Voyeur (1986) - full transcript

An extremely weird comedy revolving around the life of 31- year-old Abel, who has never left home (literally). After failing with doctors and psychiatrists, Abel's father Victor brings home Christine, a friend, in an attempt to teach Abel basic social skills. But Victor's wife Duif accuses him of having an affair, and in the ensuing row Abel is thrown out into the street. But help is at hand when he runs into kind-hearted stripper Zus - whose show Victor is obsessed with...

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- Put those things away.
- Why?

No binoculars at Christmas breakfast.
Put them away!

Give them here!

Come along boys, no bickering.

- I'm not bickering.
- No, I'm bickering!

Set a good example for once.

Let your son set a good
example for once.

- Oh, is he only my son all of a sudden?
- Aren't I your son?

- You don't take after me, at any rate.
- Victor, how can you say such a thing?

Your eyes, your hair-lines,
your walks...

That's not what I mean.



He means that I haven't got
a single good quality, and he has.

- Is that what you mean?
- Yes, that's what I mean.

With those good qualities
he became an admysterytator.

Administrator,
and I'm not an administrator.

Your father is sub-manager.

- Oh, I thought he was an admysterytator.
- Administrator!

Are you sure about that?
I still think it's...

Administrator!

We haven't wished each other
Merry Christmas yet.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

And let's for once try to have Christmas
breakfast without any arguments.

But there aren't any arguments.

No, I'm just wishing us a Merry
Christmas breakfast without arguments.



Then there will be an argument.

Why must you bloody-well
reverse everything?

I'm putting things straight.

Straight to you, imbecile!

Stop it.

Now there is an argument.
Because you accentuated it.

Is that so surprising? Every
Christmas breakfast I can remember

has been permeated with discord.

Because up till now you've said at the
beginning of every Christmas breakfast

with that Christmas-breakfast
look in your eyes,

"Let's for once try to have
a Christmas breakfast

without any arguments."

And every year you manage with those
nasty wolfish eyes of yours

to completely poison
the atmosphere.

Hey, did you hear that?
He's just asking for an argument.

You mustn't try and push things
to extremes, Victor.

I say, the salmon is delicious.

Isn't it? Shrimps the whole time.
I thought let's have salmon.

I've never been a one for shrimps.
He always wants shrimps.

What?

I don't even like shrimps, you're
the one who always wants shrimps.

Dove, who is it that always
wants shrimps?

Dove?

Your father is right.

So I'm lying?

So I'm lying?

I'm not saying that.
But you did always want shrimps.

So I'm lying then!

Say I'm lying.

Say I'm lying!

You're lying.

Now, that's heartening
I must say.

Your own mother calling you a liar.

You're ganging up together,
I knew it, against me.

Why do I still live here?

Because you're an imbecile
who doesn't dare to go outside.

We want to have a serious talk
with you.

Your father's got a plan.

- You'll soon be thirty one.
- Thirty two.

- Tomorrow we're going to the dunes.
- A quiet, secluded spot.

You mustn't think anything more of it,
we're just going out.

Fresh air's good for you.

We're going in the car,
we won't see another soul.

And what about those gin-traps?

I'll walk on ahead and beat
the ground with a stick.

Yeah, and then of course
we'll get lost.

I know exactly what will happen.

We won't get lost, Abel.
Your father's taking a compass.

Your mother's making a bag
full of food.

Nothing can happen to us.

What about stray bullets?

There are hunters in the dunes,
you know.

How often have you read that:
"Man hit by stray bullet."?

There's no hunting in the dunes,
is there?

Of course not, just a few
rabbit-snares, that's all.

Right, and who sets them?

Poachers, that's who.
They're all inbred.

They go stark raving mad if anyone
ventures onto their hunting-grounds.

Do you know what?
We'll take a guide with us.

And two bearers, and guns
and ammunition

and a first-aid kit, and beads.

And a mosquito-net and a sextant.

We're not going into
the bloody jungle!

There's nothing wrong.

Just answer the psychiatrist's
questions.

Psychiatrist?

- I'm not retarded, am I?
- That's for the psychiatrist to decide.

Doctor van Boven, this is Abel.

Abel, act normally.

Doctor, don't be misled.
This is just play-acting.

What's your name, lad?

For God's sake Abel,
stop that nonsense!

Doctor, you understand that
he's just putting this on?

- Yes, I understand. I'm not retarded.
- No, of course not.

The question is, what is the cause?

Oh, I can tell you right away.

Please sit down.

How long is it since Abel
has been outside?

- Two years.
- Ten years.

And for ten years he's been
trying to cut flies in half.

When Abel was born,
where there any complications?

Yes.

- Where do you get that idea from?
- Well, it was a long, painful delivery.

Abel was blue,
he had difficulty breathing.

What are you talking about?

You were there, at the birth?

Yes, of course, yes.

Well, I was in the corridor,
but I know exactly what happened.

The first few weeks he had signs
of slight paralysis.

And around the age of fourteen
eczema in his armpits.

According to our doctor,
the result of nervousness.

Now, this is going beyond
all reason!

Please, admit that none
of this is true!

I don't want to draw any
conclusions straight away.

But I can't help feeling that
the root of the problem...

a major part of it anyway,
lies with the father.

What?

Yes, look, you're ashamed of Abel.

Wouldn't you be ashamed of
a son like that?

That's got nothing to do with it.

The other part,

the root of the problem,
lies with the mother.

You see, you over-protect your son.

Both your attitudes as parents
are in conflict

and because of this,
the lad finds himself in a vacuum.

Before we get round to Abel,

it would be advisable for you
to come to a mutual agreement

within your relationship.

I'll be hearing from you.

Well, that's that.

You're rushing things, sir.
I'm not used to...

- Being made love to?
- Being made love to...

- So brazenly.
- So brazenly.

Again!

You're rushing things, sir.
I'm not used to being...

This is such a rotten line.

That rotten line
encapsulates how Maggie is feeling.

Because Maggie is feeling
so uncomfortable,

she expresses herself
in a likewise way.

And that's why, in this situation,
it's a good line.

And something else,
when Victor tries to kiss you,

you've got to show much more
bewilderment.

Imagine that you've never been
kissed by a man before.

And Victor, over-play it, eh?
Make it difficult for Christine.

We can always water it down later.

Bewilderment, Christine.
Disgust, disgust!

- What is it now?!
- I just don't feel this, you know.

Do we have to watch this
for much longer?

This is an important moment.

We're going to carry on
until it's right!

And Christine, relax!

The mere thought of a kiss
repulses you.

I'm nearly 32,
and I've still never watched television.

We don't need Victor anyway
to buy a television.

Every month your father gives
a fixed sum of money

and at the end of the month
it's all gone.

I know that. Look at how we eat.

The whole time it's salmon,
oysters, lobsters.

Four course meals.

And all those new clothes,
new shoes.

When summer's on the way
I get new clothes.

What use are they to me?

You stop buying new clothes.

We down the meals. Within a month,
we'll have a television.

THE NAKED GIRLS

- No hors-d'oeuvre?
- Didn't get round to it today.

- De Beer has been sacked.
- De Beer?

How often have I mentioned that name?
It must be a thousand times.

- I don't know de Beer.
- A colleague.

What's this?

A fish finger.

A fish finger?

What kind of a hideous little
fish finger is this?

- Tell us about de Beer.
- Yes.

- He's been sacked.
- Because?

Because he was carrying on
with Merkelbach's wife.

Merkelbach?

- Yes, Merkelbach. Who could be that?
- No idea.

Come now, Abel.
Your father's boss.

I say, what's going on?
Only one vegetable?

The people behind the Iron Curtain

would lick their lips
at the sight of a fish finger.

And those people work
the whole day long.

They go into the steel factory
before it's light

and don't come out
until it's dark again.

If you ever see a photograph
of Russians

in a park,
then they all have little eyes.

Enough!

What do you think of that then?

- Of what?
- A secret affair like that?

Well, as long as it's a secret affair,
I've nothing against it.

- How old is she?
- Who?

- Merkelbach's wife.
- Thirty eight or so.

Still fertile as well.

I don't understand de Beer.

If you wanted to have
a secret affair

then you'd choose someone
infertile wouldn't you?

What if she got pregnant?

It could just as well be
Merkelbach's child.

With a face like de Beer?

What kind of a face
has he got then?

A bit ruddy,
with eyes like a cod-fish.

Where do you get that idea?

De Beer is pallid,
with piggy little eyes.

Who's got the ruddy face
and the cod-eyes then?

- That's Prokovsky, isn't it?
- Oh, you know him then?

Yes, you've mentioned him before.
Prokovsky, didn't he have asthma?

Yes, he's been in a sanatorium
for three years.

It must be great in a sanatorium

lying in bed all day, television,
people looking after you...

What is it?

What's for after?
What's going on?

No hors-d'oeuvre, one fish finger,
one vegetable, no after.

I'm not a bloody proletarian!

So... this is Abel then.

You don't want to go outside?

Are you frightened of me?

Good. Then we've already
got somewhere.

What's this?
We shan't be needing those here.

So, come along.

Madame, didn't I ask you to remove
all the silver from the room?

- I did do.
- Yes but, there is silver present.

- I just can't work like this.
- But, I did remove all the silver.

Honestly!

Well, I'm sorry,
but I'm not a metal detector.

Please get in touch when the room
is free of silver. Good afternoon.

Why haven't we got a television,
anyway?

It would be nice for Abel as well.

I mean, what does a boy like him see?

He sees enough,
more than enough.

But always the same.

On the television you see completely
different things.

Programs about termites
for instance.

Relevant to him, termites.

God, they broadcast other things
as well, don't they?

A television could change
Abel's way of thinking.

There's going to be no television
in this house.

It's nearly New Year.

Goodness, already?

- Where are the fireworks?
- Strange.

I know a nice game.

We have to pretend that
we don't know each other.

Yes!

Hello, sir. I don't know you.

- I don't know you either.
- My name's Abel.

What a coincidence, so is mine.

That's impossible, you're Victor.

Isn't it too confusing if you're
called Abel as well?

But I think it's silly
if you're called Abel as well.

Yes, it's silly.

Why not Fred, or Harry.

Right, Harry then.

- I say Harry, are you married?
- Certainly. To a very stupid woman.

I'm not stupid.

- Who is that lady?
- I don't know her.

- I'd like to introduce myself.
- I'd rather you didn't.

- I'd rather she didn't either.
- I'm playing as well, you know.

- Hey, Dove. It's only a game, isn't it?
- Yes, between the three of us!

You're playing too, aren't you?

Not if I can introduce myself.

But that's the game.
You've got to butt in.

I say, Abel, I've got two tickets
for the horse-races.

Do you feel like coming?

- Yes, I'd like that.
- Can I ask you something?

- Did you hear something?
- No, I didn't hear a thing.

What's this?
How can I butt in then?

I just heard it again.

I heard something as well this time.

Why are you stopping?

Victor was walking on the other side
of the street. He crossed over.

And I saw him but he didn't strike.

And suddenly he was standing
in front of me.

And he said, "Would you like
to have a drink with me?"

I hesitated, after all
he was a stranger.

Then he did something which...

- ...it threw me right off guard.
- What did he do then?

He looked at me...

a bit severely actually,

and he raised his hand to my head.

It made me jump a bit.

He stroked a lock of hair
out of my eyes,

like that... behind my ear.

That's the way to do it...

...very gently.

Abel doesn't even know what
a negro is, just to name one thing.

Everyone knows what a negro is.

Even so, a television wouldn't
do him any harm.

Television is a load of nonsense.

Strange men and women
laughing at you.

They can't even see you.
"So nice to have you with us again."

Ridiculous!
I'm not there,

you're not either,
and neither is Abel.

What about a nice film?

Now, that's an even bigger
load of rubbish.

Take a cowboy film. This cowboy,
hasn't he got any parents

whom he visits from
time to time?

Or have those parents died?
Is this cowboy a foundling?

Has he got brothers and sisters?

Has he had an education?

Not a word about that, no.

If you're on stage you don't
say to the audience,

"I'm so-and-so,
I went to grammar school

and I've got two brothers."

Of course not. But it comes up
in that piece.

I play an Earl,
who's fallen on hard times

and I say to the person
playing the opposite me...

Christine, yes, that I have studied.

The detective you played last year
never mentioned his education.

That was a rotten play.

First I want the kitchen painted.

You shake hands with her
and introduce yourself.

Don't squeeze! Normal.

Not like a damp sponge.
Normal, a normal handshake.

Hello, I'm Abel.

You see, there's nothing to it.

- And then you say something.
- This evening, I will.

This evening, my foot! Now!

I could say anything.
It depends on her as well.

Nothing depends on her.
It depends on you.

She's unsure of herself,
you have to put her at ease.

She could be the first to say
something as well?

She won't be the first!

- How do you know?
- That's how it goes.

The man speaks, and the woman
replies... now and then. And then...

- I say, "What's that smell?"
- That's not what you say.

It is, because then she'll say,
"That's my perfume."

And then I'll say, "Mmm, nice..."

Or, "Pooh, horrible."
That depends on her perfume.

You say, "Mmm, nice!" Understood?

Even if she smells of sweat,
or chips?

She doesn't smell of chips.

But she's working-class,
and they smell of chips.

Did you impart this gem?

Lots of poor people smell of chips.
Haven't you ever noticed?

She doesn't come from
a working-class family,

so she doesn't smell of chips.

She smells nice! You say,
"Mmm, nice", or "Mmm, lovely"

and not, "Pooh, horrible'.
"Mmm, lovely"!

And Dove will echo that
with a friendly look. Yes?

Then she says, "Thank you".

A brief silence is in order,
and then you continue.

I ask, "Would you care for a drink?"

And then she will of course ask me
"What have you got?"

Dove?

Beer, wine, coffee, tea,
sherry, whisky,

various liqueurs and gin.

And mineral water?
Because she's a teetotaler.

And mineral water.

While Dove's pouring the drinks,
you start breaking the ice.

Something about the Iron Curtain?

I don't want to hear the word
Iron Curtain!

Why not? It's something
Abel knows a lot about.

Tonight it's ordinary conversations!

Have you got any brothers
or sisters?

That's it, that's a good question.

- Has she got any, then?
- I don't believe she has.

Then it isn't a good question at all.

I ask, why do you do acting,
anyway?

Yes, you ask that.

A conversation develops.

It had better. I want
a spontaneous evening.

One more thing.
I want this understood:

This evening, if I touch
my nose like this...

then Dove puts a record on
and you ask her to dance.

And if I run my right hand through
my hair, like this...

- then Dove tells that story.
- Which story?

The one about the llama in the zoo.

- We already know that story.
- We don't already know that story!

Christine, this is Dove, my wife.

Pleased to meet you.

And that is Abel, my son.

- Something to drink?
- A glass of gin, perhaps?

Victor must have told you.

Yes... Let's go and sit down.

What a nice plant.

It looks like a tomato plant.

I'm mad about tomatoes.

But I'm not allowed to eat them.

She's mad about tomatoes.

Would you like a tomato?

I'm not allowed to eat them.

Why not?

Why aren't you allowed
to eat tomatoes?

Tomatoes belong to
the nightshade family.

Everything which belongs
to that family is bad for you.

Potatoes, for instance, as well.

- Potatoes?
- Yes.

- Why do you do acting?
- Me?

I like climbing into
someone else's skin.

Can you play things
as well as people?

Things?

Could you also climb
into the skin of...

...a potato?

No, no, I can't do that.

I think you'd make
a very good potato.

Why do you keep touching
your nose?

Oh, yes!

And now for some more talking.

Isn't it about time
for a nice salty herring?

Not for me, thanks.

Don't you like herring?

Rather! But I'm not allowed
to have it.

Is herring also a member
of the nightshade family?

- No, that's impossible.
- Well, then.

Herring is bad for your heart.

- Dove!
- Don't be absurd. Let me go.

Leave them for a while...

Ridiculous, it'll come to nothing.

So, if the children are too small
to work in the factory,

so they can't afford to clothe them.

But their mothers wear
long woolen skirts.

And when the children go outside

they walk naked under their
mother's skirts.

But the cold gives them
pneumonia.

- They often die by the sidewalk.
- Time for a top-up, Dove.

No, thank you.

- Fish has to swim, you know.
- But I haven't eaten any fish.

Come on, you don't think
I feel like telling

- ...the story about the llama now?
- What are you talking about?

You're out of step, girlie.
You've got to follow Abel.

I can't dance like this, you know.

No.

You're having an affair.

Night-night.

You're having an affair.

You're having an affair with
a beautiful, young, fertile woman.

I can feel it!

Stop it!

Say that you're having an affair.

I'm not having an affair.

Why can't an evening
like this evening

because you know how
to fix things,

be conducted normally?

Why isn't life normal?

Vickie...

Vickie...

Come now, Christine, your lines.
"I'm not used to" etcetera.

Yes, why not?

Very good, carry on.

Are you my little amateur?

Is that surprising?
With this row going on?

Perhaps we should make it
more stimulating.

I did it with a general once,
that was exciting.

Have you had an affair
with a general?

He wasn't a general.
He just dressed up as a general.

Oh, you mean I should, er...

You could be something else.

- What on earth are you wearing?
- A polo-neck.

I thought you couldn't stand
polo-necks?

Give it here, woman.

Oh, Victor!

What a lovely red mark!

I'm glad that we're all getting
with each other again.

The last time that happened
was, I believe, in 1962.

Give over, Victor.

To show you I'm not a bad sod,
I've decided tomorrow...

...I'm going to buy a television.

Where is that television?
Where's the bloody thing? Damn it!

- Please, Vicky, let's talk this over.
- Talk, my foot!

- We wanted to surprise you.
- I call it deceit.

Out of this house!

- Bloody hell, open this door!
- Please, Victor!

Shut your trap!

I'm going to do you a mischief!

- Where are you going?
- I'm leaving. It stinks here.

Move over a bit.
You're in the way.

Victor.

Victor!

- Please, Victor, please.
- Give him a coat.

Victor, please, please, I beg you!

Too late!
Give him his coat, I said!

You're not really going
to throw me out, are you?

Oh no? What kind of a mug
do you think I am?

Give your mother a kiss.

Stop there.

- Where?
- There.

What would he be doing
in a lunchroom?

Stop!

Where are you going?

Let's make a date.

- What are you doing?
- Can't I look for him?

- Can I take your arm?
- Why?

Well, all the men around here.

- I can't see any men.
- No, but they can see us.

Now they'll think I'm with you.

It was your first time?

It was your first time.

It doesn't matter.
You're just a late developer.

- Next, please.
- A dozen oysters.

- I was before you!
- You just came in.

- Where do you get that idea?
- These people are witnesses.

Are you ladies sorting it out?

There's not much to sort out.
She was first, and that's that.

- But I've been standing here for ages.
- It's her turn.

Twenty oysters.

Where is Abel?

Sis?

Sisie? It's me!

The postman.

Yoohoo! Sweet Sisie.

Let me in then.

I've got a parcel for you.

A long parcel.

What are you doing here?

I wanted to surprise you.

Who have you got indoors?

No one.

Victor, we've got to cool it a bit.

Is there someone else?

Yes.

Don't you want to see me anymore?

Sis...

No.

- I've got to go now.
- We must talk.

No!

And you're not to come
and watch me anymore.

Sis, please!
Is it all over just like that?

That's the way it goes.

Abel.

Hello!
I'm Nick, the walking flannel.

I'm searching for the bald mountain.

Oh look, there it is!
Goodness, isn't it bald.

What are you going to do
on that bald mountain?

There's a lot to see from the top
of the bald mountain.

Oh, it's so high.

And it's very cold as well.

- Freezing cold.
- What can you see?

Nothing. It's all much
too far away.

Can't you see a girl?

A girl? Yes, I have to look
very carefully, though.

Yes, in the distance
I can see very vaguely a girl.

And what's that girl doing?

What a nuisance,
I can't see from here.

- But you could walk over to that girl?
- I can't.

- Why not?
- I've only got very tiny legs.

It would take me a whole year
to reach that girl.

- What now?
- Yes, what now...

Let's just think.

Well, I know.
I need some binoculars.

Are you going to spy on that girl?

Abel?

Girls like to be spied on.

Sis, please.

Sis, come on!

I know where Abel is.

With a woman.

I said so, didn't I?

Why don't you ask me anything?

What I do for a living,
for instance.

What do you do for a living?

I'm a teacher. I'm a model.

I work at Naked Girls.

- Teacher?
- No.

- Model?
- No.

- Naked Girls.
- Yes.

Naked Girls...

Is that a home?

A home? For what?

A home for naked girls.

At Naked Girls men look
at naked girls.

- Really? Only men?
- Yes, and boys.

Aren't you going to ask,
"How did you find him?"

How did you find him?

I saw a woman in the fishmongers
wearing Abel's pullover.

The one with the fish, you know.
I followed her.

There's more than one fish-pullover
in the world.

I sniffed it. The pullover.

- And what did you smell?
- Abel.

Is he living with this woman?

I think so.

There was a postman at the door
this afternoon.

I had something with him.

Was that nice?

Sometimes.

- Was he a married man?
- Yes.

Did he have any children?

Yes, a son I think. But he never
wanted to talk about him.

I know that son.

That son is me.

Well, I can tell you a few nice
things about your father.

I don't want to hear about my father!

From now on, my father
doesn't exist any more!

And your mother?

Tomorrow I'm going to go
and fetch Abel.

You leave him alone.
That wretched boy!

I'm not going to take
any more notice of you.

Abel's coming back home.

- Over my dead body!
- Over your dead body then.

It's him, or me!

What cold hands.

And so dry.

You are all right, aren't you?

- Why shouldn't I be all right?
- I don't know. I'm worried about you.

You always used to have
such damp, warm hands.

And now they're suddenly
cold and dry.

I don't think you're looking well.

But Sis says I'm looking fine.

You look unhealthy. And you're
wearing an atrocious shirt.

Abel, shall we make it
a bit cozier here?

Sis, come on!

Let's go
and have a drink somewhere.

Sis, please.

Get in.

Sis, just a moment.

What do you think you're doing,
rearranging my furniture?

It was her idea.

- This is my mother.
- We've already met.

And you just let it happen?
You just kept your mouth shut!?

Where are the flowers?

- She threw them away.
- They were dried out.

That's because
they're dried flowers.

"Two housing complexes
in eight years."

- Is that what you mean, de Beer?
- That's what I mean, yes.

Is that just a statement
or are you sliding mud?

I rather think I'm sliding mud.

And it all went too slowly for you, eh?

Haste! You'll be catching up
with your own backside!

Now get lost! Clear off!

Mind how you speak
to my wife, girlie.

I'm used to talking
these things through.

Yes, that's true. We always talk
everything through.

Victor's been having an affair
with Sis.

With a beautiful, young,
fertile woman.

- Is that true?
- Yes, it's true.

- Is that true?
- Yes, ask Sis.

I hate you!

I don't hate you, you know.
You're a good woman.

But you've got to keep
your mitts off Abel.

I'm warning you.

But Dove, you're getting wrinkles,
you're not fertile anymore...

You can talk!
Disgusting, disgusting old man!

No, that's not true.
Women grow ugly as they get older,

but men... they get more interesting.

Shut up.

Anything to drink, Sisie?
A good glass of wine?

Shut up!

Haven't you got a bottle somewhere?

Out! Both of you!

Right, I'm going.

I'm going.

- I'm going!
- Don't do it, Dove.

- Come on, Dove.
- Don't come any closer!

I'll jump.

Where's Dove?

Dovie? Where are you?

Oh, Dove. Do you want
a drink as well?

Not one step closer.

Don't come one step closer,
do you hear?

Oh my God!

Victor, please, let's go.

Victor, come on.

- Just one more little drinkie.
- Shut up!

I thought it was a very pleasant evening.
Next time, our place?

Victor!