All language subtitles for Mother Night (Keith Gordon, 1996)-eng

[ Bing Crosby Singing 'White Christmas' ]
♫ "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas..." ♫

♫ "May your days be merry and bright" ♫

♫ "and may all your Christmases be white." ♫

[ CHORUS ]
♫ "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas..." ♫

♫ "Just like the ones I used to know" ♫

♫ "Where the treetops glisten
and children listen" ♫

♫ "To hear sleigh bells in the snow" ♫

♫ "May your days be merry and bright" ♫

♫ ",,, and may all your Christmases be white." ♫

[ DOOR CLOSING ]

[ DOOR OPENING ]

Do you prefer German or English?

- English.

You are to write down your memoirs
for the Haifa Institute

for the documentation of war criminals.

You have three weeks to complete
your memoirs before your trial begins.

Do you have any questions?

No. This is great.
Thanks for everything.

- You are the only man I know who has
a bad conscience about the war.

Who is this?

Bernard Liebman.

I have guard duty
from 2:00 till 10:00.

Oh. I see.

Everyone else on either side

is convinced he couldn't have acted
in any other way.

How do you know I have a bad conscience?

The way you talk in your sleep.

I can tell something is troubling you.

What do you imagine
is troubling me, Bernard Liebman?

All I heard were a couple of names.

"Helga" was one.

"Hoess" was the other one.

I knew Hoess.

He had no trouble sleeping.

Slept like a baby
right up to the end.

Do you know this?

I guess so.

I helped hang him.

- With your testimony?
No.

With my hands.

Did that give you lots of satisfaction?

My job was to strap his ankles.

I did a very good job.

I see.

Afterwards, I packed my bags to go home.

The catch on my suitcase was broken

so I buckled it shut
with a big leather strap.

Twice, within one hour

I did the very same job.

Once to Hoess...

once to my suitcase.

Both jobs felt about the same.

Yeah.

I, Howard W. Campbell, Jr.,
am an American by birth...

a Nazi by reputation...

and a nationless person by inclination.

I am awaiting a fair trial for
my war crimes by the state of Israel.

I was born in Schenectady, New York,
on February 16, 1904.

My father was raised in Tennessee...

the son of a Baptist minister.

He was a service engineer
for General Electric.

Because of his work

most of his reading consisted
of trade journals and technical books.

There were a few notable exceptions.

Howard!

In 1919, when General Electric
relocated my father

we left Schenectady
and moved to Berlin, Germany.

By 1938

I had become a successful
playwright in the German language

and I had married the young, beautiful

and famous German actress Helga Noth.

When my parents left Germany

they asked me to return
to the United States with them.

I didn't.

"My dear, sweet Eva...

this is the only way

I know how to make good

the frightful wrong
which has befallen us.

It does not matter
what lies ahead

for I have
a full life behind me

all in those few,
sweet hours with you.

I once told you
that I would pledge my life

for our nation of two

and reside there,

even in death,

as surely as I reside in heaven

when your arms are around me.

Soon it will be time
to keep that pledge

and I rejoice to think

that earthly distractions
will no longer intrude

on my eternal devotion to you.

From this moment forward

our nation of two

is the only country

I will know."

As the insanity of the world
descended on us

my Helga and I survived
by pledging our undying loyalty

to the only nation
that made any sense to us.

It was called
das Reich der Zwei...

"the nation of two."

[ Hitler Speaking On Radio ]

[ Crowd Cheering On Radio ]

It was only one month after my
parents returned to the United States...

three years before America
would enter the war...

when I first met
my blue fairy godmother.

I call him 'my blue fairy godmother'
because no one believes he existed but me.

But he really does exist,
or at least he did,

on that Sunday afternoon
so long ago in Berlin.

Nice-lookin' men.

- I suppose.

Do you speak English?
- Yes.

Thank God.

I've been goin' crazy
tryin' to find someone to talk to.

Pardon me?

I'm sorry. You mind if I come over there
so we don't have to holler?

As you please.

"As you please." That sounds like
somethin' an Englishman would say.

You English, are ya?
- No, I'm American.

That a fact?

Any of my beeswax
what you do for a living?

Writer.
- No kiddin'!

Well, there's a coincidence,
'cause I was just sittin' over there

wishin' I could write

'cause I thought up one hell of a story.

There's this American, see?

And he's been livin' in Germany so long
he's practically a German himself.

He writes plays in German, he's married
to a beautiful German actress.

He knows a lot of big-shot Nazis
who like to hang around theater people.

Who are you?

Oh, wait a minute.
This gets better.

So this fella knows there's a war comin'.

He figures America's gonna be on one side,
Germany's gonna be on the other.

So this American, who's been nothin'
but polite to the Nazis up to now,

decides to pretend he's a Nazi himself

and he stays on in Germany
once the war comes

and gets to be
a very useful American spy.

I asked, "Who are you?"

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I got so carried away I just...

There you go.
That's me.

So, Mr. Campbell,
what'd you think of my little story?

What did I think of it?
Oh, I don't think much of it.

I mean, it's highly implausible.
It's ridiculous.

Oh, that's okay, 'cause...

today isn't when you give me
your final answer, anyway.

Final answer?

If you imagine that I'm gonna go home
and think this over, you're mistaken.

I'm gonna sleep like a log.

I'm not a political man.
I'm just not.

I'm an artist.

If a war comes, it's just gonna
have to get along without me.

Well, I wish ya
all the luck in the world, Howard.

The worse this Nazi thing gets...

the less anyone's
gonna sleep like a log.

Well, I don't know.
Maybe. We'll see.

That's right. We'll see.

That's why I don't expect
your final answer today.

If you go through with this,
it'll be strictly on your own...

working your way up with the Nazis
as high as you can go.

To do this right, you'll have to
commit nothing less than high treason.

Even if you do live through the war
without being caught

your government will never
acknowledge your role as an agent.

We couldn't afford the security breach.

You come lookin' for a pardon

they'll deny they ever heard of you.

You'd be left hung out to dry.

You make it sound so attractive.

Oh, I have a feeling I've made it
sound very attractive to you, Howard.

I've seen your plays.
- Really?

- And what did you learn from them?

You're obsessed with the notion
of pure hearts and heroism.

You love good,
and you hate evil...

and you'd sacrifice anything
in the name of romance.

I'll be in touch.

It was every playwright's
secret dream...

to create the most
challenging role I could imagine

and then play the part myself.

Cue theme music.

[ ♫ Star Spangled Banner Playing ♫ ]

"Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen.

This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American...

speaking to you from Berlin, Germany,
the heart of the free world.

There is a fine article
in the current Reader's Digest

entitled
'There Are No Atheists in Foxholes.'

Well, today I would like
to expand on this theme a little

and tell you that even though
this is a war inspired by the Jews...

a war that only
the Jews can profit from...

you will find there are
no Jews in foxholes either.

Every G.I. Joe knows..."

Every Sunday afternoon,
wherever my voice could be heard,

people stopped whatever they were
doing just to hear what I'd say next.

Even Berlin's chief of police
and his family were devoted listeners,

and not just because
they were my in-laws.

"Now, to the American folks at home.

I want you to think of all the Jews
living in your neighborhood."

It took me only a couple of hours
to write each speech,

after which I'd hand it over to
the propaganda ministry for their notes.

Among those who examined it
was another Allied agent

whose identity never was revealed to me.

"Do they have more or less gasoline?"

My speech would be returned
with all sorts of notations

including those left
by my fellow spy.

"To these questions..."

These markings would dictate
certain vocal mannerisms...

pauses, emphases...

coughs, stumbles, throat-clearings.

"Now let me ask you this:

Do you know of
a single Jewish family

that has ever received
a telegram from Washington

that begins...

'The secretary of war
expresses his deep regret

that your son was killed
in defense of his country'?

Of course not.

No Jewish family would ever
receive such a telegram

thanks to a personal guarantee
from the American dictator

Franklin Delano Rosenfeld."

It was in this manner that I broadcast
coded information out of Germany.

I don't know to this day
what information went out through me.

"Why do you take arms
against your German brothers?

You know that Germany's objectives
are the same as your own.

You must understand that the Jews

can only thrive in a nation
which lives in slavery.

So, my brothers,

lay down your arms.

By fighting this war, you'll
only fortify the bank accounts

of your political leaders
who blindly serve their Jewish masters.

This has been
Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

Thank you for listening.
Heil Hitler."

[ ♫ Star Spangled Banner Playing ♫ ]

- You are a murderer.

You are a coward.

You are all cowards!

You are murdering children!

You should rot in hell!

Damn you!

- Howard just instinctively understands

the German ideal of right and wrong...

the certain triumph of good over evil...

and the redemptive power of romance.

Just promise me one thing:

That you will not leave
the propaganda ministry

and return to playwrighting full-time.

- Little chance of that, Herr Goebbels.

I've always found it ironic
that the man

who so eloquently communicates
our ideals to the masses

should be born in America.

Well, it's not so ironic.

I have long considered myself a
spiritual native of my adopted fatherland.

Something i've always wondered,
Herr Campbell:

Do you ever miss America?

Sometimes. Of course I do.

But I could never be happy
with the Jews in charge of everything.

- Jews. The Jews will be
taken care of in due time.

Our friend Hoess here is seeing to it
at a resort he's running in Auschwitz.

- My wife and I live for that day.

Is there a chance we
might meet Mrs. Campbell?

Yes. Of course, Herr Hoess.

I'll ask Helga to join us,
if you'll excuse me.

[ Goebbels: ] If that woman walked off a cliff,
I swear, Howard would follow her.

Time passed.

I never told my Helga I was a spy.

To tell her would only
put her in danger

and make her live in constant fear.

So I hid my true self from her,

knowing that politics had
no place in our nation of two.

I suppose the moral here is:

You must be careful
what you pretend to be

because in the end
you are what you pretend to be.

[ AIR RAID SIRENS ]

[ BOMBS EXPLODING ]

History says the war ended in 1945.

In fact, it ended one year earlier.

My nation of two was the loser...

insanity the victor.

There were no prisoners...

no survivors.

Why would the Germans
want to kill my Helga?

- Sir...

It says enemy guns.

The Russians.

It was Russian fire.

Russian... Oh.

- It was tragic timing, sir.

The Russians fired on the Crimean camp

where she was entertaining troops.

Reich Marshal Goering will issue
an official commendation

for Mrs. Campbell's bravery.

I am sure she would be very proud.

Yes. Yes, of course.

- Is there anything I can do for you,
Herr Campbell?

Please.

"Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen.

This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American

speaking to you from Berlin, Germany,

the heart of the free world.

As you know, the Bolshevik hordes

continue their barbaric
advance towards Berlin.

Let the Jewish leaders who are
exalted by our temporary setbacks

be warned that National Socialism
will never allow Germany

to fall under the heels
of the black beast

who terrorizes our women and children.

[ COUGHS ]

As for my American brothers,

you are fools
if you believe your dictator,

Franklin Delano Rosenfeld,
is concerned with your welfare.

[ CLEARS THROAT ]

If you fail to heed
the warning of your Aryan brothers

the fate that awaits you
is the fate you deserve.

German victory is certain,
for it is a moral victory.

The final blow will be
struck by Adolf Hitler.

This has been Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

You may not hear from me
for a while.

Thank you for listening.
Heil Hitler."

Howard.
- Herr Noth.

Interesting time to visit your in-laws.

If you wish to stay a while,
perhaps you can help me

greet the Russians when they arrive.

I'm going to the front.

Right over that way.

An easy walk from here.
You can make it in a day...

picking buttercups as you go.

May I ask where you're moving to?

I'm staying here.

My wife is at my brother's home in Cologne.
Resi will join her today.

But why stay here?
- With the Russian army at my doorstep?

I'm still the chief of police.

I'll not have my people say that
I fled with my tail between my legs.

Is there anything I can do?

Yes.
You can shoot Resi's dog.

It can't make the trip,
and I can't take care of it here,

so you can shoot it.

Where is it?
- In the music room with Resi.

She knows it's to be shot.
You'll have no trouble with her.

All right.

You broke my heart
when you married my daughter.

I wanted a German soldier
for a son-in-law.

- Yes. I know.

Because I hated you so much,
I studied you.

I listened to everything you said.

Never missed a broadcast.

Did you know that
until this very moment

nothing would have delighted me more

than to prove you were a spy...

to see you shot?

Now I couldn't care less
if you are a spy.

Do you know why?
- No.

Because now I know
that even if you were a spy

you could never have served the enemy
as well as you served us.

All the ideals that make me
proud of being a Nazi...

they came not from Hitler...

not from Goebbels...

but from you.

You alone kept me from concluding
that Germany had gone insane.

[ FOOTSTEPS ]

- Resi!
Now, look how you've grown.

You are here to kill my dog,

aren't you?

- Yes.

But, Resi, it's not something
I want to do very much.

That's all right.

I never liked it anyway.

I just felt sorry for it.

I'm going to the front.
I just came to say good-bye.

Which front?

The Russian.

You'll die, then?

Well, maybe not.

Everybody who isn't dead now
will be dead soon...

including me.

No. No, no, no, Resi.
I'm sure you're going to be fine.

That's all right.
It won't hurt.

Suddenly I just won't be anymore.

Since we'll all be dead soon,
I might as well tell you something.

What is it?

I love you.

Oh, Resi, that's very sweet.

No. I mean I really love you.

When Helga was alive
and you two would come here

sometimes I envied her,
and sometimes I hated her.

When she died, I dreamt that
I would grow up and marry you

and be a famous actress,
and you'd write plays for me.

I see.

[ SIGHS ]

Resi...

I'm very honored.

That's all right.
It doesn't mean anything now.

Nothing means anything.

Go ahead and shoot the dog.

Resi was only half right.

From what I could gather,
she was dead before long...

but I went on living.

Had I actually traveled
to the Russian front,

surely I would have died
as Resi predicted.

Instead, I motorcycled around
the German countryside...

thinking I could simply
wait out the war.

My little respite ended two months later

when I was captured by Lieutenant
Bernard B. O'Hare, American 3rd Army.

I had said "good morning"
to him in passing

and he recognized my voice
from the radio broadcasts.

O'Hare seemed to take all
those things I said rather personally.

After my capture,
the American army escorted me

on a private tour
of the Nazi death camp at Oerdre.

They thought it would be
interesting to see my reaction

to the fruits of my labor.

Take a good look
at your Kraut friends, Campbell...

'cause you're next.

[ FIGHTER AIRCRAFT PASSES ]

To me, they looked quite peaceful.

Two days later I was driven away
by two American soldiers.

I couldn't quite tell
if they knew who I was.

[ GRUNTS ]

- Well, Howard...

what did you think of that war?

Is that you, Wirtanen?

I got to hand it to you...
you lived through it.

A lot of people didn't, you know.
- Yes.

Yes, I know.

I know. My wife.
My wife, for instance.

Yeah. Sorry about that. I found out
about that a few days before you did.

You found out about it before me?
How did you find that out?

That was one of the pieces
of information you broadcast that week.

I broadcast that...

that my wife had died?

I didn't even know it?
You knew she was dead and I didn't?

I would have liked to have mourned.

Well, what happens to me now?

You've already disappeared.

The 3rd Army's been relieved of you.

There's no records to show
that you were ever captured.

So, Howard,
where do you want to go from here?

Oh, I don't know.

I don't suppose there's a hero's
welcome waiting for me anywhere.

Hardly.

We can't exactly start bragging
about all the clever tricks we pulled.

We might need them again
for the next war.

No, your role will remain classified

and Uncle Sam's official position is
that you're the scum of the earth.

Scum of the earth, huh?

What about my parents?

I'm sorry, Howard.
They both died about six months ago.

Both?

Father first, and your mother
two days later. Heart both times.

Did anyone tell them
what I was really doing?

Come on, Howard.
What were we supposed to do?

Sacrifice our radio station
in the heart of Berlin

for the peace of mind
of two old people?

Oh, no, no. We wouldn't want that!
How many people did know what I was doing?

There were three of us.
- Just three?

That's plenty. It's probably too many.
- Three people knew me for what I really was?

Everyone else knew you
for what you were, too.

Wait. How can you say that?
You think I'm a Nazi? I wasn't a Nazi.

Well, let me ask you something, Howard:

What would you have done
if Germany had won the war?

Marched right up to your pal
Goebbels and surrendered?

Told him you were actually
a patriotic American spy?

Yes, I might have marched right in there!
I might have escaped! I don't know!

Oh, all right!
You want me to be a Nazi?

You go ahead!
Classify me as a Nazi!

You want to hang me?
Go ahead if you think it'll raise morale!

I don't consider this life
any great treasure.

Well, I just want you to know
how little we can really do for you.

- How little?

False identity, some cash,
transportation to a new place...

Anywhere you'd like to go, Howard?
How 'bout New York?

You can lose yourself pretty easily there.
Plenty of work if you want it.

All right.
New York then.

Of the three that knew I was a spy,
who were the other two?

The second was General Donovan of the O.S.S.

and the third,
I'm sorry to say, is dead.

You used to attack him
every night on your broadcast.

You called him
Franklin Delano Rosenfeld.

He got a big kick out of that.
He used to listen to you every night.

At first I lived under a false name.

The idea was to start from scratch,
lead a new life.

After a while, though, it became clear
that I really had no life...

so the alias became unnecessary

and I went back
to using my own name.

No one ever asked whether I was
the Howard W. Campbell, Jr.

All of my belongings,
like myself, were war surplus,

coming from recreation kits
intended for troops overseas.

They even included phonograph records,

so I became the proud owner of 26 copies
of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas."

"Property of U.S. Gov't"

I survived my purgatory in New York

the same way I survived
the hell of wartime Germany...

I let my emotions be stirred
by only one thing...

my love for Helga.

It remained the permanent axis
about which my thoughts revolved.

To you, my love...

to your beauty
and to my undying devotion.

To das Reich der Zwei...

nation of two.

It's very nice, isn't it?

It's very dry.

Just the way you like it, hmm?

Yes.

[ ♫ 'White Christmas' Playing ♫ ]

Dr. Epstein?
- Yes.

I'm your neighbor from upstairs.

I've cut myself.

Well, you won't need stitches.

The blood often makes these things
look worse than they really are.

Well, thank you, Doctor.
I'm very grateful.

No problem.

I'm only sorry it took this
to provide an introduction.

Yes, yes.
No, you're right.

That's a very famous name you have.

Pardon me?

You never heard of Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

broadcasting from Berlin?

- From Berlin...

Yes, I do remember now.

It was a long time ago.

I never listened to him,
but I remember he was in the news.

Those things fade.

Those things should fade.

That insane moment in history
should be forgotten.

You know of Auschwitz?

Yes, yes, of course I know of Auschwitz.

That is where I spent my young womanhood

and my son the doctor here...

he spent his childhood.

Oh, well, I'm sorry.
- Forget Auschwitz.

It doesn't do any good.

There.

No need for amputation.

Just keep it dry for a few days.
- Well, thank you.

No problem.
I'll see you out.

- Sprachen Sie Deutsch?

What? Pardon me?

I asked if you spoke German.

- Oh. No, no, no.
I'm afraid not.

Ah... Auf Wiedersehen.

Good-bye.
That's "good-bye," isn't it?

It's "till we meet again."

- Oh. Till we meet again.

- Well, auf Wiedersehen.

Yes, auf Wiedersehen.

[ SOUND OF TYPING ]

- Campbell?

Yes?

Campbell, it's Adolph Eichmann.

I'm in the cell above you.

Yes, Eichmann. Hello.

You're always typing in there...

day and night
and night and day...

typing, typing, typing...

Is it bothering you?

No. I'm a heavy sleeper.

I'm only curious.
Are you preparing your memoirs?

Yes. A command performance
for the Haifa Institute.

Ah... You're a lucky man.

I'm lucky?

How do you consider me lucky?

You can type.
I'm writing mine longhand.

One day I got the idea that a hobby
might help pass the time in purgatory.

Ironically...

in my solitude I had created something

that could only be used in concert
with another human being.

- Yeah.

George Kraft?

- Who is it?

I'm Howard Campbell,
your neighbor from upstairs.

- What do you want?

I want to know if you play chess.

I didn't know I had
a painter living under me.

Where do you show your work?

I don't show my work.

Well, you should.

You been painting all your life?

No, not really.

My wife died four years ago...

and I had the choice of either

coming to Greenwich Village and becoming
a painter or blowing my brains out...

so I flipped a coin, and here I am.

At least you had painting
you could turn to.

- What does that mean?
You-- You lost your wife, too?

Yeah. I see you in the hallway
and I say, "yes...

this man too
is a member of the brotherhood."

The brotherhood?
- Brotherhood of the walking wounded.

World's largest organization, and you
don't know it exists until you're in it.

You get your membership card when you lose
the one thing that gives life any meaning.

And the thing that bonds you together,
the thing that holds the group in one piece,

is the fact that the members
are absolutely incapable

of speaking to one another.

Sorry.
I don't mean to rattle on.

How'd you lose your wife?

I can't speak about it.

Well, of course you can't speak about it.

You're a member of the brotherhood.

[ LAUGHTER ]

The day came that I told him everything.

It all spilled out of me...

You know, I knew the war was over,
and Germany was going to lose...

and here I was an American spy.

My parents, my boyhood in Germany...

about Helga and our nation of two...

my blue fairy godmother,
the speeches, the codes...

my capture and my banishment to purgatory.

I didn't have anything to live for.
I lost my wife, I lost my nation of two.

George Kraft, my only living friend,
took it all in stride.

Yeah, but why doesn't the government
come forward and say,

"This man you're spitting on is a hero"?

George, nobody spits on me.

Nobody even knows I'm alive.

Life continued unchanged...

for a while.

"Howard W. Campbell, Jr., a great writer
and fearless American patriot,

now lives in poverty and in loneliness
in a one-bedroom apartment

at 61 Bethune Street in New York City.

Such is the fate of thinking men
brave enough to tell the truth

about the conspiracy of international
Jewish bankers and communists

who will not rest until the body of every
American is hopelessly polluted

with Negro and/or Oriental blood."

- Maybe it was that lady downstairs...
Epstein's mother.

Why wouldn't she just call the authorities?

Why would she send my address
to some racist newsletter?

Why don't you set the record straight?
It's time you started writing again anyway.

I'm afraid dead men don't write very well.

That's not true.
All the best writers are dead.

- That's the most truthful thing
you've said today.

No, listen to me.
It's because while you're dead

you have nothing to lose,
you can be completely courageous.

Find yourself a woman,
start writing again.

- A woman?
A woman!

George, you better stop drinking.
My portrait's gonna look like a Picasso.

- Don't change the subject.
I'm not changing the subject.

- Sit up.
I am sitting up.

All right, I tell you what.
You get a woman, then I'll get one.

- I don't need a woman.
I'm on fire for my muse.

You, however...
you're a mortal.

You need a woman.

I already got one.
- No, you don't.

Yes, I do.
- Had a woman.

- Past tense. She's dead.
I don't wanna talk about this.

I'm only telling you what you need to hear.

If you're gonna speak the truth...
- Oh, God, did I hit a nerve?

No, you didn't hit a nerve. I'm fine.
- I am so sorry.

No, don't be sorry.
No, don't be humble, George.

I'm fine.
- Abject.

No, you're not abject.

Go ahead, talk. I can't hear you.
- God, I just...

I just shoot my mouth off,
and I...

I don't know...
- I'm gonna...

[ VOICES ON STAIRS ]
One, two, three, rest.

One, two, three, four...

One, two, three, rest.
One, two, three, four...

[ KNOCKING ON DOOR ]

Who is it?
- Howard W. Campbell, Jr.?

Who is it?

It's the Reverend Dr. Lionel Jones...

D.D.S., D.D.

I presume you received
our complimentary issue

of the White Christian Minuteman.

It's all right, Howard.
I'm with friends.

Howard W. Campbell.

What an honor.

I feel as if my whole life
was leading up to this moment.

How do you do?

Please, allow me to
introduce you to my bodyguard

August Krapptauer.

Vice Bundesfuehrer Emeritus
at the German-American Bund.

A great, great pleasure,
Mr. Campbell.

And my secretary, Father Patrick Keeley,

former chaplain of the Detroit Gun Club.

Words fail me, Herr Campbell.

Likewise, I'm sure.

Could we get some water?
- Yeah, of course, of course.

The climb up your stairs was
quite an effort for our Mr. Krapptauer.

Might we bother you
for a glass of water?

All right. Come on in.

This is my good friend
and neighbor, George Kraft.

How do you do?

Yours?
- Yes.

What a marvelous likeness
of our Mr. Campbell.

You've done a masterful job
capturing the jaw line.

Have you a background in dentistry?

Dentistry? No.

Well, as one who's devoted his life
to dental medicine

allow me to say that you have
perfectly duplicated

Mr. Campbell's Aryan jaw line.

Oh, I'm thrilled that you noticed.
- How could I miss it?

Are you familiar with my book,
Christ Was Not a Jew?

I could never find a copy.

Oh, that's too bad.

Father Keeley, make a note
that we must send Mr. Kraft

an autographed copy.

In it, I reproduce
50 famous paintings of Christ

and point out that not one of them
shows Jewish jaws or teeth.

I don't know what to say.
- Well...

I had to publish the book myself.

But what can you expect when
the publishing industry is run by Jews?

Oh, of course, forgive me.

I've been talking so much,
I almost forgot what brought us here.

What does bring you here, Jones?

A surprise for you, Mr. Campbell,
waiting downstairs.

Why don't you just tell me
what this is about?

Forgive me, Mr. Campbell,

but I have promised
not to spoil the surprise.

Now, I give my word,
if you're displeased

we'll take it away with us
and leave you in peace.

Where is it?
- At the bottom of the stairwell.

You can't miss it.

All right.

Want me to go with you?
- No.

I'll be right back.

Helga...

If there is no room in your life for me,

I will say good-bye...

and I will never bother you again.

Helga...

No room in my life?

My life is nothing but room for you.

God, you're alive!
How can it be?

Oh, look at you.
You haven't changed.

- I have so much to tell.
Yes.

I always knew you'd come back.
I always knew that.

I just didn't know when or how.

There's somebody I want you to meet.
I want you to meet George Kraft.

George... George, this is Helga.
- Hello. Welcome.

I presume you weren't disappointed.

How did you do this?
How did you bring my wife back to me?

A subscriber in West Germany wired me

that Mrs. Campbell had
just arrived as a refugee.

One day I learn that you're alive,

a month later that your wife is alive.

Now, what can I call a coincident
like that but the hand of God?

Why don't we let Mr. And Mrs. Campbell
have a few minutes alone now?

Yes, of course. Our chauffeur will
bring up Mrs. Campbell's bags.

No need, no need.

- You fool, what are you doing?
I'm fine, perfectly fine.

You're risking your life,
exerting yourself like that.

It's an honor to risk my life
for a man who served Adolph Hitler

as well as Howard W. Campbell, Jr.
Oooh!...

He's gone.

Maybe I should call an ambulance.
Yes.

That's terrible, just terrible.

- Poor, dear August.

- Who's going to carry the torch now?

Excuse me?
Everything all right up here?

No, as a matter of fact.
August just died!

Oh, no. That's a shame...

Now, that's a real shame.
- Mr. Campbell...

Robert Sterling Wilson,
the black fuehrer of Harlem.

Howard Campbell... I heard about you,
but I never listened to you.

That's all right.
- We was on different sides.

I was on the side with the colored folks.
I was with the Japanese.

I hear you say you didn't think
colored folks was so good.

Now, now, Robert, let's not
squabble amongst ourselves.

Let's all work to pull together.

- Now I'm just telling him like I
tell you and the reverend every morning.

Colored people gonna have
a hydrogen bomb all their own...

and pretty soon they gonna give Japan
the honor of dropping the first one.

Where?

China, I guess.

On other colored people?

Now whoever told you a Chinaman was colored?

[ AMBULANCE SIREN ]

Mutter, Vatter und Resi...

are all dead.

Yeah. Yes, I know.

But I... I am alive.

Helga... How?

Well, I...

No, no. It's all right.
It doesn't matter.

Our life starts tonight.

We'll check into a hotel.

Tomorrow we'll find a new place to live.

I've found an old store
that has our bed in it.

Do you remember our old bed?

Yeah?
- Ja.

We'll start again
right where we left off.

Nation of two.

Das...?
- Das Reich der Zwei.

Yeah.

But...

we do not have to check in to a hotel.

Helga... It's been so long.

I'm no longer a young man.

She had been captured and raped
in the Crimea...

and then shipped to the Ukraine
and put to work on a labor gang.

Nobody told her the war was over.

After her repatriation, she was sent
to Dresden, East Germany...

and put to work in a cigarette factory.

Eventually, she escaped to West Berlin

and days later,
she was flying back to my embrace.

All that mattered now was that
our nation of two was whole again.

Hello.
- Hello.

Welcome home.

Now here...
Here it is right here.

Excuse us...
Here.

Helga, right here.
Here's the bed.

It's locked. Veterans Day.
It's Veterans Day. Damn it.

Oh, goddamn it!

Howard, you have changed.

Forgive me, I'm sorry.

Yes, I've changed, but people should
be changed by world wars.

Otherwise, what are world wars for?

Maybe you have changed so much
that you do not love me anymore.

No, no, Helga.
How could you say that after last night, huh?

We really have not talked anything over.

But, Helga, what was there to talk about?

No words could change the way I feel.

Do you mean it?

Yes, of course I mean it.

Nothing I could say could spoil it.

No, Helga... No.
Nothing you could ever say could spoil it.

Never, never.

I'm not Helga.

I'm Resi...

her little sister.

What?

You said you loved me.

How could you do this to me?
- I love you.

You love me? How could you love me?
You don't even know who I am.

When I got to West Berlin

they gave me papers to fill out...

name, occupation, nearest living relative.

I had a choice.
I could stay Resi Noth...

cigarette machine operator
with no family anywhere...

or I could be Helga Noth...

famous actress and wife
of a brilliant, handsome playwright...

living in America!

A man I love deeply.

Who should I have been?

Howard, for ten years in that factory

the only things that kept me alive
were daydreams of being my sister Helga.

So Resi disappeared.

I don't know what to say.

You picked a hell of a person to be.

That is who I am.

I am Helga.

You believed it.

Was I or was I not Helga
to you last night?

That's a hell of a question
to ask a gentleman.

Am I entitled to an answer?

Howard...

Would you sometime write a play for me?

I don't think I can write anymore.

Did Helga inspire you to write?

Not to write,
but to write the way I wrote.

We used to say that
I wrote parts for her

that let her play
the quintessence of Helga.

I want you to do that
for me one day.

The q...

The quintes...
- Quintessence.

The quintessence of Resi.

Maybe I will.

Resi was growing younger by the second.

Although she had bleached her hair white
to appear older,

it now spoke to me of peroxide

and girls who run away to Hollywood.

Finally, I have a home.

"It takes a heap of living
to make a house a home."

Who did that?
- Who did what?

That.

- Howard Campbell?

You know him?

No... No.

It's funny...
You look just like him.

Don't that look
like the gentleman you're with?

Let me see.

[ SOUND OF HEAVY PUNCH ]

Before the Jews put you in the zoo,
I'm gonna have a little fun with you myself.

Hey, you felt that one, huh?
That was for Private Irvin Buchanan.

Is that you?
- No, he was my best friend.

Five miles in from Omaha Beach,
the Germans, they cut his nuts off

and they hung him from a telephone pole.

And this... this is for Axel Brewer.

He got run over
by a tiger tank in Aachen.

This is for Eddie McCarty.
- Please!

He got cut in half by a schmeizer.

And this... this is for...

- Helga...

Do not speak, liebling.

- Where are we?
We are safe.

You have been asleep.
But, they will not find us here.

- Who won't find us here?
The Jews, sweetheart.

What's on my chest?

- You had your ribs taped up.

By whom?

The doctor who lives in your building.

- Oh, Epstein.
Ja, that was him. He was very nice.

I used his phone to call Dr. Jones,
and he brought us here.

How nice to have friends.

[ KNOCKING ON DOOR ]

- Ja, come in.

- How's he doing?
- He just has woken up.

How's your head?

- Splitting.

You ought to take an aspirin.
- Thanks for the advice.

You see, most things in this world
don't work, but aspirin do.

Resi, the newspapers...

Is it true the Israelis
want to put me on trial?

- Dr. Jones says the American government
will not let you go...

but the Jews will send men
to kidnap you...

like they did Herr Eichmann.

- It ain't like having a Jew here,
a Jew there, after you.

They got everything after you
but the Jewish hydrogen bomb, ha ha ha.

[ GUNSHOT ]

What the hell is that?

[ GUNSHOT ]

That was your friend.

[ GUNSHOT ]

- Jones?
No, George Kraft.

[ GUNSHOT ]

What's George doing here?

He is coming with us.
We are all leaving the country.

Dr. Jones has made the arrangements.

[ GUNSHOTS ]

Howard! Look who's up and around.
How do you feel?

I'd stand a better chance if it weren't
for the racket you're making.

Sorry, just killing a little time.
God, you scared me half to death, Howard!

I was worried sick about you.

You know, it was bound to happen
sooner or later.

Well, it's all for the best.
You'll see.

You'll have a new identity,
get a new place, new country...

be able to start writing again.

I might even be a better painter in Mexico.

- Mexico?
Well, look who's back on his feet.

Well, I guess you can't keep
a good man down.

- That's the spirit.
Howard...

Wednesday night is the weekly meeting

of the Iron Guard of the White Sons
of the American Constitution.

Father Keeley and I want to stage a
memorial service for August Krapptauer.

We thought that perhaps you,
being Krapptauer's mentor,

might say a few words.

I've thought of a general theme,
if that helps.

I'm sure I could use one.

I think the theme should be...

"His Truth Goes Marching On."

Hmmm...

... hmmm...

What could I possibly say
to a bunch of junior storm troopers?

You know I knew their fearless leader
for all of 20 seconds

before he dropped dead
on my stairway.

[ LAUGHING ]

You'll find the right words.

You always do.

When we get to Mexico

I'm going to write again.

Did I have something to do
with this miracle?

Mm-hmm, everything.
- No...

Very little... but some!

Yes!

The real miracle

is the talent you were born with.

No, no. The real miracle
is your ability to raise the dead.

The love does that.
- Yes, yes.

It raised me too.

Today, the mayor
admitted his embarrassment

that a notorious war criminal
had been living an anonymous life

in New York for at least some of that time.

He also noted that neither he
nor the United States government

have any authority to hand Campbell over
to the Israeli government for trial.

However, it all may be a moot point.

Howard W. Campbell has, once again,
escaped without a trace.

This is Campbell's last known residence.

The modest apartment in
Greenwich Village has been vandalized

by locals angered by Campbell's
latest escape from justice.

The United States government
has promised to make a full review

of Campbell's citizenship status

and to find out why he was never
brought to trial previously.

In the meantime, Israel has stepped up
its demands for Campbell,

encouraged by the idea that
he may not be a citizen of the U.S...

that he may, in fact,
be a citizen of nowhere at all.

We must never forget that
a propagandist of Campbell's sort

is every bit as much of a mass murderer
as Eichmann, Himmler and even Hitler.

How many millions of people
lost their lives

because of the lies
he spread during the war?

We will find Campbell,
just as we found Eichmann.

A man can't hide forever
when his hands are covered

with the blood
of six million human beings.

- Howard W. Campbell, Jr

wanted to be here tonight

to tell you of his long and fulfilling
association with your fallen hero.

But he's asked me to make this
brief statement to you

on his behalf.

"The truth of your leader,
August Krapptauer, and those like him...

will be with mankind forever

as long as there are men and women
who listen to their guts

instead of their minds."

And now for a special treat.

A subscriber to the
White Christian Minuteman in Vermont

has made us a loan
of some very rare material

which I'm sure you'll find most inspiring.

Robert?

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

Tonight, I would like to
ask a common question:

Why are we the enemies of the Jew?

The answer is simple.

The Jew is the cause
and the beneficiary of our slavery.

He has made two halves
of the fatherland.

The Jew has no interest in
the solution of Germany's problems.

He can't.
He wants them to remain unsolved.

You see, he has a better trump in
his hand when a nation lives in slavery

than one that is free.

The Jew is the cause of our misery

and today he lives on our trust.

And that is why, as National Socialists,

we are enemies of the Jew.

He has ruined our race,
rotted our morals,

corrupted our traditions
and broken our power.

As long as we are true
to our Aryan heritage

he is a leper among us.

If we ignore our destiny,
he will triumph over us and our future.

The Jew is the plastic demon
of the fall of mankind.

He thrives in filth and garbage,
he spreads disease.

He steals our possessions
and lusts after our women.

He pretends to be
a friend of his victim

and before the unfortunate one knows it,
his neck is broken.

We are Jew-haters
because we are proud to be Aryans.

It isn't true that we eat a Jew
with every breakfast.

But it is true that the Jew
is slowly eating away at our future.

That is going to change
as surely as we are Aryans...

as surely as world supremacy

is the birthright of the Aryan race.

This has been Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

the last free American.

Thank you for listening.

Heil Hitler.

I gotta admit, Howard, act three
had me on the edge of my seat.

My blue fairy godmother.

I was beginning to wonder
if you really existed.

I exist all right.
I'm just retired. Eight years now.

Imagine my surprise when they called me
out of retirement two months ago.

For me?
- Yeah.

Why all this sudden interest in me?
- That's what I'm supposed to find out.

Well, you know, it's no mystery
why the Israelis would want me.

- No, the mystery is why the Russians
should think you're such a fat prize.

The Russians?
What Russians?

Well, at least two in this country.

One is your friend,
Colonel Iona Potipov.

Potipov? No, no...
- I'm sorry, you know him as George Kraft.

He's been operating in the U.S.
as a Russian spy since '35.

George Kraft's not a spy.

I mean, George told me about his wife.
- His wife?

- In Indianapolis who died four years ago?
No such person.

He's got a wife, all right,
still living in Proscurov.

He just hasn't seen her for 25 years.

I don't imagine he's mentioned the three
children or nine grandchildren.

Kraft, he was...
- Potipov.

Whatever. He was living
in the building for three years.

I mean, he didn't introduce himself to me.

I went downstairs.
I introduced myself to him!

From what I can tell, you weren't part
of his original agenda.

Just sort of an unexpected perk.

Everything was nice and quiet
until he sent an anonymous letter

to your protege, Dr. Jones,
telling him where you were.

Then the excrement
really hit the air-conditioning.

It was Kraft?

If it makes you feel any better,
he really is a painter.

I don't think much of his work,
but what do I know about art?

Maybe it's okay. Maybe that's
the one thing you can't fake.

Maybe you're the exception to that too.

What was Kraft's plan for me?

Well, when he tipped off Jones...

he knew you'd become news again.

He figured he could get you out of the
country easier and stay by your side.

Then you could be kidnapped
with fewer international complications.

I see. I see.

Well...

you said there was two Russian spies.

Who's the other-- Jones?

Nah, Jones is the one true friend you got.

Seems he's the only one
with your best interest at heart.

Well, and who's the other?

No, not Resi.

No, goddamn you!
Not Resi!

Goddamn you!!! Not Resi!!!

Relax, Howard,
I'm only the messenger.

You're a goddamn liar.

- I'm sure she had you thinking about your
new life and how nice it was gonna be...

but it wouldn't have gone that way.

When you got to the airport in Mexico City,
there'd be a second plane waitng for you

and off you'd go on a one-way trip
to Moscow, all expenses paid.

What could the Russians possibly want

with such a burned-out piece
of World War II surplus?

They can exhibit you as a prime example

of the fascist war criminals
that this country shelters.

They also hope you'll confess
to all sorts of collusion

between the Nazis and the Americans
before and after the war.

[ Eichmann: ]
Yes... I think that's a record.

Eichmann...

You've been typing
for almost 15 hours straight.

Me, I've barely written
five pages in as many days.

When do you eat?

I don't know.

I hear your trial starts
in a couple of days.

Where is your lawyer?

He's trying to find the one person
who will corroborate my defense.

So far I'm told he doesn't exist.

Listen, Campbell,
can I give you some advice?

Certainly.

Spend some time in the exercise yard...

or have them bring in a radio or television.

You've got to learn to relax.

It is important to learn how to relax.

[ DEEP LAUGHING ]

That's how I got here!

[ LAUGHING CONTINUES ]

Hey, Eichmann, can I
ask you a personal question?

Certainly.

Do you believe you're guilty
of murdering six million Jews?

Absolutely not.

Oh, you were simply a soldier, were you?

Taking orders from the higher-ups,
is that right, Eichmann...

like any good soldier?

[ CAMPBELL LAUGHING }

Campbell?
- Yes.

About those six million...
- Yes?

I don't need credit for all of them.

I'm sure I could spare you a few.

Howard! Where were you?
- We were worried about you, old boy.

You are cold.
- I just stepped outside for some air.

Well, that was a bit of a risk, wasn't it?
- Yeah, it was a bit of a risk

but you know what Jones says:
"I'll sacrifice anything for the truth."

This is torture having to stay
in this cramped room

for the fear of our lives.

How can people treat us like this?

Oh, I don't know, Resi.

You know, in spite of everything,

I still believe people
are really good at heart.

You know?
[ CAMPBELL LAUGHS ]

- Tomorrow we will start our new lives,
and then you will be able to relax.

Oh, yes, to relax.

You know, I was thinking...
- What? Tell me.

I was thinking that maybe Mexico
isn't what we want.

We can just go right on from there.

- Maybe right at the Mexico City airport,
we could just get right on another jet.

Onto a...?

I don't know.
We could go to the Caribbean.

We could go to... Moscow maybe, huh?
- Moscow?

That's a novel idea.

- You don't like it?
I would have to think about it.

Oh...

Resi, I want you
to think about it, too, okay?

Yeah, if you want.
- Yeah.

You know, the more I think about it,

you know, the better it sounds!

What can you possibly
find interesting about Moscow?

Well, I don't know.
I'd like to visit an old friend.

You never told me
you had a friend in Moscow.

- Gee, George, I guess it just
never came up in a conversation.

What's his name?

Colonel Iona Potipov.

Don't know him.
- Oh. Don't know him, huh?

It doesn't matter. He's just a spy
that's trying to get me to Mexico City

so I can be kidnapped
and flown to Russia to stand trial.

- No. That is not...

Don't even think about it.

God, Howard, this is ridiculous.

Cowboys and Indians?

Yeah-- All right, George.

Howard, this is not who I am.
This is the way things are.

Nobody should know that
better than you.

Yeah. Yeah.

- Sweetheart.

That dream about Mexico...
it was really true.

Tomorrow we were all going to escape.

It was our mission to take you to Moscow

but then I was not going
to go through with it...

because I love you.

I told you I was not going to
go through with it, did I not?

Yes, you did.
She told me.

And he agreed with me. He came up
with the dream of Mexico

where we would all get
out of this trap together.

How did you find out?
- American agents.

Ah...

- They're going to be raiding our
happy little home any minute now.

Oh, that's unfortunate.

Then we must leave right now, liebling,
while we still can.

- It's too late, darling.
We're already surrounded.

Then we will fight them.
- No, Resi, you don't understand.

I said, we are surrounded.

Does that matter?

- Yes, of course that matters. We...

You mean, why don't I die for love...

like a hero in a Howard W. Campbell play?

Yeah.

Ja, that is exactly what I mean.

Let us die together...
here and now.

No, Resi--
You have a full life ahead of you.

No, I have a full life behind me.

All in those few sweet hours with you.

"All in those few sweet hours with you."

Hmm...

Sounds like a line
I might have written as a young man.

It is a line you wrote
as a young man.

A foolish young man.

I adore that man.

Well, I'm sorry, Resi. I can't
congratulate you on your taste in men.

You no longer...

You no longer believe that love
is the only thing to live for?

Well... No.

Then tell me what to live for.

Tell me anything.
It does not have to be love.

Anything at all!
I will live for that chair...

or that picture on the wall
or that crack over there!

Just tell me!
Tell me what you live for

and I will live for that too!

Resi, what I live for is...

I'm an old man.

I will show you what to live for.

I will show you a woman
who dies for love.

No, Resi.
No, no, my God.

- Don't move a muscle.

The morning after the raid
on Jones's basement

I was released,

thanks, I suppose,
to my blue fairy godmother.

I was deposited
onto the streets of New York,

restored to the mainstream of life.

I took several steps down the sidewalk

when something happened.

It was not guilt that froze me.

I had taught myself
never to feel guilt.

It wasn't the fear of death.

I had taught myself
to think of death as a friend.

It was not the thought
of being unloved that froze me.

I had taught myself
to do without love.

What froze me was the fact
that I had absolutely no reason

to move in any direction.

Are you all right?

Yes.

Been standing there a long time.

You waiting for somebody?

No.

- You lost?

No.

No.

- Better move on then, don't you think?

Yeah.

- Who is it?

It's Howard Campbell.
- What do you want?

Could I come in?

- You're going to have to
tell me what this is about.

I want to go to Israel to stand trial.

What?!

I want to be tried
for my crimes against humanity.

- What do you want from me?

I want to surrender to an Auschwitzer.

Then find one who thinks
of Auschwitz all the time.

[ DR. STEIN AND MOTHER ARGUING ]

- And don't speak Yiddish!
We are in America now!

- If you can't remember,
I will remember for both of us.

- You still want revenge, is that it?
- Yes.

- Then go on with your plan
because it proves nothing.

Mr. Campbell, I think I can help you.

Thank you.

- Campbell?

Auf Wiedersehen.

Yes.
Auf Wiedersehen.

♫ Leichenträger zur Wache ♫
( 'Corpse carriers to the guardhouse' )

"Tomorrow"

"My Trial"

"Begins"

Dear Howard...

The discipline of a lifetime now
collapses like the walls of Jericho.

What is the tune
that Joshua's trumpet plays?

Is that the music of my conscience?
I doubt it. I've done you no wrong.

I think the music must be an old
soldier's itch for just a little treason.

And treason this letter is.

I hereby violate
my direct and explicit orders

and identify myself as the man
you knew as "Frank Wirtanen".

I affirm and will affirm under oath...

that I recruited you
as an American agent...

and that you,
at great personal sacrifice,

became one of the most effective
agents of the Second World War.

If there must be a trial
of Howard W. Campbell, Jr...

let it be one hell of a contest...

and may justice be served.

Yours truly, Frank.

May justice be served.

I like the sound of that.

They say that a hanging man
hears glorious music.

I wonder what it sounds like.

♫ "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas..." ♫