Walter Schmidinger credited as playing...
Tim Mandelbaum
- Tim Mandelbaum: Maybe one should break down once in a while. I have several times. I don't know if it upset me. I think not. Usually about love. I need intimacy terribly. Where does one find it? I really mean it. Always the same torment. Then the body gets in the way and then the soul. And then one's loaded with hopes and expectations and compromises. God, I'm so theoretical!
- Tim Mandelbaum: I'm only a child. Then again, maybe not. I don't know about time. It doesn't exist, say those who've thought about it. I shut my eyes and feel like a 10-year-old. Physically as well. Then I open them and look in the mirror and an old man stands there. A childish old man, isn't that strange. A childish old man, that's all. No, something more.
- Tim Mandelbaum: My dreams were too lovely perhaps and as punishment - life shakes you when you least expect it.
- Tim Mandelbaum: Most gays like women - not because we're feminine ourselves. But, because we're more in touch with our feelings.
- Tim Mandelbaum: I'm driven by forces I don't control. Doctors, lovers, pills, drugs, alcohol, work. Nothing helps. Secret forces. What are they called? I don't know. Maybe just aging. Wasting. I don't know. Forces I can't master.
- Tim Mandelbaum: I stare at my face in the mirror - it's quite familiar - and make sure that in this combination of blood and flesh and nerves and bone, there are two separate - I don't know what. Two separate entities. The dream of intimacy, tenderness, togetherness, abandon of the living. And on the other hand violence, filth, horror, threat of death. Sometimes I believe it all comes from one source. I don't know. How should I?
- Tim Mandelbaum: Martin was a fine guy. We were very close but, as you know, no one's faithful. Not really. Homosexuals never are. Because of children. The sad fact we haven't any and can't adopt.
- Tim Mandelbaum: Does it make me look older?
- Katarina Egermann: You don't want to get old?
- Tim Mandelbaum: The wrinkles aren't that bad. It's the ugliness that distresses me.
- Katarina Egermann: It's immeasurable grief. Can you understand that? I've ever... Maybe it isn't grief at all but some sort of madness. People like me have never given the soul much thought. Then the soul starts acting up, and you're helpless. You know?
- Tim Mandelbaum: I understand.
- Katarina Egermann: Perhaps a few tears are shed at first. A strange kind of crying... which then turns into a terrible howl of grief and hopelessness. Then it turns into a blind roar. A roar, a roar.
- Tim Mandelbaum: I'm still a child. Or perhaps I'm not a child anymore after all. I don't understand all this business about time. Some experts say it doesn't exist. And they're right. When I close my eyes, I feel like a ten-year-old. Even physically. Then I open my eyes again... and look in the mirror... and there I see this old fogey. A childlike old fogey. Isn't that weird? A childlike old fogey. That's all.
- Tim Mandelbaum: That whole business about intimacy is just a dream. Brutality and obscenity. Sometimes I go to certain places to pick up these awful men. You wouldn't believe your eyes. Pleasure and sexuality and horror and obscenity. All rolled into one. That's the kind of sex life your old fogey has. You can't exactly call that tender intimacy. One day someone will kill me. But that too is a titillating thought. Certain powers drive me that I can't control. Doctors, lovers... pills, drugs... alcohol, work. Nothing helps. They're secret powers. Do they have a name? I don't know. Maybe it's the aging process itself. The putrefaction. I don't know. I have no control over these powers. I get closer to the mirror and look into my face... that has become so familiar. And I come to the conclusion that this blend of flesh and blood... and nerves and pieces of bone contains two totally incompatible... I don't know what to call it. Two incompatible people. The dream of intimacy, of tenderness, common interests... of the ability to forget yourself and of all that is alive. And on the other hand, the violence, the obscenity, the horror and death. Sometimes I think they all stem from one and the same origin. I don't know. And how could I know anyway? Perhaps my dreams were just a bit too beautiful. And as a punishment... Life punishes you when you least expect it. When you get your orgasm, your nose is so deep in shit... that you almost suffocate.
- Tim Mandelbaum: Everybody breaks down once in a while. I've had a couple of nervous breakdowns myself. I'm not sure if I'm sorry that I broke down. I don't think so. Love was usually at the root of it. I'm pathologically addicted to intimacy. And does intimacy exist? When I say intimacy, I mean intimacy. It's always the same sad story. The body itself becomes an obstacle. Then the soul. Soon you're in a muddle of hopes, fantasies and compromises.
- Tim Mandelbaum: You have to cry if you feel like it. I don't mind at all. On the contrary. I'd consider it a gesture of trust.
- The Interrogator: You introduced Peter to Ms. Krafft... or 'Ka,' as she was called?
- Tim Mandelbaum: Yes.
- The Interrogator: How did it happen?
- Tim Mandelbaum: It happened one Sunday last fall. At the train station.
- The Interrogator: You were taking a trip?
- Tim Mandelbaum: There are foreign men at the station who go there to earn a bit of money. Suddenly I ran into Peter Egermann. He'd brought some foreign papers... at the international newsstand. We had a cup... of coffee together. For some reason... I told him why I was at the station. Peter was interested somehow. Suddenly he told me... that he'd never gone to a prostitute before. I recommended Katarina Krafft, gave him her address... and promised to talk to her about it. That's the whole story. That's the reality. But actually it's not even half of it. I was furious at Katarina Egermann. Fact is, I've always been furious with her, even though I liked her. I liked the idea that Peter was cheating on her with a prostitute. But that's only part of the truth. Weak people choose strange paths. You should know that, Inspector. It torments me that I was the one who introduced the killer to the victim. Please excuse my dramatic turns of phrase. I just have a bad conscience. I blame my homosexuality. That too is just part of the truth. This is starting to become interesting, don't you think? The truth is of course that I wanted Peter all to myself. But that wasn't clear to me. We were to have a mutual secret. I slowly wanted to take him away from his wife and make him mine. I saw that terrible coldness in his marriage... and was somewhat obsessed with the idea that he would turn to me. That he would discover me at long last. That he would realize that I secretly loved him. Emotionally, Peter was a dying man. The way one can die of hunger, thirst or loss of blood. I knew that I could save him. And I wished I was the one he was seeking. Seeking to be close to me. I don't think I'm wrong. People like me have a feeling for such things. Perhaps everything I've told you isn't the truth either. There are certain clever people who say we're blind. That our movements are preordained. That we've been pledged... or violated since birth. But that doesn't make the slightest difference. Don't you agree?
- The Interrogator: Why were you friends with a whore?
- Tim Mandelbaum: What kind of question is that, Inspector? It's either malicious, underhanded or naive. So I'm answering your question by saying I don't like it.
- The Interrogator: I didn't mean to insult you.
- Tim Mandelbaum: I'll try to believe that.