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?

At this point, the pimply dramaturge pipes up to say that a story like this contains the elements of Greek tragedy—namely, an ethically and morally unresolvable conflict in which all involved must perish, engendering pity and terror. Clamorous protest from the bankers, who can’t agree to such a pessimistic outcome. Stoffel sides with them. (“The moviegoers will stay away in droves after the premiere.”) Astrid objects that, however the conflict is resolved, she still doesn’t know how to “visually conceive” the end of the film. Nagel growls that it’s very simple: you’ll see the woman either being untied or dangling from a branch. He’s become quite grouchy. Trying to help my friend out, I say you have to leave it up to the viewers to sort out the clash of two ethical principles. Let them talk it through in the pub after the movie’s over. You can’t ask more of a film than that. Again, I’m met with blank stares. “Whaddaya mean? What kinda clash?”