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(eerie music)

(eerie music)

(eerie music)

(eerie music)

One should never dig things from the past.

My mother always said that.

She was adamant about it,

especially when I told her I would start getting therapy.

I guess she was worried about what it would uncover.

She told me I had to

stop holding on to things in the past.

What happened has happened.

You can't change it.

She said I had to look ahead,

to where the opportunities are.

In the future, anything can happen.

You're in charge.

The past is in motion.

Memories are constantly changing.

Maybe that's why I've become so obsessed with my childhood,

because it's a living place.

Where things are constantly in motion.

A fight between my maternal grandparents when I was a kid,

for years was incomprehensible to me.

But one day, 30 years later, that suddenly changed.

It took on a new shape.

The memory grew.

Grandma, look what I found.

Can I please have these vintage stamps?

And became immense.

What are those letters?

I'll take those letters.

Hello?

- Hi! - Hi.

Has everything been fine?

Yeah, home so soon?

Yeah, it was a boring party.

But actually I had fun.

Um should I call you an Uber?

No, no, I have my bike-

- it's fine. - Okay.

Is everything okay with the kids?

Oh yes, they're sleeping.

They behaved well.

I'll lock the door behind you.

You be safe now.

- I will, bye. - Bye.

Why did we have to leave so early?

I can't take his attitude.

You saw how he was acting, right?

I think he's a nice person.

Yeah, I could tell.

What did you say?

I said I could tell.

But what do you mean by that?

I mean if you and I go to a party together,

then we go home together.

She's not great at cleaning,

but we still have to pay her a full 500.

The kids like her a lot.

Did you put a paper bag in here?

You're nitpicking now, it's quite annoying.

Using paper bag for garbage is not a smart thing to do.

Let's just sit down on the couch and put on some good music.

Ah.

Want me to help?

Go sit on the couch, I'll handle this matter.

Is it my fault you can't pick up a garbage bag?

Is it my fault that you used a paper bag

to store the garbage?

We're fighting over a garbage bag, seriously?

Seriously, go lie down on the couch.

You've been dancing all evening.

Is that why you're cranky?

Because I danced and had fun?

You know, sometimes I feel like I'm married

to a little girl, can't you just grow up?

You fight with everyone these days.

Even our kids are starting to get scared of you.

You don't need to bring them into this.

I do,

because we are all so sick

of your need to control everything.

Okay, and I'm also very sick

of your need for validation, it's pathetic.

What's pathetic?

Your need for validation, I saw how you were acting.

Acting like what?

When you were dancing.

Are you jealous?

No, not at all.

I just think you're sad.

You should go back.

The party isn't over.

What are we even fighting about, enough?

No need to make excuses, just go back.

- The kids are sleeping. - I can see it on your face.

What?

- What do you mean? - Go, just go.

- Where should I go? - To the party!

Mom?

It's okay.

Come here.

- Wait a second. - No.

I'm taking the kids to my mom's in Skåne tomorrow.

And you're not coming with us.

You have a problem, Alex.

And you have to take responsibility for it.

I can't help you.

You have to do it yourself.

Amanda told me she gets scared when I get really angry.

I didn't recognize it.

I've never become violent,

never hit anyone in my entire life.

Only when it was too late did I realize

that I acted out of rage in darker frequencies.

At first I thought it could be a good thing

that the rage only existed inside me.

If things go dark on the inside,

the outside is still bright.

But it wasn't true.

I now know that it's ruining something important.

You and I will draw a family map.

I focus on the child's perspective.

In the best case scenario,

a family map can provide an overview

of how relationships are connected.

And which of these significant behaviors

have actually been passed down to you?

What are your parents' names?

One should never dig things from the past.

What's happened has happened.

Though searching for the source of their behaviors,

start with their parents.

Is there such a thing as original evil in a family?

And if it exists, how would it help me?

Would it heal me?

I didn't think so.

My darkness

is just

my darkness.

Let us see how everyone is connected.

Please mark what you consider good relationships

with a straight line.

Mark conflict-laden relationships with zigzag lines.

To follow the prickliness winding across the family map,

to see all the anxiety extending towards the same person,

all the gnarly arrows pointing in the same direction.

All right, can you sit down?

For once made things clear.

It was irresistible.

There was something there.

What do you see?

I see

lots of good relationships on my father's side.

And lots of bad ones on my mother's side.

On your mother's side?

Do you see where all the conflicts originate?

Mm, yes.

Who was Sven Stolpe for you?

My maternal grandfather.

And if you were to describe him with one word?

Genius.

Another word?

Dying.

Do you want to play?

I'll pass, Grandma.

Okay. Passable.

You have to help me with this.

What is this anyway?

Oh, you know, just all sorts of things you like.

Are you jealous?

Hmm.

Louse-ridden.

Oh, well.

I got you.

Yes.

Grandpa?

Alexander.

You've raised me from the dead.

I would usually arrive on Friday evening

and stay until Sunday.

No other place was as quiet as my grandparents' home.

He hated noise.

Most of all, he hated the sound of children crying.

It kept him from working.

Grandpa often sat in his study

with his eyes locked on a book.

When Grandpa wasn't in his study, he was in bed.

He once told me that he'd suffered

from a fever since 1938.

What are you reading?

Light, quick and tender.

What's it about?

Colossal abominations.

Jealousy,

betrayal,

death.

But why read it if it's so horrible?

I'm updating myself on my catalog.

All authors have to do that once in a while.

Did you want something?

Uh, Grandma wants to know if you

want Sherry or Cognac after dinner.

Yes, please.

Sherry or Cognac?

Yes, that would be nice.

What did he say?

Um, yes, that would be nice.

Grandpa?

Yes?

You have something red on your clothes.

What are you saying?

Do you mean this?

Oh my God, I'm spilled.

Oh.

Do you see this, Karen?

Do you think it's ketchup?

Um, what is it?

Well, it's an award that Grandpa got

from the French president.

How are you doing at school?

Do they teach anything these days?

What history are you studying?

You know the

Ten Commandments?

What is the first commandment?

- Sven. - Can you answer that?

- Sven. - Oh!

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

The truth is there is no god these days.

So what do you think is sacred these days?

Absolutely inviolable in today's society.

Can you answer that?

Sexuality.

That is absolutely sacred in today's society.

Fidelity and loyalty

that can be discarded.

I once asked a young man,

what he would picture as the greatest possible source

of happiness in life?

He was 14 years old, a talented boy.

Do you know what he said?

He said to lie on a beach

and have countless orgasms.

That is the state of Swedish youth.

You're not like that, right?

No.

Here's some apple cake and custard.

There.

No.

I can't just sit here all evening.

But don't you want desserts, Sven?

Dessert.

Hi, it's- it's me.

I hope you got there safely.

Maybe you're swimming, but I wanted to call and tell you

that I may have discovered something that could help us.

It's about Grandpa and Grandma.

Can you call me when you hear this

and say hi to your mom for me?

I miss you guys.

The blow that struck me came from where I expected

the most loyalty.

Sven Stolpe has no imagination.

All his novels are about the exact same thing.

A man unfortunate enough to meet a treacherous woman.

The woman cheats on him with another man.

Stolpe changes the settings of his novels,

changes the names of the characters,

but they're all about the same thing.

A woman's infidelity.

I read his diaries and memoirs.

One year keeps recurring.

The summer his life went dark.

He repeatedly writes about that summer,

about the disaster that unfolded

without describing what actually happened a single time.

In the summer of 1932,

I was subjected to sexual aggression.

At the behest of no one,

searching for something that probably doesn't exist,

well, I should really be somewhere else.

I searched through archives

for something that might lead me somewhere.

Hey, if you intend to publish that picture,

you need to report it to us. - Yeah, all right.

Let's see, you asked for Sven Stolpe's letters.

Mm-hmm.

- Here you go. - Thank you.

You're welcome.

I wasn't getting anywhere.

It might have given up

if I hadn't spotted something that I couldn't explain.

What is he talking about in these letters?

In the diary entries, two initials kept recurring.

O

L

O-L, always.

Stolpe has nightmares about O-L.

Stolpe reads D.N.,

spots a text by O-L,

and immediately has to throw out the newspaper.

Went to a disputation--

Encounters O-L one day.

Saw O-L.

And almost perishes.

Hi, I went through the archive

and I found some more clippings and photos.

That's great. Thank you.

Olaf Lagerkranz, Karin Stolpe, and Sven Stolpe.

All right, now.

Look into the camera.

If O-L is Olaf Lagerkranz,

did he have a romantic affair with my grandmother,

Karin Stolpe,

in the summer of 1932?

May I sit with you for a while?

Yes, go ahead.

Where is Mr. Stolpe?

He's writing his next work and he must not be disturbed.

What will it be?

A play, I think.

Think?

I can tell from the rhythm that he's writing lines.

How exciting.

We'll see.

What are you writing?

Yesterday, I was writing a sanatorium novel.

And today?

Today, it seems to be a collection of poems.

You are quite fickle.

I don't know if I'm much of a writer,

but I'm a good editor of my own texts.

You have a unique eye for your own inadequacy.

Exactly.

How is your own work going?

I've gathered that you're in high demand as a translator.

Yes, it keeps me preoccupied.

Is it lonely?

What is?

The work?

Being Sven Stolpe's wife.

You need to eat if you're to amount to anything.

Good luck with the poem.

Stigtuna, 1932.

Sexual aggression.

National Library.

Olaf Lagerkranz, what do you have on him?

We have press clippings, photographs, letters.

Any letters from Karin Stolpe?

No, I'm afraid not.

But we have articles, journals, diaries.

Can I get copies of the diaries, please?

Any particular period that you're interested in?

The Diaries of the Summer of 1932.

The Stigtuna Foundation, June 18th, 1932.

I caught myself looking for her.

and I take the long way through the corridor.

I caught myself looking for her.

I stay in the dining hall.

I take the long way through the corridor

and keep circling through the garden.

I stay in the dining hall longer than necessary.

Anything to catch,

a glimpse of her.

The Stigtuna Foundation.

Everyone went there back then.

Authors, poets, intellectuals

with dreams of being published.

They were fed and had free access to the enormous library.

And they could stay until they had finished writing.

I hope I'm not disturbing you.

I'm just looking for a book I saw the other day.

No, it's fine.

How is the translation going?

Not so great.

I hit a brick wall.

Maybe I can help, madam.

Don't be too formal, please.

Can I help you then?

I didn't realize you knew French.

No, me neither.

I'm trying to find the Swedish equivalent

of a French expression.

(speaking in foreign language)

It doesn't exist in Swedish, but it roughly translates to,

every fool has his own thing.

In the book, the main character uses it about his mother

who insists on drinking unskimmed milk.

He shakes his head and says,

every fool has his own thing.

I like the sound of it.

It's-

forgiving somehow.

Isn't it?

It means we're all entitled to be like we want to be.

We're all a bit foolish in one way or another.

What is Sven's thing?

Excuse me?

If we're all foolish, what is Sven's foolish thing?

He turns off the engine when going downhill.

Why does he do that?

To save gasoline.

What is my thing?

You cover your mouth when you laugh.

What? No, I don't do that.

You just did.

But it's nice, it's quite modest somehow.

And what about you?

What is your thing?

I don't know yet.

I'll have to think about it.

I'll be back.

What book are you looking for?

It is...

I only remember that it has a red spine.

What is the most beautiful word you've translated?

I love you.

It doesn't matter which language you say those three words,

it always sounds beautiful.

Did you know that there's a word

for love in the Arabic language?

That doesn't just mean I love you,

but I love your soul,

and everything that your gentle soul touches.

Is there such a word?

That's so lovely.

Is it this one?

No.

On second thought, I think it was up in the balcony.

Have a good day.

Perhaps Mr. Lagerkranz is handy with car engines.

Well, I'm used to things not working like they're supposed to.

So? What do you say?

Would you care to venture a guess?

I can give it a try.

It's an impressive car,

a great beauty.

Oh yes, only when it works.

It's a prototype of a new Citroen that

I only got through my French contacts.

I travel a lot to give lecture, so

I felt I deserved something nice.

It was a great deal. The resale value was tremendous.

Is that so?

- Oh yes. - Yes.

Every time I take the car out for a spin,

it increases in value because of its immense quality.

Have I told you about the time

when the Swedish ambassador and I

enjoyed a very pleasant and wet

evening in Paris and I was heading home?

As I left the embassy, the street

was enveloped in dense fog.

Oh.

And before long, I found myself disoriented.

I saw a police officer walking towards me.

He stopped the car and asked me how I was doing.

I admitted I was lost and asked where I was.

On Champs-Élysées, he said.

That left me completely perplexed,

because the street I was on was as narrow as an alley.

The police officer just stared at me.

Maybe that's because you're driving on the sidewalk.

- Try to start the engine now. - Alright.

You're a man of hidden talents, Mr. Lagerkranz.

What do I owe you?

Nothing, no.

It was an interesting challenge.

I insist on paying

for the services that you've rendered today.

I don't want anything.

If you hadn't fixed it, I would

have had to take it to a repair shop.

Let me take the car for a spin.

I have an errand in Sigtuna, and I

would love to drive...

this great beauty.

It's a deal, then. The key is in the ignition.

Thank you.

I'll go with Mr. Lagerkranz.

I have clothes to pick up at the dry cleaners.

Oh, you do?

Make sure to have the car and my wife back here in an hour.

I'm leaving for Stockholm, then.

Certainly.

Good morning, Alex.

What's this?

A book I've translated.

I have to check that everything

is correct before it's published.

Passionism?

What's that?

The Passionists are a

Catholic society established in the 18th century

by a man named Paul, and they're very interesting.

The society preached mainly about the Passion of Christ.

But...

isn't passion about love?

Passion is about both, actually.

Of love

and death.

The word 'passio' is Latin and means suffering.

The death of Jesus is often described as a passion.

But just like you said,

passion is a word that can also signify being

intensely.

Or even fatally in love.

Please thank Sven for the loan.

Karin.

We never picked up the clothes from the dry cleaners.

But they were closed.

Isn't that so?

Mr. Lagerkranz is thanking you for the loan.

All right, Franz. Can you give me some more of that?

Mrs. Stolpe?

Here.

Give me a little, just a little.

Yes.

All right.

Chin-chin.

- Chin? - Chin-chin.

I don't want a six.

Really?

How about that?

A two.

Thanks a lot.

- Chi-chi! - No.

Oh well.

That's it for me.

Goodnight.

Yes, goodnight.

- Good night. - Goodnight.

Good night.

- Sleep well. - Thank you for the drinks.

Sure.

No, you don't stand a chance playing cards with Karin.

All right.

Now let's stop.

It's actually time for that.

But you can't quit in the middle of a game.

My hand is quite sore.

I fold.

I'll just finish the game.

I'll be along shortly.

Is that so?

I see.

Now I'm tired as well. I'll go now.

Karin.

Sven?

We arrived together.

And we leave together.

What does it matter what happens to us down here?

In a hundred years, there will be nothing left

of our battles.

Maybe some future literary historian

will go through Sven Stolpe's writings

and figure out a solution for a tragedy.

Do you remember how we met?

I heard a singing up in the tower room.

We would meet there every evening.

And

we talked about everything.

Educate me, he used to exclaim.

And you did.

You opened up new worlds for me.

When you proposed to me,

you said that marriage is like a long conversation.

That everything else

in a relationship is transient.

Everything

except for the conversation.

I'm sorry.

No.

I can't just sit here all day.

But what about dessert?

Dessert.

Oh.

- Hi David, thanks. - Hi.

Thanks for coming.

Yeah, yeah.

I'll have the same.

Should we get something to eat? I'm a bit peckish.

No, no, I'm fine.

Maybe later.

But you can go ahead and order.

No, no, no, I can definitely wait.

Yes, okay.

I'm sorry I'm a bit late.

My meeting took longer than expected.

No worries.

When is the book going to come out?

In September, but this meeting was about the movie rights

to my previous book. - Oh, that's great.

Yeah, it's this big American studio.

Great.

Thank you.

All right, Alex, cheers.

So tell me,

how are you doing with the blog and the--

Uh, The podcast.

All right, the podcast.

Is it going well?

Yeah, well, it's fine.

I also,

I write as well.

I actually wrote a book last year,

about my mother.

Right, yes, that one.

Have you read it?

No, I'm afraid not.

But maybe you're writing something new now.

- Huh? - Well, yeah, maybe.

I don't know what it will be yet,

but I'm researching my grandfather's history.

Oh.

And that naturally led you to his

lifelong feud with my father.

Sven Stolpe, that was a profanity in our house.

Whenever his name was mentioned, well, my dad had--

Yes, Sven had a lot of enemies.

But I...

have gathered that this conflict

with Olaf was special somehow.

And I think I know why.

Olaf's affair with Karin Stolpe--

- So you know about us. - Oh yes.

Our family has always known about it.

And it-

it's like what happened between my dad and Karin.

It never really disappeared from our family's memory.

I've actually read your dad's diary.

And I've gathered that they corresponded

by letter during that period.

I've searched for letters everywhere,

at the National Library and the archives,

but I haven't found anything.

So I thought

that maybe you could,

if you're able to--

Yes, okay, yes, sure, absolutely.

I'll look into it.

Thank you.

No problem.

Um.

Hey, I'm getting a bit peckish now.

If I could have a steak tartare, let's do it.

It's a bird's nest.

They're blackbirds.

It's amazing.

Come on.

Here.

Careful.

What is it?

I think I discovered your foolish thing.

What is it?

The shoes.

You took them off in the car as well.

Yes, it's true.

I like being barefoot.

Tell me something about you.

I've been ill,

severely ill with consumption.

Now, in hindsight,

it feels like it's

only now that I'm alive,

that my 21 years of existence

have just been a long preparation for

whatever starts now.

Last year, I wanted to kill myself.

Why did you want to kill yourself?

When Sven and I first met,

I was pregnant then

by

another man.

So

I decided to go to Copenhagen in secret

to have it removed.

And when

I got back home,

I was totally spent.

I couldn't get out of bed.

Sven demanded to know where I'd been.

Sven has never forgiven me

for that mistake.

Quick.

Quick, you need to leave.

Mr. Lagerkranz.

Mr. Stolpe.

Are you getting anything done?

Yes.

How is the play coming along?

Fine, thanks.

I have an ending.

Olaf Lagerkranz is a better writer than Sven Stolpe.

You feel freer in his texts.

There's light here.

Over and over again in his memoirs,

in his poems and essays,

Lagerkranz tells the story of when he fell in love

with a married woman.

Olaf Lagerkranz and Sven Stolpe,

a thread run straight through their authorships.

One of them writes over and over again about an angel.

The other writes over and over again about a whore.

They're writing about Karin Stolpe.

Throughout the decades, they tell her story.

Meanwhile Karin, doesn't say a single word.

Oh, it's you.

What are you writing?

My life's work,

my final book.

What's it about?

About the truth.

Good night, Alexander.

Good night, Grandpa.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those

who trespass against us and lead us

and lead us not into temptation.

But deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom

and the power and the glory forever.

- Amen. - Amen.

Sleep tight, my dear,

and thank you for today.

Are we waiting for something?

I invited him.

I assume you don't mind.

Am I late?

We're still early.

What we are about to enter is something extraordinary.

This place is one of the most well-preserved church rooms

from the time of the Swedish Empire.

Here we see the Christ child cleansing.

A human heart, do you see them?

Look closely, it's fascinating.

Do you see all the serpents and beasts

being cleansed from the heart?

Isn't she beautiful?

The holy mother of God.

She's the purest among women.

It is quite rude to have our travel companion

sit by himself in the back.

Why don't you join him on our way home?

His name would travel around the world.

He flies around in an airplane

and he holds several mass meetings every day.

The attendees are ecstatic, totally mesmerized.

I don't think he has a sense of humor.

He speaks in dramatic terms.

The purity of blood, a will made of steel.

Purity...

What is that for you, Sven?

What do you mean?

I've actually read your novel, Craven.

Have you?

You write about a main character

who goes through life with just a single requirement

and that is female purity.

It's a sick man with sick requirements

from the 19th century and that man,

that main character is none other than you.

But surely you understand that you can't hold him

accountable for a work of fiction.

It does not reflect who he is in real life.

I just have two simple things to say.

So first of all, the main character in the novel, Craven,

suffers from an obsessive neurosis

involving a mother complex, misogyny,

hyperintellectualism, a father complex,

idealism, sexual disorders, narcissism,

conservatism and grand delusions.

And secondly, that character actually exists in real life

and his name is Sven Stolpe.

Where have you been all this time?

And you have finally come alive, young man.

- Huh? - Unbelievable.

And here I thought you were totally uninteresting,

empty,

a vacuum.

No.

You should drink more often, Mr. Lagerkranz.

It suits you well.

Good evening.

Maybe he had too much to drink.

What's that?

An egg.

A blackbird egg.

Karin.

Karin!

What is it?

Nothing.

When Amanda and I had just met,

I told her about something that happened

when I was a child.

I laid out in the sun an entire summer day.

I wanted to bake in the sun,

so mom would rub lotion on me on that particular evening.

I burned myself intentionally to get her to touch me.

And when I told Amanda that time,

she put a hand on my shoulder.

And then I suddenly started crying.

I didn't know why I was crying,

but she held me and comforted me,

and she whispered, 'Feels good to cry'.

I cried and it couldn't stop.

And I didn't dare ask her.

I didn't dare ask why I was so sad.

It feels like he knows already.

It seems like everyone knows.

You're just imagining things.

If Sven suspected anything, we would have noticed.

I'm not so sure about that.

Thank you.

It doesn't look good for us to sit here by candlelight.

Come, have a seat and help us out.

We were arguing about who was the better poet of our time,

Froding or Karlfeldt.

And what is Karin's position?

Have a seat, please.

Karlfeldt, I think.

You've never read Karlfeldt?

Sure I have.

I've never heard you say a single word about Karlfeldt.

I look forward to the recital tomorrow.

I want to hear more about my wife's secret preferences.

Can't you give us something?

Perhaps a title or a genre?

Perhaps the not so subtle invite.

The dove and the eagle captured your interest, Karin.

What makes you think that?

I am a turtle dove.

My chest is soft and white.

Fly over a field and grove

and thinly scattered trees

until the forest no one sees

and reach my nest at night.

I prefer his work on May night voices.

Is that also from Fridolin's songs?

Songs of wilderness and of love.

Around your curls I wrap the bridal veil.

A garland of dew-covered

violets I give to thee.

Fresh shall it smell in the summer gale.

After this May night,

gone the scent will be.

I will let you finish the poem.

Sven, please.

You can't expect everyone else to memorize poems like you do.

One time my beloved,

the virgin pink is present.

Blossoms in life, fragrant and free.

Hurry, my dear groom,

for the day draws near.

Kiss me this May night.

And then let it be.

She's not everyone else.

Mr. Lagerkranz, you might as well learn that.

And with those noteworthy words,

I shall take my leave then.

Goodnight.

My dearest little dove,

if you ever dare to cheat on me,

I will make sure to shoot the man first,

then you,

then finally myself.

It's almost time for the recital.

It'll be interesting.

Karin is an intellectually stunning

woman whom everyone falls in love with.

But I've shed so much blood to win her that

not even an earthquake will tear us apart.

Come on darling, we're running late.

This will be exciting.

Yes, for me as well.

Haven't you read it?

Not yet, all I know is the title.

Good morning, I want to welcome all of

you to this informal yet special event.

What I'm about to read to you is work

that for me holds very special significance.

Just like the room we're sitting in

right now is a place of special significance.

I met my dear wife in this exact room we're all in,

and we were married at this renowned institution.

And with great love and honor I

want to dedicate this play to

my Karin.

Betrothed.

A special play in three acts.

Character.

Arvid, a young journalist and author.

Carla, his fiancée.

Stig, his editor at the newspaper.

Avind, the other man.

Dr. Jensen, the abortionist in Copenhagen.

Act 1.

At the newspaper.

In the middle of the floor is a desk.

There's a typewriter on the desk.

Sitting at the typewriter is Arvid.

He was all alone in the newsroom.

He has just finished a text that he considers a bulwark against

the downfall of sexual morality, about the importance of

restoring male requirements for female purity.

New scene.

One month earlier had an abortion clinic in Copenhagen.

In a windowless basement in the

same building where the church is.

The abortionist is wearing a white apron

with dark red traces of the day's work.

In the basement corridors she hears other women screaming.

What are the risks of the procedure?

Infection in the womb.

Vaginal perforation.

Air embolisms in the blood which

could result in untimely death.

Oh please, I can't listen to any more of this.

I insist that you are made fully

aware of what I will do to your body.

Look at me.

Look at me.

First, there will be bleeding.

It could take several days.

But then eventually

comes the child.

Let it happen.

Let it happen.

Deliver this unwanted life to eternity.

This fruit of lust and licentiousness.

Do you wish

to see your child?

When the illegal abortion is

completed an even worse situation arises.

Setting: The couple's bedroom.

After ten days of silence she returns home.

The unsuspecting fiancé faces a

creature he no longer recognizes.

A woman who is struck to the ground.

Karin.

What's happening to you?

Shame is embedded in the flesh.

You will never be clean.

She is my beloved wife.

But she also

was his mistress.

The lies stacked on each other then

turned into a wall in our marriage.

Your marble white neck is exposed to my eye which now sees

clearly...

how the deception must die.

He gropes wildly in the dark, shedding

all of his inhibitions.

He lunges at her.

She then feels his hands around her throat.

And when her head smashes into the wall,

she loses consciousness.

Finally, with just the hand moving,

it touches her cheek.

It slowly slides across the bloody mouth.

And the final movement freezes.

And thus, death liberates a treacherous woman's soul.

But in the darkness, a note is heard.

'I loved'.

'I loved'.

Bravo.

'I will scream'.

Look at me.

Damn.

Hello?

- Hello, Dad. - Hello, Dad.

Hey, what are you doing?

We're down on the beach. When are you coming?

Um, coming soon.

Dad, can you bring Dino?

I forgot to bring him.

Absolutely.

I just have some things to do around town.

Really? Like what?

I'll be there soon.

I promise you guys.

Anyway, have fun today

and we'll talk again tonight, okay?

Wait, Dad.

Look at this first.

Oh, wow.

Wow.

Bye, Dad.

I love you.

Hey there.

- Hey. - Package.

Oh, thanks.

All right, just sign here.

Yeah.

Here.

- Thanks. - Thanks a lot.

Sender - David Lagerkranz.

When do we leave?

In half an hour, I asked for help to carry our bags down.

Good.

Are you really fit to drive?

Oh, yes.

As long as I can rest a little.

I've decided to leave Sven.

But you don't just leave Sven on a whim.

And there are some things I think you need to know.

I can't be scared away from you.

Do you know that Sven has a revolver?

He...

actually showed it to me one day

and said that he was going to shoot

the man who got me pregnant.

He's crazy.

No.

He's dangerous.

Are you scared now?

No.

I could die for you

at any given time.

When will I see you again?

Can I write to you?

Write to the post office in Vassagatin.

Use the name K.A. Larson.

I love you.

K.A. Larson, Stockholm I.

Grandma.

My beloved.

Look what I found.

Can I have these vintage stamps?

My hands are trembling as I compose this letter.

I'll take those letters.

What are those letters?

You've just left town and I've never

felt as deserted and lonely as I do now.

Life is dead and colorless without you.

Please bear in mind that I will always love you.

I will dedicate my entire life to you.

This is pure madness.

I'm being obsessed with just a single thought.

You.

Not seeing anything other than you, your body, your beautiful

eyes, your luscious mouth, your lovely bosoms.

Hearing you whisper from every leaf,

every lake and every blow of the wind.

Why do you have to be married

to a devilish man?

That Sven gets to own you and

treat you however ruthlessly he wants.

Without me being able to

intervene, just thinking all those thoughts.

It's unbearable for me to handle.

My dear Olaf.

Together, we will be

unimaginably, surreally happy forever.

You don't despise me

and that thought alone makes me happy.

Wait for me

and don't forget me.

I'll be the happiest woman in the whole world

if half of your love is intact when we meet again.

Sven?

Can we have a talk?

Speak if you must.

I want us to get divorced.

You say that you've never loved me.

That...

it was a mistake for us to get married.

I cannot live a life of constant punishment, Sven.

Sven, can you listen to me?

Can you listen to me for once?!

However much we try, it's just not working.

That's why it's better for both

of us if we go our separate ways.

We are no longer in love, that is true.

But we have something else. We have our conversation.

- Convesation... - And with--

God's help we will get through this.

We don't talk to each other at all.

I've spoken with my mother

and I can stay with her at Limnas.

Good.

Go to Limnas and spend a few days there.

Then you'll come back here to our home.

This isn't working anymore.

I saw a doctor.

He said the other lung has been affected.

Not only do I have tuberculosis, but

a very severe case of tuberculosis.

Yes, I know, but...

There are no buts!

My death is imminent!

I am merely 26 years old, and

already I will be writing my will.

And while I'm preparing for the inevitable, I'm supposed to

keep at least one foot left in life

and hope for a miracle.

I was informed that there was a

small chance that I'll survive this.

But I have to take care of myself.

I need to get plenty of sleep.

Go for walks.

Breathe fresh air.

And most importantly, I can't be agitated.

You hear me?!

I can't be agitated!

I will die.

I'll perish.

But the question is if you'll survive.

Because I won't spare you.

I will make sure that your story spreads.

Your lovers.

The extramarital pregnancy.

The illegal abortion you committed.

Your time in the mental hospital.

When I'm done you won't have anyone left by your side.

Except possibly

the ravenous men who would pursue an easily tempted woman.

Karin.

Don't leave me.

Please stay.

Why did you save your letters?

I didn't save them, I just didn't throw them away.

Stop it!

You are pathetic.

Where did you find these letters?

I don't know where.

Was it Karin's dresser drawer?

Or in her bedside table drawer?

I don't remember.

You don't remember? You just found them!

I don't know!

My precious beloved Karin.

No!

- Sven. - Quiet.

Yesterday from dawn to dusk,

I was violently aroused

by my love for you.

Today I can discern the sweet melodies

in my heart.

What a loathsome person!

Your kisses

still burn on my lips.

This is pure madness.

Being obsessed with just a single thought.

You.

Karin,

I will be able to support us.

However, at the moment,

it will be a few tough years,

at first, before I can earn a living with my pen, but

we're not in a hurry.

We have our lives ahead of us.

Isn't that so?

Yes.

Are you sad?

No.

I'm just happy.

I want to go with you to Limnas.

The thought of not seeing you is...

unbearable.

We'll have to wait for a while,

until everything settles down.

Then you'll come see me.

You'll write to me?

I'll write to you.

My dear Olaf,

the days here at Limnas give me a sense of calm,

which I have been longing to experience.

It's like I've finally moved back home to my own place.

I'm finally able to control my own life,

to control my own work,

and decide for myself when it's time to go to sleep,

and then wake up at dawn and listen to the birds singing.

There's a blackbird living in the crown of the oak tree.

It makes me miss you.

Perhaps at this very moment,

I'm the freest person in the whole world.

So tell me, where's your mother?

In Gottinger?

She's staying the night there.

What are you doing here?

I want us to try to work on our relationship,

salvage what we have.

I realize that I've behaved badly,

and I want to ask for forgiveness.

May I come in?

If we are to dissolve our

marriage after so little time together,

and betray our vows,

I want us to

talk things through without fighting.

You owe me that much.

If you still want a divorce tomorrow,

I promise to agree to it.

Is that a promise I can rely on?

Is there coffee?

No, but I can make some.

No, no, no, no. You don't have to do anything.

I'll handle it. Stay there.

I thought we could go for a walk.

I need to stretch my legs.

If you have time, of course, after we've had coffee.

Yes.

Do you know who that is?

I don't know who that is.

Hello?

Hold it.

Stop right there.

Do you hear me? Stop.

Stop right there.

Hey, stop!

Intruder!

Intruder, stop!

Stop! Stop, you bastard!

Karin, do you realize how serious all this is to me?

I've never loved someone before.

It has always been a delusion of some kind.

Now I know what great passion means.

It is to give yourself completely.

It is total devotion.

A voluntary dependency.

I am severely worried about the future history of these letters.

They could ruin your reputation

if you don't observe precautions.

Let's go inside.

I kiss you

and beg you

to always let me love you,

your...

Olaf.

For sixty years, you've held on to these letters.

You have kept these letters as your nighttime reading.

You really have a flair

for making everything sound dramatic.

Do you think

you would have been happier with that bastard?

I can't imagine a happier marriage than what we have.

What did you say?

You heard me right.

So why have you stayed with me all these years?

If it's Olaf you keep thinking about.

You know why.

You know the answer.

Curse you!

Open the door!

Open it!

So this is your

final attempt to end things and kill me!

You want me dead, don't you?

Sven will demand that you show him all the letters.

I want to ask you.

Burn all my letters.

My life depends on it.

Show me the letters.

What letters?

What do you mean what letters?

There must be a lot of letters.

Addressed here, to Stockholm.

How else did he know you're here?

I've burned all the letters.

I don't believe you.

Do you know how many times he made love to you

or that's also difficult to remember?

Sven, please, I want you to get into the

car and go back to where you came from.

Don't dare deny it! I know he was here!

It's not that hard to get you to bed, I should know.

How many times did you do it?

One.

One time.

One time.

Oh God.

What do you think Olaf sees in you?

What are you thinking?

Do you think Olaf will come get you

the next time you're in the hospital?

He'll never do that.

He'll let you rot in there.

Didn't you see him run away?

Like a scared little rabbit.

He didn't even fight for you.

Karen.

Karen, I know.

I know that I'm a very difficult person to live with.

I can be hopeless.

But I will never run away from you.

Do you understand?

I promise you

that I will stay.

I will endure.

All I ask is that you do the same for me.

Let's go home.

To our place.

Dear Olaf,

this is the most difficult letter I've ever had to write.

I don't think we can be together.

Not like this. Not right now.

You're so young.

With so much ahead of you.

Maybe in a few years when you've

become the man you're destined to be.

When I...

Sven, what are you doing?

Stop the car.

Mrs. Stolpe,

the car flipped over and caught fire.

You've been in surgery for five hours.

The doctor transplanted skin from your thigh

to try to patch up your neck and chest.

Everything should be good now.

How are you today, Mrs. Stolpe?

You will recover, don't worry.

But it will take some time.

You don't have to worry about the child.

The child is fine.

Oh.

Is it?

Yes.

It's our child.

I was overtaking.

I saw the oncoming car too late.

I was forced to swerve.

It was a terrible accident.

Isn't that so, Karin?

Isn't that so?

Grandpa hasn't gone far.

I'm sorry I showed Grandpa the letters.

It wasn't your fault.

None of what happened tonight was your fault.

Don't worry.

What letters are those?

You know, there's a poem by

Edith Söttegrön,

the land which is not.

Have you read it at school?

A lot of people say it's about death.

I am of the opposite opinion.

It is a place for dreams.

I often think it is a far more beautiful place

than reality.

That's why I saved the letters,

so I could visit that place in my mind.

Please excuse me.

I'll go to your grandpa now.

Do I know what love is?

25/6, first kiss.

Social structure.

Olaf's diary.

Olaf Lagerkranz.

Is it time to leave already?

Yes.

Oh well.

But you'll be back, right?

Yes, I'll be back.

And please,

take care of your mother, hmm?

I promise, grandpa.

Are you writing the truth?

Alexander, we have to go now.

Bye, grandpa.

Take care of yourself.

You too, grandma.

Say hi to your mom.

I will.

- Bye. - Bye.

I had a nightmare when I was a child.

I saw on the news one evening

that they had discovered a stone-age man in a glacier.

They dug him out and he was completely intact.

You could look straight into his eyes.

They called him the Ice Man.

I could never forget him.

I later dreamed that I was trapped alive in the ice.

Life was still going on outside,

but I couldn't move no matter how I tried.

I tried to call for help,

but I couldn't utter a single word.

I am the Ice Man.

But then something happens in the end.

There's movement on the other side.

I see glimpses of rescue workers.

They chop wildly through the ice.

There's movement on the other side.

'I have an ending' Sven Stolpe said to Karin,

according to the diaries from 1932.

I have a beginning.

Dad!

I missed you.

Karin and Sven Stolpa lived together

until Sven's death in 1996.

Sven Stolpa and Olaf Lagakranz became arch enemies.

In articles and books, they tried to destroy each other

for as long as they lived.

Olaf Lagakranz died in July 2002.

Karin Stolpe died only months after.