A Dangerous Method

Good morning...

I'm Dr. Jung.

I admitted you yesterday.

I'm not...

I'm not...

not mad, you know.

Let me explain what I have in mind.

I propose that we meet here,

most days, to talk for an hour or two.

Talk?

Yes.

Just talk.

See if we can identify

what's troubling you.

So as to distract you

as little as possible,

I'm gonna sit there,

behind you.

I'm gonna ask you to try not to turn around

and look at me under any circumstances.

Now...

Have you any idea what may have brought

on these attacks you suffer from?

Hu...

humiliation.

Any kind of...

humiliation.

Like, I can't bear to see it and

it makes me feel nauseated.

I start pouring with sweat,

cold sweat.

My...

my...

my...

my... my... my father...

lost his... his temper all the time.

He was always...

he's always angry with me.

When you stopped talking just now,

did a thought come into your head?

I...

I don't know...

Or an image, perhaps.

Was it an image?

Yes.

What was the image?

It was a hand.

My...

my... my father's hand.

Why do you think you saw that?

When... whenever he would...

after...

whenever he...

whenever he hit us, we...

afterward we had to...

we had to kiss his hand.

What's odd is...

that case I was writing up last week,

I happened to pick the codename

Sabina S.

And here she is... Sabina Spielrein.

Quite a coincidence.

As you know, I don't believe

there is such a thing.

Spielrein's not a very Russian name.

No, Jewish.

Father's a very successful

import-export man.

And she's exceptionally well educated,

speaks fluent German.

Aspires to be a doctor herself,

apparently.

Perhaps she's the one.

What one?

The one you've been looking for.

For your experimental treatment.

The talking cure.

You're so astute.

I've already begun it with her.

He's kicking.

Can you feel it?

Oh, yes.

There he is.

What I don't understand is

why Freud, having proposed

this radical therapeutic idea,

this talking cure, this

psychoanalysis, then lets

years go by without giving

even the barest outline of

his clinical procedures?

What's he playing at?

Presumably he uses the

method on his patients?

I've no idea.

So might you be the first

doctor to try this out?

It's possible.

Why don't you write and ask him?

I don't know him.

As it happens, Miss Spielrein's mother

wanted to take her to see Freud.

Another coincidence.

My father thinks my

mother doesn't love him.

And he's right, she doesn't.

How do you know?

My angel told me.

What angel?

An inner voice.

He used to tell me

I was an exceptional person.

For some reason

he always spoke in German.

Angels always speak German.

It's traditional.

He gave me the power to know

what people are going to say...

before they open their mouths.

Useful ability for a doctor.

You hope to be a doctor

some day, don't you?

I'll never be a doctor.

Why not?

I have to go away for awhile.

I'm sorry.

We've just gotten started.

Military service.

We all have to do it.

- Just for a couple of weeks.

- It's a waste of time!

I can't tell you whatever it is

you want to know! You're just...

you're just making me angry.

And even if I could tell you,

you'd be sorry you ever...!

Anyway, there's nothing wrong with me!

I don't even want to get better!

Stop it!

- What? I was only trying to...

- Will you just stop with...

stop with that!

I'm sorry.

Can we get back now?

- Yes, if you want to.

- I need to get back.

It's a complete waste of my time.

Writing prescriptions

for athlete's foot...

and examining c*cks

from morning 'til night.

Is that what you do?

It's not good for me.

It's not good for my patients.

You're playing with your food.

I'm not hungry.

Is that so?

I shall have to tell Professor Bleuler.

Ha.

Do what you like.

Please, Miss, give me your hand.

Please.

You'll catch your death.

Miss Spielrein.

The Herr Direktor.

Blueleri feel you may have a little

too much time on your hands.

I'm a great believer in getting our

patients involved in some productive work.

What are your particular interests?

Suicide.

Interplanetary travel.

When Dr.

Jung returns, I shall ask him to discuss

all this with you in more detail.

You keep him away from me.

I never want to see him again!

Now, come along.

Don't make such a fuss.

Give me those legs.

Here's the sponge?

Just lie still.

That's better.

Hello?

I'm back.

How have you been?

I've been talking to the Herr Direktor

about finding some work for you.

I told him you'd always been

interested in medicine.

So he suggested you might like to

assist me occasionally, in my research.

We're quite short-staffed so

it would certainly be a help to me.

Vienna.

Woods.

Box.

Bed.

Money.

Bank.

Child.

Soon.

Family.

Unit.

Sex.

Uh...

male.

Wall.

Flower.

Young.

Baby.

Ask.

Answer.

Cap.

Wear.

Stubborn.

Give way.

Ruefulness.

Child.

Fame.

Doctor.

Divorce.

No.

Thank you.

Is that all?

That's all.

How did I do?

Beautifully.

Good bye.

Yes, good bye.

Any preliminary observations?

Obviously, what's uppermost

in her mind is her pregnancy.

Good.

And she's a little...

what's the word?

Why don't we try a useful word invented

"ambivalent".

Yes, about the baby.

Anything else?

I'd say she was worried her husband

might be losing interest in her.

What makes you think that?

The long reaction times to the words

"family" and "divorce".

I see.

And when you said... "cap,

she said "wear".

Might that be a reference

to contraception?

You have quite a flair for this.

Can I ask you something?

Of course.

Is she your wife?

I'm sorry.

Sorry?

I promised you a son

on Christmas Day.

And here she is

a day late and the wrong sex.

Don't be absurd.

'A' for Agathe.

Next time I'll give you a boy.

Can you explain why your

nights have been so bad?

I'm afraid.

Of what?

There's something in the room.

Something like...

like a cat, only it can speak.

It gets into bed with me.

Last...

last night, it... it suddenly...

whispered something in my ear.

I couldn't hear what.

But then...

I felt it...

against my back.

Something...

slimy like...

like a... s...

like some kind of a mollusc,

moving against my back.

But when I...

when I turned around,

there was nothing there.

You felt it against your back?

Yes.

Were you naked?

I was.

Were you masturbating?

Yes.

Tell me about the first time you can

remember being beaten by your father.

I suppose I was...

about four.

I'd broken...

a plate or...

oh, yes, and...

and he told me...

to go into the little room and...

take my clothes off.

And then...

he came in and...

spanked me.

And then I...

I was so... frightened

that I wet myself and then he...

he hit me again.

And then I...

That first time... how did you feel

about what was happening?

I liked it.

Would you repeat that, please?

I couldn't quite hear.

I liked it.

It excited me.

And did you continue to like it?

Yes!

Yes!

Before long, he only...

just had to... to say to me

to go to the little room and I would...

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