Another objection: Why does the executioner have to come from so far away? (“Can’t these people string up their own criminals?”) Nagel patiently explains that after all, the tribe is subject to the laws of the country even if the government makes allowances for ethnic traditions and permits them to try their own cases. Carrying out the sentences, however, is reserved for the organs of the central government. Although she’s only Stoffel’s representative, Astrid von Bürger has taken charge of the discussion with a good deal of personal authority and asks somewhat mockingly (glancing at me for complicity) how they are going to inform the moviegoer of this complicated judicial situation—with a screen of written explanation, perhaps, listing the applicable precedents? (She’s already secured the complicity of the bankers; as chair of the meeting she has to support everyone equally.) Nagel squirms like he’s suffered a psychological shot in the belly. No, he says in a somewhat hoarse voice, the executioner himself could explain it in a few brief words—the treatment already has the movie beginning with an encounter between two strangers, the executioner and a world traveler who narrates the events. They meet at a campsite, both on their way to the natives. “Narrates?” Stoffel interjects in a booming voice. “I hate films that need voice-over narration. Film is a visual art, as proven by the decline in quality when the talkies were introduced . . .” Nagel interrupts him peevishly. “First of all that’s nonsense, and secondly, there’s no voice-over to what’s happening on-screen. Nobody explains what’s going on. The foreign traveler witnesses it all and we see what happens through his eyes.”

Stoffel is disgruntled. He doesn’t like being corrected. “What I said about the decline in quality isn’t nonsense because . . .” Again, Nagel interrupts him rudely. “Are you planning to make silent films?” Stoffel replies superciliously, “No, but I’m going to make films where the action is so obvious that at most, the dialogue serves to express the emotional reaction of the actors without needing the exaggerated miming of silent films—as straightforward, clear, and economical as possible, of course. Let the stage—the theater—celebrate the spoken word. Film is film!” That comes so close to voicing every possible platitude that even Nagel is struck momentarily speechless. Stoffel’s P.S. crushes him completely: “And by the way, I can’t see any role for Astrid in your story. As a native condemned to death, all she could do is get tied up and sit in her hut, waiting for the hangman.” Astrid says she doesn’t have to be in every STELLA FILMS production, and besides, exotic roles don’t suit her—except for Carmen. She worshiped Carmen when she was a little girl, but she’s no opera diva—and besides (she glances at me, looking for confirmation—I can’t help thinking of Christa), it’s Nagel’s job to introduce another, more attractive female character besides the candidate for execution. However—and this concentrates the smoldering skepticism of all those present on a common denominator—how does the story end? Does the woman get hanged or not?