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Mother Night (1996)
MOTHER NIGH "Police"
"Haifa, Israel 1961" Do you prefer German or English? English. You are to write down your memoirs | for the Haifa Institute... for the documentation | of war criminals. You have three weeks to complete | your memoirs before your trial begins. Do you have any questions? No. This is great. | Thanks for everything. "Jews, Negroes... | Mongrel" You are the only man I know who has | a bad conscience about the war. Who is this? Bernard Liebman. I have guard duty | from 2:00 till 10:00. Oh. I see. Everyone else on either side... is convinced he couldn't have acted | in any other way. How do you know I have | a bad conscience? The way you talk | in your sleep. I can tell something | is troubling you. What do you imagine | is troubling me, Bernard Liebman? All I heard were | a couple of names. "Helga" was one. "Hoess" was the other one. I knew Hoess. He had no trouble sleeping. Slept like a baby | right up to the end. You know this? I guess so. I helped hang him. - With your testimony? | - No. With my hands. Did that give you | lots of satisfaction? My job was to strap his ankles. I did a very good job. I see. Afterwards, I packed my bags | to go home. The catch on my suitcase | was broken... so I buckled it shut | with a big leather strap. Twice, within one hour... I did the very same job. Once to Hoess... once to my suitcase. Both jobs felt about the same. Yeah. I, Howard W. Campbell, Jr., | am an American by birth... a Nazi by reputation... and a nationless person | by inclination. I am awaiting a fair trial for | my war crimes by the state of Israel. I was born in Schenectady, New York, | on February 16, 1904. My father was raised | in Tennessee... the son of a Baptist minister. He was a service engineer | for General Electric. Because of his work... most of his reading consisted | of tradejournals and technical books. There were a few | notable exceptions. Howard! In 1919, when General Electric | relocated my father... we left Schenectady | and moved to Berlin, Germany. By 1938... I had become a successful | playwright in the German language... and I had married | the young, beautiful... and famous German actress Helga Noth. When my parents left Germany... they asked me to return | to the United States with them. I didn't. "My dear, sweet Eva... this is the only way... I know how to make good... the frightful wrong | which has befallen us. It does not matter | what lies ahead... for I have | a full life behind me... all in those few, | sweet hours with you. I once told you | that I would pledge my life... for our nation of two... and reside there... even in death... as surely as I reside in heaven... when your arms are around me. Soon it will be time | to keep that pledge... and I rejoice to think... that earthly distractions | will no longer intrude... on my eternal devotion to you. From this moment forward... our nation of two... is the only country... I will know. " As the insanity of the world | descended on us... my Helga and I survived | by pledging our undying loyalty... to the only nation | that made any sense to us. It was called | das Reich der Zwei... "the nation of two. " It was only one month after my parents | returned to the United States... three years before America | would enter the war... when I first met | my blue fairy godmother. I call him that because no one | believes he existed but me. But he really does exist... | or at least he did... on that Sunday afternoon | so long ago in Berlin. Nice-lookin' men. I suppose. - Do you speak English? | - Yes. Thank God. I've been goin' crazy | tryin' to find someone to talk to. Pardon me? I'm sorry. You mind if I come over there | so we don't have to holler? As you please. "As you please. " That sounds like | somethin' an Englishman would say. - You English, are ya? | - No, I'm American. That a fact? Any of my beeswax | what you do for a living? - Writer. | - No kiddin'! Well, there's a coincidence, | 'cause I was just sittin' over there... wishin' I could write... 'cause I thought up | one hell of a story. There's this American, see? And he's been livin' in Germany so long | he's practically a German himself. He writes plays in German, is married | to a beautiful German actress. He knows a lot of big-shot Nazis | who like to hang around theater people. Who are you? Oh, wait a minute. | This gets better. So this fella knows | there's a war comin'. America's gonna be on one side, | Germany's gonna be on the other. So this American, who's been nothin' | but polite to the Nazis so far... decides to pretend | he's a Nazi himself... and he stays on in Germany | once the war comes... and gets to be | a very useful American spy. I asked, "Who are you?" I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I got so carried away I just... Here you go. | That's me. "U.S. War Department | Wirtanen, Frank - Major" So, Mr. Campbell, | what'd you think of my little story? What did I think of it? | Oh, I don't think much of it. I mean, it's highly implausible. | It's ridiculous. Oh, that's okay, 'cause... today isn't when you give me | your final answer, anyway. Final answer? If you imagine that I'm gonna go home | and think this over, you're mistaken. I'm gonna sleep like a log. I'm not a political man. | I'm just not. I'm an artist. If a war comes, it's just gonna | have to get along without me. Well, I wish ya | all the luck in the world, Howard. The worse this Nazi thing gets... the less anyone's | gonna sleep like a log. Well, I don't know. | Maybe. We'll see. That's right. We'll see. That's why I don't expect | your final answer today. If you go through with this, | it'll be strictly on your own... working your way up with the Nazis | as high as you can go. To do this right, you'll have to commit | nothing less than high treason. Even if you do live through the war | without being caught... your government will never | acknowledge your role as an agent. We couldn't afford | the security breach. You come lookin' for a pardon... they'll deny | they ever heard of ya. You'd be left hung out to dry. You make it sound so attractive. Oh, I have a feeling I've made it | sound very attractive to you, Howard. - I've seen your plays. | - Really? And what did you learn from them? You're obsessed with the notion | of pure hearts and heroism. You love good, | and you hate evil... and you'd sacrifice anything | in the name of romance. I'll be in touch. It was every playwright's | secret dream... to create the most challenging role | I could imagine... and then play the part myself. Cue theme music. "Three Years Later" "Good afternoon, | ladies and gentlemen. This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr... the last free American... speaking to you from Berlin, Germany, | the heart of the free world. There is a fine article | in the current Reader's Digest... entitled | 'There Are No Atheists in Foxholes. ' Well, today I would like | to expand on this theme a little... and tell you that even though | this is a war inspired by the Jews... a war that only | the Jews can profit from... you will find there are | no Jews in foxholes either. Every G.I. Joe knows... " Every Sunday afternoon | wherever my voice could be heard... people stopped whatever they were | doing just to hear what I'd say next. Even Berlin's chief of police | and his family were devoted listeners... and not just because | they were my in-laws. "Now, to the American folks | at home... I want you to think of all the Jews | living in your neighborhood. " It took me only a couple of hours | to write each speech... after which I'd hand it over to | the propaganda ministry for their notes. Among those who examined it | was another Allied agent... whose identity never was | revealed to me. "Do they have more | or less gasoline?" My speech would be returned | with all sorts of notations... including those left | by my fellow spy. "To these questions... " These markings would dictate | certain vocal mannerisms... pauses, emphases... coughs, stumbles, | throat-clearings. "Now let me ask you this: Do you know of | a single Jewish family... that has ever received | a telegram from Washington... that begins... 'The secretary of war | expresses his deep regret... that your son was killed | in defense of his country'? Of course not. No Jewish family would ever | receive such a telegram... thanks to a personal guarantee | from the American dictator... Franklin Delano Rosenfeld. " It was in this manner that I broadcast | coded information out of Germany. I don't know to this day | what information went out through me. "Why do you take arms | against your German brothers? You know that Germany's objectives | are the same as your own. You must understand | that theJews... can only thrive in a nation | which lives in slavery. So, my brothers... lay down your arms. By fighting this war, you'll only | fortify the bank accounts... of your political leaders | who blindly serve theirJewish masters. This has been | Howard W. Campbell, Jr... the last free American. Thank you for listening. | Heil Hitler. " You are a murderer. You are a coward. You are all cowards! You are murdering children! You should rot in hell! Damn you! Howard just | instinctively understands... the German ideal | of right and wrong... the certain triumph | of good over evil... and the redemptive power of romance. Just promise me one thing: You will not leave | the propaganda ministry... and return | to playwrighting full-time. Little chance of that, | Herr Goebbels. I've always found it ironic | that the man... who so eloquently communicates | our ideals to the masses... should be born in America. Well, it's not so ironic. I consider myself a spiritual native | of my adopted fatherland. Something i've always wondered, | Herr Campbell: Do you ever miss America? Sometimes. Of course I do. But I could never be happy | with the Jews in charge of everything. Jews. The Jews will be | taken care of in due time. Our friend Hoess here is seeing to it | at a resort he's running in Auschwitz. My wife and I live | for that day. Is there a chance we might | meet Mrs. Campbell? Yes. Of course, Herr Hoess. I'll ask Helga to join us, | if you'll excuse me. If that woman walked off a cliff, | I swear, Howard would follow her. Time passed. I never told my Helga | I was a spy. To tell her would only | put her in danger... and make her live | in constant fear. So I hid my true self | from her... knowing that politics had no place | in our nation of two. I suppose the moral here is: You must be careful | what you pretend to be... because in the end | you are what you pretend to be. History says | the war ended in 1945. In fact, | it ended one year earlier. My nation of two was | the loser... insanity the victor. There were no prisoners... no survivors. Why would the Germans | want to kill my Helga? Sir... I said enemy guns. The Russians. It was Russian fire. Russian. It was tragic timing, sir. The Russians fired | on the Crimean camp... where she was | entertaining troops. Reich Marshal Goering will issue | an official commendation... for Mrs. Campbell's bravery. I am sure | she would be very proud. Yes. Yes, of course. Is there anything I can do for you, | Herr Campbell? Please. "Good afternoon, | ladies and gentlemen. This is | Howard W. Campbell, Jr... the last free American... speaking to you | from Berlin, Germany... the heart of the free world. As you know, | the Bolshevik hordes... continue their barbaric | advance towards Berlin. Let theJewish leaders who are | exalted by our temporary setbacks... be warned that National Socialism | will never allow Germany... to fall under the heels | of the black beast... who terrorizes | our women and children. As for my American brothers... you are fools | if you believe your dictator... Franklin Delano Rosenfeld, | is concerned with your welfare. If you fail to heed | the warning of your Aryan brothers... the fate that awaits you | is the fate you deserve. German victory is certain, | for it is a moral victory. The final blow will be | struck by Adolf Hitler. This has been | Howard W. Campbell, Jr... the last free American. You may not hear from me | for a while. Thank you for listening. | Heil Hitler. " - Howard. | - Herr Noth. Interesting time | to visit your in-laws. If you wish to stay a while, | perhaps you can help me... greet the Russians | when they arrive. I'm going to the front. Right over that way. An easy walk from here. | You can make it in a day... picking buttercups as you go. May I ask | where you're moving to? I'm staying here. My wife is at my brother's home | in Cologne. Resi will join her today. - But why stay here? | - With the Russian army at my doorstep? I'm still the chief of police. I'll not have my people say | I fled with my tail between my legs. Is there anything I can do? Yes. | You can shoot Resi's dog. It can't make the trip, | and I can't take care of it here... so you can shoot it. - Where is it? | - In the music room with Resi. She knows it's to be shot. | You'll have no trouble with her. All right. You broke my heart | when you married my daughter. I wanted a German soldier | for a son-in-law. Yes. I know. Because I hated you so much, | I studied you. I listened to everything you said. Never missed a broadcast. Did you know that | until this very moment... nothing would have | delighted me more... than to prove you were a spy... to see you shot? Now I couldn't care less | if you are a spy. - Do you know why? | - No. Because now I know | that even if you were a spy... you could never have served the enemy | as well as you served us. All the ideals that make me | proud of being a Nazi... they came not from Hitler... not from Goebbels... but from you. You alone kept me from concluding | that Germany had gone insane. Now, look how you've grown. You are here to kill my dog... aren't you? Yes. But, Resi, it's not something | I want to do very much. That's all right. I never liked it anyway. I just felt sorry for it. I'm going to the front. | I just came to say good-bye. Which front? The Russian. You'll die, then? Well, maybe not. Everybody who isn't dead now | will be dead soon... including me. I'm sure you're going to be fine. That's all right. | It won't hurt. Suddenly I just | won't be anymore. Since we'll all be dead soon, | I might as well tell you something. What is it? I love you. Oh, Resi, | that's very sweet. No. I mean I really love you. When Helga was alive | and you two would come here... sometimes I envied her, | and sometimes I hated her. When she died, I dreamt | I would grow up and marry you... and be a famous actress, | and you'd write plays for me. I see. I'm very honored. That's all right. | It doesn't mean anything now. Nothing means anything. Go ahead and shoot the dog. Resi was only half right. From what I could gather, | she was dead before long... but I went on living. Had I actually traveled | to the Russian front... surely I would have died | as Resi predicted. Instead, I motorcycled around | the German countryside... thinking I could simply | wait out the war. My little respite ended | two months later... when I was captured by Lieutenant | Bernard B. O'Hare, American 3rd Army. I had said "good morning" | to him in passing... and he recognized my voice | from the radio broadcasts. O'Hare seemed to take all | the things I said rather personally. After my capture, | the American army escorted me... on a private tour | of the Nazi death camp at Oerdre. They thought it would be | interesting to see my reaction... to the fruits of my labor. Take a good look | at your Kraut friends, Campbell... 'cause you're next. To me, | they looked quite peaceful. Two days later I was driven away | by two American soldiers. I couldn't quite tell | if they knew who I was. Well, Howard... what did you think of that war? Is that you, Wirtanen? I got to hand it to you... | you lived through it. - A lot of people didn't, you know. | - Yes. Yes, I know. I know. My wife. | My wife, for instance. Yeah. Sorry about that. I found out | about that a few days before you did. You found out about it before me? | How did you find that out? That was one of the pieces | of information you broadcast that week. I broadcast that... that my wife had died? I didn't even know it? | You knew she was dead and I didn't? I would have liked | to have mourned. Well, what happens to me now? You've already disappeared. The 3rd Army's been relieved of ya. | There's no records to show your capture. So, Howard, | where do you want to go from here? Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose there's a hero's | welcome waiting for me anywhere. Hardly. We can't exactly start bragging | about all the clever tricks we pulled. We might need them again | for the next war. No, your role | will remain classified... and Uncle Sam's official position is | that you're the scum of the earth. Scum of the earth, huh? What about my parents? I'm sorry, Howard. | They both died about six months ago. Both? Father first, and your mother | two days later. Heart both times. Did anyone tell them | what I was really doing? Come on, Howard. | What were we supposed to do? Sacrifice our radio station | in the heart of Berlin... for the peace of mind | of two old people? Oh, no, no. We wouldn't want that! | How many people knew what I was doing? - There were three of us. | - Just three? - It's probably too many. | - Three people knew me for what I was? Everyone else knew you | for what you were, too. Wait. How can you say that? | You think I'm a Nazi? I wasn't a Nazi. Well, let me ask you | something, Howard: What would you have done | if Germany had won the war? Marched right up to your pal | Goebbels and surrendered? Told him you were actually | a patriotic American spy? Yes, I might have marched in there! | I might have escaped. I don't know. Oh, all right. | You want me to be a Nazi? You go ahead. | Classify me as a Nazi. You want to hang me? Go ahead | if you think it'll raise morale. I don't consider this life | any great treasure. Well, I just want you to know | how little we can really do for you. How little? False identity, some cash, | transportation to a new place... Anywhere you'd like to go, Howard? | How 'bout New York? You can lose yourself pretty easily. | Plenty of work if you want it. All right. | New York then. Of the three that knew | I was a spy, who were the other two? The second was | General Donovan of the O.S. S... and the third, | I'm sorry to say, is dead. You used to attack him | every night on your broadcast. You called him | Franklin Delano Rosenfeld. He got a big kick out of that. | He used to listen to you every night. "Life" "New York City | 1960" At first I lived | under a false name. The idea was to start | from scratch, lead a new life. After a while, though, it became clear | that I really had no life... so the alias became unnecessary... and I went back | to using my own name. No one ever asked whether I was | the Howard W. Campbell, Jr. All of my belongings, | like myself, were war surplus... coming from recreation kits | intended for troops overseas. They even included | phonograph records... so I became the proud owner of 26 copies | of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas. " "Property of U.S. Gov't" I survived my purgatory | in New York... the same way I survived | the hell of wartime Germany... I let my emotions be stirred | by only one thing... my love for Helga. It remained the permanent axis | about which my thoughts revolved. To you, my love... to your beauty | and to my undying devotion. To das Reich der Zwei... nation of two. It's very nice, isn't it? It's very dry. Just the way you like it, hmm? Yes. - Dr. Epstein? | - Yes. I'm your neighbor from upstairs. I've cut myself. Well, you won't need stitches. The blood often makes these things | look worse than they really are. Well, thank you, Doctor. | I'm very grateful. No problem. I'm only sorry it took this | to provide an introduction. Yes, yes. | No, you're right. That's a very famous name | you have. Pardon me? You never heard of | Howard W. Campbell, Jr... broadcasting from Berlin? From Berlin... Yes, I do remember now. It was a long time ago. I never listened to him, | but I remember he was in the news. Those things fade. Those things should fade. That insane moment in history | should be forgotten. You know of Auschwitz? Yes, yes, of course | I know of Auschwitz. That is where I spent | my young womanhood... and my son the doctor here... he spent his childhood. - Oh, well, I'm sorry. | - Forget Auschwitz. It doesn't do any good. There. No need for amputation. - Just keep it dry for a few days. | - Well, thank you. No problem. | I'll see you out. What? Pardon me? I asked if you spoke German. Oh. No, no, no. | I'm afraid not. Good-bye. | That's "good-bye," isn't it? It's "till we meet again. " Oh. Till we meet again. Well, auf Wiedersehen. Yes. Yes? Campbell, it's Adolph Eichmann. I'm in the cell above you. Yes, Eichmann. Hello. You're always typing in there... day and night | and night and day... typing, typing, typing... Is it bothering you? No. I'm a heavy sleeper. I'm only curious. | Are you preparing your memoir? Yes. A command performance | for the Haifa Institute. You're a lucky man. I'm lucky? How do you consider me lucky? You can type. | I'm writing mine longhand. One day I got the idea that a hobby | might help pass the time in purgatory. Ironically... in my solitude | I had created something... that could only be used in concert | with another human being. Yeah. George Kraft? Who is it? I'm Howard Campbell, | your neighbor from upstairs. What do you want? I want to know if you play chess. I didn't know I had a painter | living under me. Where do you show your work? I don't show my work. Well, you should. You been painting all your life? No, not really. My wife died four years ago... and I had the choice of either... coming to Greenwich Village to be | a painter or blowing my brains out... so I flipped a coin, and here I am. At least you had painting | you could turn to. What does that mean? | You mean you lost your wife too? Yeah. I see you in the hallway | and I say, "yes... this man too | is a member of the brotherhood. " - The brotherhood? | - Brotherhood of the walking wounded. World's largest organization, and you | don't know it exists until you're in it. You become a member when you lose | the one thing that gives life meaning. And the thing that bonds you together, | that holds the group in one piece... is the fact that the members | are absolutely incapable... of speaking to one another. Sorry. | I don't mean to rattle on. How'd you lose your wife? I can't speak about it. Well, of course | you can't speak about it. You're a member | of the brotherhood. The day came | that I told him everything. It all spilled out of me... You know, I knew the war was over, | and Germany was going to lose... and here I was an American spy. My parents, | my boyhood in Germany... about Helga | and our nation of two... my blue fairy godmother, | the speeches, the code... my capture | and my banishment to purgatory. I didn't have anything to live for. | I lost my wife, I lost my nation of two. George Kraft, my only living friend, | took it all in stride. Yeah, but why doesn't | the government come forward and say... "This man you're spitting on | is a hero"? George, nobody spits on me. Nobody even knows I'm alive. Life continued unchanged... for a while. "The White Christian Minuteman | Supreme Court Demands U.S. Be Mongrel" "An American Tragedy!" Howard W. Campbell, Jr., a great writer | and fearless American patriot... now lives in poverty and in loneliness | in a one-bedroom apartment... at 61 Bethune Street | in New York City. Such is the fate of thinking men | brave enough to tell the truth... about the conspiracy of international | Jewish bankers and communists... who won't rest until the body of every | American is hopelessly polluted... with Negro and/ or Oriental blood. " Maybe it was that lady downstairs... | Epstein's mother. Why wouldn't she just | call the authorities? Why would she send my address | to some racist newsletter? Why don't you set the record straight? | It's time you wrote again anyway. I'm afraid dead men don't | write very well. That's not true. | All the best writers are dead. That's the most truthful thing | you've said today. Listen to me. | It's because while you're dead... you have nothing to lose, | you can be completely courageous. Find yourself a woman, | start writing again. - A woman? | - A woman. George, you better stop drinking. | My portrait's gonna look like a Picasso. - Don't change the subject. | - I'm not changing the subject. - Sit up. | - I am sitting up. All right, I tell you what. | You get a woman, then I'll get one. I don't need a woman. | I'm on fire for my muse. You, however... | you're a mortal. You need a woman. - I already got one. | - No, you don't. - Yes, I do. | - Had a woman. - Past tense. She's dead. | - I don't wanna talk about this. I'm only telling | you what you need to hear. - If you're gonna speak the truth... | - Oh, God, did I hit a nerve? - No, you didn't hit a nerve. I'm fine. | - I am so sorry. No, don't be sorry. | Don't be humble, George. - I'm abject. I feel really... | - No, you're not abject. - Go ahead, talk. I can't hear you. | - God, I just... I just shoot my mouth off, | and I... I don't know... | I'm gonna... One, two, three, rest. One, two, three, four. - Who is it? | - Howard W. Campbell, Jr.? Who is it? It's the Reverend Dr. Lionel Jones... D.D.S., D.D. I presume you received | our complimentary issue... of the White Christian Minuteman. It's all right, Howard. | I'm with friends. Howard W. Campbell. What an honor. I feel as if my whole life | was leading up to this moment. How do you do? Please, allow me to introduce you | to my bodyguard... August Krapptauer. Vice Bundesfuehrer Emeritus | at the German-American Bund. A great, great pleasure, | Mr. Campbell. And my secretary, | Father Patrick Keeley... former chaplain | of the Detroit Gun Club. Words fail me, Herr Campbell. Likewise, I'm sure. - Could we get some water? | - Yeah, of course, of course. The climb up your stairs was | quite an effort for our Mr. Krapptauer. Might we bother you | for a glass of water? All right. Come on in. This is my good friend | and neighbor, George Kraft. How do you do? - Yours? | - Yes. What a marvelous likeness | of our Mr. Campbell. You've done a masterful job | capturing the jaw line. Have you a background | in dentistry? Dentistry? No. Well, as one who's devoted his life | to dental medicine... allow me to say that you have | perfectly duplicated... Mr. Campbell's Aryan jaw line. - Oh, I'm thrilled that you noticed. | - How could I miss it? Are you familiar with my book, | Christ Was Not a Jew? I could never find a copy. Oh, that's too bad. Father Keeley, make a note | that we must send Mr. Kraft... an autographed copy. In it, I reproduce | 50 famous paintings of Christ... and point out that not one of them | shows Jewish jaws or teeth. - I don't know what to say. | - Well... I had to publish the book myself. But what can you expect when | the publishing industry is run by Jews? Oh, of course, forgive me. I've been talking so much, | I almost forgot what brought us here. What does bring you here, Jones? A surprise for you, Mr. Campbell, | waiting downstairs. Why don't you just tell me | what this is about? Forgive me, Mr. Campbell... but I have promised | not to spoil the surprise. Now, I give my word... | if you're displeased... we'll take it away with us | and leave you in peace. - Where is it? | - At the bottom of the stairwell. You can't miss it. All right. - Want me to go with you? | - No. I'll be right back. There is no room | in your life for me. I will say good-bye... and I will never bother you again. No room in my life? My life is nothing | but room for you. God, you're alive. | How can it be? Oh, look at you. | You haven't changed. - I have so much to tell. | - Yes. I always knew you'd come back. | I always knew that. I just didn't know when or how. There's somebody I want you to meet. | I want you to meet George Kraft. - This is Helga. | - Hello. Welcome. I presume you weren't disappointed. How did you do this? | How did you bring my wife back to me? A subscriber in West Germany | wired me... that Mrs. Campbell had just arrived | as a refugee. One day I learn that you're alive... a month later | that your wife is alive. Now, what can I call a coincident | like that but the hand of God? Why don't we let Mr. And Mrs. Campbell | have a few minutes alone now? Yes, of course. Our chauffeur will | bring up Mrs. Campbell's bags. No need, no need. - You fool, what are you doing? | - I'm fine, perfectly fine. You're risking your life, | exerting yourself like that. It's an honor to risk my life | for a man who served Adolph Hitler... as well as Howard W. Campbell, Jr. He's gone. Maybe I should call an ambulance. | Yes. That's terrible, just terrible. Poor, dear August. Who's going to carry | the torch now? Excuse me? | Everything all right up here? No, as a matter of fact. | August just died. Oh, no. That's a shame. - Now, that's a real shame. | - Mr. Campbell... Robert Sterling Wilson, | the black fuehrer of Harlem. I heard about you, | but I never listened to you. - That's all right. | - We was on different sides. See, I was on the side with the colored | folks. I was with the Japanese. I hear you say you didn't think | colored folks was so good. Now, Robert, let's not squabble | amongst ourselves. Let's all work to pull together. Now I'm just telling him like I tell you | and the reverend every morning. Colored people gonna have | a hydrogen bomb all their own... and pretty soon they gonna give Japan | the honor of dropping the first one. Where? China, I guess. On other colored people? Now whoever told you | a Chinaman was colored? Mutter, Vatter und Resi... are all dead. Yeah. Yes, I know. But I... I am alive. How? Well, I... It's all right. | It doesn't matter. Our life starts tonight. We'll check into a hotel. Tomorrow we'll find | a new place to live. I've found an old store | that has our bed in it. Do you remember our old bed? - Yeah. | - Ja. We'll start again | right where we left off. Nation of two. - Us. | - That's right. Yeah. But... we do not have to | check in to a hotel. It's been so long. I'm no longer a young man. She had been captured and raped | in the Crimea... and then shipped to the Ukraine | and put to work on a labor gang. Nobody told her the war was over. After her repatriation, she was sent | to Dresden, East Germany... and put to work | in a cigarette factory. Eventually, | she escaped to West Berlin... and days later, | she was flying back to my embrace. All that mattered now was that | our nation of two was whole again. - Hello. | - Hello. Welcome home. Now here... | Here it is right here. Excuse us. Here. Helga, right here. | Here's the bed. It's locked. Veterans Day. | It's Veterans Day. Damn it. Oh, goddamn it! Howard, you have changed. Forgive me, I'm sorry. Yes, I've changed, but people should | be changed by world wars. Otherwise, what are world wars for? Maybe you have changed so much | that you do not love me anymore. How could you say that | after last night, huh? We really have not talked | anything over. But, Helga, what is there | to talk about? No words could change | the way I feel. Do you mean it? Yes, of course I mean it. Nothing I could say | could spoil it. Nothing you could ever say | could spoil it. Never, never. I'm not Helga. I'm Resi... her little sister. What? You said you loved me. - How could you do this to me? | - I love you. You love me? How could you love me? | You don't even know who I am. When I got to West Berlin... they gave me papers | to fill out... name, occupation, | nearest living relative. I had a choice. | I could stay Resi Noth... secret machine operator | with no family anywhere... or I could be Helga Noth... famous actress and wife | of a brilliant, handsome playwright... living in America. A man I love deeply. Who should I have been? Howard, for ten years | in that factory... the only things that kept me alive | were daydreams of being my sister Helga. So Resi disappeared. I don't know what to say. You picked a hell of a person to be. That is who I am. I am Helga. You believed it. Was I or was I not Helga | to you last night? That's a hell of a question | to ask a gentleman. Am I entitled to an answer? Would you sometime | write a play for me? I don't think I can write anymore. Did Helga inspire you to write? Not to write, | but to write the way I wrote. We used to say that | I wrote parts for her... that let her play | the quintessence of Helga. I want you to do that | for me one day. The q... - The quintes... | - Quintessence. The quintessence of Resi. Maybe I will. Resi was growing younger | by the second. Although she had bleached her hair white | to appear older... it now spoke to me of peroxide... and girls who run away to Hollywood. Finally, I have a home. It takes a heap of living | to make a house a home. - Who did that? | - Who did what? That. Howard Campbell? You know him? It's funny... | You look just like him. Don't that look | like the gentleman you're with? Let me see. "Israel Locates | War Criminal in U.S." Before the Jews put you in the zoo, | I'm gonna have some fun with you myself. You felt that one, huh? | That was for Private Irvin Buchanan. - Is that you? | - No, he was my best friend. Five miles in from Omaha Beach, | the Germans, they cut his nuts off... and they hung him | from a telephone pole. And this... this is for Axel Brewer. He got run over | by a tiger tank in Aachen. - This is for Eddie McCarty. | - Please! He got cut in half | by a schmeizer. And this... this is for... Do not speak, liebling. - Where are we? | - We are safe. You have been asleep. | They will not find us here. - Who won't find us here? | - The Jews, sweetheart. What's on my chest? You had your ribs taped up. By whom? The doctor who lives | in your building. - Epstein. | - Ja, that was him. He was very nice. I used his phone to call Dr. Jones, | and he brought us here. How nice to have friends. Ja, come in. - How's he doing? | - He has just woken up. How's your head? Splitting. - You ought to take an aspirin. | - Thanks for the advice. You see, most things in this world | don't work, but aspirin do. Resi, the newspapers... Is it true the Israelis | want to put me on trial? Dr. Jones says the American government | will not let you go... but the Jews will send men | to kidnap you... like they did Herr Eichmann. It ain't like having a Jew here, | a Jew there after you. They got everything after you | but the Jewish hydrogen bomb. What the hell is that? That was your friend. - Jones? | - No, George Kraft. What's George doing here? He is coming with us. | We are all leaving the country. Dr. Jones has made | the arrangements. Howard! Look who's up and around. | How do you feel? I'd stand a better chance if it weren't | for the racket you're making. Sorry, just killing a little time. | God, you scared me half to death. I was worried sick about you. You know, it was bound to happen | sooner or later. Well, it's all for the best. | You'll see. You'll have a new identity, | get a new place, new country... be able to start writing again. I might even be a better painter | in Mexico. - Mexico? | - Well, look who's back on his feet. Well, I guess you can't keep | a good man down. That's the spirit. | Howard... Wednesday night is | the weekly meeting... of the Iron Guard of the White Sons | of the American Constitution. Father Keeley and I want to stage a | memorial service for August Krapptauer. We thought that perhaps you, | being Krapptauer's mentor... might say a few words. I've thought of a general theme, | if that helps. I'm sure I could use one. I think the theme should be... "His Truth Goes Marching On. " What could I possibly say | to a bunch of junior storm troopers? I knew their fearless leader | for all of 20 seconds... before he dropped dead | on my stairway. You'll find the right words. You always do. When we get to Mexico... I'm going to write again. Did I have something to do | with this miracle? Mm-hmm, everything. Very little, but some. Yes. The real miracle... is the talent you were born with. The real miracle is your ability | to raise the dead. - The love does that. | - Yes. It raised me too. Today, the mayor admitted | his embarrassment... that a notorious war criminal | had been living an anonymous life... in New York | for at least some of that time. He also noted that neither he | nor the United States government... have any authority to hand Campbell over | to the Israeli government for trial. However, it all may be a moot point. Howard W. Campbell has, | once again, escaped without a trace. This is Campbell's | last known residence. The modest apartment in Greenwich | Village has been vandalized... by locals angered by Campbell's | latest escape from justice. The United States government | has promised to make a full review... of Campbell's citizenship status... and to find out why he was never | brought to trial previously. In the meantime, Israel has stepped up | its demands for Campbell... encouraged by the idea that he may not | be a citizen of the U. S... that he may, in fact, | be a citizen of nowhere at all. We must never forget that a propagandist | of Campbell's sort... "Israeli Vice-Consul" is every bit as much of a mass murderer | as Eichmann, Himmler and even Hitler. How many millions of people | lost their lives... because of the lies he spread | during the war? We will find Campbell, | just as we found Eichmann. A man can't hide forever | when his hands are covered... with the blood | of six million human beings. "Work Makes You Free" | Howard W. Campbell, Jr... wanted to be here tonight... to tell you of his long and fulfilling | association with your fallen hero. But he's asked me to make this | brief statement to you... on his behalf. The truth of your leader, | August Krapptauer, and those like him... will be with mankind forever... as long as there are men and women | who listen to their guts... instead of their minds. And now for a special treat. A subscriber to the | White Christian Minuteman in Vermont... has made us a loan | of some very rare material... which I'm sure you'll find | most inspiring. Robert? Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. | This is Howard W. Campbell, Jr... the last free American. Tonight, I would like to ask | a common question: Why are we enemies of theJew? The answer is simple. TheJew is the cause | and the beneficiary of our slavery. He has made two halves | of the fatherland. TheJew has no interest in the solution | of Germany's problems. He can't. | He wants them to remain unsolved. You see, he has a better trump in | his hand if a nation lives in slavery... than one that is free. TheJew is the cause | of our misery... and today he lives on our trust. And that is why, | as National Socialists... we are enemies of theJew. He has ruined our race, | rotted our morals... corrupted our traditions | and broken our power. As long as we are true | to our Aryan heritage... he is a leper among us. If we ignore our destiny, he will | triumph over us and our future. TheJew is the plastic demon | of the fall of mankind. He thrives in filth and garbage, | and he spreads disease. He steals our possessions | and lusts after our women. He pretends to be afraid | of this victim... and before the unfortunate one knows it, | his neck is broken. We areJew-haters | because we are proud to be Aryans. It isn't true that we eat a Jew | with every breakfast. But it is true that theJew | is slowly eating away at our future. That is going to change | as surely as we are Aryans... as surely as world supremacy... is the birthright | of the Aryan race. "Leave Thru Coal Bin Door. Cross Alley #645. Life | In Danger!" This has been Howard W. Campbell, Jr... the last free American. Thank you for listening. Heil Hitler. I gotta admit, Howard, act three | had me on the edge of my seat. My blue fairy godmother. I was beginning to wonder | if you really existed. I exist all right. | I'm just retired. Eight years now. Imagine my surprise when they called me | out of retirement two months ago. - For me? | - Yeah. - Why all this sudden interest in me? | - That's what I'm supposed to find out. Well, it's no mystery | why the Israelis wouldn't want me. No, the mystery is why the Russians | should think you're such a fat prize. The Russians? | What Russians? Well, at least two in this country. One is your friend, | Colonel lona Potipov. - Potipov? | - Sorry, you know him as George Kraft. He's been operating in the U.S. | As a Russian spy since '35. George Kraft's not a spy. - I mean, George told me about his wife. | - His wife? In Indianapolis who died four years ago? | No such person. He's got a wife, all right, | still living in Proscurov. He just hasn't seen her for 25 years. I don't imagine he's mentioned the three | children or nine grandchildren. - Kraft, he was... | - Potipov. Whatever. He was living | in the building for three years. I mean, he didn't | introduce himself to me. I went downstairs. | I introduced myself to him. From what I can tell, you weren't part | of his original agenda. Just sort of an unexpected perk. Everything was nice and quiet | until he sent an anonymous letter... to your protege, Dr. Jones, | telling him where you were. Then the excrement | really hit the air-conditioning. It was Kraft. If it makes you feel any better, | he really is a painter. I don't think much of his work, | but what do I know about art? Maybe it's okay. Maybe that's | the one thing you can't fake. Maybe you're the exception | to that too. What was Kraft's plan for me? Well, when he tipped off Jones... he knew you'd become news again. He figured he could get you out of the | country easier and stay by your side. And you could be kidnapped | with fewer international complications. I see. I see. Well... you said there was two Russian spies. Who's the other? | Jones? Nah, Jones is | the one true friend you got. Seems he's the only one | with your best interest at heart. Who's the other one? No, not Resi. No, goddamn you! | Not Resi! Relax, Howard, | I'm only the messenger. You're a goddamn liar. I'm sure she had you thinking about your | new life and how nice it would be... but it wouldn't have gone that way. When you got to the airport in Mexico | City, there'd be a second plane... and off you'd go on a one-way trip | to Moscow, all expenses paid. What could the Russians | possibly want... with such a burned-out piece | of World War II surplus? They can exhibit you | as a prime example... of the fascist war criminals | that this country shelters. They also hope you'll confess | to all sorts of collusion... between the Nazis and Americans | before and after the war. I think that's our echo. You've been typing | for almost 15 hours straight. Me, I've barely written | five pages in as many days. When do you eat? I don't know. I hear your trial starts | in a couple of days. Where's your lawyer? He's trying to find the one person | who'll corroborate my defense. So far I'm told he | doesn't exist. Listen, Campbell, | can I give you some advice? Certainly. Spend some time | in the exercise yard... or have them bring in | a radio or television. You've got to learn to relax. It is important to learn | how to relax. That's how I got here! Hey, Eichmann, can I ask you | a personal question? Certainly. Do you believe you're guilty | of murdering six million Jews? Absolutely not. Oh, you were simply a soldier, | were you? Taking orders from higher-ups, | is that right, Eichmann... like any good soldier? - Campbell? | - Yes. - About those six million... | - Yes? I don't need credit for all of them. I'm sure I could spare you a few. - Where were you? | - We were worried about you, old boy. - You are cold. | - I just stepped outside for some air. - That was a bit of a risk, wasn't it? | - Yeah, it was a bit of a risk... but you know what Jones says: | "I'll sacrifice anything for the truth. " This is torture having to stay | in this cramped room... for the fear of our lives. How can people treat us like this? Oh, I don't know, Resi. You know, in spite of everything... I still believe people | are really good at heart. You know? Tomorrow we will start our new lives, | and then you will be able to relax. Oh, yes, to relax. - You know, I was thinking... | - What? Tell me. I was thinking that maybe Mexico | isn't what we want. We can just go on from there. Maybe right at the Mexico City airport, | we could just get right on another jet. Onto... I don't know. | We could go to the Caribbean. - We could go to Moscow maybe. | - Moscow? That's a novel idea. - You don't like it? | - I would have to think about it. I want you | to think about it, too, okay? - Yeah, if you want. | - Yeah. You know, | the more I think about it... the better it sounds. What can you possibly | find interesting about Moscow? Well, I don't know. | I'd like to visit an old friend. You never told me | you had a friend in Moscow. Gee, George, I guess it just | never came up in a conversation. What's his name? Colonel lona Potipov. - Don't know him. | - Don't know him, huh? It doesn't matter. He's just a spy | trying to get me to Mexico City... so I can be kidnapped | and flown to Russia to stand trial. - That is not... | - Don't even think about it. God, Howard, this is ridiculous. Cowboys and Indians. Yeah, all right, George. Howard, this is not who I am. | This is the way things are. Nobody should know that | better than you. - Yeah. Yeah. | - Sweetheart. That dream about Mexico... | it was really true. Tomorrow we were all | going to escape. It was our mission | to get to Moscow... but then I was not going | to go through with it... because I love you. I told you I was not gonna go through | with it, did I not? Yes, you did. | She told me. And he agreed with me. He came up | with the dream of Mexico... where we would all get out | of this trap together. - How did you find out? | - American agents. They'll be raiding our | happy little home any minute now. That's unfortunate. Then we must leave right now, liebling, | while we still can. It's too late, darling. | We're already surrounded. - Then we will fight them. | - Resi, you don't understand. I said, we are surrounded. Does that matter? Yes, of course that matters. We... You mean, | why don't I die for love... like a hero | in a Howard W. Campbell play? Yeah. Ja, that is exactly | what I mean. Let us die together... | here and now. You have a full life ahead of you. I have a full life behind me. All in those few sweet hours | with you. Sounds like a line | I might have written as a young man. It is a line you wrote | as a young man. A foolish young man. I adore that man. I'm sorry, I can't congratulate you | on your taste in men. You no longer... you no longer believe | that love is the only thing to live for? Well, no. Then tell me what to live for. Tell me anything. | It does not have to be love. Anything at all! | I will live for that chair... or that picture on the wall | or that crack over there! Just tell me. | Tell me what you live for... and I will live for that too! Resi, what I live for is... I'm an old man. I will show you what to live for. I will show you a woman | who dies for love. No, Resi. | No, no, my God. Don't move a muscle. The morning after the raid | on Jones's basement... I was released... thanks, I suppose, | to my blue fairy godmother. I was deposited | onto the streets of New York... restored to the mainstream of life. I took several steps | down the sidewalk... when something happened. It was not guilt that froze me. I had taught myself | never to feel guilt. It wasn't the fear of death. I had taught myself | to think of death as a friend. It was not the thought | of being unloved that froze me. I had taught myself | to do without love. What froze me was the fact | that I had absolutely no reason... to move in any direction. Are you all right? Yes. Been standing there a long time. Waiting for somebody? You lost? Better move on then, | don't you think? Yeah. "Nazi Pig" "Keep Out" "Let's Finish The Job!" Who is it? - It's Howard Campbell. | - What do you want? Could I come in? You're going to have to tell me | what this is about. I want to go to Israel | to stand trial. What? I want to be tried | for my crimes against humanity. What do you want from me? I want to surrender | to an Auschwitzer. Then find one who thinks | of Auschwitz all the time. And don't speak Yiddish! | We are in America now! If you can't remember, | I will remember for both of us. - You still want revenge, is that it? | - Yes. Then go on with your plan | because it proves nothing. Mr. Campbell, | I think I can help you. Thank you. Yes. "Translation: 'Corpse carriers | to the guardhouse. "' "Tomorrow" "My Trial" "Begins" "Dear Howard... The discipline of a lifetime now | collapses like the walls ofJericho. What is the tune | that Joshua's trumpet plays? Is that the music of my conscience? | I doubt it. I've done you no wrong. I think the music must be an old | soldier's itch for a little treason. And treason this letter is. I hereby violate | my direct and explicit orders... and identify myself as the man | you knew as Frank Wirtanen. " I affirm and will affirm | under oath... that I recruited you | as an American agent... and that you, | at great personal sacrifice... became one of the most effective | agents of the Second World War. If there must be a trial | of Howard W. Campbell, Jr... let it be one hell of a contest... and may justice be served. Yours truly, Frank. May justice be served. I like the sound of that. They say that a hanging man | hears glorious music. I wonder what it sounds like. |
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