DRAMA/   In Berlin, during the advent of the Third Reich (1933-1945), HANS T., Germanborn, hides his Jewish friend, ALFRED B. The latter, to occupy his time, writes novels that unfortunately he can not sign. This is Hans T. who then publishes them under his own name. They become bestsellers, and win him immense fame. But will their friendship survive? And what will happen to Hans T. once the war ends and he can not remain in the usurped skin of a famous and celebrated author?

SYNOPSIS

NEW YORK

KARL (25 years old) knows his father, ALFRED B., is going to die soon and this is the reason why he made him come.

He also knows his father will not to dictate his will but wants to reveal to him the story of his life. A life Karl knows almost nothing about. What has been the destiny of Alfred B., a German Jew, born in Berlin at the beginning of the century?

What has been his life like? His Jewish youth? How did he survive the Holocaust?

And with a tense, broken voice, Alfred B. starts telling his story. It is a confession that will bind father and son far beyond words and sentences.

Alfred B. was born in a poor district of Berlin. He had just finished his last year at the University. It was that year too that he met Hans T.

Hans T. came from a rich Berlin family established in one of the beautiful houses in the city center.

However Hans T. was a hard worker and above all he had a passion for literature.

Alfred and Hans attended the same classes. The young men thus met very often. When Alfred’s turn came to deliver lectures to his fellow students, Hans always listened to him in total admiration.

It was at the end of a lecture that Hans finally approached Alfred.

Hans then invited Alfred out for a drink. They discussed until late at night. At dawn the two young men separated, the best of friends.

One day Hans met MARINA. She was beautiful. Hans and Marina got married in 1932. Alfred was Hans’ witness.

When Hitler triumphed in the 1933 elections, a lot of Jews finally agreed to leave, desperate, convinced that nothing could stop the lethal power of National-Socialism. Not Alfred. He wanted to stay for simple reasons of dignity.

But “Cristal night” threw him into deep despair.

There was a long discussion between Hans and Alfred. Hans’s idea was simple: Alfred must come to live with them. Marina approved her husband. Alfred accepted to move in.

Hans and Marina wanted a baby. He was born and he was named Heinrich.

The prisoner in the attic was not wasting his time. He spent his time writing. He wrote without a break, all day long and even part of the night.

In the end, he had written a novel.

Alfred then started a new manuscript: another novel.

When he had finished this second manuscript, he felt obliged to show it to Hans and Marina.

Marina was crying when she finished reading. Emotion, friendship, something else? Hans was also enthusiastic but in his own way.

-This must be published!…At all costs! he added.

The three friends discussed Alfred’s manuscript and the solution came about very naturally. It must be published. But it had to be with Hans name, that of an irreproachable Aryan.

Within a few weeks, the work of Alfred B. in the Germany of Third Reich, an unknown Jewish scholar from a poor neighborhood in Berlin, became a bestseller under the name of Hans T.

Alfred became caught up in his own game. He went on writing because he could not do otherwise. It was the only possible solution. He wrote every day more and more. And Hans continued publishing the books in his own name.

Alfred had so many things to say. However he came to realize something. He did not doubt Hans’ friendship and honesty.

All laughs aside, this masquerade was purely a question of style. Hans was caught up in the game: he had become comfortable in the shoes of a famous author. But everything would be cleared up after Hitler’s defeat. That was obvious.

The winds of this defeat began blowing. The Reich was definitely falling apart.

Hans had to leave for the Eastern front. They needed officers badly.

Life was going on in Berlin. And there was Marina.

Alfred and Marina became lovers very naturally. They did not feel guilty. Their love was beyond any morality. But who could speak of morality in any case in those crazy times? Did Hans experience any guilt, when he claimed the authorship of works he would have been hard put to produce?

Europe was being destroyed. Alfred and Marina loved each other.

Marina died.

Almost every day the allied planes flew over the city dropping their deadly bombs. There had been no warning siren on this raid. She was struck down right on the doorstep of the family home.

Hans T. returned shortly there after. Looking miserable and disheveled. The city was being furiously bombarded. Alfred informed him of Marina’s death and immediately Hans left the house. Alfred only remembered the image of this officer in a ragged uniform, standing in front of his ruined home, his son Heinrich clinging to him.

Leaving the house, Alfred started to wander around. He walked aimlessly in the middle of the collapsing world he hated.

He survived.

Germany was defeated.

Alfred was naturally taken in charge by the allied health services.

One year later he was then forced to make a choice, either stay in Europe or go to the United States. His choice was the United States.

In 1948, he became a professor of compared literature at Kent University. It was at about that time that the novels by Hans T. were published in the United States. Most of the books became bestsellers very quickly. Alfred did not fell particularly bitter about it. They belonged to his past.

And then, one day, Hans T. found him. That day, Alfred was giving a lecture in a full amphitheater. He noticed Hans very quickly sitting in the last row.

When he was finished and the students had left the room, the two men remained alone.

Hans had not changed much. He had grown older of course but he still had that somehow conquering air. The world belonged to him, by right. Was he not the famous writer known throughout the world? The famous Hans T., author of books written in the horror of the last world war.

-“Your books?”

-“Yours” Hans protested. We can inform the press today of the masquerade if you like. I am not an impostor. You know your books had to be published and it was the only way.

Alfred saw no need or reason for a public disclosure. He was even very fond of this secret that belonged to the most intense part of his life, because it was also the secret of his love for Marina.

Given Hans’ agitation, there was something else at stake. He guessed Hans’ request before it was ever formulated. He understood how uncomfortable Hans’ situation was.

-“Without you, I am nothing.”

His publishers were constantly harassing him, not understanding his sudden silence. How could this author who produced such masterpieces in the midst of the nazi hell, be so silent.

Hans looked almost pitiful. Alfred knew Hans was telling the truth.

-“Perhaps I stole your fame, but you had the joy of creation recognized and I had only the illusion of it. And I still need to hang on to this. Alfred you must continue writing …for me.”

Alfred looked at his friend closely. Hans was finished. Hans was ruined like his home under the bombing. He pitied him. He would probably forgive him if Hans spoke about Marina. But Hans did not speak of Marina, not one single word.

-“All right” said Alfred “ I will give you one last novel. For you“.

He felt scorn at Hans’ relief.

It took him a year gathering his old notes, but in the end it was all there: Marina, their love, the story of the passion that had destroyed his life.

The book was published a few months later and became an international bestseller almost overnight.

Hans committed suicide within days of the publication.

Hans’ death never freed nor rehabilitated Alfred in the eyes of the world. First Marina, then Hans. Alfred remained alone, unbearably alone with his secret.

Everything has been said, there is nothing left. Nothing but an old man with lost eyes and gnarled hands. Karl knew he must now leave and let the inevitable follow its course. Alfred wanted to remain with Marina’s ghost.

A few days later, in New York Jewish cemetery, Karl was meditating on the tomb of his father, a man who was still enigma to him and who had been buried forever with his secret.

(US Copyright and WGA Registration)