SCARRED HEARTS
loosely adapted from M. Blecher's literary works
when I seek to reconstruct each past moment,
in its particular sadness or joy, I get the feeling of the transience of life
and of the unimportance of what we call human existence
Here.
Thank you, Sir.
- Who are you looking for? - Dr. Ceafalan.
First corridor left...
Stand aside!
- Are you afraid, Manu? - No.
Nothing to be frightened of.
It will be alright.
Hold your breath when he says so.
I want a good X-ray image.
Lie down.
You are cold, in this heat?
A little.
It will only take a minute.
The plate.
Now.
exhausting despair was buzzing around in his head
Good picture!
But, as I suspected,
this is no mere rheumatism.
One vertebra is affected, a piece of bone is missing.
- Missing?! - Have a seat.
How, you ask?
It wasn't stolen, like from a store. It was worn away by microbes.
Completely eaten. Like a tooth with a cavity.
In the spine?
Isn't that where the verterbrae are?!
It's destroyed.
Pott's disease: bone tuberculosis.
It's in the vertebrae.
Is it serious?
You came here to get well.
This scaredy-cat mewling won't help you.
Have some courage, it can be cured.
Another suspicious thing...
Just as the X-ray showed.
These are the affected vertebrae.
Good thing there is no gibbousness.
Otherwise, you'll end up like Richard III.
- You like theatre? - He does.
Supine decubitus!
The belt!
There's an abscess here.
The pus from the vertebra pooled here.
- We'll have to puncture. - How?
It's easy...
Is this a bad time?
No.
We'll do it later. I'm sure-handed.
You may dress.
I came to say goodbye and to thank you.
Such a dear...
As they say: Doctors prescribe, but God only cures!
Splendid!
She came here last year.
Wait, in '35. And now she is cured.
- Congratulations. - Thank you.
- Do stop by sometime. - I will.
Don't forget us.
- The best of health! - Thank you.
Have you had the abscess for long?
It's full of pus from the sick bone.
I've never noticed it. Could it burst?
Of course. Good thing we caught it in time - if it had burst...
- It would have been troublesome. - Now I notice it.
Can you afford the expenses? It isn't cheap.
I'll make every effort. He's our only son.
- Where are you from? - Roman.
I bet you are a merchant.
I have two crystal shops.
- Is that a problem? - God forbid!
he felt very loosely glued together
Carmen Sylva.
In patria nostra multae silvae sunt.
Quae bestiis abundant.
- Let's take a look at the sea. - Sure.
- Came to visit? - Yes.
- Join us! - I'm going inside.
I haven't seen you in whole aeons!
I was caught up in some stupid work.
I was in Kladovo to see Mum.
- Lies! - I got back yesterday.
- Some lemonade? - No, thank you.
- Need help on the stairs? - Go see to your patients.
- I hate that! I'm not a child. - Fine.
Be good while you're here.
I'll send you money, you'll get well.
I'll work.
I'll do it all for you, don't forget it.
Both me and your mother.
Our children are all we have.
I'm sorry, I'm a little agitated.
I feel grateful, but also guilty.
This situation makes me feel outraged.
You'll get well and look after us in our old age.
I will.
I'll lie in bed and yell:
Manu! The war is starting!
It's the Battle of Marasesti, get me my rifle!
We're fighting General Mackensen!
Call General Grigorescu!
How will you handle me, my boy?
I'll take care of you. With a bullet to the head.
Patients lead normal lives here.
They go out, listen to music, wear normal clothes...
They lie in the sun on the terrace...
And not a care in the world!
They just have to lie down.
You can even drive a carriage reclining.
Like in a sulky.
Yes.
I'd like some gefilte fish.
There, gefilte goby!
Come back!
- Don't leave without telling anyone! - Sorry.
Your room.
It's disinfected with sulphur.
The bathroom is at the end of the corridor.
Excellent! Do you like it, Manu?
It's like a hotel! Grand Hotel Victoria Româna!
Ritzhak Hotel!
You won't even feel like an ill man.
- Who stayed here before? - Many people.
- Anyone who died? - Of course not!
The last one was a girl, but she went to Berck-sur-Mer.
The doctor will come soon.
Are there many patients like me?
Like you? I don't even know what to call you...
"Call out three words: champagne, wine, Rhein!"
- I mean easy? - Yes!
Some have ten sick vertebrae. Or their legs...
You're fine, I hear your abscess isn't even fistulised.
- Fistulised? - It means "burst".
A leaky hole.
It's not burst.
Some say an open fistule is an open door to death.
- Doctors? - No, superstitious patients.
Animals...
new expectations and new hopes, immense, were born in me
Anaesthetic!
If the abscess isn't open, there is almost no danger.
She'll finish in a second.
We need to drain the pus so it won't burst.
What if it does open?
The pus may get infected in contact with bacteria,
causing blood poisoning.
Sometimes... the patient croaks in a few days.
Other times the patient makes it.
And the abscess keeps leaking for years.
You should know, so you avoid any agitation.
The pus will stop forming.
The abscess will disappear.
Don't move!
Done!
Look here, my friend. Pus!
The abscess was full.
Lie on your back.
Let him get used to lying down.
We'll let you settle in.
Then we'll put you in a cast.
- A cast? - It's nothing serious.
It protects you from spine fractures.
a claw sank into the anaesthetic-petrified flesh
When he pierced your belly with that thick needle,
I felt my knees give way.
Any longer and I would have collapsed.
You're so brave, son.
I'll go pay.
Don't go anywhere alone, even to the toilet.
Ring the bell and I'll bring the bedpan.
For you, Mr. Nelu.
But Sir is too generous.
Take care of him.
- He's still a boy. - He won't want for anything.
Whatever you need, just ring and I'll be right here.
Thank you.
those around me seemed pitiable for how naively they believed
in all they did and felt
Why are you laughing?
It's ridiculous!
Doctor, don't!
- I'll miss you. - Stop that.
Remember the gramophone.
I'll send it as soon as I get home.
- Be brave. - I will, don't worry.
Give a kiss to Mum and my sisters.
Send the radio, too.
I'll make a list of books, too.
We'll talk on the telephone.
- We have one. - They have one!
Bye, then.
Be strong. And good.
Have a safe trip!
Keep a steady heart, Your Grimyness! May you be a furry carp soon!
Have a safe trip!
the impression that nothing is real
Have you been ill long?
For long, but they've only just caught it.
It was the same for all of us.
What do you suffer from?
- "A word which says a lot"! - What?
Pott's disease. A word which says a lot: Pott!
You know that ad, "A word which says a lot: Mott"?
It's for Mott champagne.
"A word which says a lot: Mott!"
Only mine is Percival Pott.
- And you? - The same.
"A sound which says a lot."
You have a cast underneath?
- Are you stupid? - It's not noticeable.
Ceafalan tailors them to the client.
The grand maestro of casts and butcher-style punctions.
- He's actually a veterinary. - He is?
- I don't know. - You're joking!
Only with you, for you inspire this vital energy.
- I'll beat you with these crutches! - Don't spill it.
Are you the new patient?
- Emanuel. - Ernest. Nice to meet you.
- Some people here can't stand Jews. - Let the man be!
- Victor. - Emanuel.
But you I like, because you're sick!
Valentin plays at being an Iron Guard Legionnaire.
Playing? I am a Legionnaire!
So what do you study? Underwater basket weaving?
No, chemistry.
But now I'm ill, I don't study anything.
Solange! Meet our new brother in suffering.
In atrocious suffering!
Is that a French name, Mademoiselle?
Yes. It's my name.
Solange. "Sun angel".
"Angel of God, my guardian dear..."
Lovely.
Her name's Zaga, she just calls herself Solange.
You rotter.
Any good?
the feeling of immense abandonment
We're not killing you!
A big boy like you can't stand bandaging?
See, he wasn't a good boy.
For crying out loud... Out!
Why are you crying now?
I told you to stop crowding around here.
Doctor?
- How is my boy doing? - The boy?
Fine.
It's just those fistulae near his testicles.
I have to give him aether.
- But it will be fine? - Yes.
Take him to his room.
We have work to do.
How is it going?
Do you want the cast done today?
Today. I got used to lying down.
Brave boy!
Usually, patients act like scared mice!
True!
You'll have to wear it sooner or later.
It helps the affected spot heal.
So the spine won't break.
You'll keep this shirt on until we take off the cast.
Why are you being so horrid?
Get more plaster.
- Gypsum factum! - I've seen naked men before.
- You've seen kilometres of them! - Nautical miles!
Moby Dick!
Straight on the spine!
- "All my dreams came true at last..." - Let me put you in a cast!
- Breathe in. - Yes.
You look so much like El Greco's Inquisitor!
- Maybe he's his reincarnation! - El Greco, not Velázquez!
The Greek!
Can you roll over?
It's so heavy!
solidary with their illness, with their casts
Lie back.
I'm like a statue.
Some have to do great things to get a statue.
While you...
You just have to be a little ill.
- A statue of skin and plaster! - Exactly!
Chekhov said people should be beautiful in every way:
Their face, their clothes, their soul, their cast...
Sausage on the grill! Let's dry him off.
I hadn't finished the story about the doctor.
You were saying he experimented on prisoners.
In 1870.
He fed some inmates polenta made of moldy maize.
They got pellagra.
Why?
To study the link between it and a maize-based diet.
Did the prisoners with pellagra die?
Some did.
The lives some people have...
- Doctor! - What is it?
The heat has made me very sick.
Oh my. Don't you throw up in here!
Get the little one up!
Are you listening? Get him up.
You won't dry off as fast.
Nelson's statue!
Make sure to rest.
When I get bored, I'll dance some shimmy, foxtrot, java.
The boy has humour!
Humour helps you heal!
each moment, each pain, each thought, each event I consider important
is but an atom in the vast ocean of world events
Open up.
"No home without Aspirin!"
Come in.
Good day, Sir! I see you got your General uniform.
I'm in a horrible puddle.
It's sinking through my skin, into my bones, flowing down my back.
It disgusts me.
It will dry off in 2-3 days.
I'll never get used to this crap.
It hampers my every move.
You'll get used to it.
It's horrid.
I'm glad it's raining.
The right weather to be ill.
Everyone's indoors, reduced to the same sadness.
When it's nice outside, it makes things worse.
I prefer these rainy days,
when you stay inside like a beaten dog.
I don't know...
Who's that little lady, Solange?
A former patient, washed up from Yugoslavia.
- A patient? - She was in a cast for 3 years.
But she healed very well.
Three years...
- Why is she still around? - She works in an attorney's office.
She doesn't want to leave.
This place is like a drug.
It gets in your blood.
She was married to a compatriot.
He left her when she fell ill.
Kind and elegant.
You like the girl?
She's really stupid. Others got burned too.
You were in love with her?
I only fucked her.
How can I see her again?
Young blood in young balls!
I'll have you both over for tea.
a sudden disgust mingled with indescribable pity
There's our new cast-bearer!
Emanuel!
This wine is for fainting women!
- Ernest, is there anything else? - Yes!
Cognac, brandy...
Shut up, you're killing us!
- You hate music? - Your roaring isn't music.
Stop it or I'll whack you with his crutch!
- Fuck off. - Get out then!
In the corner!
I left you in the dust!
We all know you and Isa are together. Right, Isabela?
What gave you the idea?
Leave me out of this.
I swear, before this honourable jury,
there is nothing between myself and Miss Isabela.
We are only friends.
If there was, it would concern no one else.
You think we're stupid? You visit her every night.
- What do you do there? - None of your business!
We talk, you animal! We read...
- You know her cast goes all the way down. - So what?
One can make love with that on.
Listen, everyone! You too!
I do declare, upon my military honour,
that nothing at all is going on between Isabela and I!
You all know her cast goes all the way down her leg.
You can kiss her all over...
- Not true! - You kiss her cunt!
Why should I apologise?
My hat!
You can let go of me now.
Give me something to drink.
You're such a lousy drunk!
Solange!
Leave me this gorgeous hat.
Solange, take my hat!
Point to me!
To me, to me!
No more playing?
an atrocious void in his chest, like a need to breathe or cry
Should we call the doctor?
- No. - Tell us where it hurts.
- It will pass. - Tell us where it hurts.
My liver.
- Have you been drinking? - No.
And you have the cast on, too.
Quiet down.
I get these spasms around the liver.
I'll bring you a cold compress.
It could be pain radiating from the spine.
- Or another abscess. - I hope not.
You all hope.
I'm the only professional patient.
I've stopped hoping.
I've been on the job for 6 years.
Next month I'm getting the twelfth surgery in my life.
You're a hero patient, not a professional one!
A Nicador of bone tuberculosis!
An Iron Guard chief! Captain Pott!
"The Guard and the Captain turn us into plaster hawks,"
"The Guard, the Captain, and the Bone Archangel!"
Don't you mock the Captain!
Or heroes like Belimace and Caranica!
A bunch of murderers!
- Duca didn't deserve to be killed. - Yes, he did!
He opposed the Iron Guard.
In Hitler's Germany, the Nicadors would be national heroes!
Here, they were given life sentences.
What do you think of Cioran, of the young generation?
"On the Heights of Despair" - so and so.
I don't like him much.
This is what Cioran thinks of Hitler.
- Pass it to him. - I'll have a look.
I think Hitler is a dangerous madman.
Regardless of the opinion of Cioran, or Boran, or Koran.
I am not an anti-Semite!
Except politically and economically.
When the overstuffed Jewish bankers...
You're ignoring the scores of Jewish craftsmen who barely get by.
Like all anti-Semites, you keep ranting about Jewish bankers.
How does that song go?
- "Free us poor peasants..." - "From our toils and misery,"
"For dirty Jews and foreigners Suck our lifeblood ceaselessly!"
This isn't rational.
- I love how you say "suck". - Fuck off!
Frau Solange, read that Cioran fragment.
The opinion of an intelligent young man.
Published in Vremea!
The underlined passage, please.
Did you summarise it?
"One can accept or reject Hitlerism,"
"it will still be a lifestyle in Germany and beyond the circumstances"
"in which it pervades individual consciousness."
"It matches the meaning of German history."
I don't get it!
"Hitlerism springs from the destiny of the German essence."
"It deepened the abyss separating Germany from France;"
"it is the confirmation of their historical antagonism."
"I like how Hitlerism cultivates irrationality,"
"the virile expense of force, without criticism or control."
"A National-Socialist must unthinkingly participate in this historic mission."
"This movement has simply popularised the principles of life philosophy."
"It introduces the mystical cult of Soil, as opposed to Spirit."
"The need for a Führer..."
I don't understand this.
Don't care, either.
- Emanuel is right. - What?
How about this?
"Young man wooing beautiful women:"
"The most poetic oaths of love become prosaic if you have bad breath."
"Avoid this by consuming Beech-Nut Mints!"
"Saint John Chrysostom used them too!"
I'd like some.
You don't have bad breath.
- That's not for me to say. - I'm saying it.
Maybe it doesn't reach you.
"But who could explain This sad story?"
- How sweet... - Sly Jew!
Cioran is influenced by Nae Ionescu.
It shows in his style.
The country is teeming with little Nae Ionescus.
- You don't like him? - An anti-Semitic idiot!
The scum of the earth, a disgusting bastard.
I don't think he's an anti-Semite; I'm not one either.
He says the true revolution wasn't started by the Jews.
It's the one going on in Germany now.
Sophisms for idiots!
Shameful, a man like him stooping to lowly sophisms.
Sophisms or no-phisms, I think he's right.
I'll show you Hitler.
Eva, get me up.
"Let this cup pass from me!"
I should get going.
I have a lot of work to do.
I start at eight.
"Such turmoil, such pain,"
"The ship's sinking on the bounding main,"
"The crew is sinkin' into the deep,"
"Dyin' with mighty kicks of their feet."
- To the health of the healthy! - How about the ill?
They don't need health.
They enjoy lying down,
being carted around.
- You think so? - Yes!
My situation is tragic, I must return to the "evolution of lemonade".
I'll have to be always healthy.
In bed, I could have fever or nausea...
But you will have more freedom.
What am I to do with it?
Each day I will brush my teeth, have lunch,
even if a Titanic-like catastrophe has happened that day,
or someone died in horrible pain.
- Like Giordano Bruno. - Yes.
I'll be reduced to a monotonous animal.
- I doubt that. - You're still in the early stages.
What if you were suddenly healed?
Returned to your past ambitions and illusions...
Would they matter?
I'm going.
I'll leave you to your lame philosophy.
Why lame?
Because it is.
Sleep well, Plato and Aristotle.
Or Pat and Patachon.
Sleep well.
I can't wait to see you again.
- Goodnight. - Goodnight.
in this void we create empty patches existing only in our inner world,
where we fancy ourselves living, while it absorbs everything.
Clean the grime under the cast, too.
I have the Golden Bough!
Right there.
Let me do it.
- So good... - Stop, you'll hurt yourself.
- Just a little! - You're making it worse!
The itching won't go away.
It will give you more trouble.
Up.
You'll get me in trouble.
the perfect futility of this splendid day
In one year,
a sick man spends enough energy to conquer an empire.
Only it's on the minus axis.
Each of us is the guy who wasn't Caesar,
or Napoleon, or Nelson.
- Aren't you scared of the surgery? - Not at all.
- It's not about courage. - Give me a dime, chief.
Who let you in? Out!
Let the poor souls be.
- Here. - Thank you, chief.
Out!
I'm not scared.
I view the surgery in a neutral light.
A stoic, like Marcus Aurelius:
"What affects us is not the thing itself, but our opinion of it."
Maybe.
In my 28 years of life, I've seen it all.
Both good and bad.
Back off, crow!
Who are they?
Get out!
Who are they?
Two vaudeville artists. Two whores.
Why take a photo of yourself with a hard-on?
I used to have difficulties after every surgery.
While I recovered my strength, I'd look at this.
It worked better than Reton tablets.
Hot, right?
the impalpable reality of passing days, like a quiet river
he could feel inside when he lay with his eyes closed
Quelle élégance!
Hello, Nelu.
Do you need anything else?
It's alright.
It's fine that you couldn't come, but you didn't let me know.
You could have sent a note...
You preferred letting me wait like an idiot.
- You're exaggerating. - Not at all.
You were the one who said you'd come.
You could have let me know.
At least one of the next days.
- It was the civil thing to do. - The civil thing...
You're acting like a jealous old husband.
Venomous...
It bothered me.
I had bought wine and chocolates...
Let's drink the wine!
I drank it with Ernest, your former lover.
Now you're being jealous.
I hate jealous men.
"I was jealous of pretty women - Tokalon Cream!"
I know the ad, but I prefer Nivea.
"In bad weather, anoint your face with Nivea Cream!"
"Not only at night, but also by day!"
How about that ad: "Nervous people die young"?
Feeling attacked?
I don't like it.
Because I really will die young.
You love playing the victim...
I'm sorry for Sunday.
I had so much work to do.
There's a merger between factories and I had to type it all.
I'm worn out.
Who is your boss?
A former dog catcher and butcher.
So you can imagine...
- Are you sleeping with him? - No.
Good!
I'm terribly lazy.
The silence and rest here suit me marvellously.
Does your back hurt?
- It used to hurt me. - It does.
But being pushed around in a bed... I like it.
I had forgotten that silence and perfect calm do exist.
You should study for university.
I'll heal quickly and go back to it.
- Now I read other things. - Like what?
Rudolf Carnap.
La science et la métaphysique devant l'analyse logique du langage.
His ideas are exciting.
Ever heard of him?
It's easier if you explain.
Come closer.
So you're not a misogynistic philosopher.
Misogynistic, me? Not at all!
Bien au contraire.
the vertiginous feeling of reality after a long wait
Oh my, poems!
- So you write poetry too. - Give them back!
Don't be embarrassed, it's lovely.
- Recite one for me. - I can't.
- Why? - It's not the right time.
Recite one for me!
How about one by Bacovia, my favourite poet.
I want one of yours.
Not now.
Fine, recite one of Bacovia's.
Come here.
"There are moments when I have everything, Silent and tender psychoses."
"Sweet stories like dreams made of roses, Moments when I have everything."
"See, there are moments when I have everything."
"Life flows away in a long line of words, A song made of old, ancient chords..."
"Moments when I have everything."
It's called "In Happiness".
It sounds more like Minulescu.
How could that ever be Minulescu?!
He's a a terrible poet, an idiot.
It's Bacovia, our most authentic poet.
It reminded me of Minulescu's.
I'm not an expert in poetry, Mr. Misogynist.
You really are no expert.
No.
- You could get hurt. - Nonsense!
No.
- Please! - I have to go back to work.
Please! I know you won't come again.
I will, trust me.
Don't be sad!
That's as committed as I can get right now.
I like you so much.
I like you too.
I never visit patients alone.
I need you.
I know.
I think of the rivers of blood in all the people on Earth,
this hidden rush under their skin while they walk or sleep,
of the veins carrying the same vapours and the same roar of blood
so sad and impressive, a funeral in the bright heat,
when all seems bigger, as if seen through a magnifier
"Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean:"
"wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."
a man's life is to worms no different from his body;
he ends in stench with all the fine objects in his life
Symbolically, the disease mocked him to the end.
Yes.
The doctor said it had to do with the nervous system.
Instead of a scream, the pain caused laughter.
- Aren't you smart! - Maybe it's for the best.
To die laughing.
I think it was nervous laughter.
Your ass is nervous!
Victor had promised her his gramophone if she fucked him,
but willed it to the room with the three children.
- She's been yellow with spite. - It was a great gramophone.
Odeon Werke Berlin.
"A radio is a friend!"
More asparagus, anyone?
- Me! - Me too.
What's with the asparagus?
The doctor wanted to do something for the grieving family.
With asparagus.
We give what comfort we can. Words, flowers or asparagus.
- Where's Isa? - She took a sedative.
- When are you leaving? - In another month.
Before Christmas.
Solange!
What?
Stay with me tonight. I can't stand being without you.
I can't.
I'm begging you.
"Stroe and Vasilache!"
You're beautiful!
What a hard life!
the plaster's indifferent barrier created an impersonal, rough organicity
- What is it? - The edge of the cast hurts my belly.
Better?
Yes, it's fine.
darkness lay around us like thick wine
I still haven't heard your poem.
- You tricked me. - I'm sorry.
Here.
"Black is the devil, but not as black as Vultur shoe shine!"
Lay off that.
Here's a poem.
It's titled "To a schoolgirl".
"Back in school you were the best, I'd watch you and squirm;"
"Now that you've passed all your tests, Come meet my bookworm!"
I have a friend, Manolescu, who writes ghastly poetry.
I advised him to change his name
to Manolescu-Tomb.
Why?
It would sound so dramatic.
"Hello, this is the radio, we'll hear a romantic poem by Manolescu-Tomb."
He'd sound like a cursed genius.
I'll tell you one by Eminescu.
"Birds, when dusk throws shadows, Flock around in concord..."
"To face the hail of arrows Of the Sultan's horde!"
- I didn't know you had such humour. - God forbid.
- Do you believe in God? - And you?
Sometimes. Most times I don't.
I think all we care about is eternal life.
Something after death. Not whether God exists.
How so?
Imagine God came to Earth.
Here, at the sanatorium.
He'd come ad majorem Dei gloriam,
with Jesus, with the Virgin Mary, with angels...
...even Iron Guard Archangel Michael.
Good joke!
He would mathematically prove that He exists, that Jesus exists,
but that men are mortal.
Nothing after death!
God does exist, but there's nothing after death.
No religion would say that. It's like Bogomilism.
I don't know.
But it would be a possibility.
Would you still care about God then?
No.
- Quod erat demonstrandum! - Of course, Socrates!
I have bags under my eyes.
What language would Jesus speak if he came?
I can't imagine him speaking Romanian.
Serbian, obviously.
I'll be right back.
If no more abscesses form, you may be out of the cast by Christmas.
In a few months you might walk.
You'll get me out of the cast?
It could happen.
It's all I can say.
That would be so good!
That's our profession!
Out, get some fresh air!
- As much as possible, even in the cold. - Thank you, Doctor.
Hey, how are you?
It seems soon I'll be out of the cast.
Congratulations!
You're in the way!
Could I invite you to my room?
We can chat, listen to music...
I got a new record, one with Mozart... and Marin.
- Sure, I'll come. - See you tonight, then?
Hey, watch out!
- Bratianu might stand a chance. - Only with some major fraud!
If it wasn't for my disease, I'd have gone into politics.
I saw Argetoianu at Capsa.
At a table in the back, with two floozies.
Drinks, swearing, spanking!
He remembered he had been a student... with ambitions, desires.
When had that happened?
Mind if I join you on your bed?
Come over.
"If I profane with my unworthiest hand..."
"My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand"
"To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
No, please!
Solange will be upset.
- Who will tell her? - This is just not done.
She's my friend.
I don't think Solange is that chaste either.
She isn't exactly Saint Teresa of Ávila.
Or Hildegard of Bingen.
That doesn't matter.
We're so ill, Isa, that worrying about bourgeois morals
is simply disgusting.
Christianism has destroyed us all.
I don't want to hurt anyone.
Life is a serious game,
for which we've even invented nickel plating.
To live, we must believe in their importance.
But let us remember it is all just a game.
Maybe it isn't.
Maybe salvation does exist.
We're just wasting our brief time.
Time cannot be wasted.
Maybe not.
Have I told you about my thought axis?
No, that must have been Solange.
A wise man said:
"Fortunate is he who keeps the hour of his death ever present"
"and prepares for death each day."
"In the morning, think you will not live to see night;"
"In the evening, dare not promise to see the day."
"Live so that death may never take you by surprise."
I've been thinking that for years.
- And no one thinks I'm wise. - But you are...
Marcus Aurelia.
Leave me alone!
I'll ring for the carrier.
- I hope you won't resent me. - Not at all!
- You neither, I hope. - No.
Take me back to my room.
- Goodnight, Manu. - Goodnight.
- You need the last rites... - Leave me alone!
What if, thought Emanuel, the building had sailed out
on the ocean's waves, with its patients,
before sinking with all the casts, infirmities and despair?
If the Director hears of this,
don't say we helped you, or we're out.
Get me a bouquet of chrysanthemums.
He felt a sudden tenderness for objects, houses, squares.
"Goodbye!", Emanuel bid them in his mind.
"Cure alcoholism before the alcoholic breaks the law!"
- What are you doing here? - Won't you invite me in?
They've carried me like Atlas all this way.
Come in.
"Gentlemen, an Inspector-General is coming!"
- When do we come get you? - Maybe the lady is busy.
Stay as long as you wish.
I have tea and biscuits.
Don't bother.
Here.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Andrei, Emanuel.
Pleased to meet you.
- I have to go. - Why? Stay a bit.
It's like putting legs on a snake.
I have a text to send to the Royal Foundations Magazine.
- It's been a rare pleasure, Sir. - Likewise.
Dear lady...
I didn't know I'd be a bother. I wanted to surprise you.
You could have sent a note ahead.
Who's the spruced-up gentleman?
- A friend. - Amicus Plato!
You know what this is for.
I'll tell you, but not now.
The flowers were from me, just so you know.
I'm glad you came.
I was so surprised!
Let me hold you close to my cast.
Like Manole the Mason.
"Manole, great mason, the wall is squeezing my heart,"
"breaking my poor body!"
Not now. I'm on my period.
I don't mind.
- We'll get blood everywhere. - Please...
the washed-out day goes on, boiling with illnesses, trifles and discouragement
My turn.
- Who scared you the most in your life? - You did.
Seriously!
You are beautiful.
Thank you.
I think it was when I was a child.
I saw some newspaper boys shouting "Die, dirty Jews!"
I found it more strange than scary.
People were talking about death, my death.
I was passing, barely hearing them.
Why is it so easy to shout "Die!" on a street in Romania
and people don't even turn to look?
Death is a serious thing.
If someone shouted in the streets for the death of, say, badgers,
even that might surprise some passers-by.
How horrible.
It's not that three boys can shout "Die, Jews!"
It's that their shout can pass unnoticed, unopposed.
Like a tram bell.
I've never talked to someone without wondering in fear
whether he knows I'm a Jew.
And whether he forgives me for it.
- That doesn't matter to me. - I know.
- What was your scariest moment? - I'm always afraid of something.
Afraid, afraid...
The worst was the eighth of June last year.
Coronation Day?
I went with a boyfriend to see the King's event.
We were in the first row of seats, which crashed.
He died crushed, I made it out.
God, that fall was horrible.
- You were really there? - Yes.
To see those guys doing the Roman salute?
Did a lot of people die? Newspapers say dozens.
A lot more.
I saw many people crushed, their brains scattered.
The newspapers lied to protect the politicians.
City Hall was all corrupt.
They crammed so many people in one section.
It was murder.
You poor thing.
- Lucky you made it out! - Sure.
Sure!
Did you love that man?
Want to go to the beach?
But I need to use the bathroom.
I'll get you a pot.
- I'd be embarrassed. - I was sick too, remember?
We'll get a buggie you can drive.
Thank you.
How nice!
Do you get a good view like this?
- Very good. - And the other?
- Yes. - Come back by 6 or I'll charge extra.
- We will. - Don't say I didn't tell you.
- I don't want trouble. - There won't be any.
"If today became a pebble in a box"
"And golden butterflies as stained glass,"
"If tonight became a handful of crystals"
"Of feverish icicles, and a dream-woven doll,"
"If I had objects with life within,"
"Thoughts plaited in silk, memories in glass,"
"I'd like your visits to be bracelets of blood,"
"A smile - a necklace, a mere moment - a ring."
Who wrote that?
I did.
It's beautiful.
If I get well, would you have my baby and marry me?
What?
I'd like all that.
Aren't I too old for you?
- I'm 32. - Not at all.
Besides, I don't care. So tell me.
- What? - Whether you want to.
We'll see.
See what, make sure I get better?
Dr. Ceafalan said the cast will be off soon.
- So don't rely on that. - I don't.
- What, then? - I'm a free woman.
I like it. Why put myself in prison?
Would life with me be a prison?
Any marriage is one, at least partly.
I wouldn't imprison you. You'd be free.
When you embrace me, it's a different prison.
A prison made of flowers.
- How do you see our life in Roman? - In Rome?
Ro-man.
No, no.
Roman is a lousy town, with people rotten on the inside.
People there are stupid, with no passions.
Dead while still living.
I don't know. We'd be together.
I'd go back to University, unless they tightened the numerus clausus.
Or numerus valahicus, as they pompously call it.
You could come and work there.
Then I'll work for both, we'll have two lovely children...
We'll get along well.
You are such a child.
No need to offend me.
You keep looking down on me.
- That's not true! - Yes, it is.
Yes or no?
I don't know, we'll see!
Fine.
I'll wait for you to decide.
Don't wait, that makes me feel pressured!
Keep writing poetry, get well and then we'll see!
Avoid exhausting excesses...
- Or the treatment will be in vain. - Understood.
Don't force things.
Asking isn't forcing you.
I don't want you to suffer.
I'm not suffering at all.
Some think suffering is the ultimate Eucharist.
They wallow in suffering, they love it like an inner sceptre
which lifts them above the rest.
- I've met that kind. It's normal. - No, it isn't.
There's nothing more stupid than the pride of suffering.
The way they show each other their surgery scars...
When I hear a friend is suffering,
I wish I could do something to make it go away.
For instance, since I'm sick anyway,
I could have long convulsions that would nullify my friends' pain.
Like a fixation abscess for suffering.
Not out of pity or charity.
As the one honourable act against the stupidity of physical pain.
despite my pain and death, everything around will keep its shape and volume,
and maybe a man will stop on the street and light a cigarette
We should go back.
What's happening?
Solange!
Our love will surely end!
- Along with us. - Long before, as it should be!
Solange, nothing ever ends. Love even less so.
You live in the future, while I have none!
You forget I'm sick.
And you have no reason to be sad.
Please forgive me.
You smell of sea and tears.
The final results of the ballot count for December 1937:
The National Liberal Party, 35,9%,
the National Peasants Party, with 20,4%.
Third, surprisingly, the Legionnaire Party, 15,58%,
and the National Christian Party, with 9,1%...
I felt my head squeezed within the skull's ghastly, painful prison
Codreanu, you are our salvation, Sent by God when times are hard,
Save us from our desperation, With your mighty Iron Guard.
- Are you cured? - They lopped off my leg.
- I didn't need it anymore. - Amputated?
I'll use it as a dick!
We'll puncture it and let it drain.
Why did this happen? You said I was getting better.
This isn't arithmetic, you can't be sure.
It's nothing serious, it's curable.
It will pass.
Katty was just like you.
After the cast, I put her in the brace and now she's fine.
Be good now.
Easy now, easy.
Done! Bravo!
Very brave! I thought you'd raise the sanatorium screaming.
With so much pus, the anaesthetic won't work.
- I squeezed my thumb. - Bravo.
Atrophied from immobility.
Or affected by the spine.
Ankylosis of the knee. It needs an extension brace.
Or you won't be able to walk.
Hear this!
"I offer 5.000 lei to whoever can locate"
"Mitica Tigaeru, known as Haplea,"
"or the 8-cylinder Chrysler Imperial, 1933 model."
- This country is a den of thieves. - It's the poverty!
If the brace won't straighten it, we'll need to operate.
- Does this hurt? - Yes.
I'm sorry, it has to stay that way for a while.
Total rest!
No more going to the dining room.
Sorry about the New Year party, health comes first.
Rest!
each day, new pain, new torment, more suffering, more despair
4, 3, 2, 1...
Happy New Year, Manu.
Get well.
Fuck it...
a new inner light full of sadness.
Come in.
Hello, Miss.
- Granny, could you leave us? - Of course, dear.
I feel so good here.
There's so much peace in this room.
It makes me realise how alone I am in my room.
I felt lonely too. Particularly in the first two years.
Then I got used to it.
To the disease, the cast, the bandages...
Isn't it strange?
That some are cured and others aren't.
Victor seemed to be getting better, then he died.
Katty was ill and now she's fine.
Ernest has already left...
Why, I wonder?
Why do some survive and others don't?
I keep wondering.
I've long stopped wondering.
I admire you.
I admire those who feel indifferent about their illness.
I'd feel worse if I was so resigned.
- I don't think so. - I do.
Sometimes I wake up at night and madly feel my cast.
I could rip it off, I grit my teeth, cry like a baby.
I was the same.
We all were.
We woke up at night and pulled and punched at the cast.
After a while, you stop feeling.
Like the doctor says - scar tissue.
- Do you know what that is? - Yes, it's when reptiles moult.
It's that purple, bunched-up skin formed over a healed wound.
Like normal skin, only insensitive to heat, cold, touch...
- I see. - Just like us old patients.
We're desensitised to suffering.
- Not me. - Not yet.
We are denied even the heroism of true tuberculosis.
Lung tuberculosis - that would have been romantic!
Cursed geniuses!
Let's spread some rat poison!
In the morning...
...we'll find him, "his claws in rigor mortis, joined as if in prayer."
I wouldn't want it to die, though.
Hush!
Don't touch!
I'm sorry, it hurts!
- What happened? - Get out!
Nelu, help me, please!
Now, of all times?
- Nelu, take me to a doctor! - Right away.
- What were you thinking? - I'm sorry.
Do come by again.
so many lives had expired in that darkness, yet it stayed thick,
with no trace of the lives that had passed inside it
I can do it myself.
No need to tire yourself while we're here.
But it's very easy.
I can do so many things.
You were telling me about Samuel.
He had come over with some kosher mutton.
I don't like it that you can't eat kosher here.
You should follow tradition at least occasionally.
Let him be.
Let me tell him about it.
When Sami went to bed, once we heard him snore,
we went to his room with Efraim. He was sleeping in your room.
Upstairs.
Efraim got under the bed and I snuck in the wardrobe.
Then Efraim started to shake the bed and go...
Sorry!
From the closet, I was going: "Boo!"
Sami thought it was an earthquake, got scared and...
- Out the window. - He's so daft!
No, he was scared.
He spent hours under the rubble after the 1910 quake.
- So? - We got scared, too.
He was lying there, like he was dead.
But he only had a broken hip.
He was lucky. We were, too.
- Was he angry? - He said he'd sue us.
He was yelling "I'll send you all to prison!"
We tried to pacify him - "Sami, it was a joke,"
"you can't take a joke?"
It goes to show what a joke can do.
He hasn't forgiven us.
Still, it's daft, jumping out the window.
Daft! He thought he was at home.
Their house doesn't have an upper floor.
Like Itzhak falling into the gorge...
- Don't! - Let me tell him.
Itzhak falls into a gorge.
He grabs onto a branch and starts calling: "Help!"
The voice of Yahweh booms:
"Let go, two of My angels will catch you!"
Ytzhak goes: "Is there anyone else up there?"
Now that's kosher!
- Now it's sunny. - Freezing sunny.
It's still cold.
Come in.
- Hello, Miss. - Hello.
Here is your meal.
Is Manu behaving?
He's a well-behaved patient.
- He was just as sober as a child. - Mum!
He used to talk to imaginary people.
Any trifle would shake him to tears.
He could cry endlessly for no reason.
Now he doesn't cry anymore.
Later, he got prizes for everything.
It's true! He was so intelligent he scared his teachers.
- And his poems! - No one understood them.
- A chocolate, Miss? - True, no one did.
Take two, maybe it's twins.
- Thank you. - Please.
- Have a good day. - Goodbye.
Rachelica Nachmansohn!
The chocolates.
Maybe they'll make the tea taste better.
Let's go, we'll miss our train.
- Come on! - Let's stay a bit longer.
Cold.
I'm so glad we could see you.
Me too.
futility filled the world like oozing liquid, and the sky,
ever fair, absurd and undefined, took on the colour of despair
- The doctor said she got worse. - How so?
Her whole right leg is covered in sores and open fistulas.
Oh my!
They might have to cut her leg.
- Does Isa know? - She suspects nothing.
Don't tell her or she'll get sick.
Alright.
The doctor told her she has to go to another hospital.
For surgery, so she could get well.
She's happy, she thinks she's as good as healed.
Has anyone told her mother?
I called her myself.
- Poor thing. - She's going to the hospital.
such selfishness, security and petty moral guile in watching
an ill man, knowing he will die soon while he suspects nothing
I'll tell you a secret.
It's my greatest secret, don't tell anyone.
I won't.
Granny Leana and I play cards every day.
We don't play for stakes, but in my head I'm betting days.
- Meaning? - Days of life.
The points I win from her are days added to my life.
And deducted from hers.
I see.
I've won about 400 days.
Over a year.
She knows nothing, she keeps bloating.
And I look better each day.
Yes, that's right.
If I could, I'd accompany you for the surgery, but...
Katty will come.
She doesn't need the cane now.
Maybe I'll win at cards all the days of Granny's life.
She will die next to me...
When I get well, we'll go dance at a music hall.
What do you say?
Yes.
I will practice assiduously on my deathbed.
Practice!
her death was my death and all I've lived since
bears the immobility of my future death, cold and obscure
Is it bad?
Don't speak nonsense, it will heal...
Change his bandages.
We'll see this through, don't worry.
All done.
only his mother tucked him in like that, back when he was a boy
Stop petting me.
When I die, don't come to my funeral.
I forbid you to.
You won't die. You'll get well, I promise.
Forgive me.
I'm not thinking straight.
I don't like to complain, I abhor sentimentalisms.
It's alright.
No, it isn't.
In a way, you're right.
I'll think about us and decide in a few months.
You think about it as well.
I already told you.
Reconsider.
I had a dream.
What dream?
I dreamt I was here, in my room,
but it was all weird.
Then I was walking in the fields
and I've found a dead horse.
Rotten.
But the skull was splendid, like ivory.
White, with large, yellow teeth laid bare.
I realised these windows were the eye sockets of that skull.
I was inside the horse's skull.
The cracks on the walls were the bones' joints.
And the books in here were teeth.
The horse's teeth.
So I was inside its skull.
How did it end?
That was all.
I was on the concrete.
I was shivering with cold.
And I didn't know what to do.
I don't believe in dreams.
I was on the concrete, shivering, and I didn't know what to do.
Give this to the doctor as soon as you get there.
Your father will be at the train station in Bucharest,
with an ambulance from Saint Vincent de Paul.
They'll do the surgery there.
Come back here for recovery!
Thank you so much.
I'm so sorry we're lacking the conditions for surgery.
Be brave!
all my despair was roaring painfully inside me
The Guard and the Captain turn us into iron hawks,
The Guard, the Captain and the Divine Archangel!
It won't fit through the door.
Come here!
I'll grab it from here.
- Please, not feet first. - Why not?
- It's a bad omen. - Turn him around.
Let us pass.
He's an invalid.
Get to your seats, children.
We'll manage somehow.
Sit down.
- What does he suffer from? - Leave him alone.
How will the waiter pass?
dirt fell onto the planks, and the sweaty, tired people
continued their imperious life