Daisy Diamond

We need more.

Get any money

from your parents for your birthday?

Give it to me.

- I need it.

- For what?

A train ticket to Copenhagen.

- Why are you going to Copenhagen?

- For a film audition.

You're too ugly to be an actress.

You're so stupid.

- Stop it.

- You look okay now. You look great.

- I'm going to be an actress.

- No one wants to look at you.

- Hand over the money. Hand it over.

- No.

Hand it over!

Relax.

- Do you love me? Do you?

- Yeah.

You're only saying that because

you're afraid I'll steal your money.

Don't you hide money from me.

Don't hide your f***ing money!

- Prove you love me.

- How?

Beg for it. Go on.

Beg for it.

I'm not on the pill. Lay off!

- Calm down.

- I told you to beg for it!

Okay! F*** me. F*** me.

Let go.

Let go.

Thank you!

We can't work in that racket.

I'm sorry.

There, there, Daisy.

Thank you, that was great.

You've got great energy,

many fine moments and a nice face.

But I'm afraid

we can't use you this time.

Next!

This just won't work, Daisy.

We have to help each other.

I don't know what else do to.

You promised to be quiet.

But you never listen.

We're running out of money.

Get it, Daisy?

If you'd let me do these auditions,

I could make some money for us.

But oh no, not you. You only care

about yourself and no one else.

You little monster.

Who are you?

I ought to sell you

and make a few bucks.

You cried when you came out of me.

You didn't want to be born.

I struggled for 23 hours

to get you out.

You knew you'd only cause me pain.

Think I don't feel like

crying and screaming too?

You're a child.

You haven't earned the right to show

the world all your discontent.

Just because I'm your mother, I don't

have to put up with your tantrums.

Think I don't get it?

You hate me

because I forced you into this world.

Is that what you want me to say?

So you get an excuse to think

I'm a terrible mother?

I may well be,

but you know what?

Even if you cry and scream

the rest of your life, -

- I'll still love you more

than anything else.

There, there.

Calm down.

Hush now.

It was at a party, right?

It was late and rowdy.

As the day was dawning,

someone said:

"You have almost everything

as a woman and as an artist."

"But you lack motherliness."

You thought it ludicrous and laughed.

But it haunted you later.

You grew concerned and finally

let your husband impregnate you.

You wanted to become a mother.

You became afraid

when there was no turning back.

Afraid of the responsibility.

Afraid of being tied down.

Afraid of losing the theater,

afraid of the pain, of dying.

Afraid of your swelling body.

But you keep playing the part.

The part of a happy,

young expectant mother.

Everyone said:
"She's so beautiful.

More beautiful than ever before."

You tried several times

to procure an abortion, but in vain.

When you realized it was irrevocable,

you hated the child.

You wished for it to be stillborn.

You wished

your baby would die at birth.

You wanted a stillborn child.

It was a long and complicated birth

that dragged out for several days.

They had to deliver the child

by forceps.

You regarded the disfigured child

with revulsion and whispered:

"Please die soon. Please die."

But he survived. The boy cried

day and night, and you hated him.

You were scared.

You were plagued by guilt.

Finally, relatives and a nanny

took care of the baby.

And you could rise

and return to the theater.

It won't do

if you don't remember your lines.

I'm sorry

but my daughter was sick all night.

Well, your daughter isn't auditioning

for the part, is she?

But your troubles weren't over.

The little boy developed

an intense love for his mother.

You tried to avoid it because

you felt you couldn't return it.

You kept trying

but it was awkward and cruel...

Stop! I want her to be cold as ice

but you're on the verge of tears.

You think he's repulsive

and you're afraid.

Go on.

It just won't work.

You do realize that, don't you?

Let's try the other girl.

- I can do it.

- Thank you! Next.

- Please consider me for the part.

- We'll let you know.

- I want to know now.

- Didn't you hear me? Thank you!

We'll send you a letter. Next!

You might as well leave.

I got the part.

Didn't you hear me? Go away.

She's found the one she wants.

Come along.

Karl-Henrik and I rented

a cottage by the sea.

Karl-Henrik and I rented

a cottage by the sea.

It was in June and we had

the place all to ourselves.

One day he went to town

and I went to the beach on my own.

It was a hot, sunny day.

Another girl was there.

She lived on a nearby island -

- but had paddled over to our beach

because it was more undisturbed.

We lay there side by side

completely naked in the sun.

We dozed off and woke up

and just lay there.

We wore these cheap straw hats.

Mine had a blue band.

I lay there peering out

from under the hat.

- Taking in the scenery...

- Shut up!

Why aren't you crying now? You

only do it to ruin everything for me.

You ruin it for everyone else, too.

They wanted to watch the film

but you ruined it.

They thought:
"What

an impossible brat." But you're not.

You're not impossible.

But all you can do is cry.

You can't even tell me

what you're upset about.

What are you so upset about?

Is it me?

Am I the one who upsets you so?

Look.

That's you. See?

That's you and me.

Little Daisy.

Give Mommy a smile.

Look, Daisy. You and me.

My beautiful little Daisy.

Remember when we went

to the woods? Yes, you do.

We laid down in the grass by the lake

and you reached for a flower.

It was a daisy.

Yes, you reached out like that.

And I took your little hand in mine.

You grabbed my finger

and held it tight.

And you smiled. That was

the first time I saw you smile.

Remember?

Yes, you do.

You were awfully beautiful.

Look at my belly.

All saggy.

And my breasts are droopy

like two empty bags.

And it's all your fault.

Happy now?

No one else wants Mommy.

You've got me all to yourself.

I'm sorry.

That was a dumb thing to say.

Please don't cry.

Please, Daisy.

Don't cry anymore.

I can't stand any more of it.

If you really love me,

you'll stop crying right now.

Now!

Good God!

I can't do anything with you.

All you can do is scream.

That's enough. Be quiet.

Stop screaming

and everything will be all right.

Where have you been?

Your letters didn't reveal much.

- Your sister's right. You're a mess.

- Look at yourself. You're a loser.

So you come running back to Daddy.

Daddy's little pet, huh?

Do you want to know a secret?

I'm really quite proud of you.

You and I don't put on a show.

We're true to ourselves

and always have been,

I remember you in your crib,

new-born.

I put my finger

into your little hand -

- and you grabbed it

and held it tight.

And I said to myself:

"That's my girl!"

- Daddy...

- She's got willpower.

The others' hands were like Jell-o.

But not yours.

- I didn't become an actress.

- No, I guessed you'd failed.

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