The Lives of Others

A Screenplay

Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, John le Carré, Alexander Zuckrow, Alexander Starritt, Shaun Whiteside

• Editorial: Pushkin Press
• Año: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781782270751
• Categoría: Media & Performing Arts
• Categoría: Film Screenplays

1984. East Germany. Captain Gerd Wiesler, a loyal member of the secret police, is assigned to spy on the playwright Georg Dreyman. The flat is bugged, and Wiesler begins to listen in to the daily - and nightly -activities of the playwright and his actress-girlfriend. But when he discovers that the surveillance has been instigated by the Minister of Culture's desire for Dreyman's girlfriend, rather than the playwright's political views, Wiesler begins to question his own loyalties. As he continues to listen in, he finds himself becoming increasingly absorbed in the couple's lives, and the gap between his professional duty and personal integrity starts to widen.

This hugely influential film by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, whose screenplay is published in English for the first time, is as relevant - or even more so - now, in the wake of Edward Snowden and the WikiLeaks revelations, as it was when it won the 2007 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

With a foreword by John le Carré.

Further contents:

Introduction by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck; ' Appassionata: The Idea for the Film', by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck'; an essay by Sebastian Koch ('Georg Dreyman'); an interview with Ulrich Mühe, by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck; 'Wiesler's Change of Heart', an essay by Manfred Wilke; full film cast and crew credits

Screenplay

Stasi detention centre Hohenschönhausen—morning

A PRISONER in civilian clothes is led down an apparently endless prison corridor with a linoleum floor, past dozens of cells.

Title on screen: ‘November 1984, Berlin-Hohenschönhausen, Detention Centre of the Ministry for State Security’

Suddenly red warning lamps come on all along the corridor.

GUARD Stand still. Eyes to the floor.

At the end of the corridor another prisoner in a prison uniform is led past along a corridor that crosses the first. When he has passed through, the red light goes out.

GUARD Walk on.

The guard leads the first prisoner further along the corridor until they stop outside the door of one of the many interrogation rooms.

GUARD Address him as ‘Captain’!

He knocks on the door.

Hohenschönhausen, interrogation room—at the same time

The interrogation room is decorated with white wallpaper, and sluggish daylight seeps through off-white curtains. The furniture—shelves and a desk—are made of pale laminated wood. A sickly plant without a single flower stands on the windowsill. Hanging on the walls are a photographic portrait of General Secretary Honecker and a faded landscape photograph showing an autumn forest path. GERD WIESLER, a gaunt man in his mid-forties wearing a plain uniform, stands by the window, hears the knocking and calls over to the door.

WIESLER One moment.

He walks to one of the shelves and opens a drawer containing a tape recorder. He switches it on, shuts the drawer and sits down. His movements are precise and minimal.

WIESLER Enter.

The guard brings the prisoner in, a slightly built man of about 30. He stands rather awkwardly in the room. Wiesler doesn’t look up at him. He studies the prisoner’s files on the table.

WIESLER Sit down.

The prisoner does so. He sits down carefully on a chair upholstered with orange fabric.

WIESLER (without looking up) Hands under your thighs, palms down.

Confused, the prisoner obeys. Finally Wiesler looks up.

WIESLER What do you have to tell us?

PRISONER I’ve done nothing. I know nothing… I’ve done nothing. There must be some mistake.

WIESLER You’ve done nothing, know nothing… You think we imprison innocent people on a whim?

PRISONER No, I…

WIESLER If you think our humanistic state capable of such a thing, that alone would justify your arrest.

The prisoner is speechless in the face of this dialectic.

WIESLER We’d like to jog your memory, prisoner No. 227… On September 28th, Dieter Pirmasens, your friend and neighbour, fled to the West. We believe that he had help.

PRISONER I know nothing. He didn’t even tell me he wanted to leave. I first heard about it at work.

WIESLER Please recount what you did on September 28th.

PRISONER It’s in my statement.

WIESLER Tell me again.

PRISONER (as though speaking by rote) I was at Treptow Park memorial with my children, where I met my old friend Max Kirchner. We went to his place and listened to music until late. He has a telephone, you can call him to confirm this.

Wiesler writes everything down.

PRISONER (obstinately) Do you want to call him? I can give you the number.

Stasi college Potsdam-Eiche, lecture theatre—midday

PRISONER (on tape)… call him? I can give you the number.

A finger presses the ‘pause’ button of a large reel-to-reel tape recorder fixed to the wall. Wiesler’s finger. He is standing by the board in a small seminar room. Fifteen young men and women are listening to him: his students. On the board are various technical te...