Voyeur (Abel)

Put those things away. -Why?

No binoculars at Christmas breakfast. Put them away!

Give them here!

Come along boys, no bickering. -I'm not bickering.

No, I'm bickering! -Set a good example for once.

Let your son set a good example for once.

Is he only my son all of a sudden? -Aren't I your son?

You don't take after me, at any rate. Victor, how can you say that?

Your eyes, your hair-lines, your walks...

That's not what I mean.

He means that I haven't got a single good quality; and he has.

Is that what you mean? -Yes, that's what I mean.

With those good qualities he became an admysteryiator.

Administrator, and I'm not an administrator.

Your father is sub-manager.

Oh, I thought he was an admysteryiator. Administrator!

Are you sure about that? I still think it's...

Administrator!

We haven't wished each other Merry Christmas yet.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

And let's for once try to have Christmas breakfast...

...without any arguments. -But there aren't any arguments.

No, I'm just wishing us a Merry Christmas breakfast without arguments.

Then there will be an argument.

Why must you bloody-well reverse everything?

I'm putting things straight.

Straight to you, imbicile!

Stop it.

Now there is an argument. Because you accentuated it.

Is that so surprising? Every Christmas breakfast I can remember...

...has been permeated with discord.

Because up till now you've said at the beginning of every Christmas breakfast...

...with that Christmas-breakfast look in your eyes:

"Let's for once try to have a Christmas breakfast...

...without any arguments."

And every year you manage with those nasty wolfish eyes of yours...

...to completely poison the atmosphere.

Hey, did you hear that? He's just asking for an argument.

You mustn't try and push things to extremes, Victor.

I say, the salmon is delicious.

Isn't it? Shrimps the whole time. I thought let's have salmon.

I've never been a one for shrimps. He always wants shrimps.

What?

I don't even like shrimps, you're the one who always wants shrimps.

Dove, who is it that always wants shrimps?

Dove?

Your father is right.

So I'm lying?

So I'm lying?!

I'm not saying that. But you did always want shrimps.

So I'm lying then!

Say I'm lying.

You're lying.

Now, that's heaflenings I must say.

Your own mother calling you a liar.

You're ganging up together, I knew it, against me.

Why do I still live here?

Because you're an imbicile who doesn't dare to go outside.

We want to have a serious talk with you.

Your father's got a plan.

You'll soon be thirty one. -Thirty two.

Tomorrow we're going to the dunes. -A quiet, secluded spot.

You mustn't think anything more of it, we're just going out.

Fresh air's good for you.

We're going in the car, we won't see another soul.

And what about those gin-traps?

I'll walk on ahead and beat the ground with a stick.

Yeah, and then of course we'll get lost.

I know exactly what will happen.

We won't get lost, Abel. Your father's taking a compass.

Your mother's making a bag full of food.

Nothing can happen to us.

What about stray bullets?

There are hunters in the dunes, you know.

How often hav you read that: "Man hit by stray bullet"?

There's no hunting in the dunes, is there?

Of course not, just a few rabbit-snares, that's all.

Right, and who sets them?

Poachers, that's who. They're all inbred.

They go stark raving mad if anyone ventures onto their hunting-grounds.

D'you know what? We'll take a guide with us.

And two bearers, and guns and ammunition...

...and a first-aid kit, and beads.

And a mosquito-net and a sextant.

We're not going into the bloody jungle!

There's nothing wrong.

Just answer the psychiatrisfs questions.

Psychiatrist?

I'm not retarded, am I? -That's for the psychiatrist to decide.

Doctor van Boven, this is Abel.

Abel, act normally.

Doctor, don't be misled. This is just play-acting.

What's your name, lad?

For God's sake Abel, stop that nonsense!

Doctor, you understand that he's just putting this on?

Yes, I understand. I'm not retarded. -No, of course not.

The question is, what is the cause?

Oh, I can tell you right away.

Please sit down.

How long is it since Abel has been outside?

Two years. -Ten years.

And for ten years he's been trying to cut flies in half.

When Abel was born, where there any complications?

Yes.

Where do you get that idea from? -Well, it was a long, painful delivery.

Abel was blue, he had difficulty breathing.

What are you talking about?

You were there, at the birth?

Yes, of course, yes.

Well, I was in the corridor, but I know exactly what happened.

The first few weeks he had signs of slight paralysis.

And around the age of fourteen eczema in his armpits.

According to our doctor, the result of nervousness.

Now, this is going beyond all reason!

Please, admit that none of this is true!

I don't want to draw any conclusions straight away.

But I can't help feeling that the root of the problem...

...a major pan of it anyway, lies with the father.

What?

Yes, look, you're ashamed of Abel.

Wouldn't you be ashamed of a son like that?

That's got nothing to do with it.

The other pad...

...the root of the problem, lies with the mother.

You see, you over-protect your son.

Both your attitudes as parents are in conflict...

...and because of this, the lad finds himself in a vacuum.

Before we get around to Abel...

...it would be advisable for you to come to a mutual agreement...

...within your relationship.

I'll be hearing from you.

Well, that's that.

You're rushing things, sir. I'm not used to...

Being made love to? -Being made love to...

So brazenly. -So brazenly.

Again!

You're rushing things, sir. I'm not used to being...

This is such a rotten line.

That rotten line encapulates how Maggie is feeling.

Because Maggie is feeling so uncomfortable...

...she expresses herself in a likewise way.

And that's why, in this situation, it's a good line.

And something else, when Victor tries to kiss you...

...you've got to show much more bewilderment.

Imagine that you've never been kissed by a man before.

And Victor, over-play it, eh? Make it difficult for Christine.

We can always water it down later.

Bewilderment, Christine. Disgust, disgust!

What is it now?! -I just don't feel this, you know.

Do we have to watch this for much longer?...

This is an impofland moment.

We're going to carry on until it's right.

And Christine, relax!

The mere thought of a kiss repulses you.

I'm nearly thirty two, and I've still never watched television.

We don't need Victor anyway to buy a television.

Every month your father gives a fixed sum of money...

...and at the end of the month it's all gone.

I know that. Look at how we eat.

The whole time it's... salmon, oysters, lobsters.

Four course meals.

And all those new clothes, new shoes.

When summer's on the way I get new clothes.

What use are they to me?

You stop buying new clothes.

We down the meals. Within a month, we'll have a television.

THE NAKED GIRLS

No hors-dbeuvre? -Didn't get round to it today.

De Beer has been sacked. -De Beer?

How often have I mentioned that name? It must be a thousand times.

I don't know de Beer. -A colleague.

What's this? -A fish finger.

A fish finger?

What kind of a hideous little fish finger is this?

Tell us about de Beer. -Yes.

He's been sacked. -Because?

Because he was carrying on with Merkelbach's wife.

Merkelbach?

Yes, Merkelbach. Who could be that? -No idea.

Come now, Abel. Your father's boss.

I say, what's going on? Only one vegetable?

The people behind the Iron Curtain...

...would lick their lips at the sight of a fish finger.

And those people work the whole day long.

They go into the steelfactory before it's light...

...and don't come out until it's dark again.

If you ever see a photograph of Russians...

...in a park, then they all have little eyes.

Enough!

What do you think of that then?

Of what? -A secret affair like that?

Well, as long as it's a secret affair, I've nothing against it.

How old is she? -Who?

Merkelbach's wife. -Thirty eight or so.

Still fertile as well.

I don't understand de Beer.

If you wanted to have a secret affair...

...then you'd choose someone infertile wouldn't you?

What if she got pregnant?