Saraband (2003) - full transcript

Johan became a multimillionaire

in his old age.

An old Danish aunt...

who had been a renowned

opera singer...

left him a fortune.

Once he became financially

independent, he left the university.

He bought his grandparents'

summer house.

A run-down chalet in an

isolated area near Orsa.

Johan and I

haven't had any contact

with each other

for many years.

Our daughters are far away,

even from me.

Martha lives in a home,

sinking in the isolation

of her illness.

I visit her now and then,

but she doesn't recognize me.

And Sarah... Sarah married

a successful lawyer...

and then moved to Australia where

they have very good jobs.

They don't have any children.

Me?

I still practice my profession,

but at the pace I choose.

Family quarrels and divorces mostly.

I've been thinking I

should visit Johan.

ONE

Marianne carries out her plan

I've been thinking...

I should visit Johan.

And now I'm here.

He's sitting there,

at the porch.

And I've been standing here,

watching him and...

waiting,

at least ten minutes.

Maybe I should have ignored

this irrational impulse.

This trip.

In fact,

I'm not an impulsive person at all.

But here I am...

And so I must decide:

Slowly return to my car...

or get close to him.

Of course, I could stay

here a while longer...

and let my confusion abate.

But not very long.

A minute more!

This minute is taking its time.

33 seconds...

47 seconds...

55 seconds...

No!

- Did I wake you?

- It's you, Marianne.

- Hi!

- No, don't get up.

- Typical, you were spying on me.

- That's not true.

We haven't seen each other in 30 years.

32 years!

- We simply lost track of

each other. - That's natural.

People start together,

then they separate

and talk by phone...

- and finally silence.

- So sad!

- ?Was that a reproach?

- No, we had nothing to say to each other.

Then suddenly you call me

and tell me you want to visit.

- You didn't sound very keen.

- Keen? I said no.

I still say no. I don't want this.

No. But you don't care.

- I had to come.

- Why?

- I won't tell you.

- You're laughing.

Johan...

I've driven 340 km....

and managed to find your hideout...

in the middle of the jungle.

Now that I've seen and kissed you

and we've spoken I can leave.

That won't be enough.

Really?

- At least you can stay over

for dinner. - Why?

A week ago,

I told Mrs. Nilsson...

that my ex wife was coming

to visit.

I can't tell her suddenly that there'll

be no dinner. She'll go crazy.

- Who's Mrs. Nilsson?

- Agda. Agda Nilsson.

Are you and her a couple?

God forbid!

The two of you live all alone here

in the midst of a dark forest?

Mrs. Nilsson lives in

the village.

She cleans and cooks

and then goes home.

- She's religious and mean.

- There's no romance then.

To be honest,

I fear the hag.

I fear that she might want to marry me.

Anyway, stay for dinner.

She's made up the guest room,

so you have to stay

and spend the night.

I suppose I better accept.

It's so hard to get up from

this chair. No, don't help me.

What's wrong, Johan?

I'm trying to put

my arms around you.

Want to hug me?

Damn, Johan!

Old idiot!

- And how old are you?

- I don't know, and you?

- 86.

- No, not you, me!

Around 55.

- I'm 63.

- Really? That many?

And I've had my uterus

and ovaries removed.

- Does that trouble you?

- Yes, sometimes.

Let's sit on the bench.

It's so beautiful!

When beauty is revealed...

in life, in creation...

Where is the source, the giver?

Beauty forever.

- I didn't know you knew some psalms.

- My grandmother taught me.

And my grandfather rewarded me

with little iron soldiers.

We can enjoy the view,

- hold hands...

- Are we going to hold hands?

- Didn't we used to do it?

- Yes, I believe so.

I haven't done it since...

I've stopped doing it.

You really have

a beautiful view.

Can you see the lake

house from here?

You can see the light reflected,

behind the rocks.

I drove by the lake house

coming here. It looks inhabited.

You could say that.

Henrik is there.

Yes, Henrik. Mi dear son.

The assistant professor.

- Are you on speaking terms?

- Not exactly.

I got a brief letter declaring that

he was planning on moving there.

He and his daughter Karin have

been there since late April.

You don't have much contact then.

Absolutely. A cordial conversation

if we run across each other.

- Fat boy Henrik!

He must be... - 61 !

- My God!

- You can say that again!

- And his daughter Karin?

- Karin is 19.

Her mother died of

cancer two years ago.

- Anna...

- Tell me.

Anna and Henrik were

married for 20 years.

He couldn't take her death.

He retired before his time.

I heard they were happy

to get rid of him.

He felt mistreated there.

- Like you, at that age.

- Me? No...

Well, yes, I was a bit fed up

with the academic standards silliness.

My honorary doctorate

from the University of Michigan...

finished all that.

- We were talking about Henrik.

He directs an orchestra called

"Uppsala Chamber Soloists".

But he'll quit that also.

He must do something.

I think he's writing a book.

- What about the daughter? Karin?

- Karin also plays the cello.

She'll audition for the

conservatory in the fall.

Henrik is teaching her.

They sit in the house with

their cellos every day.

You could say she's beautiful.

Like her mother.

Yes.

So...I know nothing

about our daughters.

- Sarah is in Australia.

- Australia?!

- Yes, Australia. - Well, she

managed to get far away.

I get letters and

phone calls from her.

She's fine. A good

law firm. A good husband.

- Sarah's happy with her life.

- And poor Martha?

Martha's sinking further and further.

She didn't recognize me.

She's no longer aware, in

our sense, of the world.

I understand...

- And you?

- I can't complain.

Though sometimes, I see myself

in voluntary isolation...

and I think I'm in hell.

Like I'm dead,

but I don't know about it.

But I'm fine.

I've plagiarized my past now that

I have the page of answers.

Doesn't sound like fun.

That's it, Marianne.

It's not.

And who the hell said

that damnation would be fun?

- What does your "page of answers

say"? - Want to know?

- I asked the question, didn't I?

- It says my life was shit.

A stupid and totally senseless life.

Is our marriage part

of your hell?

- To be honest, yes.

- I'm sorry to hear that.

An old priest once told me:

"A good relationship has two elements:

a good friendship

and an unshakeable eroticism".

Nobody can say that

we weren't good friends.

- Good friends.

- Of course.

- You were unfaithful. - I...

- I was too.

- It's so sad.

- But it was long ago.

- It's still painful.

- Not for me.

No, I suppose not.

- Dearest Marianne.

- That's what you say.

Yes, it's what I say.

It's nice to be here with you.

Holding hands,

Watching the beautiful view.

- Without talking about painful things.

- You're holding my hand.

Dinner! Mrs. Nilsson

will be furious if we're late.

Johan, I need to wash up

and get my bag from the car.

This was a mistake!

TWO

Nearly a week has passed

Are you Karin? Do you want

to speak to your grandfather?

Your grandfather and Mrs. Nilsson

went to the dentist.

I'm Marianne. I was your granddad?s

wife. I'm visiting.

- I know.

- Come on, sit down.

If you want, you can help me

clean out these mushrooms.

Here's a knife.

If you want to talk, we'll talk.

If not, we can just be together.

You must know Henrik,

my dad.

Can't say I do. I've just greeted him,

but I don't know him.

- Mom is dead.

- I know.

- She died two years ago.

- Your granddad told me.

- Dad retired and is spending his time

with music now. - The cello, right?

He's writing about

St John's Passion.

- You also play the cello?

- I hope to get into the conservatory.

- Your father is the teacher

and you are the student. -Yes.

What's wrong?

Do you know Hindemith's

cello sonata, opus 25?

I don't know anything about music.

Dad wants me to play it

for the audition.

- It's too hard!

- And doesn't he think so?

How were you in the days

before your period?

A premenstrual monster.

I would go to sleep as an angel,

and wake up as a demon.

My mind gets shattered.

And it's very hard for me to get up.

Dad is a morning person.

And I yawned.

We were working on

the fourth movement.

That damned Hindemith wrote:

"Lebhafte Viertel ohne jeden

Audsdruck und stets Pianissimo"

- You know?

- It looks difficult anyhow.

So I sat there with my

shattered mind and I tried.

I begged him to let me off

the hook, to no avail.

He made me play the same part

at least twenty times!

Finally I said. quietly:

"I don't give a damn about this".

I said that it wasn't a class,

it was animal torture.

Henrik was also angry,

but he laughed and said that I should...

try from the beginning, where it says:

"Lebhaft, sehr markiert...

mit festen Bogenstrichen."

I was so angry that I couldn't.

He said I was doing it on purpose.

I said that he didn't have the

skills to teach: I was unfair.

Dad is the most patient, sensitive and

courteous teacher there is.

He said it had nothing to

do with the teaching,

but rather with willpower

and discipline...

and that I was lazy.

That I was lazy!

Then I got up and left the

cello because I was trembling.

I said that it was enough for the day

and that I was going out for a walk.

He turned pale.

I'd never seen him like that.

And he said:

"You're not leaving".

I put my boots on and

headed for the door.

I didn't hear him approach,

but he grabbed me by the shoulders...

You're not leaving!

You're not leaving!

I sat and cried.

And I said: "Never again,

never again,

...never again".

And kept crying

until I felt empty.

Then I thought of coming over to see

granddad and begging him to help me...

leave that lunatic.

It was too much for me.

Now the old man can take

care of his crazy son:

send him to the farm,

go to the police...

or kill him.

Then I became aware that

from now on, I know nothing.

I know nothing about my life,

what I'll do or become.

Then I realized

that mom is dead,

and I can't ask her anything.

I was overcome with sorrow for

myself and cried again.

You must think I'm a very

nervous person, but I'm not.

- Do you think Henrik is suicidal?

- If he'd kill himself?

In an extreme situation like

the one you're describing...

could he hurt himself?

You know, to be honest,

I don't know my father very well.

I only know that deep

inside he's... good.

If not, mom never...

Mom loved him, you know?

They loved each other.

And I suppose I was

out of that love.

That's what I think when I'm feeling sorry for

myself and I get tired of my boyfriends.

Why can't I feel love

like mom did?

Were you afraid your dad would

kill himself after her death?

I never gave his

tragedy much thought.

But I tried to take care of mom,

as much as he'd let me.

Mom was never very talkative.

But on one of her last days...

She was always drowsy

from the morphine...

On one of her last days,

I was sitting beside her,

she looked at me and said clearly:

"You know I love you".

"You know I love you, Karin".

My mother never spoke that way.

Dad once said as a joke,

this was a long time ago,

"Anna never says I love you, but

her actions are always full of love".

- What if grandfather comes back?

- It's OK, I've got another bottle.

- Were you really married to grandpa?

- Is that so strange?

It's hard to imagine it.

What kind of person is he?

Good question.

- Did you love him? - I've asked myself

the same question all my life.

- Was he so difficult?

- We were married for 16 years.

Then we got divorced.

He had met another woman,

an idiot named Paula.

I got married again to

a boring glider pilot.

One day, he just flew away.

They never found him.

For some reason, Johan and I

got together several times.

Then I found out

he was servicing...

another lady,

a real whore.

I was angry and hurt

and finished with him.

I suddenly realized,

that I was the most cheated on

wife and lover in the world.

Johan was remarkably and

compulsively unfaithful.

- You mean that my grand father

-...was a real liar.

And he used to write poems. A volume got

published, but it wasn't successful.

- My grandfather used to write verses?

- Yes, even love poems for me.

- Did you keep them?

- No.

But did you love him?

I was terribly naive.

Nowadays, I suppose it's just

not possible to be so, so childish...

and so know-it-all like I was.

I think I loved him.

Utterly.

- You never suspected?

- Not for an instant.

- What made you come here

suddenly? - I don't know.

You still love him!

Don't you?

If you had to be honest,

Marianne...

I hear people say Johan

is this or that,

not very kind things usually.

But I don't know the Johan

they're talking about.

I always thought he was a good man.

Very, very good.

It was so easy to hurt him,

he could never defend himself.

I believe that Johan...

is a moving person.

He's moving.

- Are you crying?

- Yes, a little.

Are you crying for granddad?

- I'm crying for Johan

and Marianne. - I understand.

This is strange.

Dear...

- What will you do?

- Return to Henrik.

- Is that intelligent?

- It has nothing to do with that.

I'll stay here a few more days.

Let me know what happens.

I will.

THREE

About Anna

It can't happen again.

- Never again.

- Never.

We must have a serious talk.

We both know how things are.

There's nothing to sort out.

I'm glad it's so simple!

I was scared to death.

There's no other way to put it:

I was scared to death.

- Do you understand? - I'm very

tired. I'm going to sleep.

- Are you asleep?

- No.

Once I had a similar

situation with Anna.

We weren't married yet,

but we lived together.

Maybe I was a little drunk.

I said nasty things about...

the damned university,

my colleagues,

our work environment.

And then about my father,

that old bastard.

Anna didn't say a word.

And that upset me even more.

I remember thinking...

"What's on Anna's mind,

while she's sewing that skirt?"

"What's she thinking? Maybe

that Henrik is unbearable".

And then she said it.

"When you're like this,

I start thinking that you're

not the man I planned to marry".

Then she went to the living

room and started to pack.

I tried to stop her.

She didn't move...

but a message got through

from her body to mine.

It said "I'm leaving...

I'm leaving you".

Then I said, with a voice that was

foreign to me: "Nobody leaves me".

"Nobody leaves me"

"Nobody turns his back on me

and leaves... ".

I sat on the floor and

thought: "It's over".

I shut my eyes and thought:

"Anna's leaving and she won't return".

But then I heard her

going around the kitchen.

She was making coffee.

But she didn't say a word.

Maybe she wanted to sober me up.

She didn't say anything for the rest

of the evening: just kept on sewing.

Anna was the silent type

anyway, she never spoke much.

But we didn't need to speak;

we always knew...

I begged her to forgive me.

Like a child to his mother:

"I won't do it again".

It's just what I want to say to you,

but it sounds ridiculous.

Anyone can say "I'm sorry",

but it's meaningless.

So no further words

were spoken that night.

It became a...

distant night.

Anna sunk into a deep sleep: I

stayed awake listening to her breathing.

I watched her, a street light

shone through the window.

I gazed at her for a long time and

wondered if she really knew...

how much I loved her.

Between Anna and me it was a question

of belonging, if you know what I mean.

An ownership that was...

a miracle. I know it sounds fatuous.

There's no better word.

I fell asleep as dawn approached,

and when the alarm clock rang,

we got up, had breakfast

and chatted as usual.

I went to a class

and Anna went to the library.

This is an explanation:

not an excuse.

I have no excuses.

If you leave me...

I?ll be ruined, or some other

word that doesn't exist.

In due time, you'll have your freedom.

You'll go to the conservatory...

With professional teachers

and a different life.

It'll be different for me also.

These months with you have

been "a state of grace".

For me, that is,

not for you.

It was kind of you

to return so soon.

I don't know what to say.

It's all so complicated.

We don't have to

speak about that.

Sometimes I feel a great

punishment awaits me.

FOUR

About a week later,

Henrik visits his father.

"Kierkegaard, S.

Or A Fragment of Life"

- Am I interrupting?

- Oh, so it's you.

It's been a long time.

- How are you?

- Well, thank you, and you?

At 60 there's 6 things wrong with you,

at 70, 7 and so on.

It's a good evaluation: Of course,

it depends on your priorities.

- I heard about your ex wife's unexpected visit.

- Typical Marianne.

She's always known I

hate improvisation.

- Maybe I can see her.

- She's gathering strawberries.

I don't know if you'll be

here when she returns.

- I don't mean to disturb you.

- Thanks for being considerate.

What do you want?

I need 890,000 kroner.

An advance on my inheritance.

- You need money again.

- I know, I owe you 200,000.

- That you haven't even begun to pay back.

- Don't worry, I'll pay it back.

I'm sure I'll never

see that money again.

It's funny to

consider it a "loan".

If humiliating me amuses you,

let's not forget...

I'm not paying rent

on the lake house.

We've been there for five months

and you haven't seen a cent.

But you were able

to buy a new car.

It's a loan.

The owner is away.

When he returns in October,

I'll be without a car.

- How's the book going?

- Well, thank you.

That's a thorough answer.

I've been here ten minutes,

letting you humiliate me.

If I didn't need the money,

I'd have left long ago.

You can leave now.

It's not for me.

It's for Karin.

I see...

Marianne told me you two argued.

Are you trying to make her stay?

Do you think she'll accept a bribe?

I wonder how Anna

was able to stand you.

Don't bring Anna into this.

Don't you dare mention

Anna with that mouth.

I like you more or dislike you

less when you use that tone.

There's a healthy dose of

hate in your banalities.

It's like this:

There's a cello I can buy Karin;

an 1815 Fagnola.

It's an excellent instrument,

almost like a Guarneri.

Karin has a special talent,

she could become a great musician.

I took care of her instruction,

but her talent calls for more.

Like her cello.

Her German cello is passable,

but she'll audition

for the conservatory.

Are you sure it's good?

It wouldn't be the first

time they fool you.

It has an authenticity certificate

- and the seller is decent.

- Is that why it's so cheap?

He's old and sick and can't

take care of it any more.

- He said it's perfect for her.

- How touching.

Dad, where does all this

hostility come from?

Speak for yourself. When you were

18 or 19 I tried to approach you.

You had been very ill and your

mother wanted us to talk.

I told you I knew I had been a bad father,

but I wanted to make it better.

And you screamed.

Yes, screamed:

Bad father?!

You never were a father!

Then you said you could

do without my help.

Honest hate must be respected;

I respect it.

But I couldn't care less if

you hate me. You hardly exist.

If it wasn't for Karin,

who thank God is like her mother,

you wouldn't exist at all for me.

There's no hostility here, I swear.

Give me the name and number

of the cello owner and I'll see.

- Here you are.

- Thank you.

- What's your answer?

- I'll let you know.

Can I go?

I'm leaving.

- Can I just say one thing?

- Only if you must.

That tale of an argument

fifty years ago in no excuse.

Poor Anna.

Will you hit me now?

FIVE

I hope I'm not interrupting.

No, I've just finished.

I practice in the mornings.

The organist is expecting:

I'm replacing her.

- I thought you played the cello.

- I have an organ diploma.

In my time,

it was smart to have one.

There were a lot of churches

and few orchestras.

What were you playing?

A Bach sonata for a trio.

First movement.

- It was beautiful.

- This is a unique organ from 1728.

Nobody knows how it ended up here,

in the middle of nothing.

A few weeks ago, Karin and I

played a concert here.

It was almost full.

- Will you be playing any more concerts?

- I don't have the time.

Karin has to prepare her audition

and I have to finish my book.

Yes, I'm writing a book about

Bach's Passion of St. John.

I met Karin.

They say she's talented.

She's considered exceptional,

and not only by her dad.

- Are you her teacher?

- That's the way it's turned out.

In the conservatory, she'll

have the best European teachers.

- Won't it be difficult to let her go?

- Yes.

You could say that.

- Do you love her a lot?

- Yes.

- I'm sorry.

- No, it's all right.

- Karin is like Anna.

- She doesn't look like her.

What's wrong?

Whenever I mention Anna,

I cry. That's the way it is.

I can't help it.

She's been dead for two years and

it still hurts just the same.

That's the way it is.

Life itself has become a ritual.

I don't know, I can't find

words to describe it.

I've become a handicapped person.

Just like that.

Handicapped.

Karin is everything that

lends sense into my life.

And so...

It wouldn't have much

sense without her.

I think a lot about

death these days.

I think:

One day I'll walk through

the forest to the river.

A foggy, windless autumn day.

Absolute silence.

Then I see someone

by the gate.

Coming towards me. She's

wearing a denim skirt...

A blue jacket...

She's barefoot and her hair

is tied up in a long pony tail.

And she's walking towards me.

Anna is walking towards me,

through the gate.

And then I realize I'm dead.

Then something strange happens.

I think: "Is it this easy?"

We spend life thinking about

death and what comes after.

And then it's so easy.

I can see a flickering light

in the music. Like Bach.

- I think I understand.

- Come for dinner tonight.

- We're good cooks.

- Thanks, I like that.

I have to go now,

we've got a class.

Karin gets angry

if I'm late.

- See you soon.

- Wait, I don't think I can go.

- I understand. The old man

would get mad... - No.

- Why did you come here?

- I don't know.

You're a lawyer, right?

Can I sue him?

- Why would you want to do that?

- He's got a fortune and won't die.

He's probably mummified

by his own evil.

I asked him for an advance on my

inheritance, but he humiliated me.

I'd love to sue him.

Not while he's

mentally competent.

- He's not ill in that sense.

- No, he's not ill.

Are you here to ask for money

for a poor abandoned wife?

Don't get angry.

Of course I ask myself.

You haven't had

contact for decades.

I'm not here to ask for money.

Are you fucking?

Do you hate him so much to

have to talk this way?

Forgive me for desecrating this

place and ruining our chat.

I hate him in all possible

dimensions of the word.

I hate him so much, I would like to

see him die from a horrible illness.

I'd visit him every day,

just to witness his torment.

Maybe I'm just a pathetic

soul. Theoretically.

I see surprise and displeasure

in your eyes.

As a lawyer,

you should be used to...

the stupidity and repulsiveness

in the world.

Goodbye, Marianne. It was nice

of you to listen to me.

Sometimes I think I'm insane.

I suffer all the time.

SIX

AN OFFER

- Karin!

- Hi, granddad.

- Well... this is my study.

- I haven't been here for years.

You and Anna would come sometimes,

when you were living at the lake house.

- You used to smoke then.

- Yes, you're right.

I stopped when I read

Freud's biography.

33 operations for a mouth cancer.

- And even then he couldn't stop smoking.

- Bur are you all right?

Unless you consider

aging an illness.

- That's a beautiful picture of mom.

- I found it by chance.

I had it blown up...

and there it is.

I think of mom every day.

And dream of her at night.

I thought the pain would subside.

But that's not happening.

But it doesn't hurt like in the

beginning, now it's here.

Like a part of me.

I wouldn't want to be without her.

I can say I miss her,

painfully.

We didn't see each other very often,

due to Henrik and I.

Anna tried and tried.

But Henrik and I never

managed... well, you know.

- You wanted to speak to me?

- Yes, sit down.

Last night, Mrs. Nilsson came

personally to deliver a letter.

Meaning that dad shouldn't...

That was all right.

He's in Uppsala with his orchestra.

I have here a letter that came a

few days ago, and it involves you.

- Have you heard of Ivan Chablov?

- Director in St. Petersburg.

He toured here recently with

the philharmonic. Fantastic!

I've known him since my years in

Leningrad. This letter is from him.

"Johan, my dear friend and brother".

"Sorry for writing in my

poor English and German"

"but my excellent secretary

has just had twins".

"It's very important that I

write you, my dear friend".

"For the following reason:"

"On a free night, I went to a

young musician's concert".

"I must say I was

surprised and happy".

"A young female cellist was playing...

"a Zoltan Kodaly solo piece."

"And I was surprised by that

young performer's talent."

-"Her maturity, her skill

and courage". - Well, I'll be!

"The school gave me her name...""

"and told me her father

was her teacher."

"I got in touch with him,

but he rejected me curtly,"

"maybe arrogantly is a better word."

"My dear Johan,

I know you're ..."

her grandfather.""

"And that's the reason why

I'm writing you."

"The young lady's technique is

risky, somewhat lacking:""

"which could result in

a future catastrophe".

"I'm a guest professor at

Helsinki's Sibelius Academy,""

"One of the best in Europe."

"I have a good rapport

with the president."

"And we could, after

the mandatory exam,""

"offer our young cellist

a quality education..

that her talent

obviously deserves."

Let me know your answer as soon

as possible. My embrace, Ivan.""

So, Karin, what do you say?

Maybe I should add...

that I'll take care of all your

expenses as long as you need it.

I've spoken to the cello seller:

I've made him a good offer.

More than he was asking for.

So if you want it, it's yours.

Assuming, of course, that you

accept Chablov's kind offer.

I don't know what to say.

It's overwhelming.

I understand this letter puts

you in an awkward situation.

- I'll write him and tell him

that you're... - Flattered.

But that your decision

affects others.

- Others?

- Your father, specifically.

I need to rest.

Goodbye, Karin.

Thanks for the chat.

Marianne used to say that I was

a terrible character judge.

That I didn't understand emotions.

But even I understand this:

Your mother lived

in this world...

to do the most unbearable chore.

Darkness got even darker...

and light faded away

when Anna died.

It's hard for Henrik. To live.

Despite everything.

You're like your mother.

And I'm fond of you, Katja.

- Goodbye, Karin.

- Goodbye, grandfather.

SEVEN

ANNA'S LETTER

- To Henrik from Anna?

- I found it in a book.

May 18. Anna...

wrote it one week

before dying.

I'd like you to read it.

I can't understand Anna's handwriting.

You'll have to read it to me.

I'll try.

Here, have some whisky.

Mom had found out a

few days before...

that she didn't have

much time left.

She wrote the letter because

Henrik had a cold...

and wasn't allowed to visit her.

It says:

"The fact that you can't

visit me is, perhaps,

a relief for both".

"We understand each other well.

You open the door."

"I make an effort.

You make an effort".

"But I still see in your

eyes how sick I am".

This is the difficult part.

- She writes about dad and me.

- Is that painful?

Yes.

When you were with

her at the hospital,

did you speak about

what she had written?

- No, never.

- What did she write?

"Dear Henrik, I have to tell you

something of which we've never spoken".

"I've wanted to talk

to you about Karin".

"But it was never necessary

because I was always there".

"Then I got sick

and I was there no longer".

"Of course I was there,

but you kept me apart".

"You and I love each other.

I was sure about our love".

"But no love is strong enough...

to stand a devastating

effect like my illness".

"I see that you love Karin, but that

you also tie her to you".

"It's good that you were her

teacher, but there's a limit".

"When I'm no longer there,

the limit will be unclear".

"I know that Karin loves you".

"But you mustn't use her love.

You'll hurt her".

"That could be a permanent wound".

"That's why I ask

you to let her go".

"You shouldn't take

advantage of her kinship".

"Don't take advantage of her because

you're her self-proclaimed teacher.

"Dearest Henrik".

"You're so sensitive,

so considerate, so kind".

"I know it, without a doubt,

after so many years together".

"But you must be careful

not to burden Karin...

with the orphaned love that will remain

when I'm no longer there".

There's more,

but I don't want to read any more.

I can't.

It hurts so much!

I can hear my mother's voice!

Karin...

Why did you reach out to me?

- You're very involved.

- You could say that.

- And you know about granddad?s

plans. - He told me.

I don't expect advise,

I need to hear my voice aloud.

I believe things will

clear up this way.

Go ahead, speak.

- Mom saw.

- Yes, I think so.

And everything she warned

about has happened.

- I can't accept grandfather's

offer. - Why not?

If I leave Henrik, he'll die!

If I leave him, he'll die...

I'm sure about it, Marianne...

He doesn't even have

his orchestra anymore!

He can go on with his music,

but the county is reorganizing...

and dad will not be part of

the administration: he'll resign.

I can't leave him.

I'm so tired of him sometimes!

I know all the things

I can do in the future.

But mom is dead, and Henrik

can't manage his own life.

How do you think I'd feel with the

guilt if something happened to him?

My future and Henrik's

are entwined for now.

- At least you say "for now".

- Only for consolation.

- I want you to know that I don't

feel the same as you. - I know.

- Anna's love...

- That letter is love.

Isn't it?

I don't know.

EIGHT

- Back already? - There wasn't

much to do in Uppsala.

- Hi, dad.

- Hi, little Katja.

What score is that?

Bach's suites for cello!

You're mad!

Listen, Anderberg suggested

that you and I...

play a concert in November.

- It's very hard for me.

- We'll play together.

- What do you mean together?

- Like a dialogue, facing each other.

You'll play the parts you can handle

and I'll play the difficult ones.

Especially the prelude.

It'll be great!

- Which parts can I play?

- The Sarabandes, for example.

- It takes a lifetime to tame them.

- We have three months.

- And my audition?

- It's almost ready.

And students get permission

to play concerts.

I've spoken to B?rtz.

It'll be good for the both of us,

now that I don't have the orchestra.

I won't even be the first

violin any longer.

- Dad! You must be furious!

- Perhaps.

But now I'll have

more time for you.

- I can help you better.

- Yes, of course.

That doesn't sound

very encouraging.

Hello, Katja, darling.

I have a feeling an

argument is coming.

- What's wrong, Katja?

- I don't know.

That is, I think I know,

but I don't know how to...

I know you've talked

to your grandfather.

- And with the bitch, I mean Marianne.

- Yes.

- I see. You did it beautifully.

- I must decide.

- I thought you had already done that.

- No, you did it.

Really? I mean,

is that what you've been thinking?

Dad...

I haven't bothered to think.

I thought, "Dad knows

what's best for me".

Perhaps you've already made

up your mind, haven't you?

Will you accept your

grandfather's offer?

- Have you read this?

- I have.

- You read the letter that mom

wrote me? - It speaks about me.

But it was for me!

And you read it. Just like that.

Do you think that's all right

because it speaks about you?

If you're going to get so upset,

it's no use talking about it.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

- I said I'm sorry, damn it!

- Why do you say you're sorry?!

Shall we get to work?

Or is there something else?

Dad...

It'll be painful.

For you or for me?

It may sound stupid,

but your tone frightens me.

I've made up my mind. For the first

time in my life it's my decision.

- But are you sad?

- Yes, I'm sad.

If you had told me you

had that letter from mom...

If you had let me read it,

maybe we could have...

You never told me...

You should have...

- Well, that's the way it is.

- How?

Next week, I'm going

to Hamburg with Emma.

She and I will be going to a school

for young orchestra musicians.

Claudio Abbado will come in

October and we'll go to Munich.

It's for young people from all over Europe.

You can't be older than 22.

Abbado will work with us for six weeks

and we'll play four concerts.

Emma recorded a video. She sent it

to the admission committee, as a joke...

We played Brahms.

Emma and I

got a letter...

which says the school accepts us.

That we're welcome.

And that...

That's exactly

what I want to do.

And it's exactly what

I've decided to do.

And the conservatory?

- How long is the Hamburg course?

- Two years.

Then there's a paid internship in

an Austrian or German orchestra

Three years.

- How will you pay for it?

- I have my inheritance.

- You've been thinking a lot.

- I told Emma it was useless.

That you had already decided.

God...

Oh God...

But dad, I don't want to...

I don't consider myself a soloist.

I want to play in an orchestra,

be part of a team effort.

Not sit down in a stage,

alone and exposed.

I don't want strangers to say

that I'm not good enough.

I want to decide my own future.

I want a simple life

I want to be... home.

To live a normal life.

Not a poor substitute for mom...

who gets your praise

for something I'm not.

It has to end.

And now it's ended.

At least,

give it the perfect ending.

What are you talking about?

Wouldn't you like to

play the fifth Sarabande?

- Right now?

- Yes, please.

NINE

CRUCIAL MOMENT

He's here.

Thank you.

- Can I ask who it was?

- From the hospital.

Henrik tried to commit suicide.

With pills.

Then he cut his arms

and neck with a knife.

He's in intensive care.

Call this number and

ask for nurse Ingegerd.

- God. - They found him

at the last moment.

A certain Mrs. Berg

was walking by the house...

- and saw a naked person

on the floor. - God.

The door was unlocked.

She tried to wake him up,

but he was unconscious.

And bleeding. The ambulance

took 20 minutes. - My God.

I should call Karin,

but she's on her way to Hamburg.

Henrik systematically fails at everything.

He can't even kill himself.

- Say something, for God's sake.

- You want me to answer that?

- Whatever. Say something spontaneous

for once. - You can't.

Sometimes you act like

a forgotten character...

in some stupid old movie.

- You're not real.

- You don't say.

- Right now... no, let's leave it.

- No, go on.

Where did you gather

all this disdain?

I didn't remember you like this.

- Disdain?

- Yes!

I don't know. Any disdain

I have is for myself.

I don't know.

I never thought of it this way.

- And the poor boy?

- Boy?

Ah, Henrik. Maybe he realized

he was a lot like me.

I was never like him. So ridiculous

all the time. Obese and submissive.

He surrounded me with a sticky love.

I admit I ignored that love.

He was as dedicated as a dog.

I wanted to kick him, metaphorically.

- What will happen now?

- How will this affect Karin?

- She'll blame herself.

- She should have thought about it.

- Do you think she'll return home?

- I don't know.

- You'll speak to her, won't you?

- If we find her.

I'll hire you as my agent.

How much do you charge?

Money is no problem.

As long as you put her

guilt in a safe.

What if she comes?

She loves that bastard.

- That would be disastrous!

- Yes, I believe so.

What can I say?

I was so close to Anna.

It was terrible when she left.

For me also.

Even though I was on the

outskirts of the catastrophe.

It's incomprehensible that Henrik...

had the privilege

of loving Anna.

And that she loved him.

- You're smiling ironically.

- No.

I'm not smiling.

I'm trying not to cry.

There's no reason for you to cry.

There is, but I won't

give any explanations.

TEN

THE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN

Marianne.

Marianne!

Sorry to wake you up.

It's all right.

I'll go back to sleep.

- What's wrong? Johan?

- I don't know.

- I think it's anguish.

- Anguish? What do you mean?

- I see! You're sad!

- I'm not sad...

It's worse. It's an anguish

from hell. It's bigger than me.

It's trying to make way through

every orifice in my body;

my eyes, my ass. It's like a huge

mental diarrhea!

I'm too small for this anxiety.

Are you afraid of death, Johan?

More than anything,

I'd like to scream.

What can you do with a baby

that won't be comforted?

- Come, lay by my side.

- There's no room.

- We've slept in smaller beds.

- We won't be able to sleep.

It doesn't matter. Not in

the last days of our lives.

I have to take off my shirt.

It's damp from my diarrhea.

Come on.

You take it off too.

Yes

Come on, Johan.

Come here.

There... lie down.

- Good night, Marianne.

- Good night.

Could you explain why

you turned up here?

- I thought you were calling me.

- I never called anyone.

- I had it in my head.

- How strange.

I understand your not understanding.

- How long will you stay?

- I have a case on the 27th.

- November?

- October.

- Good night, again.

- Good night.

Perhaps you're asking

yourself how it came out.

I stayed with Johan

until early October.

Our time together

was relaxingly pleasant.

We almost never talked about

sensitive subjects.

The last night we celebrated.

Nothing out of this world,

but good enough.

We promised to remain in touch.

I think we even fantasized

about a trip to Florence...

the next spring.

That trip never

happened, of course.

But we used to speak on

the phone on Sundays.

Then, one day Mrs. Nilsson

answered the phone.

She said that Johan

couldn't take any calls,

but that he would write.

I asked if he was all right;

she said yes, as far as she could tell.

That he was just tired and

that he would be writing.

I never got a letter, of course.

I wrote him, but never got an answer.

That's all I know.

Things are always all

right with me. In order.

Everything in its place. Maybe I'm a

bit lonely, but I don't know.

Sometimes... I think of Anna.

I wonder how she

managed her life.

How she spoke...

How she moved...

Her look...

That almost surreal smile.

Anna's feelings.

Anna's love.

Well...

Something happened to me that

perhaps is related to this.

When I came back, I visited

my daughter Martha at the sanatorium.

But I thought about

the enigma...

that for the first

time in our lives...

I realized...

I felt...

that I was touching my daughter.

My baby.