Original subtitles

Maximiliane Irene von Quindt grew up without a father or mother.

She lived with her grandparents on the Poenichen estate in Western Pomerania.

Old Quint was proud of his granddaughter, even though she carried the blood of a Polish officer who had played an important role in the life of his wife, Sophie Charlotte.

The child stays here.

Maximiliane's mother, Vera, leaves Poenichen forever after a heated argument with her father-in-law.

Her daughter doesn't miss her. The most important person for Maximiliane is her grandfather.

Did you have a bad dream?

1929: The Great Depression breaks out this year.

Sound film becomes widespread. In Berlin, the first television broadcast is aired.

Stalin establishes himself as the sole ruler of the Soviet Union.

Thomas Mann receives the Nobel Prize for Literature, and Germany is ordered to pay 105 billion marks within thirty years in reparations.

Peasant unrest erupts in Schleswig-Holstein.

In Berlin, where Joseph Goebbels has been Gauleiter of the Nazi Party for several years, police and demonstrators engage in bloody street battles.

Germany has been a member of the League of Nations for several years.

Heinrich Himmler becomes Reichsführerof the SS, and Remarque's novel All Quiet on the Western Front is published.

In the East, in Pomerania, a child grows up in the security and reliable order of a small world, learning little or nothing of all this.

Maximiliane Irene von Quindt, the young noblewoman, the future lady of the manor, doesn't even attend school.

Her school is called Poenichen.

Amazing, Blaskorken. Truly amazing.

A few weeks ago you were still using the word "insolent," Baron.

Really? Did I? Well, "insolent" might have been a bit strong.

But I reserve the right to change my opinion.

Even regarding my assumptions about your past.

You never asked me about it.

No.

I won't.

Grandpa, I saw a pike! So close! So big and old!

Come on, kid! You must have been very curious about me and much more careless than old pike usually are.

Really, Grandpa! So close! I'm coming out now!

Well, come on then!

The young sheep, Mr. von Quindt?

That's your business, Blaskorken. Do as you see fit.

You are the good shepherd here.

As far as animals are concerned.

That was my move.

Baron Stresemann has died.

I read it, Quint. You liked him, didn't you?

Who is Stresemann?

A politician, my child, who did a great deal of good for our fatherland and wanted to do much more.

He was poorly thanked. The way of the world.

I can surely dismiss the old Miss Ahrens song.

Don't you think Miss Ahrens' musical interests are slowly taking shape?

You'd better stay out of it. Sophie Charlotte, but I agree with you.

Miss Ahrens taught me a new song by Hermann Lön.

So, I think, Riepe, you should take Miss Ahrens to the ten-horse train to Stargard tomorrow.

Yes, sir.

Next year I'll grow wheat here instead of rapeseed.

Why? Isn't your rapeseed good?

Isn't my rapeseed good? My rapeseed is always good.

But the soil likes it when you change the seeds every now and then.

I also like having something different to eat every day.

That looks good.

Where did we leave off in history last time?

With the Brandenburgers.

Right, with the Brandenburgers.So, the Brandenburgers.

Look, the earthworm. Anna said you can cut earthworms in half.

They still live on as two.

Anna's right about that, as far as I know.

But there's absolutely no reason to try it out. At least not on Poenichen.

Only what you say is allowed on Poenichen?

Not just about anything. Later, it'll be you.

It says what's going to happen here.

I know.

Do you know what I'd like, Grandfather?

What is it, child?

Wait.

Do you know enough about it?

That's lovely.

Yes, you could call it that.

But that's what the whole creation story is based on.

So what was it you'd like to do?

Learn to ride, Grandfather.

Anna!

Well, don't go down then.

I can't reach the strongest one,

I can see that.

The horses are too tall for me.

No. Your legs are too short for the Poenichen horses.

But they wouldn't be too short for a pony.

My God, a pony, that's an investment that's not worthwhile for an only child.

You understand, don't you, if we have the saddler shorten the mounting platform a bit?

The frequent mention that she is an only child is taking its toll.

When Quint suggests that they should start looking for a husband for the child in good time,

the now twelve-year-old asks, "Is the prospect of seeing a man worthwhile for an only child?"

Help me! I'm drowning!

Help me! I'm drowning!

Don't do that normally.

Please never do that again.

But she's only twelve.

Why should she be any different from the girls in the village?

Or our young ladies? Surely not because she lives in a castle with you.

You're being very open tonight, Sophie Charlotte.

I was speaking quite generally, Quint.

My Maximiliane. That would never have occurred to me.

Have you ever considered what role jealousy might play in your intense moral and pedagogical concern?

Jealousy?

Quint, I beg your pardon. Your inspector isn't just anyone, he's a man. A rival. No?

You mean one can see it that way?

One must see it that way, Quint.

Yes, and what do you think I should do now?

What I've always respected you for, Quint. Let life take its course.

Yes, and Blaskorken? Should I trust his decency or his sufficient knowledge of the penal code, as he himself put it?

Shouldn't I stay out of it, Quint?

Good morning, Tarkin.

Good morning, Herr von Quindt.

Is everything alright?

I need to talk to you, Baron.

If it doesn't have to be about that Mr. Hitler and the German East.

Space to the east is the crucial existential problem of the German people.

We are a people without space. Adolf Hitler will create this space for us, Baron.

Actually, we don't really have much space. We have too much of it, I think.

What did you want to talk to me about?

I propose introducing the eight-hour day on Poenichen, Baron.

Well, that's beyond my comprehension. Working only eight hours in the middle of July, in the middle of the harvest? And vice versa!

Why should people work eight hours in January when there's deep snow?

Work when there's work to be done!

And Sundays? Do you want people to work on Sundays too?

I decide when it's Sunday on Poenichen, Pahlke.

Do we understand each other?

How old are you now, Maximiliane?

Twelve

Exactly. You have to go to school.

No

That wasn't a question, that was a statement.

The mail from Stager.

Thank you.

Vera wrote.

Something has changed with your mother, Maximiliane.

Her marriage is announced: Dr. Daniel Grün, Vera Grün, widow von Quindt, born von Jadu. Berlin, September 6, 1930.

Am I now also a Grün?

No, you will of course remain a Quint.

May I keep the announcement?

You are, if you like.

I'll put it in the box with Father's things.

I would be very much mistaken if this Dr. Grün weren't Jewish.

She was interested in art, wasn't she?

I think we could send her the silverpoint drawing by Caspar David Friedrich for the wedding.

Or do you know of something more suitable?

Whatever you think is best.

It will probably be the farewell gift anyway. And now I'm not allowed to hear anything from you anymore.

We were talking about school, child.

Won't you listen to reason, Grandfather? You can't just send me away.

Yes, I can.

In fact, I have to.

The school authorities are giving me trouble. You see, we have compulsory education.

And even little princesses have to obey.

And Arnswalde isn't exactly out of the world.

Well, It's out of mine, though.