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, café latte.
Waiter, café 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!
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.
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
Wagner. You make music sick.
Hate. Hate.
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
Look out I
Josefl
Come backl
Josef!
Josef, listen to me.
Eight,
seven,
six,
five,
four,
three,
one.
You're wide awake now.
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 15 years ago.
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.
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.