All language subtitles for The.Forgiven.2018

Smile.

Good.

Neil hits him for the six,
a terrific shot,

lands straight
in the cut.

Eldridge fields the ball.

The crowd is really tense now

as it's Tyson's turn

to take up the attack again.

The Typhoon bowls
with avidity

and it's slightly wide...

Today, I'm gonna
tell you a little story

of a witch

who was called Nomahange.

...in a big pot,
and while they're cooking

the witch will sing

Sisiboge!

Piet, Piet!!

It's my... it's my Pa!

Come on.

Don't worry,
don't worry.

I'm going to talk to him.

You little bastard!

I told you not to come here.

Voetsek!

Where is my daughter?

She hasn't been home
since last night.

No.

- Just get out of here.
- No.

- Just get out of here.
- No. Where is my daughter?

No!

Get out of here.

Just get out of here.

- Hi, there.
- Archbishop!

Kefilwe,

I'll be right there!

Oh, you're right,
she is beautiful.

Yes.

When did your daughter
disappear?

She disappeared
three year, Father.

Go on, please.

She go in the night.

She say she very afraid.

She go to see
her boyfriend Osiswe.

She did tell me
that Osiswe

was in the mix
of security police.

Father,

they're not coming back,

not she, not Osiswe,

are they?

I'm gonna to look into it.

I promise.

Blomfeld! Come!

Come, Blomfeld!

- Hey, Blommie!
- Hey, Blommie.

Hey, Blommie, Blommie.

Blomfeld.

Stop!

For fuck sake!

I been searched a dozen
times already, Kruger.

And now you get
searched again, Blomfeld.

You looking
for some hospital time

and a compensation claim, boy?

Come. Walk.

The fuck are you staring
at, kaffir?

Not in my office,

unless you want me to throw this

in the waste bin.

Prisoner Blomfeld,

do you seriously think
the Archbishop

is going to bother
to read this?

Let alone come
all the way out here

to see a convicted
death squad assassin?

Dismissed!
Get him out of here.

Check you later, poes.

Well...

they're right.

The tumor is halted,
Your Grace.

But it's too early
to be speaking of remission.

Only time will tell.

So I can be run over

by a bus tomorrow

and then I'll die
a healthy man.

I heard your interview

on the radio.

Truth and reconciliation
between all sides

would be a fine thing.

But it's too early

for us to be speaking
of remission?

May I have a word
in private, Doctor Biehl,

away from these ears
of this old goat?

She's going to ask you
to ask me

- to rest.
- No. I'm going to tell him

to order you to rest.

When Mandela
asked me to head

the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission,

he gave me a choice

precisely because he knew

I had no choice.

When the President speaks...

we have no choice,

do we, Doctor?

It seems not.

Exactly! See?

Move.

We grant amnesty
to a black face,

we are accused
of being biased;

if we grant amnesty
to a white,

we are accused of being
Boer stooges.

- It's impossible.
- Sise,

difficult is not
the same thing as impossible,

is it, Archbishop?

Two politicians

are deadlocked.

In the end...

one says,

"Look,

I'll admit I'm wrong

if you'll admit I'm right."

"Agreed, agreed,

but you go first."

"Okay.

I'm wrong,"

says the first politician.

And the second politician yells,

he yells,

"You're right!
You're right!

You are wrong!
You are wrong!"

Bish, it's for you

Good people all over the world

are praying for our success.

Well, maybe they need

to pray a bit harder.

Oh, Alex, have hope.

No. You're gonna need
stamina, leading that lot.

Yes. But if
the Commission can weld itself

into somewhat
of a united group,

then there's hope
for the nation.

Is that Blomfeld's letter?

Yes, it is.

Which should have been shredded,

as I advised.

I can't get it out
of my head, Vinnie.

It is... it's so articulate.

He quotes Plato's Republic

and...

John Milton.

It's just...

it's quite engaging.

Don't go to Pollsmoor,

that's my advice.

He's, um, only out
to harm you, you know,

he'll try and destroy you.

Don't exaggerate.

- Don't.
- Father,

he's a psychopath
and a convicted killer.

I know who he is.

Well, then?

No one...

is beyond redemption, Vinnie.

Hmm.

Prisoner Blomfeld,
go to C-Block.

You have a visitor.

- Oh. All right.
- Nice one.

Bloody Hell.

He fell over.

Thank you, Sergeant.

The fucking prison bastard

told me you wouldn't come.

"No way," he said.

But I knew you would come.

I knew you wouldn't be able

to resist it.

Genius.

Well, you are sure

that I would come,

so I'm sure
that you are prepared.

Don't play with me, bru.

Don't delude yourself.

Delude myself?

Thinking
you can get inside here.

Well, then

let's stop the games

before they go any further.

This is no fucking game,
kaffir.

Hey. Hmm.

"Father."

"Father"...will do.

You got to be
kidding yourself

that what's gonna
happen here is random.

I've read all about you.

Studied it.

I've got plenty of time to do

what I need to do.

Mr. Blomfeld,

what is it that you want?

Is it amnesty?

And if it is?

Well, now,

I'm not saying that I can even

consider your application.

But if you want to be free,

from then part of the process

in seeking amnesty...

"Involves making a full

and frank confession,

leaving nothing out."

I know, I can bloody read.

You will have
to seek forgiveness.

You must ask for it.

Forgiveness?

Forgiveness for what?

For offing some black
bastard thieving scum

- trying to steal my country?
- It's our country.

Fuck that! Your country.

What have your people
ever done to build it?

Two years ago,
we had an election.

A free election,

where anyone who wanted

to vote could do so

without violence.

Now, that is an achievement.

That's what helps you sleep
easy at night, is it?

Pride in your achievement,

hmm?

- Listen, boy...
- Uh-uh,

"Father." We agreed on that.

How does it feel...
hmm?...

...colluding with your
former white masters?

Colluding?

- In what way?
- Once a slave,

always a slave.

Your white masters
haven't gone away,

have they?

You're still serving them

the same kak!

Except now it's called

"reconciliation".

You're covering them,

that's what it amounts to.

Come on,

be honest,

it's easy if you try.

We either learn to live together

in this country

or we will die together

in this country.

Well done, kaffir!

You've grasped
the bottom line.

Life is one animal
eating another.

Death is one animal

being eaten by another.

You either have a full belly

or you're in a full belly.

Darwin. Unalterable facts.

The rest is just
window dressing.

Chintz.

We are all God's children.

We are all connected

by a common humanity.

I could tell you a thing
or two about humanity,

about what's buried
in the red earth

of this country, hmm?

About "Disappearing,"

about the "Elimination,"

about the "Unconventional
Operational Methods,"

about "Hit Squads,"
about "Hacksaw".

Oh, yeah.

So you think we share
a common humanity, kaffir?

We are...

all capable of acts
of depravity.

Even you? Yes?

Yes, even me.

Good boy!

Now, the truth: when you sit
on that commission of yours,

don't tell me
you don't feel anger?

Oh, I feel anger.

And you wonder, don't you?

Why God just doesn't

fucking wipe the slate clean

of his two-legged creation?

Sometimes I wonder that.

I feel sorry for you,

mission-school boy.

Turn the other cheek, hey?

To forgive is a choice

made by other ordinary people

much more courageous

- than I will ever be.
- Ah! Come on!

Be a man. Own the fire
in your belly.

- Go for it.
- I refuse your version

of humanity,

and I intend to continue

to struggle...

against it.

How many on that commission
of yours are priests?

Four.

Clever, our leaders,
aren't they?

Forgiveness is fucking baked
into the cake.

Civil war,

which you seem to want,

is not in anyone's interest.

A blood bath
is inevitable.

It's pure.

It's honest!

Out of the bloodbath

emerges the victor.

The stronger, the superior,

who the weak and inferior
have to kneel before.

You'll fail today

or you'll fail tomorrow.

I'm right, aren't I, kaffir?

I can see it in your face,
you see,

I want the war between us

to drag us all
into the bloody vortex,

because the winner
who emerges,

listen to me,

will be white.

Visit's over.

The visit's over!

Why did you ask me
to come here, Mr. Blomfeld?

To offer you the very thing
you thought to offer me.

Enlightenment.

We've been parading

our limitations all day.

So, hopefully we'll find

some enlightenment later.

I have killed.

I've killed lots.

Killed the kaffirs
because I chose to.

Exercised my free will
to do it,

enjoyed it.

So don't you come in here

with your fucking cross

pretending you can love me.

You swear...

too much.

Too right, my bru.

But now I'm inside your head,

staring right back at you

every time you look
in the mirror.

Hatred,

always in you, from now on.

I'm right aren't I, kaffir?

Brutality is the aberration,

Mr. Blomfeld, not love.

Think on that,

no matter...

how uncomfortable
it may make you feel.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Thank you.

Be careful.

He was security police.

Some of them are.

Amandla.

I see now
what your plan is.

Fuck you all, Schmidt.

Open.

Open.

There goes the holiday
in Namibia se Poes.

You said all the records
was destroyed?

There was just too much.

Nobody's going
to find out anything

if you just hou jou bek.

And that goes
for you too, Mosi.

Let me sort this out.

How is it, Chommie?

Long time no see.

I see you got
some new friends.

Can I help?

Yeah, take him
to the toilet,

looks like
he needs a piss.

Where is the Archbishop?

Why?

Because he's not playing
in the sand.

He's busy.

It's hard work.

You need some sun screen.

You might have a long wait,

the Archbishop
is seeing someone.

Waiting is our game, lady.

Waiting's our game.

Mrs. Morobe, Kefilwe,

there must be something else
you could tell me.

Nobody see her
ever since she go.

Nobody knows nothing.

But Mpho did tell me

that Osiswe was afraid.

So, she was frightened?

I tell her, stay in house.

Mpho tells me,

"I'm not Mamparra,

I'm not live like prisoner."

Father,

Mpho did tell me that Osiswe

was in the mix
of Security Police,

afraid of Operation
Hacksaw or something.

Hacksaw?

Operation Hacksaw?

Father,

I'm begging you, Father,

please!

Find me just one piece
of bone

so I can make

a decent burial
for my girl.

I promise,

Mrs. Morobe,

- I promise.
- Thank you.

- Officer.
- Good morning, Archbishop.

Excuse me, Your Grace.

I just want to ask him
a question.

- It's okay.
- Okay.

Can I ask you a question?

It's about loyalty.

Sir,

you served your country
for 30 years,

loyally,

then you witch-hunted.

That's kak, no?

This is not
a witch hunt.

Thank you, Officer.

Excuse me, sir,
Your Grace, just...

I was just wondering.

Do you people think
you're better than us?

And the reason I say that
is because,

let's say going forward,

we get a really
kak president

and those are our bodies
buried there.

Will you still be digging us out

and crying about
reconciliation?

I pray we will.

- I believe we will.
- Yeah,

but you can't guarantee it,
can you?

- Thank you, officer.
- Excuse me.

Listen, lady,
I am an officer of the law,

I can ask him what I'd like.

Excuse me, Your Grace,
I'd like to ask you

one more question.

You tell me,
what good is any of this?

What's... What's buried
should stay buried.

The only thing

that will stay buried

is anger

and resentment.

Don't think you don't need us
on your side,

that's all I'm saying.

There are no sides,

we are one nation now.

One nation?

Hell, we're all going to be
covered in gold

at the end of this rainbow.

Good day, officer.

I'm sorry, Your Grace.

It's okay. It's okay.

No, they've got nothing on us...

It's a klomp kak.

We just need to keep quiet,
keep our mouths shut.

Mosi, come.

So many secrets.

It's like a cancer.

Is it that evil creature
in Pollsmoor?

Don't let him inside,
you hear me?

If I'm the only person
that he's inside,

then it wouldn't be so bad.

Note to self then,
Archbishop,

don't go back into Pollsmoor.

You hear me?

Vinnie, can you...

can you get Oliver
or one of our researchers

to look and to give me
information

on this secret operation
called "Hacksaw"?

Okay.

- ...huh?
- Of course, sir.

Huh, do you?

What do you advise me?

Why Mogomat?

Yes, Benjamin's a bitch.

You a wife.

He's the general's wife.

Please explain to us

the purpose of the SSA.

The SSA, Security police,

its purpose was to extract
information.

We were told
to keep it clean,

but, uh...

Go on,

Mr. Xhosa.

Torture included
the punching of genitals

until blood came, and pus.

Electric rods in vaginas.

Sorry.

Does the name...

Mpho Morobe

mean anything to you?

No.

What about operation Hacksaw?

Mr. Chairman,

I must interrupt this witness.
I have here

a High Court order
of sub judice

that forbids further testimony
of this witness.

Really?

Alex.

Colonel,

do you have nothing to say

to these families?

To David Lyon's family

or...

Simba Goniwe's family.

Families who have
had no news

of their beloved son

or their adored husband

for years.

Do you have nothing to say

that would ease their pain?

That might give them...

closure?

I will say only this,
Archbishop,

we were fighting a war

against communism.

I was battling a threat
to us all.

Communist regimes,

harsh, repressive regimes,

intent on making
Africa theirs.

Colonel,

look at the faces

of these families.

They are your own people!

Colonel, you cannot change

what is over

or where you have been,

but you can change

where you now go.

Mr. Chairman,

I have lodged a complaint
with the Public Protector

to have a declaration
that this proceeding

is a politically
motivated slur

against my client's
honor and integrity,

and that of the SADF.

Really, son?

This farrago...

is alienating a large sector

of white South Africa.

Now, if that was
your intention,

you have achieved it.

And I do not see
how this furthers the aim

of peace
and reconciliation.

Everyone,

we are taking
a five-minute break, please.

Mrs. Morobe,

Kefilwe,

what are you
still doing here?

We're just sitting.

See,

tomorrow,
Mpho is turning 20.

I have candles to light.

Twenty.

You should go home.

When I get news of Mpho,

I will tell you, I promise.

Oh, she was...

always wanting to study.

Perhaps to be a doctor.

She always saved
for books.

Yes.

Kefilwe knows.

How can I pray for her

if I don't know
what happened?

Good evening.
So how did it go?

Interesting.

Well, I see you won't come in
for your cocoa,

so I come out here.

Good night.

This music
always reminds me

of President Mandela's
inauguration.

I played it for them.

They wanted to know
about that day.

But how do you convey it,

that sense of freedom?

That, uh,
that first moment,

the taste of it.

That sweet, sweet nectar.

How do you convey it

to someone who was born

into freedom?

You can't. You can't.

Oh, my dear,
drink your cocoa,

it's getting cold.

Remember...

those jets

flying overhead,

streaming smoke

in the colors
of the new national flag

and...

everybody cheering.

Yes. And you dancing

with that
fat white businessman

like two seals.

He wasn't a businessman.

That's what
I was telling them.

He was Nelson Mandela's...

ex-jailer.

And we were dancing
because...

those jets
flying overhead,

they were ours.

Not someone else's.

Ours.

We were free.

I hope we don't let
this slip away.

Oh, no.

And what is it you were really
thinking about out here,

my dear workaholic?

Hmm?

Mrs. Morobe
and her niece

have been waiting
at the Commission

every day this week.

I... promised.

Mpilo,

with your illness,

you know I've had
mixed feelings

about you continuing
the chairmanship.

Huh? What?

Why didn't you
tell me before?

Oh, Desmond Mpilo Tutu,
you are incorrigible.

There's still some life

in this old goat
yet then, huh?

And I know it's important
for Mrs. Morobe,

for all of us,

this Blomfeld man.

Lavinia wants me
to get you to promise

never to see him again.

She says
he's very dangerous.

She showed me
his letter.

God knows
what goes in his head.

He's very clever.

That doesn't mean that
he should get the last word.

Yes, which is exactly why

I asked Varney
to get you his file.

Know your adversary.

You read this?

Twice.

Leah Nomalizo Shenxane.

We've been married so long,

I don't even remember...

how long.

But every day,

you surprise me more...

and more.

Come, come.

Go over to the goat.

Oh. Yes.

...what do you advise me?

Salute!

Salute.

- Salute.
- Salute!

Salute.

Salute!

Salute.

Blomfeld!

You like my wall, Kruger?

Yeah, I like it.

The kaffirs
are up to something.

You should take the kaffirs
down a peg.

You know what
"Paradise Lost" is, Kruger?

A nightclub?

It's a poem,
you clutch plate,

about me.

Fuck you.

Aaah!

- Down!
- Get down.

Get the fuck down,
you fuckers!

Down!

Down!

Down. Now.

Do you want a fucking lockdown,

- you animals?
- No, sir!

Are there rules here,
you bastards?

Yes, sir!

Whose fucking rules are they?

Yours, sir!

Whose fucking rules are they?

Yours, sir!

Don't you forget it.

No, sir!

Salute

Salute!

You're a man now, Idukwe.

Ex-President F.W. de Klerk

started off with
what Desmond Tutu later called

a handsome apology.

Apartheid was wrong.

I apologize in my capacity

as leader of the National Party

to the millions
of South Africans

who suffered
the wrenching disruption

of forced removals

in respect of their homes,

businesses, and land,

who over the years

suffered the shame
of being arrested

for pass law offenses.

Hansie?

What?

The fete,
Melissa's school fete.

You should come.

They'll wonder why
you aren't there.

...who for a long time were...

Sanette and Jan are coming.

I told them we'd all go
for a braai with the kids.

A braai.

Yeah, let's go for a braai.

I'll say this
for those blacks,

at least their leaders
stand by their men.

...to the millions
of South Africans

who suffered
the wrenching disruption

of forced removals in respect
of their homes,

businesses, and land,

who over the years

suffered the shame
of being arrested

for pass law offenses.

Who over the decades
and indeed centuries

suffered the indignities
and humiliation

of racial discrimination.

The head
of the ANC's legal department,

Matthews Phosa,
remarked afterwards

that de Klerk sat in Pretoria

and knew everything
that went on

in the ANC's Quattro camp
in faraway Angola,

but nothing about Vlakplaas...

So, you're back, huh?

Glutton for it, are we?

So you have whipped that pig de Klerk.
So what?

So,

we are living
in Technicolor.

Now they are saying
that it's time for

the rainbow nation

to unite.

That's what they're saying,
is it?

You, white boy in Hout Bay,

with an up and under
behind the door?

Terre Blanche and the AWB.

You Green and Golds, is it?

Shit, man,
that is buffalo dung.

You know,
Mr. Blomfeld,

when I left here last time,

I didn't just even think,

"Well......
that's that.

It's over."

I have fully,

fully investigated
your case.

And?

And...

amnesty for your crimes

is highly unlikely.

You showed your victims

no mercy,

and besides the...

extreme brutality,

your crimes reveal

no political context.

No political context?

My context,

as you call it,

stretches back
some 300 years.

When my ancestors
were farming this land

and building its cities,

yours were creeping out
of the bush,

trying to murder them.

That's context.

My people were murdered
by yours.

In Zimbabwe.
Yes, I know.

Zimbabwe, South Africa?
Same difference.

Is it?
Is it the same?

I don't know.
You're the expert on context.

You tell me.

Your people

believed in this...

this little
subversive book.

It's a beautiful
little book.

It's my favorite,

which teaches us,

"Proclaim liberty

to the captive,

sight to the blind

and to set
the oppressed free."

That's in Luke 4:18.

Your people...

felt they were being
oppressed

by the British,

they fought back

and they became free.

So you need to learn

from your own history

that when a people

decide to be free,

my dear friend,
nothing,

absolutely nothing

is gonna stop them
from becoming free.

Yes. Very good.

Very high-minded of you.

But there's something
you just don't get, kaffir.

Something you just
do not get.

Killing someone
is never political,

no matter what
anyone says.

Killing someone
is personal.

It's always,
always personal.

It's simple.

You like to read, eh?

Study on this,

"Unconquerable will,

study of revenge,

immortal hate,

courage to never submit
or yield,

what else is not
to be overcome?

Better to reign in Hell

than to serve in Heaven."

Lucifer.

You quoted that poem
in your letter.

So papa was a teacher,
so I'm assuming he knows

it's "Paradise Lost."

And if you don't,
you're just one more

half-educated mzee
in my eyes.

You're a dreamer, my old Hotnot.

I grant you that.

A fucking dreamer.

Dreamer?

Yes.

I, for 40 years,

I dreamed of voting...

freely in a free country

in the land of my birth.

For 40 years,
I've been in the wilderness.

Now, it's finally
come to pass.

There was this one
neutralization

and I was standing there
on this stoep

covered in kaffir brain,
and blood, and shit.

My old head was throbbing

like babelaas...

and after the killings,
we set a fire.

And I could hear this voice
inside my head

as clear as you're
hearing me now,

telling me I had no dreams,

no passion, no hope.

"What is life without
them things?" it asked me.

"I have passion, I have dreams."

I remember shouting back.

And all the boys were there,

Francois, Hansie,
all the Hacksaw boys,

they were watching me
through the flames.

The whole time that voice,

"What dreams, what dreams?"

I had dreams!

I had dreams once, I did.

But you fucking people,
you stole them from me.

How... How old...

were you when you
joined the AWB?

What the fuck is that
got to do with anything?

How old?

Seventeen.

And what has it got
you, Mr. Blomfeld,

33 years of hate?

Fuck you.

It's too much for you,
isn't it?

The Commission?

That's plain enough.

I didn't come here
to discuss The Commission.

You can't forgive
the likes of me.

Breaking your faith,
isn't it, eh?

I have watched the light
of life flicker out and die

behind the eyes of so many
I have done.

That is cock-stiffening,
I can tell you.

I have ministered
to the dying,

and I'm no stranger
to death.

First,
when the knife goes in,

they just don't believe it.

They are in shock.

Then is coming acceptance.

Oh, yeah.

They are grateful,
aren't they?

Sometimes I feel
I can almost

hear them whispering,

"Thank you,

thank you."

So don't you come in here
and pontificate,

you self-righteous doff.

TRC has broken you inside,

made the sham of your faith.

I'm right, aren't I?

You can't forgive the beasts

that you confront every day.

That cancer
is eating you alive.

You are so finished, boy.

Don't you call me "boy"
again, Blomfeld.

Or what?

Under your mask...

you're riddled

with self-loathing.

Easier to...

to be angry at the world

than to be angry at yourself.

I understand.

When they arrested you,

you had this on you.

You hung onto it

for 40 years.

Why?

Visit's over.

What happened?

And don't hide behind

Aristotle, or Plato,
or Milton.

You're right,

you're right.

I have to stare in the mirror

at myself every day,

and so do you.

And you're not... you're not...

you're not a fallen angel

and I'm not God.

We're both just men.

One question...

what do you know

about this Operation Hacksaw?

I said, visit's over, kaffir.

You are locked inside

two prisons, Blomfeld.

One is made of concrete

and barbed wire.

The other one

is worse

because it's there
in your head.

"The mind in its own place,

and in itself,

can make a heaven of hell,

or a hell of heaven."

That's Milton.

So, if you're going
to read him,

don't cherry-pick.

You must read him properly.

What the fuck is that?

That is your way out
of prison.

That could be a way out

of your personal hell.

Come out, Blomfeld.

Come out.

Don't stay there.

God is waiting for you.

Come out.

He quoted Milton at me.

I lost my temper.

But he knows about Hacksaw,

and whatever Hacksaw is,

it is linked to the death
of Mpho Morobe.

Blomfeld.

I'm thinking I go
get me a beer

when the shift is done.

Maybe a sweet piece
of hundred-rand ass.

Come on, bru,

what the fuck is it between
you and that kaffir?

Thinking you can sell out
and save your neck

like the other braks?

What the kaffir gets
from me is medicine

I choose to give him,
you fucking poes.

And understand this,

nobody uses the word
informer about me.

Fuck off, Francois.

I find it impossible
to believe,

President de Klerk,
that the involvement

of at least
one cabinet minister

and two police commissioners,

in human rights violations
represents

nothing more than aberrations
by mavericks,

but many state-sponsored
killings

have been known to happen

and the state has brought

no senior ministers to justice.

What are you up to,
you fucking kaffir?

Ha! No way,
my weaselly little kaffir.

No way is that shit
going to work.

Hello, Father.

Aunty got very sick.

Now I don't know what to do.

What is antimony, father?

Antimony, some such thing,
doctors said.

It's a poison,
I'm afraid,

it's a poison.

You must not give up.

What can you do?

One man alone.

I have a lead.

I'm hopeful about it.

So, please,

don't give up hope

and we will not
give up on you.

I did wrong.

You made a little mistake,

a little one.

Sorry, Your Grace,

there is nothing I can do,
really.

If your name isn't on here,

you don't go in,
no matter who you are.

This is crazy.

Get me the governor.

Governor, it's imperative
that I see Mr. Blomfeld.

Your Grace,
I have been overruled

by the Department
of Correctional Services

and there is simply nothing

- I can do about it.
- I see.

Good day, Your Grace.

Good day.

Wasted journey, huh?

No,

I got to see you.

Good day.

Howard,
we need to contact

the Department of Correctional
Services immediately.

I'm sorry to be
the bearer of bad news, Arch.

Inkatha have issued a statement

to the press.

It says that
the commission's findings

are failing
to investigate impartially,

- that we're ANC stooges.
- What?

On what grounds?

That there is
no rational connection

between evidence given

and conclusions we draw.

Don't they realize
the damage

they are doing?

To all of us!

To... To--To their own...

people.

Excuse me. Can I
have you attention. please?

There has been a bomb threat
against the commission

and I'm afraid
the police have told us

we have to cancel
today's session.

I'll get back to you
as soon as I can, all right?

Alex, the Archbishop
would love a word.

Please go gently on him.

I've never seen him so down.

I'll get back
to you soonest.

Bish?

Bomb threat?
Good God. What's next?

What next?

Inkatha has made

a public attack

on the integrity

of President Mandela himself.

That's all we need.

Tribalism.

Bish,

this whole enterprise

is in danger of collapsing,

isn't it?

I don't know, Alex.

You tell me.

I just don't know.

My God,

why are you silent to me?

Show me a sign, please?

Mpilo.

Oh, my darling.

Remember that time,

the kids wanted
to play on this beach

but it was whites only?

Uh, they wanted
to swim so badly

but the look
on their faces,

I was so angry.

Yes,
and humiliated.

I felt that way

the other day
at Pollsmoor.

I see,

Pollsmoor.

Reminded me
of when I was a small boy,

walking to school
with my father,

crossing that white area,

watching my father's face

as he had to show
his pass to police

and them yelling at him

and call him names.

And he endured it all
for my sake.

I just... I just...

I just stood there.

I couldn't take away

his humiliation.

I... I failed him.

Leah, I failed him.

Maybe that lost soul

in Pollsmoor

is right.

Maybe I'm just...

an... an--an old fraud...

delusional, and...

and...

- unworthy.
- Oh,

Mpilo, you're crazy.

No.

So what are you
talking about?

You've spent
a lifetime

defending the dignity
of others.

Never to give up, never.

You're not going
to give up now.

Absolutely not.

Yes.

So much hate over what?

Over what, huh?

- A pigment of our imagination.
- Ah.

Mr. Pollsmoor's completely
underestimated you,

completely.

This pack,

plus this,

if you take out Blomfeld.

No hassle for a month
for any of your boys.

Why you want him dead?

He's a fuckin'
rock spider.

You understand,
it's good for you, him gone.

He wants your territory.

Make it soon.

- Salute.
- Salute.

Salute.

Salute.

Salute, salute, salute.

Can I help you
with something, kaffir?

You are Blomfeld?

What you want,

huh?

What you want?
I said.

This is a death knife.

You know what's going
to happen to you now,

- don't you boy?
- Yes, sir.

- What you say?!
- I said, yes sir, I know.

You got some guts coming
over here trying to take me on.

What have I done to you?

Hmm?

Something from the past?

With your family maybe?

Why you do this thing?

I've been paid
to come and kill you.

Show me your marks.

Take your top off,
fuck it!

I've got no marks, sir.

How come?

How come, no 28 tattoos?

I'm not a soldier yet.

I didn't think so.

How old are you?

Seventeen years, sir.

Seventeen?

So why they send you?

Nobody sent me.

Wanna be a man, eh?

Join the brotherhood, eh?

How long you're in for?

Four years, sir.

You kill me
that becomes 20.

- Is that what you want?
- No, no, no, sir.

You're Mogomat's wifey?

Manservant, is that it?

You've fucked yourself now,
haven't you?

You're like a rat in a maze.

What's your name?

Mboweni, Benjamin.

Mboweni? You Tsonga?

My dad is a Tsonga.

He comes from Mpumalanga.

What they're gonna do
to you now, Benjamin?

They will... they will...

they will kill me, sir.

They will kill you.

Yes, they will.

I return one of your own.

See? Blomfeld,

you're taking
our woman, now?

No, he bloodied me

by himself,
one-on-one.

Benjamin.

...no Benjamin.

Wait.

You can take me.

Sure you can.

But I take
a few noses, ears,

and pricks with me,
for sure I do.

You all hate me
for what I've done

to your people.

I absorb your hate.

I feed on it.

And you, Francois,
you bliksem cunt?

You hate me for all those terrible
things we've done together.

Discipline.

- No.
- No one.

- No one.
- Yes, he does.

I stand for him.

Quiet.

Benjamin.

- Salute!
- Salute!

Blomfeld,

I'll offer you a drink.

In your fucking dreams, kaffir.

And don't come back,
you'll get a lick

of my fucking cigarette, dude!

Did Howard leave?

Yes.

You know I think
Mr. Pollsmoor is a lost cause.

I hope you
haven't sent Howard

on a wild goose chase.

I haven't.

I'm getting
to know my enemy.

Leah has been teaching me.

Any news
about Mrs. Morobe?

Kefilwe called.

She's out of hospital.

Good.

Father,

you feeling better?

Yes.

The other night

I got really, really angry

with God.

So angry with God, I said,

"How can you allow
such and such and such

and such a thing to happen?"

So, I scolded God

for not showing the world

who was in charge.

I said, "Are you
in charge, God?"

But then,

I realized

that that was His way

of getting my backside

off of the pity potty.

Mrs. Van Den Bergh?

You're a very punctual man,
Mr. Varney.

They told me at the shop
you'd be arriving at 11:00.

11:00 it is.

Do you remember someone
called Piet Blomfeld?

You look like
you need a cup of tea.

Come inside.

Oh, go then!

They think
they're Alsatians.

That's blood.

You need vinegar
to clean blood.

I said you need vinegar.

The acid cuts the blood.

Scrub.

You're very lucky
to be here, Benjamin.

This place
is better than any school.

Hey!

First, it'll teach you
who you are.

Then, if you have the balls,

it'll teach you
that the only person

you can change is yourself.

Understand?

I know I gave my word
that I would stand for you,

but other than that,

I don't give a poes.

I told you
not to come here.

Please...

...fuck.

Kruger?

Pollsmoor.

Yes?

Archbishop,

they are going
to piss themselves in hell

they are, at what
I'm going to do.

Come see me.

Yes,

I'm going to tell you
about a certain braai

and what we done when we were
knocking back a few drinks.

You will wish to God

you never listened.

After that,
you can forget about me.

You'll have what you came for
and you and I will be done.

I will come tomorrow.

It's a fucking mess of shit.

Let Mrs. Morobe know

that Blomfeld
is going to talk.

Thank you.

This one's got
my will in it.

This one's a just-in-case,

if you know what I mean.

Will you post
that one personally,

outside the prison?

Yes,

we will move you
to the high security corridor.

You will be safe there.

Safe? Yes.

Safe it is.

Mr. Varney.

Mr. Varney.

You forgot the press clippings.

- Thank you.
- There is something

that I haven't told you.

After it was over,

the shooting,

you have
to understand one thing,

Rian Blomfeld, Piet's father,
was a bigoted monster.

After it was over,

he beat Piet up so badly,

he broke his arm.

And then the family
moved to Zimbabwe

and they sent Piet
to a white boarding school.

He was just ten years old.

He was away

when the family
was wiped out.

Revenge, people thought.

And he blames himself
for all of it.

I hope you can help Piet,

can you?

I hope so.

Goodbye Mrs. Van den Bergh

and good luck.

So he's coming
to see him then,

tomorrow.

Who?

Who's coming to see who?

That fucking
kaffir Archbishop.

He's coming to see Blomfeld.

He got the department
to overrule the governor.

Blomfeld is fucking with me.

What is it
with you and Blomfeld?

We were in the same
hit squad together.

He got arrested,

I went undercover.

Me and him,
we go back,

way back,

even before Vlakplas.

Boss himself
gave us orders.

Fucker!

Too fucking right, brother.

He crosses,
he sinks me.

Fuck.

I never took him for a canary.

You know, the governor's
got him on J-Wing.

Yeah?

Well, that won't
fucking save him.

What are you
gonna do, Sergeant?

I'm gonna put the shit
heap on lockdown.

I still got friends.

Fucking quick
off the mark.

I give them that.

Time to pay,

but you burn
in hell with me.

Oh, yeah,
for sure you burn.

No lusting to hang on,

no prayers, no begging,

never submit,
never yield.

Let them come.

Let them fucking come!

Well then,

how are you feeling now,

a bit fucked?

So you thought
you could fucking snitch.

I am what I am.

See you in hell,

you knuckle-dragging maggot.

Hansi!

Hansi!

Hansi!

It was
the girl's time of the month.

So we stripped her naked.

We made her stand there

with her hands above her head

while the blood
ran down her legs,

to break her spirit.

Her boyfriend,

Siswe Nxumalo was still drugged

in the back of the bakkie.

Some of the boys,

Hansi Coetzee,

Francois Schmidt,

some of the others,

they went and got the tires

and the wood for the burning.

Oh, and Rensberger,

he went back to the farm

to collect the beers
and some steaks.

I went into the hut.

The girl had tied
a bit of old plastic

around her middle

for decency.

It didn't cover much.

I made her kneel.

I had the Makarov

with the silencer on.

I put it
to the back of her skull

and then I blew

the top of her head off.

Switch it off!
Switch it off!

We will resume in ten minutes.

While we waited
for the bodies to burn,

we opened...

we opened some beers

and we had...

someone said, let's...

we had a braai...

Those two young people,

those children

had just been murdered

and you people,

as their bodies burned

had a braai,

a barbecue?

Yes.

So help me God, I...

Was my baby an enemy
to the state?

In what way?

I know nothing can bring

your daughter back.

I want to.

God above as my witness,

Mrs. Morobe.

I want nothing more than that.

I deserve to be punished.

I've lost my right to live

but I can't unmake
what's happened

even if I wish it so.

And...

I can't ask you to forget

and I...

I can't ask you to forgive me.

I just can't...

I can't...

I can't forgive myself.

All I can say is, um...

I'm so...

I'm so...

very, very sorry

for what I've done.

Stand up, Mr. Coetzee.

You robbed me of the most

beautiful thing in my life

and you left me as dead

as the two children.

You personally
did not kill my child

but you never

found it in your heart

to protect her.

A teenage girl at your mercy

but you never even tried.

What a small man you are.

Look at me, Mr. Coetzee.

When I hear you speak

of my child's death,

my heart cries out to kill you.

A mother's heart
cries out for that!

Yes...

I want to kill you

like she was killed.

See what you have done!

But I do not want
my daughter's death

to be made dirty with revenge

and death

because she was beautiful,

too beautiful for ugliness

to be her memory.

Mr. Coetzee,

my child...

looks down on us now.

I can feel it.

And she offers us a chance

to start again.

For you...

to make amends,

to be a big man,

and for me... and for me

to live again,

and for her sake,

I will do this.

Hansi Coetzee,

let her see us

make a clean slate
for her sake.

Benjamin.

Good to meet you.

Do you know why
you're here?

Something about
the Blomfeld?

Yes, something about
the Blomfeld.

Governor?

Hello, Benjamin.

Yes, sir.

How are you?

I'm good, sir.

Don't worry.

The department
will transfer you

out of this prison

but before that,

I'm going to read you

the last will and testament

of Piet Blomfeld.

"All I have
are a few bits of junk,

except for my copy
of the poem

'Paradise Lost...'"

...which is to be given

to Benjamin Mboweni.

There is a little money of mine

in the Witwatersrand Bank.

That money
I leave to you, Benjamin,

for your use.

Understand, Benjamin,

it is not an apology

but it is a reparation

to free you from the results

of what has been done

to your people.

Oh,
I wanted to talk to you.

Sit down.

Okay.

I've come to thank you.

You know, for what
you've been doing,

shining a light

into a dark place.

You are a brave woman,

Mrs. Coetzee.

I hated you at first.

Of course.

I'm just as easy to hate

as I am to love.

Well, I just...
I guess I just...

I lived in a bubble.

But now I ask myself,

"How could I not see?"

I'm not talking
just about Hansi.

I guess I'm really
talking about

everything that's been
going on.

I pretended that
it wasn't happening, but...

I knew.

And at this point,

probably doesn't
mean much, but...

I want to say I'm sorry.

Why doesn't it mean much

to say you're sorry?

I guess because I think that

I'm a bad person

and that you'll think
these are just white tears.

Happily, tears,

they don't have any color

and I think you're a person

in need of a hug

just like the rest of us.

What was that for?

I'm sorry.

These last two years
have been

hard for you, Leah.

But I just want you
to know

I never took you
for granted.

Never.

Why, you old goat,

are you asking me
for forgiveness?

I suppose I am.

Look at it.

What a beautiful sight.

Yes, the sea
and all its colors.

I've always loved them.

No, no, no, I mean,

here on the beach.

Our beach.

Subtitles by explosiveskull