Original subtitles

THE TRANSMISSION OF LYSISTRATA

Teleplay by Fritz Kortner, based on themes from Aristophanes.

Watch out.

-You just barely missed killing that man. -I'm so anxious.

I would prefer you didn't see me in that role.

-Be careful. -I'm telling you, TV is even more strenuous than film.

-Let alone theatre. -Watch out!

It would be pure luck if we arrived safely and punctually.

It's being aired at 8, and now it's barely 7.

So you mean we have time for a little accident, right?

Don't joke around. I'm very serious.

Just so you know, I play a very lustful role.

-A what? -A very lustful woman.

Seductive, widely coquettish...

and skimpily dressed.

I can hear you saying: "Finally you've shown your real nature."

Well, by that I mean the television. I've already observed that firsthand.

You flirt as others breathe.

"You flirt as others breathe."

You're imagining things.

Uh uh, I'm defending a man who wants a divorce because he cannot account for

his wife's activities.

Even though she, like you, flirts with everyone and everything.

Like me.

He claims her flirting distracts him from his work.

He's a surgeon, and concerned about his patients. I am only for my clients.

You should have married that Salbach woman. She has been married for 8 years!

And doesn't look at any man.

Since she played Lysistrata, she has gotten even more extravagant.

Salbach doesn't have to worry about his wife, and can work.

He can unleash his talents.

-Now he even has an invitation to go to the States. -You see?

Say, didn't we drive past the Salbach's house?

-Yes! -Yes!

Because you're distracting me. Now I have to turn around.

I'm really happy to have you with us.

-You still remember Mr. Salbach. -Doctor. Thank you.

Well, I finally wanted to eyeball one of these teleplays.

It really plays out on one of these small drawing boards?

The person becomes a dwarf!

I like the widescreen. Then the people look right.

A larger-than-life man on the widescreen. He comes across as a real man.

But here on this screen everything is diminished.

Maybe it's reduced to the right size. We aren't much bigger.

What's this Lysistrata about, anyway?

Women fight against the war.

-Who conceived of this piece? -I did.

That'll be the whisky.

-Is Salbach a leftist? -Maybe.

These things exist now.

Unbelievable. But she's a good-looking woman.

-By the way, what's Salbach's address? -7. Or maybe 17.

Don't laugh. It was for sure something with a seven.

-But I'll recognize the house. -You didn't know it when we drove by earlier.

You are a pedant!

They moved, out into the country! So Salbach could have fresh air at night,

since he's in the lab all day.

-What does he do there, anyway? -Propellants. -Aha.

He devised a new formulation, which likely spurred the invitation from the States.

-What is a propellant? -Gas, for instance.

Apropos gas: I don't have anymore.

-Drive to the next gas station. -I can't drive without gas.

-You'll have to get some. -Give me the canister.

It's at home.

It's sitting on top of the Salbachs' address.

-Good evening. -Good evening.

May I introduce, Mr. Hellwig, attorney at law, his wife, and Dr. Kienast and wife.

-Good evening. -And you know the Ellingers. -Hello.

You are also in the play?

-I'm so ashamed. -Because it's pacifistic?

-And on top of that, it's obscene. -Oh my. Who wrote it?

-Who wrote it? -Aristophanes.

-A leftist. -There was none in 411 B.C.

Even Christ wasn't.

I'll turn on the TV.

She's so nervous.

Knock on wood.

-Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. -It's about to start.

The announcer is babbling already.

Well, Doctor, when are you off to America?

It hasn't been determined. Let's go over. I think it's about to start.

Come on. The screen is flickering already.

Yeah, the Americans know whom they are summoning over.

But it hasn't been decided that he's going over!

If he stays, I keep a brilliant mind.

If he goes, I'll lose him to a good cause.

To a less peaceable workplace than he has had so far.

Not an easy decision...

...for a man like Salbach.

He'll do it. Come on, let's go home.

I cannot stand this Kienast guy.

Once again, he has a major position!

-I didn't know he was Dr. Salbach's boss. -Instead of the other way around!

Salbach would be the right man to run such a chemical factory!

-No, no, come, let's go. -We can't go now.

You can't have conflicts with everyone and everything.

I can!

The only activity that's remaining for me in this day and age. So, come, let's go.

And seeing me does nothing for you?

Even if it's just a tiny role.

Well, OK, come. Let's go in.

Begin banging the drum over there.

Stop walking in unison with the steps of death.

Don't sleep anymore [indiscernible]

Listen!

...standing in the poet's blood...

..and the tears.

-She's here already. -And we're too late.

-And how my feet hurt! I'm resting here, irrespective of whether Lysistrata,

the easily enraged, is angry at me.

My curiosity prompts me to wonder why, so secretively and at such late hours,

she calls us two, and many others, to the beech forest.

A little longer. I'll follow you shortly.

Tune in to the sound...

...and create life.

Let your hand caress

...as it used to do.

Before it grabs for the sword, shield, and spear.

Don't spear the person.

Come home and beget him.

Don't mutiny, warring map,

...against us women.

Son, don't mutiny against us mothers.

Men, don't mutiny against our wombs.

Oh, Kalonike.

You are late, and yet the first one.

Oh, these women!

I summoned them for such an important reason.

Nobody's coming.

We Athenians invited delegations of women from all parts of the country.

And even from hostile Sparta.

To meet us here and deliberate about important things.

Now they're sleeping and won't come.

We should have invited them to the Pantheon or the Bachus Temple.

For lovemaking.

The women would have crowded in. One wouldn't have been able to get through.

They'll come. For sure, my dear.

Leaving is not easy for women. One has to put the house in order.

Oh, come on. Put the house in order.

If our country perishes, I can't think about waking the maids, to get the

child ready, to wash, to feed, and whatever else.

As our men rip each other apart in war.

We will all be wiped out.

We from Athens, and those from Sparta.

Our enemy, too.

Many a night I have tossed and turned sleeplessly.

And in that process, I had a revelation.

Namely, that the well-being of Greece, of Athens, and of Sparta,

is in our hands - the women's hands.

The country's fate rests in our hands.

Oh, come on. What sensible thing will women do?

Something glorious? We women? The fate of the land lies in our hands?

Poor Greece.

We'll sit there with flowers, cleaned up, made up in a saffron-yellow scarf,

laced-up shoes and dresses with trains.

That's exactly is what promises us salvation.

Who is supposed to understand that?

Explain yourself. Don't speak in riddles.

Be patient until the others have gathered.

Let's see if any of them are approaching.

No one, not even from the coast.

No one from Salamis.

In the morning calm, we commemorate

our men,

whom we long to welcome back from the war alive.

And also those who are no longer.

He's dreaming of his wife.

Do you have any idea why she has summoned us here?

Only vaguely.

She wants to end the war with veils, make-up, and transparent garb.

That can't be the reason we were called here.

She says, in the lonely night, in the desolation,

she tossed and turned in bed.

-I do that, too. -Yes, but who still thinks under such circumstances?

Not I.

I'm burning with curiosity to hear what a beautiful, loving woman,

like her, conceived of while lying in bed all alone.

You two, listen!

They're coming!

Lampito, how happy I am to see you close up.

You look enchanting.

The TV flatters me.

You're better off listening to me.

I will try.

I wonder what they have planned?

We're not bothering you.

I was worried you'd leave me hanging.

Or that you wouldn't find the crossroads at the border.

And so, I welcome you all-the-heartier.

Especially you, Lampito, from Sparta, which is our enemy.

Let me greet you as a sister.

How strong and healthy you look.

So full and voluptuous.

And yet, well-proportioned.

And these arms! They are suitable for my plan.

How tightly can they embrace... and defend themselves?

Feel the muscles.

I do the work of three men. Those at war.

They can soon do their work themselves again.

It's in our hands.

If we all want to.

You must be joking. You think we only have to call to them?

"Stop it, you boors. Quit with the carnage."

And friends and foes will shake each others' hands in peace,

and finally come home to our beds.

We haven't walked for miles to listen to this nonsense.

We thought it was something important,

if Lysistrata - of the prettiest women in Athens, the smartest - summons us.

I'm sure you're all thirsty.

Milk and wine has been provided for you.

Come on in.

You from Phocis, you from the mountains!

I welcome all of you enthusiastically.

Agnes is pouting.

I don't understand it. What does it matter where he makes his fuel? Here or there?

It's not totally irrelevant to him. It depends on what happens with the material.

-But he'll earn so much more over there. -Oh, child!

Can you finally recite what important information you wanted to tell us?

Right away.

Save us your jokes!

-You must allow me a small question. -Ask us what you want!

Are you still longing for your men, who are still out in the field?

-As if we are longing... -I know, not one of you has your husband at home.

My husband has been gone for 5 months...

the poor man. In Trachis.

And mine in Pylos.

More than 700.

But if the Gods hear my prayers,

he's still alive,

and will come back.

And mine, when he comes,

he packs his shield and sword again right away.

And he's gone.

To war.

It's not just the husbands. No, even the paramours.

Almost as if blown away.

Tell me...

Would you, if I told you the means... the war, the husband-murdering,

the nation-destroying, the land-and-people-consuming...

To bring it to an end. Would you?

What can she...?

Let's suppose the antidote exists.

And could be applied by you.

Would you be readily prepared to make heavy sacrifices?

Of course. Any.

I would give away everything I have...

And go on the street to beg. -And I would offer myself to any man,

without having seen him before.

As a thank-you. Until mine is back with me.

I'm with you. I would make love to him day and night.

After so long apart, my husband could be alienated.

My own husband has become estranged from me? What could be nicer?

Left alone without my husband...

I hardly feel alienated from him.

That's why I long for my husband so much.

-Now come out with your remedy. -We're burning with anticipation.

I don't want to keep it from you any longer.

We women, because the men can only be forced to refrain from war, must

force them.

-OK, but how? -How?

In that we, from now on, are abstaining.

From whom? The men?

We must keep the men strictly at bay.

-The men? -We?

We must deny the men.

When they come through here on the march to the slaughter in the south,

and rest here for a short time. -What?!

Our men are coming? Thank the Gods.

I will make him his favourite meal.

Namely me.

That sex is libidinous, through-and-through.

Man, who is addicted only to pissing.

And who isn't capable of anything grand.

Whether there's war or peace; how the state is constituted.

That's your business, too! Not just the men's.

Are you just savage beasts, who beget with your husbands new men for the war?

And beget women, who are nothing more than savage beasts for new wars?

Like common bitches.

Blindly following the husband.

But you, Spartan friend. What do you say?

It's inexorable. There must be peace.

Or soon we won't have a house anymore. And no bed for us and our husbands.

If the war goes on, it will destroy everything!

And destroy our men!

Or brutalizes them, so that their hands only caress you briefly.

And then beat us.

Oh dearest, of all the women, only you.

And if we - good heavens - actually abstained,

would we bring peace to our marriages?

For sure. I swear to you.

We'll sit at home prettily.

We'll walk around in dresses that conceal nothing from eyes of the sex-starved men.

Until our charms, which shimmer beguilingly due to the fabric,

only seem to beautify.

The men, their libidos stoked after long months without.

They'll grasp at us wildly.

But we...we don't want to.

We'll say no.

We'll say we'll negotiate when there's peace.

The parchment of peace will loosen our limbs of the night for you.

And what if the men call our bluff?

Turn their backs on us? What then?

To whom will they turn, my child?

Where's there a woman? That is, if we're all in agreement,

and no one breaks the pledge.

We have to protect the women and girls, pretty and ugly, high and low.

And they'll come to us.

And what if they try to force us into bed?

Then hang onto the bedpost.

And what if he hits me? -Then avail yourself to him.

But coldly, and without any interest.

You'll put him off by tolerating him,

and finding his sexual excitement nauseous.

What he obtains with violence, you haven't given him voluntarily.

The pain of a man's vanity.

It's even bigger than his chest. And he'll leave you alone.

And what if I'm not able to stay cold to him?

Then you have to keep it a secret.

We sometimes pretend to be passionate with a man.

Why not the opposite?

It is possible. -After such a long time?

May the Gods help me. My will is not lacking.

It is indeed possible.

Even with our Spartan men.

If only we could awaken the sexual arousal of Spartan men with the artificial refusals.

Until they are ready to pay. As they do with courtesans.

To make them willing.

Only, unlike the courtesans, the price of our love is the highest of all.

The price is peace.

But I don't trust the Athenians.

They have too much stored gold.

They make ships and weapons out of it.

Even that has been taken into consideration.

Because even now, as we are wasting time blathering,

the strongest women, who aren't as timid as the spoiled women here, are

occupying the castle.

So the gold lies in piles.

The guards, already diminished in number and strength by the war, have been

overwhelmed by the superior numbers of our supporters.

But first, let's swear to the oath of the federation.

Sacred and unbreakable.

Myrrhine, come.

She will recite the oath to you, and you swear to it by raising your right hand.

Never shall a suitor or a husband...

[indiscernible] whipped up in a frenzy of lust.

My knees are buckling.

Does this really have to be?

I want to sit at home unmolested.

Unmolested...

In a yellow scarf, made-up, and nicely cleaned.

Nicely cleaned...

In a yellow scarf, made-up, and nicely cleaned.

I want to place my man in bright flames.

Place in bright flames...

And never surrender so much of myself to him.

Surrender myself to him...

And if he wants to force me with violence.

I will ruin his fun and not move.

And not move...

In addition, I promise to be careful to entice him through love play and flirting,

but not to bring him fulfillment.

Do you swear to all this?

I swear by Zeus.

We swear.

Just go, my dear Lampito. Go and straighten up everything in Sparta.

And the women you brought from Sparta you will leave with us, as hostages.

I am certain they will do their part.

Aphrodite didn't call us ungovernable for nothing.

Well, unconquerable.

To Athens. We're going to Athens.

It houses our heart's treasure, and it's our goal.

We don't need a compass or guide.

We know the way by heart.

Oh, trudging feet, haul in our desire, which gallops far ahead of us,

and is already knocking at the door.

Let us in, oh woman. We don't need a guide to find you.

Let us in, oh woman, otherwise [indiscernible], because we want you first.

Because we want you first, we want you first, we want you first, we want you...

Before the iron battle calls anew.

Athens, from the ocean to land, the miles disappear under the feet.

To Athens. We're going to Athens.

It houses our heart's treasure, and it's our goal.

We don't need a compass or guide.

We know the direction to you, [indiscernible].

We have to get our neighbours.

With buckets of water, we have to prevent the men

from acting on their grisly intentions.

Whoever steals the war from us, he should burn.

We'll pile the blocks and logs all around the women and set them afire.

And if the women don't open the latch at our order,

and show themselves, then we'll set everything on fire so they suffocate.

Cowards become bold when they are in abundance.

One relies on the fighting spirit of the other,

who in turn relies on the courage of the next one.

As a horde they become foolhardy yellow-bellies.

Are we going to allow the hags to say those things about us?

Come on, let's beat them with mallets!

Okay, ladies! Now it's time to pour the buckets onto them!

I'm dousing you so that you will become green again.

The flesh, it already stinks like in a coffin.

Beat the old one to death and get me a young one.

What's wrong? Are you not happy with yourself?

I am, very.

I just wanted to lie down for a moment.

There's nothing more depressing than seeing and hearing oneself.

The depression has a different origin.

In addition.

-Our problems. -Mmm hmm.

Your position is sentimental, personal, unpolitical...

Most effective on stage.

You're just impossible to convince, like all zealots of peace.

In any event, I couldn't go along. -Yes, I have realized that already.

It's hard for me to be against you.

Tell me, did it never occur to you that you, without being aware of it,

don't want to go along because you would have to leave your profession?

At least for a certain amount of time.

I have also thought of that.

But it doesn't play a deciding role.

-You're that sure of your decision? -Yes.

Ellinger too.

And Kienast...

I envy people who are not plagued by doubts.

I am, however.

I have doubts.

I have, in any case, a certain trepidation.

Whether I go to America and make my little contribution,

or whether I stay and give it a miss...I am scared.

You all know everything so precisely. I don't. I have doubts. I'm scared!

I do, too.

Come back. The battle of the sexes is over.

1-0 for the women.

Come.

Come over with me. I mean, only into the other room.

Now the women's evil comes to light.

See, therein lies their wild, desolate dream.

It serves us right, because we entice the women to badness.

And we educate them to be wanton.

Thus, the seed shoots upward.

That we planted ourselves.

Since you let the woman rule the house, now she wants to rule the state.

The kitchen and the stove are their domain,

and if we feel like it, only then our bed as well.

It's the weakness of men

that cedes the reins and the riding to the women.

Yet we are the riders, by the laws of nature and of man.

They are the horses.

We must break them in with whips and spurs.

Put succinctly, we have to be the hammer, and they the anvil.

Yes, but it is the other way around now.

And here we see the consequences. They...

I'm Thracian, and the treasurer of the state.

And I'm supposed to procure sailors, and build ships, and hire warriors,

and pay their wages, so the war can be fought with sufficient forces.

Yet, when the campaign brings the soldiers through here for a short rest,

they find shrews,

who have thievingly grabbed the purse of the state,

and who even want to lure the men from the right way, from the battlefield.

I need money right away. Get me the battering ram.

Try it. They have barricaded themselves.

You won't get into your rooms with lances!

I want to end this mischief.

Push the beam under the gate and lift out the hinges.

If necessary, arrest them.

-You must be totally inconsiderate... -We'll break you in half if you do anything.

Why the destruction? I'm presenting myself to you.

Why the brutality? Bars, no. We have the need for understanding.

You should prepare yourselves for that...this time.

Why don't you try it?

I'll follow your advice, and give directions to build understanding.

Seize her; tie her hands behind her back.

What? You're laying your hands on her?

Wow, I'll twist your intestines...

out of the stuffed body.

What's the matter with you guys? Move it!

Sir...

The influence among the women is growing.

I would advise to negotiate.

Please.

So, now I demand to learn the real truth from you women.

Tell me, what prompted you?

Even locking the castle!

And nailing shut the gates against us.

We had to get the money to safety.

It should not ensnare you to go to war.

The money is the cause of the war?

And the cause of all disarray.

We secured the money from the stupidity of its stewards.

So that the war mongers don't enrich themselves with it,

And don't the hunters stirringly beat the drums of war,

which are just ways out of ill-advised, muddled...

And you've barely started one, and you're already plotting

cabals and weapons for the next one.

Questioners of our resolve.

We are managing the finances from now on.

What? You want to manage the treasure?

And what do you have to say to the contrary?

Don't we manage the finances at home?

In that everything goes through our hands.

Yes, but that's not the same thing.

How can you dare to concern yourself presumptuously with war and peace?

Just listen to me, and keep your hands calm. And stay still.

Someone prevent me from striking out in anger.

They are managing the finances from now on.

Talk.

So, there's a short deadline to gather everyone and come up with an answer.

From here we're most likely to see the men when they reach the outskirts of Athens.

You have sharp eyes, lean legs, so when you spot them, run and tell us.

We always carried it. In the time of peace and in the sorrow of war.

Patient, calm by nature, as we women happen to be.

As you men always desire.

We weren't allowed to make a mistake. That's how you maintained us.

And you were also certainly to be praised.

We saw through you well,

and we anticipated nothing good.

And so, when we sat at home quietly, and it reached our ears how wrong you were

when it came to our nation's fortunes, the most important things.

Then we built up the courage and asked with great sorrow, yet with smiles,

what have we, on the advice of the people, decided regarding peace?

So you say, "What business is it of yours? Just make meals and provide the bed."

"And by the way, I advise you to be silent." So, I was silent.

So, we were silent and, with mute concern, kept the house in order.

Not soon after we heard again that you decided upon even worse undertakings.

And then we asked again, "Tell me, man, what stupid decisions are you making?"

He looked at me vaingloriously and said,

"Stay at the weaving loom, tend to the house and home.

The aptitudes of women don't reach further or higher than that after all,

because you're nothing more than fearful house pets.

Obedient to and responsible for the lionhearted husband.

And the war is the business of the men, not yours!"

He's right, by Zeus! And he said what he had to!

"What he had to."

Why, you blockhead?

To forbid the women their good advice, while they serve you who have bad ideas?

If you are finally willing to lend us an ear,

and to be silent, as we have done it until now and for far too long,

then we women will come to your aid with sensible advice.

You, to us, huh?

This is how one speaks to me, the councilman?!

With the man who wears the crown of creation...

How do you have the moxie to disentangle the wrinkled, convoluted hands...

and arbitrate? How?

It is actually very easy, but it requires the whole group.

There are the men.

Run and let everyone know!

Look, as we use knotted yarn in weaving,

and take it apart, and pull the threads into shape with the spindle;

the one this way, the other, that way...

That's how we think we will untangle the very tangled knots.

The one over this way, the other one, patiently, over that way.

Like the wool in weaving.

You fools think of using the working hand to consider political problems.

To solve, even.

The rubbish!

If you had any sense, you would handle the state business like we handle wool.

So, explain how.

As one cleans the wool of garbage, of filth, while washing, so should one clean

the state here.

Of those who are incapable or conspire with others.

That, which gets clumped up, and weaves itself into impropriety.

Of the corrupt and the favoured. Clean the offices!

That'll purge the state. Cleaned pure.

Like our laundry.

Then get the citizens in, in unified, sensible negotiation.

Create a large-hearted council, and sit in there with allies, friends of the land.

Bring all together, from near and far, and lace them, weave them.

Cultivate a whole out of that.

And then, as one, weave a wool coat for the citizenry.

That's pure women's drivel.

Why do you transgress against the right of man?

Holy since time immemorial, and upheld by everyone.

The war doesn't affect you in the slightest.

Not in the slightest?

You blind one, eh? Is it not affecting us women double and threefold?

We gave birth to the lads.

We sent them armed into the field.

While they're away, we're supposed to enjoy our lives.

And savour the days of our youth. But the war is responsible for our empty beds.

Even if we feel so abandoned, the old maids are even more.

Aging away quietly in their rooms.

That pains me even more bitterly.

And the men, eh? Don't they age, too?

Old? Come on. That's apples and oranges.

Then the man would come home grey- haired! Chooses a nubile young woman.

Yet a woman's destiny is a fruitful Spring.

If she misses her fertile days, no man desires her for marriage.

She sits there and depends on dreams and oracles.

If you can't provide us a better destiny than one that flows from war,

and don't know a way out of all of our difficulties instead of always a new war,

which creates anger. Then get lost, you men!

You're not steadfast, you're war-mongers!

Rigid.

You will soon cause our civilization to crumble into oblivion.

And now, away with the senile old men.

Stares mulishly, like those already dead.

You are of no use anymore for anything that gives us joy.

Their eyes are too weak to untangle the knot.

The deafness of your ears can no longer hear the voice of reason.

These guardians have not only become incapable of love,

but also ill-equipped to speak to human rights and order.

I should be silent for that woman? No, she will be killed first!

Take the mask and be quiet.

Let's go to the market and buy turnips, bacon, beans, cheese, and cabbage.

Come home, make a fire, get into the kitchen, make dinner, set the table,

and put the kids to bed.

How dare you make a boogeyman of the guide of the state!

I'm warning you men.

If we give them even one finger, they'll hang on like burrs.

And they'll be busy with hand and foot, and at the end they'll build ships, sail

away, and attack us from the sea.

Those reckless ones!

If they master horsemanship as well, they will force men into the kitchens of their

homes, and they'll swing onto the saddles and fight like Amazons.

Up onto the horse!

Let's go, ladies, and subjugate the men!

With bindings, buckets, and with punches.

Listen, give me my club!

Where's my club? I'll kill the bitch!

So go ahead and hit!

Look, I'll offer you the cheek.

Our warriors!

No!

They will swoon and fall curvaceously onto their backs in front of the warriors,

and capitulate, [indiscernible].

Listen, I want to tell you a fairytale.

Once there was a youth,

whose name was Melanion.

He didn't want to, didn't want to get married.

And therefore he went to the desert.

He didn't want to, did not want to, get married.

And therefore went to the desert.

In the mountains and forests, he hunted the fox and rabbits.

He braided yarn and nets,

and he kept a hunting dog.

And never came... never came home.

And never came... never came home.

That's how appalling the women were.

That's how appalling the women were.

And yet we don't deem them inferior to us...not inferior to us.

And yet we don't deem them inferior to us...not inferior to us.

Ohhh, we're suffering inhumanly because of our women!

Because of their forming a mob, like here.

Because they hole up in their own house,

forget again their duty to their spouse,

and make a mockery of our dire bodily need.

Point blank, we women are crazy about men. That's how it is.

Oh, yes.

I'm hardly able to keep them from their men.

In the grotto of the God, Pan, I met one who dug herself a hole to flee.

Another one wanted to reel herself up from the castle on a string.

I tore her back by the hair.

They use every pretext to try to get home.

But it's only a few. It's not a multiplicity.

Thank the Gods. Hitherto the old faithfuls were in the majority.

But will it stay like this, if they have to endure more chaste nights?

Look, one is trying to sneak away.

-You, whereto? -I want to go home.

I want to at least prepare my husband's bed, if I can't share it with him.

-Are you going back on your word? -My God, I'll be right back!

-I just want to spread on the bed... -Only you, huh?

-No, the blanket. -The blanket.

You are forbidden from leaving your position.

Disgraceful! Libidinous woman!

We were instructed in the art of war.

Right from the cradle.

And not in the art of peace.

What's going to happen...

if our sexual desires, built up on the fields of the Earth,

remain unappeased because of intractable, wantonly misled women.

Ah, yet another one.

Go back right away. And remember your oath.

By Artemis, immediately. When it's broken I'll be back again.

You want to break the oath?

Not the oath, no. The flax.

I left it unbroken at home.

Unheckled, if you will.

I'm going down.

Lysistrata, for God's sake, let me go home! To Evan.

-What do you have there? -A boy.

A boy.

Sounds so hollow.

Metallic.

We'll find out in just a moment.

A helmet.

That's your pregnancy?

-Do you think the women can endure?

-I'm skeptical. -Don't underestimate the collective will of women.

Even the Southern folk?

Women are women.

Goethe said, "And to cure from one point".

He sure has a lot to say.

Thank you.

You are all lustful for men.

You are shortsighted and don't understand.

The spouses, albeit exhausted by war,

can't sleep due to restlessness.

They wander around,

as if urged on by their thirst for love.

A thirst that can't be quenched with wine.

Hey, ladies, stand firm. You only need to last a while longer.

Oh, Zeus!

An oracle has told me we will win.

If we stay united.

And if we aren't, we will be scolded.

We're wanton...and lustful.

That's what they'll say.

Us!

That's why, with the Gods, I'm subdued. Don't give up.

I'm awaiting word from Lampito that, in Sparta, too,

the men, as ravenous as ours,

are now ready for a peaceful discussion.

A man.

A man!

There's a man running up, stricken with lust for Aphrodite!

My husband...

Kinesias. My Kinesias.

Bewitch him, nod at him, love him. Do everything.

As long as the oath permits it. -Yes.

Let me keep vigil.

Don't let him see her right away. Let him fidget first.

Let's enhance the anticipation.

Stop! Who are you?

I'm coming from the rehearsal.

I ran away. -You're just in time for your scene.

A man...

I was rehearsing with my watch in my hand.

Get out of here.

-Another man. -A slave with the wine. Who are you, woman, who's chasing me away?

-Sentry! -Sentry?

Well then, sentry, call Myrrhine for me. Sentry!

And tell her the war gear and beard are gone.

Myrrhine?

Say, who are you? -Her husband.

-You? -Mm hm. Kinesias.

At your service.

Welcome, my dear fellow.

Your name is not unheard-of here. -Yeah.

Since your wife says it hourly.

My Myrrhine!

Aphrodite? Yes.

Whenever the topic is men, your wife praises you right away.

Kinesias is a man. The others are not.

Are you really such a showpiece of a man?

If you don't believe it, convince yourself.

-I'll get Myrrhine. -No.

No, Myrrhine.

Myrrhine.

I don't want to rob Myrrhine.

I'll go and call her.

I'm suffering from horniness.

Guard! Myrrhine!

Myrrhine! Why are you hesitating?

Sweet wife! Why don't you come out?

I have no pleasure in life anymore, since there's no woman in the house.

If you don't come, I will kill myself on the spot.

Myrrhine.

I brought something for you...

from Cyprus.

What did you bring?

It doesn't get any quieter than this. It's already very quiet.

She is much more beautiful than she ever was!

God knows!

You never looked this bewitching.

Tell me...

How long have you done without Aphrodite's nightly game?

I will avoid it forever,

if you don't finally make peace.

What did you bring me from Cyprus?

I'll show it to you, when you're in the mood.

I love you.

I won't deny it.

What a weak woman I am.

Come.

She is much prettier still,

ever since she has started sulking like this.

-You seducer. Where's the little spot? -There, where no one will see us.

There?

Thus our desperation for love escaped us in sounds.

But then...then I will return unclean to my companions.

You can wash yourself clean in the little creek over there.

That won't wash off my breaking of the oath.

The blame will be mine.

The husband can take on the culpability of his wife.

Take your hand away.

Leave me alone.

How can you treat me like this?

Badly.

You follow your women there and make a martyr of me.

You're torturing yourself, too.

Uh, I think I'll get a jacket.

-Leave it. -By Apollo, no!

In your ardour, you might catch a cold.

Lie down and close your eyes.

I'd like something soft.

The pad. -You don't need anything soft now.

After this hard war it should be soft, my dear.

How worried is the dear woman. Come, let's have a kiss.

We want you first, we want you first...

I should replace that cozy, smooth cot for you.

Ah, how it smells like women!

Myrrhine.

[indiscernible]

-I'm just getting a pillow. -I don't need a pillow!

-But I do! -The pledge is to me as if it were Heracles.

We want you first, we want you first..

Ah, it's so smooth and soft.

And I'm so tired from running that I lie here gladly.

Thank God. Then I have gotten everything, except you.

Now you can undo my bra.

But listen, you keep your word.

Don't forget peace. -OK, if it doesn't work otherwise.

We'll think about it.

The...the blanket is missing.

What for? I don't want to live here.

I'll be right back.

That broad is killing me with her particularity.

Should I rub you with cream? -No!

You come here now! -No.

Ow!

Without cream I don't want you. -I won't let you cream me.

Well, good, then put cream on yourself.

That's a condition of mine.

The cream doesn't smell good.

Rather, it stinks. It's not nuptial.

How stupid! That's the cream to get rid of vermin.

Now I have creamed myself with it, and...

Now I'm starting to feel sick. By Zeus, you stink!

-What am I supposed to do? -Oh, I can't take it!

Poor thing. What shall I do?

Where will I find a woman at this time?

Any woman. A cow maiden.

You must find me too obnoxious, huh?

-Where? -There, on the screen. In that role.

Uh uh, but here.

It's not what you think.

The state laws against which the women are rebelling,

and the marital duties they insist on refusing,

and setting a goal of laying down your glory-soaked weapons with deceit and spite.

As rebels, you should have brought them down with force.

We didn't want to rape our own women.

We're not forcing the love of our women with spears and man-eating encounters.

The highest council from Athens, and I,

executive administrators of decisions that occupy you,

we have emphatically deviated from your considerateness.

Which is so sentimental, that one could infer you are colluding with the women,

and you happily let them force you

to lay down your weapons. Because you're war-weary.

And the lechery that causes you to willingly let the flag fall,

is a heavy disgrace for the state...

...and nation.

I have indicted all women for aiding and abetting enemies of the state, Sparta.

The women from Sparta, whom I was guarding today on the range,

are not there anymore.

Like them, I was overpowered by sleep.

Overpowered. Yes, yes.

When my conscience finally awoke me out of the sweet sleep,

the women were gone.

-Did that happen just now? -No, it was hours ago.

I was scared to tell you.

They judged other women in Sparta by their own standards.

They gave up hope.

They say the Spartans are restrained and cool.

Men and women.

And I depended on that.

And indeed also on Lampito.

She must have known that she isn't to be relied on.

Maybe...maybe she only came here to fool you.

You mean I was a victim of her cunning?

That she treacherously used me to help the Spartans win more easily.

I don't believe it. I don't want to believe it.

That would be the death of me.

New York.

I'll go to my room. Put the call through.

-Hopefully he won't accept. -Not if he listens to his wife.

Those are anti-American activities. It's unGerman.

I must be able to express my opinion somewhere.

In the newspaper, I cannot.

I won't allow anyone to forbid me to talk here.

That's the exclusive right of my chief editor.

I safeguard the rights of my boss.

Are you possibly my boss? -No, thank God. -Well then.

Please have some consideration.

Take consideration. Pfft!

My boss says that, too, and throws my interview with Geisesberg into the garbage.

Too panic-stricken about the nuclear danger.

When you're dead and the congealed blood in you no longer flows.

Our wombs dry up, and so does the milk in our breasts.

Stop the killing and create life.

And what is the news from New York?

-Whether or not I'm coming? -Yes, and?

Yes, and?

If my husband, for whom I have waited for 6 months,

really goes away, and dies

in the bloody slaughter,

and not once have I embraced my lover...

Kalonike, my fleet-of-foot friend,

run to the observatory, look to the south and see if Lampito is nearing.

And report, immediately.

If we keep watching without action, as the war-timidity spreads like an insidious

disease, and infects us...

Since Sparta is not afflicted with such an evil, it might overrun us.

The strength of the women is...

you see, the smart lie is that the women of Sparta also cripple the will of their men,

like our disgraceful women do it behind our backs.

Maybe it will happen after all, only we don't have proof of it.

You say "maybe". I'm telling you, those who won't be infected by the vibrant

pandemic, will be ready, so that when Sparta's nerve is

poisoned, it will be the right time to attack

while it's weak. With double the force and under the protection from the Gods.

Do you want to wait until the cowardly, deceitful Sparta

does to the love- cherishing Athenians

what I am now pressuring all of you to do?

We idiots would be sitting here and waiting for Sparta's freedom messengers,

who would never be sent and would never arrive.

Then we would be ripe for an inglorious downfall.

Everything is pointing to that,

although not without a gap in the argument.

Whether she was hired by secret messengers in Sparta, or was outwitted.

Because she refuses to convert, she must accept the punishment.

High treason follows her.

Bring her down tomorrow. But don't tell her why.

Find a pretext.

Sadly she's right, so the councilman wants to liquidate her.

For a political action, it's very inconsiderable.

Everything is still.

It would be a pity for them.

The whole world is still.

As if it were empty of people.

Only my fear is awake, and asks, "Where is Lampito?"

One victim. We are accustomed to totally different numbers, huh, Mr. Kienast?

I would like to see what the kind of state you support looks like.

And how does it have to look so you can be against it?

For 34 years, you haven't been.

You have your luck with the government women. You like everyone, except for one.

-And you like her. -No, not even her. I don't like anyone,

but especially not the one you liked so much.

-Lysistrata! -Be quiet. We can't even hear the program anymore.

-Lysistrata! -But I would like to see how it ends.

Then I'll wait for you.

But Mr. Kienast.

-You shouldn't take it so seriously. -I'm sorry. Ellinger gets on my nerves.

-Yes, yes. -And this Lysistrata, too!

Why don't you stay? I'll go.

Incidentally, wouldn't that be a role for you, Mr. Ellinger?

How do you find me suitable for that, if I may ask?

Because of my beauty? -No, I don't mean your beauty.

I'm thinking more of your sympathies.

Aren't they identical to those of this very feminine Greek woman?

-Oh, you mean identical to her revulsion of the war? -Yes, yes, yes!

-Oh, and you consider that feminine? -Well, it certainly isn't masculine.

Aha, so you think men shouldn't strain themselves for freedom.

Not to ours.

Whether before, in the middle of, or after the war, or in a pause between two wars,

it's always too inopportune.

I'm telling you, it's high time.

Otherwise we soon won't have any time anymore.

None.

-Why are you so scared? -I'm not scared. Not for me.

I could tolerate even you.

Hey...

I am ashamed of war, and to you love of peace is feminine.

Well, probably every love.

We men shoot, conquer, and want to be loved.

I guess a male pacifist is a kind of freak of nature, a neutered being.

Yeah, these days, "neutral" refers to a person who is an incapable weakling.

In any event, strength is not his thing.

I see. You see it as weakness to believe that problems of mankind can be solved

in other ways than through mutual killing.

-Ellinger... -The inability of a man to find another way out of a clash of

interests rather than to annihilate people.

What idiocy, cluelessness, lack of imagination!

This brainlessness you consider masculine?

These weaknesses of yours are stronger?

Was Christ also weak?

The answer to that will occur to you when it's too late.

Good night. -Ellinger!

You must understand his agitation.

-You see, he lost his position today. -Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that, madam.

But your husband systematically makes himself impossible.

Well, what's taking you so long? And I want to say something that concerns you.

Now I'm getting my wife.

Don't you understand that those people find you off-putting?

They know as soon as they see you. Your face reveals all.

You don't have to say anything.

I'm not allowed to write what I think. You insist that I don't say it, either.

Now I can't even say nothing anymore, because my face gives it away.

What am I supposed to do, walk around without a face? Hell, I'll

take a rocket to the moon. There I'll yell into the air what I think about this world.

And about the occupants of this particular spot.

Hey, don't cry.

I don't want to have a falling out with you, too.

See, I'm a pacifist.

Goodnight, Doctor. -But why are you leaving? -Oh, hell!

What do you think of the whole thing? -By nature, I'm a pacifist,

but this woman has made me a militant!

-But my dear Hellwig. -He's crazy!

He wants to lock me up, like one of those old Athenians.

I take care of the household and the kids. But I don't want to!

I want to enjoy life!

As long as I still have one.

Come.

Goodnight. -Goodnight.

Goodnight.

What are your Athenians so happy about? -Lampito has finally come.

With the Spartan peace delegation. And you're just sitting here!

I just met them. -How come you?

Haha, I meant Lysistrata.

Are you crying?

All this makes me so terribly upset.

Are you sick? You look so awfully pale. What's wrong?

Agnes, you should see a doctor. It's not normal.

I'm so afraid.

I have such a dreadful fear.

Always more destruction. That's what it comes down to.

And if the fear of it makes one choke, that's not normal.

And now you go over and join in. You even contribute to it.

We want to prevent it. I've told you that a hundred times already.

To scare off. -Or to put the fear into. And in the panic, someone strikes out.

My fear started when I was still a little kid.

And then I heard from a worker in a baby carriage factory.

However one assembled the various pieces, a machine gun was the result.

Yes, I remember. That was a joke that was

going around at the time about the secret armaments.

True, but I took it seriously at the time.

And my childhood fear proved to be right. Is it very different today?

Wherever they manipulate, whether fertilizer or fuel, or whatever, it becomes a bomb.

Does everything really have to stop?

After this war, when it comes, there won't be enough survivors to bury the dead.

Where did you get that idea? From the Apocalypse?

No, no. A nuclear physicist said that.

The American.

I'm sorry, but it's too self-indulgent for me.

How these Athenian women behave.

-But my dear woman... -If the fighting had continued, she would be OK...

-Agnes... -Come on, let's go.

My dear Mr. Kienast...

Hey, that's outrageous. You must apologize.

I can't do that.

Well then, come. Let's watch the end and then we'll talk some more, huh?

Like the Athenians, the men in Sparta were also immediately consumed by

the unredeemed, sick heat of fever.

With jumping, running, gymnastics, we women pushed the temptation out of

our hardened limbs.

Until the men's spirit for war subsided.

We women of Sparta will watch that our charges, in their peace-haste,

don't get cheated when it comes to contracts.

Athenian woman, you who have transformed your men into wild bucks,

safeguard them from unreasonable commerce.

When a man is gripped by love mania, he suppresses his rationality.

It disappears from the brain and sinks down.

-That is... -Here's the cup of Hemlock for Lysistrata.

It is ready, sir, as you commanded.

You must be running a temperature, like all men here.

Never, never did I give such a nonsensical command.

Not blame, rather I praise the peace- bringer, who fulfilled my secret wish.

We want to place a memorial for you in the middle of our city.

As soon as the gold is returned to our competent hands.

If, when, how that happens. That we will have to discuss.

In our conference, which I am now opening.

We are always courting your goodwill.

This time in that we are abstaining from sex.

We used peace as a decoy.

We were servants of the Godly intellect, of peace.

Large is the Earth. She is rich.

She is like the mother, who feeds us.

All of us.

Because she can, and wants to.

Please don't inhibit it, you men.

Don't impede it with your juvenile pranks.

The Gods are here. Let us dance and sing.

First the Light God, and don't forget Bacchus.

Don't forget any of the gods.

But ye shall rejoice fervently!

Praise Eros! Laud Eros! He brought peace.

Go with him!

Where is he? Where is my husband.

I won't accept any other!

Where is my husband? Oh, please tell me, where is my husband?

Mine is not back yet.

From Pylos.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe.

Bed, you structure that begets love.

Lifelong you are harboured in our nocturnal bodies.

Until body and love have cooled down,

and our strength dissipates.

Bedsheet, skin's nearest witness,

and discreet endurer of our nightly doings.

You banner of life,

be hoisted. Man and woman will reconcile.

And man and man have united against the flag of death.

Instead of theirs, you will fly, you white sheet of life.

Fly in all directions under heaven.

Fly from north to the south.

From east to west.

Yes, well.

What would Lysistrata have done if Lampito hadn't come - the messenger of peace?

-But Lampito came. -Yes, yes. -After a long wait.

Goodnight.

I can't...

You treated Kienast really badly. And he's so vindictive and limitlessly vain.

OK then, I'll apologize to him tomorrow.

Why don't you call him now?

Kienast allows me unlimited experimental freedom.

And since I'm staying here, I'd like to keep my current position.

-Then I'll call right away. -Yes, by tomorrow morning I could feel differently.

I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing.

My concern for you governs me more than anything else.

Dear Mr. Kienast, I have to apologize to you.

I was so agitated and quarrelsome today.

I am always when it comes to this subject.

Maybe this will make you feel better. Perhaps you can forgive a mother-to-be

her bad nerves.

Yes, yes!

You must understand, one can only contemplate a child or the war.

One excludes the other.

I thank you. Say hello to your wife.

Goodnight.

Goodnight. Good thing I found that out, too.

Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want to use that as an argument.

Oh.

Well, well!