Reprise

Are we going to get something published, or what?

Or do you just want to cultivate your angst?

- There is a reason why we hesitated. - What do you mean?

You’re the one who stopped.

Sure, but...

I can start walking again.

Do I really want to expose the world to this?

Let’s just do it.

This...

is when it all begins.

Their manuscripts would have been accepted immediately.

They would’ve been published the next fall.

Finally, they would’ve been authors.

Their books would have sold poorly.

Erik and Phillip couldn’t care less.

More importantly, the books’ enigmatic nature

would’ve made them cult classics.

Phillip would’ve been overwhelmed by his success.

In a burst of hubris, he’d declare his literary project completed and--

No,

it would’ve been love that caused Phillip to lose faith in literature.

He would have left Oslo without telling a soul.

After three months, he would’ve reached the Vézère-valley.

The sight of the Lascaux paintings would’ve provoked a delirious fit.

Believing he knew Japanese,

he’d follow a tourist group from Hiroshima an entire day, before collapsing.

Diagnosis: Acute Stendhal Syndrome.

The urge to write would again have resurfaced.

January. Oslo.

The loss of Phillip would’ve become a loss of inspiration.

The writer’s block was a fact.

Author Sten Egil Dahl would have convinced Erik to go abroad to write.

She was a French publisher’s daughter.

Her father had idealised her,

causing a deep inferiority complex, both physical and intellectual.

On October 24, she would have thrown herself from their balcony.

Her letter would’ve suggested it was their happiness she couldn’t deal with.

Erik would’ve felt ashamed by the creativity triggered by her death.

They would have met by chance at a café...

No, on the street.

On the Metro... At an airport...

No, in the Luxembourg Garden.

They would have realised they were both writing the same book.

THE ZERO POINT

The book would’ve triggered a revolution in East Africa,

been banned by the Vatican, disillusioned the Dalai Lama,

and shaped the sexuality of Frode,

a 12 year old son of a pastry chef,

who would’ve happened to read--

This...

is when it all begins.

We have to get out of this country.

Erik was relieved when his suspicions were finally confirmed.

He was utterly without talent.

Phillip’s manuscript was accepted. His book was released in the fall.

Hi.

SIX MONTHS LATER

These are great CDs. Chris De Burgh, Sissel...

- Pan Pipe Moods? - Those are Dad’s old CDs.

- They came with the car. - Came with the car?

Air conditioner and Pan Pipe Moods is standard equipment in a Volvo?

- Hi. - Hi.

- Is that everything? - I think so.

Thanks.

It’ll be nice to come home to your apartment, your PC...

Maybe you can start writing again.

- Do you have any music we can play? - No.

Did you get hold of any good drugs, Phillip?

I actually talked to a doctor who...

They said down at the hospital that...

That more people get addicted to--

I’m sorry, but right now you sound like Geir.

Shit...

Nice friends.

Geir.

Could we drop by Bygdøy?

Isn’t it a little too cold for that?

The punk band Kommune played their farewell concert on Dec. 27, 1999.

Next song, “Fingerfucked by the Prime Minister”.

Morten, a diehard fan, missed his train and had to bike 50 km.

After 12 minutes, he got a knee in his eye.

His first encounter with Phillip and the others.

Ironic punk quickly evolved into cynical commercialism:

Henning started an ad agency.

This is...

Katinka.

Morten quit college to work for Henning as a “creative” consultant.

She’s discussing ads in public spaces.

I’m just trying to get her to bed.

Hi, Lillian.

Erik kept his girlfriend at a safe distance from his friends.

Tonight? I don’t know.

Morten asked Geir what she was like.

Geir said she was “intelligent”.

Morten therefore assumed she was ugly.

Geir pretended to agree.

A drunk Geir had once told Erik he feared they were friends with him

only because his brother was in the band.

Erik then had to wait two days before asking him for free tickets.

What does that mean?

“Que le tout”?

Phillip, please turn it down a little.

Violins are nice, but...

“The only thing left, is everything.”

“The whole.”

- Hi, Phillip! - Hi, Mum.

- Hi. - Hi.

How is it going?

Fine, I think.

- Was the drive okay? - Yes.

- Not too much traffic? - No, we stopped at Bygdøy.

Have you removed my things?

Well, I had to tidy up a bit.

Where are the pictures of Kari?

We talked about this.

- You just took them down? - It’s for your own good.

Why didn’t you tell me?

Maybe I forgot. The doctor...

Give me my keys, Mum.

It’s only practical that someone has a spare set.

Yeah.

Hey...

Maybe you should take the keys.

Think about it.

You’ll probably write something incredible now.

How’s your writing going?

To hell.

I’ve reworked that last one I sent in.

Think you could take a look at it?

You should just send it in.

I’m sure it’s excellent.

Should we head home?

Am I tired already?

Sales is about...

commitment,

desire,

- knowledge-- - Good, Fhaisal...

But you forget one key point:

you can’t sell over the phone,

until you have learned to sell yourself.

You should leave modesty at the door

before entering here.

Oops! Modesty just got run over by a steamroller.

Toss the ball to someone, Fhaisal.

Okay, who are you?

Kari.

Who are you?

Kari.

Kari grew up on the east side of town.

Phillip, on the west.

Still, Phillip insisted he had seen her before: Independence Day 1989,

he had gotten lost and ended up marching with the wrong school.

Kari didn’t believe him, but liked the idea.

At 18, Kari met Rune, the former guitarist in Kommune,

now frontman in Mondo Topless,

incidentally the worst use of a Russ Meyer film title as a band name ever.

Fucking hippies!

After dating Rune for three years, Kari started noticing Phillip.

She thought he was cute, but was sure he was gay.

She asked Rune who they were.

Just some spoiled rich kids from the West Side.

I heard one of them wrote this weird book.

LANGUAGE AS A PRISONER OF REALITY

Phillip later told Kari he knew they were destined for each other.

In ten seconds, she will look at him.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five,

four,

three,

two,

one...

The next day, he invited her to Paris.

Phillip’s sarcastic humour made her gasp with laughter.

Phillip said her gasping was repulsive.

This only made her gasp even more.

His gaze made her feel pretty.

Phillip loved her parodies of “sexy” girls in music videos.

She was the only girl he had met who had Ramones’ Road to Ruin on vinyl.

He enjoyed that they both admitted actually disliking The Clash.

Are you okay?

I’m fine.

- Hi. - It’s amazing.

This is incredible.

In the subway... I didn’t see the sign...

I sat down, and he said I... shouldn’t... It was painted...

But there wasn’t any paint...

You have paint on your jacket.

There’s paint all over your back.

No, there isn’t.

- There was something... Fuck. - Phillip, what’s wrong?

It’s just... I-I...

It wasn’t by chance.

It was no coincidence that we met.

The doctors said his obsessive romance with Kari had triggered his psychosis.

When Phillip was committed, Kari was advised not to visit him.

- Hi. - Hi.

I let myself in. Where have you been?

What do you mean?

- I kept trying the doorbell. - I just went to the store.

I’m fine. Don’t worry.

Hey, I’m sorry.