Subtitles by explosiveskull
I was always inclined to be an ordinary man.
You're drowning them. You know that?
By tomorrow, beauty will become shite.
You should give these away.
Where is your shame?
Eh? Veggie-killer.
Stand up.
Up.
- And a paper. - Please.
A paper, and this horribly drowned produce.
- You've gotta go. - I'd like the paper, please.
Please, General, go quickly.
Take it. Please.
Go.
You thieving little shit!
Everyone needs a villain,
war criminal, fugitive, most wanted.
Please, I have all labels.
You dropped my fucking vegetables.
Please get down.
And how do you propose I do that?
Do I look like a circus midget?
Jesus, would you?
We've discussed these little walks, yeah?
Yeah, and now you see why I take them.
We're far too compromised.
Then get me a real driver, as I've asked for.
- General, I am a... - You are a pilot, Miro.
You drive stick like a woman. Where the hell's Gannich?
- Vacation with his family, sir. - Now he could drive.
And no offense, but I'm a little sick of your face at this point.
Yes, it's true, that sod you suffocate me with,
matted hair like a dog's ass.
I tire of you.
I want to see other people.
By the way, I know where you're headed.
I see where you're headed.
I've slept in nine beds in six months,
and only one in this direction.
And if they think I'm spending one more night
in that hellhole Tanovich calls home, guess again.
Those children are awful.
They're unhygienic, they're undisciplined.
- You can tell everyone. - We're moving again, General.
- What? - We're on the move.
- Who's this, then? - No one, sir.
You.
The owner is a friend. He's found the space.
An apartment?
- Yeah. - My own?
For six months, possibly longer.
Thank God.
- He's happy to meet us. - Give me the key.
- Sir... - You're not dropping me off
at boarding school, for Christ's sake.
Give me the key, find it myself, thank you.
We'll provide you with supplies.
- Supplies... - You know, essentials.
And who will be making these purchases?
There'll be no need for you to...
Absolutely not. You're a crap shopper, Miro.
Tell them to leave cash at the door. Tell them.
Sir...
Yes?
- Mrs. Boscovich? - Apparently not.
- No. - No.
She was expecting you?
And that's why you let yourself into my apartment?
And you are?
- Tanja. - Tanja.
- The maid. - Ah.
Well, it appears Mrs. Boscovich has broken her lease,
unexpectedly, without telling the maid.
Your bag, please.
And now your clothes.
I don't like surprises.
Please.
Turn around, please.
Slowly.
No tattoos at your age. How dull.
Where are your passions?
Unless you've chosen to cover them up for some reason.
If you'd be kind enough to step into the shower
and rinse thoroughly.
No worries, I won't be joining you.
How's the plumbing?
I trust you know where the towels are.
How much does she pay you?
Good Mrs. Boscovich?
How much did she pay you?
Five hundred... an hour.
I'll pay you more.
What are your skills? What were your chores?
Cleaning and washing.
Show me your hands.
How old are you?
Twenty-six.
Your parents put these hands to work?
My parents are dead.
You come how often?
For Mrs. Boscovich.
- Once each week, Tuesdays. - Oh, I'll need you more.
You have others...
others you see?
Yes.
No more. You work for me now.
I'll need you full-time, as you can see.
A man needs a maid.
I... thank you, sir...
General...
but I think I should go.
But that won't be possible now, will it?
You do have my key, after all, don't you?
So I am yours...
and you'll be mine.
My little secret.
Show me your skills.
Where do you start?
Kitchen, bath, bedroom?
Windows, the windows.
Windows, excellent.
Let's begin.
May I get dressed?
Your hand is shaking.
Do I make you nervous?
Well, you've completely missed the corners.
I trust you'll return for those when it suits you.
Hardly very efficient, are you?
With three minutes a pane, at this rate, you'll be here all...
I'm sorry, I'm not used to being timed.
At 500 dinars an hour, you damn well should be.
Took that poor woman for all she's worth, didn't you?
- Didn't you? - She had no complaints.
But whose fault's that, then?
She lacked leadership.
My men always take to constructive criticism, and they shine.
So, what other skills, then, besides fogging windows?
- You cook? - Cook?
Yes, cook, prepare meals, sustenance.
- No, I don't cook. - At your age?
- I was never taught. - Criminal.
- I trust you eat? - Yes, I eat.
Good.
For me, you'll cook.
First, we shop.
I'm sorry, do you need to pee?
I beg your pardon?
Slow down, you're nervous.
Shouldn't you be?
Because I'm walking in the open? Join the chorus.
You've nothing to fear, you see.
I'm not really here.
At this very moment, I'm hidden in a mountain barracks,
I'm skiing in northern Slovenia,
I'm sunning myself on the Dalmatian Coast,
I'm tending sheep on a Serbian mountaintop,
I'm toasting with Putin in Kiev and in Moscow,
friend of a friend swears he saw me.
I'm everywhere and nowhere.
I am myth.
Three times they've offered me plastic surgery.
Three times, begged me to change my face, this face.
Now, that would be a crime.
They know they'll never catch me, all of them.
They're just guests in our house.
This is our house.
And my friends who waste their hours watching over me
like nervous hens, they're not so trusting.
They're here now, you know.
Yugo, two blocks back, no front plates?
Black Mini, ahead, at 2:00.
They must be dying.
How did he manage so quickly?
And such an attractive young thing, eh?
Come, I'll show ya.
Run!
Ha!
I'm sorry, that never gets old.
First lesson.
Royals, always, and no fucking filters.
- You're still smoking? - Oh, so you do know something of me.
How about that, then?
A heart that's too large. The joke's on them.
Smoke? God, yes. Old Solovek, finest officer in our military history.
Only cigarettes could kill that man, nothing else. Get a paper.
Phew.
Please, for my son.
Of course.
Thank you.
This color, this shape. For this we fight wars.
Gorgeous vegetable, raped by the Turks,
boiling away every last vestige of nature's goodness.
They slaughter their cuisine, you know that?
Read. Bottom third, on the right.
Don't think, read.
Um...
Read the words.
I'm damn well dyslexic, so if you don't want to sit here
all night while I flail, save us both some time, go on.
"As key members of the European Union prepare together,
and international pressure mounts..."
Ugh, this is reading?
Come on, with inflection, give it some life.
"Government officials today conceded that
the country's effort to join the European Union had been
hampered by the failure to capture and deliver
into custody General..."
Oh, can't they use a different photo, please?
"Indicted for war crimes and crimes against humanity
by a Hague tribunal in connection with the massacre
of thousands of fighting-age men and boys
in the closing days of the war under his command.
Government officials continue to reassure
the international community that every effort
is being made to ascertain the whereabouts
of the fugitive military leader whom they insist
- must be well hidden." - Ha!
Hello, hello!
Fucking cowards can't stand up on their own two feet.
Look at me. Look how well hidden.
As if they're not paying for all this themselves.
"The United States this week officially
raised its offer to $10 million U.S.
for any parties assisting in the location
and capture of the general."
They'll all be out now, cockroaches.
"Widely reviled by the international community,
though still considered a hero by some of his own countrymen.
Government leaders, while acknowledging
the country's deepening economic isolation,
refuse to speculate as to a date
when the general's capture and arrest might be expected."
Yeah, let them check their calendars.
That should take a fucking year or so.
God forbid they should ever have to make a decision.
What is this country of yours?
A thousand curtseys. Here's some allowance, now go to your room.
Is that it? After all of this?
You say nothing.
A generation of young people, saying nothing.
All right, then you are my silent witness.
Witness this:
I will never hide.
And I will never be taken.
Lesson two: we cook.
Go, maid.
The peasant's feast,
four centuries of life and culture,
distilled into one dish.
My dying day, I shall eat this meal,
taste my home, and be done.
How will you ever make a suitable bride?
What makes you assume I'll do the cooking?
And how do you know I'm not already married?
I've seen your hands.
I'll never wear a ring.
Not dressed like that, you won't.
What's wrong with this?
Nothing that can't be fixed.
So this life of yours, these 26 lengthy years,
the highlights, please.
First chapter: you were born, of course.
Where?
Here.
City?
City girl, of course.
And your parents?
From where do they hail?
- Same. - City folks as well.
Now, that's convenient.
And their families?
Surely your people come from somewhere,
a village with their name on it?
- I never knew my grandparents. - Really?
And your parents, you say?
I told you.
Yes, yes, you did. Ah.
How did they perish?
Car accident.
Together?
How unfortunate.
And I must say, bit unusual.
- How so? - Well, we're not the worst drivers here.
A crack-up here and there, after the bars close, yes, of course.
But both of them, just like that?
That's catastrophic.
Leaving you all alone. At what age?
- Seventeen. - Of course.
Old enough to fend for yourself.
Independence.
And school, why aren't you in school?
My parents died.
Money, yes, of course, always money.
And so we witness the birth of a maid.
And friends.
- No friends? - No time.
Mrs. Boscovich, no doubt, slave-driving bitch.
And boys.
There must be boys, ripe specimen like yourself.
No boys, no friends, no family. Tanja, my silent maid,
I'm afraid you are as invisible as I am.
We're ghosts.
Lesson three.
Lesson four.
Five, please.
Very good. Very good, maid.
Lesson six. Six is the dog's bollocks.
Six is the sport of kings.
Six will show what you're really made of,
your fire, your quality of mercy.
Never met a military man who didn't like the game.
Napoleon himself loved playing
simultaneous games with his marshals.
And who do you think won, and he was just a short fuck.
You are much taller than Napoleon.
Come on, I even made my enemies play,
and they respected me for it.
I know, you're thinking, you're thinking, well, sure,
fuckers let you win, otherwise you'd shoot them.
Not true, not true.
Play to win, yes, but I respect my opponents,
even those blue-hat NATO fucks, God love 'em.
So friend or foe, you take me on.
- Take me on, damn it. - I can't.
- What? - I don't know how to play.
- Try. - I can't.
Fight, damn it!
Worthless, worthless, you are.
Go!
If you won't fight, go.
What, are you deaf as well? Go.
- What, you'd let me? - Let you?
Are you a fucking hostage?
Haven't you read? I don't take hostages.
Go, out of my sight!
But I expect you back, maid.
You're mine now.
Worthless, but mine.
Music from the Native Suns,
guests of tomorrow evening's
Dance of Traditions at Baron's Hall.
Doors open at 7:00.
You really can't cook, can you?
It's fucking dreadful.
Hm.
Good morning.
You'll need that.
So, which of us is the most surprised?
What choice did I have?
You kidnapped Mrs. Boscovich.
And I assume you pay in cash?
Last night...
You didn't ask one question, not one.
I know a thousand journalists would cut off
their right testicle just for the chance, both, in fact.
Yet you...
So this is the state of youth today,
complete disinterest?
Or is it fear?
Are you afraid of me?
- It's really none of my concern. - My actions?
And yet, aren't you the least bit curious?
Not in the slightest?
Is he, in fact, the devil?
It's none of my concern.
No questions. No judgment.
I don't know if I believe you.
You see, I...
I've no such luxury.
I'm old, and I do have questions.
I want answers, maid.
Show me your life.
You've seen mine in all its glory.
Your turn.
The life of a city girl.
Today, I am your pupil.
God, were we ever so unappealing?
Which one were you, where is Tanja in this mix?
Nowhere. I hid.
Empty classrooms, second floor, mostly, until lunch was over.
- Hid? - With a book.
Why?
What, you blind? Look at them.
Hid, every day?
That's a lot of books. You were smart.
Too smart. Why do you think I hid?
And where was history made?
Where did we kiss our first boy?
He kissed me, over by the fountain.
Drawn out of hiding, were we?
Mm, tactical error. I was thirsty.
He never made that mistake again.
What was his name?
Mr. Antonovich.
The librarian.
- Pigs. - Yes, you are.
Surely other kisses have followed.
We're not all perverted librarians.
No?
You've never had a boyfriend, have you, maid?
Define "boyfriend."
Someone you share a meal with between fucking.
At 26...
Oh, we do have to get to the bottom of this, don't we?
Where did you bleed, the first time?
First floor. My form room seat.
I wouldn't leave that seat all morning.
- They had to carry me out. - We weren't rejoicing?
Oh, Jesus, the fantasies you men have.
Uh, God, no, it's a horror.
My daughter found me in a bunker,
fifth hour of maneuvers.
This corporal comes racing out to me
with a field phone, four radio transfers.
They tracked me down, I assume the war has started.
And there she is, that voice.
"I couldn't find Mum."
My men got very drunk that day.
They still don't know why.
My father made me clean the seat and apologize.
Most men would. We're terrified of the mysteries of young women,
absolute terror.
One day we're bathing little girls, cheek-to-cheek,
and the next, the door is locked for good.
I took her shopping after that day,
to quell my fears.
Mine wouldn't be caught dead.
What a shame.
How else to pierce the veil, learn your mysterious ways?
Show me home.
Your home. Please, home is next.
Do you know how long it's been since a young woman
invited me into her apartment?
I didn't invite you.
Tell me this is temporary.
It's not.
I've seen detention cells with more character.
Well, you would know.
Turn around, please. There's no door.
My God.
Would it kill you to hang up a picture?
- Of what? - Need we say more?
No wonder you don't have company.
You'll cripple them. May I fix this?
No, you may not.
For such a big reader, your library is, how shall I say, nonexistent.
Books take up space.
Yes, and give away our secrets.
Your mother wouldn't approve.
Oh, my mother never approved.
I'm suffocating. I need a cigarette.
Take us away, maid.
Go on, maid.
Here you go. Thank you.
Oh, shit.
Shit.
- Where did you go? - Dressing stall in the back.
Collect what you find, go straight to the cashier.
I've nothing smaller.
I may be invisible, but let's not push our luck, shall we?
Go.
Your father would be so proud.
Indulge me.
Change, please.
Nothing that can't be fixed.
So now we do what with these?
Why, now we pierce the veil.
Men are invisible in the presence of beauty. You'll see.
Age before beauty, I'm afraid, when bladders call.
I shall return.
Better than pork, isn't it?
Gentlemen, my maid.
If you'll excuse us.
Well, this explains your cooking.
You're not mine, are you? You're theirs.
- No. - Well, God knows you're not a maid.
Those piss-poor skills. Why?
- Maid. - What?
They knew you'd never have me. You'd never take protection.
Not if it wasn't on your terms.
Well, at least they know me by now, that's encouraging.
The paper, what we read, it's all true.
The noose is tightening.
So they send you.
- They thought I'd... - Speak.
They thought I'd keep you interested enough
to stay off the street.
So which are you, the actress or a whore?
Not that both aren't possible.
Let's see those skills then, eh?
Let's see just how good a whore they sent me, huh?
No.
- Let's see you keep me occupied. - No. No.
Let's... oh, oh.
Heart.
No, no.
- Oh... - No!
I'm sorry, you can't..
That's right, and you're gonna help him.
Cardiomyopathy.
- He's got an enlarged... - I know what cardiomyopathy is.
Then do something about it before it goes into full arrest.
- I can't. Uh... - You're gonna make sure that this patient
walks out of here tonight, and as much as you'll be dying
to open your mouth, you're not gonna say a word,
because God knows...
Milo Begovich won't want the world to know
he conspired to keep a wanted war criminal
in excellent health, now will he?
You know how many lovers Comrade Tito took at one time
at his peak, if you'll pardon the expression?
I read this in a book.
Fourteen. Eh? Fourteen.
I've never taken one.
And I will never harm you.
No, you won't.
- That was an apology. - I heard you.
You could have died last night.
Never. My maid wouldn't allow it.
You are mine, after all.
A monogamist and a romantic.
Hardly fits the bill, does it?
My first tour in Italy, I was newly married,
really missing my wife.
Wanted to send her a letter from the ship,
so I put the letter in an envelope,
addressed it to her, I put the envelope in a bottle,
along with $10 and 10 cigarettes.
The money and the cigarettes were for whoever
found the bottle and sent my message of love to her.
So, as we were passing through the Stretto di Messina,
I flung the bottle into the sea.
She got the letter less than three weeks later,
along with $10 and 10 cigarettes.
You gotta love the Italians.
Where is your wife?
Anywhere I'm not, apparently.
Our home, I assume. Actually, I have no idea at this point.
She won't speak to me.
Quite a pair, aren't we?
I can't keep a relationship, you're too scared to have one.
Oh, please, allow me to save you years of therapy:
Daddy's dead, you hide for a living.
Boringly textbook, my dear.
Blink, and you'll be 60.
But then you know all this, don't you,
if you're sitting here with me.
Whom are we kidding?
Whereas you, you're just full of surprises.
You don't have a penis, do you?
You certainly did last night,
and realized I needed a babysitter.
- General... - Who trained you?
You know I can't tell you that.
Really, that risky now, am I?
We don't wanna make it any more complicated for you.
"We?" "We?"
How old are you again? Already it's "we?"
- They own you that quickly? - No one owns me.
No, you choose to erase your life,
age 26, change an old men's diapers.
However I can serve.
Serve. Please, we all serve ourselves, period.
So this is how you avenge your parents?
Car accident.
- How did it happen? - Their car was bombed.
Oh, well, in a car then, anyway.
That part was true.
They were with us.
And now you take their place.
Balance is restored, cycle continues, to what end?
What are your hopes?
My hopes?
A young woman trades her life away,
surely she has reasons besides hiding from boys.
Security for our people, our home restored.
Aren't they yours?
Be very careful, my girl.
I'm fine, thank you.
You think your good service protects you?
You have any idea what I've done in service to my country?
- I can share some details. - That's not necessary.
Really, still not curious about the level of skill
we acquired in annihilating the human form?
- The speed, the volume? - Please, don't.
That tribunal would blush if they knew
just how far off they were, the real numbers.
I mean, if we're gonna get it right,
- let's get it right, people. - Stop.
And for that service, that level of dedication,
why, I should only assume
my country's perpetual gratitude, no?
This fine lifestyle.
Be very, very careful.
And now, maid, if you'll do me the kind service
of helping me off this fucking bed.
Who was this man, to have such a daughter?
There's something else for you, I forgot,
in the living room, on the floor.
Thought I recognized that shape in your apartment.
Matter of fact, it was the only thing I recognized.
It was yours, right?
Not a weapon.
From Mum and Dad, I presume.
Would you?
- No. - Why not?
I don't play in front of others.
You're not in front of others.
You're utterly alone, remember? I don't exist.
Please.
Do you own a car, ma'am?
Hey, for all I know, you're a cabbie.
Nothing would surprise me at this point.
- And why do we need a car? - Time for a trip.
Yes, that's exactly what they don't want you doing right now.
- Precisely. - Your heart won't stand
- another round like last night. - All the more reason.
The noose is tightening. Your words, verbatim.
Well, then, there's no time to waste.
I'm still your employer.
I've stated my desires.
So, maid, make it happen.
And where are we going?
You wanted a car.
Yes, and you've taken Miro's, my driver.
He won't be needing him now. Go.
Same rocks, same hills, different name.
Idiocy.
You'll never know your true homeland.
Ethnic division, dirty little secret, Christian, Turk.
Before all this, nobody gave a shite who their neighbor was.
They just were, it worked.
Then the breakup, out come the maps,
lines pulled out of their asses.
Suddenly we're "ethnic," divided.
No different, just with guns at each other's heads
fighting over map creases we never knew existed.
- At the end, we eliminated... - I eliminated.
Don't take credit where credit's not due, it's unbecoming.
Wasn't the battle already lost when the order was given?
Don't be coy. I gave the order.
Go on, then, finish it.
The massacre's what you meant, isn't it?
God, you're just like my daughter.
They polluted the lot of you.
Massacre. Numbers are irrelevant.
It was a deposit on the future.
How dare you judge me?
Is that why your parents died, so you could judge my actions?
- I'm simply trying... - I could throw you out of this car right now for treason.
Well, they weren't alive to explain it, so forgive me.
Doesn't reflect so well on you, then, does it?
Throw yourself into a mission you're clueless about,
just to figure out who the hell you are.
I'm only asking the question a country
of young people don't understand.
I owe them nothing.
They owe me.
All of you.
Yeah, go on, drive, drive. Yeah, make yourself useful.
Can you please tell me where we're going?
You're the bookworm, you tell me.
In the spring of '42,
the General was born in the simple village of...
- Brusnica. - Brava.
- We're... - Going home.
- Unprotected. - Whatever do you mean? I've got my maid.
- You've never been back. - God, no, far too dangerous.
- Please tell me why now. - I have a ride.
Well, I said my wife was there,
but you know, I don't even know whether that's true.
Communication, the first casualty of war.
Or maybe that's just a bullshit excuse.
When the first fight broke out and I was shipped north,
my daughter was just starting graduate school.
Talking to her then, whoa, that was tough.
And trust me, it had nothing to do with combat.
Young people never wanna talk to your parents, do you?
Why should she be any different?
And eventually, the only communication she had
was what she read about me in the morning paper.
News...
You're too young to remember when news became entertainment,
good guys, bad guys.
Suddenly, the whole fucking thing's a bad Western,
and everyone wants a villain.
A melodrama right there, on the nightly news,
and hooray, we need a villain.
It's casting, the whole thing's just casting.
And guess who plays the villain?
She's supposed to hear all this,
a young woman, good, sweet young woman.
She's supposed to swallow all this and survive.
Suicide...
They killed her, they took her,
every last one of them.
The West, the media, the merchants of shite.
Then they took her funeral, which meant, of course,
I couldn't get near it, couldn't bury my own daughter.
And that unforgivable fact took my marriage.
So you tell me, which is the more tragic?
That after all this, we neither won nor lost the war,
or that 10 years on, the homeland's biggest hero
has no home left to speak of?
Take a right up ahead.
Hungry?
You can't be serious.
Here? It's not even open.
It's always open.
Do you not see where we are?
Twenty kilometers from my village.
Thank you.
When I was young, that woman knew
every stupid move I made on this road, at this table.
Now she'd never forgive me.
The good memories die first.
If you'll excuse me.
You know we can't stay long.
Oh, um...
0-6-4-2-6-4-6-1-9-3.
Yeah, a local call.
Hello? Hello?
Hello?
Thank you.
Now we go back.
- What? - Back.
We came, we saw.
- Just drive. - No.
- I'll take the car. - It's a suicide.
- It's my right. - You have no rights.
You lost those years ago.
You're a... a fugitive, you're a responsibility.
You're here by the grace of a handful of loyal friends
who have put their families and lives at risk to protect you
and feed you and nurse you, and you have done nothing
but shit on every last one of them.
Now, I'm sorry for your many losses,
but this is what is: We go back.
Leave me.
I can't do that.
Why? Why, if I'm such a fucking burden?
Do you think those idiots would actually try and take me here?
It's too obvious, they don't do obvious.
Tanja, my beloved maid...
all that you see here I lost many years ago
in service to my country.
I don't ask for pity.
How can I? I'm nothing now.
What harm can it do to let a ghost wander?
- Get down. - Oh, you too?
Stay down.
Fuck me, how do we do this?
- Follow my words. - What?
I guide, you drive. Slow down.
First place ahead, market on the left.
Old buggers hanging around outside, right?
- Turn there. - Turn?
Right.
- And? - Straight.
Now, the road's gonna curve.
Curve...
now.
Old Ganovich place overhead on the right.
Should be laundry day.
End of the block, building on the corner.
- Police station. - Fuck me.
Take the turn.
- Now wait. - What?
Almost there.
Now, just up on the right, café with a green sign.
- Café? - Yeah, old drunk on the bench,
- definitely asleep by now. - No.
- What do you mean, "no?" - Nothing.
- It's gone? - There's nothing there.
- It's empty, it's... - It...
What should I do?
Stop the car.
Come on, now.
Just over the hill.
Drive.
Bottom of the hill, park there.
Five minutes.
Five minutes, and we go.
You know we can't do that.
Do not take this away.
And watch it end here?
How does that help her?
Never ask a father that.
She'll know.
You'll stay in the car, in this car,
and not move an inch unless I say so. Is that clear?
Are you out of your fucking mind?
I know, I'm sorry.
Give me your gun. Give me your gun.
Subtitles by explosiveskull