All language subtitles for Antonias Line (Antonia) (1995).EN

Even before the sun had risen,
Antonia knew

that her days were numbered.

She knew more than that,
she knew that this would be her last day.

Not that she felt unwell.

But unlike others

Antonia knew when enough was enough.

She would call her loved ones
to her bedside,

to inform them of her imminent death,
close her eyes and die.

Farmer Bas would make
her coffin himself.

Russian Olga would lay her out
with her customary discretion.

There would be nothing to be ashamed of.

And her great-granddaughter
would not leave her death-bed,

would like to know about
the miracle of death

and embrace her beloved
great-grandmother.

Yes.

It's time to die.

She got out of bed to begin
the last day of her life.

A film by Marleen Gorris

Is this it?

Yes.

This is it.

Don't think much of it.

Nor did I when I left 20 years ago.

It hasn't changed.

This village may not be much,
but at least it's quiet.

- Were you born here?
- Hmm.

Soon after the war, Antonia returned
to bury her mother.

But it turned out that she was
still very much alive.

Bastards!

To hell with you!

Shitbag!
Shameless thieves!

Rotten swine!

Just so as you know I know!

Do you think I'm blind?

That I don't see you're shafting them
in the alley behind the church?

- You godforsaken rat!
- Completely ga-ga.

But difficult. Always has been.

You hypocritical filth!
Shitbag!

But she's got a point.
Her father was a dirty old man.

Used to feel them up all day long.
He's been dead for 30 years.

Mother, I've come back.
How about that?

I came as quick as I could.

This is my daughter Danielle.

Get out of my sight, you demon!

You two-face, ruthless,

drunken degenerate adulterer!

You wicked, wicked man!

Antonia?

Olga!

Antonia?

Yes, Mother?

Late

as usual.

Like your father.

Amen.

Rest in peace, Mom.

Although it's very unlikely.

This is Chiel, the blacksmith.
I used to go out with him.

Hi Chiel!

He's grown old...

That's Crooked Finger's house.
He's an old friend.

How did he manage to survive the war?

That's Mad Madonna.

She bays at the full moon.

She drives the Protestant wild.

He'd prefer to be rather on top
of her. In more senses than one.

Come on.

That's the Café of Olga the Russian.

Her other professions:
midwife and undertaker.

This wall serves as a toilet
on Saturday night.

The smell the next day
bends nails.

Ah, the nuns!

They're still not extinct.

It's all a load of rubbish really.
But that's the way things are in here.

So, the prodigal daughter's come back, eh?

Clever observation.

Or are you as blind as dumb?

Still as mean as a wasp and ugly, too.
But you've a well-shaped daughter.

Here, my two sons.

Pure-blood stallions,
ready for breeding.

Just right for this girl of yours, eh?

Olga, a gin please.

My daughter's up for offer too,
going for a song.

She may not be the smartest,
but she's strong as a sow.

Her trousseau's been ready for years.

Deedee!

Deedee, come here! Come on!

Inside!

For Christ's sake, are you deaf?

Let them have a look at you.

A solid wench, no?

Anyone wants to take her?

Excuse me.

Hey hey!

Where do you think you're going?

Drink up and shut your face!

And so Antonia and her daughter, Danielle,
returned to the cradle of their ancestors.

The two women settled into
a pink house

and had so little to do with the village
that the villagers eventually accepted them:

just as they did a bad harvest,
a deformed child

or the self evident, though unlikely,
omnipresence of God.

But one man was happy
with Antonia's return.

Since the war ended,
Crooked Finger refused to leave his house.

So Antonia visited him instead,
and she took Danielle with her.

Remember walking in the woods together?

Those woods hold lots of memories of us.

- How's your wife doing?
- Fine. Fine.

Well...

Get a move on!

Come back, you ungrateful bastard!

You miserable swine! Come back!

Although the mind of Loony Lips usually
worked more slowly than most

it did not take him long to decide
to follow Antonia.

Farmer Bas was was a newcomer. He had only
lived in the village for 20 years.

This complicated his dealings with
the other farmers. But not with Antonia.

Not bad for a priest!

Hurry up, you idiot!

Hurry up, you goose!

Retarded Deedee lived with her mother,
father and two brothers on a farm.

The men's loud voices rode roughshod
over the women's silence.

Ma, where the hell are my Sunday shoes?

Have you seen my shoes?

Huh? What?

Very generously proportioned was Cora.

Before Mass on Sunday she got sauced
on her bath-tub gin.

Pushing her dung-cart and roaring
with laughter,

she wove in and out of the churchgoers.

Bertie's buried there.
His father was in the cloth trade.

Crooked Finger, Bertie and I
were best friends.

Bertie was in the resistance,
hid a Jewish family in the attic.

He was betrayed to the Germans
and they were all shot.

And guess who was too scared
to give him the Last Rites?

Anyone at home?

Is anybody here?

Hello.

I wanted to have a word.

What about?

About you and me...

About marriage.

I thought that ...

you being a widow and my wife dead...

You are a good-looking woman ...

My sons need a mother.

But I don't need your sons.

You don't?

No.

- Don't you want a husband, either?
- What for?

You can come round from time to time.
There's the odd job we can't do ourselves

and I'd be grateful if you'd lend a hand.

What's in it for me?

A cup of coffee, fresh eggs, vegetables.

I've got all that myself.

Okay.

I'll think about it.

Boys, behave yourself!

Watch it!

Farmer Bas became a regular visitor.

Antonia gave him her affection,
but for the moment no more than that.

- I've come to get your saw.
- It's in the barn. I'll get it.

Don't bother. I'll go.

Damn you!

Wait!

Hush now. Hush.

I'll bake you a lovely cake...

Hold still!

and soon you'll have a nice bath.

Tomorrow we'll buy you new glasses.

As usual, the villagers knew everything.

But they were as silent as the grave
Pitte had nearly filled.

When his wounds had healed, Pitte left.
No-one knew for where.

"Birds of a feather flock together" Antonia said.

And Deedee and Loony Lips
found each other.

Has Crooked Finger seen this?

He's only interested in books.

This isn't any good.

I've got such a lot to learn.

So Danielle went to art school.

And she was happy.

Days turned into weeks, then into years.

Antonia planted,

Danielle painted,

the fields turned green, then brown.

- Heave!
- Okay.

Mom?

- Mom?
- Huh?

Mom, I want a baby.

Whatever gave you that idea?

A baby?

How about a husband to go with it?

I don't think so.

Choosing a villager will mean trouble.

The farmers here only breed sons,

and they can't see further
than the back end of a cow.

Take deep breaths!

Through your nose!

In a few months we'll go to the city.

And there we'll find you a father.

What's this?

Seems like a house for fallen women.

I doubt if these'll ever get up again.

Let's go!

Come in!

Sit down.

Nothing better

than being pregnant.

This is my second time. And believe me,

it's not the copulation or

the kids that come out of it

but the carrying and giving birth
that makes it worthwhile.

It's the most beautiful thing on earth!

We urgently need the services

- of a man.
- A man! Who doesn't?

Just to get me pregnant.

I don't want him into the bargain.
All I want is a child.

He doesn't have to know about it.

What the eye doesn't see,
the heart doesn't grieve about.

In that case, I'm with you.

Here we go.

Nice bike.

An Adonis!

What does he do for a living?

Good breeding?

He's family!

Once more. Come on!

Did you see stars?

Did I have to?

- It helps...
- It's not essential.

- Wow I'm hungry.
- That's a good sign. -Yeah.

We're a fertile family.

Letto, it was a real pleasure. You know
where to find me if you need me.

- Come on.
- Go and have something good.

- I see you're really lucky.
- Apparently. - Yes!

He was considerate.

...corruption that has infects us all.

Of such, Peter, the rock upon whom
the Church is built, warns:

"Them that walk after the flesh in the lust
of uncleanness and despise government."

"Presumptuous are they and not afraid
to speak evil of dignities".

The kingdom of the Jews fell through
Jezebel and her cursed daughter.

More the shame that these are women!

They should set an example

by humility and obedience,

and teach their daughters chastity.

Let them repent

lest they be cast into hellfire
at the day of judgment!

Farmer Bas realized there was
only one solution:

Blackmail.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph!

... and Our Lord said unto them:

"He that is without sin among you
let him cast a stone at her."

And just as her accusers left,
convicted by their own consciences,

so we must think of our own transgressions
before condemning others.

Let us also remember that salvation
came into the world through a woman.

No one seeks her protection or help
in vain.

Nor should we forget the lesson
read on the feast day of a holy woman:

"She openeth her mouth with wisdom;"

"in her tongue is the law of kindness."

"She looketh well to the ways
of her household,"

"and eateth not the bread of idleness."

Danielle gave birth to a daughter,
and called her Thérèse.

And so the years passed.

Antonia and Danielle

took Thérèse on their visits
to Crooked Finger.

It seemed Thérèse understood Crooked
Finger better than Danielle ever did.

Imagine moving to another time scale,

so that a lifespan of 80 years
would be over in 29 days,

or last 80,000 years.

- Time ...
- But what about time?

Did we invent time?

Yes, we made it up.

Perhaps ants live in their time...

- And crickets...
- A bees...

- And butterflies...
- And the trees...

- And stars...
- And the moon!

Finger, you smell!

That, my dear,

...is the smell of time past.

And Finger and Thérèse enfolded
each other in their hearts.

Thwarted in love by the dogmas
of their different faiths,

the Protestant remained as far
from his Madonna as the moon she howled at.

The Priest left the church because,

as he put it, he could not reconcile
his enjoyment of life

with the Church's enjoyment of death.

I'm free!
I'm free!

Deedee!

Some years ago you asked for my hand.

You still can't have my hand.

But you can have the rest.

After all these chaste years
I've got the urge again.

How about once a week?

Perhaps more often ...?

Once in a while...?

Should the need arise...

If the need arises, we must
give that serious consideration.

And not in my house or yours. That's much
too hectic for people of our age.

The seasons repeated themselves.
Time gave birth again and again.

and with complete contentment
produced nothing except itself.

Try this. It's very juicy.

Letta!

Pregnant again?

What number's this one?

I have nowhere to go.

Children of the future, remember that
I did my best... Come on in.

This is Simon, my eldest.
Take off your cap!

And this is Arletta.

Is that...?

Yes, that's my daughter Thérèse.

Poppet...

Haven't I grown?

Spittin' image of her dad!

How's my father?

Fine! He's married to a horribly ugly
girl with a heart of gold,

buckets of common sense,
and a brewery. He's very happy.

- Who's that?
- The Priest.

He has left the church.

God bless you, ma'am!

I should hope so too.

The Priest lovingly knocked her up
every year,

and they lived happily ever after.

- Since when can you do additions?
- Since I was three.

- Who taught you?
- I taught myself.

Crooked Finger helped a bit.

How much is 147 times 48?

7056, of course.

Square root is 84.

The square is 49,787,136.

I regret to have to tell you
your daughter isn't normal.

- I'm a child prodigy.
- I fear you are.

This is Lara Anderson,
Thérèse's teacher.

The First Grade's teacher, I mean.

She's responsible for 30 children...

- It's a challenging task.
- Quite.

Thérèse is far in advance of
the others.

It creates problems,
she needs a lot of attention.

I suggest that you and I,
and possibly others

take responsibility and give Thérèse
extra tutoring besides her normal lessons,

which I shall adapt accordingly.
What subjects are you good in?

All the colors of the spectrum.
She knows everything about painting.

She's not a bad carpenter, either.

Crooked Finger will help.
He knows more than is good for him.

Philosophy, poetry, comparative religion ...

Logic. The exact sciences.

I suggest two or three hours
extra per day.

Is that suitable?

Is that suitable?

To begin with.

What time is she coming?

Didn't she say after dinner?

That's now!

Perhaps she eats late.
Perhaps she doesn't want to come.

Was it today she said she'd come?

Yeah.

Does she drink coffee or tea?

How should I know?
Stand still or sit down!

Hello.

Hello, Thérèse.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Reverend Mother says
that God created everything.

But she won't ask herself
who created God.

The tragedy of those who believe in a God
is that their faith rules their intellect.

In my experience, religions
often cause death and destruction.

But we were discussing Plato.

Isn't it terrible...that nothing exists?

That's why there's so much.

- Have you ever eaten artichokes?
Shall I tell you how? - Yes.

An Artichoke is is thick and round
and green.

The leaves are fleshy and soft. First,
boil the artichoke in salted water.

Then, peel off the leaves, one by one,
dip them in a vinaigrette sauce,

then scrape off the tender flesh
with your teeth until you reach the heart.

The heart?

Yes, the heart.

- And what do I do with the heart?
- You savour it,

bit by bit, with your eyes closed.
It's a delicacy.

- The whole thing is a delicacy.
- Yes, all of it is a delicacy.

Am I going to have my lessons or not?

And then love burst out everywhere.

I can't sleep!

That year Mad Madonna died of
a broken heart.

The Protestant soon followed her.

"Force of habit," said the villagers.

"They did not share a table,
they did not share a bed."

"Now they simply share a grave."

Farmer Dan fell from the harvester
and broke his neck.

After 15 years of absence,
Pitte returned to claim his inheritance.

Money, money, money.

Look who's here!

Ladies...

- Who's that?
- The devil. Open the door.

Thérèse grew up with Simon,
Letta's eldest son.

He loved Thérèse, and would continue
to do so all his life.

- Simon's in love!
- Simon's in love!

Thérèse soon discovered

that thought needed more than just brains.

Her love of music and mathematics
provided for the needs of heart and head.

She limited herself to those subjects,
and became an authority in both.

Your essay has undeniable merits,

but it exceeds your assignment's limits.

I specifically stipulated two pages.

You wrote five. So it's insufficient.

In our discipline it is essential,
an absolute necessity...

Let me put it this way:
"Mastery reveals itself in limitation."

Since you can't distinguish
quality from quantity,

I can only come to the conclusion
that you are incompetent.

Up the truth!

Up the revolution!

Up your!

In those enlightened times
Thérèse was raped.

By Pitte.

Drinks are on me!

Beer for everyone.

You got something to celebrate, then?

Are you all right now?

Try and sleep.

He isn't here.

Stand up!

Outside.

And quickly.

Stop!

- Be reasonable...
- Shut your mouth!

If you move, I'll shoot.

If I had it in me to kill someone,
I would kill you.

Instead, I'll curse you.

And my curse will haunt you forever.

Silence!

If you ever return,

my curse will savage you to death.

If you ever return,
my hate will destroy you.

Your bones will break,
your tongue will erupt with pus.

If you ever return,
the water you drink will poison you,

the food you eat will fester inside you,

the air you breathe will rot your lungs.

You will beg in vain to be released
from the torment that is your punishment

for raping a child.

Help me...

Janne was now lord and master.
And he liked his new role.

The village buzzed with rumours,
but no one pointed an accusing finger.

They were glad to be rid
of the dearly departed.

They're going to perform
my composition.

Are you glad?

I suppose so.

Come on, shh.

The world is a hell,

inhabited by tormented souls and demons.

Schopenhauer?

The proverb is wrong.
Time does not heal all wounds.

It merely softens the pain,
and blurs the memories.

The years passed.
Thérèse reached the age of 20.

We can assume that the singular chain
complex of the empty set equals zero.

With theorem 5.8 this implies
that n-th homology group

is the same as the
n-th relative homology group,

if we take subspace
as the empty set.

Now we can construct a functor from the
category...from the category of Top 2

to the category of chain complexes.

Define the functor S* as follows:

S* sends ordered X.A
to the singular chain complex

of the space X divided by
the complex of A.

She experimented with a few intellectuals,
but found them wanting.

Our neo-capitalistic society
reduces socialist alternatives

to non-material adjustments
of formal behaviour.

Humanity is an intersection
of relationships,

which is the initial premise.
Relationships are disturbed,

because society itself makes
healthy relationships impossible.

In a male female dialogue,
property becomes a basic drive

whose survival value only exists
because society guarantees it.

Their self-indulgent blather
insulted Thérèse's intelligence.

Nor was she compensated physically.

What did I do? What did I do?

And Thérèse, who was used to best,
refused to put up with this.

Simon, Letta's eldest son,
was not Thérèse's intellectual equal.

But their childhood friendship ripened
into love and this contented her.

Will you marry me?

I love you Simon, but marriage
would be a mistake.

I can't give you enough attention.

But we make such good love.

That's why.

I think I'm pregnant.

Pregnant?

Yeah.

Do you want it?

- Of course she wants it!
- Of course she doesn't.

- Sure she does.
- She doesn't.

- Of course she wants it.
- No, certainly not.

- She'll have it.
- She won't.

- Yes, she will.
- No, of course not.

- Yes! - No!
- Yes! - No! - Yes!

Well?

I'll have to give this serious thought.

Haven't you any pity for this child?

Wouldn't you rather save it
from the misery of life?

Or at least not to burden yourself with
the cold-blooded crime of giving it life?

This is not time for Schopenhauer.
This is important.

I don't know how you can do it,
bring another being into this world...

this rotten world...

Thérèse and Simon had a daughter,
and called her Sarah.

What a beautiful girl.

With red hair, like her father.

Thérèse's reception of her baby
left a little bit to be desired.

But Simon explained why.

I regret to have to tell you, Sarah,
but your mother isn't normal.

Time flowed.

Season followed season, tumbling over
one another as if in their dance

they wanted to end the exhausting
round of birth and death.

Finger, this is for you.

You thought we'd forgotten,
didn't you?

Now you can start on Sarah.

We can...

read Nietzsche together.

Finger, why do you never go out?

(quotes in German)
"The best thing of all is not to be born,"

"...not to be, to be nothing."

- "The next best thing is..."
- Stop it, Finger!

"...is to die."

Look at me!

- Very nice, darling.
- Look! - Yeah.

Sarah! What happened?
Did you fall? Let me have a look.

Let's go inside for a while.

- What happened?
- Fell from a swing.

Great-grandmother!
Great-grandmother!

Look! Read what I've written!

But Deedee isn't dead yet.

That's why. So she can read it now.

Deedee! Want to read this?

It's for you.

"Poem for Deedee, dead and gone."

"Deedee is a grey dove, old and lovely."

"I'm glad she's not dead."

"Because when she dies
I know I'll miss her a lot."

"Because after Great-grandma,
Mom, Lara,"

"and my Grandma, Deedee is the dearest
woman in the whole village,"

"in the whole province,
in the whole country,"

"That's what Deedee is
now she's not yet dead."

Lovely! Lovely!

I'm going to write some more,
great-grandma.

Almost as if Sarah's poem
had given Death the idea,

suddenly a lot of villagers died.

Letta had given birth to 12 children
with the greatest of ease.

The thirteenth was fatal.

Damn!

I did so want to continue.

The Priest left for the city
with his 12 disciples,

and became a social worker.

Janne received a well-aimed kick
from a much maltreated cow.

Loony Lips died in a tractor accident.

And Deedee was inconsolable.

And still the tragedies were not over.

"My dearest Thérèse,"

"It is absurd to believe that
the constant pain afflicting us"

"is there purely by chance."

"On the contrary."

"Misery is the norm,
not the exception."

"Who can I blame for our existence?"

"Not the accident of the sun
which gives us life."

"I accuse myself, since I don't believe
in God or a hereafter."

"If I did, I could delude myself
that life promises"

"a heavenly dessert after
an indigestible main course."

"I have never been able to accept"

"the common misconception that
everything one day will be better."

"Nothing will be better."

"At best or at worst,
it will only be different."

"I no longer want to think..."

"Above all else, no longer think..."

Mom...

Hush, now...

Thérèse became more and more withdrawn.

But Danielle reacted to her daughter's
grief with rage.

Where is Crooked Finger?
Where's everybody?

Crooked Finger's body is burned

and his ashes scattered on the earth.

But...

Nothing dies forever.

Something always remains.

from which something new grows.

So life begins, without knowing
where it came from

or why it exists.

But why?

Because life wants to live.

Isn't there a heaven either?

This is the only dance we dance.

Which of us is going to die first?

If I have my way,

I'll die first.

But I'm not intending to right now.

I'll tell you when the time comes.

Don't worry, I've still got
years left in me.

Thank goodness!

Deedee.

There's nothing for it.
Life's got to be lived.

Time conquered Time.

Although not as many children
were born as in Letta's day,

there were enough
to keep the world turning.

Sometimes Time crept slowly onwards
like an exhausted tortoise.

Sometimes it tore through life
like a vulture in search of prey.

Time took no choice of death or life,

decay or growth,

and love,

hate

or jealousy.

It ignored all those things

which are so important to us
that we forgot Time.

Don't you feel well?

I'm going to die.

Now?

Today.

I promised I'll tell you.

How awful!

Yes.

It's not easy.

Go and fetch the others.

Please.

I won't die before you come back.

Even before the sun had risen,
Antonia knew her days were numbered.

She knew more than that,
she knew this would be her last day.

She would call her loved ones
to her bedside,

inform them of her imminent death,
close her eyes, and die.

Farmer Bas would make
her coffin himself.

Russian Olga would lay her out
with her customary discretion.

There would be nothing
to be ashamed of.

That's Mad Madonna.

She's calling me to play outside.

Her daughter Danielle
would bottle up her grief,

which would later explode on canvas.

Her granddaughter Thérèse would not
be able to prevent herself wondering

what was the exact volume
of Antonia's last breath.

And I, Sarah, her great-granddaughter,

would not leave the death-bed
of my beloved great-grandmother,

because I wanted to be with her
when the miracle of death

parted Antonia's soul
from her formidable body.

And as this long chronicle reaches its
conclusion, nothing has come to an end.