Nymphomaniac: Vol. II

This is nothing less than "Zeno's paradox."

You are Achilles and the tortoise is the orgasm.

- Oh, come on. - No, no, no. Listen.

Achilles and the tortoise are going to race,

and Achilles is confident,

so he gives the tortoise a hundred meters head start.

Now the mathematical problem is that

before Achilles can pass the tortoise,

he has to reach the point

where the tortoise started after a hundred meters.

But when Achilles gets there, the tortoise has already moved on,

and then he has to reach the next point,

and the tortoise has moved on again

and so on and so on and so on.

So Achilles can never reach the tortoise and never pass him.

And in the same way, because you were giving chase,

you couldn't reach satisfaction. That's the paradox.

I'm sorry, but it seems as if you're not taking this very seriously.

I'm telling you about the worst thing that's happened to me,

that I at that point, within seconds, lost all sexual sensation.

My cunt simply went numb.

And immediately we have to hear about

this ridiculous mathematical problem.

In fact, I'm in doubt whether you're even listening.

Why do you doubt that?

This is not a story I've told in its entirety before,

but whenever I've told other men about experiences,

episodes in my sex life,

it was easy to see that they became quite excited.

I got excited.

Yes, about the mathematical crap, not about the story.

What kind of a person are you, actually?

I...

You wouldn't know.

No, but I can guess.

Why didn't I get that earlier?

The fact you don't get excited over my dirty stories

is because you can't relate to them.

You've never been with a woman.

That's quite accurate.

Not with a man, either.

Are you sorry about that?

Well, yeah, out of curiosity...

not out of lust, as you would think.

I consider myself asexual.

Of course, I experimented with masturbation when I was a teenager,

but it didn't do much for me.

So, there's nothing sexual about me.

It's not as uncommon as you would think.

And of course, I've read a lot about sexual subjects...

"Canterbury Tales"," Decameron", "Thousand and One Nights".

You name it and I've read it with great interest

and enjoyment,

but only literary enjoyment.

But... but I think maybe it makes me

a better listener to your story, and...

I have no preconceived notions or preferences.

I'm actually the best judge you could give your story to.

And when it comes to deciding whether you're a bad human being or not,

I'm... I've no problems with that.

Because I don't look at you through the glasses

colored by sexuality or sexual experience.

I'm a virgin.

I'm innocent.

She's looking at me.

Yes.

It's an icon. Is it Russian?

Yes, it's, uh...

It's a skilled copy, maybe in the manner of Rublev.

Icons are usually connected to the Eastern Church.

The Eastern Church?

I might become a bit theoretical.

You may. I'd like you to tell me about your picture.

Although the Christian church was split up in 1054

because of differences in opinion

between the Eastern Church and the Western Church,

what we today call the Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church,

this is a typical Eastern Church icon.

It usually depicts the Virgin Mary

and the infant Jesus and more rarely,

for instance, the crucifixion,

which in the Western Church was much more prevalent.

If you generalize, you could say that the Western Church

is the church of suffering,

and the Eastern Church is the church of happiness.

Why is she looking right at me?

Well, she's telling a story.

Icons were originally a kind of

pictorial Bibles for the illiterate.

There are some who say you...

you read an icon, even write it.

There are different types of icons. This is a Hodegetria.

The directions are very important.

She's looking at you, but she's pointing at the baby Jesus.

And he's looking at you and pointing at her.

Do you see how flat it is? There's no... no perspective.

It's because it's an image of eternity.

And eternity isn't in 3-D.

But you said the Eastern Church was the church of joy?

Yeah, the sanctities of the Eastern Church

were all about the joy of faith

while the Western Church wallowed in... in suffering and death.

If you imagine a... a mental journey from Rome eastward,

you feel how you move away from guilt and pain

towards joy and light.

But you say you didn't believe in God.

No, but the concept of religion is interesting.

Like the concept of sex.

But you won't find me on my knees

with regards to either.

Let's call this chapter,

"The Eastern Church and the Western Church."

But it won't be...

it won't be a story about traveling east from Rome

towards the light, but rather the opposite.

So, in order not to make it too sad,

I've pepped up the name of the chapter with an extra title.

I have to go back a bit.

I was 12 years old and on a school trip in the hills.

- Are you making fun of me? - What do you mean?

You have this orgasm, not only an orgasm

- but a spontaneous orgasm. - Yes, it was an orgasm,

though the doctor described it as an epileptic seizure.

And during that orgasm, you had this vision?

Of these two women on each side of you.

The woman on my right side seemed to be dressed

in purple and scarlet

with a lot of gold and pearls.

She was carrying a golden goblet in her hand.

She was sitting on some strange animal.

And then the other woman was dressed in Roman clothes,

a baby on her arm

and her hair lay in tight waves beneath a veil.

Was she holding the veil with two fingers like this?

And the other woman,

was she sitting on an animal with seven heads and ten horns?

The animal only had one head. It was kind of a bull.

What's the matter?

You're making this up.

No, I'm not. I'm telling you about my first orgasm,

which came upon me without the slightest touch

in some strange ways up in the mountains.

I never had achieved an orgasm before,

even though I masturbated

as if my life depended on it during that time.

Your story is like a... blasphemous retelling

of the Transfiguration of Jesus on the Mount,

which is one of the Eastern Church's holiest passages.

It's when the humanity of Christ is illuminated

by the divine light of eternity.

Jesus, Peter and two disciples had climbed a mountain.

And suddenly, the disciples see this light

emanating from Jesus' head.

And Moses and Elijah appear by his side.

And they hear the voice of God, calling him his son.

The relationship between... between the two women and you

would be the same as the relation

between Moses and Elijah and Jesus.

And that's where it becomes blasphemous.

I see.

You don't even...

you don't even know who these women were, do you?

No, but one of them did look like the Virgin Mary,

now that you mention it.

Well, it wasn't the Virgin Mary, I can tell you that.

From your description,

it must've been Valeria Messalina,

the wife of Emperor Claudius,

the most notorious nymphomaniac in history.

I thought she looked like your icon.

We have that image from a statue in the Louvre.

It's made like a Hodegetria, but it's not a religious person, far from it.

And the other woman, the one astride the creature,

that was no one else but the great Whore of Babylon,

riding on Nimrod in the form of a bull.

If anyone else would've told me that story,

I would've seen it as a blasphemous joke,

spiced up with a Biblical light

emanating from nothing less than a spontaneous orgasm.

Goodness gracious.

You demand a lot of your listener.

I promise you I'm as innocent in regards to the religious

as you are when it comes to sex.

The Transfiguration on the Venus Mount.

And then later, you lost your orgasm altogether.

Wagner. "Das Rheingold".

The descent into Nibelheim. Was it that bad?

Try to imagine that in one fell swoop,

you lost all desire to read

and all your love and passion for books and letters.

I don't even know if I can imagine that.

Can I help you?

But as so often before in my life,

a bit of hope sprang from a mystical event.

Which was?

Three dead leaves performing a strange ballet.

That gave you hope? For what?

- For regaining my sexuality. - How?

To claim it by force.

In spite of my tireless efforts,