Ingmar Bergman, Saraband (subtitulado)

TÍTULO ORIGINAL: Saraband (TV)
AÑO: 2003
PAÍS: Suecia
DIRECTOR: Ingmar Bergman
GUIÓN: Ingmar Bergman
MÚSICA: Johann Sebastian Bach, Johannes Brahms
FOTOGRAFÍA: Stefan Eriksson, Jesper Holmström, Per-Olof Lantto, Sofi Stridh, Raymond Wemmenlöv
REPARTO: Liv Ullmann, Erland Josephson, Börje Ahlstedt, Julia Dufvenius
PRODUCTORA: Sveriges Television
GÉNERO: Drama | Secuela. Telefilm
SINOPSIS: Treinta años después de divorciarse, Marianne, obedeciendo a un impulso repentino, visita a Johann, que ahora vive retirado en su casa de verano en la isla de Dalarna. Continuación de "Secretos de un matrimonio" (1973).
Fuente y críticas: FILMAFFINITY
[http://www.filmaffinity.com/es/film688648.html]
---

Johan became a multimillionaire
in his old age.

An old Danish aunt...

who had been a renowned
opera singer...

left him a fortune.

Once he became financially
independent, he left the university.

He bought his grandparents'
summer house.

A run-down chalet in an
isolated area near Orsa.

Johan and I
haven't had any contact

with each other
for many years.

Our daughters are far away,
even from me.

Martha lives in a home,

sinking in the isolation
of her illness.

I visit her now and then,
but she doesn't recognize me.

And Sarah... Sarah married
a successful lawyer...

and then moved to Australia where
they have very good jobs.

They don't have any children.

Me?

I still practice my profession,
but at the pace I choose.

Family quarrels and divorces mostly.

I've been thinking I
should visit Johan.

ONE
Marianne carries out her plan

I've been thinking...
I should visit Johan.

And now I'm here.

He's sitting there,
at the porch.

And I've been standing here,
watching him and...

waiting,
at least ten minutes.

Maybe I should have ignored
this irrational impulse.

This trip.

In fact,
I'm not an impulsive person at all.

But here I am...

And so I must decide:

Slowly return to my car...

or get close to him.

Of course, I could stay
here a while longer...

and let my confusion abate.

But not very long.
A minute more!

This minute is taking its time.

33 seconds...

47 seconds...

55 seconds...

No!

- Did I wake you?
- It's you, Marianne.

- Hi!
- No, don't get up.

- Typical, you were spying on me.
- That's not true.

We haven't seen each other in 30 years.
32 years!

- We simply lost track of
each other. - That's natural.

People start together,

then they separate
and talk by phone...

- and finally silence.
- So sad!

- ¿Was that a reproach?
- No, we had nothing to say to each other.

Then suddenly you call me
and tell me you want to visit.

- You didn't sound very keen.
- Keen? I said no.

I still say no. I don't want this.
No. But you don't care.

- I had to come.
- Why?

- I won't tell you.
- You're laughing.

Johan...

I've driven 340 km....

and managed to find your hideout...

in the middle of the jungle.

Now that I've seen and kissed you
and we've spoken I can leave.

That won't be enough.
Really?

- At least you can stay over
for dinner. - Why?

A week ago,
I told Mrs. Nilsson...

that my ex wife was coming
to visit.

I can't tell her suddenly that there'll
be no dinner. She'll go crazy.

- Who's Mrs. Nilsson?
- Agda. Agda Nilsson.

Are you and her a couple?

God forbid!

The two of you live all alone here
in the midst of a dark forest?

Mrs. Nilsson lives in
the village.

She cleans and cooks
and then goes home.

- She's religious and mean.
- There's no romance then.

To be honest,
I fear the hag.

I fear that she might want to marry me.
Anyway, stay for dinner.

She's made up the guest room,

so you have to stay
and spend the night.

I suppose I better accept.

It's so hard to get up from
this chair. No, don't help me.

What's wrong, Johan?

I'm trying to put
my arms around you.

Want to hug me?

Damn, Johan!

Old idiot!

- And how old are you?
- I don't know, and you?

- 86.
- No, not you, me!

Around 55.

- I'm 63.
- Really? That many?

And I've had my uterus
and ovaries removed.

- Does that trouble you?
- Yes, sometimes.

Let's sit on the bench.

It's so beautiful!

When beauty is revealed...
in life, in creation...

Where is the source, the giver?
Beauty forever.

- I didn't know you knew some psalms.
- My grandmother taught me.

And my grandfather rewarded me
with little iron soldiers.

We can enjoy the view,

- hold hands...
- Are we going to hold hands?

- Didn't we used to do it?
- Yes, I believe so.

I haven't done it since...
I've stopped doing it.

You really have
a beautiful view.

Can you see the lake
house from here?

You can see the light reflected,
behind the rocks.

I drove by the lake house
coming here. It looks inhabited.

You could say that.
Henrik is there.

Yes, Henrik. Mi dear son.
The assistant professor.

- Are you on speaking terms?
- Not exactly.

I got a brief letter declaring that
he was planning on moving there.

He and his daughter Karin have
been there since late April.

You don't have much contact then.

Absolutely. A cordial conversation
if we run across each other.

- Fat boy Henrik!
He must be... - 61 !

- My God!
- You can say that again!

- And his daughter Karin?
- Karin is 19.

Her mother died of
cancer two years ago.

- Anna...
- Tell me.

Anna and Henrik were
married for 20 years.

He couldn't take her death.
He retired before his time.

I heard they were happy
to get rid of him.

He felt mistreated there.

- Like you, at that age.
- Me? No...

Well, yes, I was a bit fed up
with the academic standards silliness.

My honorary doctorate
from the University of Michigan...

finished all that.
- We were talking about Henrik.

He directs an orchestra called
"Uppsala Chamber Soloists".

But he'll quit that also.

He must do something.

I think he's writing a book.

- What about the daughter? Karin?
- Karin also plays the cello.

She'll audition for the
conservatory in the fall.

Henrik is teaching her.

They sit in the house with
their cellos every day.

You could say she's beautiful.
Like her mother.

Yes.

So...I know nothing
about our daughters.

- Sarah is in Australia.
- Australia?!

- Yes, Australia. - Well, she
managed to get far away.

I get letters and
phone calls from her.

She's fine. A good
law firm. A good husband.

- Sarah's happy with her life.
- And poor Martha?

Martha's sinking further and further.
She didn't recognize me.

She's no longer aware, in
our sense, of the world.

I understand...

- And you?
- I can't complain.

Though sometimes, I see myself
in voluntary isolation...

and I think I'm in hell.

Like I'm dead,
but I don't know about it.

But I'm fine.

I've plagiarized my past now that
I have the page of answers.

Doesn't sound like fun.

That's it, Marianne.
It's not.

And who the hell said
that damnation would be fun?

- What does your "page of answers
say"? - Want to know?

- I asked the question, didn't I?
- It says my life was shit.

A stupid and totally senseless life.

Is our marriage part
of your hell?

- To be honest, yes.
- I'm sorry to hear that.

An old priest once told me:

"A good relationship has two elements:

a good friendship
and an unshakeable eroticism".

Nobody can say that
we weren't good friends.

- Good friends.
- Of course.

- You were unfaithful. - I...
- I was too.

- It's so sad.
- But it was long ago.

- It's still painful.
- Not for me.

No, I suppose not.

- Dearest Marianne.
- That's what you say.

Yes, it's what I say.
It's nice to be here with you.

Holding hands,
Watching the beautiful view.

- Without talking about painful things.
- You're holding my hand.

Dinner! Mrs. Nilsson
will be furious if we're late.

Johan, I need to wash up
and get my bag from the car.

This was a mistake!

TWO
Nearly a week has passed

Are you Karin? Do you want
to speak to your grandfather?

Your grandfather and Mrs. Nilsson
went to the dentist.

I'm Marianne. I was your granddad’s
wife. I'm visiting.

- I know.
- Come on, sit down.

If you want, you can help me
clean out these mushrooms.

Here's a knife.

If you want to talk, we'll talk.
If not, we can just be together.

You must know Henrik,
my dad.

Can't say I do. I've just greeted him,
but I don't know him.

- Mom is dead.
- I know.

- She died two years ago.
- Your granddad told me.

- Dad retired and is spending his time
with music now. - The cello, right?

He's writing about
St John's Passion.

- You also play the cello?
- I hope to get into the conservatory.

- Your father is the teacher
and you are the student. -Yes.

What's wrong?

Do you know Hindemith's
cello sonata, opus 25?

I don't know anything about music.

Dad wants me to play it
for the audition.

- It's too hard!
- And doesn't he think so?

How were you in the days
before your period?

A premenstrual monster.

I would go to sleep as an angel,
and wake up as a demon.

My mind gets shattered.
And it's very hard for me to get up.

Dad is a morning person.

And I yawned.

We were working on
the fourth movement.

That damned Hindemith wrote:

"Lebhafte Viertel ohne jeden
Audsdruck und stets Pianissimo"

- You know?
- It looks difficult anyhow.

So I sat there with my
shattered mind and I tried.

I begged him to let me off
the hook, to no avail.

He made me play the same part
at least twenty times!

Finally I said. quietly:
"I don't give a damn about this".

I said that it wasn't a class,
it was animal torture.

Henrik was also angry,
but he laughed and said that I should...

try from the beginning, where it says:

"Lebhaft, sehr markiert...
mit festen Bogenstrichen."

I was so angry that I couldn't.
He said I was doing it on purpose.

I said that he didn't have the
skills to teach: I was unfair.

Dad is the most patient, sensitive and
courteous teacher there is.

He said it had nothing to
do with the teaching,

but rather with willpower
and discipline...

and that I was lazy.
That I was lazy!

Then I got up and left the
cello because I was trembling.

I said that it was enough for the day
and that I was going out for a walk.

He turned pale.
I'd never seen him like that.

And he said:
"You're not leaving".

I put my boots on and
headed for the door.

I didn't hear him approach,
but he grabbed me by the shoulders...

You're not leaving!

You're not leaving!

I sat and cried.

And I said: "Never again,
never again,

...never again".

And kept crying
until I felt empty.

Then I thought of coming over to see
granddad and begging him to help me...

leave that lunatic.
It was too much for me.

Now the old man can take
care of his crazy son:

send him to the farm,
go to the police...

or kill him.

Then I became aware that
from now on, I know nothing.

I know nothing about my life,
what I'll do or become.

Then I realized
that mom is dead,

and I can't ask her anything.

I was overcome with sorrow for
myself and cried again.

You must think I'm a very
nervous person, but I'm not.

- Do you think Henrik is suicidal?
- If he'd kill himself?

In an extreme situation like
the one you're describing...

could he hurt himself?

You know, to be honest,
I don't know my father very well.

I only know that deep
inside he's... good.

If not, mom never...

Mom loved him, you know?
They loved each other.

And I suppose I was
out of that love.

That's what I think when I'm feeling sorry for
myself and I get tired of my boyfriends.

Why can't I feel love
like mom did?

Were you afraid your dad would
kill himself after her death?

I never gave his
tragedy much thought.

But I tried to take care of mom,
as much as he'd let me.

Mom was never very talkative.

But on one of her last days...

She was always drowsy
from the morphine...

On one of her last days,
I was sitting beside her,

she looked at me and said clearly:

"You know I love you".

"You know I love you, Karin".

My mother never spoke that way.

Dad once said as a joke,
this was a long time ago,

"Anna never says I love you, but
her actions are always full of love".

- What if grandfather comes back?
- It's OK, I've got another bottle.

- Were you really married to grandpa?
- Is that so strange?

It's hard to imagine it.
What kind of person is he?

Good question.

- Did you love him? - I've asked myself
the same question all my life.

- Was he so difficult?
- We were married for 16 years.

Then we got divorced.
He had met another woman,

an idiot named Paula.

I got married again to
a boring glider pilot.

One day, he just flew away.

They never found him.

For some reason, Johan and I
got together several times.

Then I found out
he was servicing...

another lady,
a real whore.

I was angry and hurt
and finished with him.

I suddenly realized,

that I was the most cheated on
wife and lover in the world.

Johan was remarkably and
compulsively unfaithful.

- You mean that my grand father
-...was a real liar.

And he used to write poems. A volume got
published, but it wasn't successful.

- My grandfather used to write verses?
- Yes, even love poems for me.

- Did you keep them?
- No.

But did you love him?

I was terribly naive.

Nowadays, I suppose it's just
not possible to be so, so childish...

and so know-it-all like I was.

I think I loved him.
Utterly.

- You never suspected?
- Not for an instant.

- What made you come here
suddenly? - I don't know.

You still love him!
Don't you?

If you had to be honest,
Marianne...

I hear people say Johan
is this or that,

not very kind things usually.

But I don't know the Johan
they're talking about.

I always thought he was a good man.
Very, very good.

It was so easy to hurt him,
he could never defend himself.

I believe that Johan...

is a moving person.

He's moving.

- Are you crying?
- Yes, a little.

Are you crying for granddad?

- I'm crying for Johan
and Marianne. - I understand.

This is strange.

Dear...

- What will you do?
- Return to Henrik.

- Is that intelligent?
- It has nothing to do with that.

I'll stay here a few more days.
Let me know what happens.

I will.

THREE
About Anna

It can't happen again.

- Never again.
- Never.

We must have a serious talk.

We both know how things are.
There's nothing to sort out.

I'm glad it's so simple!

I was scared to death.

There's no other way to put it:
I was scared to death.

- Do you understand? - I'm very
tired. I'm going to sleep.

- Are you asleep?
- No.

Once I had a similar
situation with Anna.

We weren't married yet,
but we lived together.

Maybe I was a little drunk.
I said nasty things about...

the damned university,

my colleagues,
our work environment.

And then about my father,
that old bastard.

Anna didn't say a word.
And that upset me even more.

I remember thinking...

"What's on Anna's mind,
while she's sewing that skirt?"

"What's she thinking? Maybe
that Henrik is unbearable".

And then she said it.

"When you're like this,

I start thinking that you're
not the man I planned to marry".

Then she went to the living
room and started to pack.

I tried to stop her.
She didn't move...

but a message got through
from her body to mine.

It said "I'm leaving...
I'm leaving you".

Then I said, with a voice that was
foreign to me: "Nobody leaves me".

"Nobody leaves me"

"Nobody turns his back on me
and leaves... ".

I sat on the floor and
thought: "It's over".

I shut my eyes and thought:
"Anna's leaving and she won't return".

But then I heard her
going around the kitchen.

She was making coffee.

But she didn't say a word.
Maybe she wanted to sober me up.

She didn't say anything for the rest
of the evening: just kept on sewing.

Anna was the silent type
anyway, she never spoke much.

But we didn't need to speak;
we always knew...

I begged her to forgive me.

Like a child to his mother:
"I won't do it again".

It's just what I want to say to you,
but it sounds ridiculous.

Anyone can say "I'm sorry",
but it's meaningless.

So no further words
were spoken that night.

It became a...
distant night.

Anna sunk into a deep sleep: I
stayed awake listening to her breathing.

I watched her, a street light
shone through the window.

I gazed at her for a long time and
wondered if she really knew...

how much I loved her.

Between Anna and me it was a question
of belonging, if you know what I mean.

An ownership that was...
a miracle. I know it sounds fatuous.

There's no better word.

I fell asleep as dawn approached,
and when the alarm clock rang,

we got up, had breakfast
and chatted as usual.

I went to a class
and Anna went to the library.

This is an explanation:
not an excuse.

I have no excuses.

If you leave me...

I’ll be ruined, or some other
word that doesn't exist.

In due time, you'll have your freedom.
You'll go to the conservatory...

With professional teachers
and a different life.

It'll be different for me also.

These months with you have
been "a state of grace".

For me, that is,
not for you.

It was kind of you
to return so soon.

I don't know what to say.
It's all so complicated.

We don't have to
speak about that.

Sometimes I feel a great
punishment awaits me.

FOUR

About a week later,
Henrik visits his father.

"Kierkegaard, S.
Or A Fragment of Life"

- Am I interrupting?
- Oh, so it's you.

It's been a long time.

- How are you?
- Well, thank you, and you?

At 60 there's 6 things wrong with you,
at 70, 7 and so on.

It's a good evaluation: Of course,
it depends on your priorities.

- I heard about your ex wife's unexpected visit.
- Typical Marianne.

She's always known I
hate improvisation.

- Maybe I can see her.
- She's gathering strawberries.

I don't know if you'll be
here when she returns.

- I don't mean to disturb you.
- Thanks for being considerate.

What do you want?

I need 890,000 kroner.
An advance on my inheritance.

- You need money again.
- I know, I owe you 200,000.

- That you haven't even begun to pay back.
- Don't worry, I'll pay it back.

I'm sure I'll never
see that money again.

It's funny to
consider it a "loan".

If humiliating me amuses you,
let's not forget...

I'm not paying rent
on the lake house.

We've been there for five months
and you haven't seen a cent.

But you were able
to buy a new car.

It's a loan.
The owner is away.

When he returns in October,
I'll be without a car.

- How's the book going?
- Well, thank you.

That's a thorough answer.

I've been here ten minutes,
letting you humiliate me.

If I didn't need the money,
I'd have left long ago.

You can leave now.

It's not for me.
It's for Karin.

I see...
Marianne told me you two argued.

Are you trying to make her stay?

Do you think she'll accept a bribe?

I wonder how Anna
was able to stand you.

Don't bring Anna into this.

Don't you dare mention
Anna with that mouth.

I like you more or dislike you
less when you use that tone.

There's a healthy dose of
hate in your banalities.

It's like this:

There's a cello I can buy Karin;
an 1815 Fagnola.

It's an excellent instrument,
almost like a Guarneri.

Karin has a special talent,
she could become a great musician.

I took care of her instruction,

but her talent calls for more.
Like her cello.

Her German cello is passable,

but she'll audition
for the conservatory.

Are you sure it's good?

It wouldn't be the first
time they fool you.

It has an authenticity certificate

- and the seller is decent.
- Is that why it's so cheap?

He's old and sick and can't
take care of it any more.

- He said it's perfect for her.
- How touching.

Dad, where does all this
hostility come from?

Speak for yourself. When you were
18 or 19 I tried to approach you.

You had been very ill and your
mother wanted us to talk.

I told you I knew I had been a bad father,
but I wanted to make it better.

And you screamed.
Yes, screamed:

Bad father?!
You never were a father!

Then you said you could
do without my help.

Honest hate must be respected;
I respect it.

But I couldn't care less if
you hate me. You hardly exist.

If it wasn't for Karin,
who thank God is like her mother,

you wouldn't exist at all for me.

There's no hostility here, I swear.

Give me the name and number
of the cello owner and I'll see.

- Here you are.
- Thank you.

- What's your answer?
- I'll let you know.

Can I go?

I'm leaving.

- Can I just say one thing?
- Only if you must.

That tale of an argument
fifty years ago in no excuse.

Poor Anna.

Will you hit me now?

FIVE

I hope I'm not interrupting.

No, I've just finished.
I practice in the mornings.

The organist is expecting:
I'm replacing her.

- I thought you played the cello.
- I have an organ diploma.

In my time,
it was smart to have one.

There were a lot of churches
and few orchestras.

What were you playing?

A Bach sonata for a trio.
First movement.

- It was beautiful.
- This is a unique organ from 1728.

Nobody knows how it ended up here,
in the middle of nothing.

A few weeks ago, Karin and I
played a concert here.

It was almost full.

- Will you be playing any more concerts?
- I don't have the time.

Karin has to prepare her audition
and I have to finish my book.

Yes, I'm writing a book about
Bach's Passion of St. John.

I met Karin.
They say she's talented.

She's considered exceptional,
and not only by her dad.

- Are you her teacher?
- That's the way it's turned out.

In the conservatory, she'll
have the best European teachers.

- Won't it be difficult to let her go?
- Yes.

You could say that.

- Do you love her a lot?
- Yes.

- I'm sorry.
- No, it's all right.

- Karin is like Anna.
- She doesn't look like her.

What's wrong?

Whenever I mention Anna,
I cry. That's the way it is.

I can't help it.

She's been dead for two years and
it still hurts just the same.

That's the way it is.

Life itself has become a ritual.

I don't know, I can't find
words to describe it.

I've become a handicapped person.

Just like that.
Handicapped.

Karin is everything that
lends sense into my life.

And so...

It wouldn't have much
sense without her.

I think a lot about
death these days.

I think:

One day I'll walk through
the forest to the river.

A foggy, windless autumn day.

Absolute silence.

Then I see someone
by the gate.

Coming towards me. She's
wearing a denim skirt...

A blue jacket...

She's barefoot and her hair
is tied up in a long pony tail.

And she's walking towards me.

Anna is walking towards me,
through the gate.

And then I realize I'm dead.

Then something strange happens.

I think: "Is it this easy?"

We spend life thinking about
death and what comes after.

And then it's so easy.

I can see a flickering light
in the music. Like Bach.

- I think I understand.
- Come for dinner tonight.

- We're good cooks.
- Thanks, I like that.

I have to go now,
we've got a class.

Karin gets angry
if I'm late.

- See you soon.
- Wait, I don't think I can go.

- I understand. The old man
would get mad... - No.

- Why did you come here?
- I don't know.

You're a lawyer, right?
Can I sue him?

- Why would you want to do that?
- He's got a fortune and won't die.

He's probably mummified
by his own evil.

I asked him for an advance on my
inheritance, but he humiliated me.

I'd love to sue him.

Not while he's
mentally competent.

- He's not ill in that sense.
- No, he's not ill.

Are you here to ask for money
for a poor abandoned wife?

Don't get angry.
Of course I ask myself.

You haven't had
contact for decades.

I'm not here to ask for money.

Are you fucking?

Do you hate him so much to
have to talk this way?

Forgive me for desecrating this
place and ruining our chat.

I hate him in all possible
dimensions of the word.

I hate him so much, I would like to
see him die from a horrible illness.

I'd visit him every day,
just to witness his torment.

Maybe I'm just a pathetic
soul. Theoretically.

I see surprise and displeasure
in your eyes.

As a lawyer,
you should be used to...

the stupidity and repulsiveness
in the world.

Goodbye, Marianne. It was nice
of you to listen to me.

Sometimes I think I'm insane.
I suffer all the time.

SIX
AN OFFER

- Karin!
- Hi, granddad.

- Well... this is my study.
- I haven't been here for years.

You and Anna would come sometimes,
when you were living at the lake house.

- You used to smoke then.
- Yes, you're right.

I stopped when I read
Freud's biography.

33 operations for a mouth cancer.

- And even then he couldn't stop smoking.
- Bur are you all right?

Unless you consider
aging an illness.

- That's a beautiful picture of mom.
- I found it by chance.

I had it blown up...
and there it is.

I think of mom every day.
And dream of her at night.

I thought the pain would subside.
But that's not happening.

But it doesn't hurt like in the
beginning, now it's here.

Like a part of me.
I wouldn't want to be without her.

I can say I miss her,
painfully.

We didn't see each other very often,
due to Henrik and I.

Anna tried and tried.

But Henrik and I never
managed... well, you know.

- You wanted to speak to me?
- Yes, sit down.

Last night, Mrs. Nilsson came
personally to deliver a letter.

Meaning that dad shouldn't...

That was all right.

He's in Uppsala with his orchestra.

I have here a letter that came a
few days ago, and it involves you.

- Have you heard of Ivan Chablov?
- Director in St. Petersburg.

He toured here recently with
the philharmonic. Fantastic!

I've known him since my years in
Leningrad. This letter is from him.

"Johan, my dear friend and brother".

"Sorry for writing in my
poor English and German"

"but my excellent secretary

has just had twins".

"It's very important that I
write you, my dear friend".

"For the following reason:"

"On a free night, I went to a
young musician's concert".

"I must say I was
surprised and happy".

"A young female cellist was playing...

"a Zoltan Kodaly solo piece."

"And I was surprised by that
young performer's talent."

-"Her maturity, her skill
and courage". - Well, I'll be!

"The school gave me her name...""

"and told me her father
was her teacher."

"I got in touch with him,
but he rejected me curtly,"

"maybe arrogantly is a better word."

"My dear Johan,
I know you're ..."

her grandfather.""

"And that's the reason why
I'm writing you."

"The young lady's technique is
risky, somewhat lacking:""

"which could result in
a future catastrophe".

"I'm a guest professor at
Helsinki's Sibelius Academy,""

"One of the best in Europe."

"I have a good rapport
with the president."

"And we could, after
the mandatory exam,""

"offer our young cellist
a quality education..

that her talent
obviously deserves."

Let me know your answer as soon
as possible. My embrace, Ivan.""

So, Karin, what do you say?
Maybe I should add...

that I'll take care of all your
expenses as long as you need it.

I've spoken to the cello seller:
I've made him a good offer.

More than he was asking for.

So if you want it, it's yours.

Assuming, of course, that you
accept Chablov's kind offer.

I don't know what to say.
It's overwhelming.

I understand this letter puts
you in an awkward situation.

- I'll write him and tell him
that you're... - Flattered.

But that your decision
affects others.

- Others?
- Your father, specifically.

I need to rest.
Goodbye, Karin.

Thanks for the chat.

Marianne used to say that I was
a terrible character judge.

That I didn't understand emotions.
But even I understand this:

Your mother lived
in this world...

to do the most unbearable chore.

Darkness got even darker...

and light faded away
when Anna died.

It's hard for Henrik. To live.
Despite everything.

You're like your mother.

And I'm fond of you, Katja.

- Goodbye, Karin.
- Goodbye, grandfather.

SEVEN
ANNA'S LETTER

- To Henrik from Anna?
- I found it in a book.

May 18. Anna...

wrote it one week
before dying.

I'd like you to read it.

I can't understand Anna's handwriting.
You'll have to read it to me.

I'll try.
Here, have some whisky.

Mom had found out a
few days before...

that she didn't have
much time left.

She wrote the letter because
Henrik had a cold...

and wasn't allowed to visit her.

It says:

"The fact that you can't
visit me is, perhaps,

a relief for both".

"We understand each other well.
You open the door."

"I make an effort.
You make an effort".

"But I still see in your
eyes how sick I am".

This is the difficult part.

- She writes about dad and me.
- Is that painful?

Yes.

When you were with
her at the hospital,

did you speak about
what she had written?

- No, never.
- What did she write?

"Dear Henrik, I have to tell you
something of which we've never spoken".

"I've wanted to talk
to you about Karin".

"But it was never necessary
because I was always there".

"Then I got sick
and I was there no longer".

"Of course I was there,
but you kept me apart".

"You and I love each other.
I was sure about our love".

"But no love is strong enough...

to stand a devastating
effect like my illness".

"I see that you love Karin, but that
you also tie her to you".

"It's good that you were her
teacher, but there's a limit".

"When I'm no longer there,
the limit will be unclear".

"I know that Karin loves you".

"But you mustn't use her love.
You'll hurt her".

"That could be a permanent wound".

"That's why I ask
you to let her go".

"You shouldn't take
advantage of her kinship".

"Don't take advantage of her because
you're her self-proclaimed teacher.

"Dearest Henrik".

"You're so sensitive,
so considerate, so kind".

"I know it, without a doubt,
after so many years together".

"But you must be careful
not to burden Karin...

with the orphaned love that will remain
when I'm no longer there".

There's more,
but I don't want to read any more.

I can't.
It hurts so much!

I can hear my mother's voice!

Karin...

Why did you reach out to me?

- You're very involved.
- You could say that.

- And you know about granddad’s
plans. - He told me.

I don't expect advise,
I need to hear my voice aloud.

I believe things will
clear up this way.

Go ahead, speak.

- Mom saw.
- Yes, I think so.

And everything she warned
about has happened.

- I can't accept grandfather's
offer. - Why not?

If I leave Henrik, he'll die!

If I leave him, he'll die...
I'm sure about it, Marianne...

He doesn't even have
his orchestra anymore!

He can go on with his music,
but the county is reorganizing...

and dad will not be part of
the administration: he'll resign.

I can't leave him.
I'm so tired of him sometimes!

I know all the things
I can do in the future.

But mom is dead, and Henrik
can't manage his own life.

How do you think I'd feel with the
guilt if something happened to him?

My future and Henrik's
are entwined for now.

- At least you say "for now".
- Only for consolation.

- I want you to know that I don't
feel the same as you. - I know.

- Anna's love...
- That letter is love.

Isn't it?

I don't know.

EIGHT

- Back already? - There wasn't
much to do in Uppsala.

- Hi, dad.
- Hi, little Katja.

What score is that?

Bach's suites for cello!
You're mad!

Listen, Anderberg suggested
that you and I...

play a concert in November.

- It's very hard for me.
- We'll play together.

- What do you mean together?
- Like a dialogue, facing each other.

You'll play the parts you can handle
and I'll play the difficult ones.

Especially the prelude.
It'll be great!

- Which parts can I play?
- The Sarabandes, for example.

- It takes a lifetime to tame them.
- We have three months.

- And my audition?
- It's almost ready.

And students get permission
to play concerts.

I've spoken to Börtz.

It'll be good for the both of us,
now that I don't have the orchestra.

I won't even be the first
violin any longer.

- Dad! You must be furious!
- Perhaps.

But now I'll have
more time for you.

- I can help you better.
- Yes, of course.

That doesn't sound
very encouraging.

Hello, Katja, darling.

I have a feeling an
argument is coming.

- What's wrong, Katja?
- I don't know.

That is, I think I know,
but I don't know how to...

I know you've talked
to your grandfather.

- And with the bitch, I mean Marianne.
- Yes.

- I see. You did it beautifully.
- I must decide.

- I thought you had already done that.
- No, you did it.

Really? I mean,
is that what you've been thinking?

Dad...
I haven't bothered to think.

I thought, "Dad knows
what's best for me".

Perhaps you've already made
up your mind, haven't you?

Will you accept your
grandfather's offer?

- Have you read this?
- I have.

- You read the letter that mom
wrote me? - It speaks about me.

But it was for me!
And you read it. Just like that.

Do you think that's all right
because it speaks about you?

If you're going to get so upset,
it's no use talking about it.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

- I said I'm sorry, damn it!
- Why do you say you're sorry?!

Shall we get to work?
Or is there something else?

Dad...

It'll be painful.

For you or for me?

It may sound stupid,
but your tone frightens me.

I've made up my mind. For the first
time in my life it's my decision.

- But are you sad?
- Yes, I'm sad.

If you had told me you
had that letter from mom...

If you had let me read it,
maybe we could have...

You never told me...
You should have...

- Well, that's the way it is.
- How?

Next week, I'm going
to Hamburg with Emma.

She and I will be going to a school
for young orchestra musicians.

Claudio Abbado will come in
October and we'll go to Munich.

It's for young people from all over Europe.
You can't be older than 22.

Abbado will work with us for six weeks
and we'll play four concerts.

Emma recorded a video. She sent it
to the admission committee, as a joke...

We played Brahms.

Emma and I
got a letter...

which says the school accepts us.

That we're welcome.

And that...

That's exactly
what I want to do.

And it's exactly what
I've decided to do.

And the conservatory?

- How long is the Hamburg course?
- Two years.

Then there's a paid internship in
an Austrian or German orchestra

Three years.

- How will you pay for it?
- I have my inheritance.

- You've been thinking a lot.
- I told Emma it was useless.

That you had already decided.

God...

Oh God...

But dad, I don't want to...
I don't consider myself a soloist.

I want to play in an orchestra,
be part of a team effort.

Not sit down in a stage,
alone and exposed.

I don't want strangers to say
that I'm not good enough.

I want to decide my own future.
I want a simple life

I want to be... home.
To live a normal life.

Not a poor substitute for mom...

who gets your praise
for something I'm not.

It has to end.

And now it's ended.

At least,
give it the perfect ending.

What are you talking about?

Wouldn't you like to
play the fifth Sarabande?

- Right now?
- Yes, please.

NINE
CRUCIAL MOMENT

He's here.

Thank you.

- Can I ask who it was?
- From the hospital.

Henrik tried to commit suicide.
With pills.

Then he cut his arms
and neck with a knife.

He's in intensive care.

Call this number and
ask for nurse Ingegerd.

- God. - They found him
at the last moment.

A certain Mrs. Berg
was walking by the house...

- and saw a naked person
on the floor. - God.

The door was unlocked.

She tried to wake him up,
but he was unconscious.

And bleeding. The ambulance
took 20 minutes. - My God.

I should call Karin,
but she's on her way to Hamburg.

Henrik systematically fails at everything.
He can't even kill himself.

- Say something, for God's sake.
- You want me to answer that?

- Whatever. Say something spontaneous
for once. - You can't.

Sometimes you act like
a forgotten character...

in some stupid old movie.

- You're not real.
- You don't say.

- Right now... no, let's leave it.
- No, go on.

Where did you gather
all this disdain?

I didn't remember you like this.

- Disdain?
- Yes!

I don't know. Any disdain
I have is for myself.

I don't know.
I never thought of it this way.

- And the poor boy?
- Boy?

Ah, Henrik. Maybe he realized
he was a lot like me.

I was never like him. So ridiculous
all the time. Obese and submissive.

He surrounded me with a sticky love.
I admit I ignored that love.

He was as dedicated as a dog.
I wanted to kick him, metaphorically.

- What will happen now?
- How will this affect Karin?

- She'll blame herself.
- She should have thought about it.

- Do you think she'll return home?
- I don't know.

- You'll speak to her, won't you?
- If we find her.

I'll hire you as my agent.
How much do you charge?

Money is no problem.

As long as you put her
guilt in a safe.

What if she comes?
She loves that bastard.

- That would be disastrous!
- Yes, I believe so.

What can I say?

I was so close to Anna.

It was terrible when she left.
For me also.

Even though I was on the
outskirts of the catastrophe.

It's incomprehensible that Henrik...

had the privilege
of loving Anna.

And that she loved him.

- You're smiling ironically.
- No.

I'm not smiling.
I'm trying not to cry.

There's no reason for you to cry.

There is, but I won't
give any explanations.

TEN
THE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN

Marianne.

Marianne!
Sorry to wake you up.

It's all right.
I'll go back to sleep.

- What's wrong? Johan?
- I don't know.

- I think it's anguish.
- Anguish? What do you mean?

- I see! You're sad!
- I'm not sad...

It's worse. It's an anguish
from hell. It's bigger than me.

It's trying to make way through
every orifice in my body;

my eyes, my ass. It's like a huge
mental diarrhea!

I'm too small for this anxiety.

Are you afraid of death, Johan?

More than anything,
I'd like to scream.

What can you do with a baby
that won't be comforted?

- Come, lay by my side.
- There's no room.

- We've slept in smaller beds.
- We won't be able to sleep.

It doesn't matter. Not in
the last days of our lives.

I have to take off my shirt.
It's damp from my diarrhea.

Come on.

You take it off too.

Yes

Come on, Johan.
Come here.

There... lie down.

- Good night, Marianne.
- Good night.

Could you explain why
you turned up here?

- I thought you were calling me.
- I never called anyone.

- I had it in my head.
- How strange.

I understand your not understanding.

- How long will you stay?
- I have a case on the 27th.

- November?
- October.

- Good night, again.
- Good night.

Perhaps you're asking
yourself how it came out.

I stayed with Johan
until early October.

Our time together
was relaxingly pleasant.

We almost never talked about
sensitive subjects.

The last night we celebrated.

Nothing out of this world,
but good enough.

We promised to remain in touch.

I think we even fantasized
about a trip to Florence...

the next spring.

That trip never
happened, of course.

But we used to speak on
the phone on Sundays.

Then, one day Mrs. Nilsson
answered the phone.

She said that Johan
couldn't take any calls,

but that he would write.

I asked if he was all right;
she said yes, as far as she could tell.

That he was just tired and
that he would be writing.

I never got a letter, of course.

I wrote him, but never got an answer.

That's all I know.

Things are always all
right with me. In order.

Everything in its place. Maybe I'm a
bit lonely, but I don't know.

Sometimes... I think of Anna.

I wonder how she
managed her life.

How she spoke...

How she moved...

Her look...

That almost surreal smile.

Anna's feelings.

Anna's love.

Well...

Something happened to me that
perhaps is related to this.

When I came back, I visited
my daughter Martha at the sanatorium.

But I thought about
the enigma...

that for the first
time in our lives...

I realized...
I felt...

that I was touching my daughter.

My baby.