Rhinegold (Rheingold)

Syria, 2010

- Stay strong, guys! - Quiet!

Sick, habibi!

Inspired by true events

move it!

Quiet! Hey, be quiet!

Come here.

Sit.

What's your name?

Giwar hajabi.

Giwar hajabi. Are you kurdish?

Come here. Come and sit with us.

- Hi. - Are you from diyarbakir? - Do you speak kurmanji? - Sorani.

Welcome.

Why are you here?

Where's the toilet?

We take a shit once a day in the yard.

My first memories

are memories of prison.

Giwar hajabi?

Come here!

Come here! Move it!

Come on.

Welcome.

Salam.

Fetch two teas.

Is your father still composing?

Don't be afraid, I'm a kurd, too.

We all admire him very much.

He's a great man.

Because we respect your father so much and we're both kurds, I'll offer you a deal:

We'll provide you and your friends

with new passports.

We'll destroy your German passports and give you Syrian diplomatic passports.

With new names. Interpol will never find you.

You just have to tell me one thing:

Where's the gold?

Gold?

What gold?

If you won't tell us where the gold is,

we'll assume you're using it to support al qaeda.

In that case, your German citizenship won't protect you.

This is the only gold I have.

Fetch walid.

More tea?

A coke?

My father was a well-known composer among the kurds,

a free spirit who spent his days and nights composing.

My mother came from a respected kurdish family in Tehran.

Her family objected to my father:

Musicians played at weddings and in brothels and took opium.

But my mother followed her own path.

This is a godless place! We do not tolerate shameless pleasure!

Go home! Read the qur'an!

You go home and pray!

Khomeini had declared a fatwa against us kurds.

But in the north, communist kurds had established an enclave.

For my parents there was no alternative: They became freedom fighters.

They just wanted to survive.

Let no one say the kurds are dead,

let no one say the kurds are dead, we 're still alive.

We 're alive and will never lower our flag.

We 're alive and will never lower our flag.

Look out!

Take cover!

Master eghbal! Master eghbal, come back!

Come back!

Take your kalashnikov!

Go, go, go!

Everybody out! Out! Out!

Out! Out!

Out!

I've got you!

Everything's ok!

My daughter! My daughter!

- Here, take her! She's alive! - Bless you!

Sister, where are you going?

Is anyone there?

Giwar shall be your name: "Born of suffering."

My parents saw a better future for me in Europe.

In the middle of the Iran-Iraq war, they set out for Baghdad.

They hoped to travel onward from there.

Papers!

You're Iranians.

We're on the run from khomeini.

What if you're khomeini's spies? Get out!

Come with me.

After a few weeks in samawah prison, they stopped torturing my father.

They found out he was a musician and he was put on a list of important prisoners.

Eghbal hajabi.

This list was passed on to the red cross in France.

And they then tried to get the prisoners out.

Master eghbal!

We revere you! You bring light to the darkness!

We're going to Baghdad, the red cross will take care of you there.

Will they take us to Europe?

They'll do everything they can.

But it might take a while.

It took them a few years to take us to Paris.

There, we were invited to the homes of rich kurds who moved in elite circles.

Mind the dog shit!

- Where is the place? - Ask someone the way.

Excuse me, where is the...?

No wonder: I look like Charlie chaplin.

Complain to the red cross.

- You're very welcome! - Hello. Are you well?

- Hello. - Hi. - Hi, there.

- Welcome, please come in. - Hi. - Hi.

I have a surprise for you.

My friend harun shikak, the Iraqi ambassador in Bonn,

has come to meet you.

- It's an honor to meet you. - The honor is all mine.

Pleased to meet you.

- Hi, my name's miran. - My name's giwar.

- Why aren't you eating, miran? - I'm not hungry.

Eat up or you'll never be a sheikh.

You sure can eat a lot.

I want to be a sheikh myself one day.

Good boy, miran! Well done!

Where are you living here?

In a refugee camp.

What's it like there?

Awful.

Noisy, dirty...

We've seen worse.

As soon as I'm working as a composer again,

we'll get out of there.

You'd have it easier as a composer in Germany.

How come?

Nowhere in the world

has so many concert halls, operas and theaters.

They need musicians.

How are the schools there?

Excellent.

And free of charge.

Is there an opera house in Bonn?

Of course. It's the capital.

Look, giwar.

There's the opera house.

They perform stories to music in there.

Shall we go in?

Come on, let's go upstairs.

It's "the rhinegold."

What's "the rhinegold"?

It's the gold that makes you immortal.

And once you have it, you never let it go again.

Where is the gold?

Nobody knows.

Only the three rhinemaidens who guard it.

Be careful not to break it! This is a gift from sheikh harun shikak!

Giwar, come away from there!

Slowly! We have a piano!

It's expensive, mind the corners!

Shirin!

Lunch is ready!

Again.

Dammit!

You good for nothing little shit!

Play it like I showed you!

You're a musician?

- Yes, I'm a composer. - Really?

What do you compose?

A mixture of traditional persian and western classical music.

Why don't you teach your son yourself?

My husband doesn't have the Patience.

I see.

Why say that?

I charge 40 marks an hour.

I'll carry on teaching him.

That's fine.

Would like to you show me what you can do?

Come on.

That's right, with your thumb.

Very good.

Left hand, a minor.

How will we afford it?

We'll find a way.

Very good.

Shall we play it again?

Three, four...

For the kurdish freedom fighters my mother was a heroine.

Shortly after my birth, she got an infection of the womb.

On her way to the nearest town with a hospital,

she was arrested.

My mother's hands were too soft for a villager.

The mullahs made my mother the same offer every day:

"Tell us the freedom fighters' positions and we'll let you go."

But my mother remained silent.

Very good.

I'll see you next week.

- It's my father's premier next week. - Yes, I'll see you there.

Wait.

Get milk and bread.

And get some candy for yourself with the change.

Hey, you! Wait!

- You live here? - Yeah.

Take these cds, I'll pick them up next week.

Hey, you there! Seen a kanak with a bunch of cds?

- Show me. - There's no cds in there.

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