All language subtitles for Reprise.2006.NORWEGIAN.1080p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H264-NOGRP-English

Are we going to get
something published, or what?

Or do you just want
to cultivate your angst?

- There is a reason why we hesitated
- What do you mean?

- You're the one who stopped.

- Sure, but I can start walking again.

Do I really want to
expose the world to this?

Let's just do it.

This is when it all begins.

Their manuscripts
would have been accepted immediately.

They would've been published the next fall.

Finally they would've been authors.

Their books would have sold poorly.
Erik and Phillip couldn't care less.

More importantly, the books' enigmatic
nature would've made them cult classics

Phillip would've been
overwhelmed by his success.

In a burst of hubris he'd declare
his literary project completed and...

No, it would've been love that caused
Phillip to lose faith in literature.

He would have left Oslo
without telling a soul.

After three months
he would've reached the Vézére-valley.

The sight of the Lascaux paintings
would've provoked a delirious fit.

Believing he knew Japanese, -

- he'd follow a tourist group
from Hiroshima an entire day, -

- before collapsing.
Diagnosis: Acute Stendhal Syndrome.

The urge to write
would again have resurfaced.

January. Oslo.

The loss of Phillip
would've become a loss of inspiration.

The writer's block was a fact.

Author Sten Egil Dahl would have
convinced Erik to go abroad to write.

She was a French publisher's daughter.
Her father had idealized her, -

- causing a deep inferiority complex,
both physical and intellectual.

On October 24 she would have
thrown herself from their balcony.

Her letter would've suggested it was
their happiness she couldn't deal with.

Erik would've felt ashamed by the
creativity triggered by her death.

They would have met
by chance at a café...

No, on the street.

On the Metro...
...at an airport...

No, in the Luxembourg Garden.

They would have realized
they were both writing the same book.

The book would've triggered a revolution
in East Africa, -

- been banned by the Vatican,
disillusioned the Dalai Lama, -

- and shaped the sexuality of Frode -

- a 12 year old son of a pastry chef -

- who would've happened to read...

This is when it all begins.

We have to get out of this country.

Erik was relieved when his
suspicions were finally confirmed.

He was utterly without talent.

Phillip's manuscript was accepted.
His book was released in the fall.

Hi.

SIX MONTHS LATER

These are great CDs.
Chris De Burgh, Sissel...

- Pan Pipe Moods?
- Those are dad's old CDs.

- They came with the car.
- Came with the car?

Air condition and Pan Pipe Moods
is standard equipment in a Volvo?

Hi.

- Is that everything?
- I think so.

Thanks.

It'll be nice to come home
to your apartment, your PC...

Maybe you can start writing again.

- Do you have any music we can play?
- Eh... No.

Did you get hold of
any good drugs, Phillip?

I actually talked to a doctor who...

They said
down at the hospital that...

That more people
get addicted to...

I'm sorry,
but right now you sound like Geir.

Shit...

Nice friends.

Geir.

Could we drop by Bygdoy?

Isn't it a little too cold for that?

The punk band Kommune played their
farewell concert on Dec. 27, 1999.

Next song:
"Fingerfucked by the Prime Minister".

Morten, a diehard fan, missed
his train and had to bike 50 km.

After 12 minutes,
he got a knee in his eye.

His first encounter
with Phillip and the others.

Ironic punk quickly evolved
into cynical commercialism:

Henning started an ad agency.

This is... Katinka.

Morten quit college to work for
Henning as a "creative" consultant.

She's discussing ads in public spaces.

I'm just trying to get her to bed.

Hi, Lillian.

Erik kept his girlfriend
at a safe distance from his friends.

Tonight? I don't know.

Morten asked Geir what she was like. -

Geir said she was "Intelligent".

Morten therefore assumed she was
ugly. Geir pretended to agree.

A drunk Geir had once told Erik
he feared they were friends with him -

- just because his brother
was in the band.

Erik then had to wait two days
before asking him for free tickets.

- What does that mean?

"Que le tout"?

Phillip, please turn
it down a little.

Violins are nice. but...

"The only thing left,
is everything."

"The whole."

- Hi, Phillip!
- Hi, mom.

Hi.

- How is it going?
- Fine, I think.

- Was the drive OK?
- Yes.

- Not too much traffic?
- No, we stopped at Bygdoy.

Have you removed my things?

Well, I had to tidy up a bit.

- Where are the pictures of Kari?
- We talked about this.

- You just took them down?
- It's for your own good.

- Why didn't you tell me?
- Maybe I forgot. The doctor...

Give me my keys, mom.

It's only practical
that someone has a spare set.

Hey...

Maybe you should take the keys.

Think about it. You'll probably
write something incredible now.

- How's your writing going?
- To hell.

I've reworked
that last one I sent in.

Think you could take a look at it?

You should just send it in.
I'm sure it's excellent.

Should we head home?

Am I tired already?

Sales is about desire,
commitment, knowledge...

Good. Fhaisal,
but you forget one key point:

You can't sell over the phone, until
you have learned to sell yourself.

You should leave modesty at the door
before entering here.

Oops! Modesty just
got run over by a steamroller.

Toss the ball to someone, Fhaisal.

OK, who are you?

- Kari.
- Who are you?

Kari.

Kari grew up on the east side of town -

- Phillip on the west.

Still Phillip insisted he had seen
her before: Independence Day 1989 -

- he had gotten lost and ended
up marching with the wrong school.

Kari didn't believe him,
but liked the idea.

At 18 Kari met Rune,
the former guitarist in "Kommune", -

- now frontman in "Mondo Topless", -

- incidentally the worst use of a Russ
Meyer film title as a band name ever.

Fucking hippies!

After dating Rune for three years,
Kari started noticing Phillip.

She thought he was cute,
but was sure he was gay.

She asked Rune who they were.

Just some spoiled rich kids
from the West Side.

I heard one of them
wrote this weird book.

Phillip later told Kari he knew
they were destined for each other.

In ten seconds
she will look at him.

Ten, nine, eight, seven,
six, five,

four.

Three.

Two.

One...

The next day
he invited her to Paris.

Phillip's sarcastic humor
made her gasp with laughter.

Phillip said
her gasping was repulsive.

This only made her gasp even more.
His gaze made her feel pretty.

Phillip loved her parodies
of "sexy" girls in music videos.

She was the only girl he had met who
had Ramones "Road to Ruin" on vinyl.

He enjoyed that they both
admitted actually disliking the Clash.

Are you OK?

I'm fine.

- Hi.
- It's amazing.

This is incredible.

In the subway...
I didn't see the sign...

I sat down, and he said I...
shouldn't... It was painted...

But there wasn't any paint...

You have paint on your jacket.
There's paint all over your back.

No, there isn't.

- There was something... Fuck.
- Phillip, what's wrong?

It's just... I... I...

It wasn't by chance.

It was no coincidence that we met.

The doctors said his obsessive romance
with Kari had triggered his psychosis.

When Phillip was committed,
Kari was advised not to visit him.

Hi.

I let myself in.
Where have you been?

- I kept trying the doorbell.
- I just went to the store.

- I'm fine. Don't worry.
- Hey, I'm sorry.

I just wanted to show you this.

They accepted it. They're
going to publish "Prosopopeia."

That's great!

- Have you told Lillian yet?
- No.

A good book cover is important.

Didn't you say that if
your book was accepted, you would...

What do you mean?

- I have to break up with Lillian.
- You don't have to.

Yes, I do.

We've been going out for three years.

I can't waste any more time.

We can't have girlfriends now.

We're supposed to write and read...

- and hang out with friends.

And if we feel the urge, -

- we'll practice deviant,
fetishistic sex with prostitutes.

You can practice deviant
fetishistic sex with Lillian.

That...

No.

I have to break up with her.

I can't stay with her
just to be nice.

Not that she's terrible to be with.
She's actually pretty cool.

Girls aren't cool. They can be
pretty or "cute" and -

- with some serious dieting, even sexy.

They can be nice. Dumb, but nice
But who wants "nice"?

You want interesting people around you.

Has a girl ever introduced you to
any new music -

- or recommended a book you
didn't already read in high school?

Anything just slightly
outside the mainstream?

If so, she got it from an ex,
her brother, her father.

They just pretend.

It's worse here. On the East Side
they know they're underprivileged.

Here they think they
have to have an opinion.

And intrude on adult conversations.

- Hi.
- Hi, Lillian, it's me.

Guys in long-term relationships
become so lame.

They get sucked into this feminine
sphere of TV-series and nice dinners.

They get less and less time
to read and listen to music.

Eventually they don't even miss it.

They end up as
understimulated, bourgeois retards.

Hi!

If he broke up now, Lillian would
think it's because of the novel.

He'd be a phoney
who dumps girls once he succeeds.

She'd think she wasn't good enough
for him. Which wasn't entirely true.

And what about all his things? It
would seem cynical to take them now.

But picking them up later
would definitely be wrong...

What's the matter?

Erik, come here a second.

I don't mind you using my PC at all.

But I don't appreciate that -

- things like this pop up,
when I turn it on.

Is this what you look at?
Feel free to talk to me about it.

But what if that girl was me?

What if she can't take it?
That may be conceited of him, but...

Bullshit.

Feeling guilty is slave mentality.

Sometimes you have to
be Zarathustra. Be mean.

I have to tell you...

Suddenly Erik remembered
the last time he was mean.

Erik and Phillip were in 2nd grade.

Phillip had another best friend:

Erik heard Svein talk
about Phillip to a 6th grader.

You two hang out a lot.
Are you gay, or what?

No, but maybe he is.

Having had a liberal upbringing, Erik
had always defended society's outcasts.

But this time he told everybody
that Svein said Phillip was gay.

Erik's mother heard this from
a classmate and Erik's teacher.

He used "gay" as a term of abuse?

His father is reactionary, but...

An emergency meeting was called.

Svein left the school shortly after.

Years later Svein was seen -

- cutting in line at a liquor store,
pushing a baby carriage.

- My novel was accepted.
- That's great!

Are you still at the university?

I don't know.
It's kind of complicated.

I've considered
studying sociology again.

No... I don't know.

I'm working at the moment.

Hi.

I'm going to get a coffee.

How long has it been?

Seven months.

I can't believe
we're sitting here like this.

Yes...

Remember when I tricked you
into falling in love, in Paris?

- I was already in love with you.
- No, you weren't.

No, you weren't.

You were still into
that "rock star", weren't you?

Poor Rune.

No.

But we had a nice time, didn't we.

In Paris.

Were you in love with me then?

Yes. I was.

I wasn't sick already then.

I wasn't.

- You've put your hair up.
- Yes.

- I like it.
- No, you don't

I do. It's just different.

You look nice.

I felt a lot worse afterwards.

I didn't understand anything.

I wanted to call.

But they told me
that wasn't a good idea.

And then I didn't know...

- I didn't know how you felt.
- That must have been hard.

I wish we could just...

Meet all over again.

Forget everything.

Bye.

I must admit.
After reading this I thought:

"He must be some eccentric,
old-before-his-time type".

No offense.

And then you show up.
Look at him!

I mean, he's handsome.
A good-looking boy.

- So what happens now?
- Certain parts will be reworked.

And it needs to be proofread.

But this is a book
It will be published this fall.

This fall?

Isn't that a little soon?

- I just feel...
- Leave the feeling to me.

- But the title: "Prosopopeia"
- We've discussed that.

I like one-word titles myself:
"Hunger", "Underworld"...

- "Prosopopeia" is one word.
- He's right about that.

Your first book sets the tone
for your entire authorship.

Imagine a critic writing
a review of "Prozac-and-pee".

- I'm provoking you a little, but...
- I love the title.

There's something about
your thematic structure that...

It's interesting that you
know Phillip Reisnes.

Something about your book
reminded me of his.

Maybe you're right. Thank you.

You and Reisnes...

How old are you? 23?

Fantastic!

A word to the wise:
Never listen to old farts like me.

No, no, no.
Remember what Wittgenstein says:

The important things in life are
expressed through music, not words.

I have something I need to do.

Excellent.

Have you read Ottar Tomte? We're marking
the release of his posthumous poetry.

- If you want to go.
- Sure. Thanks for the invitation.

- So?
- Who was friends with Ottar Tomte?

Who wrote the epilogue for his book
and will feel obliged to appear?

Erik and Phillip discovered
Sten Egil Dahl when they were 17.

They both spent all their lunch money
on books and records.

Sten Egil Dahl
wrote his first novel at age 20.

It was awarded the Nordic
Council's Prize for Literature in 1964.

Unexpectedly, he didn't
show up at the awards ceremony.

This reinforced his reputation as
solitary and detached from reality.

China considers it beautiful that
the North Vietnamese are bleeding!

My book has nothing to do
with Chinese politics!

I'm afraid the debate has to end here.

Thank you.

Sten Egil Dahl moved to Paris,
where he wrote his second novel.

He soon withdrew from public life.

Before returning to Norway,
he only had contact -

- with reclusive author
Maurice Blanchot.

Little is known
about Dahl after this.

He published a few books,
but remained a recluse.

He lived isolated in a house
by the Frogner Park.

Erik found a cryptic passage
in "Crystal" -

- where the Monolith statue,
observed from a window -

- was described as a sundial.

- That must be the house.
- Yes.

Phillip's first work was called
"Dust". Erik was impressed.

Erik's story took three months.
He claimed he wrote it in one night.

It works better
if you remove the lens cap.

Listen, "Rain Man", have you been
out of the apartment yet?

- I went to the pharmacy yesterday.
- The pharmacy?

- So you'll go?
- I guess.

And dad says, "Henning, give Geir
more space around the dinner table."

I thought, "Is he planning on
getting fatter?" He was a chubby kid.

- No, I wasn't.
- You were our own Michelin Man.

- How much do you weigh now?
- 75.

Erik?

Johanne, from the publisher's.

Of course!
Good to see you again.

Feel free to join us.

Thanks.

- Johanne works with my publisher.
- Well I'm also working on my MA.

I was a big fan
of Erik's manuscript.

What is your master's thesis about?

I'll probably change it a bit.

But it's basically about contemporary
literature. The new Norwegian authors.

Anyway, things are more exciting
for you, with your upcoming release.

You're Phillip, right?

"Phantom Images" is
one of my favourite books ever.

Particularly that long passage
toward the end.

Is that how you work now?

Phillip has been
a little tired lately.

But he's better now. Right?

Soon you'll write
something awesome again.

- We had a meeting today.
- Sebastian. Hi.

A new cell phone ad campaign.

I like the edge.
It's quirky, it's weird. It works.

We made small talk, wondered if
we had any mutual acquaintances.

It turns out we did.

- Lars Henriksen?
- No. Lars Etterstad.

- Did he go to Berg High School?
- Yes.

Porno Lars? They know Porno!

You guys know Porno Lars?

This consultant had lived
in that flat share with Lars.

Lars came home late one night.

He asked if Lars wanted a glass
of wine. But Lars answered:

I'm trying to cut back on TV.

He said he was going to read
his new Heidegger book.

But thanks for the offer.

Look at him. He has no idea
that he goes by the name of Porno Lars.

Careful, Lars. Too much Heidegger
can make you dizzy.

What's he saying?
I can't understand his dialect.

What's that tattoo? An ad?

"Oslo City Shopping Centre"?

- No, don't! I'm dry!
- Oh really?

So you're getting your master's?

Are you OK?

Sure. I just don't understand
your friends' humor.

What's Mathis Wergeland's
book called, Erik?

"That Which Ties Us Down."
- Right.

That which Ties Us Down.
"Ties"...

- I liked Mathis' book.
- I figured.

If he had written in English,
he would be world famous by now.

- You're just jealous.
- Jealous? Me?

I knew him before he was famous
and he was a jerk even then.

Oh "jerk" was he. Well, not everyone
can become a famous author.

You do have a point. "Jerk" isn't
precise enough to describe him.

I wish Mathis would -

- choke on black cock in hell, that
politically correct fascist cunt.

No...

That's enough!

- He's just kidding.
- No I'm not.

I don't care, I've had it.
I hate people like him.

What you hate is war and George Bush
and the World Bank and such.

Who the hell do you think you are?

You are the most immature
people I have ever met!

Spreading nasty rumours about
each other... I feel sorry for you.

- And for him.
- Me? What are you talking about?

Why do you hang out with these people?

Sorry for me?

- What's she talking about?
- I've met guys like you before.

I just have one thing to say:

It can't be easy to
have problems in this crowd.

You're so cute when you're mad.

And you are incredibly banal!

She seemed nice.

Bye.

Hi.

- Hi, Erik!
- Hi.

- Long time no see.
- Isn't Lillian here?

No.

Does anyone want a drink?

- I think I'll wait.
- No, thanks.

- Have you seen Sten Egil Dahl?
- I doubt he'll show.

- But you and...?
- I just wanted her to come.

Are you sure that's a good idea?

What does your psychiatrist say?

Is it a problem that Kari is here?

- I didn't mean it like that.

- How are you doing?
- Fine. So-so, I guess.

- Are you still at the university?
- No, I don't know

- I'm in telemarketing.
- How interesting.

No. It isn't.
Actually, it sucks.

I heard your book
is getting published.

Yes.
I'm pretty nervous about that.

There's Mathis Wergeland.

Please don't come over,
you superficial imbecile.

Shit.

Look at this! Phillip Reisnes.

Long time no see.
Good to have you back.

Are you writing?

No, I'm... that is...

Hi. Erik. Erik Hoiaas

This is Kari... Kari...

Kari-Kari? Nice to meet you.

I really believe in this guy.

See you around, all right?

I... I don't think...

I have to go.

Don't let him bother you.

I just don't feel well.

- I'm tired.
- What about Sten Egil Dahl?

Do you want to go home?

I can't do this. Sorry.

- This was a mistake.
- Don't worry about it.

It just isn't like it used to be.

I know it's important to Erik,
but I don't want to write anymore.

Having fun?

- Yes.
- Have you thought about your title?

- Yes, I've thought about it.
- Excellent.

I think "Prosopopeia"
is a good title.

Don't you?

Don't ask me, tell me.

Say: The book's title is
"Prosopopeia", dammit!

I'll remember that. Thanks.
We'll talk later.

Sten Egil Dahl?

My name is Erik Hoiaas.
I'm a big fan of your work.

- It's a great honour for me...
- Hey, Erik! Hi.

Mathis Wergeland.
I'm a big fan of yours.

Well "fan" is a little teenage,
but "admirer" is so formal.

"Crystal" is just amazing.

Your opening chapter there...

There's this...

This...

- Don't you agree?
- Absolutely.

- Do you write as well?
- Yes, I have written a book.

You probably haven't read it.

It hasn't been published yet.

- Then I probably haven't read it.
- But it will be published.

Excuse me, I was on my way home.

But your book has been accepted?

Erik knew that in S. E. Dahl's mind, he
and Mathis were now indistinguishable.

Phillip?

What's wrong?

I just don't feel...

I couldn't sleep... and...

It helps to turn up the volume.

I took a little too much Seroquel

I couldn't sleep!

You're taking your medication?

Did something happen
between you and Kari?

Don't baby-sit me.
I need time to myself.

No problem.

Hello?

Hi.

Why did you buy me a plane ticket?

Did you look at the date?

The exact same date

as the last time we went.

You can't just assume that

I can, or want to, go to Paris.

No pressure.

But can you at least consider it?

Lars mentioned that Phillip
and Kari were going to Paris again.

Erik pretended that Phillip
had already told him.

He studied chemistry. Was brilliant.
The best in his class.

He got headhunted to some
pharmaceutical company in the USA.

But his girlfriend couldn't handle
a long-distance relationship.

She got depressed. Said
she couldn't function without him.

So he quit his job
and moved back home.

After a few weeks, she dumped him.
Didn't really love him anymore.

He was unable to go back to work.
Now he lives with his mom.

You live with your mom, don't you?

Hi, Lillian!

She's probably frigid.
Any girl that pretty is.

- You would know, who's cilibate.
- Cilibate?

- You mean celibate.

- Right, cilibate.

Maybe cilibate is how farmers say it,
but in civilization we say -

- celibate with an e
- You know what I meant.

Tonight?

I don't know. I have to try
to write while Phillip is away.

Thank you.

You're so cool!

I'll call you tomorrow.
I love you. Bye.

It's so embarrassing.

Anyway, my point is
that you need to get laid.

- Why don't you go see Lillian?
- I thought maybe we could...

- I can get laid whenever I want.
- With that Hitler Youth haircut?

I'm out of here. Bye.

Bye!

- We were on the 4th floor last time.
- This room is nice.

- We had a nice time?
- Absolutely.

I may have been a little nervous.

- How did I seem to you?

- You seemed happy.

What did we do the next day?

We sat at a café
and talked for ages.

- What was the weather like?
- Raining, I think.

- What did we talk about?
- Everything. I can't remember.

But it was nice.

What was I like? Was I happy?

- Don't you remember?
- Sure.

I'm glad you came.

You were thinking about Rune.

I decided I had to make you
fall in love with me.

- You were unsure of your feelings.
- No, I wasn't.

Sure you were.

Anyway, it worked.
It worked because I told you first.

"When I reach zero,
you'll fall in love with me."

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

What are you doing?

Seven, six...

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

You must have sat and slid down.
Your skirt had been pulled up.

Don't worry.
You looked incredible.

- It feels stupid.
- Don't worry about that.

- Can't we...
- Come on!

Come on.

Look to the left.

A little down.

Gather your legs.

It's uncomfortable.

- We had sex the second night.
- They know what "sex" means.

No they don't. It's just
strange noises to them.

The French don't even understand
English without a French accent.

I don't think
it was until the third night.

- Why was I so nervous?
- You were so cute.

You kept talking about
how the first time never is any good.

No, wait.

What's the matter?

What are you thinking about?

Nothing.

Say something.

Why did you want us
to come back here?

You don't love me anymore,
is that it?

I don't know.

Of course you know.

FALL

Erik Hoiaas is here.
Your book has just been published.

"Pro-so-po-peia."

You write about madness. Do you
have a personal connection to that?

Well... "Prosopopeia", isn't really...

It isn't really about madness.

The personal is on a different
level than the biographical.

But the protagonist is searching
for "the absolute language".

A language which can grasp
all the world's nuances.

And that is a madness of sorts.

A strong personal experience
can become an intense story.

But what I meant to say...

Giving details of personal suffering
has become a tabloid requirement.

Bringing up
all sorts of personal "tragedies".

But that's not real "literature" is it?

John Pedersen,
you became an author late in life.

Your story
is titled "The Long Journey Back".

I never thought I would become
an author. But when things...

- Hi, Phillip.
- Hi, Erik Hoiaas, long time no see.

- How's it going?
- I'm not really sure.

I don't know if you saw me on TV.
It didn't go well.

Forget about that. Come on over.
Geir and Morten are here.

It's been a while.

I don't know.
I'm going to Lillian's.

So nothing's changed there?

Then bring her with you.

We've been invited
to a party at Lars'.

Two months earlier Lars felt obliged to
mingle with his fellow med-students.

No one had heard from him since.

That night Lars had mingled quite
a lot with a girl: Merethe.

Does Lars have a girlfriend?

My God!

Then we have no choice.

OK.

Lillian was understanding
as always when Erik said:

Phillip rang.
He doesn't feel well.

21? This must be it.

Hey...

I can't take it. It's too sad.

- Hey there.
- Hey. Well... quite a party!

And Little Lord Fauntleroy!
Out svimming with commoners?

We were about to leave,
but now things are picking up.

- I brought my friend Johanne.
- Nice to meet you.

Come on in.

Sorry.

Are you all right?

Do you know Bjorn?

Yes.

- What's your name?
- Geir.

Hi, Geir

Ingrid?

Ingrid!

We've had another complaint.
Can you please...

Henning!

Choke on black cock in hell,
you politically correct fascist cunt!

Get some sleep.

Bye.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight, seven, six, five...

Four, three, two, one...

Lillian?

Hi.

- How nice.
- Not a word, Erik.

Don't touch me.

Lillian... Hey, come sit down.

I've had enough. Not just because
we never see each other.

It's that you pretend to care,
when you're so damn selfish.

You're such a damn cliché!

Don't call me.

Is he awake?

So you've seen it?

FORM WITHOUT SUBSTANCE.

Want a cup of tea?

Hi, Phillip.

No, I'm a little...

What? You've written something?

Well...

This is...

A lot of it is good, but we've
always been honest with each other.

This isn't your best work.

But it's cool
that you're writing.

What?

I'm glad you take it like that.

It just seems... disjointed.
Even for me who knows your style.

I mean, you haven't
slept all night.

But there is something here.

Your water metaphor
relating to emotional distance, -

- but then that glides into
this erotic thing...

There's a lot here you can work on.

I don't think so.

- It's only the first draft.
Don't try to be nice.

I'm not being nice. If you work on it
this might be publishable.

That isn't important.
I'm just writing for myself.

- A lot of this is good.
- No, it isn't!

Why can you never say what you mean?

I mean... You're a great writer.

All I've ever done is to recycle
Sten Egil Dahl and Tor Ulven.

It's no big deal.

- Is that recycled Sten Egil Dahl too?
- I don't know.

What do you mean?

- What the fuck are you doing?
- He's mine.

- Svein?
- Sorry, Erik.

I'm not a homo!

You're Erik Hoiaas, aren't you?

- Yes.
- I saw you on TV last night.

- Let me get you to a doctor.
- No, I'm fine.

TV is no place to discuss literature.

I don't know why...

I've read your book.

Great title.

Very good.

Except for the final part.

Don't try to be poetic.

- Are you serious?
- Yes. But the rest was good.

Very promising.

You...

You look much better now.

How do you feel?

Much better. Much better.

An idea had begun to take shape.

Two days later,
- as he lay in bed, irritated by -

- the lights from his stereo,
that couldn't be turned off, -

- it came to him:
He had to get out of Oslo.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven. Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Hello, my name is Kari Brekke.
May I speak to Linda Saugstad?

- Hello, my name is...
- Kari?

I found you.
I managed to find you.

You know where I work.

It was always meant to be.
There were just so many things...

Something links us together.
I found you here, right?

Everything was a mess.

There was something that...

Excuse me.

Can I help you?

- Listen to me.
- Kari?

I love you, Kari.
Everything is in synch now.

I love you. I love you.

Stop it!

I can't take this anymore...

Phillip, hey...

Hey...

Phillip?

- Kari?
- Just...

Come on.

Get up.

Erik would have left without saying
goodbye to Phillip or his friends.

He would have found a small
apartment where he could write.

Erik would have let nothing interfere
with his creative impulses.

Paradoxically, missing friends
and family would have inspired him.

After months of hard work,
he would've completed his novel.

The next fall Erik's second book
would be published in Norway.

The book would've gotten mixed reviews
and sparked a literary debate

- a professor from Denmark
would say in an article:

Norway now has two authors of interest:
Sten Egil Dahl and Erik Hoiaas.

Erik would feel distanced from
this fuss, working on his new book.

Surprisingly, it was a first novel that
was the big hit that fall:

A coming of age, Oslo epic: Roundabout

It's an attack on the World Bank,
the North-South conflict.

- That may not be obvious to everyone.
- No, but all the more important.

Buy it, it's important!

After a year abroad, Erik would have
felt it was time to come home.

They would have met again at a café.
Or at a restaurant...

No, it would have been at a wedding.

Kari is cool.

She's my nurse. Makes sure
I take my medicine, get dressed, -

- gives me sponge baths...

Nah, actually, we're pretty happy.

You all have girlfriends.
Traitors!

You didn't give us a choice,
running off like that.

Quisling.

- I'm back at the university.

- Studying what?

It may seem stupid,
but I'm studying psychology.

That's great!

Erik would've feared she thought
he was ironic.

He truly thought it was
a touching expression of love.

- He killed himself?
- Yes.

- I thought you knew.
- No.

A few months ago.

Does anyone know why?

Well, he only had two fans.

One went nuts, the other fled
the country. That was the straw...

No, I don't know.

This next song is dedicated to
my brother Geir, the politician.

Let's hope he doesn't get
"Fingerfucked by the Prime Minister"!

The next day Phillip would have told
Erik how much he liked his book.

They would've discussed
S. E. Dahl's suicide,

- before Phillip
said he had run into Svein.

- He seemed upset about hurting you.
- Me?

Phillip's comments would inspire
Erik to keep working on his next novel.

How about you?
Aren't you going to write?

No, I don't think so.

Though maybe the spirit will
move me again, like last time.

- Ten, nine...
- Stop it.

Eight, seven, six, five...

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Stop (The End)