Molokh Page #3

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You may roll.

Careful.

Thank you.

That way is good.

Thank you.

Panic-stricken Bolsheviks

are running away...

from the devastating

German army.

Dive!

0n the 11th of July,

the chief commander announced...

the enemy's defeat...

and the progress of troops

to the south of Woronesch...

200 miles along river Don.

0urtroops are following closely

the fleeing enemy.

0ur joy is to take arms

From England to the Black Sea

Always marching on

Freedom is our goal

0ur fhrer

Gives the orders

And we obey him

0ur fhrer

Gives the orders

And we obey him

Lisi!

It 's not for you!

Work!

I had to leave.

The news gave me

a terrible headache.

Have you anything?

Here.

Throw that away.

Okay, I'll keep it.

What?

Don't you think

others have problems?

Poor unhappy girl.

Unhappy. You have no idea

what it is to be forced to love.

A mediocre journalist,

a unsuccessful writer.

It was good to find

a genius to back him.

If it weren't for the family

and for the National Ideal...

we would have broken up

a long time ago.

To love a genius,

I can't explain it...

it 's like trying to love

the sun or the moon.

Look!

Real cinema!

Great images!

Garbage! I had never seen

such a waste of film!

- It makes my stomach turn.

- Exactly.

Unfinished work.

Completely incoherent!

The worst are not the tanks...

but the second half.

What a mess!

The writer either is

ignorant or incapable.

The cameraman is sloppy.

The director is self-absorbed.

The sound is not well recorded.

Why make a movie like that?

To stimulate them?

To say they have talent?

So they'll do better next time?

No! Regarding the style

of cinematography...

there can be no compromise.

We'd better suppress it altogether.

To Auschwitz with the whole crew.

Where?

Auschwitz?

Where is it?

Nowhere. It doesn't exist.

It doesn't exist?

Then why did she mention it?

You know how women

like to talk, my fhrer.

In spite of their charm...

We didn't hear any of that, right?

Exactly. An accurate point.

You've been warned, Klutzy.

Please, take your seats.

Where should I sit, my fhrer?

I'll sit close to the fhrer.

And where should I sit?

- Please, sit down.

- This is my place, Dr. Goebbels.

Magda, please.

- Please, doctor.

- Josef, sit close to me.

Be careful with it.

Careful.

Watch!

Allow me, comrade.

Nobody takes care of you.

So Ionely in here.

What do you mean?

Intellectually speaking.

Intellectually.

Intellectually?

Now may I eat as well?

Anyone wants something

that is unpalatable?

Tea, for example?

No, my fhrer, nobody wants it.

Can we change the subject?

I'm really starving.

In the provinces,

we're always hungry.

But in the city we're always

thinking about work.

Thank you.

If both these human needs...

could be turned into

a single one...

we'd have the harmonious man.

He'll come soon.

He is already between us.

Delicious.

Really good.

Yes...

he is here.

He is here. Very close.

Of course, he is near.

Maybe...

some connection

with racial features...

...my fhrer?

- No.

Have you ever wondered...

why there are so many

crazy Finnish people?

And why does the mustache

of Czechs grows downwards?

You're very brave, Eva.

I could devour you.

Did you find what

you were looking for?

Delicious... very good.

The Finnish are crazy...

because of the endless

winters and the aurora borealis.

All the northern folks

are crazy due to these factors.

Snow spreads melancholy.

About the Czechs...

they have those fallen mustaches...

because of their Mongol ancestors.

Germans are really lucky.

They are really blessed.

No aurora borealis.

No Mongols.

Intact.

What... was I saying?

You were talking about

the new breed.

Not only that.

I was also talking about the war.

Now don't you complain later on...

that the goals

were not well defined.

This I don't understand.

Neither does Martin,

but he won't admit it.

Me?

I understand everything!

Everything!

I didn't expect that from you.

To demand that a woman

be understanding?

No... no, my fhrer.

Neither the nation, nor the party,

nor the leaders...

expect that from a woman.

Understanding is

a strictly male attribute.

The more a woman is foolish,

the more she is expressive.

It 's no coincidence that

the wives of great men...

were all stupid.

Mozart 's wife, for instance,

a vulgar woman!

- Right?

- Yes.

Excuse me, gentlemen,

I'm exhausted.

I wish you all a good night.

Good night!

Our hostess is the embodiment

of simplicity and humility.

- So? Your wife isn't like that?

- What are you implying?

I think it 's time for me to retire.

We'll get up early tomorrow.

We have to sleep well.

Good night, everyone!

Good night!

Now, let us have some wine!

What are you doing here?

Do you need anything?

What do you want?

I know...

what you want.

Grandma Hitler, grandpa Hitler,

daddy Hitler, mommy Hitler...

daughter Hitler, son Hitler.

A cute little boy.

Everybody Hitler!

A whole Hitler family!

Everyone stinking, snoring

and burping on the same table!

Turning the house

into a pigsty.

They do nothing but torment you.

You want tranquillity?

A cosy home?

Comfortable seats?

Home-made soup? Matching pajamas?

Herb tea at night?

Church on Sundays?

Drink beer by a tree,

eating sausage?

Sausage! Bowels with lard

and spice! With cheese!

Think about that. Cheese!

No tranquillity!

No soup!

No pajamas!

The whip shall slash!

The whip to all the beasts!

I won't allow any rest!

I shall attack again

with full force!

Thirty years! Forty years!

Until the beast finally

becomes human!

Go on! Ahead!

No more waiting!

For the sky is at hand!

The sky is so close!

Unbelievable!

Chorister!

Chorister!

Wait up!

You'll see!

You'll pay for that!

Mommy Hitler, daddy Hitler!

I'm also Hitler myself!

Chorister!

I know that you're here

and that you can hear me.

How many times did I ask you

to write my parents?

They are so worried.

If you love me, if you'll leave me.

You don't even know their names.

Only "mommy and daddy".

Trivial? Maybe.

You've always feared what 's trivial.

That 's why you've become so harsh.

Do you know what my father

told me in 1929...

after we met on

the photo studio?

"This young man is a failure".

That 's what he said.

Big mistake.

You despised him.

Just like you've despised millions.

And even if you are a failure...

I love you.

With all your defects

and uselessness.

Please, remain "a failure".

I even wanted to

cheat on you twice.

I know it 's wrong.

I cursed myself.

I repented.

The first time,

with a photographer.

The second...

I'm so disgusted.

And another sin I've committed...

Once, I cut your telephone's line.

I think you lost a battle,

or something like that.

I'd like to tell you...

that I'm tired to hide my love.

I can't stand it anymore.

I must put an end to that.

Maybe it would be better

if you killed me.

Get down. The fhrer is leaving.

Hurry! Hurry!

Bastard!

Are you mad?

Please, we've arrived.

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