(“. . . Well, just listen—listening?—this idea is worth its weight in gold: after all, GLORIA made Till the Last Man, didn’t they?—Did you see it? No? Well, this is the theme: a political demagogue convinces the masses of his ideas, which are actually criminal; he starts a war, and the very people who were his most enthusiastic followers, who believed that the man only wanted the best, now have to hold out until the bitter end—Till the Last Man . . . It’s sure to be the box-office sensation of the season. And now VICTORIA’s keen on a topic like that, but with a more optimistic ending. The distributors say that the audiences are excited when they arrive but they’re down when they leave. Victoria can’t afford that—look what happened with Till the Last Child—you know: last phase of the war, a crazy old sergeant wants to defend a village even though it’s totally useless; since all the men are away at the front, he arms the kids with bazookas, and all of them are wiped out, of course—right? Well, it turned out that audiences were expecting a silver lining of hope on the horizon. So after a good start in the big cities, the flick’s been collapsing in the provinces after just a week. Why don’t you mull it over a bit? Find the right solution for Till the Last Woman—okay? The title itself is sexy; that’ll get them to the box office. Besides, with luck even the biggest dummies will notice that it’s not meant seriously—but it’s supposed to be, you understand, a hard war theme, but not so hopeless; if a couple of broads get bumped off, it doesn’t matter, most moviegoers are women anyway; they like it when something happens to another woman. So think it over; maybe you’ll hit on something bubbly. That’s up your alley, isn’t it: harsh reality behind the humor—right?—I’ve already registered the title, you can’t expect any payment for the material itself, but you’ll get a nice tidy sum for the treatment, money up front is more important for you than a lot of money later on, I’m counting on a script contract for you, but let me just say this much: it’s a unique opportunity, you’ ll be doing business with VICTORIA, so show us that I didn’t pick the wrong man when I chose you as the writer . . .”)

Then I’m in my element. Then I do without the handwritten stuff (what symbolism in Nagel’s scribbling left hand!)—

—then I fantasize “the thing” right into the typewriter: attack the keys with nimble, forceful fingers, as if I were sitting at a Bechstein in a concert hall—and what should inhibit me here, anyway? The question of quality?

(“. . . Our industry can afford an artistic cinema only if it stands on a sound financial foundation—which comes from the box-office receipts of entertainment movies. I, as the producer, am obliged to make sure of this . . .”)—