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We're out of soap.

- That was Amber. - Amber?

The co-director from Gagosian. The gallery.

She offered me a job.

In New York?

- What the hell do they want me for? - What job?

To travel around, scouting the market for them.

New European art.

I have my own gallery, Peter.

- New York? - Yeah.

New York? Ditte...

Live in New York?

Long, long ago

Ditte's great-grandfather

Werner Rheinwald

went from Germany

up to Denmark

and established

Rheinwald's Bakery

Werner's son Otto Rheinwald

developed the family's sense of

QUALITY

and Otto's son

Richard Christian Rheinwald

refined the proud family traditions

and made the Rheinwalds purveyors to the Royal Danish Court

Richard married

took over the family mansion

and had

Ditte Rheinwald

and Chrisser Rheinwald

Richard was divorced

and met Sanne

They had Line Rheinwald

and Werner Rheinwald

4 children who all know

what bread is supposed to taste like.

A FAMILY

Hi, Eigil.

I've just come to get some bread.

Hi, Daddy.

Darling Ditte. Hi.

- You're working? - I'm a baker, aren't I?

Hi, Sanne. Has he been at it all night?

I can't keep him at home.

The Hilton called. They want logos on their jubilee cakes.

- Have you seen the Queen's card? - What's she up to?

She sent her purveyor a get well card.

Who'd have imagined the Queen would offer that any thought?

- How does she know you're ill? - Court gossip.

How nice.

Here's some milk.

Have you heard from the hospital?

They'll write in due time.

Your hair's growing back like crazy.

The chemo worked, Dad. It did.

- One or two? - Two.

It's baked with Luciano wheat, so it has a nutty taste to it.

- Richard. - Coming.

Let me know what you think about it, boss.

Yup.

I keep promising you'll have it finished in a couple of months.

- What? - What?

- It's got two lines. - Yes, it's got two lines.

- I thought we were playing it safe. - Oh, you didn't.

- I've gone and knocked you up? - Yes.

Say something.

What about New York?

Yeah, what about New York?

Can we have both New York and a baby?

I'll be flying all over the world.

It goes with the job.

It's either or.

We have to choose.

The children will be so happy.

Yes.

We're going to get married.

- We're going to get married? - Hell, it's about time.

We've got the two little ones anyway, so let's do it.

Do you want a ring?

You could propose properly. Propose properly.

- For Christ's sake. - I mean it. Propose properly.

Bla bla bla, bla bla bla.

Yes or no?

I'm seven weeks pregnant. What are we going to do?

Let's go into denial for a while.

I'm really pregnant.

What are you thinking?

- What are you thinking? - When did Amber want your answer?

Now.

- Okay, I'll call you. - Bye.

Hello, healthy Daddy.

I went to look at the x-rays today.

They said: "Richard, there are no signs of illness."

Fantastic!

Hi, Sigurd. I brought some bread for you too.

- It's Simon, Dad. - Simon. Didn't I say that?

Now, that's what I call art.

You want to make one like this for Daddy, Kejser?

Let's celebrate, Dad.

I'm going to marry her.

We have two children, after all.

She's been a real trooper. Wiped my chin and my ass for a year now.

She never whines.

She deserves to have a good time now.

We're going to do it at the registry. No church wedding for me.

- And then back home for lunch. - How many are you inviting?

Just you kids and your Picasso.

So, do you want me to be your maid of honor?

You bet.

Daddy.

I can't believe he's getting married.

- And he said he'd never marry her. - You're right. He did.

- But oh no. - No... Chop this for me.

Then she moves in, bears him two children -

- and makes avocado with shrimp on fancy occasions.

- Are you putting rye in that dough? - I use Mom's recipe. Don't tell Dad.

- She just texted me. - Chop the artichokes, Chrisser.

They took Kiwi to the vet's. He had a thrombus in his ass.

- I'm serious. - No.

Peter, come here for a minute.

- What? - Peter, fix me and Chrisser a drink.

We've got a lot to celebrate. Don't we?

- Like what? - Dad.

And New York.

What about New York?

We're moving to New York.

I've been hired by Gagosian.

It's this cool gallery, Chrisser.

What does Dad think about this?

He doesn't know yet.

Maybe I can fill in for you as Daddy's girl then.

- So we're going to New York? - Yes.

- You're sure? - Yes. Aren't we?

- Huh? - Yes.

- New York. - Let's do it.

We're going to New York.

- Are you okay? - Yes.

It takes a couple of hours for the pill to work.

Ditte?

Open the door, Ditte.

Open the door. Now.

Ditte...

Open the door, Ditte!

Amber e-mailed me.

She wants me to start as soon as possible.

They're going to try to find an affordable apartment for us.

Jason promised to see, if anyone could fit me into a studio.

We're doing the right thing.

When my daughter's sick, she gets coffee and cake.

It's the season's first strawberries.

- I've got it. - Smell.

Your grandfather loved the strawberry season.

He always popped down to sniff.

You should've known him.

A flour sack under each arm, and off he went.

50-kilo sacks, you know? He was strong as an oxe.

I need to talk to you.

- You're pregnant? - Cut it out, will you?

Okay. What then?

We're moving to New York.

I've been offered a fantastic job.

New York?

Why do you want to do that?

You're not sick anymore.

I'm going to put the gallery on hold, and...

We want to see the world, Dad. Live life to the fullest.

I just don't get bagels. Too heavy and dense.

It's a huge gallery, and I will be in charge of European relations.

And donuts? What a sorry excuse for pastry.

It's soon, Dad.

As soon as possible.

What does Mom think about this?

She doesn't know yet.

You'd better get well by Saturday.

Your maid of honor will be ready.

Good. I'm counting on you.

Hurry up, Vimmer. It's time to throw the rice.

Hurry! Throw the rice!

Congratulations! Hooray!

Congratulations, Daddy.

- Chrisser... - Smell this.

- Hello! - Aw!

It's beautiful.

- 8 kilos. Laurent and Eigil made it. - It doesn't come any better than that.

- I guess we just... - No, the groom has to make a speech.

The groom's speech.

- Sanne Rheinwald. - That's me.

You've nursed this baldie for a year without a whimper.

That's what I call a wife.

You took the rough, now it's time for the smooth.

All good things are both rough and smooth.

Be it champagne or bread.

The acetic and the lactid acid bacteria fight a rough battle.

The rough by itself is too coarse.

The smooth by itself is too insipid.

You could call it the American disease.

Sugar in burger buns, and liver paté with sugar.

You may puke now.

But not here. Not in this family.

We're Rheinwalds, and we want to have our cake and eat it too.

We want the rough and the smooth.

We want champagne, we want tasty bread -

- and we want to eat our friggin' cake.

Here's to the Rheinwalds.

- Cheers. - Congratulations.

- Okay, Mrs. Rheinwald. - Now what?

Now we're family, Ditte.

We sure are.

Whoa, Daddy.

- How do they fight? - Who?

- The acetic acids and the others. - The lactid acid bacteria.

- Can you see them fighting? - No, you can smell it.

Natural fermentation has them fighting for dominance -

- and makes complex-tasting bread.

- Cool. - Let's have a sniff, Vimmer.

What do you think, baker boy?

He's got cerebral tumors.

I can't live without him. I can't.

Come to bed.

He's my dad.

I don't understand.

You're saying it's spread, and I have three cerebral tumors, but...

We have to get them out.

As I said, they're so deep-rooted that we can't remove them.

We can use radiation therapy, but only to ease your pain.

I want them out!

Yes, but we can only ease your pain.

Those are the harsh facts.

I was cured.

I have a letter that says so.

I doubt anyone used the term "cured".

We stated that your lung tumors were gone.

I want surgery.

I want you to remove these new tumors.

We are all well aware that it's a hard fate, Richard.

Fate?

A doctor talking about fate!

I want to go home. Get my clothes.

- No. You're seriously ill. - My clothes, now!

Think I want to stay in your hellhole? First I'm cured, and then I'm ill.

The place reeks of bad food, and all your nurses are ugly.

Richard, we'll send Sanne home now and give you a sleeping pill.

You're not going anywhere, baker girl!

You'll see Sanne again tomorrow. Now you rest.

Sanne...

You're forgetting to eat the cookies, Vimmer.

Did Dad get the bakery when his dad died?

Grandfather took over the bakery when Great-Grandfather died.

And Dad took over the bakery when Grandfather died.

You go first.

Who's going to get us, if Mom dies too?

Me and Line... Are you going to get us?

Sanne isn't going to die.

But she smokes and eats a lot of meat.

Sanne isn't going to die.

See? There she is.

- Hi, Mom! - Hi, darling.

Vimmer, go find your textbook.

- Thanks for helping out. - You're welcome.

How did it go?

- I don't know. - What did they say?

They're going to try radiation therapy.

Sanne!

You're no Rheinwald!

Will you please go pay the cab, baker girl!

My house! My bakery! My money!

Line should walk the dog.

Yes.

You work your ass off night after night to bake decent bread -

- and this is what you get? This bullshit?

Four kids, and not one of them can bake a decent loaf of bread!

- I'm going to drop New York. - You're healthy. Go to America.

Off you go. Go see the world, live life to the fullest and all that.

- Go to America. - I'm not going!

They can't do a thing.

And you want to stay here?

What for?

You're my father, and I want to be with you.

What for, Ditte?

Huh?

Sanne?

I'm going to leave now.

Okay?

I've talked to the hospital. He needs four different kinds of pills.

- Do you want me to pick them up? - I told them to send them in a cab.

He has to have someone with him around the clock, if he's staying here.

We'll work out a plan.

I...

I don't know... I can't...

- I can't stay with him all the time. - I'll help.

I have to go to work every day. I have to go to the bakery...

- I have to mind my job. - Of course.

And somebody has to drive him to radiation therapy.

We'll work something out, okay?

What if he has those fits again?

He's on medication now.

I just don't want the children to see it again.

I have the children to think of.

- They can't rule out the fits. - We'll just have to help each other.

- I don't want the children to... - All of us.

- It's just... - So long.

Line.

- Sanne! - Line.

Sanne, where's the remote?

Jason thinks he may have found me a studio in Brooklyn.

Or Williamsburg, but it's still Brooklyn.

It's the coolest neighborhood.

Patti Smith lives there.

- What's up, Ditte? - I have to call Amber.

- I can't go. - You don't mean that. You're a mess.

- I can't go. - You don't mean that. Don't call her.

You're not calling anything off. Don't call her.

- Get lost, Vimmer. - Can I sleep in here?

- I said, get lost. - I keep having bad dreams.

Congratulations.

Dreams about animals who want meat.

I'm your little brother.

Unfortunately.

- You're going to burn in hell. - Shut the door behind you.

- What are you doing? - Well, if that ain't my daughter!

You did call and ask her to come.

Eigil still has another ten good baking years in him.

Yes.

But he can't put two words together. The old fool can't add and subtract.

No...

And Chrisser... Well, she's Chrisser.

She can answer the phone, and that's it.

Sanne runs the bakery girls, Eigil sees to the bread and the ovens.

Yes?

You handle the rest. You negotiate with the suppliers -

- charm the customers, and see to it we maintain our quality.

I want you to carry on Rheinwald's Bakery.

Dad...

Didn't you say you're here for me?

Didn't you say that this New York business doesn't matter?

I think I even heard you say you'd put the gallery on hold.

- Dad... - How else will the bakery survive?

Huh?

Ditte Rheinwald.

Pattycake pattycake baker's man...

- It's not just any old bakery, Peter. - You can't be serious.

We're purveyors to the Royal Court.

We use a sourdough my grandfather got from France. It's 300 years old.

And your great-grandfather walked all the way here with a sack of grain.

Our bakery is special. You don't sell it to just anyone.

- Not if you have a daughter like you. - Most bakeries use one basic dough.

We have 18 different kinds.

Don't you get it?

- Who are you? - Stop it.

- No, who the hell are you? - Stop this, Ditte.

Sometimes I don't know who you are.

Stop it. I'm your boyfriend.

I'm an artist. You're a gallerist.

We're on our way to New York, end of story.

Ditte, I've got the studio in Williamsburgh.

I've e-mailed Lisa, and they're dying to sublet our apartment.

I called Amber, Peter.

I told her I couldn't take the job.

Stop that crap!

Stop it!

You called Amber, because you want to be a baker?

Should I go live in New York and leave him to die here?

- Line. - What?

- Where are you going? - Out.

No, come here.

Come here.

- You have to walk the dog. - Later.

No. Get in here.

- You walk the fucking dog. - What was that?

I said, you walk the dog.

Are you stupid?

Poor, poor you.

What's going on?

I clipped her one.

Don't you hit my children.

- Do you hear me? - They're my children too.

Touch her again, and you're going back to that damned hospital.

Don't threaten me in my own home!

I mean it. Do you hear me?

I'm going to see Kirstine's new series. She finished it already.

- So, we're not talking? - I don't know. Are we?

What?

You could've talked to me before you called the whole thing off with Amber.

- Talked about what? - About what we're going to do.

- But I'm not going, so... - Oh right, you want to be a baker.

Maybe you could've asked Amber, if you could start later.

- What the hell are you saying? - What I'm saying.

- To book tickets for when Dad dies? - I didn't say that.

How would his dying on the 6th suit you?

Cut it out, Ditte!

I have to be with him, okay?

I have to be with him, if it drags out. I just have to be with him.

He's my father.

Well, excuse me.

But we sort of had an abortion for that job.

- Hi, Mom. - Hi, honey.

- My battery's running low. - How's he doing?

- He's home. - That's good.

And how are you doing?

I don't know.

- I'm trying to get a handle on things. - Meaning?

He's got it into his head that I should run the bakery -

- with Eigil in charge of the bread and me in charge of all the rest.

And I don't want to...

You know how Dad feels about that place.

That bakery has nothing to do with you.

No.

Your dad loves you no matter what.

You're the only woman he's ever respect...

I'm running out, Mom.

Hi, boss.

Can we talk?

- Huh? - Can you talk?

Sure I can talk.

I've been thinking.

Thinking hard.

I can't.

You're the boss. You can do anything.

I'm no baker.

I can't.

You're Ditte Rheinwald, sure you can. You're my daughter.

It's just not me.

Who paid for your first apartment?

Who supported your ass while you studied art history?

Who paid for all your fancy trips to Italy?

The bakery did.

Rheinwald's Bakery.

I don't want to.

Well, it ends here then.

- Doesn't it? - Yes.

Right.

- Give my best to America. - I'm not going to America.

Good day to you.

No thanks.

Good day.

I've told him.

I told him I don't want to take over the bakery.

Good.

Maybe you should go on your own.

I've been thinking about that myself.

That makes two of us then.

I'll call you later, okay?

What's happening?

It's the abortion, isn't it?

Yes.

We can't do a thing about it now.

It's gone. Long gone.

I don't understand why you and I couldn't have that baby.

What? We agreed there was no rush. We agreed we were young.

Maybe we're not that young, Ditte.

Maybe you and I shouldn't have any children.

Maybe not.

What a sorry couple we make then.

There now.

Let's walk the dog together.

- Okay. - Come on.

Damn, one minute you can, and the next you can't.

I just need to...

- Screw the dog. - Dad, come on.

Damn it.

Damn it!

Thanks...

I'm sorry.

Richard....

No, no...

I'm going to call an ambulance.

- No, don't you fucking dare! - Yes.

Stay here!

Go back to bed.

Sanne says they can't do any more for you, Dad.

They're talking about sending you to a hospice.

Is that what you want?

Dad.

You have to tell us what you want.

Okay.

I'll be off then.

I want to go home.

I want to go home. I already said so.

Okay.

He wants to go home.

He doesn't want to go to a hospice. He wants to go home.

Sanne...

We'll get a live-in nurse.

He has to go to a hospice.

He wants to go home. We're going to get help.

- No. - What do you mean, no?

I'm not up to it.

Or how do you put it...

I can't.

Dad wants to go home to his house.

- It's my house too. - He was born in that house, Sanne.

Chrisser was born in that house. So was I.

- It's my house too now. - Sanne. Stop it.

I married him. We're married.

I'm his wife.

I say no.

- He has to go home. - I can't take any more.

- He has to go home. - I can't...

- Don't start crying on me. - I'm not crying.

You sure are cut out to run the bakery. You're just like Dad.

- I told him I don't want it. - He never asked me.

I wish he'd just die!

Ditte...

- I had an abortion. - You did?

I was pregnant.

And I had it removed.

- Hi, Vimmer. - Hey, Dad.

May I come in?

I don't want a priest or anything. You talk at the funeral.

I don't want any of the others to make fools of themselves next to my coffin.

Talk about bread.

Talk about the bakery.

And about quality.

Real butter in the cakes. Real cream, real vanilla.

Talk about our being purveyors to the Royal Court.

Don't make a big fuss about it, just mention it.

Talk about Grandfather.

He built the whole thing from scratch.

And don't forget Great-Grandfather.

He walked all the way up here from Germany with a sack of grain.

- What time is it? - Nine, I think.

They're all coming to work now. The bakers.

I don't want to be called Vimmer anymore. I'm Werner.

You're awake.

The children are asleep.

Sleep tight.

You're my father, and I'm your daughter.

I love you.

And you love me too.

- Ditte Rheinwald. - Yes.

I'm going to go home now, Dad.

Good... Now hold on to your father and pull up nice and easy.

I'll lift your father's head.

Good...

Pull the shirt down at the back.

Try to tuck it into his pants.

And then again on your side.

Good...

Can you hold your father there? And then I'll tuck the shirt into his pants.

Do you want to button his shirt?

And place his arms here.

Now turn your father's head slightly to one side.

Like you want it.

Good.

Now we need to put on your father's shoes.

Pull his pants back down.

Now for the sheet.

There.

And up to here.

Fold it over. Just below his waist.

Take the flowers, please.

Place them on your father.

And light a candle for your father.

Come to bed.

Subtitles: Helle Schou Kristiansen Dansk Video Tekst