
be anonymous?

You should think about your family, too.

Alright... back of my head.

So...

- Is this alright?
- It's fine.

If you could just lean
to the left...

Turn your face a little more
towards me.

It doesn't matter
if your cheek shows.

May used to say
that I have soft cheeks.

She wouldn't know me
without soft cheeks.

She knows it's you.

But if you want to,
you can turn back your face.

She used to scratch my neck
when I was driving.

But that's a long time ago.

No... Change places.

Don't look so stiff.

I'm trying to look right.

I'm trying to be anonymous
and single.

But everything about me
is associated with something.

You've misunderstood this.

That's maybe typical...

when one has passed
the impulse stage.

Are you trying
to make fun of me?

I'm not really sure.

I feel rather nervous about
being called "the new single man".

Damn it, you've got a great face!

Shame we have to use
the back of your head.

How do I look?

Chic.

How?

What is?

You are.

The dress is.
You, in the dress are.

"For you to know where I am."

I don't understand that.

That was what was on his note.

How would I know where he was?

That’s the big question.

That I knew where he was?

Red always works well!

- Do you want to look at something else?
- No, this is good.

Am I still chic?

Because in that case...

Coffee or tea?

Coffee.

Anything else?

Orange juice...

and toast.

2 boiled eggs - 4 minutes.

Cheese?

Yes, but nothing two strong.

Marmalade?

Marmalade?

I can bring it anyway.

No marmalade!

Tea with cream and sugar...

and grapefruit juice...

one fried egg, well done...

and two Danish pastries
with strong cheese.

- Instead of the other one?
- Yes.

And 2 Danish pastries
with cheese?

Strong.

Hi, sweetie!

- How are you?
- Fine.

Has Dad gone away for good?

Why would you think that?

I see you've bought
a new dress...

What's that got to do with it?

I don't know if he's coming back.

He could have said something
or wrote something... or called...

or phoned you.

Well, as a matter of fact
he did leave a note.

So he's a nice guy.

Go wandering off
and then come back...!

Anyone would think
I was an armchair.

He gets up and sits down
and gets up and sits down.

What the hell is it all about?

You were brought up
in armchairs.

Grandpa and grandma
were very liberal.

And you and Dad
are so damned uptight.

Don't try with me, anyway!

We're not trying anything
at all with you.

But when you say

"Grandma and grandpa
were very liberal people"

as if it were nasty.

What on earth was nasty
about that?

You say so many
things I don't like.

It would be better hear that Grandma
and Grandpa made eyes at each other.

That certainly did not happen.

Anything would be better to hear
than what you fucking say about them!

You've started swearing a lot.

Because I can.

What's a little swearword compared
to the way you answer me?

It's lucky I swore... it gave you
a reason to talk back to me.

What really is my radical-socialist-
liberal-moderate mother all about?

Is that supposed to be funny?

You always comment about
how I speak...

but never about what I say.

One has to be totally
drawing-room-polite.

I promise you'll get to see
all the material.

The material...?

What's your opinion?

I was as careful as possible.

If there's something you'd like
to change, can we discuss it.

That isn't everything...

There are others,
apart from you.

Well?

I'm already stuck.

I barely made it out the door.

What do you mean?

What's this?

Should everyone in
the publishing house find out

that my husband is
"The New Single Man"?

It doesn't matter at all.

I assume
that "single man" means...

that I can notify the university
that he is either sick, or well.

Both can be reason enough
to withdraw from teaching.

But I think you've abused a trust...

if you want to get
any sort of reaction,

which I guess you do.

What a conventional reaction!

Yes, that's possible.

You can interpret Karl-Henrik's behavior
from a conventional point of view

But from that,
we learn nothing...

It only reinforces
our prejudices.

What does that have to do
with your articles?

I think I've been a help.

People look at you and Karl-Henrik
in a warm and sympathetic way.

Didn't they before?

Other people's tolerance
threshold is lower.

Higher.

What do you mean?

You must've meant higher.

You're so negative with me.

I just want to make the world
a bit better.

For you to know where I am.

For you to know...

...that I DO exist.

Hi!

Hi.

- You're sitting here?
- Yes.

- I'm sitting here.
- Yes.

- Hi!
- Bye bye.

No, I'm sorry!

I'm sorry!

Well?

Well what?

Aren't you going to fuck me now?

What did you say?

I'd be very surprised
if you hadn't heard me.

Yes... but did I hear you right?

You did, for sure.

Aren't you going to fuck me now?

That's what I said.

Or is it enough that dear cousin

presses his thigh against mine,
under the table at the family dinner?

Or to push his knee
between my thighs during the dance?

Or accidentally grabs my breast?

Or nibbles my ear...

with one eye on Karl-Henrik?

Maybe that's enough for you?

I think that's quite nice.

But fucking is out of the question?

Is that for your sake or mine?

Or for Karl-Henrik's sake?

Or maybe, just for
the sake of morality?

Most likely it's for
Karl-Henrik's sake.

How does it usually go
in the movies and novels...?

Can they never
invent anything else?

I'll sweep that up.

You master your miserliness
so nicely.

What do you actually want?!

I want your decision as to
whether or not you'll fuck me.

Is it going to happen?

Are you afraid it will put paid
to the niceties?

That things would get serious?

All the sweet little feelies
and suggestions.

You've not seemed
completely unmoved and insensitive.

My God...!

Is it a sign of indifference that
I'm here asking salacious questions?

- No...
- No, what?

- Karl-Henrik doesn't know I'm here.
- I didn't ask that.

No, not that, either.

Either what?

I won't talk about it afterwards...
whether it comes to something, or not.

Marriage has become
so quiet these days...

Arrangements get made
through third parties.

But, May...

Don't try with some sort of intimacy!
Just don't!

You can fuck me,
or not fuck me.

Observe I'm not saying "Let's fuck."

That's something
I'd find agreeable.

You use the word "fuck"
quite a lot.

But it's really not arousing.

Maybe it helps get YOU hot?

Do not tell me
about my inhibitions!

You did break your glass, though.

That's starting
to get pretty childish.

What do you mean?

Should we just play games
and tease each other?

In that case, you are
completely wrong.

Anyway, children's games
have a meaning.

You and your clumsy moves...

Your glances,
and your roving hands!

I guess I'm getting old.

Outdated methods.

You're not exactly
in your first flowering.

Do you think I'm going
to cry over it?

Possibly.

But I do doubt it.

For that would also trigger
a sloppy intimacy...

that wouldn't fit well...

with your sweetly erotic advances...

that are so refined.

Come and sit here,
so I can grope you.

Because we're alone, I can I take it
further than I usually do.

But right now, I do not have...

the slightest bit of lust for you.

Maybe I just don't have the time...

or the capacity to stumble
through an act of intercourse.

Why don't you sit down?

Is it inappropriate for me
not to be horny?

Am I not behaving as I should?

No... You're certainly not.

That probably explains
your so-called charm...

it's never quite what it should be.

But be very careful, Edvard!

Your little flirtatious put-downs...

"Taking liberties", as it's called...
Are they still to be taken?

Are those liberties tasty?

Nope.

What do you know
about my liberties?

Maybe it's yours
that don't taste so good.

I prefer my own taste.

If it doesn't fit, it doesn't fit.

For example, I don't like that dress...
not on you.

It takes away some of that
arousing confined accessibility.

The bits that are such fun to fondle.

It does nothing for you.

It does not highlight
your assets.

Your resources of...

...neatly- and tidily-wrapped lusts.

If you have some, now.

Otherwise one can toy
with the thought...

that they may still be found.

Then one can get oneself
a little excited...

and feel alive.

Am I alright this way?

Is this what you like
to hear from me?

Without the least bit
of yucky intimacy!

You're excellent.
Really brilliant.

I've never seen you in red.

It maybe the novelty of it
that makes it seem silly.

You want me to always
be the same.

With knees under the dinner table.

One day when we're really old...

you'll confide in me that
you used to have the hots for me.

That's as much as you'll dare.

Is that what I'll get from you?

Or just the whisper
of an old man?

One has to cherish one's memories.

Everything to please the man.

Oh no, not at all.

You want to make yourself
as unpleasant as possible.

I don't know what I should do.

- No!
- Well, you can't go home like that.

You can't come home
without a dress on.

That's nothing to do with you!

Maybe there's no one at home?

Or maybe it's someone...

who's not at home?

Maybe that's why...

you're exposing me to this!

Do you think I'm going
to cry over this?

So that maybe you get to be
comforting and understanding.

Just get dressed!

Don't you want me?

You look straight at me...

but you've already
started to swallow.

You surely have had thoughts
about how it would be?

Yes, of course.

It's just that it has
so little to do with you.

Those channels are so worn...

that thoughts and fantasies
can easily flow through them.

You break into my habits...

in order to break your own.

Your quite a talker aren't you!

Yes, so it's said.

In conversing with you,
my mouth just takes over.

Cheers, Aunt Elsa!

Always so nice to see you.

You're an asset
at these frigging parties.

Karl-Henrik is happy
with his professorship?

Everyone complains
about so much paperwork...

though the education minister
has promised less bureaucracy.

How's Ellen? Does she get
anything out of school?

It's likely not that easy now,
with the move to a modern school.

It's such a protracted transition!

What about summer?

Going away?

Will it be Greece...

or Spain?

Maybe just good old Sweden?

We'll go into the other room.

No...

I have to go home now.

It's nice to see you again.

After all, a brother's
still a brother...

even if he's older.

Though we don't often
see each other.

You haven't seemed interested,
though...

You know what I mean.

Yes, I understand.

So here you are, resting up.

Seems a good idea.

Though I don't really understand,
following what...

or for what, either.

But you'll probably
get started again.

Though it was quite
a long time ago now.

Actually, you never gave
the least hint as to why you quit.

Had it involved atoms or genes
I might have guessed...

But history!

But maybe even historians
can come up with dangerous truths.

Art, the humanities and religion
can start to resemble a hobby...

while everyone's going
in other directions...

I understand that you...

You see?

Now I'm offering an explanation.

Or I'm giving myself
an explanation.

It's really beautiful here.

The park is splendid.

Must be difficult
keeping it looking so regal.

But parks that are too orderly,
can be a bit frightening.

As being symbolic
of power over society...

...a secret, inaccessible influence.

Like certain people.

Do you never get a feeling
about some people who are near...

that they have a secretive influence
that is out of your reach?

Sometimes I feel that
about you, Aina.

That doesn't mean
I feel near to you...

But Per-Hugo could get
that feeling from you.

But you may not have heard
what I said?

Near...

What does "near" mean?
What does it mean to be near?

I never know if you're present
or absent, Per-Hugo.

Whichever you are,
it's to the highest degree.

Either totally present,
or alternatively, totally absent.

I don't know which.

It's if there were
a strict order there...

to keep your presence
within reasonable limits.

As if we kept life and each other
at a distance, using our habits...

...ceremonies and rites.

Are you cold?

Let's move on.

If we listen to psychologists,
and behavioural-researchers...

family counselors
and magazine writers...

you can get the idea
that life itself is a disease.

That a kind of
unattainable normality...

is the only healthy condition.

But normality is defined differently
from month to month...

and we all keep readjusting
until we're wiped out.

You're smiling.

Maybe you think
we're already wiped out.

You probably think
that's a pleasant thought.

If you have any thoughts.

Or is it obvious to you
that life is a sickness?

If so, will you destroy
all your ceremonies and rites?

It's pointless to get involved in
your "life", or whatever you call it.

You've selected or opted out,
or whatever it is.

There's a hint of children
still in your face.

A hint of teachers.

Prominent professor of history.

Where have you done all this?

Can't you speak?

Are you ruled by a crazy chaos...

or a crazy discipline?

How long can you
keep chaos going?

I don't understand.

What don't you?

I don't understand why you'd come
to ME with your concerns.

"TO BE, OR..."
Professor Orr lectures

In Sweden, the seat of this envy,
we have strict laws.

What is ill-matched
is disturbing.

Everything must have
human proportions.

That's why the weekly magazines
are full of Nobel laureates' recipes...

and film-stars' solutions
to life-issues.

Doctors' accounts of sail-boats...

and our fashion designers'
confessions about their illnesses.

The most striking thing
is to be as ordinary as possible.

The absolutely most ordinary,
is his majesty the king...

so that we can't find a reason
to abolish the monarchy.

I know I have wrapped myself
in this country's comfort blanket...

where you still complain
so your critical mind is not blunted.

I am a devoted complainer
about the climate and the government.

I vote for the Social Democrats
and spend half my holidays in Sweden.

I became politically aware
at an early age...

But I don't spend too much time
thinking about Czechs or Negroes.

I'm one of those well-meaning liberals
who corrupted the labour movement.

I was too late in taking a conservative-
standpoint role in advancing progress...

to demonstrate what
should be swept away.

In my well-adapted
revolutionary zeal...

which resulted in
the "du" usage reform...

and in an equal division
of responsibilities...

in the case of home purchases.

In this, my revolutionary "you",

I've cleared the way for a useful
and pleasant paternal revolution.

When things become
too quiet and boring...

on can offset the deeds
of one's opponents

by introducing reforms...

by releasing a bit
of influence in the workplace.

This month it could be
an arms factory or a university.

Doesn't matter at all.

Animals and history
have given me perspective.

If I get stuck, I go to Skansen
or at the library.

Now I'm at Skansen.

The monkeys can sometimes be felt
as a kind of clarification.

Here they are singles
in a group.

Does that clarify Karl-Henrik?

Loneliness as a group movement
in time.

Isn't that interesting?

I don't know.

- You're so vague!
- I'm not alone in that.

Do you mean me?

I see it as a movement in time.

The monkeys and the seals
are the most expressive.

It's almost scary!

They don't scare me until
you ask if I resemble them.

Don't you feel superior
to the animals now?

So I didn't before?!

He scribbles down
his pathetic jam-jar rebellion...

and the protest is expressed

by being silent towards someone
at the breakfast table.

How could that person know of
the huge concerns swirling in his mind

before storming off to his
bureaucratic reform activities?

should one be ashamed
of being a bureaucrat...

...when nowadays people brag
about their masturbating?

Once upon a time, people might
restrict such things to their diaries.

Nowadays they open up
to the lady sharing their table.

She is amazes but flattered
by the casual way he tells her.

Am I talking about masturbation
or bureaucracy?

You could say
it's the same thing...

I don't know
if there's something to it.

Masturbation...

bureaucracy...

Two ways to keep chaos
under control.

However...

I hate that kind of analogy.

You must be allowed to masturbate
without thinking about paperwork!

My name's Hanna.

My name's Karl-Henrik.

What do you actually
going to do?

- About...?
- What's the catch?

It's free admission.

Does that mean more people
come to listen?

If the uprising only touches
your own personal freedom...

...don't worry about chaos.

Go around for a bit,
making waves...

and then end up in a spiffy
but undemanding space...

your own and others'.

Everything possible
has been tried.

It's not so easy now that Social
Democrats are not Social Democrats...

and we see that Mao wasn't a Maoist,
and Zen was no Buddhist.

Have you found a hook
to hang your soul on?

You know, that strange
lonely thing

that slips out at night and
comes back in the morning.

To what? I'll probably find out.

But from what?
That I won't find out.

I try for a while...

but...

content myself with being
a bit drowsy when I'm writing.

The usual thing...

At 6.30 in the morning
there are many hands...

in our Swedish villages...

used to working at anything.

People work their arses off...

so subtle thinking evaporates

Then comes the banal charge
of trivialities.

Everyday poetry
fills you with its sadness.

Nothing would be more out of place
than if you uttered a morning prayer.

Anyway, nobody does it.

Instead, we get a big burp.

One of those, often long-
awaited in small babies.

Then there's the fart.

The day begins with air leaving you.

It can befall anyone.

Isn't "befall" a bit much?

Why do you do this, then?

Personal reasons.

Communication with my
nearest and dearest.

That's very odd.

It's an artistic creation.

You use humanity as a mailbox.

Too bad there are so few
representatives of humanity here.

Hi, Karl-Henrik.

This is Anna-Berit at 'Just Then'.

How are you going?

Fine, thanks.

I saw in a local paper
that you're out on a lecture tour.

It seems to be related
to our series of articles.

The new one.

Can I just say
what I rang to say?

We've no one to send just now,
and I'm up to my ears...

just so much to do
on this right now.

Can you send us a clean copy?

Don't you have a clean copy?

You must realise that we journalists
hate the bad habit of speaking freely!

That was a joke, Karl-Henrik.

Can you give me a summary
on the phone?

Why not?

So, it can't be summarised?

You always say that.

We'll try anyway.

If there were some connection,
won't it be good for publicity?

Where are you next time?

Have you closed down
your lecture business?

Damn, things get stuck sometimes!

I'm sorry, but you could
have given me a hint.

Don't take what I say
so seriously.

I'm a bit desperate.

We haven't got what
we had in mind, out of it.

I may try a symposium.

You'd be supportive wouldn't you?

Why would you sit backwards?

No, no public.
It's just you and me...

the editor-in-chief
and some other single people.

Of course I can't force you.

I could of course try with May.

But you're more fun...
and a little more famous.

We've given up on anonymity.

It works better
with known material.

We have big problems
with circulation.

We have to broaden our appeal.

The broader we get,
the fewer the people get.

Know what I mean?

Then I worked in the theatre.

Everybody there
was nice to each other.

They were always kissing and hugging

and asking how you were
and what you were doing...

But they never waited
for an answer.

If you did get a chance to answer,
they didn't hear it.

They talked about
what a hard time they'd had...

with the role...
with the director...

or finding time for things nobody
had told them to find time for.

On radio, TV, in the theater,

sing in bars,
read at congresses...

It was always too much
...or too little.

Lots of cute boys.

I thought I'd try journalism.

It really is something
I want to know about.

And so I ended up here...

and happened upon you...

a regular theatre daddy.

And then I get mad at you.

In actual fact,
I can't really write...

so I'll never really make it
as a journalist.

Now I'm talking too much.

Let's be silent for a bit.

"A professor", I was thinking...

"who talks about whether to be,
is something for me."

"It's just what I need."

It was just what
I did NOT need."

Didn't you see something in me
that was something else I wanted?

Don't I mean anything
at all to you?

I'm asking you if
I mean anything to you.

No, I might've guessed.

It depends on...

What "mean anything?" signifies?

It doesn't, at all.

It's really delightful here.

Yes, but it doesn't
need you to say it.

Just let me be the way I am.

Why? Then there's no point
in being together.

Being together?

I realise it sounds a bit much.

You and I... we're together
without being together.

Know why?

Don't laugh...
It's not funny.

No?

Not much can be done about it.

No, there isn't.

Hello! Where have you
gone off to?

We can discuss it, can't we?

You say it's delightful here,
and I totally agree.

It goes awry, in my experience.

I thought I was
a new experience?

Perhaps you're a bit
too pretentious for that.

Good Lord! You're right!

It's terrible that I don't
grab that opportunity.

You're deceptive, you know.

I'm not a bit deceptive.

I've tried to deceive myself,
but normality gets in the way.

Look at my ridiculous attempts.

Can't you smash me
into little pieces

and we'll try to put the bits back
together in a different way?

I could never do that.

No, you couldn't.

But you're there nosing around.

Though you don't mean
anything by it.

What's THAT about?

- I don't think I'm nosy!
- Leave me alone!

You said I've nothing
to give you.

In your ridiculous lectures, no.

Then it's as if there
was nothing to do.

I get scared...

I don't want to
become like that.

I'm surrounded by everything
that I don't want to be like.

I'll give a stupid lecture,
so that you understand.

There's a lot to grasp.

Yes, I'm scared.

I'm afraid of the old...

of children, of animals, drug addicts,
police, superiors, subordinates...

Don't you see you insult
them all by fearing them?

I'm afraid of sleeping,
I'm afraid of waking up.

I'm afraid of insiders,
I'm afraid of the tossed out...

I'm afraid of Negroes.

I'm afraid of waitresses,
head waiters, caretakers.

I'm afraid of farmers, chimney sweeps,
murderers, priests, thieves...

tax experts and fortune tellers.

I'm afraid of the cold,
of the sea.

I'm afraid of dogs and cats,
and the mentally defective.

- I'm afraid of cars.
- I understand!

You're very mean, you know.

I'm not afraid of what's real...

I'm afraid of what's NOT real.

All the way to Lisbon?

Is he still in love with you?

Why can't you tidy up, yourself?

I could but I don't want to.

I like it better
when it's untidy.

You like mess!

Not really, but it's my mess.

Well, it's not mine.

It's my room.

In the home that we share.

You don't tidy to make it neat.

So why would I tidy then?

So you can scold people.

It's bourgeois behaviour.

Things replace people.

I sometimes wonder
why I bother going on.

I just explained.

It was not a good explanation.

Maybe it's because
you like me, Mum.

It IS because you like me!

This feels like
emotional blackmail.

So I'm still keeping track
of you.

You're silly,
not leaving things alone.

I know I represent
something boring but necessary.

But maybe it's you
who's forced me to be that way.

No, I won't take the blame
for that.

"Necessary"!...

You have such strange ideas
about what is necessary.

And yours... are what?

Mummy... Crawl out
of your vending machine!

You put your quarter in and know
exactly what will spew out.

Is your quarter new and shiny?

It's what Dad calls a metaphor.

This is about cleaning?

No, it's about you
never talking to me.

Nonsense.

You talk to me,
ABOUT me.

I don't understand.

No, you don't understand.

There is never anything of yourself
in what you say to me.

- You are so damned egocentric!
- It sounds like the opposite.

You're too egocentric
to concern yourself about someone else.

I don't know...
it's been hard to connect with you.

What do you mean?

Something comes between us.

It's like bits of the body
hit out.

Is it me?

Probably not.

I've noticed that...

In our circles, people's bodies
disappear in their clothing.

They cease to exist.

There's no longer anywhere
for them to make their mark.

You patch, fix and wash and
iron on weekends.

And the shells...

Inside them...

I don't know.

Why don't you scream?

I do not know
if I have a voice left.

When you look at this, Hanna...

...you wonder what was so tempting
to poor St Anthony

It seems to be all terror,
dread and horror.

Temptations...? Of course!

Fear can also be a shelter
and a refuge.

It becomes evil
to flee the world...

instead of making use of it,
or allowing oneself to be used.

St Anthony yielded
to the temptations.

A saint shouldn't do that,
should he?

Did you say "The new thirst for saints"?

Did you say Lisbon?

Strange headline,
strange place.

Sure is.

A follow-up you said?

Yes, maybe I said that.

Yes, you did.

Of course, the magazine
has resources, but...

"Lisbon and the new thirst
for saints"?

Maybe it's nothing.

Yes it is!

I don't want to discourage
a young and hungry researcher

but Lisbon is too much,
and thirst is too little.

The range doesn't match
the specific gravity of the material.

Obviously.

Do you have any
more local saints?

They might arouse
a bit more thirst

No, I don't.

Lisbon...

If you'd said Vetlanda...

Lisbon sounds too high-brow.

Let's drop the subject.

Yes, well, you're here to learn.

A follow-up you said.

Or, professor,
lectured on the subject.

We don't need to revisit that.

Well to sum up...

Conclusion:
It's not something for us.

First, the freezing lake
disturbance...

then there was no job...

and then I bump into you.

That was a pity.

That I bumped into you
or missed out on a job?

Not even you can think
it was your fault.

In that case,
I'll accept the blame.

I couldn't stay in Lisbon.

Lisbon.

Saint Anthony.

You react strongly
when you're contradicted.

Do I?

I was a bit critical of your lecture.

But you might become a saint,
if you get scared enough?

Or was it so that...

Anthony's fear drove him into
magnificent self-deception?

Fear as temptation?

Well!

I don't think you've delivered
any bigger fight with the demons.

You think I'm nasty, trying
to improve what you say.

You're laundering St Anthony...

I'm trying to see that
you shrink in the wash.

I was in Lisbon.

So May told me.

So you know?

- Nothing came of it.
- So what happened?

It wasn't used.

Maybe it wasn't significant
singles behaviour.

Didn't you hear it
from the German experts?

We cancelled the series
after 2 episodes.

Hard to get material?

No, single people
are easy to find.

Readers just weren't interested.

It may be just the nature of it...

not being turned on
by single people.

Poor singles.

In Germany, they got a broad
and interesting debate started.

What a shame...

What a shame you
had to drop the series.

I am just a cancelled episode.

Very funny,
but it wasn't your fault.

No, I went to Lisbon.

That wasn't your fault either.

There are things that test us,
you know.

But anyway,
it's quite irrelevant.

We have more stuff to run
than we have room for.

- And so...
-...we tossed out the singles.

Is THAT what's eating you?

You want to be a little pathetic
and offended and felt sorry for.

- You've misunderstood it!
- How tiresome!

It's not about
what's fun or boring...

it's about a whole new
social attitude.

What fun!

You do not live
with your husband?

No. We find it stimulating.

There was an earthquake
in Lisbon in 1755.

Was there?
The Lisbon earthquake.

Yes, there was
a Lisbon earthquake.

It's listed under 'C'.

- 'C'?
- Catastrophes.

Could be usable some time.

Listen!

You have a lot to do...
things have to go to press...

And hopefully "Sorry"... but...

But I'm actually not
going to leave yet.

You really can do that!

- Enough of that!
- Is it disturbing?

I barely made out at all
before I graduated.

I was just pinned in a box.

Are you saying
you were a butterfly?

Then forgotten and rejected.

Written off as uninteresting.

Were there too few or too many?

You probably counted
on on too few.

Damn!

First, you don't want
to go along,

but when it's cancelled,
you feel offended!

You want to draw attention
to the fact

that you want to be left alone.

Even your silence
should be interesting!

Then we get hell
because it was cut short.

"You did not get out anymore?"

Even your silence
should be interesting!

"Professor Orr sits quietly."
That has significance.

"Professor Orr doesn't answer."

Then we'll come with a nice,
impressionist, personal description...

which you contradicted
and wanted changed

in a written complaint
to the editor-in-chief.

Button up your fucking shirt!

I don't want to button my shirt!

I'm your fucking material!

I don't give a shit whether
it bothers you or not!

Well, take it off!

Take it off instead of fumbling
with those stupid buttons!

Is that supposed to shock?

Don't you ever go to the movies?

Movies?

It's not the 19th century

and I can cope without screaming,
seeing a naked man!

I don't think that
you ARE coping...

I really think it bothers you.

It bothers you...

that you cope with it so utterly,
all the way to hell.

Poor little Anna-Berit!

She has to cope everything
and still have pathos.

She must understand everything,
have opinions.

I don't need this lecture!

No, no...

But maybe I need it.

Do you stand by that thing?

Yes, you do...

As well as you can.

Is that all you have to bring?

It can be due to me too.

It can be due to me too...

I'll retire to the corner
of the ring.

You're changing the topic.

"That wasn't any good."

I'm not changing the topic.

Perhaps there was nothing wrong
with the topic you had.

You're like a nagging child.

You have to try
every different way.

Can't you button up
your shirt now?

I'd love to go home.

I've a terrible desire
to go home.

So go home.

The project is cancelled.

You took hold of me...

baptised me...

took me out of my social context,
wrote about me and threw me away.

I presume you are talking to me.

It's ME you're talking about.

Lucky that you found me
to hang your misery on.

Your stately exit from home

might well have been planned
by the editorial office!

If that stateliness is difficult
to maintain...

then it's because I write badly.

What would it be like,
if you finally realised...

that you are totally
in your own hands?

The single man...

Nothing for the family side.

Not just YOU,
not just now.

Not just THEN.

Nope.

And nothing for the future either.

Are you asking?

Don't know.

No. The Professor doesn't ask.

He doesn't know
if he's asking or stating.

That's what you keep
well apart in journalism.

So, it's the alcoholics again?

Good, as long as
they hold on for you.

So what have you got for when
you've solved the alcohol question?

Was there anything more?

In my own hands, you said.

That's probably right.

Yes.

In his own hands.

A headline.

You anti-socialise
and finish up believing...

that you should find
a new identity.

In the end, you don't have strength
enough to even pose for yourself.

Then you are really alone.

We're doing a series about
new religious revivals.

It's underway now.

I'll read it.

I never stood in the "corner
of shame" as a child.

It was well abolished then.

The corner itself, yes.

Could you love me?

That came without warning!

Not really.

Could you love me?

Yes, very likely.

That was a nice way
of putting it.

You probably don't understand
what I'm referring to.

You're just thinking about
the connotation of a couple.

No I'm not.

You've written about
the extended family as well.

It was a big and positive job.

You live alone...
You say it's stimulating?

Yes, but in summer, then...

Yes, the time of year
will come into it.

'Bye then.

Goodbye.

Maybe we shouldn't
imagine anything...

Neither of us.

That's pretty much
what I was thinking.

So, then...?

Bye bye, single person.

- What do you mean?
- See you, single!

Is THIS the way
you intend to escape?

Does one escape being single?

- You'll always escape.
- What about here?

This lair for perspective and reason
with a dash of personality...

I feel like tearing it all apart!

Well go and do it
in your own home!

You were longing for home,
you said.

What about your series
on "the knick-knack society", then?

Did you unpack all this mess
and breed more for your research?

I can leave that there
as long as I want!

Racing home to hubby
mightn’t be so stimulating, but...

That belongs to me!

You can put on an act
with your own crockery.

I don't dare.

Anybody home?

- Home in the middle of the day?
- I've a free afternoon.

Ellen?

She's in Agadir with friends.

I'm worried there may be boys.

Probably.

It's so easy to travel
these days.

Maybe it's some kind of liberation.

Yeah.

Subtitles by FatPlank for KG