Steppenwolf (1974) - full transcript

"The day went by, just as days go by."

"l killed it in accordance with my
primitive and withdrawn way of life."

"l worked for an hour
or two, I had pains..."

"took some opium, and Iay
in a hot bath for two hours."

"Was glad when the pains
consented to disappear."

"All in all, it wasn't
exactly a day of rapture."

"Perhaps the time has come to follow
the example of Adalbert Stifter."

"A fatal accident while shaving."

"The pain stops."

"l am content."

"Contentment that
fills me with loathing."



"ln desperation I escape
into other regions..."

"if possible, on the
road to pleasure..."

"or if that cannot be,
on the road to pain."

"A wild Ionging seethes
in me to smash and burn..."

"to destroy..."

"pull down idols,
seduce little girls..."

"dynamite the established
order, who cares what."

"Herr" Haller.

- Are you all right?
- Oh, yes, yes.

I'm sorry if I startled you.

I didn't hear you coming up.

My thoughts "were..."

wool gathering.

Are you sure you're all right?



- May I help you upstairs?
- No, no, no, there's no need.

Sit down a moment, if
you can spare the time.

It is not my custom to sit on the
stairs at other people's doors.

Yes, quite so.

Now you've embarrassed me.

Let me explain.

I've taken quite a fancy to
this little "vestibule..."

polished, scoured, "glittering..."

like your aunt's below.

I always have to take a
deep breath when I go by.

It reeks of "peace..."

and tranquility.

I've always sought
places like this to live.

You see, I need it, don't you see?

But you are ill.

Nonsense.

Only a shabby old "Steppenwolf..."

creeping up the stairs
of other people's houses.

Pains I have "sometimes..."

as elderly people do.

"Elderly" is a little bit exaggerated.

You can't be 50 yet.

No, you're right, more's the pity.

But not long to wait, either.

Wait, you, hey.

Let me see your sign.

What is this evening
entertainment? Where is it?

Not for everybody.

Now, what do you have here? I
want to buy something from you.

"There once was a man called
Harry, who went on two legs..."

"wore clothes, and was a human being."

"Nevertheless he really
was a wolf of the steppes."

"ln his childhood he was
wild and disobedient..."

"and disorderly."

"And those that brought him up declared a
war of extinction against the beast in him."

"And precisely this had given him
the idea he really was a beast..."

"with only a thin veneer of the human."

"lf Harry had a beautiful thought
or felt a fine and noble emotion..."

"the wolf laughed with bitter scorn."

"He knew well enough what suited him."

"But when Harry behaved as a wolf,
the human part of him lay in ambush..."

"called him "brute" and "beast,"
and spoiled all pleasure..."

"in his simple and healthy
and wild Wolf's being."

"lt cannot be denied that he
was generally very unhappy."

"And he could make others unhappy, too."

"For he always brought his
own dual and divided nature..."

"into the destinies of others."

"Nevertheless he was
secretly and persistently..."

"attracted to the bourgeois world..."

"dressed respectably,
had money in the bank..."

"and supported poor relations."

"He was capable of loving
the political criminal..."

"or intellectual seducer."

"But as for theft, murder, or rape..."

"he would not have known
how to deplore them..."

"otherwise than in a
thoroughly bourgeois manner."

"Now, what we call the bourgeois as
a principle of human existence..."

"is nothing less than
a search for balance."

"lt is in the middle of the road
that the bourgeois seeks to walk."

"Always ready to compromise between
right and wrong, good and evil."

"He will never surrender either
to the martyrdom of the spirit..."

"orto the martyrdom of the flesh."

"The vital force of the bourgeoisie
resides in its outsiders."

"Artists and intellectuals
like Harry..."

"who develop far beyond the level
possible to the bourgeois..."

"Knowing the bliss of meditation no less than
the gloomy joys of hatred and self-loathing."

"He is nevertheless captive
to the bourgeoisie..."

"and cannot escape it."

"Unless, if suffering has made his
spirit tough and elastic enough..."

"he finds a way of reconciliation
and an escape into humor."

"The outsider has two
souls, two beings..."

"God and the devil, in him..."

"and these men for whom
life has no repose..."

"live in their rare
moments of happiness..."

"with such strength and
indescribable beauty..."

"the spray of their
momentary ecstasy..."

"is flung so high over the
wide sea of suffering..."

"that the light of it touches
others with its enchantment."

"But only the strongest of them..."

"force their way through the
atmosphere of the bourgeois world..."

"to reach the cosmic."

"There never was a man with a deeper and
more passionate craving for independence..."

"than Harry."

"He never sold himself for money
or an easy Iife, orto women..."

"orto those in power..."

"and had thrown away a hundred
times his advantage in happiness..."

"in order to safeguard his liberty."

"But in the midst of his freedom,
Harry suddenly realized..."

"that his freedom was a death..."

"and that he stood alone."

"Finally, at the age
of 47 or thereabouts..."

"a happy but not harmless
idea came to him..."

"from which he often
derived some amusement."

"He appointed his 50th
birthday as the day..."

"on which he might take
leave of this world."

"Let happen to him what might."

"He could bear any suffering..."

"saying to his pain..."

""Only wait two years..."

""and I am your master.""

"And with this, he cherished
the thought of the morning..."

"of his 50th birthday."

"Suicide, unhappy Steppenwolf..."

"will not serve your purpose."

"All this is well known to you."

"You are aware of the
wisdom of the immortals."

"You are aware of the
Magie Theater of the self."

"That mirror in which you have
such a bitter need to look..."

"but from which you shrink
in such deathly fear."

No show tonight?

Well, I only meant, at the theater.

Try the Black Eagle, friend.

If it's a show you "want..."

I'm sorry.

I'm afraid I mistook you "for..."

I'm sorry.

My dear "Herr" Haller.

You've been here all this time
without once coming to see us.

Not at all, "l..."

arrived only a few days ago.

I'm sorry to hear that.

And "I..." I've "been..."

Ah, here you are, "mon cher."

I've just been reading about this
despicable namesake of "yours..."

this Haller.

- Who's that? A writer?
- A writer?

Dear me, no, a "scribbler..."

- a wretched
scribbler. - Uh-huh.

A publicist, a rotten "patriot..."

and a sneak.

Here, just look for yourself.

It's even spelled the
same way, isn't it?

Rather.

He seems to feel that we were
responsible for the war. Imagine.

Oh.

Shall we go in, please?

Yes.

A funny thing happened to me today.

Really?

Yes.

Just after we parted at
the Iibrary, by the way.

I haven't been able to
stop thinking about it.

Well, I was climbing
the last steps "up..."

towards Martinsgasse.

When suddenly a "little..."

procession came rattling by.
A funeral procession.

Oh, my dear.

Come, come, come! "Seigneur."

No.

I only "mean..."

I'm sorry.

I'm praying for a hero
to be born among us.

Miraculous births not excluded.

To filter the minutest "detail..."

the contours of the very
archetype within "us..."

apocalypse is our only hope.

I see.

I hope that Goethe didn't
really look Iike this.

This conceited air of "nobility..."

the great man ogling the
distinguished company.

His venerable pomposity
is bad "enough..."

but to portray him like this...

Oh, no! My God.

My dear, you're not ill?

You'll have to take your
coffee alone, gentleman.

I have to retire.

She was hurt, you know.

Goethe is her dearest possession.

Nobody takes our cultural heritage
more seriously than my Hildegard.

- I'm sorry.
- Even if you were "right..."

you needn't have been so outspoken.

Well, it's a vice of
mine to speak my mind.

As friend Goethe did, too. At
Ieast, in his better moments.

I sincerely beg your
wife's pardon and your own.

Please tell her I'm a schizophrenic.

If you will permit me,
I will take my Ieave.

"But..." But your coffee, and our talk.

I am so looking forward to
our discussion of "Mithras..."

and Krishna and the others.

Unfortunately, my interest
in Krishna has "vanished..."

along with my passion
for learned discussions.

Further, I have been lying.

I have not been in town for a
few days only, but for months.

However, I am no longer
fit for decent society.

I am nearly always in bad "temper..."

afflicted with gout,
and usually quite drunk.

Lastly, you grievously
insulted me earlier.

That rotten patriot named, oddly enough,
Haller, stands before you unregenerate.

In fact, it would be
better for the "world..."

if the few of us who are still capable
of thought stood for "reason..."

- and the love of "peace..."
- Hold it, "mon cher..."

... instead of driving
obsessively toward a new war.

"Good night."

"I can't go on."

"The wolf howling at my heel."

"l know what he wants,
an end to our suffering."

"So let this evil day be our last."

"But I want to live. Run, Harry, run."

"But where?"

"Away, anywhere."

"lt's all the same in the end."

Go ahead and pick one, sir.

It all comes to the same
thing in the "end..."

don't it?

That's what I always say.

It's all the same in the end.

"Must go home."

"Try to remain still..."

"before despair."

"Go home."

"Take up the razor..."

"Lay it down again."

"Let cowardice once again
triumph over despair."

"For another hour..."

"another day."

"No matter how many times
I Iay the razor clown..."

"l shall take it up again..."

"and again..."

"until..."

"finally..."

Hello.

Don't tell me my nose is shiny again.

That's better.

Hard night?

Where am I?

Where else could you be at this hour?

I've no idea.

The Black Eagle.

"If it's a show you want..."

Don't panic.

I'll look after you.

What's the matter with you,
anyway? Lost your way home?

"No..." Yes.

I can't go home.

Stay here if you Iike.

What's this?

You could do it here, if you Iiked.

Oh, for heaven's sake, it's only a joke.

Get cleaned up a Iittle is all I meant.

Look at yourself.

You're enough to give
a poor girl the willies.

At least wipe your glasses.

You can't see a thing.

Now, what shall we drink?

Bourgogne?

Where did you get "that..." That razor?

Do you always fetch a razor
along in your bag Iike that?

Usually.

Why?

Oh, look, it's a long,
complicated, very twisted story.

I'll tell you some day.

A friend left it at my place.

- You've got Iots of friends, I suppose.
- Yes. Don't you?

No.

Oh my, you are a sad case.

I'll bet it's a long time
since you had to obey anyone.

Is that what I need?

Obedience is like sex. Nothing like it
if you have been without it too long.

You'll follow my orders.

I will?

Do you have any choice?

No.

Good. We're off to a swell start.

We've wiped your glasses,
had a bite to eat.

Let's clean your boots
and go dance a shimmy.

Oh, I don't know how to dance.

- Oh, how "triste."
- I never learned.

Well, you see, I really am hopeless.

Perhaps you'd better go home
and hang yourself after all.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Doesn't anyone look after you?

A wife, a sweetheart?

I'm divorced.

A sweetheart, yes, but
she doesn't live here.

And we don't get along very well anyway.

Well, you are difficult.

- Nobody can stand you.
- Just don't scold me.

I know I am impossible,
I'm hopeless, I'm helpless.

What's this?

The world's saddest song, played
on the world's smallest violin.

You've got a nerve saying you've
tasted life to the "bottom..."

and found nothing in it.

You haven't even tried
the easy, fun part yet.

All I can say is I'm certainly
glad I'm not your "maman."

Gee, Harry, I'm "sorry..."

I've got to flee. I have a date.

- With whom?
- Never you mind.

- A friend.
- Listen, I "thought..."

I thought you were going
to stay here with me.

Oh, then you should have asked me to.

But I am asking you now.

Too late.

All right, tomorrow, then.

Uh-huh. Maybe.

But wait. Listen.

Well, tell me your name at least.

Oh, now you ask. What
a dreadful man you are.

You'll have to guess it.

Margaret.

Molly.

Madeleine.

That's for next time.

Tuesday for dinner
at the Old Franciscan.

I know, it's probably not
elegant enough for "you..."

but I am fond of it.

It makes me dream of St. Francis.

- You're religious?
- No. Not really anymore.

But you know, when I see one
of those stupid, "lying..."

silly pictures of St.
Francis people "have..."

I really get peeved.

But then I think how disappointed
St. Francis must "be..."

when he looks into my heart and
sees the image I have of him.

I'm only human, anyway,
and I try to be merciful.

Since you can't go
home, sleep here tonight.

And take this, too.

You don't have to use it, you know.

"Tu comprends?"

So long, then.

And enjoy your dreams.

His Excellency will see you now.

Would you mind just telling "Herr" Goethe that
I'm only a journalist come for an interview?

Never mind about the other stuff.

What other stuff?

You young people-

Oh, "Herr" Goethe. I mean,
of course, Your Excellency.

Don't care a fig for
us old folks, do you?

But we do, Your Excellency.

We just think you're a
little bit too "vain..."

or pompous, or not
forthright enough, that's it.

Will you be so kind as to explain?

Well, for "example..."

well, you clearly "recognized..."

the utter hopelessness
of the human condition.

- I did?
- "Yes..."

Faith, "optimism..."

the illusion that our spiritual strivings
mean something, that they endure.

I imagine you don't much care
for Mozarfs "Magie Flute?"

How dare you, sir.

It preaches optimism and faith.

Yes, but Mozart didn't live to be 82.

He sang his divine melodies and died.

With no pretensions to the
enduring and the "orderly..."

and to exalted dignity Iike yours.

What a stuffy view of Mozart.

You should have been a
schoolmaster, my dear.

That's not fair.

You see his perfected "being..."

as a supreme and special "gift..."

that cost him nothing.

Aren't you forgetting his "patience..."

under the last extremes
of "loneliness..."

his surrender, his suffering?

Now who's thinking bourgeois, honey?

Do you know the black bottom?

Certainly not. I never had time.

Oh, no wonder you're so grouchy.

If you're going to take time seriously.

There is no time in "eternity..."

Only a "moment..."

just time for a joke.

Orchids.

Oh, Harry, you are an idiot.

I'm sorry if you don't like them.

It's not that.

I suppose orchids were the
only flowers expensive enough.

Well, anyway, thank you ever
so much, but never again, okay?

I won't take gifts from you.

- I'm sorry. I only meant...
- I know what you meant.

"Listen..."

I Iive on men, true,
but I won't Iive on you.

Ever.

Don't you look swell today.

Now that we've managed to
get you down from the gallows.

Do you like it?

Well, it needs a bit of "style..."

a bit of flash, you "know..."

but I like it. It's a start.

- Have you carried out my orders yet?
- What orders?

You mean you haven't
learned the foxtrot yet?

Oh, I've only had two days.

You could learn it in an hour.

The black bottom in two.

The tango takes longer,
but you don't need it.

"It's as easy as thinking
and a lot easier to learn."

We'll take this one.

We could have bought it three
hours ago and fours shops "back..."

since it was the first one we looked at.

Then we wouldn't have had
the fun of shopping for it.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

Bye-bye.

Now you know the entire
scandalous truth about "me..."

and I don't even know your name.

But you do. Look.

No. Yes, you do remind me of someone.

Someone a long time ago. Is "it..."

No, not Rosa Kreisler.

She had dark hair.

Who was Rosa Kreisler?

My first love.

We were 14.

Mind you, she didn't even know about it.

I never had the courage to speak to her.

- Nota word?
- No.

Oh, Harry, how sad.

She was probably crazy about you.

Anyway, not Rosa.

- Now tell me.
- Guess.

- I can't.
- You can.

Hermann.

Hermann.

Hermine.

There, you see, that
wasn't so hard, was it?

But how did "you..."

do that to me?

- Don't forget what you promised.
- What?

You'll obey all my orders.

Yes.

Most of them will be fun.

And easy enough.

But in the end, as you call "it..."

you will have to fulfill
my last wish as well.

Yes. What will that be?

Cross your heart and hope to die?

Do it.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Yes, I need you right now,
because I am desperate.

You will have to throw me
into the water before I swim.

The water will bring
me back to life again.

But I need you, too.

Not now, "later..."

when you have fallen in love with me.

I need you for something very
important and very beautiful.

It will be my Iast command.

What must I do then?

Kill me.

Well, you can't say I didn't warn you.

I'm sorry.

Who's this?

Erica.

- Isn't she pretty.
- Yes.

My poor, angry love.

And this one?

Now it's your turn to guess.

Well, it's Hermann, of course.

Who was he, anyway?

My only friend at the
seminary, which we both hated.

He only lasted six months there.

That was all he could take of
maths, New Testament "Greek..."

and ice in the washbowls.

We both agreed that they didn't
really want to educate anyone there.

All they wanted, in fact, "was..."

a Iot of obedient corporals
and sergeants for the state.

Then one day he went over the
wall, and I didn't see him since.

And?

Oh, he worked as an apprentice
in a clock "factory..."

and as an assistant in
a Tùbingen bookstore.

He published a promising
book of "poems..."

and shot himself in the head.

I suppose you admire that.

At Ieast he saved himself the
pains and horrors of the Great War.

Not to mention quite a few others.

Yes, I admired him. I adored him.

I don't suppose a day has
gone by since "then..."

that I didn't somehow think of him.

- You're not going, are you?
- I must.

We'll go dancing at the
Balances Hotel tomorrow.

Oh, listen, I cannot dance.

Oh, cabbage.

No, one needs talents to "dance..."

Iike gaiety, "innocence..."

frivolity, elasticity, talents
I've never had and never will.

Don't be so cocksure.

"Remember..."

you're under orders.

What makes you so cocksure
I'll obey your orders?

Well, don't just sit
there, go and dance.

- But I don't know anyone.
- Ask anybody.

Nobody here pretty enough for you?

Of course.

How "about..."

I can't. she'll think
I'm a dirty old man.

- You are a big baby.
- Why, she'll laugh.

Poor Harry, nasty girl
might laugh at him.

Come on, take a chance for once.

I can't.

Go.

May I have a dance?

As a matter of fact,
I'm engaged for this one.

Oh, I'm sorry.

But my beau seems to have
got stranded at the bar.

So let's go.

I'm just Iearning.

Doesn't matter, just relax a Iittle.

Hello there.

Pablo, my friend Harry.

"- Enchanté.
- Enchanté."

Cigarette? No?

You'll be sorry.

- He is rich?
- No.

- But he's very beautiful.
- Yes. Very beautiful.

Jimmy was around
yesterday Iooking for you.

Hello, Harry. Do you like music?

Yes. Well, yes and no.

I mean, I never thought I would be
able to enjoy this kind of music.

What kind of music?

Well, jazz, I suppose.
It is jazz, isn't it?

If you want to call it names.

Well, I mean, it is very different
from our symphonic tradition, isn't it?

I guess, I guess. AII right.

How do you know I'm not
in love with you already?

Oh, you Iike me, I can see that.

Because I broke through your isolation.

You're grateful to me.

But you're not in love with me yet.

Maybe that's the same thing.

Which shows how little
you know about it.

No, I mean to make you
fall in love with me.

Why?

Because it's my calling
and my "nature..."

to make men fall in love with me.

- Bravo!
- Bravo!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.

Very well.

She is lovely, isn't she?

Why don't you make love to her?

Do what?

Don't be such a prude.

No one's asking you to marry her.

You don't have to take
all love that seriously.

I say it's high "time..."

you slept with a pretty dolly
again, "Herr" Steppenwolf.

Believe me, I've no such aspiration.

"- Ciao," Alfredo.
Bye. - Thank you.

Let's grab a bite to eat somewhere.

After, we're playing
at the City Bar again.

All night?

Why not?

Well, I'm a Iittle tired.

I can fix that.

Oh, pardon me, sir.

I wonder if you'd be so
kind, just for a moment.

- Pablo can fix you anything.
- Anything?

Anything you Iike.

It's good.

You can't always get what you want,
but you can always get what you need.

Well, what are we waiting for?

Let's go.

Now we're off to the "Kunsthalle," then.

Hey!

"Home at Iast, weighed down
by sadness and despair."

"When I think of tomorrow's
appointment at the Cecil Bar..."

"l think with bitterness not only
of myself, but of Hermine, too."

"For all her kind intentions,
she should have Iet me perish..."

"instead of sweeping me
into this frivolity..."

"where I shall never be
anything but an alien..."

"and where the best in me
is demoralized and lowered."

Hello, you.

Shh.

- How the hell did you get...
- Shh.

Tell me, is "Pablo..."

Is he one of your lovers, too?

- Jealous?
- No.

He always seems so sleepy.

He can be waked up.

Uh-huh.

So, what are you doing
with an old man like me?

You're not in competition, you know.

Oh.

I love "you..."

because you're shy and "tender..."

and because I can see in your "eyes..."

that you are pleased
that I am