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HOW ABOUT ADOLF?
"What's in a name?"
said Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe.
That didn't stop anyone naming several streets after him.
In Germany alone, there are 2,114 "Goethe" Streets.
That's not including squares.
It's the same in Bonn, the birthplace of Beethoven.
Ludwig van, his first name.
Here is Adenauerallee,
named after our first chancellor, Konrad Adenauer.
Then there's Joachimstrasse,
named after the violin virtuoso, Josef Joachim.
Turn right into Kaiserstrasse,
named for German Emperors like Wilhelm or Friedrich.
Maybe even Roland or Franz.
Turn into Schumannstrasse, named after Robert, not Clara.
Despite her success, Clara only has a small lane
in a suburb on the other side of the Rhine.
Into Robert-Schumannstrasse
then finally turn right into Goethestrasse.
Here, hidden behind the hedges,
is a door,
which has seen many people of different names
come and go.
Coming!
- Yes? - Two tonno, one calzone.
12.50 euros? For a tonno pizza?
- What's on it? Truffles? - Tuna.
Yes, I know that.
The Italian "Il tonno"
comes from the Latin "thunnus."
I am also aware tuna stocks are declining.
But 12.50 euros for a tonno pizza? That's 25 Deutschmarks!
Um...
People are living in poverty, there's a refugee crisis
and you're asking 80 Deutschmarks for three pizzas?
Do they at least come with a bottle of wine?
- You didn't order one. - I mean for free.
It should be, with an 80 Deutschmarks order.
You ordered pizza?
- No. Why? - Why are you so upset?
- You didn't order pizza? - Of course not.
It's not about pizza. It's the principle.
Goodbye.
15-B is next door.
That's me, Elisabeth Berger-Böttcher.
Yes, I'm voluntarily double-barrelled.
I teach German at Cardinal Fringe Secondary School in Bonn-Beul.
...Bacchus' gifts, Balsam...
I run the Poetry Club
and developed a programme to help poorer children go on school trips.
Who knows who Bacchus is?
I supported integrated schools before the word existed.
Every day, with pedagogical instinct,
I support our next generation
in becoming independent, confident and sociable characters.
Justin, Jaden! Stop! Detention for both of you!
Where's the bloody key?
Did you check your jacket?
- Did you hide it in there? - Why would I do that?
Why would it be in my jacket?
That's my husband. Stephan Berger. We've known each other since school.
He is Professor of Modern German Literature at the University of Bonn.
He wears corduroy suits and a beard, with conviction.
It is no more complicated
than recognising the rhyme scheme of a sonnet.
Right, Mr. Bode?
Please, ladies and gentlemen.
In professional circles, he caused a stir with a paper on Boll's thesis
on the literary context of the German post-war period.
Will it be an exam topic?
We'll see. Right, Mr. Bode?
He gives an annual seminar at the Moscow State University
on the work of Thomas Mann.
It is no more complicated than recognising the rhyme scheme.
Right, Mr. Cherkasov?
Please, ladies and gentlemen.
As an internationally renowned speaker,
he has travelled globally for the Goethe Institute.
Will it be an exam topic? We'll see. Right, Mr. Cherkasov?
I admire Stephan's brilliance.
His ability to ask the right questions always looking for new answers.
Where is it? Bloody hell!
And his irrepressible fighting spirit.
I give up.
- Aren't you gonna get it? - I'll check the chicken.
It's for...
...you.
- Your mother! - Answer it!
- Dorothea, how lovely. - What's going on?
The Rosenthals are doing a sundowner.
That's my mother, Dorothea.
After my father's death, we worried she would be lonely.
But since moving to the mountains, she has blossomed.
She is busier, more social and more relaxed,
than we had ever dreamed.
Someone called me. If it wasn't...
Yes. Sabeth...
She's cooking something Indian.
The downside to her newfound relaxation
ls that she has a lot to say and wants to talk every day.
- Sabeth! Your... - Yes?
Your mother.
Thanks. Mum?
- You've been to India, right? - Yes, but not to cook.
I have ginger. But its...
Something's missing... A bit of a kick.
In Indian food? Kick?
Have you tried it with curry?
Curry in curry? That's brilliant.
Now some good news.
We only need another 258 signatures,
and then we can apply for the referendum.
Mum, are you taking drugs?
Don't be square. It's just a joint.
That's still illegal!
Not if you get it on prescription.
Maybe you should try it, seeing how tense you are.
I don't understand why
the rural population refuses to accept refugees.
All the grants...
I need to get back to the food.
That's nice, but ideologically they're still in the nineties.
The sixties. Some in the thirties.
Mum, that's really informative,
but I have to set the table.
- They'll be here any minute. - Wait.
Ask Thomas when he will come.
His assistant is so unorganised.
Yes, I will! Bye, I love you.
What are you doing?
It's called distraction.
Could you distract yourself by setting the table?
The left half of the brain stops, the right takes over
and boom, I remember where the damn key is.
- Ah! - Am I too early?
- No. - Just right.
- Hello. - I didn't know what's for dinner.
Something Indian.
- Good, rosé goes with everything. - Yes.
Something Indian? A curry?
- Don't ask me. - Where are the kids?
- At my parents. - Oh, what a shame!
Yes, enjoy the peace.
Mm... smells good!
Rene King.
As a Libra with Libra rising,
he's always balanced and gentle.
Nothing gets on his nerves.
Lucky for him, his job requires a steady hand.
He plays clarinet in the Beethoven Orchestra in Bonn.
Knock, knock! Anyone home?
Hello!
Are those highlights? Fabulous!
- Didn't I tell you? - Sassy!
You're the first to notice.
No, I noticed right away.
I just didn't want to...
Did you go to Sascha? I don't go anywhere else.
Me neither.
René and I have been best friends since childhood.
It's an eyelash wave.
- What? - Yes!
Years ago, after the death of his parents, my parents took him in.
Since then, we've done almost everything together.
René is very sensitive
and always has a sympathetic ear for anyone.
...and he can't get over it...
He knows everything about me and I about him.
He's the sister I never had.
What are you doing?
Elisabeth lost the key to the shed.
- Do you need it? - No. It's the principle.
- What do I get if I find it? - My eternal gratitude.
- How was Munich? - Good. It's Munich.
- They offered me a job. - In Munich?
The Symphony Orchestra. Their clarinettist had a burnout.
You're not seriously considering it?
It's just an offer.
Munich is too far away.
It's not that far.
You said the same about Canada.
Munich is much closer than Toronto.
- Much closer isn't close. - Nothing is decided!
The Munich Symphony Orchestral That's great!
You'll be near Dorothea and can visit her.
True.
Well, who could that be?
- Hello? - It's me, open up!
- First a little question. - Come on.
When was the Federal Republic of Germany founded?
19457
Come on, Thomas, please!
Don't mix the end of fascism with the start of democracy.
- Will you open up? - Fine.
Only if you can tell me who wrote "Intrigue and Love"?
Little tip, it wasn't Goethe.
Well, Tho...
Thomas?
Thomas!
That's my brother. Thomas Böttcher.
Although not a good student, Thomas has had an amazing career.
He's the go-to broker
for luxury real estate in the Cologne-Bonn area.
He doesn't just know the biggest investors,
but has also risen to join the ranks of his wealthy clients.
This is the view!
No surprise, as Thomas could sell ice to Eskimos.
But life in the fast lane ls coming to an end.
Thomas and his girlfriend Anna are expecting their first child.
Hold these.
- Oh, something fine. - A gift from a client.
- It's too good for us... - Don't be silly.
- Where's the Jeep? - Not a Jeep.
- What is it? - An SUV.
- You know nothing about cars. - More than you do about literature.
- And history, philosophy... - Yes!
Biology, art, physics...
- Thomas! - What are you doing?
Looking for the shed key.
Is there a reward?
- His eternal gratitude. - How generous.
Hold on, something has changed.
- It's quiet. - The kids are at Stephan's parents.
Thank God.
- And the fat one? - Thomas!
- In the kitchen. - Where else.
Ugh, wallpaper of the educated.
Tell me, Stephan?
How many of these books have you actually read?
All of them.
All of them?
Several times.
We're not going to drink this tonight.
- Hey! - Hey.
- Where did you leave Anna? - She's coming later.
- She has a casting. - And?
- And what? - The ultrasound.
Oh, yes. That.
Did something happen?
How can I put it...
I have some good news and some bad news.
The good news is...
It's a boy.
And the bad news?
He's dead.
- Oh, no. - What?
It was a joke.
Don't do that!
It's all fine. What else?
Look! Just like Daddy!
Show me, show me!
My nephew!
- Oh, no... - I can't see anything.
Or is it a kind of Rorschach test that we have to interpret?
- Stephan, open your eyes. - He's already more mature than his dad.
Dorothea wanted me to tell you your assistant is unorganised.
Thanks to Mum, she's about to take a sabbatical.
- Wow, organised by an assistant! - Are you jealous?
I'm organised, so I don't need one.
- When will you visit her? - I don't know.
Maybe René will go with you?
He's moving to Munich.
Nothing is decided.
Mum is always asking.
Then tell her,
the weekend of the 32nd/33rd November looks good.
Thomas, she wants to see you before the time comes...
Don't make me feel guilty.
- She seems pretty busy. - The mountains do her good.
Maybe she's just trying to cover up how lonely she is.
How is she lonely?
With the referendum, the charity and the Rosenthals,
she has no time left for us.
- Are we waiting for Anna? - No.
Since she started smoking, she hardly eats.
She smokes?
Yes... What can I say?
Pre-natal stress. She's the first woman to start smoking while pregnant.
It harms the child's growth!
He'll be happy if he can reach a light switch at 18.
I read small people have less success in their jobs than tall ones.
Ah!
What about Gerhard Schröder, Putin...
Or Tom Cruise?
He won't be an actor. Or a politician.
Maybe a drummer?
Tin drummer.
Oskar Matzerath?
"The Tin Drum"? Günther Grass? Hello?
Which cliché of a literature professor aren't you?
So, a boy?
Yes!
Do you have a name?
- Of course! - Oh!
- Guess! - Oh, no...
- Come on! - Wait for Anna.
No, no...
- Guess. - Paul, like our Dad?
- That would be boring. - I imagine a classic name.
They're fashionable again.
Friedrich?
- Karl? - Classic, but wrong.
We aren't chasing trends.
We need to think like him.
What he likes...
Mercedes?
- That's a girl. - Think about the mother.
Marlboro?
That's good. But wrong.
Any day now.
Something must be wrong with this damn cork.
- Max? - No, that is too common.
- Luca? - It's a boy!
It's a boys and girls name. It's very popular.
It's a boy.
So masculine?
Ivan? Wolfgang? Manfred?
- Manfred? - Leonard? Matthias?
- No. No. - Like Kästner?
- Erich? - No! Emil.
Few people know Kästner is Emil...
Neither like Kästner nor the detectives.
Heinrich? Henry?
No. No, no.
Donald?
That's would be good.
Why not?
Give us a hint at least!
- Starts with an A. - Al
- A... A - Um...
- Alexander? - Axel?
- Alois? - Amadeus?
- Aurel? - Ansgar?
- No. - Albert?
Cold.
- Alfred? - What kind of name is that?
- Anton? - No.
Alexander?
We had that.
- Adrian? - Cold.
- Arved? - No, more well-known.
- Andreas! - More original.
- André? - No. Different.
Anders?
Why not?
In Scandinavian countries, Anders is...
He's not Scandinavian.
Right.
I need to check my chicken.
Bring the other corkscrew. This one is broken.
You better not carry on without me.
It's not so easy.
- Arne? - Arnulf?
- No. - Wait for me!
- Yes! - Alfons?
Asterix?
Um, no.
But there is a historical connection.
Ah!
Arthur?
Abraham?
- Alexander? - No, still not Alexander.
Historical, but not Alex.
A... well...
- Attila? - No.
- Anatol? - No.
- Which historical figure is that? - Anatol.
The famous Anatol from German...
Apollo?
Right, Apollo 13. Houston, we have a problem.
- Then I don't know... Augustus? - No.
- Artemis. - You mean Aramis.
- Why? - Artemis is a Greek goddess.
- And Aramis? - One of the three musketeers.
- Aramis? - No.
Then say it.
Adolf.
Very funny. Come on, tell us.
- Adolf. - Don't be silly. Out with it.
Why am I being silly?
Ha, ha, ha.
We laughed a lot.
You're not calling your son Adolf.
Why not?
Adolf.
Like... Adolf?
Exactly.
Really?
- Yes. - But...
Yes, but... you can't...
He can't be serious.
I am serious. It's Adolf.
You want to name your son Adolf?
Like Adolf Hitler?
- Are you stupid? - Right...
You don't have to go ballistic because we chose a special name.
I'm sorry. You're crazy if you call your son Adolf.
Isn't that illegal? I'm sure it is.
- It probably is. - Where's my phone?
What's your Wi-Fi?
Hal!
"In Germany, the name Adolf is, in principle...
not illegal."
"As with all other names,
registry offices are responsible for reviewing
the parental motivation."
My motivation will withstand any review.
That's beside the point.
Even if it's not forbidden... You can't! Not now!
- Why not now? - Hello?
Refugee camps are being burned down.
Xenophobia is becoming socially acceptable.
Don't get me started with the far-right.
- You want to play with fire? - No!
- Shall I explain? - What is there to explain?
I've got it. Abraham!
Like the Rosenthal's son.
Is that it?
Oh, quite the opposite.
- Um... - That's not the problem.
- You spilt some. - What? No. Yes.
- It doesn't matter. - Why?
You told them.
Yes, unfortunately...
I asked you to wait.
- Elisabeth, that's not the problem. - You said!
- Your brother... - No.
- Elisabeth... - I don't care.
- You don't care? - No.
- I'll tell you anyway. - I won't listen.
Blah, blah... Blah, blah...
Stop it.
Blah, blah...
- That's enough. - Blah, blah...
Adolf! Did you hear? Adolf!
He's naming his son Adolf.
- What? - Your bro...
Your brother will baptise his son
in the fine-sounding name of Adolf Böttcher.
- Uh, no. - No?
- What then?
- You were kidding? - I'm not baptising him.
He should decide for himself.
The first time since '45 God and Hitler are used in one sentence.
At least in my circles.
You need to baptise him.
Forget baptism. He's calling his son Adolf.
- Stephan! - Why are you so aggressive?
He's naming his son like Hitler and I'm aggressive?
You can't do that to him.
- You act as if it's a crime. - Against humanity!
At least if we had an Adolf in the family,
you could say it's like his great-grandfather.
But you're marking him for life.
At school, how are teachers supposed to address him?
With his name?
Think about it.
He will be teased all day long.
No, absolutely not.
I'll call him something else.
Right. And what?
No idea. I'll give him a nickname.
What kind of nickname?
I thought...Kid.
- Kid? - Exactly.
"Kid... dinner's ready."
He's not a goat.
I like goats. They're really cute.
So, then you have to tell Kid one day,
that there was another kid who invaded Poland.
Then you have to teach the topic until we get to the rest.
You will call my son by his name.
Adolf.
Like the greatest mass murderer of all time.
There are other Adolfs.
But your Adolf comes after the Adolf
who forever put his mark on the name.
That's why the name will make him a political person.
From day one, he has to be critical of the past.
- He'll hate Nazis. - Or be their new leader.
It's not funny.
It is a little.
Look, isn't he lifting his right arm?
Leave the child alone. It's not his fault.
Maybe at least with -ph?
- Adolph with -ph? - Yes!
So he can be different from Adolf with -f.
Elisabeth! -Ph!
It doesn't make a difference!
- Ph!
Catastrophe!
Philosophy!
- Ph!
Adolf -f and Adolph -ph,
they are homonyms with the same meaning.
Final Solution.
What about an accent? Adolphé!
Don't overdo it, Stephan.
Exactly. Don't overdo it, Stephan.
- Ph!
Thank you for your support, honey.
When's dinner?
Do you want some seeds?
You've outdone yourself, Elisabeth.
- And this was from a client? - They love me.
Your students never give you anything.
Don't be sad, Stephan.
They give you something more valuable.
Their attention.
Tell me, Stephan. Did I understand correctly?
Do you think he did what he did, because his name was Adolf?
- Not again. -1...
- Can you say that again? - Not again.
Not you.
Do you think he did what he did, because his name was Adolf?
Can we eat in peace?
Let your brother speak.
I'm curious.
Hitler wasn't Hitler because of his name.
If he was called Klaus Meier, he would have been the same.
Instead, it would have been "Heil Meier!"
Yes, but Mummy and Daddy Hitler
called their son Adolf,
not Klaus, Peter or Knut.
And what about the other famous Adolfs?
- Who's that? - Adolf...
- Grimme?
Grimme. Adolf Grimme.
His parents called him Adolf
and no one turns down a Grimme Award.
He didn't massacre anybody.
- That's why we chose the name. - Because of Adolf Grimme?
Because we need positive examples.
My Adolf has a mission. He's like Gandhi!
His name calls out peacefully into the world,
"Hitler, you took everything from Germany, but not the name!"
Did you just compare Gandhi with Hitler?
Why not?
My Adolf is in silent protest against your Adolf.
What? My Adolf?
You speak of nothing else.
Hitler here, Hitler there. You're obsessed with Hitler.
That is...
That's the biggest rubbish I've ever heard.
It's not rubbish. It's courage.
I don't shrink away from Hitler. Unlike you.
You make your Adolf an icon of evil. A myth.
- You canonise Hitler - You're exaggerating.
I canonise Hitler?
Not just you, all of Germany.
Hitler still dominates us.
Every second Spiegel cover is Hitler.
Hitler is everywhere. Why?
He's a pop star who people like you keep alive.
- Like me? - Yes.
Not right-wing populists, old Nazis or xenophobic idiots.
Lefties, who claim to be against Hitler,
but get turned on by his crimes every evening on TV.
- Must I listen to this? - I prefer watching ARTE.
I don't just claim to be against Nazis. I am.
Of course I am!
Of course you are,
but put simply, that means you do nothing.
- I donate to refugees. - Your old corduroy suits.
So they look like shit when they get beat up in Saxony.
Here's to you, Stephan. Vive la résistance!
But you're making a stand
by naming your son after the most senior Nazi?
Exactly. By calling my son Adolf,
I'm taking the first step to destroying the myth of Hitler.
Thomas, I have a question. I want you to be honest.
- Yes. - Are you on drugs?
Powdered your nose?
I just want to classify your statement.
- That's uncalled for. - I want to understand him.
I'm going to clear the table.
I'll get the next course ready
and when I come back,
we will speak about something else.
What are we having?
Chicken curry.
Poor Kid.
It's none of my business. I don't want to get involved.
It sounds like you've thought about it.
But won't you reconsider?
You can't separate Adolf from Hitler. Your protest is in vain.
So the name should be erased? Forever?
That's how it is.
Then you have to throw away your favourite trainers or "sneakers".
Huh?
What do you wear when you're relaxing on the weekend?
What are you on about?
- Trainers. - Hm, Adidas?
Yes, okay.
And where does the "Adi" in Adidas come from?
Adolf Dassler, founder of Adidas.
Millions of Germans wear Adolf on their feet.
And not just that.
Adidas is on every shirt of the German national team.
- It's an argument. - A shit one!
They have no association with Hitler! With Adolf, that's all you think of.
So it depends what people think?
No! Except with a name like Adolf.
So a name like Snoopy would be okay?
Snoopy didn't wipe out Europe!
- Neither did my Adolf! - Stephan, Thomas! Calm!
Adolf is the byword for crime!
You can't call your son Adolf!
Ah, the name is forbidden, even though it's not forbidden?
- You... could say that. - Aha.
Does it apply to other names?
- What? - Let's make a list.
Let's make a list.
Whatever Schindler can do, Böttcher can do better.
I can hear you.
Begin.
Or is Adolf the only forbidden name?
- Can we change the topic? - No, we're making Böttcher's List.
We're looking for a new name. Any ideas?
Josef? Like Grandpa? Classic, not too common.
With -f or -ph?
Can't have Josef, right Stephan?
I don't know history like you, but wasn't there another dictator?
- Stalin. - Ah! Yes, right!
Josef Stalin.
Josef is also the name of Jesus' father,
but then Josef came and gave the name his own stamp.
Right?
Yes, that's the principle.
In principle.
So, bye Josef...
Bye...Erich.
- And bye, Ben. - Ben?
I haven't studied, but there was
another one in Italy, right?
Benito Mussolini.
Ha! Yes, right.
And again. Countless dead.
Benito, Ben, Benedikt...
It didn't bother the Pope, but Stephan is more papal than the pope.
Oh, and Hitler's gang.
- Bye, Heinrich... - Hermann.
Bye, Hermann.
And bye again, Joseph.
What about your godfather, Fritz?
- Fritz Haarmann? - The serial killer?
How many victims?
Around 20? Around 20.
- Still a moderate success. - Ridiculous!
Tell me, Stephan.
How many deaths are needed to ban a name?
This is stupid.
Okay, well let's keep going with serial killers then.
Suggestions?
I'll start with the most well-known.
Jack the Ripper.
So no Jack. What is the German form of Jack?
Hans.
Thanks. Hans.
- That's a nice name. - Next?
- Marc Dutroux? - René, don't join in!
Very good, Rene. Bye, Marc.
Right, so. What about terrorists?
- Andreas Baader. - René!
Andreas is out.
There's not much left for new-borns.
Thomas. I think we've got it.
Rudolf?
Hess.
- It's your problem. - No, Elisabeth!
Your brother has a duty as part of society.
He's the father!
But you have to tell the Rosenthals his name is Adolf!
I can't wait. They'll understand I'm doing them a favour.
I'm doing us all a favour.
Yes, it's generous
that you want to free us all from fascism.
But if you name your son Adolf,
you can forget that.
Because he's called Adolf. Like Hitler.
Everyone will say, "The parents are Nazis."
Full stop.
End of discussion.
Okay.
Whatever.
See, he's not that stubborn.
My chicken!
When I come back, we tell René why he can't move to Munich.
- Have you found a place? - No.
- Wait for me! - Yes!
We'll wait!
I'm curious to see what Elisabeth has prepared.
Yes.
- What will he be called then? - Huh? Adolf.
Stop it. We had a laugh. So?
Adolf.
You just said you didn't want to do it.
No, you said, "End of discussion!"
And I said, "Whatever". For Lisa.
Your tantrum proves how necessary it is.
And Stephan, it's not just an idea.
It's the start of a revolution.
I'm going to throw up.
Stephan!
René, who do you hate the most?
- No one. - There must be someone.
- I wouldn't say that. - Someone you don't like?
Franz Schwertfeger, our second violinist.
Franz is an arsehole's name.
It makes you think of...
Franz Von Assisi or Franz Beckenbauer.
- And not Franz Schubert or Liszt? - No, no.
Hey.
Franz Schwertfeger erases all saints because he's an arsehole.
So Adolf Böttcher can succeed in pushing Hitler from his throne.
- What's going on? - They started again.
- No. - Franz Schwertfeger, thank God.
I don't get it.
Then you should stay here.
Sorry that I'm cooking for you!
- Sabeth! - Leave me alone.
It's role play.
It's the only way they can have sex. They're fucking in the kitchen. Bet?
Sabeth, I'm sorry. Your brother is killing me.
My fair young lady, may I make so free as to lend you my arm and company?
No Goethe quotes in my Kitchen.
Fucking thing.
HITLER, MEIN KAMPF A CRITICAL EDITION
What's up?
- I really fell for it. - What?
Adolf.
I'm serious.
I saw it.
What have you seen?
Hitler, Adolf. "Mein Kampf, Critical Edition".
You didn't push it back completely.
Fuck!
But he gets so upset!
"The name must be erased forever."
Don't tell the others.
- Okay, but I won't lie. - Yes.
Do what you want, but leave me out of it.
What are you really calling him?
Paul, like Dad.
Paul. Dorothea will like that.
- Sabeth... - Leave me alone.
There was this moment between us and he asked,
"Mum, why does Dad have hair on his boobs?"
Oh, how lovely...
It wasn't worth arguing about.
I agree. Can I have some more?
What is worth arguing about?
- Oh, please, Stephan. - I'm just asking.
For you, what is important enough to argue about?
Maybe we don't have to argue.
Yes, you're right.
We don't need to.
But what makes you angry? Clearly not fascism.
- It wasn't about that. - What then?
Well, you.
The name was just a hook
to start an argument.
Ah.
The topic doesn't matter. It's just an excuse to argue.
Abortion? Burka ban? Genetic engineering?
Someone takes a position. Somebody else another.
The only aim is to annoy each other.
I would never call my son Adolf.
It's always the same.
You play talk show. With talk show topics.
The main thing is to prove how seriously we take ourselves.
What?
It's amusing, but I won't get involved.
Finally.
Something wrong?
No, eat in peace. I'll get it.
Delicious.
- Hello! - Sorry, I'm so late.
No problem. No problem.
The food's still warm.
Take it off. The guys are in good form tonight.
Oh! Wow, he's grown!
- Does he move a lot? - Yes. Quite a lot.
Nice dress. Is this what you wear for castings?
- Careful with the hook. - Hardly anything fits anymore.
The hook is really...
You won't believe who I met recently for a cocktail at Café Klecks.
Mario Petzold.
- How do you know... - Sorry!
The director took forever.
- We already started. - I'm not hungry anyway.
Let me look at you. You look great.
You too.
You haven't put on a pound. How?
- Welcome! - Thanks.
- You never said that to me. - You put on weight!
It doesn't matter, it's almost all gone!
I hope so. After almost six years.
- That's not what I meant. - Every woman is different.
And I'm the fat type?
No, you're normal. You're healthy.
The food looks great.
- Sure you won't have some? - No.
No wine either. Unfortunately.
So, how are you?
Castings are stressful, but I think I'm getting somewhere.
- Are you still taking roles? - Most are for after the birth.
She wants to work as soon as she can.
It's great she's doing so well.
When he's three weeks old,
I can take him to the nursery and pick him up.
Thomas gets carried away.
As if I'll have my figure back after three weeks.
You keep this up and you'll never lose your old figure.
You're such a charmer.
I think a bit of flesh is sensual, right Stephan?
- It's very feminine. - See?
That's very sweet, but those casting directors see it differently.
A few love handles never harmed anyone.
- Love handles? - Yes, I have some. You, too.
No, we don't.
- Men have fat. Bacon. - A paunch, a belly.
Do you use face cream?
- If anyone does, it's René. - Right.
How do you treat your skin?
- We don't. - We wash it.
- Won't you eat? - No.
- You're eating for two. - No.
Yes, from what we've heard,
there's a leader growing in you.
What is it?
They think our son's name is...
sub-optimal.
You told them?
He couldn't resist. He was so proud.
You don't think it's wicked?
No, we don't think it's wicked.
Not least because "wicked" is a hon-word.
It has nothing to do
with its original meaning being "Wicca", the witch.
It's just a stupid synonym
that every idiot uses.
Like: "your hair is wicked, your car is wicked". Everything is wicked.
It shouldn't be in the vocabulary of someone over 18.
They don't think it's wicked.
Shame.
Well, we were a bit surprised.
I'd say horrified.
I'm sorry.
We thought you'd like the reference.
The reference?
That's just what we didn't like.
Hm?
I think there's a misunderstanding.
Leave it.
How dare you come and say it to our face?
- I don't get it. - Thomas had this idea. All right.
But you're going along with it.
- Yes, the name was my idea. - Really?
So...
Well, maybe you're not so familiar with its history.
But forget it.
But you are aware of what this man did back then?
No idea. I never met him.
"I never..." Listen to her.
"She" is sitting here.
Say it to my face.
- Anna... - Gladly.
You are living proof of educational failure.
The chick has a screw loose.
- Uh.. - What'?
The chick has a screw loose.
- Thomas, that's enough! - Good...
Are you happy? This is what you get with that fucking name.
Who do you think you are?
- He didn't mean that. - He's a professor.
- He knows what he's saying. - Indeed.
I know words and their meaning, I don't just repeat them.
- Fuck you. - Woah!
The smartass can shove it.
I can call my son what I want!
No, you can't.
I won't take advice from someone
who named his kids Cajus and Antigone!
Woah! Stop! Stop!
Stop. It was a joke.
It was a joke.
I told them we were calling him Adolf.
That's why Stephan is so annoyed.
It was a joke.
We're naming him Paul, like Dad. That's what Anna meant.
Right...
Let's calm down...
Sit down again...
Eat the chicken. It's delicious.
And dessert too. Right, Lisa?
It's all fine.
You have to push and pull.
- At the same time. - Wait.
It was expensive.
That was intentional.
It wasn't!
Shall I get you ice?
Okay, it was stupid of me.
I'm an arse. I'm sorry.
I apologise, okay?
René, will you play us something?
No.
Lisa, help me.
Anyone for dessert?
Stephan?
Won't you say something?
What should I say? Did it hurt?
Don't you see, this whole story was about
telling us how stupid our kid's names are?
Rubbish. I just saw "Mein Kampf" on the shelf.
It was a joke. That's it.
- Well... very funny. - He apologised.
Thomas yes, Anna not.
- Me? I only answer to "chick". - Annal Please.
Nobody wanted to insult you or your kids.
" Won't take advice from someone
who named his kids Cajus and Antigone!"
- Why did she say that? - What do you want to hear?
What I think about his kids' names.
- Exactly. - She likes the names.
Really?
Yes.
We think Cajus and Antigone are...
...cool names. Really.
Finally.
I wondered where it was all this time and there it was.
- What? Who? - Your face.
What about it?
You make it when you say something you don't mean.
I don't make a face.
You've never noticed?
Okay, we get it.
You're angry because I was joking around,
but enough's enough.
Man...
How did the audition for the series go, darling?
It wasn't a series. It was a play.
How did the audition for the play go?
You're interested?
Of course.
Usually you never ask.
You always react like this.
You don't take my career seriously.
Jesus.
What do you want to say?
"What career?"
No, that's not it.
I went to an internationally renowned drama school.
And last year, I did a workshop in New York.
That I paid for.
It was a birthday present!
And yet I'm taking maternity leave. And you?
We've talked about it. It's financial.
I'd love to take paternity leave.
- There it is again. - What? Who?
Your face.
Of course, I make my face. It's my face.
Okay.
How do I make it?
"I'd love to take paternity leave."
Where's the face? ll don't get it.
- You're not making a face. - Right!
- It's more a pout. - Pout is too much.
You think? But it is more like...
Exactly.
What?
"Stephan, your new Opel is very nice."
Yes, exactly.
Isn't that a pout?
It's more a face than a pout!
- Don't let them get to you. - They're not.
"Cajus and Antigone are cool names. Really."
That's good.
It's really sweet.
Laugh. I'm above it.
"I'm above it!"
Do you know what this face says?
- You can kiss my arse. - Oh!
Police! Police!
- Don't be so sensitive. - I'm not.
- I'll get dessert. - I'll help.
- Pass me the pot. - Yes.
- I'll do it. - Put it in there.
The face was perfect!
- You should act too. - Do you think?
In tenth grade, I was in Theatre Club.
You have always struggled with verse.
Tadam, tadam, tadam. I had to listen.
Why did you stop?
I was too scared.
You were cute.
Is there anything else to do?
You think they're stupid names.
You know that they are not normal names.
They sound like... what do I know,
like a play.
"Big premiere today: 'Cajus and Antigone'!"
- What is normal? - What? Usual.
Conventional. Not so original.
And is Adolf original or normal?
You're really pissing me off!
They're original to be original.
They're not names. They're like post-its on a forehead.
"I'm the Anti-Kevin. My parents are really clever." It's dumb.
Paul Böttcher sounds like a Jeep and GQ.
It is not a Jeep.
And I don't care what people think.
Unlike you.
You're so obsessed that you don't even notice
that your kids are victimized at school
because they have stupid names.
You are a pseudo-intellectual poser.
Me?
- Pseudo-intellectual? - And poser.
- Obsessed with my image? - Eaten up by it.
Of all your jokes today, that's the best.
Dessert.
It tastes incredible!
I can't believe you're saying that. You are egomania personified.
Me? Ego-maniacal?
Self-confident, yes. And not perfect...
I think Thomas is generous.
- See! - Oh...
Not everyone sees your egomania.
- Thanks. - I don't follow.
You do everything to be in the centre of attention.
You can't stand it when you're not.
I've been observing you for a while.
Since when?
For a long, long time.
And when did you see it for the first time?
- Can you stop now? - How? For how long?
René, can you say something?
- When? - Thanks!
It all started with Jackie.
Aunt Ulla's dog.
You know what I'm talking about.
Aunt Ulla had a terrier.
That neurotic mutt was the thing she held most dear.
- A child replacement. - A sweet dog.
But totally stupid. She spoiled him.
It was a hot day in autumn. We were by the Rhine.
The adults drank beer. We were bored.
- How old were you? -/ was thirteen...
- He was fourteen, I was nine. - Now you remember?
Jackie wouldn't stop barking.
- Do you remember, Rene? - He had a scruffy coat.
- And brown ears... - We threw stones in the water.
At some point, I said,
"Why don't we throw sticks?"
- Thomas thought it was stupid. - It was.
But you didn't stop me.
At first, it all went well.
Jackie brought back the stick from the reeds.
Went out and then swam to shore.
And then I threw the stick further.
Even further. As far as I could.
And suddenly, the current was too strong.
Jackie was carried off... Plop.
And gone.
You killed Jackie?
Yes! I killed Jackie.
- That's horrible. - The real horror is still to come.
Thomas said it was him.
Sorry I saved you from a spanking.
That's how he is! And that was at nine!
I thought he might have saved me out of friendship.
But no! He stole my murder!
Psychologists would love you.
And why did he do that?
Why?
For attention.
It was my fault.
My fault that the poor dog drowned.
But he said, "Aunt Ulla, I killed Jackie."
- I don't believe it. - It's crazy, right?
I could hardly sit for a week.
Of course, I remember.
That's what you wanted. Same with Adolf. To get our attention.
You're insane.
"Ego-maniacal. Pathological self-obsession.
Desire to be in the centre of all activities and happenings."
Look! Here's a photo of you!
Look in the book. Look under S.
- S? - S, for stingy.
What?
Yes, you found a word for me. I'll find one for you.
Stingy?
- Is that all? - Oh, I have more.
- But one at a time. - Stop!
You both win a set.
It's a tie. It's over. Okay?
No such thing as a tie in tennis.
- What? - You said it was a tie.
That's incorrect.
Sorry, I forgot you knew all words and their meanings.
And tennis.
Better than football and cars.
- Better than you know literature. - Okay.
Do you want a smack in the face?
You are a pseudo-intellectual scrooge.
That's enough. Everybody stop.
Stephan is not stingy.
Right. But I'm pseudo-intellectual?
No, but...
No, it...
You just value...
- René? - Yes. Exactly.
René. Do you think I'm stingy?
Well, you're not wasteful.
That's it.
In René's words that's really stingy.
- No. - We could say miserly.
Or cheap.
And you are generous. Or is that big-headed?
You gave Antigone an iPad for her name day.
- She already had toothpicks. - That's Mikado.
Highly educational! Unlike an iPad.
- Your stinginess is pathological. - Yes, says you.
- Overpaid as you are. - Let's not forget E.
Envy.
And there it is again, your egomania.
What do I have to be envious of? You didn't even get your A-levels.
Now we're getting to the point.
The amazing Professor Berger,
whose extraordinary brain knows everything.
And there's little Thomas, the dropout
who earns three times as much as you.
Without A-levels!
You think it's all about material worth,
but I don't care about appearances.
Aha.
Why do you steam labels off my wine bottles then?
Steam what?
I've seen you.
You steam the labels off my bottles and stick them on bottles of cheap wine.
- Oh, my God! - I don't know what he's talking about.
Was that what you were doing when I came in?
What? No. When?
I had a lesson cancelled.
- You were boiling water. - That's ridiculous.
What were you doing then?
What was I doing? Experiments!
- For the kids. - Oh, right.
Oh, oh.
Great. Okay.
Now that we're all being honest with each other,
Darling, René should also find out,
what Thomas calls him.
- Stephan, that's enough. - You are so crass.
Did anyone thank Elisabeth for the food?
Of course.
- What? When? - You were in the kitchen.
Oh, of course.
What do you call me, Thomas?
- René, please. - Don't get involved.
Just forget it, okay?
I want to know what I'm called.
- No! You don't. - Why?
René, trust us, you don't.
Don't lower yourself to these fools' level.
Thomas.
- What do you call me? - René, please.
- Leave it... - Stop.
I want to know.
Queen.
Queen?
He calls you the Queen. Are you happy now?
The Queen? Is that bad?
Well...
René King... The Queen.
I don't understand.
- Stop pretending. - It's all good.
We love you as you are.
How am 1? What are you talking about?
- You don't get it? - No!
Look, "Queen"...
It's meant lovingly.
I'm not saying fag or poof.
Why would you?
You think I'm gay.
I have to say, I feel relieved that I've come clean about Jackie.
But I'm not gay!
- You're the only one who doesn't know. - Thomas.
It's not an issue nowadays. There's equal marriage.
We have a gay Foreign Minister, the Mayor of Berlin,
presenters, musicians, dancers, MPs, footballers!
Footballers aren't gay!
- It's up to him. - I would tell you if I was.
Come on, René! You aren't married.
You live in Cologne, but work in Bonn.
You have cocktails with Mario Petzold in Café Klecks?
You wear colours like lilac and orange...
Who wears orange except in Guantanamo?
You like to bake, you cook, you drink rose...
You use perfume.
- Eau de toilette. - See!
I love men because I like cocktails?
And wear lilac?
What year is this?
I also like Céline Dion and Thomas Mann! No mention of them!
- We're not judging you. - Of course not!
Okay, we were all wrong. You like women.
You do like women?
- Yes. - What?
At least one.
- You met somebody? - Yes.
Really?
Yes.
- But you're not together? - We are.
Why didn't I know?
What's she like? Tall, short, blonde?
Brunette? Inflatable?
- You're annoying! - I can ask.
- I'm not in the mood. - You're not in the mood?
When it's about you, you shirk away.
I don't know if you're gay. But I know one thing.
You're a wuss.
- What do you want to know? - Don't rise to it.
He's allowed to admit it.
He hasn't taken a vow of silence.
What do you want to know? Ask me.
- How long have you been together? - A couple of years.
A couple of years? And you didn't tell me?
And what's she like?
- Great. - René, please stop. Both of you, stop.
Why don't you want him to tell us?
Well I, um...
- Well... - Do you know her?
Yes.
Anna knows her.
It's getting better. Do we know her too?
Yes.
It's not Mario Petzold?
No.
Someone you know much better.
- What do you mean? - Much better.
Better than anyone else.
- What? - Fuck.
Seriously?
It's been going on so long. Tell them.
- Oh, my God! - I don't believe it.
René, tell them.
Come on, tell them or I will.
- Okay, I will. - What should he say?
I'm sorry. I didn't want it.
Oh, God. No. You didn't do that?
I didn't do what?
- Is it mine? - What?
- Is he mine? - What do you mean?
Little Adolf, of course.
What?
Oh, my God! Are you serious?
No, not that! Come on!
- I really thought... - Yes, me too.
Really.
Man!
Who is it then?
Elisabeth...
I'm with Dorothea.
Dorothea who?
Dorothea. Your mother.
Huh?
- Whose mother? - It's Dorothea, Thomas.
- Who? Dorothea Thomas? - Dorothea.
Your mother. My mother.
Our Mum!
How...
- You're with Mum? - Yes.
You laughed.
You almost had me! Now we're even.
It's not a joke.
Dorothea and I are a couple.
But, I...
Elisabeth...
- I thought we were close. - We are.
- But you don't trust me. - Of course I trust you.
But not as much as her. How long have you known?
That's between you two.
- How long have you known? - Thomas!
Say my name once more and I'll shove your clarinet up your ass.
Sideways!
How long?
You're hurt and it's difficult to understand. But...
It's a simple question. How long have you known?
Why does it matter?
So I know how long the mother of my child lied to me.
It's between Dorothea and René.
Stop drinking.
I'm just getting started.
- I was afraid you wouldn't understand. - It's the principle.
If it was another woman, or man, it would be the same.
What are you talking about? It's Mum!
Stop saying Mum! All ll can hear is Mum!
How old are you? Nine?
Your Mum loves a man. So?
Not a man!
A... René!
Grow up. Seriously.
René, we have been close for over thirty years.
In that time, hardly a day has gone by
that we haven't seen each other or spoken.
Or at least written.
I always trusted you.
Elisabeth, everybody has secrets.
I don't. Not from Rene. He knows everything.
Everything?
For once, it's not about you!
René knows my good days and my bad.
He knows my desires, my dreams, my worries.
I've told him about your problems, too.
- That is... - What?
Too private? Too intimate? What are friends for?
What for? René... How could you!
It was years ago. It's not worth mentioning.
I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't.
Why did you tell Anna?
He didn't.
I saw the two of them in Cologne.
Holding hands.
Stop it!
I was scared!
Scared you wouldn't understand.
- We... - Stop! Stop!
You are talking about Mum!
My mother, who took you in as a child.
Who buttered your bread and bought you cassettes.
The wife of Paul, my father.
Do you get it?
I understand why you don't understand...
Papa loved you! René this, René that!
It's perverted.
Thomas, calm down or leave!
I'm leaving!
No, Thomas! Calm down and stay.
Thomas!
Thomas.
Thomas!
You wanted him to tell us.
I didn't know I'd open up the gates of hell!
Don't exaggerate!
- Thomas! - Stay. Let's listen to him.
Thomas!
Your parents took me in
when I was seven.
You all took me in and gave me security.
Elisabeth became my best friend, a soulmate.
Thomas, you annoyed me, like little boys do.
Dorothea introduced me to music.
She made me what I am.
Paul's death...
changed everything.
I realized I loved a woman
I wasn't supposed to love.
At least not... like that.
I didn't want it to show.
I didn't want anyone to notice.
Neither you nor her.
So, I decided not to see her anymore.
I wanted to forget her. I wanted to leave.
So...
I accepted the tour offer and left.
- To Canada! - Yes.
I fled.
Dorothea thought
Paul's death had pushed us apart.
She thought she wasn't important to me. The opposite was true.
Over time, it got worse.
One evening, in the middle of a concert,
I couldn't keep playing.
!/ flew back that night,
rented a car at the airport,
and drove to Dorothea.
I had to speak to her. I couldn't keep it to myself anymore.
I Arrived in the dark. It was pouring.
You couldn't see two metres in front of you.
Then suddenly...
as though she had always been waiting,
there she stood.
I felt empty and exhausted, but...
I was happy.
Finally I was there, where I belonged.
The raindrops on Dorothea's face were like tears.
Or maybe they were tears, I'm not sure.
It was a dream, and yet reality.
Dorothea took me by the hand and...
then we slept together.
- Oh, René! - Shut your mouth!
René!
Oh, wow.
Look at that.
- It's okay. - No, it's not.
Apologise.
Sorry, Rene, that I punched you in the face,
even though you deserved it.
Sorry you're not taking it well, but I don't need your permission.
We are old enough.
Yes, especially her.
- Okay, that wasn't bad. - Man...
She could be your mother. She is almost your mother.
I get why she didn't want to tell you.
You've talked about it with her?
I told her you would understand.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Dorothea! I'll pass you on.
Hello, Mum!
Great. Fantastic atmosphere.
The food was great.
We couldn't even finish it.
Why?
I don't want to bore you with the details...
Thomas told us he wanted to name his son Adolf.
Anna arrived an hour late for dinner,
and told us she thought our kids' names are dumb.
But that was nothing in comparison to the murder of Jackie,
which incidentally Stephan committed
and not Thomas, as we'd thought all these years.
And it turns out that Stephan steams the labels from Thomas' expensive wine
and then gives us the cheap stuff.
By the way, Thomas said to say he'd like to visit
on the weekend of the 32nd/33rd.
If you have nothing planned with your lover.
Hm?
René, who else? Unless there's another?
Yes, fine.
Mum wants to talk to you.
Just a second.
I'll tell you later.
Not so well...
Okay. I'll let you know.
Yes, ll... me too.
She's coming tomorrow.
And now this.
Elisabeth, call Dorothea and apologise.
- I need to apologise? - Of course.
And who apologises to me?
- Well? Anyone? - I don't understand.
Do you know what you look like?
My students when I catch them cheating.
They sit there, with a book on their lap,
holding the cheat sheet,
their eyes say, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
You're always so proud of your intellect.
Sabeth? Are you okay?
What's going on here?
What does my hysterical wife want?
No idea! Maybe an apology?
I slave away the whole evening, preparing dinner,
I took the kids to your parents,
so you had peace and quiet.
What did you do?
You attack each other without a care.
You can't even carry a plate to the kitchen.
You wanted children so badly.
Do you look after them? No! Never!
You just play with them when you feel like it.
Usually on Sundays for 15 minutes,
they get totally overexcited and sweaty
right before I have to put them to bed.
You don't care. You don't worry.
You don't have to get up if they have a nightmare
or if they wet the bed and Mum has to clean it up.
No, you urgently have to go to your study
and read the highly interesting essay by XY
in the latest edition of Blah Blah Weekly.
Do you remember how it began?
I stopped writing my thesis so you could write yours.
And what was yours called?
It was my topic!
It would have been a shame
to waste my preliminary work.
No, in this house absolutely nothing is wasted.
And who proofread it all?
I did. I had time. I was on maternity leave.
I had nothing to do!
Nothing at all. Just like this evening!
I have done nothing. I have nothing to do here.
And you have dinners with your nice colleagues.
You have to think of excuses why I can't come.
Are you embarrassed by me?
Are you embarrassed I know more about your doctoral thesis than you?
Or that I didn't lose weight after the kids?
Do you ever apologise for that?
No! Of course not.
And you, Thomas? Hm? Mummy's boy.
From the day you were born,
you did whatever you wanted.
Dad's sweet, little clown, who can do whatever he wants.
Bad grades? No problem.
Drop out of school? Sure. Why not?
If he doesn't feel like it.
We have your stupid sister to fulfill our hopes and expectations.
René, I can't think of anything else.
You know everything about me, I know nothing of you.
Annal
Apparently we don't know each other.
Have a smoke.
Or have a schnapps
to your Adolf or Paul, or Knut!
I'm going to get
a nice bottle of our cheap wine
and take it to bed, alone.
Like every evening!
You can all go to hell.
I just wanted to make a joke.
- I'm taking you home. - What about Elisabeth?
It's okay. I'll sort it.
I'll take the car. Get a taxi.
I'll see you tomorrow, if you've calmed down.
Anna, I...
- See you. - I'll bring you to the door.
Come on. That's good.
Here.
Thanks.
Oh, man.
Just the thought of Mum with the Queen.
With a little luck, at least they won't be having kids.
That's sweet!
René's rosé.
Sweet and warm.
Give it some time.
It's always hard to accept a stepfather.
Here. I'll check on Sabeth.
Good night.
Don't you want to crash here?
No, I'll get a hotel.
Don't be silly, stay here.
- Really? - Of course.
The sofa is really comfy.
Sleep there a lot?
Sometimes.
Look.
Do I get your eternal gratitude?
No. I'll lend it to you.
With interest, because I'm so stingy.
Good night, comedian.
Good night, murderer.
And so ended an evening, after which nothing was the same...
Sabeth, open up.
...and yet everything stayed the same.
People argue and make up.
That's how it is.
In a rapidly changing world,
we have to rely on those we love.
Even if they sometimes annoy or disappoint us.
Life went on and things took their natural course.
Three months later, Anna gave an unforgettable performance.
Hushed is the din of arms, war's storms subside,
Glad song and dance succeed the bloody fray,
Altar and church are decked in rich array.
Her water broke and the child,
who Thomas wanted to take paternity leave for...
...finally came into the world.
We rushed to the hospital to visit the boy.
But there was a problem.
And?
There's... some good news and some bad news.
- What? - The good news ...
The mother is well.
What's the bad?
Well, the child is...
The child is...
a girl!
Don't do that to us!
- How can that be? - Do you have a name?
No Limits Media 2018 Subtitles: Tizzy Mann et Al