Doctor Breuer.
I must see you on a
matter of life or death.
Meet me at nine tomorrow
morning at the Cafe Rousse.
A matter of
life or death! H mpf!
Doctor Breuer?
Lou Salome.
How do you do?
May I?
Would you like
a coffee?
Yes, caf latte.
Waiter, caf
latte, please.
My friend is preparing to kill himself.
This man's death would
have momentous consequences
for me, for you,
for all of the world.
Who is
this friend?
The philosopher
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Nietzsche? Should I know of him?
Not yet, but in time we
shall all know of him.
How do we confirm
a truth that has arrived
through disbelief and skepticism
and not through some childlike
wishing something were so.
It is hard to be in God's
hands. It's not truth.
It is a child's wish for the
everlasting blow to the nipple.
We have
evolutionary theory.
Evolutionary theory scientifically
demonstrates God's redundancy.
So Darwin himself
had not the courage
to follow
his evidence
to its true
conclusion. So...
where are we?
Surely you must all realize
we have created God...
and all
of us together
have killed him.
God...
is dead.
My friend is sick.
What is the nature
of his illness?
Headaches.
Tormenting headaches.
My dear lady, I will see your friend.
I'm a physician.
I know you can cure
his physical condition.
That is not
why I am here.
Nietzsche suffers
from the deepest despair.
That is what
I ask you to heal.
I cannot
cure despair.
Ah, but you
can, doctor.
I have a spy.
My brother,
a medical student,
attended the class in which
you described a new technique.
The talking cure.
Now I can arrange to steer
Nietzsche to your office
but he must believe you're
treating only his headaches.
Tell me, is yours
a Russian accent?
It is.
Well, perhaps the people in
Russia believe in sorcerers
but sorry, Fraulein,
I am Austrian.
I have no magic
to offer you.
May I walk you back to your hotel?
I would enjoy
that but...
my wife will be watching from
the window. I have a duty.
A duty?
It is my duty to be free of duty.
Doctor, save Nietzsche.
I am sorry.
I had hoped
it was hepatitis.
How long...
do I have?
It is best you put
your affairs in order.
Please, doctor.
How long?
Please. Tell us.
Three to
six months.
Are you alright, doctor?
Make sure the Pfeiffers
are never billed again.
Of course.
Oancel all their
outstanding debts to me.
Of course.
A Fraulein Salome
has suddenly arrived.
A very grand
young woman.
Show her in.
But Frau Reinhardt has
been waiting for hours.
Frau Becker!
Fraulein Salome!
Doctor Breuer.
I see you like to do
things for yourself.
Doesn't that deprive men
the pleasure of serving you?
We both know that
some of the services
men provide are not
necessarily good for women.
The habits
of a lifetime
are not easily
extinguished, my dear.
Your future husband will
need extensive retraining.
No husband
for me. Ever.
I would not do that to a man.
If then or ever you
use this new technique,
do not attempt to use this
mesmerism method with N ietzsche.
Our patient would refuse
to engage in any process
he perceives as surrendering
his power to another.
And are you responsible
for "our" patient's despair?
He believes
I am.
Where has
God gone?
I shall tell you.
God is dead.
We all have
killed him.
You, you,
you and I.
God will throw you in hell I
After the death
of Buddha,
his shadow was shown
for centuries in caves.
A gruesome,
gruesome shadow.
God will punish you I You are Satan I
Given the way of people
In the caves,
thank you,
for thousands of years, in which
God's shadow will still be shown.
Vanquish the shadow
within yourself!
Friedrich.
Friedrich. Meet Lou Salome.
A brilliant poet
from Russia.
Fascinating lecture
to fall on so few ears.
Why are people so
afraid of you, professor?
Oh, truth is
a fearsome thing.
Why do you say
God is dead?
And not that
he never existed?
What you think?
That God has ceased to be a
reckoning force in people's lives.
An interesting
interpretation.
But if God
is dead,
then everything
is permitted.
No morals,
no rules.
Without God, who will
organize our society?
What is the solution to
your godless proposition?
From what stars have we
dropped down to each other here?
Auf Wiedersehen.
I was immediately
attracted to him.
Seduced by
his intellect.
We could say so much to each
other with half sentences.
Mere gestures.
He became obsessed,
proposing marriage
after our first meeting.
I was attracted
to him.
But not romantically.
I wanted to learn.
Not to submit.
Stop it!
My refusal turned his love into hatred.
He wrote me these
crazed insulting letters.
Then he wrote about
killing himself.
So if I understand
you correctly,
you want me
to persuade N ietzsche
that his life
is worth living.
But I must accomplish this
without him knowing it.
You are the
only doctor qualified
for this
psychological treatment.
Frau Reinhardt is still
waiting. And still suffering.
One more thing.
You must read
his books.
I shall do everything I
can to help your friend.
Good night,
Dr. Breuer.
Good night.
Straight home,
Fishman.
Siegmund? Siegmund?
Where are you
racing to?
The most charming woman in
Vienna invited me for dinner.
Her more charming
husband is
on his way home this very
minute. J ump in, Siggy.
I diagnosed a liver
cancer today.
I never get used
to my patients dying.
Well, get used to it, young Dr. Freud.
The children are eating.
Say hello to them.
Daddy!
My little chickens.
See what I
mean, Siggy?
He hardly
talks to me.
Oh, by the way I've
taken on a new patient.
I haven't met him yet.
Suicidal tendencies.
As always, it starts with a woman.
But Josef, love sickness
is not a medical condition.
The story gets
even better.
Because the woman
feels guilty,
she wants me to sneak in a cure
for his psychological distress.
While at the same time, I
address his physical ailments.
Surely, you're not
going to attempt this.
I have
already agreed.
Why?
I don't even
know myself.
Perhaps I need
a challenge like this.
You cannot say
no to this woman.
She could persuade
a horse to lay eggs.
Our plan is working.
Dr. Oberbach has persuaded
Nietzsche to consult you.
Neither I
nor Nietzsche
shall ever forget
your kindness.
The professor
is here.
Send him in.
Good day,
Herr Professor.
Please. Please,
have a seat.
Tell me about
your illness.
Would it be
more efficient
to review my
previous consultations?
I'm sure they're excellent
physicians, thank you.
But I make
my own diagnosis
before reviewing
those of my colleagues.
J ust as I prefer to see a
play before reading the reviews.
Tell me, professor,
to what extent...
has melancholia accompanied
these migraine attacks?
I have my black periods
but who does not?
Speak not of me
tell me of
my illness.
What it
might be?
A life dominated
by black periods
is a breeding
ground for despair.
Despair?
No.
Perhaps once but not now. No.
I'm just pregnant.
Here.
My headaches are
the labor pains for
my new book.
What book?
Zarathustral
A young prophet,
bursting with wisdom
and courage and truthfulness decides to
enlighten the people.
I teach you
the U bermensch.
Man is something
that must be overcome.
What have you done
to overcome man?
What is the ape to man?
A laughingstock, but I feel no shame.
J ust that, man shall
be to the U bermensch!
People refused to
understand those words.
The prophet, realizing
he has come too soon
returns to
his solitude.
So... like...
Zarathustra,
I come
too soon.
I must ask you
a personal question.
Physical wellbeing
is not separable
from social and
psychological wellbeing.
Is there someone
with whom you have...
You referring
to sex... Doctor?
Well...
I have found that a
flash of bestial pleasure
is followed by hours
of self-loathing, so,
such herd pleasures
are not for me.
But is there a woman in your life?
Every time I have
attempted to build
a footbridge to others,
I have been betrayed.
First, there was the
composer, Richard Wagner,
I have suffered
because of him,
and later,
my best friend...
with that... woman.
Tell me more
about that... woman.
And why?
It's connected
to your illness.
Trust me
on this.
I cannot afford
to... trust... again.
Then I believe,
Herr Professor,
that we can proceed
no further.
Have a safe
journey home, Herr Professor.
Stupid animal!
Hey, out!
Leave the horse alone!
Leave it! Leave it, I tell you!
Are you alright?
Oan we meet... again?
Friday afternoon,
same time?
Good night.
Breathe deeply, Bertha.
Did you have any dreams last night?
Yes. I dreamt you
were making love to me.
Really?
Yes.
I'm just going to
examine you, don't worry.
It's perfectly normal.
What are you
doing? No!
I want you!
You are mine!
No, Josef!
No, Josef!
How could you?!
Mathilde!
What are
you doing?!
That is horrible!
Horrible!!
Dr. Breuer! You are now a free man.
Go back, you syphilitic
whore! He's mine!
No!
He's mine!
M ine!
He is mine!
He's mine!
No!
He's mine!
"There was a time in our lives
"when we were
so close
"that nothing seemed to
obstruct our friendship.
"When only a footprint separated us.
"I asked you, ' Do you want to
cross the footbridge to me? '
But you did
not want to."
What do you make
of it, Siggy?
I'm not sure.
Let's reason it out. The first
man can no longer cross because
he feels he is submitting
his power to the other person.
Yes. Yes.
You're right.
He interprets any expression
of positive sentiment
as a bid
for power.
It makes it almost impossible
to get close to him I
It's all here.
May I see it?
And reveal
his identity?
And why not?
Perhaps if you lend
this book to Siggy
you won't hide in your
study all night reading it.
Mathilde, stop.
What am I to do
when I watch you
withdraw more and more
from me and the children?
First that woman!
Now this N ietzsche!
Friedrich N ietzsche?
To this day I regret listening to you.
The transfer of Bertha to another doctor
remains one of the
great shames of my life!
Excellent books.
Very few copies
of them sold.
Then your publisher is a fool
for not championing these
with his life's blood.
You're writing in short
and brief sentences.
It is my ambition to
say in ten sentences
what others
say in a whole book.
H m.
As to
your migraines,
I believe their fundamental
cause lies in stress.
Due to upsetting events
in your work, your family,
your personal
relationships.
I've given
up teaching.
I have no home
to look after,
no wife to
quarrel with,
no children
to discipline.
I have no obligations to anyone.
I have no stress.
Your extreme isolation
is stressing itself.
Great thinkers choose
their own company, no?
U ndisturbed by
the mob.
Oonsider Thoreau,
Spinoza, Buddha.
Professor.
Stress is
our enemy.
My task is to help you
reduce stress in your life.
I propose that you
enter my Lauzon clinic
for one month of
observation and treatment.
We have new medications for migraine.
I will visit
you daily.
I'm unable to pay...
for such services.
Money doesn't
matter to me.
It will be free.
And why are you doing this?
You came to
me for help.
I offer it.
I'm a doctor.
Far too simple.
H uman motivation
is far more complex.
What is
your motive?
Why are
you here?
Because of pressure from
my friends and my headaches.
I ask again. What is your motive
if you don't request
payment for such services.
One practices
one's profession.
A cobbler cobbles.
A baker bakes.
A doctor doctors.
Why do you write?
Why philosophize?
You want nothing
from your work.
I do not claim I philosophize for you.
Whereas you, doctor,
continue to pretend
that your motive
is to serve me.
Such claims have nothing
to do with human motivation.
Now what
are your motives?
My motives?
Yes!
My motives?!
Who can answer
such a question?
I believe you
are destined
to become
a great philosopher.
My mission is to aid you
in becoming who you are.
So you as my savior
can become even greater?
I did not
say that!
Do you know
my patients
are the leading scientists
and musicians in Vienna?
Yes, and at this moment
you use their eminence
to enhance your
authority with me!
I will never
exploit your name.
I will still be used by you!
Nonsense!
Your charity, your
techniques to help me?
To manage me!
All of these with you
stronger at my expense!
This is a perfect
example of why
you cannot dissect
your own psyche!
Your vision is
blurred, Professor!
You need help!
You are about to make a mistakel
Then go
already!
You crazed
deluded creature!
Shabbat Shalom.
Oome here!
The old Bishop,
N ietzsche,
he's dying
in my hotel!
Get me
some ice!
Dear God!
Bring me
some blankets!
Herr Professor.
Professor Nietzsche.
Friedrich I
Take the pain.
Take the pain in.
You will
feel better.
Help me.
That much chlorine
is a poison
in the sleeping juice
so you could have died.
Oh, living, dying,
who cares?
I shall be in your office
tomorrow with what I owe.
Before my train
leaves for Basel.
Basel?
Yes.
Not until this crisis is over.
I'm leaving tomorrow.
You know, part of me holds some...
strange hope that by
helping this bizarre creature
overcome his
own suffering,
I might
defeat my own.
Defeat your suffering?
You're the envy of
every doctor in Vienna.
One feels
things at 40
that one cannot possibly know at 25.
I must stop him
from leaving.
There must
be a way.
Perhaps if you'd fully
disclosed yourself to N ietzsche,
you might have
engaged him.
Once you
gain his trust,
he might open up like a steamed clam.
I think I know
a way, Siggy.
I think I know a way.
Your documents and
receipts, Herr Professor.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Professor Nietzsche.
May I have a word
before you leave?
I have a proposition
to make, Professor.
Perhaps never before made
by a doctor to his patient.
I propose a
professional exchange.
For one month, I will act
as physician to your body,
if you will act as physician to my mind.
What do
you mean?
That you doctor me and
I teach you philosophy?
No, no, no.
Not teach me.
Heal me.
Of what?
Despair.
I see
no despair.
Not on
the surface.
But underneath,
my mind is invaded
by alien thoughts.
I've lost sight
of why I live.
I'm terrified
of death, yet...
I often think
of ending my life.
I cannot help
you with this.
I've no training.
Who is trained?
Such healing is not a part
of the medical discipline.
What do I know of this?
You know more
than any man alive.
Aren't your books entire
treaties on despair?
I can't cure despair. I
only know how to tolerate it.
Then teach me
how to tolerate
a life
of despair.
You were right that
your mission is
to save humankind from
illusion and aimlessness.
To create a new code of behavior.
A new morality
free of superstition.
It's all there.
I n your books.
This is my offer.
You enter my clinic for 30 days.
I will observe and treat
your medical illness daily.
I n return, you become my physician,
and help me talk about
my life's concerns.
Look.
I'm indebted
to you...
more than
any man.
You saved
my life.
I'm just
a writer.
I'm not
a doctor.
You can pay your debt by saving my life.
The way I
saved yours.
So what?
I do this
for you to...
relieve my debt?
My motivation...
is entirely
self-serving.
I want to save my life,
but are you strong enough to do this?
I will persuade him
that he is the only one who can help me.
And then what?
Then I will
reverse the roles.
He will once again
be the patient
and I will be
the physician.
And what happens
when N ietzsche
turns to you
to cure his despair?
Siggy, I'm convinced there's
something healing in unburdening.
Look at
the Oatholics.
Their priests have been offering
confessions for centuries.
N ietzsche is
a solitary man.
Yet a few
nights ago
he opened up
to me.
A real plea
for help.
Help me.
What you saw were
his unconscious desires.
Those that if they were
liberated could scream
for help
in daylight.
The goal of
my talking cure
is to liberate those
buried desires,
to allow the patient to
ask for help... openly.
But is
"liberation" the right term?
Isn't it "integration"
that we are after?
I ntegration of the
unconscious with the conscious.
Yes!
Yes, Sigmund!
Very good.
Take a seat.
Remove your stethoscope.
And your coat.
As well.
I made a list
of your complaints.
One, you have a
general unhappiness.
Two, you're besieged
by alien thoughts.
Three, self-hatred.
Four, fear of aging.
Five, fear of death.
Six, urges
toward suicide.
Anything else?
I feel...
completely...
remote and distant
from my wife.
Trapped in a world
not of my own choosing.
And is that one more problem or two?
You make me
feel uncomfortable.
It is my task to make
you feel comfortless.
No, no, no. Your approach is all wrong.
M r. Breuer, we made an agreement.
"M r." Breuer?
Do you want us to proceed, M r. Breuer?
You've mentioned
your wife last.
Which tells me
it begins there.
What initiated
this change...
in your feelings
toward her?
Two years ago I took on
the case of a young woman.
This patient
- I gave her the pseudonym Anna O...
Suffers from what we doctors
call hysterical behavior.
Try to stay calm!
During our
daily meetings, she...
opened up to me. She had the
details of every disturbing event
of the last 24 hours.
She called these confessions
"chimney-sweeping."
I prefer to call it...
the talking cure.
U nfortunately,
the course of treatment was terminated
by its insane ending.
How?
I fell in love
with my patient.
She and her mother were
friendly with my wife.
Bertha.
What's wrong?
Stop it, Bertha!
What's wrong?
I'm pregnant!
I'm pregnant with
your husband's baby!
Bertha!
Here comes Dr.
Breuer's little baby I
Berthal Nol Stop it I
Stop it!
Bertha!
It was her delirium speaking,
of course, her illness.
But my wife forbade me to see her again.
What did
you do?
I'm sorry, my dear. I cannot
be your doctor anymore.
But I've done
nothing wrong.
Of course
you haven't.
I will refer you to a colleague of mine.
He will take good care of you.
Please don't
let me go.
I have no choice.
You will always be the
only man in my life. Always.
Can you imagine how terrible
it was to hear those words?
They were evidence of
the damage I had done.
I left her weakened.
Orippled.
You are responsible for all
of your thoughts and deeds.
But she, by virtue
of the so-called illness,
she is exonerated.
From everything.
Who has
damaged whom?
Who has
weakened whom?
Doesn't this cripple
Bertha, as you call her...
have greater power
over you?
An excellent beginning.
He even developed
a list of my problems.
Breuer is
a curious mix.
I ntelligent yet blind.
Sincere but devious.
Let him continue to think
that this is what we are doing.
He's possessed by a woman
who shreds him to pieces.
And he
licks her bloody fangs.
I love it, Josef.
What do you love?
Tchaikovsky!
Why?
Swan Lakel
Josef, look! We're running out of time!
Backwards!
Look at the time!
Faster, Josef!
Pedal faster!
Take me, Josef.
Take me!
Throw away
your shacklesl
Sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but death will
never hurt me!
I feared that after
yesterday's confessions,
you would
think less of me.
Do not worry about what
others think of you.
I suspect you find
sex disagreeable.
I do not object to sex.
What I hate is the man who begs for it.
He surrenders himself
to some crafty woman
who turns his lust
into her strings.
Lust is part
of life!
And nothing must interfere
with the development
of the hero which is inside you!
And if lust stands in the
way, lust must be overcome!
Be more practical.
All you give me are
quotes from your books!
First time I've attempted to put
my philosophy to practical use.
Choose between comfort
and the truth.
Are they
mutually exclusive?
If you want to choose
the pleasure of growth,
prepare yourself
for some pain.
Less pain, shrink. Go.
Be part of the herd.
Look at
this tree.
It requires
stormy weather
if it is to attain
its proud height.
Learn, creativity
and discovery.
But they
come in pain!
I wish for simple things.
To sleep without nightmares
To live
without tension.
Lie down.
Why?
It's the
best inducement
for recalling memories.
Lie down, please.
Close your eyes.
Let us
imagine
An icy
mountain peak.
And we see this little
man trudging to the top.
He's looking into the
horror of his existence.
He is encountering
times that are endured.
But he sees
too much.
This insignificance,
this mere little speck
that he is.
And now his fear
becomes so raw,
that he welcomes
lust into his mind.
And he starts looking
into this castle.
He begins to spend his time
recollecting these miracles.
How his little
crippled Bertha
moves her legs.
Her lips.
And her arms.
And her breasts.
And his mind
which was filled with
the noblest of ideas
becomes clogged
now with trash.
And that is how
he is today.
He's just rummaging
through the rubbish.
Of Bertha.
As if it contained the
answer to his prayers.
Well, what do you think of this man?
Josef, open
your eyes.
Open your eyes.
Talk to me,
Josef.
This is
my way.
Where is yours?
He asked you to lie
on the couch? Why?
He said it was the best
way for recalling memories.
I nteresting.
He is honoring
his contract,
but offers
no support.
My confessions have failed to produce
even the slightest admission
of his own obsession.
Is your frustration rooted
in your competition with him?
Not at all.
I'm a physician,
Siggy.
I do not meet with my
patient for my pleasure.
But Josef, I've read his books.
He has more penetrating
knowledge of mankind
than any other person. I
think, he may be, perhaps
the greatest psychologist
who has ever lived.
You can best help him
by letting him help you.
Josef?
Josef? It's
after midnight.
Are you coming
to bed?
Soon.
Dr. Breuerl Dr. Breuerl
Dr. Breuerl
Where is
my wife?
Your wife...
is in the housel
Mathilde!
Mathildel
You'll always be
the only man in my life.
Always.
You'll never
regret it, Josef. Never.
You will never regret it, Josef. Never.
I feel healthy.
I wish to waste none
of our precious time
on these physical
exams, hm?
U h, before
we begin,
the last time we met
you called me "Josef."
I like that. Should we use first names?
Friedrich or...?
Fritz.
Friedrich.
My best friend at school
was called Friedrich.
He used to call me the
lad of infinite promise.
What happened
to the lad?
He became
a successful doctor.
And respected.
And rich.
Then you have
fulfilled your goals.
You are satisfied?
I have fulfilled
my goals, yes.
Am I satisfied?
No.
How did you
choose your goals?
No, don't... don't think.
J ust chimney-sweep.
H m.
Goals are
part of my culture.
They're in the air. You breathe them in.
Like every
young Jewish boy,
I wanted to climb out
of the ghetto to succeed.
My father was the great
teacher of my life.
No, Papa.
No, Josef. I won't encourage bad habits.
But I never
chose goals.
They were
just there, like...
like an accident.
And yet not to take
possession of your goals
is just that, let your
life be an accident.
What is
wrong, Josef?
I've had a sudden and painful
understanding of the obvious.
Time is irreversible.
The sands of my life
are running out,
I'm in lockstep with all people
marching towards my death.
So you see clear
vision as a wound.
Knowing that as
my death approaches,
I'm impotent and
insignificant, yes.
That does not mean that
existence has no purpose.
On the contrary. As death creeps closer,
the value
of life increases.
You must learn
to say "Yes," Josef.
But say "yes" to every minute of life.
Be passionate. Be a
free thinking spirit.
Rise above
your limitations.
Be the U bermensch.
H m? Please.
Please, Fraulein. Will you take a seat?
The Russian
is here.
Let her wait.
Good afternoon, Frau
Pettik. Please take a seat.
Herr Schubert,
hello.
Take a seat. The doctor
will be with you shortly.
Please, understand.
I'm very sorry.
Please, the doctor
will see you.
Frau Pettik, the doctor can see you now.
What a pleasure.
I had forgotten.
Then look more carefully this time.
I'm distressed at having
so little time to offer you.
The price of success, Dr. Breuer.
You like to
live dangerously.
Tell me, why
didn't you write
so that I could arrange
a proper time for you?
I am concerned
about our patient.
Our patient?
Have you graduated
from medical school
since our
last meeting?
You must read these
letters N ietzsche sent me.
He writes
as if to punish me.
"You are a woman without
sensitivity or spirit,
incapable of love, a preditor
clothed as a house cat."
Why does he regard me as such a monster?
I deserve to know the
outcome of my efforts.
The outcome
of your experiment.
It's been lovely
to see you,
but I must return to my work.
Where is he?
I cannot tell you.
Or the state
of his condition.
You turn your back to me.
I cannot violate
my patient's... privacy.
Perhaps you are not capable
of being hypnotized.
Perhaps.
I didn't tell you she left some
of N ietzsche's letters with me.
H m. And?
He berates me for feeding
at the trough of lust,
and all the while, he
himself, just like me,
is rummaging through the
trash of his own mind.
You think he should answer
for his falsifications,
may I remind you
of your own.
Of the deceptive premise of
your arrangement with him.
Of the two patients
in this relationship,
I have become
the more urgent case.
General.
What are you
doing, soldier?
Trying to kill
myself, sir.
Oarry on, soldier.
Yes, sir.
General, help me please!
The interesting thing
is that in my dream
the general
was you.
And why me?
A symbol of your
unwillingness to join me
in a down-to-earth
manner perhaps?
Be open
with me.
I presume that,
like all men,
you've suffered
from love-sickness.
Have you ever tasted
the pain of love?
Yes.
And?
I must know.
Let me remind you
of Goethe's words.
"Be a man.
Do not follow me,
but yourself. "
Teaching philosophy and
using it in the real world
are very
different undertakings.
You wish for something
to soothe you now.
Then go, suckle on the
teat of superstition.
Whatever you do,
don't go to reason.
U nfortunately, the
theatrical director of my mind,
the one who stages all
these scenes with Bertha
is unaffected
by reason.
Of course not. For
what reason will a man
could love
such a cripple?
Oh, stop it I
Bertha is intelligent,
beautiful, loving!
Loving?
How?
She tried to seduce you into adultery.
She almost
destroyed you.
You are too
hard on her.
Well, next time
you go to her,
don't forget
to bring your whip.
Yes. I think to love such
a woman is to hate life.
Bertha is
a fine woman.
May I remind you
she became ill
because of her
father's death?
And may I remind
you all fathers die?
I think the time
for excuses is over.
You will always
be the only man in my life.
Friedrich, I need your help.
Attack my obsession.
It's ruining mel
Do you want war?
Yes!
You will follow my
directives without question.
Absolutely.
Sit.
Please.
Olose your eyes.
I magine... your life...
with Bertha.
But I don't
want to!
Please, Josef.
Relax.
Now, you're
starting your day.
You're having your
breakfast, with Anna O.
I want you to compose
a list of 10 insults
and I want you to hurl them at her.
To her face?!
Yes.
What?
Like "ugly?"
Precisely.
Ugly, yes.
Ugly.
Scream it out!
Ugly!
Stupid!
Oow!
Whore!
Sow!
Oross-eyed! Monster! Oripple!
That's nine.
One more.
Idiot!!
Good. How is
she responding?
I love you.
Banish the tranquil idea
you've composed.
See Bertha as she would
be now each morning.
Spasms. Her arms
and legs in spasms.
Cross-eyed. M utant. Hallucinating.
Suffering I
See her as the infant
she longs to revert to.
See her as an adult,
sitting on the toilet
as she does
each day.
Ooh. H i, Josef.
If you are alone and you
begin to think of her,
tell her "Go away, I hate
you!" as loud as you can.
You pinch yourself as
hard as you can! Say it!
Go away!
Pinch yourselfl
Pinch yourselfl
Pinch yourself as hard as you can!
Go away!
I hate you!
Listen. If you're
ever alone
and you begin to think
about her, shout
"Go away, I hate you" as loud
as you can. Say it. I hate you.
I hate you!!
I hate you!
I hate you!!
I hate you!
I hate you!!
Louderl Say it. I hate you.
Say it! Josef, if you are ever
alone, you begin to think of her,
you shout "Go away, I hate
you" as loud as you can. Say it.
As loud as you can.
Say it. I hate you.
Go... away!!
I hate you!!
I love you.
Go away I I hate you I
What are we waiting for, Fishman?
Yeah, hol
H m.
Your heart
is strong.
But mine is close to bursting.
After yesterday, I feel like
a bear being trained to dance.
It's true. I've lowered you. And myself.
And a teacher should be a raiser of men.
We are
missing something.
Yes, we've neglected to
understand the meaning
behind your obsession.
How can we discover
the meaning of something
that I myself
have concealed?
By talking
about it.
What would your life be
if there was no Bertha?
Life without Bertha...
would be
a colorless one.
Everything would
be decided.
This medical bag,
these black clothes.
I'm a scientist. Yet
science has no color.
I need passion!
I need magic!
That's what
Bertha represents.
Life without passion,
without mystery?
Who can live
such a life?
But he is
expecting me.
You're lured to mystery.
You're lured to danger.
But I hate danger.
I live my
life safely.
Living safely
is what's dangerous.
Living safely
is dangerous?
N ietzsche, there is no
Professor N ietzsche here.
Oheck again.
There is no Professor N ietzsche here.
Perhaps Bertha represents
my desire to escape
my deadly safe life,
the trap of time.
Time is our
burden, Josef.
The greatest challenge
is to live in spite of it.
I hate women
with lips.
Why do you
show me this?
Because she has a combination of lips,
eyes and breasts...
that give her almost
superhuman powers.
Powers to
do what?
When I'm
with her,
I feel that I'm in the
center of an orderly,
tranquil universe.
An intensely
beautiful place
where there are no questions
about life or purpose.
Like walking
on clouds.
Where do your
thoughts go now?
Her eyes...
they glisten.
She doesn't speak,
yet she talks
to me.
And what does
she say?
She says...
"Josef,
you are adorable."
And in that moment, I am.
When she told me
one day that she
dreamed of us making
love, I was ecstatic.
What a victory.
To enter a place where
no man has ever been.
Have you ever known
a Bertha, Frederich?
Friedrich.
I once knew a woman who
could not be denied. Yes.
Tell me more
about this woman.
What was
her name?
Do you still
love her?
We are more
in love with desire,
than the desired.
Siggy.
These sessions
with N ietzsche
have become the center of my day.
Why?
The relief
of disclosure.
Perhaps in 50 years
this talking cure
might develop into
a precise science.
I thought I could help him.
No longer.
He has everything
to offer me.
I'm wondering if part
of this talking cure
involves learning with the
patient transfers to his doctor.
Shh.
What would it be to
live as Nietzsche lives?
No house.
No obligations.
No wife.
No responsibilities.
"Goodbye, my dear Lou.
"I won't see
you again.
"You've caused damage.
You've done harm.
And not only to me, but to
all people who loved me."
"And this
sword hangs over you.
But I hope you will make good to Henry,
what you couldn't
make good to me.
Yesl
You make music sick.
You are sick!
You are sick!
Wagner.
The first requiems.
You make music sickl
You tyrant I
You tyrant I
You antisemitel
I hate you I
I hate you I
Wagner. You make music sick.
Hate.
Hate.
Hate.
Fritz.
Fritz.
Hate.
Fritz!
Hate!
Look at me!
Talk to my animals.
Fritz!
Hate.
I visit my
parents' grave once a month.
Would you like to come with me today?
It's less than one
hour's ride from the city.
Why didn't you tell me your
mother's name was Bertha?
She died when I was three.
I have very few
memories of her.
No conscious memories.
Are you suggesting
I love Bertha
because she and my mother
shared the same name?
My mother is hardly real to me.
Bertha Pappenheim is the
most real thing in my life.
I think your obsession with Bertha
has never been
about Bertha.
A year after my father
died, I had a dream.
This grave opens,
and my father
rises up,
and he runs
to this church.
It's where
he preached.
And he grabbed
this small child,
and he climbed back...
into the grave.
I always believed
that this dream
predicted my
brother's death, but
I suspect it
was my own...
it was my
own fear.
I was
that boy.
I n my
father's arms.
And fear is expressed in
your dream where you...
plunge towards
the closed coffin.
Who is inside
the coffin?
I don't remember.
Who is the one who
stops you from falling
to your death?
Your crippled Bertha?
Or perhaps
your mother?
The real Bertha.
Who, Josef?
Who is inside
the coffin?
I can still
see her face.
She's smiling
at me.
H m.
Your mother?
How could she
leave me?
I never really
let her go.
Perhaps adult figures enter a
child's mind and refuse to leave.
But you must be as
frightened as I am of death...
and godlessness.
We must die. But at the right time.
Death only loses its terror when one has
consummated one's life.
Have you consummated your life?
I have achieved
a great deal.
But have you
lived your life?
Or have you been lived by it?
You stand outside
your life, grieving,
for some life
that you...
you never lived.
I cannot change
my lifel
I have my family,
my patients!
Students.
It's too late.
I cannot tell you how
to live differently.
If I did, you'd still be
living by some other's design,
but perhaps I could
give you a gift, Josef.
Maybe I could give
you a thought.
What if some demon
were to say to you
that this life,
as you now live it,
have lived it
in the past,
you would have to live
once more but...
innumerable times more.
There will be nothing new in it.
Every pain, every joy, every
unutterably small or great thing
in your life would
just return to you.
The same succession, the same
sequence, again and again,
like an hourglass
of time.
I magine infinity.
Oonsider the possibility that
every action you choose, Josef,
you choose
for all time.
Then all... unlived life
would remain...
inside you.
U nlived.
Throughout eternity.
You like
this idea?
Do you hate it? Which?
I hate it!
Why?
The only thing
I love about my life
is the thought
that I have fulfilled my
duties to my wife and children.
Duty?
Your duty
is a sham.
It's the curtain
you hide behind.
To truly build
your children,
you build
yourself. First.
And as for your wife, let her break
out from this prison you share.
And be
broken by it.
H m?
Are you sure about this?
To continue with the sense
that I have not lived.
That I have not
tasted freedom.
The idea fills
me with horror.
Help me, Siggy.
Fly! Fly!
Fly! You're free! You're free!
And you too
are free.
Free them?
This is madness.
Suddenly I find
that I am old.
I am facing death without
having lived my life!
Since when is there
your life and my life?
We made a covenant
to share our lives.
Leave if you want!
But not until I tell you about
the cruel joke of freedom.
I wish I had
your freedom.
Freedom of a man to obtain an education.
To choose
a profession.
I wish I had the vocabulary, the logic
to express just how foolish you sound!
Mathilde, if I am able to find my life
we will both
be better off.
Perhaps I will come back to this life.
But it must be
my choice!
Have you forgotten about the
choice you made in marrying me?
What choices does a deserted wife have?
You are young,
rich, attractive!
You will be as free as I am!
We have
three children!
Mathilde, I should have
been I before I became we!
Words! Words! You cannot live in words!
I choose
my life, too.
And I choose
to tell you
you cannot return
to this house
because it will no longer be your home!
Once you leave, I will
no longer be your wife!
Mama!
Say goodbye to your father, children.
Forever.
Please, Papa,
don't leave.
Get out there. Leave,
if that's what you want.
Robert, I'm still
your father.
No, you're not
my father anymore.
Robert.
Goodbye, my
little chickens.
I only have
one life!
Nietzsche is right.
My freedom has been here
all along for the taking.
Now is my last chance.
This is my one
and only life.
I'm looking for
Bertha Pappenheim.
She's in the garden
with the doctor.
Should I inform her
you are here?
No, thank you,
I shall wait.
Please, wait for
her upstairs.
Thank you.
I love you.
You will always be the
only man in my life.
Josef!
How are you?
Papa, don't leave.
Having doubts, Josef?
How could I have given up everything?
You'd given up everything
long before you met me.
Yes, but now
I have nothing!
And nothing
is everything.
I n order to grow strong, you must first
sink your roots deep
into nothingness.
But learn to face your
Ioneliest Ioneliness.
My wife.
My children.
How could I
have left them?
You must be ready to burn
yourself in your own flame.
How could you
become new,
if you would not
first become ashes?
Waiter.
Josef?
Dr. Breuer?
Josef!
Where are
you going?!
What a ridiculous man.
Josef, come backl
Josefl
Josefl
Look out I
Josefl
Josefl
Come backl
Josef!
Josef!
Josef, listen
to me.
Eight,
seven,
six,
five,
four,
three,
one.
You're wide
awake now.
Where am I?
Where am I?
Everything's alright,
Josef.
Siggy...
what's happening
to me?
You are in
your house.
It'll all come
back to you.
I did exactly
as you instructed.
I hypnotized you using
your watch as a pendulum.
Here it is, Josef,
on your desk.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes, I remember.
How long
was I under?
Nearly an hour.
You wept,
you looked frightened.
I asked you if you wanted to stop.
Now I know what it would be like...
to live differently.
Max and Rachel have arrived for dinner.
Mathilde.
You complain you don't see enough of me.
Yet, when
I'm here,
you want
to desert me?
I've been
away, my dear.
But now
I am back.
I'm glad
you're here.
Dr. Freud, my husband needs a doctor.
To your health,
my boy.
And to you, Max.
And to you, Josef.
Oheers.
Oh!
M mm.
My boy, my boy.
Excuse me.
Have I made
you cry?
It's a good cry.
It's sad too.
When I think
how long it's been-
Marry me, Mathilde.
Please.
I think we did this
And I choose
to do it again.
Today.
And every day for the rest of our lives.
So, tell me,
how did you cast her out?
Well, I was terrified
by aging and death.
I fought back
but blindly.
I n desperation,
I attacked my wife
and sought rescue
in the arms of one
who had no rescue to givel
I n a certain sense,
I've betrayed you.
I have been so dishonest with you.
Oompletely.
I was myself involved with a woman.
A few months ago.
Her name
was Lou.
Not so unlike
your Bertha.
Beautiful girl.
I fell in love.
She just appeared
to be my twin brain.
My soul's mate.
And she led me
on to believe
that I was the man to whom
she was destined and...
I believed her.
And when I offered
myself to her,
she spurned me...
in favor of
my best friend...
in the world.
I must tell you that there is not...
not one day
that goes by...
not even an hour,
where I do not think of that woman.
She is your Bertha.
But you see? You've been
doing double work here.
Yours and mine.
I'm like the most
cowardly of women.
And I crouch behind
your back here,
letting you face all
the dangers all alone.
You have courage.
Friedrich, there is
something I must tell you.
Dr. Breuer?
How do you do?
You must read these letters
N ietzsche has sent me.
These are
my private letters.
You did see
her then?
Yes, but I
refused her.
So all of this was just a pretense.
I made a promise
to help you.
I never betrayed
that promise.
What did she do? She
took you by the arm?
Told you she had to
spend more time with you?
I shared one, one holy moment with her,
it's the only holy
moment I've ever known.
No one fell in love with me, ever. Ever.
Friedrich, it may have
been a holy moment for you,
but not for her.
What are
you saying?
She never mentioned
the water?
No.
I feel such
a loss.
H m.
I don't know.
I think I've
lost Lou.
And you.
Everything, I lose.
I could have
From your mind.
And you
have a family.
You have your family
and I have my pretenses.
My secret little ways of
tolerating my aloneness.
But I glorify it,
don't I?
And I just don't
want to die alone.
I don't want my body
just to be discovered.
By its stench.
Lou softened that fear
for me for a while.
But you're right.
It's just
an illusion.
Friedrich.
It's such
an illusion.
Friedrich. She does care about you.
She went to extremes to help you.
If your tears
had a voice,
what would they say?
I feel so ashamed.
Tell me.
My tears would say we're free.
You never
let us out,
until Dr. Breuer
opened the gate.
And what about the
sadness behind those tears?
It's not sadness.
It's such a relief.
It's such
a relief!
It's the first time I'm
revealing my loneliness.
It's melting.
It's melting away.
It's a paradox. Isolation
exists only in isolation.
Once shared,
it evaporates.
My dear friend.
We are friends.
I like saying that.
No one ever said
this to me.
I like it.
I like it.
We are friends.
Friedrich.
It's good.
Stay with us tonight.
Have supper with me and my family.
No, it would mean to abandon my mission.
It's time we went our ways.
"We'll have friends, and have
become strangers to each other.
"This is as
it ought to be.
"We do not want either to
conceal or obscure the fact
"as if we had to be ashamed of it.
We are two ships, each of which
has its goal and its course."
And finally, Dr. Breuer,
"We have to become
strangers to one another
because it's the law to
which we are subject."
Have a safe journey.
My dear friend.