Original subtitles

»Wondrous to wander through mists! Parted are bush and stone,

None to the other exists, Each stands alone.

Many my friends came calling then, when I lived in the light;

Now that the fogs are falling, None is in sight.

Truly, only the sages, Fathom the darkness to fall,

Which, as silent as cages, Separates all. Strange to walk in the mists!

Life has to solitude grown. None for the other exists: Each is alone.«

Ursula! Which Ursula? No, I am on holiday. Yes, thank you, out.

Jacques, dammit, Jacques, I am tired of having to repeat myself.

Yes, I want to be on this front page. Thank you. Out.

My dear Fritz, »before you shake your head, make sure you have got one. «

Jacques, I really don’t care if the cover is already booked for the World Chancellor.

Buy the editor then, the paper, the whole damned country. Yes, I want to be on the front page! Out!

Gentlemen, follow me, please.

Jacques, stop getting on my nerves. Then torture that nitwit, you plonker!

Yes, of course it hurts. That is kind of the whole point of it and saves an enormous amount of time!

Oh, you haven’t thought about that. Do it now, then! Thank you. Out.

- Gentlemen, follow me, please. - Jacques, dammit, I want to be on this front page! Out!

- And what do you want from me? - Follow me, please.

No smoking, please.

Tut...

Dear me! Which blind, talentless craftsman is responsible for this disaster?

This, my dear Franz, is an authentic Johannes Ode.

- That so? - Hmmm.

Gentlemen, follow me, please.

How disgusting.

How incredibly ugly and naff this establishment is.

My dear Fritz, didn’t we explicitly ask for the Royal Suite?

And this stinking cowshed costs 5000 Weltmarks a day?

Before the war, in old currency, that would have been 500.000 Euro, wouldn’t it?

- 475.000 - 475.000! Imagine that!

Mon Dieu! A four-poster!

Pffft! Everything is so incredibly ugly! So... so uncivilized! So horrid!

Yes, comme toujours, dear Fritz. Read, suck, smoke, sleep.

Read, suck, smoke, sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

»Sleep is a short death and death is a long sleep.«

What are we supposed to do?

Will something happen already?

Dear Fritz, I need your undivided attention immediately! This place makes me utterly malade.

Dear Fritz, could you possibly take me in your arms for a moment?

A little hug? A snuggle? Consolation?

Dear visitors, welcome to »Seelenfrieden«.

My name is Prof. Dr. Immanuel Young.

Please sit down. Please chillax.

Dear visitors, welcome to...

This is disgusting!

What does it even mean?

I want him to stop

- Fritz, he must stop at once! He must stop... - Franz...

- He must stop... - Franz, do calm down.

- Somebody turn it off, dammit! - Franz, do calm down.

Calm down, I am always supposed to calm down! I am calm, bloody hell!

It is not my fault that everything here is so disgustingly uncivilized and ugly.

Dear visitors, welcome to...

Yes, the style of my environment is greatly important to me. How did Nietzsche put it so aptly:

»To improve the style is to improve the thought. «

Hear! Hear!

Dear visitors, welcome to »Seelenfrieden«.

Fritz? Fritz, I am incredibly hungry, all of a sudden.

- And I already am as fat as a pig. No! - »Success makes you happy like a pig in shit.«

Hold your peace! And stop blabbing at me so incessantly! I am dying of thirst!

Where is the organic champagne and extra tender seal fillet I ordered?

And, mon dieu, can somebody please turn off this nerve-racking voice?

Merci. God in the heavens above, this place makes you mad!

- Talking about madness, there is this famous saying... - Now do stop talking!

You don’t understand the tiniest bit. You don’t get the simplest facts of life!

The big picture!

As Seneca put it: »Not WHAT you endure is important, but HOW you endure it.«

That, my dear Franz, does not make the slightest bit of sense.

At times, some reflective thought would suit you far better

than quoting one of your self-proclaimed great thinkers.

Of whom you, deplorably and embarrassingly, haven't read anything but quotes and aphorisms.

Wasn't it only recently that you learned Plato isn't a planet?

Schmock!

It does make perfect sense. Then again, possibly not for a fuckwit like you.

I, on the other hand, I understand everything.

Yup. Because I'm handsome and intelligent while you, you're hideous and dim.

Alright then, how about another good-looking, intelligent little kiss, Sir?

Everybody should be looking good to begin with.

Even if, or maybe especially if they cannot perceive what's »good-looking«.

Yes, take blind people for instance. Yes, the blind should be good-looking.

Everybody should look good and intelligent.

In fact the whole world should be looking good, for chrissakes!

Haha! We've got a fascist here!

And by the way: »An aphorism is the last link in a long chain of thought.«

- But you get some good sleep! - »Even sleep is a form of critique, especially at the theatre.«

Oh, this is funny, my dearest esteemed Wits.

Wits, Fritz! Fritz, wits, wits, Fritz...

Yes, that might be the solution. Maybe I should just take things with a greater deal of humour.

As the saying goes: »Humour is the umbrella of the wise.«

Oh, and by the way, Witsy-Fritzy, »better well-quoted then half-wittedly made-up«, innit?

Chapeau, Franz! You're so inspired. You're quite the unrecognised genius.

Eventually, everyone is going to quote your words just like you quote others:

»The great Franz Freudenthal once said that Albert Einstein allegedly once said:

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity'.«

By the way. the quote is about you, my dearest Dunce, er...

- Franz. Dunce, Franz, Dunce... - Shut up, you...

Genius! Genius! Unrecognised genius!

Spirit, gods, luminaries – gather.

Come running! Yes, one must ultimately agree.

I surrender. Two inimitable great minds have slipped

though society's creative fingers.

What dizzy heights those two could have reached,

had they only been inflated with helium!

Two birdbrains fighting for the big, fat, slimy worm of wisdom.

Well then, let us abandon this topic for a bit

for me to take advantage of the situation

and explain the backgrounds of the story so far.

It’s the year 2020.

Every day, billions of people all over the world are falling victim

to the Establishment’s digital, medial, narcissistic, hedonistic, careerist, self-exploitatory,

masochistic, egomanic and consumerist sensory overload and suggestion.

Inexplicably hitherto, hundreds of millions of First-World citizens

have come down with anhedonia:

the inability to experience joy, lust and satisfaction.

Two exemplary victims of these dreadful circumstances

are the odd yet inseparable couple and offspring of the aristocracy,

Franz and Fritz Freudenthal.

Franz and Fritz have been world famous for all their lives.

They are the inheritors of billions and sons

of the legendary notorious chansonnier Friedrich Freudenthal

and the extraordinary performance artist Luise Freudenthal who founded

the sect-party »Hedonism for the World«.

Both parents jumped to their deaths

during a new year’s performance on Times Square,

their spirits enebriated by alcohol, opium and laughing gas

as a manifesto for love and hedonistic world peace

in front of rolling cameras and their children.

Franz and Fritz, shaken and traumatised by this tragedy

are then entrusted to the care of

a nudist artists’ commune named »The Body Must Breathe«,

where children are raised strictly according to the teachings of

the party founded by Luise Freudenthal, that views fun as life’s highest good.

This happens with great solicitude and success.

Franz and Fritz soon turn out

as perfect paramount examples of hedonistic enormity.

After years of excessive pleasure

and abuse of all conceivable zest stimulants,

a failed cabaret career as »Freudenthal Bros«,

a double-presidential candidacy for the »World Party Of Fun«

messed up with panache and several failed impulsive marriages,

both, like hundreds of millions of other first-world citizens

unexpected and suddenly came down with anhedonia.

Totally devoid of any meaning and tortured by their sorry existence

bereft of all joy and appetite, they vegetate

until they become aware of the new, unique zest-stimuli therapy

of world-famous and hip psychotherapist Prof. Dr. Immanuel Young,

in which they see the solution to all of their problems.

Site of the events so far is the main residence of the therapy-,

rehab- and wellness-resort »Seelenfrieden Island«.

So far, so good. Thanks for your undivided attention.

Are disgusting me.

I am slightly unwell.

Oh, I feel quite giddy. I need alcohol immediately!

Fritz, I think I am fainting. Fritz, I think... For Heaven’s sake. Fritz, I think I am dying

My Lord, I am dying...

»You have to keep silent or say things, which are even better than silence.«

Cut!

Aw, no. You can’t be serious.

Amateurs! I have seen quite a lot of rubbish in my life,

but this pile of shit is the biggest pile of them all!

You cunts! You are ruining my film! My work!

I want do die.

Schorsch, you didn’t like it at all?

- Because, well, I thought it went pretty well. - I thought it went pretty well, too.

I mean, what do you want? What shall we do? I...

Everything. Simply everything.

I want a pop now! Dammit, I need a pop. But with a straw. Hans!

Here you are, Schorsch!

- Thank you, Schorsch! - Bloody fucking shit!

You are not too quick on the uptake, aren't you? That was hideous!

- Well, Schorsch, I mean, somehow, constructive criticism is absolutely okay... - Yes, I agree.

- but, I think, you really don’t have to get that abusive and personal.

Yes, I think he is right. If you could somehow decently explain what you are getting at?

- It might be easier to play then, too. - Explain? - Yes.

- You want me to explain everything now? - Well, not everything...

- You read the script and were enthusiastic! - Yessir!

You don’t agree to do a film when you don’t understand its subject.

Or are you just in it for the money? Are you just cheap two-bob whores?

- No, Schorsch, of course not! - Not at all!

- We both read the script and... - Yeah,...

- I would even say we understood, right? - Read it enthusiastically, enthusiastically. - Right.

But I think, for the further course of the shoot, what would really help us

would be if you could maybe outline the film, or its essential meaning, in one sentence.

- Yes, I agree, because I am myself not absolutely...

The essential meaning of the film? Now? Midway through shooting?

You must be completely out of your minds!

Alright, let me spell it out for you:

Well, my film deals with the big question of humanity:

what is the »good life«?

My film is about freedom, justice, about happiness

capitalism, death and love.

In my film, the appallingly grotesque face of human existence is revealed.

We all are born into this world and then die accidentally,

but in between, and the two of you are the perfect example,

in between there is a period of infinite stupidity!

Well, to put it in a nutshell, my film is about human stupidity.

Have you got it now? Alright? Understood?

Capisce? Claro que si? Okay?

- Yes, okay. - Okay.

Okay.

Well, let’s go on, then. On your marks.

- Sound? - Sound is rolling.

- Camera? - Camera is rolling.

- Action! - I think I am dying...

»You should either be silent, or say things that are even better than silence.«

Dear, highly esteemed guests, please awake gently from your warm slumbers.

Et voilà! Let us now start directly with step one of my unique and award-winning zest-stimuli therapy.

This step is called »activus vegetus« or, in plain language »movement«.

My chief lackey Rüdiger will take your firearms now.

Please don’t put up any resistance.

This happens entirely for your own well-being and safety.

- Give me that. - Now we are stripped of our basic right to carry guns!

This is tyranny!

Afterwards Rüdiger will lead you outside and familiarise you with the amenities of my unique,

personal Garden of Eden.

Trust me, I am always with you and watch over you.

- Follow me, please. - What? Where are our taxis? With the slaves?

You don’t really believe, that I will walk a single yard by foot, you joke of a chief lackey?

- Him. - Do you follow me now?

- The hell I will! I want to see my slaves here right now! Pronto!

Come on, you dosser, get moving!

Are you out of your mind, you stupid lackey?

- Go, you dosser! March! - I will have you flogged! Flogged!

This is intolerable. I will have you flogged.

This is slavery!

- So what now? - Open! Now!

Good night, Franzi.

Catch me!

You are so beautiful-ul-ul-ul!

Please stay-ay-ay-ay!

- Catch me! - Please stay-ay-ay-ay!

- You are so beautiful-ul-ul-ul! - Catch me!

I love-ove-ove-ove you-ou-ou-ou!

I love-ove-ove-ove...

I love you-ou-ou-ou...

Esteemed gentlemen, now please undress swiftly to your dessous.

Splash about like a newborn, life-affirming duckling.

No, this is too much by far. I will surely not splash about. I am not mad...

Enjoy! Bye! Your Prof. Dr. Young

I won’t walk into this muddy mess. I will not splash about! I will...

Go splashing, you dosser!

Hey! You bloody slavedriver! You stupid lackey!

Shit!

Stop it!

- Come on in, Franzi... - No Fritz! I will drown...

You swine! I will pay you back in spades!

You stupid bore!

You pig!

Come on, you dossers! Off we go!

Esteemed guests, remove yourselves from the overwhelming floods of my godly thermal bath

and go home swiftly, before darkness falls around you.

Run as fast as you can! Have fun! Kisses, your Doc Young

Where am I? What happened?

- Thou art in heaven, dearest Franz. - Silence, you Schmock!

I am terribly hungry, suddenly. And thirsty.

- Didn’t you want to lose weight anyway? - I told you to be silent!

Good morning! I hope you slept well.

Et voilà! The motto of this beautiful, peaceful and sunny day is »Tranquilittas«.

Thank you, Rüdiger.

»Relaxation« in plain language.

Thank God!

»When God created men, he was already tired. Which explains a lot.«

Now slip apace into the coziest of your cozy robes

and follow my chief lackey Rüdiger into my personal Garden of Eden.

How? What? Where? Where are my slaves?

With the taxis. He talked about relaxation.

- Him. - Gentlemen, please follow me.

What? The same shit again? The fucking hell I will!

I want to see my slaves come waltzing in right now!

I want relaxation! Pronto in fact!

Help! Where am I? How is that possible?

Did anything happen?

You want to take me for a ride, you stupid Schmock?

We have just been teleported. How is that possible? Help!

Stop!

Stop!

Back home already? What is for dinner?

Please, dear Rüdiger, stop it! Spare me! How the hell is that possible?

»You have to try the impossible to achieve the possible.«

Dear Rüdiger, quoting Hermann Hesse. I didn’t expect you to be so literate. Chapeau!

Dearest Franz, »people like you who achieve nothing

on a small scale tend to imagine they’re born for greater things.«

Dearest Fritz, »education is not achieved by reading but by thinking about that which you’ve read.«

Him.

Oops! My gosh! I have an incredible fear of heights! No! Help!

Shut it, you couple of twits. Relax and enjoy the view!

Please, dear Rüdiger, I’m so afraid of heights. Oh, no...

Mon dieu! Phew! Much better already.

Whoops! Has the little one gone beddybies again?

I wa-wa-wa-want to kiss-iss-iss-iss-iss you.

May I kiss-iss-iss-iss-iss you?

Cut!

Stripling, You’re doing my head in, mate. Is your smug sucking really necessary, you old nincompoop?

- You’re screwing it all up once again. - Jeez, Schorsch, why this tone of voice?

Shut up, you good-for-nothing.

Love, you on the other hand, you’re full of grace and beauty. Pure eyecandy.

Shut your fucking face, you cunt!

- Aye, alright then. So we’re continuing, aren’t we? - Without her, or what?

- Yes, I need a dandelion. - Alright! - Just a second!

- Yeah, just a second! - Come on! - Yeah

- Sound? Sound is rolling! - Just a second, Schorsch! - Now just wait a second!

Fuck you!

- Camera? - Camera is rolling!

And action!

I want to kiss-iss-iss you.

- Oh, well! . You are so amazingly beautiful!

I’m sorry. What the ...? He’s buzzing off! Yeah, just go have a drink you tit!

- Cut! - I love you...

Where am I? What?

- You won’t believe what I dreamt, dear Fritz. - Enlighten me, then.

I dreamt Rüdiger can actually teleport. Ridiculous, isn’t it?

Yes, hilarious.

Gentlemen, I hope you've had a calm and relaxed day.

Wake from your warm slumber now

and mush, home, before the darkness falls over you.

Have fun.

This can't be true!

»Home is where the carpet is.«

- Help! Someone help! Stop it! - Did you proclaim anything, dear Franz?

- Someone help! Stop it! - Screaming won't help, Franzi.

Someone help! Stop it!

I hope you've had a swell rest?

Yes, yo! Let us swiftly climb step 3 of my award-winning zest-stimuli therapy.

Motto of this gorgeous, soul-easing morn is »stimulatio«, in plain language: stimulation or stimulus.

Could he mean sex? Finally.

»Stupidity, dear Franz, is the most invincible force on earth.«

Please adorn yourselves now with the Seelenfrieden leisure suits of glee

that I designed and tailored for you personally myself.

And that shall be handed over to you by my chief lackey Rüdiger in a few blinks of an eye.

Pray follow him to my personal Garden of Eden subsequently. The body has to breathe.

Yes! Bye Bye! See ya later! Yours, Doc Young

This is inconceivable! I won't... There's my taxi, finally. Now those plonkers are cottoning on to it.

- But, where are the darn slaves, and where is Fritz's taxi? - Go! Giddy-up! Go for it!

- Go! - Are you high, mate? That's my taxi. Get out of my taxi!

Giddy-up, wankers! You wankers, you slaves.

- Go! Giddy-up! - Dang! Cut! Over! The end! This sucks, I'm going home!

- Cut! Stripling, you stay where you are! You're bonkers, eh? - Schorsch, please.

This scene was excellent and you botcher ruin this great take with your dimwittedness.

- I should whip you. I should whip you in the face. - Goddammit, shut your bloody face you fat fuck.

I don't want to shoot this pathetic crap. You can do that with yo momma but not with me.

And what's with these embarrassing slave costumes?

- And I'm sweating my arse off. - I don't get that either. - But it's perfectly obvious.

Well, listen to me slowly: All humans are slaves against their will.

They are born slaves and they are slaves when they snuff it. They are their own slaves.

They are the establishment's slaves. You're slaves as well.

The film industry's slaves. Humans are slaves...

Oh, Schorsch, oh, Schorsch, you rare little bird.

You are the pride of your species, indeed.

Schorsch Maria Bollerhuber, born in 1970,

is a formerly celebrated stage director, screenwriter and film director.

In 2016, at his stage career's actual peak, completely surprising

and most incomprehensibly for the public at large,

he turned his back on the theatre in spite of top-class offers

and took to the film branch overnight.

Much against anybody's expectations, he immediately landed two international blockbusters.

His latest couple of films, on the other hand, were pure box-office poison,

deemed pseudo-avantgarde smoke and mirrors by critics and derided by the viewers bar none.

Ever since, nothing has been able to get him off his habits of drinking, young women and dodgy sports bets.

As if this wasn't enough, he has five illegitimate children from five different women on five continents.

To cap it all, as his last film was costly enough for him to run out of financial means for alimony,

he had to move from his renaissance villa in »Schorsch-Maria-Bollerhuber-Allee«

into his 83-year-old mother's place to live in her garage.

All this might approximately explain his slightly eccentric, grumpy and prim ways.

- Here you are, Schorsch. - And that is precisely what I want to tell in my film.

You are slaves. Brainslaves. Capice? Comprende? Claro que si? Okay?

- Yes, okay. - Yes! Okay... - Okay! So, on your marks, then.

- Sound? - Sound is rolling - Camera? - Camera is rolling! - And action!

Giddy-up! Come on! Giddy-up! Come on! You Wimps!

Franz, get off of him now! Stop it at once! Franz, get off of him now!

- Are you nuts? I am just trying to get us free! - Shut up, I can’t bear this spectacle any longer.

- What spectacle? - Damn, how can I explain that, Franz?

- What do you want to explain, Fritz? - Franz, come with me.

- I have to make a confession. Come! - Fritz, you are scaring me. - Yes, come, Franz.

Fritz, what do you want to tell me? You are scaring me.

I lied to you, Franz.

You lied to me? How? What do you mean?

I am not sick. I just made that up, so you have that therapy.

Fritzi, you are my brother. The only person I can trust in this terrible world.

And you are shamelessly deceiving me like that?

Franzi, I am really sorry, but I was terribly worried about you.

And not only me, but all our friends, too. You seemed so desperate and lonely of late.

And we were absolutely certain you would never do that therapy of your own free will. So I made it all up.

You are all completely mad! I will never forgive you!

Franzi, I am really sorry. From the bottom of my heart. But you have to understand that it is only for your best.

Everything will be fine, Franzi. Just trust me.

Trust you. For my best. You are completely bonkers, you stupid sod!

This place is utter hell! Dear Fritz, I can’t bear it any longer. You have to get me out of here.

I can’t go on. I can’t bear it anymore. I am going mad. I can’t go on... what?

- Follow me, please. - No. No way.

Please, please dear Fritz. Please don’t do that to me. I will do everything you want.

I will even stop being the smart-arse all the time. I will always be nice from now on.

But please, dear Fritz, deliver me from evil.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen!

I am sorry, Franzi. You have to go through with it. It is all for your best.

- Rüdiger, perform your duties. - No, please don't!

Hello?

Fritz?

Rüdiger?

Hello, where are you?

Come the bloody hell out, now! Fritz? Rüdiger?

I am so afraid. I can’t go on. I don’t know what to do. I am so afraid. I...

I don’t know what to do anymore... I am so alone.

Who might you be? You sweet little doggy.

I feel so very lonely. Will you be my friend? I will call you »Harry«.

My dear Franz, You don’t have to be afraid. I am by your side. I am your friend.

Why! You can talk!

My dear Harry, you don’t know how good it feels to have you by my side, my dear friend.

Yes, that is frequently the case, isn’t it, Franz? You know what I am thinking? Fear is no disgrace at all.

We all are afraid. But you have to face your fears. You have to see them as strength and protection.

Erich Kästner once said: »lf one has no fear, he has no imagination.«

And how right he was. So don’t worry, Franz. Be free and live!

You are a pretty wise dog. Thank you for your cheering words, dear Harry.

You know, I am, I feel lonely so often and I think nobody wants to know who I am and what my true feelings are.

No, everybody only wants to see the cheerful, good-looking, smart Franz,

who can do anything, who is something special.

But, you know what, Harry? I don’t think I am special. I am a simple human being.

And I want to be loved unconditionally as the person I am.

- But who are you, Franz? - Yes, who am I?

I am a little, a lonely, a very sad boy,

who had to watch his parents jump over the cliff and who hasn’t yet overcome that pain.

And therefore hides behind this terribly embarrassing mask of hedonism and narcissism.

Dear Harry, you, I think I can tell, I am using the narcissism as narcosis.

My dear Franz. Thank you for being so open to me.

You know, you are a very, very courageous, decent and precious human being.

But you have to learn to love yourself.

Yes, there is no reason in the world not to love yourself unconditionally.

You know, how should anybody else love you, if you don’t even love yourself?

Yes, that is the key to happiness.

Oh, my dear Harry. I feel a lot better already. What you just said helped me a lot.

But, you know, after all these serious words, I would love to go for a walk with you.

- Just a little stroll, for recreation. Would you like that? - Oh yes, my dear Franz, I would love to.

Yes, Harry. That is what we will do. Come!

Look out, Franzi! Behind you!

That is tickling-ling-ling-ling.

That is tickling-ling-ling-ling.

Stop it-it-it-it. That is tickling.

Tell me, do you love me?

Yes, I love-ove-ove you-ou-ou. But it is tickling-ling-ling.

Tell me! Tell me!

Yes, I love-ove-ove you-ou-ou. But stop tickling-ling-ling-ling...

Stop it! Yes, I love you!

Who are you? Stop it already! Stop tickling me!

- Catch me! - You are so gorge-orge-orge-orgeous!

- Stay-ay-ay-ay he-e-e-e-ere! - Catch me!

You-ou-ou-ou...

Stop it! Please, stop it!

Stop it!

Stop it! Help!

- Good morning, dear Franzi! - What's happening?

You survived. Congratulations, you can be proud of that.

Not everybody makes it, I've heard. You can be proud of yourself.

Make him stop. I can't take it anymore!

I hope you've had a more than excellent rest.

- My dear Franzi, it's just for your best. - It's too much for me!

Gentlemen, please rid yourselves now of your morning robes' tenderness and pray follow me

onto the fourth step of my unique and award-winning zest-stimuli therapy.

I cannot handle it anymore...

Cut!

Err, you have to put way more hate into the characters. Just like Schorsch wants it.

- Yeah, alright! - Yeah, where is he by the way? - He's in bed.

- What in in bed? - He's in bed? Great, he hits the sack with some whore

while I'm sitting in the fucking surf, chained and somehow bloody.

He just needs his sleep.

Right, he needs his sleep and you'll need your face smashed in, you wanker.

- Now fuck off, we're continuing. - Right, calm down. - Fuck, but I find that bloody irritating!

- We'll just do this and then it's fine, alright? - Yes.

- I'm sorry but... - Yes, I'm sorry, fuck you, and on we go.

- Okay. Take your positions. - We're in position already, obviously.

- Sound? - Sound is rolling. - Camera? - Camera is rolling. - And action!

»lt's better to be loved for who you are, than for who you are not ...«, no, the other way round.

»lt's better to be hated for who you are, than loved for who you are not.«

»A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.«

This wonderful, peaceful and sunny day's motto is »inter agere«, in plain language: »interaction«.

Today's the day of great conquests!

And bear in mind: »Love has many faces«.

Interact. Stroke.

Do you want me to fall in love with a sheep or what?

»Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask)«

Go. Stroke, you Schmocks!

- Interact. Watch. Be telepathic, and feed. - Now you want me to fall in love with birds, eh?

Tweet. Tweet. Tweet. »lntelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.« Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.

- Go! Watch, be telepathic, and feed, you Schmocks! - Oh, it's really cute.

Gentlemen, I've got a little surprise for you now.

Boy, I'm so excited. Here we go!

What fucking surprise? The Town Musicians of Bremen or what?

I want to die!

Franzi, »Something better than death you can find anywhere.«

That's the woman of my dreams!

Pleased to meet you, milady. My name is Friedrich Balthasar Freudenthal. Enchanté.

- Marie-Estelle Antoinette Chevalier. Enchanté. - That's the woman of my dreams!

May I present to you my spoilt half-brother: David-Alain Bonaparte Forestier.

- That's the woman of my dreams!

Please excuse my brother's boorishness. He has a rare disease.

What? Disease? You sod, you blooming sod, I'm not ill at all. That's the woman of my dreams!

Franz, what's the matter with you? Did you forget to take your medication?

My medication? You blooming sod! That's the woman of my dreams!

My dear Franzi, please calm down

Everything is going to be just fine. You will see. Everything will be fine.

- I even brought you a little gift. - A present? - Yes. - Yes.

That's Harry! Harry, where have you been? I missed you so much!

I am very pleased you are enjoying your gift. But who is Harry?

Him! This here is Harry! That's my dear Harry.

I haven't got the faintest idea what you are talking about, but again:

I am utterly pleased to see you're enjoying the gift.

»He's gone to the dogs!«

Cut!

Genius! Love, you're fantastic! You're the bomb!

My dear Schorschi...

fuck you!

- C'mon, go have some chicken, or a donut! - Right, okay.

- Shut up, you cunts. - I didn't even say anything. - Shut your gobs and back to work! Hans!

- Apropos, let me spell it out for you: - Here you are, Schorsch. - Put much more hatred into the characters!

You have to mentally wreck those disgusting creatures

and squash them until they burst and their guts are all over the wall...

Hang on, that's a beautiful image for the ending!

Yeah, that's a marvelous final shot for my film. A veritable Schorsch Maria Bollerhuber finale, innit?

- You're called Bollerhuber, are you high? - It's alright now!

- Gee! - Okay, alright? - Okay, alright! - Okay, okay!

- On your fucking positions. - Thank you, Schorsch. - And fucking sound, please! - Sound is rolling.

- Fucking camera? - Camera is rolling. - And fucking shit, action!

- That's Harry, my dear sweet Harry, Harry, Harry... - »He's gone to the dogs!«

Cooey! I hope you're having fun, one and all?

Please follow my chief lackey Rüdiger to my personal garden of Eden.

He took the liberty to dress a delicious picnic for you in the chic dappled-shade. Foody, foody! Have fun! Kiss!

Cooey again! I hope everything is to your utmost satisfaction?

Now please be so kind as to drink in one go five large shots within one minute

and smoke as much as humanly possible.

Subsequently please turn your attention favourably to the slips of paper I lovingly inscribed and folded for you.

On your marks, ready, go! Here we go! Have fun! Toodle-oo!

Oh, how enchanting, graceful and cute at the same time!

Mon Dieu, if only all humans were this immeasurably rotten.

I would have much less work to begin with.

But now for Doctor Immanuel Young. Mon Dieu! What a Schmock!

And don’t even get me started on his chief lackey Rüdiger.

Prof. Dr. Immanuel Young, born in Baden-Baden in 1980 under the name

Michael Jürgen Müller.

Harvard, Tokyo...

Made a career. Boring.

In 2016 he became owner, chief therapist and mediator

of the aforementioned luxury rehab and therapy resort

»Seelenfrieden-Island«.

He’s the winner of the Psycho Analysis Genius Award of 2017

and has a reputation as being distinctly charismatic and charming.

Rumour has it, however, that no human being

has seen him face-to-face in two years.

Allegedly he underwent facial surgery and only works incognito.

Other mysterious sources contrarily report that one of the three

world-leaders of multimedia companies acquired the resort underhand

and for reasons of economic viability got rid of Doctor Young

in a charming but nonetheless deadly manner.

By using stock recordings, the corporation

now tries to maintain therapeutic appearances

in order to squeeze money out

of unwitting loaded world citizens with blunt package therapies

motivated by nothing but greed.

Les jeux sont faits. Everything is possible.

The decision is yours. Tandaradei!

- Finished! - What? Already? You were cheating! - No, I wrote down my wishes.

The three wishes I wish from that wish.

So, listen! First wish...

unlimited beauty.

No change there.

- Very good... - Second wish...

Unlimited wealth! No change there either!

- Very good... - And now, attention. Here is my third... hey, listen!

- Hello, you should listen to my wish! - Yeah!

Wish number three: No plane, you fuckface! Silly plane!

My third wish is a very important wish. So, listen carefully:

World peace.

Impossible!

Oh, là, là, Miss Estelle-Marie.

Okay, it's my turn. My turn...

Okay, my first wish is:

I would like to fuck.

No change at all! Number two...

- I want to booze and smoke! - Yessir!

Wish number three: My dears, it's a serious one, and so I ask you for silence.

- Right. - Wish number three: I want to stop the hunger in the world.

- Well,... - Impossible! - ... now it's me:

I am perfectly happy. I already have everything.

No, stop! Just kidding... Wish number one: Read a lot. So, no change.

- What a drag. - Wish number two: Smoke a lot. No change.

Wish number three: Franz will become smart in the end, after all!

- Unbelievable! - What? You swine! You bloody swine!

- You are a swine... - It is only for your best.

- Dear Franz... - You are a swine. - Yes, poppet. - A swine.

Poppet. - Yeah... - Yes...

Well, and now to you Dävid-Alain!

- Now to you... - Dävid. - Dävid-Alone.

- Yes, I have to do that. The Schmock is not talking. - What? Why? - He has silence.

- He has silence? - Yeah! Give me that. - What did he write down?

Well, David-Alain: Wish number one, eternal silence on earth! Yes, no change at all!

Wish number two: Eternal isolation!

- No change at all! - Come on, there is a lady at the table. - Wish number three...

wish number three: Death to my half-sister.

You little fucker! You little bastard should have never been born!

Bravissimo, my dearest!

How charming, delightful and cute at the same time.

You did that just wonderfully.

And on we go, my dears.

Pair up with a partner and dance like hell with your little feet.

Here comes the music! Here we go! Kisses! Mooaw!

Please chillax!

Chillaxez-vous

The body has to breathe!

So! Hands up, you swine! Stop this charade.

Marie-Estelle, she is the woman of my dreams.

I love you, Marie-Estelle.

Marie-Estelle, she is the woman of my dreams!

Congratulations! Toutes mes Felicitations! Herzlichen Glückwunsch, you have made it!

What the fuck?

All your elemental emotions are active again and fully functioning.

Did you feel it? You are able to feel again! You love again! You hate again!

You are healed!

You are a healthy person again! Celebrate! Pop the corks!

I will be with you in a mo and present you with the holy medal of Seelenfrieden.

Thank you so much, dear Professor Doctor Young! I am healed!

Good evening, dear Franz. My name is Professor Doctor Immanuel Young. Congratulations.

Brilliant! Brilliant! My little cunts! Brilliant!

Yay! A wonderful film! Thank you! Brilliant!

Yes, we did that quite well, didn’t we?

Wake up! Wake up, you Schmock!

Somebody turn this thing off!

Turn it off, please!

Wake up! Wake up, you Schmock!

Turn it off.

Turn it off!

Turn it off! Stop it!

Turn it off!

Turn it off!

Turn it off!

Turn it off! Stop it!

Stop it! Turn it off!

Stop it! Stop it!

Stop it! Turn it off! Stop it!

Stop it! Turn it off! Stop it!

Wake up! Wake up, you Schmock! Wake up!

- Wake up, you Schmock! Wake up! - Turn it off! Stop it!

Franzi, my dear! Finally you are awake. Dinner is being served already. We should get back to the hotel.

Yes, wait one more minute, Fritz. You won’t believe what I just dreamt.

Oh, let me guess: You had one of your conspiracy theory visions of the future again, Count von Nostradamus?

Is it my fault, that I am Nostradamus incarnate?

Believe me, sometimes I wish to be an ordinary person. As ordinary as you. And as boring.

How do they say: »Pride rides out on a horse and comes back on foot«.

Touché. And how do they also say: »Humor starts, where you stop taking yourself too seriously«.

My esteemed Misters Freudenthal. I wish you a happy new year 1920.

- How nice of you, dear Rüdiger. Thank you, Rüdiger. - Thank you, Rüdiger.

May I offer you a new year’s tipple?

- Of course, thank you! - Spiffing! Thank you very much!

Wait one more moment, Rüdiger. You won’t believe what I have dreamt.

I have dreamt of a film shoot in the year 1900... nonsense. I have dreamt of a film shoot in the year 2020

and the plot was as follows: I was a patient in an absurd institution,

and you, dear Rüdiger, were the chief lackey but also the therapist.

Let me tell you, when the world will really be like that in a hundred years,

then I am glad I don’t live in the future.

- They even re-introduced slavery. That is unheard of! - That’s a scream, isn’t it?

Gentlemen, dinner is being served. If you please.

- Here is to you, dear Rüdiger. - Cheers.

»Culture is a thin varnish, easily dissolved in alcohol«.

How true, how true.

- Come with me, dear brother. - But certainly. With pleasure.

Oh, my sweet Harry!

Funny we should meet here. I just dreamt of you two.

My dear Franzi,

dream on.

Cut!