Attenberg

Synopsis: Marina, 23, is growing up with her architect father in a prototype factory town by the sea. Finding the human species strange and repellent, she keeps her distance from it. Instead she observes it through the songs of Alan Vega's Suicide, the mammal documentaries of Sir David Attenborough, and the sexual education lesson she receives from her only friend, Bella. A stranger comes to town and challenges her to a foosball duel, on her own table. Her father meanwhile is preparing for his exit from the 20th century, which he considers to be 'overrated'. Caught between the two men and her collaborator Bella, Marina investigates the wondrous mystery of the human fauna.
Genre: Drama, Romance
Production: Strand Releasing
  9 wins & 13 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.2
Metacritic:
73
Rotten Tomatoes:
79%
NOT RATED
Year:
2010
95 min
$12,540
Website
248 Views


Did you like it?

I've never had something wriggling

in my mouth before.

How does my tongue feel?

Like a slug.

It's disgusting.

You have to breathe, or you'll choke.

Should I open again?

Half open.

That's it.

Okay, get in there.

You're all slobbery.

I'm going to throw up.

If it's not wet in there,

it won't work.

Stick out your tongue.

Rub it against mine.

Breathe through your nose.

How do people do it?

Do you want to learn, or not?

No.

Open.

No.

Open.

No.

What do you mean, no? Kiss me.

Leave me alone. I'm all out of spit.

Some other time.

See, you had spit after all.

Check the tires at the gas station.

Pump them up if they need it.

You've got a passenger today.

An engineer.

Arrives at 10. You'll drive him

around for a while.

Sure thing.

Your dad, is he doing okay?

We started his treatments.

They admitted him?

No, we go back and forth.

Something like huge prickly-pear trees.

Except instead of prickly pears,

they were hung with pricks.

What do you mean?

Big, small, medium-sized...

wrinkly...

erect and milky and juicy ones.

Some bent to the left,

some to the right,

some with foreskins, others without.

Trees with pricks. Prick-trees.

Some were small and shriveled,

but swayed slightly...

as if they were breathing.

Did you taste them?

The hard, juicy ones.

A strange taste.

Like bitter almond.

And an intense smell of spunk.

What is "spunk"?

Semen stink.

What's that like?

Like a thousand men jerked off in

the same spot.

And you like that?

You know, it's one of

those things you like,

but at the same time

makes you feel guilty.

I don't know...

Seeing genitals in your sleep

is a bad omen.

It terrifies me.

Because you're ignorant, that's why.

They're like those animals you love,

in those documentaries by

Sir Attenberg.

Sir David Attenborough.

They're like little animals too.

They act with a mind of their own,

it's just that they're

attached to men's bodies.

Do you ever imagine me naked?

No, never.

A father's mind represses such

thoughts about his own daughter.

Is it taboo?

There's a reason why we

mammals have taboos.

It ensures the propagation of our

species, without defects.

I have imagined you naked.

Shame on you.

It bothers me as an image,

but I don't reject it.

I prefer to think of you...

as a man without a penis.

You're right.

Some things should stay taboo.

- To the hotel?

- Right.

Can you be here tomorrow

morning at eight?

I don't work tomorrow morning.

Only the afternoon.

Four o'clock at the factory, then?

- Okay.

- Bye.

Bye.

You smell like bleach.

And you smell like gasoline.

Eat your pot-roast, mommy's girl.

I'm not a mommy's girl.

I don't have a mom.

Daddy's girl, then.

How's Spyros?

You mean Mister Spyros.

It annoys me when you

become so familiar.

Bella, you little slut.

Do you want more bread?

There's a lookout sitting

on that tree...

and he's already seen me.

There is more...meaning, and...

mutual understanding, in

exchanging a glance with a gorilla,

than any other animal I know.

And so if ever there

was a possibility of...

escaping the human condition,

and living imaglnatively...

in another creature's world,

It must be with the gorilla.

You still have her photos.

You were good together.

Keep this.

And this.

And this.

And this, and that's it.

If I drive too fast, tell me.

Okay.

Eye to eye

Hand in hand

My heart will be happy

Without fear of tomorrow

There will be a day

When my soul

Is without sorrow

The day when

I will also have

Someone who loves me

Like the boys and girls my age

I will soon know what love is

Like the boys and girls my age

I wonder when that day will come

Eye to eye

Hand in hand

They head off in love

Without fear of tomorrow

Yes, but I walk the streets alone

My soul in sorrow

Yes, but I walk alone

Because no one loves me

My days, like my nights

Are the same in every way

Without joy and filled with boredom

With no one to whisper

"I love you" in my ear

All the boys and girls my age

Make plans together for their future

All the boys and girls my age

Will know what it means

to love someone...

Goal.

You know babifoot.

"Babifoot"?

Foosbal .

Goal.

Goal.

- Bye.

- Bye.

Will you ever get married?

I don't think so.

Don't you like men?

Not particularly.

I don't blame you.

You don't like them either?

- I prefer women.

- Me too.

Not that way, not like you.

I don't desire them.

I have never desired.

I've never done it with anyone.

I find it disgusting.

Repulsive.

A thing inside me, moving in and out

like a piston...jamming me...

I refuse to imagine you've got

one of those things too.

I don't have one of those things.

Never did.

You really are an extraterrestrial...

just as I thought.

Nutless.

Gutless.

Heartless.

Fartless.

Snotless.

Spitless.

Witless.

Have you ever desired anyone,

since mom?

Yes.

Have you done it?

What?

You know...

That. The "piston."

Yes.

You disappoint me.

- A little compassion.

- I hate compassion.

I'd like you to start living

along with others.

That's not how you taught me to live.

Why are you asking me to do it now?

What are you doing here?

I had a passenger.

Want to come up?

For a beer?

I've got to take the Volvo back.

Just for a little bit.

What's your name?

Marina.

You like Suicide.

Yes. A lot.

Me too.

Alan Vega's a god, right?

Yes.

You're too young to be

listening to Suicide.

What's your favorite song?

"Be Bop Kid."

"Surrender"?

It's good.

A little melodramatic, but good.

Want to sit down?

Here.

Beer?

No.

- Can I kiss you?

- What?

- Am I doing it right?

- Fine.

Do you like it?

Very much. You?

I've never done t before.

With a man.

With a woman?

With my best friend.

She's very experienced.

- You don't smoke.

- No.

You taste nice.

You too.

Keep going.

I met someone.

Who is it?

Someone.

Someone you like?

I think so.

- Do you want me to meet him?

- No.

Then why are you telling me?

I don't have anyone else to tell.

- You have Bella.

- She'd flirt with him.

She flirts with you too.

Haven't you noticed?

Bullshit.

Don't swear.

I'm not.

You are.

Fine.

You want to fight.

Your problem is Bella, or the

guy you met?

My problem is your swearing.

I hardly ever swear.

And I feel awkward about all this.

All what?

Do I know him?

- He's not from here.

- You like him?

I already said. Yes.

Does he like you?

- No.

- How do you know that?

I'm guessing.

But does he know he likes you?

No.

- Are you going to tell him?

- No.

I think you should.

I don't agree.

Fine.

Don't tell him, then.

OK.

I like women's breasts.

The way they bulge under blouses.

I can't take my eyes off them.

It must make the women

feel uncomfortable.

But I don't lust after their breasts.

I admire them.

If I had dreams like yours,

I'd dream of breast-trees

instead of penis-trees.

Tit-trees. Prick-trees.

Keep on correcting my Greek...

idiot.

Do you like my tits?

Yes. They're very beautiful.

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Athina Rachel Tsangari

Athina Rachel Tsangari (Greek: Αθηνά Ραχήλ Τσαγγάρη; born 2 April 1966) is a Greek filmmaker and projection designer who has worked on projects such as the 2004 Olympic Games.  more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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