George! So glad you like it.
Rothman?
Who is this Rothman?
Max Rothman.
Isn't his father in...
in shoes?
Think so.
Shoes or frocks...
Shoes, frocks or stocks.
The Duke of Westminster used to own a spaniel called "Jew, "
except when his Rothschild banker came over,
then they called him "Joe. "
Ooooh, champagne!
Max!
Why are you wasting this divine tipple on these swine?
Insecurity, I suppose.
Yeah, well, insecurity is the mother of an overdraft.
Hello!
Oooh. George Grosz.
I hear the sound of new money.
I'm for sale.
I might pay for this evening yet.
Come!
Take care of Grosz for me, will you, okay?
George.
George!
A moment.
Mr. Epp.
Oh...
Mrs. Epp.
I think Max would like a quick word with you.
George, do you want a drink?
Hello, hello.
So nice to see you.
Hello. I have a Monet downstairs.
Monet? Why?
Well, I thought this might be a tad too modern for you.
Are you questioning my modernity?
God, no, no.
I hate all those water lilies.
It always reminds me of a gardening catalogue.
Still, maybe you'd like to see it? Are you sure? I'll go down and get it.
I'll take the Ernst!
And who is this funny fellow who looks like a butcher?
Grosz, George Grosz.
I'll take two of him.
Excellent.
Didn't know you had a Monet.
I don't.
How are you?
Don't spiel me.
Where's your wife?
Waiting for her entrance, I suppose.
And where's that leave me?
Talented, with options.
I'm tired of options.
You're too young to be tired of options.
I'd really love to see you again.
Tell me, Max... where's the future in it?
The future?
No...
I've seen the future.
Believe me, it came straight at us. There's no future in the future.
So you might as well...
Nina... Mon amour.
Nice to see you.
Hello, darling.
How'd it go?
Hmmm, I fell out of every turn, but they seemed to like it.
Well, that's what matters. That's what counts.
It's going well?
Who knows...
Do you know what you look like?
Like your wife, I hope.
No.
Like a woman defying gravity.
That's what we do, us ladies.
I left my cigarettes at the theatre.
Poppi...
The champagne...
Poppi...
There's one more case on the sidewalk,
and these are on loan.
I'll pay you back with interest.
The 16th?
Yeah, the list...
And you?
9th...
Hussars.
Yeah, cavalry.
Where do you want it?
Thank you.
Inside the door.
Thank you, Corporal.
Is this your building?
Is this some sort of club?
I sell art.
In here?
Uh-huh.
Is that a portfolio?
Yeah...
Fork it over, Corporal, let's take a look.
What's your market, then?
Mostly modern stuff.
Oh, modern.
Like, uh, next time I have diarrhoea,
I'll take a shit on a canvas
and bring it 'round to you, huh?
You could do worse.
I certainly wouldn't reject it out of hand,
I'm open to everything.
Would you like a cigarette?
They give you cancer of the lung.
Are you a doctor?
Hullo, darling.
Ah, Liselore von Peltz, this is Corporal...
Hitler...
Adolf Hitler
Hello.
Thank you for coming.
Is she your wife?
My wife's inside.
You're a funny one.
Come in...
Have a glass of champagne.
I don't drink.
That's original.
Yes, well...
best be on my way.
Thanks again for...
the, ah, hand.
The 16th?
We were together at Ypres.
Yes, we were.
Perhaps only a few kilometres apart.
I did some modern stuff...
in the trenches.
That I would very much like to see.
You know where to find me.
Max Rothman.
Das eisern werk.
How do you like your fish, Daddy?
Mmmm... Lovely.
That was delicious.
Are you finished? You've hardly touched it.
I don't know how you stay so thin?
She has a parasite.
I don't, thank God.
Yes, yes, but tell her about that girl in the company.
Oh, Esther...
Swallowed a tapeworm.
On purpose.
A Jewish girl did this?
Isn't that fabulous?
Why?
To lose weight, Mammi.
I don't think this is dinner-table conversation.
Yes, but thank God it's lunch and we're all grown up.
I mean, as a medical man, don't you find that fascinating?
Hmmm? I mean, here is a girl who has a certain...
a certain aesthetic standard which she adheres herself to,
and her commitment...
I don't think this is an appropriate conversation.
I know, I know, it certainly isn't.
But, but wouldn't the condition be chronic?
I mean if it took, that is, Nin?
Did it?
All right,
let's talk about the weather, literally.
Have you been outside today?
Isn't it gorgeous?
I think it's what the English call an Indian summer.
But it's November.
I don't think Max is saying that it isn't, Dad.
Isn't that what they call the last days
of October... November... Indian summer?
No, no, that's autumn; what they call 'fall. '
I'm going for a stroll.
He hasn't been able to sit still since he came back.
Balls!
He was already a neuropath before the war.
Do you know what Ferdi told me yesterday?
Doctors are mostly judged by their hands.
Fucking bourgeois prick!
Our commander lost half the battalion
because he had a 'Von' before his name.
Wait, wait. So you're saying the Russians are right?
I'm just sayin' maybe we shouldn't be so quick
to judge them, maybe they're on to something.
Yeah, they're onto something all right...
They never should've killed the tsar.
Really?
Why?
Because the tsar was such a good guy?
Hey, hey...
What about those kids, did they deserve a bullet?
And that little boy...
You wanna make stew, you gotta chop meat.
And what kind of stew is that, Soldier?
Speak up.
Hello, hello.
No, no, no, don't get up.
A little taste for everyone.
Nothing's wrong with that, Soldier.
Nothing at all.
But let's take a closer look at these stew chefs.
Marx... Jew.
Lenin...
Mongrel Jew.
Trotsky...
Jew from A to Z.
Yeah, so?
Did you ever know a Jew to do anything for anybody else?
'Cept raise your rent.
What do you think, Corporal?
I don't believe in anti-Semitism.
Not in emotive anti-Semitism, anyway.
What the hell does that mean?
It means I don't believe that anti-Semitism
should be based on emotions,
which just leads to pogrom and anarchy,
but rather on the facts.
I'm not sure I quite understand your point, Corporal.
My point is, Captain,
that the Semitic question
is far too important to be left to the individual.
It ought to be in the domain of the government,
like public health or... sewage.
I think you look handsome.
What's the price on this?
I'm not going to bite.
Seven marks for the suit, two marks for the shirt...
and the tie...
Well, we'll call it an even ten.
What made you put a gallery in an ironworks?
Well, you know what they used to make here, don't you?
Locomotives.
Yes... And now they're recovering the iron and steel
and selling it as scrap.
Beating swords into plough shares?
That wouldn't be a bad lead.
No, no... That's too soft, that's too pacifistic.
Not subversive enough.
Subversive?
Yes, subversive.
I mean, Jesus God,
what a giant piece of kitsch theatre this last war was.
It was all fought on rail and yet the Kaiser went on horse,
surrounded by the princes with the regiments and the banners
snapping in the breeze like it was Agincourt.
But it wasn't Agincourt, was it?
- Yeah... but you're an ex-cavalry man. - So I know exactly of which I speak.
And from now on we must make art with the same unsentimentality,
the same principles, that we would the manufacture of bayonets.
Bayonets?
Yes, or maybe washbins. Maybe washbins would work.
No, no, no... I think we'll stick with bayonets.
Bayonets is a lot sharper.
Yes, it is. Yes.
Mind if we take a look around?
Be my guest.
Ah, Corporal Hilter.
Hit-ler.
Not living in the barracks anymore?
It's not like there's a lot of cheap housing
around for vets, is there?
No, I suppose there isn't.
Can I offer you some coffee?
Um, no, never touch it.
No caffeine, no alcohol, no nicotine, no meat...
You're an ascetic.
Not at all, I'm a man of the people.
I see you've brought your goods.
Don't expect anything abstract.
I'm a great believer in Schopenhauer's dictum that art
should proclaim, 'Yes, by God, this is how it really is. '
But life can be quite abstract at times,
wouldn't you agree?
How do you mean?
Well, sometimes "life, " as you say,
won't be captured by the forms and lines
of traditional representation, especially not these days.
I disagree completely.
Art should only ever reflect the eternal values
and the natural laws, especially these days.
But aren't these eternal values
and natural laws in flux these days?
Aren't they meant to be shrinking and expanding?
What are you, some kind of intellectual wet fart, Rothman?
The eternal values are harmonious proportions,
nobility and dignity, and the continuation of the cultural evolution...
Where each generation stands upon the shoulders of the next
and improves the work of the last.
But this is...
ten... no, a hundred steps backwards.
This is the undoing of the previous generations.
This is filth!
This is blood poisoning!
Are you a friend of Marinetti's?
Is that what this is about?
Yes?
Some sort of mad reverse futurist?
Futurists?
Yes, the Italians.
They experienced the war 'pictorially. '
Like you, I'm hoping.
Some of the Italians fought well.
He served, right?
Grosz?
Yes, he did. Genadier guards, I think.
Bolshie, huh?
No, not really, just pissed off.
Ah, yeah?
What's he pissed off about?
He thinks people should have the right to strike.
And you, Rothman, are you pissed off?
About the right to strike?
No, about your arm. I mean,
you were going to be a painter, right?
You're a funny one.
Well?
I think it's good, but I think you could go even deeper.
Deeper...
what do mean, deeper?
I mean it's good.
But I sense you're just scratching at the surface.
When I look at this work, I see a really pretty solid technique,
but what I'm missing is an authentic voice.
One gets the feeling that you're holding something back.
And for the work to really leap forward,
to really take the next step...
I keep going back to this notion of an authentic voice.
What I mean to say is, I was there, and you were there,
and I know what it looked like. But what did it feel like?
I mean, that's what we want to know, isn't it?
Does any of what I'm saying resonate?
I suppose what I'm trying to say is you have to go as deep
as you possibly can and then you have to gather yourself
and say 'Okay, I just broke the surface... deeper still. '
You know, Rothman...
when I came back from this war,
I came back to nothing.
Really nothing.
No homeland, no home, no parents,
no family, no fiance, no profession,
no job, no food,
no closet full of old hockey sticks and tennis rackets.
Not even an address.
All I have in this world is the conviction
that I am a great artist and a master builder.
And you just stole from that...
from the one thing that's mine.
A rich boy like you.
So if art as an object is dead,
why is everything so expensive?
Otherwise nobody would buy it.
Bolshie bastard!
Communist! Comrade Communist.
Bastard!
Fucking Bolshie.
Commie.
Looks like Corporal Hitler had a difficult time of it in the big city.
Keeping warm, Corporal?
Friend of yours?
It's a study for a work called "The Cultural Consumptive. "
Yeah, I know the type.
Just clever enough to be unhappy.
Well, uh, you're an interesting man, Corporal...
Artists aren't usually known for their nerve.
You were awarded the Iron Cross, first class, weren't you?
Would you like to learn how to speak in public?
We're offering a course to certain people.
And what kind of course?
It's a course in a new kind of science.
It is called propaganda.
The course consists of--
Yes, yes, I know about propaganda.
Well, it also consists of philosophy, history, economics...
Look, I'm going to be frank with you, Corporal,
we're in trouble.
Germany's balanced on a razor's edge.
Will she fall to the left, or to the right?
I think that depends largely on the army, Sir.
You strike me as an unusually perceptive man, Corporal.
May we count on you?
Of course, the army will pay for your expenses.
Hmmm?
Lads, may I present for your edification,
Herr von Lieberfelt... and his troupe.
Sorry - Ritter von Lieberfelt.
Men, good evening.
I'm here to present you with a challenge.
Have you ever noticed that the Jews only fuck each other?
Why?
Because they guard the purity of their blood.
So if we guard the purity of our blood the way they guard
the purity of their blood, we see the world as it really is.
Our divine ancestors, the Aryans,
came to earth from outer space...
forged in a matrix of ice and war,
Ar becames the first divine artist warrior.
But then, the Aryan was led into temptation
by soft, swarthy people from bountiful lands.
Shhh...
And Ar's blood is polluted
and Ar grows weak
and Ar becomes the slave of the Jews.
Grail knights!!
Yes, because you are grail knights!
If we guard the purity of our blood,
we have it in our power to again straddle the earth like supermen.
I eat a little grilled fish, no meat -- no red meat --
lots of fruit, lots of green vegetables and cheese.
How are you sleeping?
Oh, six hours a night.
Ahhh... That's not enough...
It's too much.
I sleep too much.
No stimulants.
I'm off coffee.
Everything has to be bio now.
Steamed vegetables.
He has a new doctor.
Why doesn't he come see me?
You don't charge enough.
I've lost fifteen pounds.
I'm in and out of the tailor all the time.
I don't charge enough?!
What does she mean I don't charge enough?!
Hullo, it's Hamlet.
Hello, all.
Doctor, Anna.
Mother, may I say you look very well?
You owe me two cases... No, you owe me three cases of champagne...
I'll put them in the car for you before you leave.
Do you know the difference between a Jewish mother and a rottweiler?
Yes.
- Pappi, you've lost weight. - You noticed?
Eventually the rottweiler lets go.
Well, we have coffee, we have cake, we have sherry...
we have indigestion just looking at it.
He doesn't eat.
He has my delicate system.
He should come and see me.
- Hey, Sis. - Hello.
Excellent, you've brought the brood.
Happy birthday to you...
Happy birthday, dear Paulie...
Happy birthday to you.
Yeah!
Plates, please!
Would you like some cake?
Ja.
Thank you for your plate.
Such a lovely boy.
As I was saying, Max, it's a bubble,
a chimera. Everybody and his mother wants to be a speculator
these days.
And nobody knows what they're doing.
Never been in it in my life. You know that. Not productive.
All anybody wants to talk about today is the market.
Such a bore...
How's your sentimental life?
Torrid. Yours?
Arid...
but sunny.
And how is your sentimental life?
Nina, that's not a penis, is it?
I think she might be dreaming of one.
Ahhh... You have much more fun in your day than we had in mine.
Pastry, please.
Men, I have terrible news.
Our government, if you can call this group of Jews,
homosexuals and draft dodgers a government,
has accepted a peace in Versailles.
A peace so unjust, it will surely lead to another war...
thank God.
Thank God because an army at peace is like a whore at mass...
no bloody good to anyone.
So men, I want you on the street today,
and here's the message: "Stabbed in the back. "
By who, Sir?
- Who said that? - Me.
Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.
What matters is that Germany is absolved from having lost the war
and prepared to wage the next one.
Fellow loses a game he doesn't want to play anymore.
Well, you tell him he lost because someone else cheated.
Well, then you have to hold him back from picking up the cards again.
Just remember, the army is the only vital element of our society.
War is vitality.
War is the hygiene of the world.
Yes?
The treaty is unfair!
Germany for the Germans!
What are they saying?
Versailles.
Take back our land!
They're saying Versailles.
Here are the terms of the treaty of Versailles.
Germany is to cede Alsace Lorraine to France...
What?
Upper Silesia and West Prussia to Poland...
Poland?
The army will be reduced to one-hundred-thousand men.
France will occupy the Rhineland for the next fifteen years
and Germany will assume a war debt of twenty-million gold marks.
There aren't twenty-million marks in this entire country.
Furthermore, Germany is to sign a so-called war guilt clause
in which she assumes sole responsibility for the war.
I'm ashamed to be German today.
- Hey. - Hey.
There's a meeting down the street.
I didn't serve. I just played the market,
I lost my arm in the crash.
Germany is to cede Alsace Lorraine to France,
This is disgusting!
We are being stabbed in the back!
Just because you take it in the ass.
... stabbed in the back...
This guy is full of shit.
He works for the army, he's a provocateur.
And look at his muscle...
Bastards, fucking bastards!
Let him be, boys, let him be...
A prov... ca...
A provo... ca?
That's a French word, isn't it?
No wonder I can't get my tongue around it.
You ever notice with chaps like this that their French is really good?
So's their Russian.
Better than their German, actually.
Well, I'll tell you who I am, because I've got nothing to hide.
I'm a little man...
Four years in the trenches.
Don't speak French, don't know the Latin...
Never made it past corporal.
Guess that's because I didn't have a 'Von' before my name.
You might say I'm the unknown soldier.
Just like you.
What do you think?
I think he's a "nothing, " Sir.
He's got a big mouth.
Yes, you're right, he's a "nothing. "
Perhaps that's his secret, perhaps it's the age of the nothing.
Lots of lads got it worse.
Now I'm back, looking for a job.
Can't find one, though.
Paid ten marks for a suit.
You paid too much.
That's what I said to the Jew who sold it to me.
I can see where this is going.
Nothing new, nothing new...
Germany's greatest enemy lives within.
Herr Rothman.
Herr Rothman, I'm... I'm honoured.
I happened to be in the neighborhood, so...
I'm sorry I left so... abruptly the other day.
Well, you know what they say in Spain, don't you?
No, I don't.
It's easy to fight the bull from the barrerra.
Bullfighting is completely immoral.
It's vile and disgusting!!!
No, no... It means it's easier to be a critic than an artist.
So, ah, what did you think of my speech?
Let's just say if you were to put the same amount of energy
into your art as you do your speaking,
you may have something going.
I best be on my way.
Hitler, come on, I'll buy you a glass of lemonade.
Come on.
Where'd you get the sunglasses?
Progg and Fromm...
Try 'em.
Chic, very chic, Rothman.
Can I get another coffee, please? Strong.
Yes, Sir, I'll get it.
So you're an anti-Semite?
On the contrary, I admire the Jews.
Really?
Yes, they're very intelligent people.
Well, there are intelligent ones and not so intelligent ones,
- don't you think? - No, no, they're all intelligent
because they guard the purity of their blood.
What?
The... Purity... Of... The... Blood.
Because the secret of the Jews lies in their pure Jewish blood.
That's why they're the mightiest counterpart to the Aryan race.
What's the secret?
Is your father Jewish?
- Yes, he is. - Mother?
Why not ask whether she's a German?
Is that not a far more relevant question?
Mensch! Of course your mom's Jewish.
You're an awfully hard man to like, Hitler,
but I'm going to try.
Because if I've learned anything over the past four years
it's that we all shit the same,
scream the same and die the same.
There's no need for vulgarity, Rothman.
I know where you've been.
And God knows we've all been turned into assholes there.
Now, listen to me well.
You may not think you're an anti-Semite,
but in fact you are.
I'm not.
But in this, as in all things, there's a reason.
Your own hero, Nietzche,
said anti-Semitism is the ideology of those who feel cheated.
How do you know Nietzche's my hero?
Because you've obviously skimmed his ideas.
Well, I don't feel cheated.
Excellent. Then stop acting like it.
Are you going to smoke another cigarette? You just put one out.
Exactly. Now where is my instinct,
my secret instinct for self-preservation, I ask you?
I've heard these theories all my life.
Blood science, eugenics, it's rubbish,
it's complete nonsense, it's kitsch.
Put it out of your mind.
It's not modern, it's not scientific and it will hold you back as an artist.
Speaking of which, how's your work coming along?
And why are you making those appalling speeches for the army?
Oh, I'm just keeping my hand in it.
Keeping your hand in what?
The army is paying my expenses.
Ah, so you don't actually believe that rubbish.
Don't tell me you're happy with "the peace. "
- Hello, Max. - Hello, Esther.
How are you, Sweetheart?
I think "the peace" is a travesty.
But I don't think I can be bothered to pick up the German banner
from the mud with my left arm.
I gave at the office, you know.
Yes, yes, yes, you did.
I'm thinking about writing a book of politics, you know.
You're a man of many talents.
Where do you find time to paint?
Mensch, use your head!
I'm still in the army.
I'm folding laundry... I'm cleaning out the shithouses!
Painting costs money! I don't have a pot to piss in!
Here's what I'd like to do.
I'd like to take some of your work on consignment.
Here's an advance against your future sales.
Spend it any way you like.
Find yourself a nice girl, get drunk.
Get out of politics.
Rothman, you...
you, you've saved my life.
You know, maybe you're right.
Maybe I've yet to find my authentic voice.
Maybe I should get more modern.
You know, if I'm to be completely honest with myself,
I've, well, I've always admired some of the ideas behind cubism.
Seems to me you have a great affinity for ideas.
Is that some... some clever way of saying I have poor technique?
Try not to be one of these people who finds a slight in any compliment.
I imagine it would be just altogether too bourgeois
to turn on the heat.
On top of me.
Below me.
Inside of me.
I'm always by your side.
I have to go.
Half man, half doll.
Every woman's dream.
Bills, bills, bills, Fraulein.
Bills are so violent.
Sorry. Ah... I couldn't stop him.
Ah, there you are Rothman.
Slept in late, did you?
What are you doing?
What do you mean, what am I doing?
You told me I had a show.
A show? A show?!
I told you I would take some of your work on consignment.
The way I understand that term is,
I keep some of your work informally, "in trust, " as it were.
And, if I can move it, I move it.
How are you going to "move it" if it's not up?
Am I in your studio looking over your shoulder?
No.
So don't teach your grandmother how to suck eggs.
So you're not actually going to show the work.
No. And I will tell you why.
"New works by Arp, Ernst, and Grosz at Das eisen werks
November 15th to December 15th. "
So after December 15th.
Can we take it one step at a time?
Listen, Rothman, I've lost four years!
Yes, we all lost four years. Some of us a little more.
Do you want a show?
I'd kill for you if you gave me a show.
Don't kill for me, please.
Just do what you do.
Be anxious, be nervous,
tell me you're the unknown soldier come back to haunt us...
with your brush, Hitler, with your brush.
Can you do that? 'Cause that's what you've got to do...
You've got to take all this pent-up stuff that you're quivering with
and you've got to hurl it onto the canvas.
It doesn't have to be good and it doesn't have to be beautiful,
it just has to be true.
And even if it's a lie, make it an interesting lie,
and I'll put it up... I swear.
You do think I'm talented, don't you?
I think there's definitely something rustling behind your curtain, yes.
Goodbye.
There are times...
I have these terrible doubts.
Paint them!
Paint your doubts, really!
Well? Well?
One morning, I wish you'd just say, 'Good morning, Rothman,
how did you pass the night? The lovely Mrs. Rothman?
Your children in good health, I trust?'
You're such a bourgeois, Rothman.
- Any news? - Yes, I'm meeting an American dentist.
- A big collector. - Mensch!! That's good, isn't it?
Listen to me. If I see you anywhere near that building,
I will personally set fire to your entire life's work.
Speaking of which, when am I going to see something new?!
Soon. Soon.
I need new things, Hitler. I'm very motivated by newness.
Newness really does it for me. You understand?
Ah, there's Dr. and Mrs. Levi. Hello!
Ah, Levi, uh? Well, you'll make the sale for sure, huh?
What can one say about Paul Klee
that hasn't been said a hundred times before?
And on the other end of the spectrum,
there's a young artist I've discovered recently named Hitler.
Less aggressively modern, perhaps,
but a real example of what I call 'Krieg Kunst. '
- War art? - Precisely, Doctor, precisely.
Not as... mannered, as tutored as, say... Max Ernst,
but a very authentic voice of the trenches.
The voice of the Everyman, the voice of the unknown soldier.
And as a gesture of solidarity with Soviet constructivism,
I would ask only five marks for these pieces.
Hard to go wrong for five marks.
What do you think, Darling?
They bought the Ernst!
Oh my God...
I'm going to die in some doorway like a... dog in the street.
- A complete unknown! - Nonsense.
I'm, I'm thirty...
I'm thirty!
Could... could you just put that out, please?!
No. Fuck you! I'm in my own place.
Alright. You want the truth? I'll tell you the truth!
You're a bit lazy, Hitler.
A chap like Ernst,
up at the crack of dawn, working.
This Ernst, what's he look like?
He's rather good looking.
Rather like me, uh?
Hm-huh.
Eyes?
Light.
Hello.
Yes, but could you paint that?
Of course I-- I could, I...
The man has... no technique.
Technique is not what makes the painting interesting.
What makes the painting compelling is what Max Ernst reveals,
you could almost say he admits, confesses,
about himself.
Could you do that?
Could you be so voluptuous with yourself?
Hmm?
I think so.
Listen, the train is leaving the station, Hitler.
One question remains:
Why aren't you on board?
I don't know.
I'm in your hands, Rothman.
Hand...
I've been going to seances, you know.
Really? That sounds progressive.
Yes it is.
It's most instructive to learn how the old German gods
were usurped by the young God of Israel,
the God of guilt, the projection of slaves.
Sounds like lunch at my house.
Always the joker, huh?
Why are we here, Rothman?
What has this got to do with modern art?
Nothing, I just like it here.
I thought you were going to teach me about modern art, Rothman.
I already know how to loaf.
It's inhuman what they're doing to these birds.
It's inhuman.
Why don't you set them free?
That'd be a great art project, Hitler.
We'd have Chinese nightingales in the park for years to come.
They'd sing in the snow...
and people would come for miles around
and they would be known as Hitler's Nightingales.
Are you on the spike, Rothman?
Is that what's wrong with you?
Bloody hell!
Damn it!
Hullo, midgets.
What are you doing, Dad?
Dad said a bad word.
Aha.
You are a very clever girl, Ada, love of my life.
You're right.
Because that's exactly what dad has been thinking about: words.
Good words...
and bad words, because...
words are magic.
Sometimes I think the whole world is strung together by words.
Victory!
Pappi?
Yes, young man?
In the world upside down, what would we be doing now?
In the world upside down, that's easy, we'd be having breakfast.
And what would we have for breakfast?
In the world upside down?
Let's see.
For breakfast we'd have grilled sole, green beans,
new potatoes, plum pudding for dessert...
Yum!
And in the world upside down, right now
I would say, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, Pauli.
I loathe you beyond reason, " wouldn't I?
Now go to sleep...
and tomorrow we'll fly around the sun together.
Hello, Darling.
Hi, Sweetheart.
George Grosz... Adolf Hitler.
My wife, Nina.
You...
Nice guy...
Oh, he's a futurist...
Really, what's his name?
Hitler.
- Never heard of him. - You will.
Are you ready?
- Oh, Hitler. - Yes.
- Are you a painter? - Yes. Yes, I'm an artist.
You are a friend of my husband's?
Of sorts.
In August 1914, I volunteered for the army and was accepted
to my father's old regiment, the Light Hussars.
I used to think we rode into the war on horseback,
but now I realize that, in fact, we rode into the war on words.
Yes, my friend, words.
If the high command had used nails to hammer our feet to the mud,
I think we would have found a pair of pliers,
passed them down the line, and made a break for it.
But the words, the words kept us rooted to the ground.
Now these are magical words, used in mass hypnosis.
And if you would like millions of young men to give up their lives
for your cause, you must first learn these words.
Repeat after me.
The enemy... is the foe or the host.
The enemy is the foe or the host.
Danger... is peril.
Danger is peril.
To be brave is to be gallant.
The dead...
Oh, yes, the dead.
They are not dead.
They are the fallen.
One's chest is...
one's breast.
To move quickly is to be swift.
A soldier is...
... a warrior.
War is strife.
Actions are deeds.
To die is to perish.
To sleep is to slumber.
The sky are the heavens.
Blood... elan vitale.
And arms and legs...
are noble limbs.
Hey, Soldier.
Thank you.
Disgusting!
Revolting!
That was a miscalculation of rare magnitude,
wouldn't you say?
You're their fuckin' dealer, Max.
They want you to sell their paintings and make 'em rich,
not scare the fucking shit out of 'em,
Darling, that wasn't Paulie's cowboy hat, was it?
What a masquerade he puts on.
Hussar this, father's regiment that.
As German as you or I. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth,
finagling himself, throwing his money around,
finding himself a German whore,
and of course all the while staying married in the faith.
Always working on the inside from the outside.
Why, the patient looks perfectly healthy.
But then you look at the turd, but really look at it,
and then you see the worms crawling around.
There weren't any of the men there, were there?
No, no. Only artists and the usual degenerates.
Well... I'm sure they adored it...
They hated it!
They stood there like stiffs. It went completely over their head.
This Rothman...
This, this Rothman...
Rothman made the whole war look small and pointless,
ridiculous, absurd.
Don't despair, junger, you've got your own talent.
You just have to let it out.
Let it out.
The general collective unconscious is essentially feminine.
- It takes a strong, masculine type. - Hello.
Rothman.
Well, what did you think?
The other night.
My disaster. Did it remind you of Ypres?
Or was it just rubbish?
Yes, what did you think?
It didn't remind me of Ypres.
No?
What did it remind you of, if anything?
It reminded me, perhaps...
perhaps, of a particularly disgusting and depraved dream of Ypres.
As opposed to the happy, glorious one.
Exactly.
Which your piece implies is ipso facto impossible.
Listen to them, farting higher than their...
their asshole.
What was that you said, Erich?
I said...
Yes, I know what you said.
My question was rhe... to... ri... cal.
It's a difficult word, isn't it, Erich?
Shall I ask you to spell it?
Well, this was fun.
But duty calls and I must mind the store;
can't give up the day job.
We forgive you for a lot, don't we?
Forgive and forget,
turn the other way where others wouldn't, nicht?
Nicht, Erich?
Nicht?
My God, what Philistines you all are!
Rothman.
So, how's my career going?
Slow...
The whole market's slow right now.
Who are those gentlemen?
Guttersnipes.
Don't seem very good company.
I'm flirting with politics again...
It's a party that promotes the interests of the veteran,
but sometimes you have to build a base from the base.
Do you?
Well, I'll just have to take your word for that.
Hey, listen.
Do you want to meet some girls?
Girls?
Yes, Hitler, girls.
You know, those brilliant creatures who make you feel artistic
without doing a stitch of work.
Come on.
- Afternoon. - Afternoon.
So there were parts of it you liked?
I mean, I know you're more of a patriot than I am.
Where'd you come up with the idea of the toys?
My son.
You should have children. They give you good ideas.
Ever consider the future, Hitler?
The future?
I think all my work's based on the future.
Yes, and what do you see?
Do you see fame, money, beautiful lovers?
- I see myself teaching. - Hmm.
And you, Rothman? How do you see the future?
Look inside my pocket.
"Would you die for the mother-in-law land?"
You're a menace, Rothman.
I got another one for you:
"War is the instrument with which the happy... "
No, no... Reverse that. "War is the instrument
by which the unhappy turn the happy into themselves".
Mensch, don't you know that genius and happiness go together
about as well as cheese and chalk?
Cheese and chalk! Paint that!
No, I disagree.
You know that all great cultures die from the same cause...
blood poisoning.
Don't you know that all great,
truly great art comes from the struggle...
the titanic, the epic, the eternal struggle.
Are you saying all art should be political?
No, no, no, dear girl, I...
I'm simply speaking of the pure blood mixture,
everything depends on blood mixture
and the resultant drops in racial levels.
Hitler's very concerned with blood.
We, we, we... think, we hope it's a metaphor.
He's a futurist. Doesn't he sort of remind you of Marinetti?
No, no.
Well, he does a bit.
Max, what are you doing with this man?
He's the most horrible creature I've ever seen.
He doesn't have any friends.
Of course he doesn't have any friends, he doesn't listen.
And this thing about blood.
He had a bad war.
No, Darling, you had a bad war. I'm sure he had a fine war.
What do you feel guilty about, Max?
I don't feel guilty, I think guilt is a second-rate emotion.
On the other hand, when I came back from the war,
I came back to my family and my bank account and my parents
and the best care, and he came back to nothing, but really nothing.
So clearly you do feel guilty.
No, but I acknowledge the fact that I don't know
what it's like to come back to nothing.
Oh, Darling, you're wrong.
You've came back to nothing and every day,
I see you turn that into something so beautiful.
I told him the other day that his insane fucking ideas
were holding him back as an artist.
And he tries, he really does... sometimes.
Until tonight, of course, but that's because
he feels insecure being around you two lovely ladies.
Just remember, Max, Florence Nightingale died of syphilis.
And that means what?
Don't get too close to your charity cases.
You've got chocolate all over your mouth.
Thank you. That was very nice of you.
I just want to know what he has in that briefcase.
It's the second time he went to the loo.
He just left.
Fucking bitches.
Forget about it, Rothman.
May I?
Ah, the artist at home.
Well, what an artist you are.
What a vision... so clear, such focus.
I almost feel guilty asking you this because I don't want
to take you away from your work. But for a while now,
we've been taking an interest in a small political party.
It has five or six hundred members.
It's called the National Socialist Workers Party.
Hnnh...
Don't let the name fool you. They're as socialist as you and me.
We had a speaker scheduled for them,
but the fellow's come down with a cold, so...
so we were wondering if you might be persuaded to say a few words.
But, of course...
I understand if the muses are...
David! What do you think of the future?
I think it's expensive.
Max...
- How are you? - How are you?
- Fine. You look fine. - Thank you.
Is that a... a fur bath?
Yes. Yes, it is. Yes, it is.
Gerta's in good health, I trust?
Yeah, she's fine, she's fine.
So am I, uh, in the soup, as they say?
No, no, no...
The soup's good, you're in the shit.
Oh, that's nice.
Max, this is serious.
I know you're just careless, but the tax people
could easily take a different position.
Hmmm.
What do you suggest?
I suggest we write them a check right away
and we plead forgetfulness and artistic license.
I can't. I'm skint. I just gave George an advance.
You promised you were going to run this as a business.
Could you borrow from your father?
No, I don't want to bother him.
Arrange for another loan against das eisern werk.
It's not so simple.
The boys at the bank are going to want to know what it's for.
Ask your dad. It's so much simpler. It's just a loan.
Hello, Fraulein...
Hello.
Goodbye, Max.
Goodbye, David.
David, what is it that your brother calls the art business, again?
Baked air.
That is so... great.
Sorry I'm late, Herr Rothman.
You know that horrible little tramp
whose always making you feel guilty, Herr Hitler.
He's making a speech right near us, where we live,
and I really think you should hear what he has to say, Herr Rothman.
We are being stabbed in the back!
We won this war!
Our boys fought like lions, like lions!
So why in the name of providence are we giving away
70,000 square miles of land, abandoning six million of our fellow Germans?
Because we have been stabbed in the back!
By the profiteers, and the maggots, and the parasites.
And make no mistake.
Germany's greatest enemy lives within.
Deutschlanderrrrrrsss!!!
Deutschlanderrss!!!
Deutschlanderrrrrrsss!!!
Deutchlanderrrrrrsss!!!
Deutschlanderrrrrrsss!!!
Ah, Rothman, there you are.
Well, what do you think?
Well, what can one say?
This is the new art, Rothman.
I realized something that all you hoity-toity types missed,
drinking your coffee,
smoking your cigarettes with your mistresses...
The way to reinvent art is not to make it political --
far too small a step.
No, Rothman, you could say you and I were ploughing
the same furrows for a while,
but then I made the bigger leap.
Politics is the new art.
Yes, Rothman, my whole life,
my whole life has been a detour to this moment.
Everything I've struggled to learn about art,
about design, colour, composition, theatre, opera, architecture...
I'm going to stuff it all into this and make it live again.
Well, Hitler,
I've always thought you to be an intuitive futurist.
You're so disappointing, Rothman.
Am I only acceptable to you if you can classify me?
Isn't that emblematic of the world we both despise?
What's happened to you, Rothman? You're suddenly so conventional.
Go deeper, you said.
Well, I went deep.
I went deeper than any artist has ever gone before.
Where is the work, my dear?
Hmm?
Where is the evidence of this journey into the abyss?
I am the new avant garde!
I am the new artist practicing the new art!
And politics is the new art!
Hello.
You look pensive.
No, no, no, no... I was just, I was just thinking...
Where are you going?
Oh, I have to return some drawings.
And I'm being dragged to shul again tonight.
He just wants to get away from your mother.
Sometimes I think we're all marching backwards.
How do I rate? As a partner?
Promising...
especially when you learn to apply yourself.
While we're on the subject, I hear that it takes more than one girl
to tell you that you're still handsome.
But at a certain point...
it starts to get in the way...
of, umm...
Progress?
Exactly.
You know, progress really does it for me.
I'll see you tonight.
Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out.
Yes, well, look, Rothman,
you're a... a...
A what, Hitler?
You're a...
a well-born sort of person.
By caesarean, actually.
A nice sort of person...
There's a lot of people in this country who don't like...
well-born sorts.
Well, we'll just have to live with that, won't we?
What's this?
Some designs.
Hmm.
My God.
That's certainly an alternative to boring old modernism.
This is some old-new future world, isn't it?
Yes.
This will be the symbol for the whole movement.
It's a Sanskrit symbol for energy, for the sun, but I've reversed it.
Yes, that I've seen before.
Yes, but against a white background?
My God, you really worked this out, didn't you?
Down to the uniforms,
and, um...
Yes, I see.
- And, uh, what kind of roads... - Roads?
You see, even in the more thickly populated areas,
these large super roads will create a sense of open space,
and of flying...
Hitler, this is meant work.
You finally found your voice.
The future... as a return to the past.
You wouldn't...
show it, would you?
Yes,
I will.
Because this work...
well...
this work belongs in a gallery.
You're not pulling my leg, are you, Rothman?
Because, ah, I do have a career in politics, you know.
Well, Hitler, what would you rather do?
Change the way people see?
Or how they pay their taxes?
Meet me at Metropole, nine-thirty.
Bring everything, the whole schmier.
He's created this whole new world and he has all these flags
and drawings with these Teutonic references.
That doesn't sound very futuristic.
No, but you can't say it's not a coherent vision,
down to detailed notes on his foreign policy.
David, he... he's created these epic roadways
where the traveller will experience the feeling of flight.
He's resurrected all the German gods
and it's all complete kitsch from A to Z.
It's... it's very interesting. It's future kitsch.
Oh, he sounds mad. Oh, he's barking!
And what he's pushing makes the Kaiser seem like a Sunday painter.
I saw him speak.
Oh, really? That sounds a bit of a worry.
No, no, no, he's dreadful.
He just stands there shouting slogans and posing
and the whole thing is like a giant art project.
Of course, the minute I said I'd show him...
- Politics went out the window. - Exactly.
It's going to be a big show! It's going to be a big, big show!
- Please, no, Max. You cannot afford it. - I'm going to bring in...
some English artists, some French ones. There's this character called Duchamp,
he's very, very interesting. He does things with urinals and wine racks.
- Says in the future, everything is art. - Ahhh, the meshugana show
Ah, pappi!
The future is subversive, David!
And I don't want to see any stiffs up front!
Yesterday there was nothin' but stiffs, I never got going.
Well, I don't have any control over who's in front.
Mensch, are you daft?
This is all about control, that's the thing about art.
You don't just slap on the paint, even if it looks that way.
Now, I need more enthusiasm up front.
I need the energy, it's like a loop -- they give it to me,
I give it to them, they give it to me.
Could you put that out, please? It bothers my voice.
And this is the last time.
No more.
What are you talking about?
- I'm through. - You're through?
Find somebody else.
Rothman's going to give me a show.
Rothman? Rothman?
Max Rothman?
Are you mad?
You think Herr Rothman would lift a finger for you?
Hitler, you have one of the most authentic Germanic voices
I've ever heard.
And you're thirty years old. It's now or never.
What are you waiting for?
They're your canvas...
That's your paint.
What are you waiting for? Let it out!
Today...
today, I will address something central to my thinking.
Today, I will address the Jewish question.
Not long ago, I was strolling,
when I suddenly encountered an apparition
in a black caftan and black hair locks.
And my first question was...
Is this a Jew?
And then the more I stared, the more my first question
assumed a new form:
Is this a German?
: Nooo!!!
Is there any form of filth, particularly in cultural life,
without a Jew involved in it?
Because when you cut into an abscess, what do you find,
like maggots in a rotting body?
A kike!
With the appearance of the first settlement,
the Jew is suddenly at hand,
the stranger is given a friendly reception.
He soon becomes an active part of the economic life of the settlement.
He begins to lend money.
Now the Jew is a steady resident.
Commerce and finance have become his complete monopoly.
He begins a second phase,
where he begins to emphasize his Judaism less,
and his Germanism more.
Yes, he becomes, if you can believe it,
Germanic.
Culturally, he contaminates art and literature, theatre.
Religion... ridiculed.
Ethics and morality...
pissed on!!!
German girls turned into whores!!!
Whores!!!
The Jew casts off his final cloak and becomes the blood Jew.
The tyrant becomes the vampire of nations.
The vampire of the people of Deutschland.
Blood Jew, blood Jew, blood Jew...
blood Jew... blood Jew...
blood Jew...
Blood Jew... Blood Jew...
So, coming for supper?
Mmmm...
No.
I have to meet someone at the Metropole at 9:30.
Can I drop you?
No, I'd like to walk.
I should get more exercise.
I'm seeing a hypnotist Monday.
Well, that's good.
Are you sure I can't drop you?
Kiss Mammi for me.
Oh, God.
Leave him.
He's finished.