When a Man Comes Home

I want to tell you a story about

a good boy who stuttered like hell.

But first, let's meet his father.

A**holes!

County of whores!

We don't f*** anymore.

He committed suicide

when Sebastian was a boy.

And that's why Sebastian

started stuttering.

His father was a useless artist,

who drank and fornicated

and full of self-pity he decided

to put an end to everything.

Small-minded fascist recruits!

A doctor told me that 85% of all

suiciders regret it at the last moment.

A few lucky survivors

have said so.

This isn't what I wanted.

Oh no.

Hey! Stop it!

No!

So Sebastian's father wasn't

one of the lucky ones.

It devastated the small family.

Infidelity, suicides and details

like that do that. That's how it is.

That's how Aunt Anna

became Uncle Anna.

And Sebastian became the stuttering

son of two mothers.

Horny, queer rails!

Lie still

while I piss on you, dirty bastards.

He was fine with that

he stuttered.

They thought

he was a good boy

who reacted calmly

to not having a father.

In fact, people who reminded him

of his father annoyed him.

Sebastian was mad at him.

And drinkers, liars or adulterers

had to be eliminated.

Sebastian could relax for a short

while. He stuttered a little less.

And on a good day

he could even break out into songs.

As he went along in his solitude

he vowed never

to be a bastard like his father.

NIMBUS FILM PRESENTS

Our story begins the day before

his hometown's 750th anniversary.

This called for a celebration,

so a famous opera singer

a native of the small town

was on his way to perform.

WHEN A MAN COMES HOME

Hey!

Hi.

It's the musicians.

Keep going straight.

When you get to the first roundabout

take the first right

and then the second left.

No, take Mosegyden

and then the first...

Shut up, Peter. Go past...

- Take a right. You shut up.

You're sending them the wrong way.

First message.

- This is mom. We're on our way.

- Lots of kisses.

Uncle says hello.

I have to tell you something,

Sebastian.

It's important that it's only

the two of us. Bye.

Bent, you hunk. How's it going?

- Why the hell are you so happy?

Is... Isn't...

- Isn't there a party soon? That's why.

Cover that gut with a shirt.

- Still living with mommy?

He banged a pig once.

It's true.

Bent's fat. Sebastian is skinny

and engaged. Congratulations.

Hey!

Hi, Claudia! Over here!

- Hi.

Hi, sweet cheeks.

Want to smoke Daddy's pipe?

You're kidding.

- See you.

Nick, she's Sebastian's lady.

What are you thinking?

What do you mean?

- What's up with you?

What I mean is

she's Sebastian's girlfriend.

Isn't it okay, Sebastian?

- No.

You just can't do that.

- Shut up.

Not again, Nick.

Knock it off!

Easy, Nick. Easy.

Stop it!

Sebastian.

Help!

You're strangling me.

We bought...

...sssix boxes...

Come on, Sebastian.

Six kilos of parparsnips and...

Two boxes of peapeapeas.

Ttten...

Enough! This isn't going anywhere.

That's why we're late all the time.

Wa have four boxes of carrots

peas and asparagus. Three boxes.

Two boxes of broad-leaf lettuce.

- No, it's curly lettuce.

Shut up, Peter.

Okay, okay.

You two, go pick him up. The chef.

He's travelled for more than 30 hours

and driven 1250 miles. He never flies.

He's an artist. A truly great one.

Never flies. A truly great artist.

Stop here.

Well done.

Hi.

Welcome.

- Hi.

Oskar Parvo Andersson.

Has the calf arrrived?

- Yes. 48 pounds.

It's raised on full-fat milk

and stood in the shade.

Not even dew has touched it.

- How is it?

It's dead.

He says the calf is dead.

No.

The calf isn't dead.

Everything is alive.

Everything moves and exists.

We eat it, excrete it and eat it again.

We're living compost.

- What's he saying?

The calf isn't dead.

We're just helping it along.

Could I speak to the manager?

Of course. Just wait right here.

Where is Petrovic?

He's sick. It can't come.

What did he say?

- That he's sick.

Sickness on bowels. He's bleating.

Probably diet.

Sickness in bowels. He's bleating.

Probably diet.

He says Petrovic is sick.

Something about his bowels.

And that he'll probably die.

Where are the violinists?

- Problems. We have fine orchestra.

I'm sorry, but you're not

the orchestra we ordered.

Petrovic promised us...

- This is a hotel with violins...

Excuse me, Mr. Lorentz...

- Get them out of here.

Excuse me, Mr. Lorentz.

My name is Maria Wassel.

I'm here for the job.

Stop! I don't have time.

Tell Petrovic that this just isn't on.

- We have nuther kind.

We have nuther kind. Nuther kind.

I can't understand a damn thing.

Out!

This is our big moment.

We'll send the tenor and his wife

on a gastronomical joumey.

It'll be an invasion of shellfsh.

As an accompaniment we'll serve

an inferno of free-range lettuce.

Lollo rosso, friss

Batavian, escarole, white asparagus.

And the calf. Veal fricassee.

Forest mushrooms

fresh herbs, German wine.

Everything subtle and unpretentious.

Under canopies in the palm court.

The guests will be expectant.

Very open, warm and curious.

Put your hands here

and close your eyes.

We swear to push our abilities

to the breaking point.

We swear!

We need more employees.

Fill this out. Are you feeling better?

It's good to keep busy.

I talked to your father.

There's no shame in getting

psychiatric help. Chin up, my girl.

I've been hospitalized once myself.

Twice.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes