When Nietzsche Wept

---

Doctor Breuer.

I must see you on a

matter of life or death.

Meet me at nine tomorrow

morning at the Cafe Rousse.

A matter of

life or death! H mpf!

Doctor Breuer?

Lou Salome.

How do you do?

May I?

Would you like

a coffee?

Yes, caf latte.

Waiter, caf

latte, please.

My friend is preparing to kill himself.

This man's death would

have momentous consequences

for me, for you,

for all of the world.

Who is

this friend?

The philosopher

Friedrich Nietzsche.

Nietzsche? Should I know of him?

Not yet, but in time we

shall all know of him.

How do we confirm

a truth that has arrived

through disbelief and skepticism

and not through some childlike

wishing something were so.

It is hard to be in God's

hands. It's not truth.

It is a child's wish for the

everlasting blow to the nipple.

We have

evolutionary theory.

Evolutionary theory scientifically

demonstrates God's redundancy.

So Darwin himself

had not the courage

to follow

his evidence

to its true

conclusion. So...

where are we?

Surely you must all realize

we have created God...

and all

of us together

have killed him.

God...

is dead.

My friend is sick.

What is the nature

of his illness?

Headaches.

Tormenting headaches.

My dear lady, I will see your friend.

I'm a physician.

I know you can cure

his physical condition.

That is not

why I am here.

Nietzsche suffers

from the deepest despair.

That is what

I ask you to heal.

I cannot

cure despair.

Ah, but you

can, doctor.

I have a spy.

My brother,

a medical student,

attended the class in which

you described a new technique.

The talking cure.

Now I can arrange to steer

Nietzsche to your office

but he must believe you're

treating only his headaches.

Tell me, is yours

a Russian accent?

It is.

Well, perhaps the people in

Russia believe in sorcerers

but sorry, Fraulein,

I am Austrian.

I have no magic

to offer you.

May I walk you back to your hotel?

I would enjoy

that but...

my wife will be watching from

the window. I have a duty.

A duty?

It is my duty to be free of duty.

Doctor, save Nietzsche.

I am sorry.

I had hoped

it was hepatitis.

How long...

do I have?

It is best you put

your affairs in order.

Please, doctor.

How long?

Please. Tell us.

Three to

six months.

Are you alright, doctor?

Make sure the Pfeiffers

are never billed again.

Of course.

Oancel all their

outstanding debts to me.

Of course.

A Fraulein Salome

has suddenly arrived.

A very grand

young woman.

Show her in.

But Frau Reinhardt has

been waiting for hours.

Frau Becker!

Fraulein Salome!

Doctor Breuer.

I see you like to do

things for yourself.

Doesn't that deprive men

the pleasure of serving you?

We both know that

some of the services

men provide are not

necessarily good for women.

The habits

of a lifetime

are not easily

extinguished, my dear.

Your future husband will

need extensive retraining.

No husband

for me. Ever.

I would not do that to a man.

If then or ever you

use this new technique,

do not attempt to use this

mesmerism method with N ietzsche.

Our patient would refuse

to engage in any process

he perceives as surrendering

his power to another.

And are you responsible

for "our" patient's despair?

He believes

I am.

Where has

God gone?

I shall tell you.

God is dead.

We all have

killed him.

You, you,

you and I.

God will throw you in hell I

After the death

of Buddha,

his shadow was shown

for centuries in caves.

A gruesome,

gruesome shadow.

God will punish you I You are Satan I

Given the way of people

In the caves,

thank you,

for thousands of years, in which

God's shadow will still be shown.

Vanquish the shadow

within yourself!

Friedrich.

Friedrich. Meet Lou Salome.

A brilliant poet

from Russia.

Fascinating lecture

to fall on so few ears.

Why are people so

afraid of you, professor?

Oh, truth is

a fearsome thing.

Why do you say

God is dead?

And not that

he never existed?

What you think?

That God has ceased to be a

reckoning force in people's lives.

An interesting

interpretation.

But if God

is dead,

then everything

is permitted.

No morals,

no rules.

Without God, who will

organize our society?

What is the solution to

your godless proposition?

From what stars have we

dropped down to each other here?

Auf Wiedersehen.

I was immediately

attracted to him.

Seduced by

his intellect.

We could say so much to each

other with half sentences.

Mere gestures.

He became obsessed,

proposing marriage

after our first meeting.

I was attracted

to him.

But not romantically.

I wanted to learn.

Not to submit.

Stop it!

My refusal turned his love into hatred.

He wrote me these

crazed insulting letters.

Then he wrote about

killing himself.

So if I understand

you correctly,

you want me

to persuade N ietzsche

that his life

is worth living.

But I must accomplish this

without him knowing it.

You are the

only doctor qualified

for this

psychological treatment.

Frau Reinhardt is still

waiting. And still suffering.

One more thing.

You must read

his books.

I shall do everything I

can to help your friend.

Good night,

Dr. Breuer.

Good night.

Straight home,

Fishman.

Siegmund? Siegmund?

Where are you

racing to?

The most charming woman in

Vienna invited me for dinner.

Her more charming

husband is

on his way home this very

minute. J ump in, Siggy.

I diagnosed a liver

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