Christopher and His Kind Page #2

- You were in prison?

- Yes.

For expressing anti-British sentiments.

Though how, I ask,

could I be regarded as a traitor,

when I have rivers of Irish blood

simply coursing through my veins?

So you're in business here?

One must have fingers in many pies, dear boy.

Such alarming times we live in.

Heinrich.

A young stevedore I encountered in Hamburg.

And what were you doing in Hamburg?

What is one ever doing anywhere?

Passing through, dear boy.

That is our destiny.

Forever passing through.

He does make rather an impression, though.

Well, I um...

I have found, Christopher, down the years,

that I've never been able to relax sexually

with a member of my own class.

That an affair with one's social

and intellectual equal is well-nigh impossible.

Hm?

I suppose.

You're in the right city, dear boy.

Quite the place to let your hair down

with some eager young prole.

Oh, dear.

Is it crooked?

Just a tiny bit, perhaps.

One must take a little care. We're still illegal.

And should the Nazis come to power,

they'll stamp us out altogether.

What's the current Communist line?

As far as I know,

Lenin said nothing about buggery.

Dearest Heinrich.

He smelt exactly like a fox.

Delicious.

Haven't you gone yet, Ludo?

Do put something on.

You'll frighten the horses.

He's Polish.

He noticed I was staring at his wig

and asked if it was crooked.

"Just a little," I said.

And he straightened it.

- You like, ja?

- Ja, spot on.

- Window.

- Good.

Good.

Hm?

And this?

- Fish.

- No.

What is it?

Big fish?

No, no, this. What is this?

Whale?

No, it's a clock.

Clock. Ja.

Yes, good. And that's a dolphin.

- Was?

- Never mind.

That?

Frulein Schmidt?

Well?

What is that?

Oh, Christoph.

This is how I'd like to die!

Guten Morgen, Herr Hamilton.

Oh... good morning, Frulein Mayr.

Good morning.

Danke.

- Guten Morgen, Herr Isherwood.

- Guten Morgen, Frulein Thurau.

How sweet love must be.

Tonight, yes?

Jawohl.

Morning, darling.

I don't know half the people

who pass through this place.

But you've been here generations.

We must say hello.

Would you like coffee or tea?

I don't recommend the tea much.

I don't know what Frulein Thurau

does to it but it tastes like slops.

Tell me, Chris, what do you do?

- People tend not to call me Chris.

- I'm an actress.

Not at the moment. I'm singing in a nightclub.

But you must come and see me.

- What about tonight?

- Tonight's rather difficult.

Was that your boyfriend in the hall or a one-off?

I do find one-offs so much less of a hassle,

don't you, darling?

I've been here for centuries -

getting on three months, now.

I came here with a girlfriend

who assured me we'd get film work.

But then she was whisked away to Paris

by a fat banker, left me utterly stranded.

- How rotten!

- I don't care. I can stand on my own two feet.

But you don't mind being here alone?

One's always alone, ducky!

Surely you know that?

How old are you?

I'm practically antique.

I'm nearly 21.

I'm frightfully bright, you know.

I got myself expelled from school

by saying I was pregnant.

There was a terrible to-do

when they found out I wasn't.

I got myself sent down from Cambridge.

- I say!

- Flunked my tripos.

What a hoot!

I'm meeting a man in the Adlon for lunch.

He'll have to wait.

He has the most revolting underpants.

They're like camelhair, or something.

It's the sort of thing John the Baptist might wear.

Oh, Mummy would nearly die

if she knew what an old whore I am.

But one has to keep that horrid wolf

from the door, doesn't one?

Guten Tag.

Really!

How do you manage, darling?

I've started giving English lessons.

But actually, I'm a novelist.

A novelist? How perfectly marvellous.

- Are you published?

- My first novel, yes.

I haven't yet found a publisher for the second.

Has it sold simply thousands?

About 300, actually.

The one you write about me

shall sell by the million.

About you?

Of course, darling. Jean Ross.

Woman of mystery.

I'm not sure you're that mysterious.

Do you know,

I think we're going to get along famously.

You will write about me, won't you, darling?

Maybe.

One can't afford to wait, sweetie.

This whole thing is about to collapse

around our ears.

Carpe diem, darling.

Oh, damn. I suppose I better go

and meet the old goat.

He's promised to introduce me

to Max Reinhardt.

I don't believe him for a second.

Why are men always such beasts, darling?

Chris, could you be an angel

and lend me ten marks?

I... I haven't got a bean for the taxi.

She said his underpants were like camel hair.

The sort of thing John the Baptist might wear.

You're very quiet.

Touch of sunstroke.

You know, coming to Berlin

is the first honest thing I've done in my life.

And it's all thanks to you.

I doubt your mother sees it quite like that.

He's rather lovely, don't you think?

Caspar.

So, tell me, have you come to Berlin

to sample the culture?

I wouldn't quite say that.

In fact, I'm rather anti-culture.

- Like the Nazis?

- Oh, no.

Not in that way. It's just I'm rather put off

by culture worshippers.

I find them somewhat precious

and prone to gushing.

Do you find me somewhat precious

and prone to gushing?

No, I'm sure you're not.

But the danger is that one can use

culture worship as a substitute

for engaging with the messy business of living.

See, I find all this so very interesting.

You are a writer, but do not like culture.

It is my belief that culture raises us

from the beasts.

I wonder, Herr Landauer,

why you've employed me to teach you English.

You seem to speak it perfectly well.

One has to - how do you say? - Keep in practice.

Good.

What exactly is it that you do?

I am a shopkeeper.

A shopkeeper?

That is precisely what I am.

As in Landauer's Department Store?

Yes.

That's where I buy my socks.

Do you engage in politics, Herr Isherwood?

Actually, no. I'm not really much of a joiner.

I seem to be constitutionally incapable

of bringing myself to the required er...

...pitch of enthusiasm.

I have my sympathies, of course.

We can no longer afford the luxury of sympathy.

I rather suspect

I'm best equipped to observe and record.

That will not be an option.

When the Nazis come to power

we must take to the streets.

Not only Jews like myself,

but all of us, Herr Isherwood.

We must take to the streets and stay there,

even when the storm troopers start firing.

I'm not sure I'd hack it as a street fighter.

Forgive me, but are you not then as guilty

as your detested culture worshippers

for refusing to engage

with the whole messy business?

I think maybe...

we should all play to our strengths.

Perhaps we will practise the irregular verbs.

Hm?

You like that, huh?

It's like silk.

If you go to gymnasium, Christoph,

you'll be like me and Johnny Weissmuller.

I'm not so sure about that.

And then you'd do this, ja?

No. No!

Caspar!

Stop. Stop. Stop.

- You like, ja?

- Nein.

- Ja?

- Nein!

Ja. Ja.

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