All language subtitles for Chantal Akerman Historias de América (1989)Food.Family.And.Philosophy.1989 Eng

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[man] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[man] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] [foreign language].

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[man] [whispers]
[foreign language].

-[woman] A rabbi always pass
through a village to get to the

forest, and there, at the foot
of a tree -- and it was always

the same one -- he began
to pray, and God heard him.

His son, too, always passed
through the same village to get

to the forest, but he could
not remember where the tree was.

So, he prayed at the
foot of any old tree,

and God heard him.

His grandson did not
know where the tree was,

nor the forest.

So he went to
pray in the village,

and God heard him.

His great-grandson did not
know where the tree was,

nor the forest, not
even the village,

but he still knew the
words of the prayer.

So, he prayed in his
house, and God heard him.

His great-grandson did
not know where the tree,

nor the forest, nor
the village were.

Not even the
words of the prayer.

But he still knew the story,
so he told it to his children,

and God heard him.

My own story is
full of missing links,

full of blanks.

And I do not even have a child.

-I loved him as no woman
could ever love a man.

We did everything together.

We earned a good
living together,

and each of my
thoughts was only for him.

He was such a handsome
and warm-hearted man.

If I wanted to, I
could talk to him.

If I wanted to keep quiet,
he respected my silence.

One day, quite
suddenly, he died,

leaving me alone with
our 13-year-old daughter.

My world fell apart.

I...

sat down on a chair,
looking straight ahead.

My eyes were tearless.

I was senseless.

Only when it was night
and dark could I cry.

I sat on a chair
crying all night long.

But at daybreak, I had to get
up to make breakfast for my

daughter.

I thought to myself, "At least I
do not have to get dressed,"

as I never got
undressed that whole night.

I thought of my mother, who had
remained in Poland and from whom

I had no news in
such a long time.

Were they all dead over there?

What was
happening in my old land?

Terror gripped my heart but
I managed to chase it away.

I said to myself that everything
had been easier for her.

Her parents had married her off
at the age of 16 to a man she

did not love without
even asking her opinion.

She got used to
him, to this man,

to my father.

When he died, life
went on as before.

Anyway, so it seemed to me.

I was still a little girl.

My daughter and I had breakfast
in the kitchen -- a little bread

and tea.

I thought to
myself, "He is dead,

and here we go on, eating."

I felt like throwing
myself out the window,

but I held myself back.

I thought, "He will
never eat with us again,

ever.

He's lying, very peacefully,
on a bed in the bedroom."

It was as if he had
known he was going to die.

He had taken out a very
heavy life insurance.

But what was I to do
with all that money?

It was his way of
saying to me...

"When I'm gone, life will go on.

You will have enough to live on.

America is a big and
beautiful country.

You see, I have
no abandoned you,

I am with you still."

We had lived
through pogroms, hunger,

cold.

It was even said
that today, in Europe,

people are being
taken into slavery,

but so many things were said.

In the end, what we knew was
this: we could live here without

being afraid, without
creeping along the walls.

And then he had to die.

And everything was nothing.

When they came to
take him away...

they put him in a coffin.

Then, I fainted.

Yosi, my husband's best friend,
came to take us to the cemetery,

he brought me back to life
with a-- a little cologne.

A touch at the
temples, at the wrists.

My head felt as if it
was going to burst,

and Yosi held me...

very tight, by the hands.

When they closed my
husband's coffin,

I became hysterical to stop them
from putting him into the grave,

and Yosi held me back forcefully
from-- from the grave to calm me

down.

I think that I screamed.

I do not...

know how it happened, but on
the way back from the cemetery,

on the way home...

Yosi and I were alone together.

Sarala, my daughter, must
have been in another car.

I began crying again.

I had hoped so much that
some miracle would happen,

something.

But now, he was buried.

What could ever happen?

Yosi did everything he
could to comfort me.

He was such a nice boy,
my husband's best friend,

a good friend.

He spoke to me
softly, to comfort me.

He...

took me in his arms
and whispered in my ear.

Then, as he spoke, he
kissed me with...sweet kisses.

Very tender kisses,
as one kisses a child.

I felt the tears
running from his eyes.

He was crying too.

We were both crying.

Then, I felt his
mouth meet mine,

and he kissed me the
way a man kisses a woman.

And...I was so tired and
confused that I let him kiss me.

And without even
thinking of my own actions,

I kissed him back.

I was so exhausted.

I did not know where I was.

It was dark all around me.

I let myself continue to cry.

Again and again, he kissed me...

but I had no strength to resist.

He spoke to me.

He said many things,
but I heard nothing.

They were words of love
but I did not hear them.

I was...

unconscious in his
arms, a living corpse.

When I got home, my
daughter had already arrived.

She looked at me with
big, questioning eyes.

I could not bear to
look in those eyes,

but she stared at me.

And it was as if...she had
guessed everything and was

asking me why.

Her stare pierced my
soul but I had no reply.

But who has an answer anyway?

And what kind of
woman had I become?

-Six months ago, I brought my
fiance to this country from

Poland.

I tore her away from her family.

Her parents did not
want her to leave.

For them, she was no longer
among the living and they sat

shiva for her.

She had no one else
left in the world but me.

I had to earn a living,
so I shaved my beard...

and I cut my side curls and
I closed my prayer books...

and I went out into the world.

And I said, "God
will forgive me."

There was nothing
else I could do.

I had to earn a living.

When I went to
meet her at the boat,

she hardly recognized me...

without my beard and
dressed like an American.

And we were
married that same day.

There was no family...

but a few of my friends
from work were present.

And I said to her, "We will
build a family of our own.

And we will have
our own children.

And later, they will have
children who will have children

of their own."

Anyway, we could
not stay over there.

That-- that was no life.

And then I told
her that one day,

we would have enough money and
we would bring over the rest of

the family.

And she listened to me silently.

Her face weighing
and her eyes big.

And she smiled.

But I felt that she was not able
to believe me and that she was

suffering.

I mean, everything was
strange to her and upsetting.

I mean, this unknown
language and these knew faces,

it all upset her.

Anyway, that next
day, she fell ill.

And I had to go to
work or I'd be fired.

My boss had already warned me.

And that night, when I
returned to our unheated room,

things were not any better.

And the following
day, they got worse.

I mean, she stayed in the
bed, still being silent...

with her eyes
looking up to the ceiling.

But she didn't cry and
she didn't complain.

Fortunately, that following day
was Saturday and I didn't have

to go to work.

So the doctor came.

And although he didn't know
the cause of her illness,

he prescribed medicine.

So I had to go back to work.

I mean, how could I pay for
the medicine if I didn't?

I mean, what, beg
on the streets? [laughs]

Well, 'cause what
kind of man is a beggar?

He's not a man.

By mid-day, I was so sick
with worry that I ran home.

And when I opened the door, I
heard this frightful voice.

Just wheezing and muttering.

And-- and I heard the
voice of an old woman.

And I ran to my wife's
side and she was delirious.

And I put my hand on her
forehead and she was burning up.

I mean, she was going out of
her mind and I was quickly going

mad.

So I went back to the
door and I shut it.

And I went over to the stove...

and I turned on the gas.

And I went back to my
wife beside the bed...

and I laid down next to her.

And I held her in my arms.

Just the two of us together.

'Cause if she was gonna die,
she was not gonna die alone.

[sighs]

And I let myself slip
into death at her side.

And I felt relief.

And then, suddenly, my
wife, she cried out for air.

And-- and I heard her with
what little strength I had left.

And I picked myself
up out of the bed.

And not yet dead, I crawled over
to the window and I opened it,

and I turned off the gas.

And I picked my
wife up in my arms.

And I carried her over to the
window where she breathed like

someone who had almost drowned.

And she began to feel better.

Her fever fell.

And the color came
back into her face.

And she opened up her eyes.

And she was hungry.

She wanted to eat.

And she began to get better.

And I had almost killed her.

I-- I felt like a criminal.

And I had lost all
hope and all the time,

this little bit of life
was beating inside of her.

[sighs]

And the following
day, she woke up singing.

And she sang as she
made the breakfast,

and then she continued to sing
as she moved around our home.

And a few days later, I
found a good job in a shop...

with a boss who
treated me like a son.

And he wanted me to
become his partner.

And now, my wife is
expecting a baby.

And I'm so happy.

I mean, we're alive
and everything is well.

-Mister!

Tell me, before I go completely
crazy in this country...

how did you manage
to shave so fast?

-You know life?

Life is like a fountain.

-Why?

-So okay!

Life isn't like a fountain.

-Hello, Teitelbaum!

-Mandelbaum, drop dead.

-Come on, Titlebaum.

What's the matter with you?

I give you a polite "Hello" a--
and you tell me to drop dead!

Why?

-Why?

I tell you why.

Suppose I'd
answered you politely,

"Hello."

Then, you're gonna
ask me where I'm going.

Then, I'm gonna tell you I'm
going to the Houston Street

steam bath.

Then, you're gonna tell me the
Avenue A steam bath is better.

Then, you're gonna tell me that
a man who prefers the Houston

Street steam bath to the Avenue
A steam bath must have a hole in

his head.

So I holler that I man who
prefers the Avenue A steam bath

to the Houston Street steam
bath must be completely crazy.

So you call me a schmuck.

So I holler back, "What?!

A schmuck?!

Drop dead!"

Well, instead of going
through that whole long hoo-ha,

I answered right away
"Drop dead" and that ends it.

Goodbye.

-Hello, Aronberg!

-Hello, Milstein.

How are you?

How's the wife and children?

-Everyone's fine!

My wife is flourishing.

She's walking down the street
like the queen of New York!

She just left for
vacation in Florida.

And with a little help from God,
she won't become sick this year.

My children are also doing well!

Eszter's going to marry a fine
young man from Queens whom she

met at a friend's house, and
Dalia is finishing high school.

Well, goodbye, Aronberg.

-As for me...

I'm not going very
well, thank you.

[foreign language].

I began studying scientific
books when I was very young.

My father didn't say
anything, but he disapproved.

He believed my studies were
separating me from God and he

was right.

I was constantly
tormented by doubt.

As long as I was
living with them at home,

I continued to go to
synagogue and to attend yeshiva,

but I was constantly disturbed
in classes with all sorts of

questions.

As soon as I came to
this country, I became

a free-thinker.

My parents stayed behind and
they're probably dead by now.

Here, I'm open to
the world of ideas.

I have joined the
Communist party,

I spend my life at
meetings, my wife too.

We live in continual exultation.

We are going to
change the world.

When others would arrive with
dreadful news from Russia,

we listened, but we
didn't believe them.

Eventually, we had children and
we had less and less free time.

I had to work more, but
still, we kept the same ideas.

Then, I began to feel something
was missing from my life.

I became gloomy, nervous.

In time, I did not know why.

My wife was worried about me.

My children looked at me as
if they were afraid of me.

I lost me appetite.

I didn't know what
to do with myself.

When friends would come over and
tell me of the latest strikes or

motions that had been voted on,
the conversations left me with a

nasty taste in my mouth.

The faces of my
parents invaded my mind.

My father, such a
fine man, and my mother,

who would have never hurt a fly.

My mother kept a secret diary.

When I was little, I found
it and I read her words.

"I can only confide
in you, my diary,

because I am a woman."

My parents were stripped naked.

Like many others.

It wasn't so much
their deaths that...

But their nakedness haunted.

And no one to say
kaddish for them.

I was the only one left alive
and I had not said kaddish for

them.

Moreover, who would
say kaddish for me,

I wondered.

My children -- true Americans,
good children -- knew nothing

about it.

And why would I, a
free-thinker, have taught them

anything about it?

One day, by chance, I
walked into a synagogue.

It was Yom Kippur and I
didn't even know about it.

People were walking into
the synagogue looking pale,

having fasted.

I was alone.

I watched as I
started to follow them in,

and then, at the last moment,
I remembered I was no longer a

believer.

I remembered that I even thought
that this belief kept the world

in darkness.

I didn't go in, but I was
unable to pull myself from the

synagogue walls.

A force greater than me
held me there immobile.

Inside, they began to pray.

And from where I was
standing steadfast,

I heard the melodies.

And suddenly, my
heart became light.

The strain that had oppressed
it for so long disappeared.

I felt tears
welling up in my eyes.

For a good while after
that, I felt better.

Then, a...iron hand
gripped my heart again.

I felt fretful and depressed.

My wife didn't recognize me.

My children
didn't want to see me.

I could no longer work.

Finally, I could
bear it no longer,

and I ran into the
synagogue and there,

among my own
people, I felt appeased.

And without realizing
it, my lips began to move.

At first, no words came out.

And then, out of my
body came a voice.

I prayed.

And I'd forgotten nothing.

It was as if in one second, I
had erased all those years in

America, where I thought
I'd found my true self.

I was a man who knew the
universe was formed by a big

bang.

I was a man who didn't believe
that God had spoken to Moses.

I still don't believe this.

But there I was,
praying and praying.

I prayed for my parents.

I prayed for all those
who can never again pray.

I even prayed for myself.

And I understood each and
every word of the prayers.

They brought me
back to my childhood,

to another world of
which nothing now remains.

I went home, saw my children
happy and free as children who

have no past.

In a way, they
seemed strange to me.

Not my own.

I told myself, "You've raised
savages in this savage America."

I no longer knew who I was.

Was this man who was praying me?

Or was he my shadow?

Now, every night...

I wait impatiently for
everyone to go to sleep.

And quietly, I get up,
pick up the old Gemara,

and become
engrossed in the Talmud.

A pure atheist like me
finding happiness in the Talmud.

Can you imagine that?

Isn't that a real crazy story?

-[sighing] Oy.

-What's the matter?

My shoes are killing me.

-So why are you wearing them?

-Why?

Well...I am going
to tell you why.

My business couldn't be worse.

I owe money to the
butcher, to the...baker,

to the grocer, to the landlord.

I have two daughters.

So ugly.

Who knows if I am be
able to marry them one day?

My son...is a real idiot.

And my wife nags and nags
and nags until I go crazy.

Each night, when I come back
from a fruitless day of work,

and I look at my bills,
and I look at my family,

at that point, I
could kill myself.

So...

I take off my shoes...

and mister...

this minute, when my
shoes off my feet,

is such a mechayeh, it's
only thing that make life worth

living, ah?

Oy. [sighs]

-Ahh.

[sings in foreign language]

-I had just turned 16 years old
when I left my little hometown

in Poland.

It was heartbreaking to
leave my mother and father,

but they said that horrible
things were going to happen in

Europe, and they wanted at least
their only daughter to survive.

I did not want to leave.

I preferred to die
rather than to leave them.

My mother said that
people do not die so young.

Before my
departure, she told me,

without looking into my eyes,
that a man would come to fetch

me at the boat and that I
should say he was my fiance.

She said that otherwise,
they wouldn't let me into the

country.

That is how Americans are.

She told me that
over there in America,

I would never go
hungry, never be afraid,

that I would live as in a dream.

At the age of 16, I left my home
and my family and our town and

came to America.

Just as my mother said, a man
came to fetch me at the boat.

I said he was my fiance, like
my mother had told me to do.

Then, the officials asked me and
that man to hold up two fingers,

and then we had to
kiss each other.

I felt odd kissing a stranger.

At home, I did not have the
right to look a man in the eyes.

After the kiss, they
let me into the country.

The man took me to a
store full of merchandise.

I had never seen so many things.

He told me that here, I had
to wear different clothes,

so that he would
not be ashamed of me.

He told me that I
had to be modern,

that I should wear a
dress with short sleeves.

I rather liked the clothes,
but I was a little frightened.

I could hardly recognize myself,
and I wondered what my mother

would have said.

After that, the man
took me to a bedroom.

I immediately saw that
someone lived there,

but the man said it
would be my bedroom.

I noticed that the clothes in
the room were men's clothes.

I said, "Whose
clothes are they?"

He said, "Mine."

I said, "But where
is your bedroom?"

He said, "Here.

This is my bedroom too."

Then I said that we could
not stay in the same room,

that I could not stay in
the same room as a man.

He said that he was not
just any man but my husband,

that we are now married, but
that I was to be his wife and

that I should
behave like a wife.

He took me in his arms and I
was so frightened that I almost

fainted.

Then, I fought him off
with all my strength.

I had heard about what a man
does to a woman and know that

that is what life is
supposed to be like,

but I didn't feel I
was married to this man.

Day and night, I fought him off.

But especially at night, when he
wanted what a man wants from a

woman.

I decided to find a job
to get money to run away.

I found work.

But now, he spies on me, comes
to where I work all the time.

I think he understands
that I want to run away.

What can I do?

Where can I go?

I am alone, I know no one here,
and my parents are so far away.

I miss them so much and I am
sure they did what they thought

was best for me.

There is no place in
the world I can go.

What am I to say now?

-[sings in foreign language]

-Where's a kosher delicatessen?

Wh-- wh-- wh--
where's the synagogue?

And the-- the Jews,
where are the Jews?

Guvalt!

[foreign language]!

Help!

Jews are being beaten!

Where?

Why knows where?

In Hungary?

Russia, maybe?

I only wanted to know if
anybody here gives a damn.

[laughs]

-Listen.

Let's walk on the
other sidewalk,

okay?

-Why?

-Well, they are two
and we-- we are alone.

-When I first got
married, my wife was so shy,

so humble, so gentle.

Never would she raise
her voice against anyone.

She did everything she
could to help me in the store.

We worked hard together.

When we had children, she stayed
at home with them and took care

of them with love and patience.

Each day, I thanked God for
giving me such a good life.

One year ago, we rented one
of our rooms to a young man.

Then, our home life changed.

I noticed that my wife
began to neglect the children.

At night, dinner was not
ready when I came from work.

And she began to
go to the theater,

to the cafes with him.

And she decided to be an artist.

Of all things, an artist?

Then, they both joined the
Communists and accused me of

being a capitalist, of
oppressing the poor.

But...

I was poor myself, so how
could I oppress the poor?

Then, the neighbors
began to make insinuations.

They said this...man and my wife
were having a...affair behind my

back, but I could
not believe them.

Not me, her husband...

the man who loved her.

But I knew her true nature, and
I know that could not be true.

Not her, not my wife.

And if becoming an
artist would make her happy,

then an artist she should be.

And if becoming a
Communist is what she wanted,

then let her be one, so
long as she loves me.

But one day I...

I saw them
kissing in the street.

My heart stopped beating.

I had to lean against a building
to keep from falling down.

I couldn't believe it.

When I returned home, all
of her things were gone.

So were the young man's.

The children were
alone and playing,

laughing, unawares of
all that was going on.

I did not know what to do.

I don't want to go on living,
but the children need a mother

so I'm going to go and look
for her and look for her until I

find her.

And she will love me again.

She will love me again.

I will forgive her.

And we will be happy.

Everything will be as it was.

It has to be.

-♪Do you remember
sweet Betsy from Pike♪

♪Who crossed the white
mountains with her brother Ike?♪

♪She crossed and she went
and then something so♪

♪And she went and she went and
she [inaudible] something more♪

♪Dada da da dada
da dada da dadum♪

Harry, why do you always go
outside when I start to sing?

You know how it
hurts my feelings.

-What do you want me to do?

Stay inside and have the
neighbors think I'm beating you?

-What are you doing here?

-I'm waiting.

-What are you waiting for?

There's nothing to
wait for in this world.

-Are you dancing?

-Are you asking?

-I'm asking.

-I'm dancing.

-When we arrived in
America more than 12 years ago,

I thought we
would never survive.

I had two little children then,
and my husband couldn't feed

them.

He looked all over
town, everywhere,

to find work.

Sometimes, he was
hired for a day or two.

But there was never enough money
to pay for our room and food.

The children became so thin
you could see their bones.

They looked at me
with their big,

hungry eyes.

They didn't dare to
ask for anything.

They didn't dare to cry.

They clung close to my
body to get a little warmth.

And one day, the landlord came
and he demanded to be paid the

rent that very
evening, otherwise,

he was gonna throw us out.

My husband ran all over town to
find the four dollars that we

owed him.

But all his friends
were as poor as we were.

That evening, he came
home completely defeated,

having found not
a single dollar.

Seeing his distress,
I held back my tears,

I packed our backs, and I took
the two children in my arms and

I went out in the street.

And I sat down on the sidewalk.

People passing by
threw us coins.

Neither I nor my
husband picked them up.

And then, an elegant lady
stopped in front of us and she

asked a few questions.

She treated us like human beings
and she kissed the children as

if they were hers.

And when she found out
what had happened to us,

she took us to her home.

There, she gave us
something to eat.

And then, she went out to buy
warm clothes and some nice toys

for the children.

She would have
done anything for us.

Her husband gave my husband
$50 and promised him a job.

The lady was so happy.

She kissed, she hugged
the children all the time.

Overwhelmed, her
husband told us,

"You have brought
happiness into our house."

I didn't understand, but
I offered no resistance.

I was relieved, a
little worried,

but the warmth of our new
friends set my mind at ease.

And the following
day, we rented a room,

we began a new life.

A few months later, with the
help of our generous friends,

my husband opened a
business that prospered,

and soon, we were
a happy family.

Not a day goes by now without
us seeing our benefactors.

We've lived on the same street
together for several years,

and for us, they're
more than family.

Now, I'm the
mother of six children,

three boys, three girls, each
one more beautiful and more

intelligent than the other.

They study well at
school, they're good children,

we're proud of them.

What more can a mother ask for?

My husband does a good business.

And the hell of our earlier
years has long been forgotten.

But recently...

something dreadful happened
that troubles me a great deal.

Our friends, who
saved our lives,

have no children.

They're well-off, they
get along with each other.

However, they have
one great sorrow:

they're desperate to have
children and they cannot.

And they're so
attached to our children.

Last week, Ellen, our friend,
came to pour her heart out to

me, sobbing.

She told me she no longer
enjoyed anything and that her

life was empty and joyless.

I did what I
could to comfort her.

I told her she
shouldn't despair,

that at her age, she
could still have children.

And then, she burst out sobbing
and she said she knew that that

was not possible.

And that only I in all
the world could help her.

I told her of course, I
would do anything to help her.

And then she told me...

that she wanted me to give
her...my youngest child.

Not even two years old.

And when I heard these words, I
felt the blood leave my body.

I almost fainted.

I said I had to speak
to my husband about it.

But she cries and she begs to
have this child that she loves

more than anything
else in the world.

But he's my child.

And nothing in the
world, not even gold,

could replace him.

Her husband tries
to reason with her.

He's more
affectionate to her than ever.

But it doesn't help.

And I have the
impression that if this goes on,

she'll go crazy and I will too.

I'm afraid that this
will end in tragedy.

-Listen, Finkelstein.

I am really happy
to run into you.

Maybe you can give me a
little bit of advice.

You are a wise man
and everything you do,

you do well.

-With pleasure, but,
uh, what's the matter,

Bernstein?

-I don't know what I have to do.

Poorer than myself,
you will not find.

I have one room -- one single
room -- where we are living

eight of us
together -- me, my wife,

and my six children.

And every year, my wife brings
a new baby into the world.

They are
beautiful babies, but I,

myself, do not know
what to do and feed them.

What do I have to do?

I don't know anymore what to do.

-Do nothing.

-"Goodbye forever," my brother
said to me when I left Poland.

He was only eight years old and
my mother did not want him to

leave with us.

I said, "Why forever?"

He told me he felt we would
never see each other again.

I told him that at his age, he
was too little to feel that kind

of thing.

And then he
turned his head away.

At that moment, I became
frightened that he might be

right.

But my father and I left anyway.

As soon as we would
get enough money,

we thought we would bring
over my mother and brother.

Here, my father
worked day and night.

During the day, he was
door-to-door salesman,

and at night, he cut
out and tailored suits.

But still, we never
had enough money.

My father grew so
then that he scared me.

And then, after
all our struggles,

he fell ill and died, and I
was left alone and wanted to die

too.

But our neighbor came to get me.

She said I was
going to live with her.

You did not leave a 14-year-old
girl alone in a house.

And then, a few months later,
I learned that my mother and

brother had died too.

I did not even
cry, I was so numb.

And anyway, it was as if they
had all died a long time ago and

me too.

And then, one day in the
street, a few feet away from me,

I saw him.

It was me brother!

He had grown up so, but
it was really my brother!

And I wanted to cry out "Isaac!"

But the words would not
come out of my mouth.

And I wanted to run toward
him but my legs could not move.

Then, he turned the corner.

Only then did my legs
take off on their own,

but when I got to the
street, he was gone.

I ran around the block.

I ran and ran until nightfall,
but I did not find him.

Then, I put ads in all the
newspapers trying to find him

and my mother.

People even answered the
ads, but it was not them.

Now, every day, I go back to
that street where I saw him and

I wait.

That is all there is
left for me to do,

to wait from
morning until night.

Everyone tells me that I'm mad,
that I had a hallucination and

that sometimes, this happens
when you want something very

much.

Someone even once told me --
a survivor -- that he saw my

brother enter that place
from which there is no way out.

He told me that is what
they did with the children,

and he said that my mother was
far too weak to have survived

that hell.

But I know!

I saw my brother
with my own eyes!

It was really him!

-Do you know that God said that
one cannot go out with a married

woman?

-First of all, how can you be
sure that she's really married?

If she wasn't
married by the rabbi,

but only by the mayor, I don't
know if God would consider...

she's really married.

-Maybe not.

But in that case, would she
have the right to have sexual

relations with her husband?

-If her husband is
her husband, yes,

especially if she's not
married with another man.

-But if God doesn't consider
that she's really married with

her husband, maybe then God
would accept that I have sexual

relations with her.

-You?

Certainly not.

-And why not?

-Because you're a married man.

-But not by the rabbi.

-Then you are not a married man.

-So?

-So you'd better get married,
because it's a sin for a Jew not

to be married.

-But I am married.

-Then why do you ask
all these questions?

-You know what?

Even a married man has
the right to ask questions.

-I'm looking for a room to rent.

-Come.

Enter, please.

Who knows what'll
happen tomorrow?

Maybe we'll all be dead.

-We can die even
in the next minute.

-I'm as alone...as a stone.

And I'll never be in love again.

-I wonder what God
thinks of all this.

-Let him think what he wants.

Anyhow, he doesn't
know us anymore.

-But we don't know
him anymore either.

-I would like to tell my
sufferings to the world.

-But the world doesn't care.

-But then who cares?

-[man] Yaso!

Yaso, how are you?

-Well, I'm good.

Everything's good.

-Really?

But I heard you
had a terrible year.

So then how can
everything be so good?

-But everything is going well!

Every morning, I'm
good and depressed.

Every night, I'm good and tired.

In the summer, I'm
good and too hot.

In the winter,
I'm good and cold.

There's so many
holes in my roof,

I'm good and soaked.

My floor is so shaky,
when I take five steps,

I'm good and mad.

My children are so lazy, I'm
good and disgusted with them.

My wife talks so loud that
I'm good and sick of her.

In fact, all is going
so well in my life.

It's just that I'm
good and tired of living.

-Well, good.

So enjoy it.

[laughs]

-I'm enjoying it.

I'm enjoying it.

-I was born in a
little village in Poland,

and I lived there very
happily until the age of 13.

My parents did everything
to give me a good education.

Then, a pogrom broke out, and
they were the first victims of

the blood bath.

They burned our houses,
destroyed the synagogue,

spared no one, and no
one is left for me.

But that was not
enough for these murderers.

When they found me, I was
the last living person in the

village they
burned to the ground.

I begged them to kill
me, but they did not.

Instead, they stripped me of
my honor and left me there to

suffer and cry.

I lost my memory.

I do not remember
anything very well,

only that smell of burning.

And me lying somewhere in
the corner of that village,

silent and in ruins.

Then, some people from the
neighboring village came and

they took me with them.

They took care of me, but
they could never heal me.

Then, my family from
America sent for me,

but I feel like a stranger
here, neither dead nor alive.

And they have
stopped caring about me.

Here, I feel lonely as a stone.

A few months ago, I met a man.

A nice, sensitive man.

I loved him right away
and he loved me too.

But how can I, a
dishonored woman,

marry him?

Now, he has asked
me to marry him.

And I asked for a little time
before I give him an answer.

I even tried to discourage him,
but he does not want to hear of

it.

He urges me everyday
to give him an answer.

And his heart is heavy
because of my silence.

When he comes, I say
nothing, and when he leaves,

I burn with desire to
have him come back.

I want to tell him everything.

This secret leaves me restless.

It troubles me night and day.

I do not want to
hide anything from him.

If only he were to find out
everything and then make his own

choice.

One day, I will find
the strength to tell him.

I hope it will not be too late.

-My heart is broken
into a thousand pieces.

I cannot sleep, I hardly eat.

Here is why.

I love two men.

Have you ever
heard of such a thing?

But in this country, everything
is possible and nothing holds us

back.

I'm one of those immigrants
who works in a store and,

as I'm already 18 years old, I'm
starting to earn a good living

and my boss likes me.

Sometimes, I think
he likes me too much,

but I try not to notice because
he's a married man and he has

three beautiful children.

I've never really
seen, in true life,

the first man I love.

I first started loving him when
he sent me a picture of himself.

A nice face with such gentle
eyes that look very much like my

father's eyes.

He is a part of our family
and he lives in Chicago.

My parents want me to marry him,
so we started to write letters

to each other and the
letters got longer and longer.

He writes very well.

And in his own honest words, I
can feel what kind of man he is.

And certain letters are very
poetic and full of passion and

feelings.

And I like that.

And he earns a good
living, so if I marry him,

I will not have to work.

Three months ago, a man came
to buy the store where I work.

He came by several times.

And then I realized that he
kept coming back to see me.

And we started to
go out together.

And at first, I
thought he was a Jew.

And before I
discovered that he was not,

I fell in love with him.

And now, he wants to marry me.

[sighs]

I love him.

But I also love the
other man in Chicago.

I feel I'm a part of this new
world when I'm with him but it

frightens me that
he is not a Jew...

even though I am a
progressive person.

But with the other man, it
is completely different.

Each word he writes me
warms my heart and...

and sounds so familiar.

It is like a part of the old
country that I left behind me

over there
and...that I miss every day.

Inside me...

I feel that I'm not so different
from the girl I was in Poland,

even though
everything here is different.

I feel so lost.

H-- how can I choose?

Sometimes, I wonder if there
isn't something wrong with me.

-Where are you going?

-Washington.

-Why are you lying to me?

-But I'm not lying to you.

What makes you say
I'm lying to you?

-You tell me that you are going
to Washington to let me believe

that you're going
to Philadelphia...

when you are really
going to Washington.

-Where do you get
your money from?

-I take it from my night table.

-But who puts the
money in your night table.

-My wife.

-But who gives the
money to your wife?

-I do.

-But where do you
get your money from?

-From my night table.

-But who puts the
money in your night table?

-My wife.

-But who gives the
money to your wife?

-I do.

-But where do you
get your money from?

-From my night table.

-But who puts the
money in your night table?

-My wife.

-But who gives the
money to your wife?

-I do.

-[man] [singing in
foreign language]

-Give me the borscht.

-Take my advice,
have the chicken soup.

-I'd like the pea soup.

-If you'd like the pea
soup, take my advice,

have the barley.

-But with the bone?

-[inaudible] busy.

-How is this possible?

Hardly this morning, you came to
see me and you told me "My wife

and children are sick, and I
don't have the money to pay for

the hospital.

And all my windows are broken.

That's how it is
how they got sick.

And I don't have the money
for the window repairman,

and if I don't pay my rent,
they're going to throw me out,

and that won't be good for
the health of my family."

And now...

I find you sitting
here, like a king.

Doing what?

You're eating a filet of
salmon with mayonnaise.

And that is the only way
you found to spend my money?

Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

-Ashamed?

Even a poor man
has a right to sit.

And as regards to the
salmon a la mayonnaise,

without the money, it is
impossible to eat one.

And now that I've
found some money,

I can't eat the salmon either?

So tell me, when can I eat it?

-So...

when, then?

So, when, then?

-Sir?

Do you know whether to shit is a
physical or an intellectual act?

-Intellectual, of course.

-Intellectual?

Why?

-Because...

if it was physical, we would
hire someone to do it in our

place.

What's bothering you?

-Nothing, nothing.

-Don't be so discreet.

Tell me.

What's bothering you?

-Okay, I'm gonna tell you.

For days and days,
I've been wondering...

what's the difference between
a psychotic and a neurotic?

-Ah.

The difference between a
psychotic and a neurotic.

Well...

I'm going to tell you.

-Really?

-Yes.

Well...

a psychotic, he
thinks that two and two...

make five.

A neurotic, he knows
that two and two make four,

but...

he can't stand it.

-But me, I think two
and two make five,

and I still can't stand it.

[sighs]

In the Torah, it is written:

"Thou shalt not lie down
with another man for it is

a damnable thing.

And thou shall not lie down with
a sheep or you will be unclean

for a week."

-This chicken soup is really the
best I've ever tasted in all my

life.

-[inaudible]!

-So why didn't you recommend
the chicken soup to me?

-Because you didn't
ask for the borscht.

-[man] Waiter!

Waiter!

Waiter, my cake!

Listen, I changed my mind.

Bring me a schnapps instead.

Ahh.

-You owe me for the schnapps.

-But I gave you a
cake in exchange!

-You didn't pay for the cake!

-But I didn't eat it!

-[woman] Waiter!

-[man] Waiter!

-Me, I would like
a glass of tea.

-Me too.

A tea.

And in a clean glass, please.

-Waiter!

Taste this soup.

-30 years, you've been
eating the same soup.

Have I ever
served you a bad soup?

-Waiter, taste the soup.

-What's the matter
with you, [inaudible]?

You got problems?

The business?

Your wife, maybe?

The children?

I always thought that
David was a terrible tramp,

and that one day or another,
he'd make trouble for you.

I'm not saying that he'll end
up in jail or he'll take up

with...wayward women but, uh,
make enough trouble for you so

you won't be able
to sleep nights.

So you won't let
your wife sleep either,

which means she won't be
able to help you in the store.

So the store will have to close
because she is the business

woman and not you.

And then, you won't be able to
pay for Josie's studies anymore,

and he'll have a
nervous breakdown,

and then--

-Waiter!

Taste the soup!

-All right, all right, already.

I'll taste your soup.

Where's the spoon?

-Aha!

-Waiter!

-Who was the one who
wanted a clean glass?

-It was me.

Listen to me.

You, that make out
so well with women.

You must have a trick.

How do you do it?

How do you have to talk to them?

-Well, I will
tell you my secret.

Jewish girls like three topics
of conversation in particular:

food, family...

philosophy.

That's all you have to remember.

Now, to ask a girl what she
wants to eat makes her feel

important.

To ask her questions about
her family shows that you have

honorable intentions.

And to discuss philosophy, that
is the most important of all.

That shows you have
respect for her intelligence.

-Food...

family...

and philosophy!

Hello.

Do you like noodles?

-No.

-Do you have a brother?

-No.

-But if you had a
brother, he would like noodles.

-Take the umbrella!

Take the umbrella!

It's going to rain!

I feel it!

-I don't feel it.

-[crying]

-So you, too, are in
the schmata business.

-So it is my death you want.

-Our children are ashamed of
us because we speak Yiddish.

They all went to the
university, even our daughter,

and we're proud of them.

They've become
doctors and professors.

Who could ask for more?

But...

we have brought up
strangers in this world.

My daughter, my only daughter
has dyed her hair strawberry

blonde.

My heart aches.

Am I wrong to want
to speak Yiddish?

Should I, too, dye my hair
blonde to please my children?

-I am leaving.

I am leaving.

I am going back to Warsaw.

To survive here, you have
to have a heart of stone!

Moishe...

lend me some money.

-I can't.

-But-- but you're rich!

-That's why.

-[laughs]

What do you see, huh?

-People.

-What do you see...now?

-Myself.

-Ah!

You see what a
little silver can do,

huh?

Before, you saw people.

Now, you only see yourself.

Ah...

I'm leaving.

I'm going back to Warsaw.

-He's a dead man.

[laughs]

-[inaudible], you
put this scarf on!

It is cold outside!

-No.

No scarf.

-Excuse me.

Are you Jewish?

-No, not at all.

-Your father was Jewish.

-No, not at all.

-Your mother, maybe?

-No.

-Perhaps your
grandparents were Jewish.

-No.

-Your great-grandparents.

-[sighs] My great-grandparents
were Jewish, and they died in a

pogrom.

My grandparents were Jewish,
and they starved to death.

My parents were Jewish,
and they died at Auschwitz.

And I am a Jew,
and for the moment,

I'm doing very well, thank you.

-Well, well, well.

That's very strange.

You don't look Jewish.

-[inaudible]!

It has been so long!

Oh, I am so glad to hear you.

But tell me, how are you?

Fine?

[laughs] Oh, I understand,
you have people over.

I will call you back later.

-Max, I beg you,
put the scarf on!

It is cold outside!

-Good.

Now, tell me, is
it warm outside?

-[laughs]

-In a few days, I will no
longer be among the living.

I have chosen the 24th of June
to end my life because it is the

day that my parents
disappeared from this world,

and with them, so many others.

It is the day that they died and
it is the day that I shall die.

Why?

Look at me.

I'm young, I'm full of
strength, but inside of me,

there's only ashes.

My body is meant to bring
others into life but it won't.

My hands are meant
to work and caress,

but they tremble as
if they weren't mine.

When I look into the mirror,
I see this healthy man as if

nothing had happened,
and I feel horrified.

This can't be me.

When I eat any meat,
I feel only blood.

And when I breathe, I feel
the odor of murder and death.

When I walk, it's as if
I'm stumbling over corpses.

I don't want to
breathe anymore and I won't.

Why should I survive when
everyone else has died?

Why must I stay
alive to remember?

-Listen, Sarala, things
can't go on like this.

You've got to get married.

When I die, who will take
care of you when you get sick if

you're not married?

Look at that young man.

What a magnificent young man!

-But Dad, he's going
to commit suicide.

-Suicide or no suicide,
as long as you like him.

-I have an answer.

I have an answer!

Does anyone have a question?

-[all] I do!

-[singing in foreign language]

-[man] Waiter, waiter!

-[singing in foreign language]

-[men] Waiter!

-[singing in foreign language]

-[woman] Waiter!

-[singing in foreign language]

Oh, what a beautiful night!

-What a beautiful night tonight.

-What's so
beautiful about this night?

-I don't see anything beautiful.

-See or not see, as
long as you hear.

-Are you hearing your thoughts?

-I have no thoughts.

-Neither do I.

I have a green
card, a gold card,

a platinum card,
and a union card.

-But you still have emphysema.

-I take my pills, but I still
have the high blood pressure.

-What pressure?

There's no pressure here.

-I thought you were dead.

Somebody even told me they
knocked you down and-- and you

wouldn't get up again
but, uh, coming from you,

it didn't surprise me.

"As lazy as ever,"
I said to myself.

I was very upset.

I-- I-- I even
said kaddish for you.

-But maybe I am dead.

-Who knows, but, uh,
then if you're dead,

maybe I'm dead, too.

-And both of us are ghosts.

-Ghosts.

But, uh, from where?

-That I don't know and I
certainly do not want to go back

there.

-Tell me, how's
your cousin doing?

-A lot better.

The doctor said he could
leave the psychiatric home.

-Is that where he was?

-Yes, he thought he
was a grain of corn.

But things are going better.

-So, uh, where is he now?

-Up in a tree.

And if you want my opinion,
I think he's better there.

-But why?

And, uh...what's he
doing up in a tree?

-Well-- [sighs] now
that he is cured,

he knows that he is not a
grain of corn but a man.

But who can know
what the hens think?

-Who knows what hens think?

-[men] Who knows?

-[foreign language].

-Sing me something before I die.

-[sings in foreign language]

[foreign language]

What a beautiful
night this is!

What a night.

Lovely.

Just beautiful.

Beautiful stars.

And the moon!

Oh...

Just for living,
just for living.

-Which way...is to
Thornton Street?

-You, uh-- you-- you
follow this street,

you go straight head.

You keep straight
ahead, then you make a left.

No, uh, rather, a right.

No, no, it's-- n--
neither a left nor a right.

Um...

you come back 50 meters...

then, you go kitty-corner
a little, and you'll pass

Yankel's.

You should ask her!

She knows all about geography
and she knows all the names of

the stars in the sky.

-Speaking about Yankel,
I think I understood.

If he is outside, it's-- it is
because he doesn't like to be

inside...

perhaps because he
doesn't love his wife anymore.

Probably just
happened to him one day,

just like that, to
stop loving her.

And how ever, he did
not love her a lot.

Now, he has no more strength.

It is perhaps a
question of age, perhaps not.

But that is the way it is.

And-- and if he
looks at the ground,

it is...perhaps because he
doesn't want to look at the sky

anymore, and surely
not in front of him,

because what is in front of
him, he knows all too well.

-But tell me!

Why do you have to go there?

What's so good about Stanton
Street compared to Fulton?!

Or Orchard Street, for example?

-[laughs] I-- I don't know.

-But I know.

I am going to tell you
the way to Stanton Street.

You're going to walk steadily
for two kilometers that way.

Then, you-- you walk back 10
meters and you go around my

brother-in-law's garage.

Don't ask him anything because
he is so hopeless that he'll

hold you up for
hours talking to you.

What does a man have
to talk so much for?

And talking never did make
hopelessness any better.

Huh?

When you-- when you
go around the garage,

in the distance,
you'll see a newspaper man.

He doesn't like to
sell today's paper,

only yesterday's.

Because for him, the past is
always better than the present,

and the present
is there anyway,

so why sell it?

Once you have gone
by the newspaper man,

well, take a left.

No.

Take...

an...

Well, I don't know anymore.

Um...

you should ask Moishe.

He at least knows
how to explain things.

Moishe!

Moishe, come over her.

-No, no, no, no.

Ask Sarah!

Sarah...

Women are more precise.

Besides, they know the roads.

Besides, Sarah has been
hanging out day and night.

I-- I don't know how
long, I don't know why.

"Not for love," she says.

Sarah!

-Sarah, the way
to Stanton Street.

-Oh, it's easy!

-Look, you see that
building over there?

The one sticking out?

Well, you go in that direction.

Above all, don't take
your eyes off that building.

Then, when you no
longer see it, you turn.

No.

Do you turn to the
left or to the right?

-W-- W-- what does it mean, do
you turn to the left or to the

right?

-What is important is to turn.

Then, you will come to a square.

-No, no.

Not a square.

To an intersection!

And there, you go
past the red light,

and s-- a second--

-A third.

Then, you go down the stairs.

No...

-No, you go up the stairs.

Then, at the top, you--

-No, at the top, you go down
the stairs and you pass by the

garbage cans and you
continue ahead a few steps.

No...

-And th-- and then, you stop
to think it's better in these

cases.

Then, you go on a steep road.

Then left, and
then-- then right,

then-- then right, uh...

No, no, uh...

-There is no way to
get to Stanton Street.

-Good, uh...

[laughs] then I better say here.

[laughs]

Ahh.

One day...

in Moscow or in-- in
Warsaw, as you like,

there is a man waiting in
line in front of a...butcher.

He's been waiting in the middle
of hundreds of others...

for hours!

When his turn comes
up, he asks the butcher,

"I would like to
have a fillet of beef."

The butcher looks at him
stupefied and responds,

"Fillet of beef?!

No, mister.

We don't have that."

"Well, then, uh...

[laughs] I-- I would like
to have the lamb cutlets."

But the butcher looks at
him more and more shocked.

"But no, mister!

We don't have lamb cutlets!"

"Well, then...

[laughs] veal cutlets!"

"No, mister, certainly not.

We don't have veal cutlets."

[laughs] "If not
veal cutlets, then...

maybe...veal...roast?

Huh?"

"But mister...why don't you ask
me for something we do have?!"

"Well...then, uh...

give me simply...

the breast of duck."

The butcher
responds, "There isn't any."

"Ah..."

And the man leaves.

And the butcher says...

"What a fool.

But how he remembers...

Hah!

How he remembers!"

[laughs]

[grunting]