Kiss Me You Fucking Moron (Kyss meg for faen i helvete)

KISS ME, YOU FUCKING MORON

Why am I here?

I don't know.

Maybe because everything inside me is liquid.

And I want to be whole again.

I don't know.

Maybe because I need your help.

To move on, I mean.

When I don't want to.

It's as if there's nothing inside me but small, shattered fragments.

I told him so the last time.

I said maybe he shouldn't return if he was only going to leave.

He walks down the final steps and out the door.

Then nothing but silence.

Thank you.

Okay. Did you write the text yourself?

Yes.

Nice text.

Thank you.

How old are you?

Seventeen.

Almost eighteen.

Right.

I know this is what I want.

I'm afraid you're a bit young.

We're looking for someone with experience.

You might not have enough experience.

Here's the star.

Tale! How did it go?

Not too well.

No?

But what about your lovely text?

What did they say? Didn't they like it?

They said I needed more experience.

That I was too young.

I didn't even get to the second round.

Oh, my darling!

But you...

You're still really good. She's really good, right?

My baby.

I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed.

I've longed for you.

Done everything I can to make you see who I really am.

How hard is it supposed to be anyway?

I've thought about you

as I lay all alone in my doghouse at night.

But now I want you to be mine.

Do you want to be my owner?

Daddy rabbit says I can't play with you, cause you're a dog.

We can't get married.

You even peed in our carrot garden.

I like honey, baby.

I like carrots.

I like bones!

Yes, he does!

I like to eat bananas.

Na, na, bananarama.

I like hay, that's what I say.

Every single day.

And Leirfjord is the best, and Leirfjord...

Isn't it Leirfjord?

Fuck this. I can't wear this cap.

Huh? Why not?

I look like a cow giving birth to me.

Lock up when you leave, will you?

Okay.

Hi.

May I have a bottle of wine?

Yeah.

Well, what do you think?

Will the critics slaughter me?

No, it's nice.

You think so?

It really hit me in the guts.

Do any photography? Art student?

No, I'm an actor.

Me too.

Well, it's just amateur theatre.

Mainly revues and so on.

Right, well...

I mean, if you want a challenge,

all you have to do is go for Jon Fosse.

World-famous playwright. Written over thirty plays.

A contemporary Ibsen.

Just a bit sexier than that.

Yeah, I've heard of him.

Lars?

Alcohol?

You see who he's with?

He looks familiar.

He's an actor.

Lars Nykvist.

He's played in everything worth seeing lately.

He could play Hamlet chewing a dildo and still win an Oscar.

"We haven't seen each other for ages. Now we meet here,"

"in a gloomy autumn, in a churchyard."

"And right after I've thought about you, longed for you."

"When I lie in bed, or on the sofa,"

"I can feel your presence."

"You lie close to me. I put my arms around you."

"It's true. I've often wondered whether you can tell"

"that you're lying close to me, I mean."

"Can you?"

It's super nice.

But isn't it a bit depressing?

Churchyard, New Norwegian.

It can hardly get any worse.

No, I agree.

Who's written it?

Jon Fosse.

Don't you know who Jon Fosse is?

He's a contemporary Ibsen.

Translated into over forty languages.

He's won more than thirty major awards.

Commander of the Order of St. Olav.

National Order of Merit Knight.

We're really pretty lousy.

Could we even stage a play by him?

Do we really wanna start all over?

From scratch?

No thanks.

I'm the prompter. My job would be a lot harder.

It'll be okay with a bit more work.

It's not that what we've done before was bad.

But it's old news.

Wouldn't it be cool to do something new?

We're playing for kids who hate drama.

That's not the point.

It's about challenging ourselves.

Nora's wearing a freaking cow on her head.

You can do better.

We all have more to give than we've given so far.

Imagine, Jon Fosse!

I'm sure it'll be absolutely magical.

We could get an experienced actor to direct us.

And it's damn sexy.

Yeah, it's real sexy.

Do you wanna be sexy?

Yeah.

Lars Nykvist?

Yep.

I'm Tale Christensen, and I represent the Urias amateur theatre group.

We're staging a play by Jon Fosse, "Fall Dream".

We were going to...

Autumn.

Huh?

"Autumn Dream."

If you runts wanna stage Fosse, God himself, you should,

and this is just a suggestion, try to get the title right.

We need someone to help us. An actor.

That's out of the question.

But let me finish. We need someone to challenge us.

You're a great actor.

One of the best.

What do I care? Find someone else.

But there is no one else.

Hello?

Hello?

Hey, there are lots of great lines in it.

"No, this is awkward. Oh dear. You mustn't say everything."

"The worst thing I know is when people are so free, so grand,"

"and talk about everything."

Man: "I agree completely."

Okay. Hey...

You gonna read the whole play?

I'll go on until you change your mind.

I'm not gonna change my mind!

Why are you here? What do you want from me? Can't you just leave me alone?

Go home!

"Then you were there, with your love and your death." Pause. Looks at her.

"I've missed you. It's true." Woman:

"I've missed you too." Pause. Man:

"But we don't know each other really."

Have you understood a single word?

Yes, it's...

Shut up. Don't even answer. This is just silly.

Tell me why I'd come here, turn my life upside down,

to stage a play with you and your creepy little friends? Why?

And don't give me that look. You won't melt my heart.

Now run on home to mom and dad.

She'd a few tears cause life ain't fair.

I need a drink. Sit here if you want.

But what about for art?

Oh, art.

Sexy art.

Why don't you stage a revue like everyone else?!

Johannes?

My man. What's happening?

Here. Have a sip.

Thanks.

Come on, don't be shy.

I should get back to the others.

No, come on.

It's party time.

Have another sip. Chill out. It's my birthday.

Which means you're fucked, and all hell is about to break loose. Right?

Drink!

Look who's here.

Let's say hello. Come on!

No, forget it.