Books of My Life: Reclams Filmführer

Reclams Filmführer Dieter Krusche/Jürgen Labenski Stuttgart: Philipp Reclam jun., 2nd ed. 1973 

I've always loved movies, and to this day cinema has been an essential part of my life. Even as a kid I'd study the movie section of the TV Guide and mark the ones I wanted to see, mostly monster movies and science fiction, of course, but a lot of classics as well. I just wasn't aware that they were classics then. I'm still searching for a few titles I saw as a kid, but can't figure out what they were. And my dad took me to the movies a lot, 2001: A Space Odyssey in 1968 was a very memorable experience. (My theory is that you should show that movie to kids, they can appreciate it much better). It was only later - having moved to Germany in the mean time - that I realized that movies were something that could be called art. 

Seeing The Godfather, Part 2 in 1974 kind of blew my mind, I became seriously interested in 'studying' movies. This means that I started reading reviews and books on cinema and systematically chose what I wanted to see. I'm still doing that even today... The Reclams Filmführer might have been the first book on cinema that I bought, and I've read it dozens of times and used it for work many times since. Currently I 'm going through it once again, page by page, checking out which 'classics' I have already seen and which ones I need to seek out.

Basically it is a dictionary of the most important movies in cinema history. It is subdivided in a section for the silent era and one for movies with sound, but also includes a large section presenting the most important directors, what their work meant for cinema history and a list of their essential films (unfortunately incomplete). Newer editions have no subsections anymore, and the directors part was deleted, but published separately as a book. By and by I worked on seeing every title in the book (which I still haven't managed yet). When I was older and joined the local film club and its cinema I used this book as a source to organize retrospectives. Each movie is introduced with short credits, a full synopsis and an appreciation why this specific work has any relevance within cinema history. This information proved to be important, if I wanted to have a title on our program, and it gave me the elements with which I could argue. Naturally the selection is biased by the author's preferences, and Hollywood pics are lined up in equal measure with world cinema. Even though it's supposed to include the main works of cinema, some IMHO are missing and there are quite a few obscure titles listed, often barely known. A long time I was urging to see Vilgot Sjöman's 491, the description was quite shocking to me in the mid 70s. Neverthless, this single book introduced me to cinema as an art form and to the names of all the great directors. In a few years after buying the book I had managed to see the major works of Pier-Paolo Pasolini, Ingmar Bergman, Roberto Rossellini, Federico Fellini, Andrej Tarkovsky, etc., and re-introduced me to the more important Hollywood directors. I also have a more recent updated edition of this book, but my old one is still dear to me.

Werner Herzog's Auch Zwerge haben klein angefangen (1969) 

Pier Paolo Pasolini's Teorema (1968) 

Luis Bunuel's La vida criminal de Archibaldo de la Cruz (1955)

 A page from my edition (director's section) 

The Movie I Dreamt Up

 

[This plot of a film noir-like movie came to me in a dream recently. It evolved with certain scenes, and like in a real movie, what was unclear was resolved within flashbacks.]

A young man arrives at a hilltop overlooking a railroad bridge with the city of St. Louis at the other side of the Mississippi river in view. He thinks about how he will settle in that city, due to his origins it'll need to be the seedier parts of the town.

He reminds himself of the first reason why he's there: He had met the old man, who was sitting in jail, who told him where to find a certain car key, asking him to deliver it to the proprietor of a Motor Lodge situated exactly below this railroad bridge. He'll get five thousand dollars to do this errand. Of course, no questions asked.

He drives down a bumpy road and finds the place: one main building with an entrance office and a small diner connected to it, a sign that says Motor Lodge, and maybe 4-5 small huts.

Once at the entrance counter he asks the good-looking, maybe 40-year-old lady that he needs to speak to the proprietor: To his surprise she says that's her, and she explains that it's only herself, her daughter and the janitor here. He soon sees them, too, a beautiful young woman, about 20 years old, and a frail, elderly man.

The young man shows the lady the key, and she immediately knows what it's about. He asks for his reward, but she says not so fast. First she'd need to check, if the key works and that the old man hadn't done any mistake. That'll take about another hour.

She calls a cab. When it arrives she orders her daughter, who protests, but then obliges, to take the key and get the car. The girl already knows where it is to be found.

So, the young man waits in the diner, drinking coffee, together with the lady and her old janitor. Obviously, they didn't have much to do, there were no customers.

Within an hour the young girl arrives back, and watching her drive the car up the driveway and park it, she's obviously very nervous. She gets out carrying a suitcase. She gives it to her mother and explains she had been careful and found nobody following her.

The lady opens the suitcase, gives it a short look, then takes a pack of dollar bills out of it and hands it to the young man and tells him his job is done. He checks the amount, then tugs it into the inner pocket of his jacket. No questions asked.

But before he starts to leave, they all notice that outside a black car had driven up to the Motor Lodge, and it was now blocking the exit. Two men get out of the car, and even from a distance they very much looked like some mobster thugs.

The strangers come into the diner, their guns already aimed at the three people inside. They separate the young man, the girl and the janitor from the lady who's to stay put behind the counter. They say they want the suitcase; they'll leave with it, and nobody gets hurt.

The lady says no; the suitcase is hers. And so the thugs reveal what the case is all about and why they want it back. The suitcase contains a hundred thousand dollars, which is payment that was to be delivered to their syndicate. It was placed in a car trunk to be picked up a little later. But the old man somehow found out about this transaction, opened the trunk before the next driver arrived and placed the suitcase into the trunk of a different car parked somewhere else but nearby. 

The old man was in jail and couldn't redeem his loot anymore ever, so he wanted to give it to the Motor Lodge lady, for unknown personal reasons. An inmate overheard the old man's conversation with the young man and knew where to sell that information.And by way, the old man got his due for this theft.

The lady swipes out a shotgun from under the counter and shoots the thug aiming at her. The other thug watching over the other three captives reacts immediately and shoots the lady, but the survivors can flee in the commotion. The janitor manages to fetch the shotgun and runs out the main entrance, while the girl takes the young man to a back door, where they escape. 

The remaining thug follows the janitor outside, where it comes to a shoot-out. The girl and the young man only hear this. but need to find a way to safety. It's all mostly open area, one way a hill upwards, the other to the parking lot, where the shooting is going on, or the lot below the bridge. The bridge pier has a ladder up to the tracks, so they quickly decide to climb up to the bridge.

The remaining thug obviously was successful killing or incapacitating the janitor, as he is in quick pursue of the other two survivors, all the while shooting in their direction. Up on the bridge there's not much way to flee, and the thug is quickly approaching.

Just as the thug arrives on the bridge, only a few feet from his victims, and starts to aim at them, a fast-moving train thrusts over the bridge, the girl and the young man manage to make a fast jump over the tracks before the train hits them, and the thug is jostled off the bridge to his obvious death.

The girl and the young man exchange a glance of relief to each. But before he even notices and feels it, the girl sees that the train had torn off the young man's arm. As he realizes this himself, he gives her a last look of regret, then falls down unconscious, quickly bleeding to death. For a moment the girl is in shock, then she checks, if she can save the man, but all hope is lost. She sees the pack of bills in his jacket, takes it and then slowly starts to cross the bridge in direction of the big city.

Farewell to our Beloved Bubi

 

On Wednesday we had to put our beloved Bubi to rest. He was only 6 years old.

Five days prior we first noticed that he snubbed his food, although his sister Susie showed no such signs of refusal to that particular menu. That's not really unusual, since cats often skip meals or change their preferences. However, he was obviously not feeling well. He did drink some water, but vomited it all out again a few hours later. We thought it might just be a momentary malaise.

The next day the same thing happened all over again, and he was obviously not feeling well and was already appearing to be lethargic. We called a weekend veterinarian and agreed to watch him one more day, before taking him to the animal clinic. 

But there was no improvement, and we brought him to the doctor. He was examined and X-rayed, but nothing could be found. He hadn't swallowed any alien objects, and there were anomalies to his inner organs. He got shots against nausea and one to booster his appetite. We agreed that he'd have to be brought back, if his condition didn't improve.

It didn't improve at all, although he no longer vomited water, but he didn't drink any more either. He was more apathetic than before. He would constantly sit and stare, and every hour he'd change to one of his favorite places in our apartment, making short stops to his feeding place, but only staring at the food and water bowels. Susie had become a bit aggressive to him, occasionally hissing at him, probably because he smelled of medicine and kept ignoring her. Like me, she'd check on him every so often, all through the night.

So, on Monday, we finally brought Bubi to our regular veterinarian; she hadn't been available on the weekend, we had thought, but had been wrong. Nevertheless, we had more confidence in her skills. She couldn't tell what was wrong, but told us that he was definitely very ill. She kept him over the afternoon, gave him an infusion, since his body was already all dried out and made a blood test. In the evening she discussed the results with us, which were not at all good. All his blood values were way over the top, most alarmingly for the kidneys. Several organs had already failed to function, and she diagnosed a gastrointestinal infection, so he was multimorbid, i.e. having several illnesses at the same time.

We agreed to bring him back for more infusions for the next two days, and did so the very next day: early morning to the doctor and at noon picking him up again. Although the infusions should have improved his constitution, it didn't. It rather got worse. Every so often, I found him with saliva hanging out of the corners of his mouth in strings. He surprisingly joined me in the bathroom, but didn't react at all, not an inch, not a shrug, when a large towel fell on him.

I discussed the situation with Ursula, and we agreed to talk with the doctor the next morning, before giving him another infusion. He hadn't eaten, slept or even gone to the toilet for four days, no purring and hardly any reaction to us or his sister Susie. He simply ignored her hissing into his face.

The next morning I talked to the doctor and asked, what the prospects were. She assumed he could have a tumor and after improvement of his condition, we might consider an operation. But she agreed that it was impossible with his current condition and that it would be best to put him to rest. We buried him in a friend's garden, where our previous cats lay as well.

This has been a particularly harrowing experience for us, since Bubi was so young, and his condition really changed from one minute to the next. Friday morning he didn't eat, but he was still his quirky, happy-go-lucky self. We have lost cats before, and it's always horrible to lose a family member, but at least they all had lived to a full cat's age. 

 

We got Bubi and Susie six years ago as kittens from the local animal shelter. At first they were very shy and soon found themselves some hiding places. Susie was always the domineering one, and quickly joined into our life, while Bubi remained extremely shy and for weeks kept in hiding. He did occasionally pop his head out of a book shelve or another secret hideout, and when he assumed I was asleep at night he'd sneak onto my bed and dash off in an instance when I'd wake up. Or at night he'd secretly have playful kitten fights with Susie, like little dinosaurs, right in front of my bed.

 

Years later, cleaning up our bookshelves, we found a collection of toys he had hidden behind the books to keep them for himself from Susie. Actually, we found another little collection now, after cleaning up his favorite spots in the apartment.

Bubi remained the shy one, jumping to a hideout whenever our doorbell rang, but peeking in to check out who it was. Over time he'd have his favorite guest friends and roll around in joy when they came for a visit. 

He became our beautiful beloved Bubi, who was always gentle and good-natured, quiet, but also lively, playful and mischievous. His favorite prank was to flush the toilet - and then run off, since he knew that was a no-no. He loved to hop on top of our high fridge, and watch us with an "you can't catch me here" attitude. He'd jump up in the morning roll around with joy, when he heard my alarm clock go off and was highly impatient till I finally got out of bed. He enjoyed our company and stayed near us in whatever room we would be. If you passed by him at one of his sleeping places, he'd give you a high five or a gentle head bump, he loved to hop on when Ursula was in bed and give her a loving stare, nearly nose to nose. Bubi was quite talkative, much more than Susie, and he gave me constant comments when I was cooking in the kitchen. Both Bubi and Susie would await me with anxiety, when they knew I was coming home from work.

 

Busi was therefore a full family member and obviously enjoyed his life. I've always admired how cats can sleep with such visible contentment, and Bubi always slept like that. We say how much we love our pets, but it's the full, unconditional love they give us that counts. Bubi gave us all that love.

I don't believe in the supernatural at all, especially not in ghosts. But now that Bubi is no longer here, the notion that he's still around doesn't fade. I keep unconsciously checking out his favorite spots with my eyes when I enter a room, and I flinch whenever I hear something in our apartment. But it isn't Bubi, of course, but it'll take quite a while till that notion disappears.

Munich Zoo Hellabrunn

 

Last week I visited the Munich Zoo Hellabrunn with Ursula and her sister Andrea, an annual treat for Andrea we do at least once a year, each time a different zoo, if possible. One of the attractions there was the meerkat enclosure, although they only have four specimens compared to larger enclosures in other zoos. So, it was a bit of a difficult task to get a sight of them, since they preferred to stay in their tunnel system. However, one of them did make a short performance on top of one of their hills.

Today there was a short news report that all four meerkats had died. Obviously, they had dug a new tunnel and were caved in, an occurrence that is not unusual to happen in their natural habitat as well. 

The Girl and the Mermaid

 

(This is a story I wrote in July 2000)

Everyone knows you can hear the roar of the waves when you hold a seashell to your ear.
Even if you're many miles away from the ocean, you still have the sensation of standing right there
at the shores of the great waters.
However, it is little known that you can also hear the mermaids singing when you have the peace to listen
to the waves carefully. There are not many who have heard these strange but entrancing songs,
and there are many who will tell you it is all just an illusion.
It is said that there was once a young girl who could hear the mermaids.
This young girl lived in a little house not far from the shores of the great ocean.
She was alone with her father there because her mother had died soon after her birth.
This part of the country was scarcely populated, it was many miles to walk in any direction to meet
a neighbour. In fact, the only times the two of them would see other people was on Sundays when
they walked the long journey to Mass in a small village many miles away. Often enough, though,
heavy storms kept them safely at home, as it would have been too dangerous to embark on the weekly
mission to worship God.
Father and daughter lived a very secluded life. Life was even more lonesome for the girl.
When the weather allowed, her father went out to sea to catch fish. On such days he would be gone
from early morning till late in the evening. The daughter had enough to do for minding the
house, yet still there were many hours for her to dwell on her sad thoughts.
The elders of the village remember that her father had once been a kinder man, always friendly, helpful and generous, although he was very poor. He was known for his jovial laugh which only became greater after his marriage to a shy pretty woman from a distant village. He was indeed a jolly fellow more than ever
before. However, after the birth of his daughter and the premature death of his beloved wife, he changed
completely. He avoided the company of his neighbours and declined the most generous invitations.
He didn't attend the many village festivities anymore and he even lost interest in conversations with
anyone. He was only seen at the Sunday masses and on rare occasions when he had business to do
in the village. He did drop in at the pub, but only to drink a solitary pint in the remotest booth
before traveling homeward. Many a rumour circulated about his daughter, as she never talked
to anyone.
The girl's father had forbidden her any conversation with strangers.
There were not many who could describe the appearance of her face since her father forced her to
wear a large scarf which completely shrouded her face. He always complained, "I had such a
beautiful wife, but now God has punished me to live in misery with the ugliest of daughters."
Those few who claim to have seen the face of the girl, and it was a rare glance at that, agree with
what the father said.
Yes, the girl lived a miserable life. Her father treated her very badly. In her small room he had put
a large mirror, and every day he forced her to look into it saying,
"Look, how God has punished you and me, you are the ugliest girl in the world!" There hardly was
a day, when she didn't suffer under his wrath. She was compelled to work hard, minding the house
and the small garden and preparing their daily meals which always consisted of a thin soup, fish
and potatoes. Any deviation from this diet, even if only in its taste, was severely punished, just as
anything else would be punished which brought up the discontent of her father. The dropping of a
spoon, a bed not meticulously made, the floor not swept clean enough, even a sneeze too loud,
would make him shout in anger. However, he never beat his child, his only penalty for breaking
any of the inconceivable rules of his house was to lock the girl into her room until the next day. She
dreaded these fits, especially as he always locked her up with the same hurtful words, "This is the
punishment for your ugliness!"
The happiest moments the young girl had were those few hours when the weather was mild, her
father was off to sea and her chores were done early in the day. These moments were rare enough,
but when it was in any way possible, she would go down to the nearby beach to listen to the roar of
the waves and to cry silently about her pitiful fate.
Once in a while the roaring tide became so loud that she couldn't hear her own sobbing anymore.
When this happened she would stop crying and gradually set her attention to the tremendous
noise of the restless sea. And when she listened very intently, she could hear a distant melody. It
sounded strange and was unlike anything she had heard before, but the remote music was so
entrancing that she spent hours listening. Of course she never told her father about this strange
phenomenon, it would only have been a new occasion for him to punish her. He didn't even know
about her visits to the beach. The girl kept her little secret to herself and looked forward to the next
time she could get away from the house and listen to the sea singing. Soon she learned how to
discern the music much more easily from the roaring noise of the tide and finally she was able to
hear it whenever she visited the beach.
Although the ocean music had at first kept her thoughts far from her sorrows, its very beauty made
her more and more sad and she started to cry again more bitterly. The louder she cried the more
clearly did the music resound in her ears, until one day she suddenly heard a voice, "Little girl, why
are you crying?" The girl was immediately frightened, and after the first moment of shock, she looked fearfully in the direction from where the voice had come. At first she couldn't believe
her eyes at what she saw. It was the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes upon.
The woman had long red hair, so long that it easily covered her naked body to the waist. The face
had completely smooth features, the eyes glowed in a most friendly blue and the woman was
smiling in a benevolent and soothing way. "Little girl, why are you crying?" she repeated her
question. The girl still stood there in awe as she noticed that below the waist, the woman had the
body of a fish. She couldn't believe her eyes, but it was very clear that it was a creature half woman
and half fish lying in the spray before her. The girl shyly asked in what seemed a whisper, "Who
are you?" The woman smiled even friendlier and replied, "I am what you people of the land call a
mermaid." The girl had never heard that word before, although she understood it must be
something very rare and unusual. "I don't know what a mermaid is," she said, more meant as a
question than as a statement. The mermaid answered that it would take too long to explain and that
she couldn't stay too long outside of the waters and then she asked once again, "Please, little girl,
pray tell me, why do you cry so much?" Reluctantly, the girl told the mermaid about her life, that
she was ashamed of being so ugly and making her father's life so miserable and that she didn't know
what to do to make her father and herself happier. As the mermaid answered the girl saw a little
tear in the eye of the beautiful face, a tear as precious as a little pearl, "My dear child of the land,
don't you know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? You must find someone who loves you
and then you will be beautiful." The girl stood there in disbelief, "I don't know about that. I am
most surely not as beautiful as you are!" "Oh, dear child, I am not beautiful at all. Among the
creatures of the sea I am cursed and all avoid me as I am clearly a deformed being in this world."
The girl disagreed vehemently, but the mermaid wouldn't listen, she told her, "My dear child, I must
go now, but do please listen to what I have to say. You must find someone who loves you. To do so
you must show your face." With these words the mermaid disappeared into the waves, and there
was no melody to be heard anymore.
The girl stood there in awe. She had wanted to ask more, but now it was too late. How could she
show anyone her terrible face? The only person in the world who knew what she looked like was
her father who despised her ugliness. Of course it was impossible to tell him about her new
experience.
The next three weeks the land was tormented by heavy storms. They couldn't go to the Sunday
masses, the weather was so stormy that it was impossible to leave the house, except for short
chores. In the fourth week the heavy rains turned into a soft drizzle and the winds calmed down to
a fresh breeze. Finally, it was time to attend Sunday mass again, so her father led her to the mirror,
"Look at your ugliness. You know very well, why I must hide your face." With these words he
veiled her face with the scarf and off they went for their long journey to the village.
During the Mass father and daughter always seated themselves in the last pew in order not to be
noticed by the other members of the parish. There they attended the ceremony, and the girl drifted
in thought back to her encounter with the mermaid. As the priest gave his homily she was only able
to perceive the words, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," repeated again and again, as if this
were the priest's message.
A boy in the aisle in front of her had been staring at her every so often, and the girl remembered the
advice, "You must show your face." Almost as if driven to do so, she slightly lifted her veil
revealing her profile just as the boy once again glanced in her direction.
Suddenly, the boy made a gasp in shock and turned his head away in disgust. The girl's father had
also noticed the incident and grunted in disapproval. Before the mass had even ended he pulled his
daughter out of the church and hurried her home all along the way screaming at her whether she
had gone out of her mind.
At home he pushed her into her room, locked the door and only reopened it again on the evening of
the next day.
The girl, however, had cried all through the journey home and all through the time she was in her
domestic prison. It had been obvious that the boy found her ugly. Her father had been right all along, she thought sorrowfully to herself.
It was about a week after the church incident, her father had probably already forgotten about
it. The girl found time to visit the beach again. As always she cried to the waves, and as usual,
the oceanic melody sang to her. The girl cried harder and harder, until she was interrupted, "Dear
child of the land, why are you crying?" The girl once again saw the mermaid, as beautiful as ever,
although she gave the impression that she was a bit tired.
"Oh, my dear mermaid," the girl replied, "I did as you told me," and she reported about what had
happened. The girl noticed a tear, as precious as a pearl, in each eye of the mermaid, while she
spoke, "My dear child, you must learn to understand. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In order
to find someone who loves you, you must show your face." But the girl couldn't understand, "My
dear mermaid, I can't be like you. You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life."
"No, I am not," the mermaid replied, almost in pain. "Do as I told you." and once again she
disappeared so swiftly into the waves as if she were a wave herself.
Again the girl didn't know what to think of the strange advice she had been given and as always
kept it as a secret to herself. Many weeks of hard work and seclusion due to the heavy weather
passed by, before the small family would again go to the village to attend the Sunday mass. Like
always her father forced his daughter to look into the mirror and this time he very gravely urged her
to hide her ugliness and he fastened the veil even tighter. "It would be a sin to God to show
your face in public," he declared and with these words they went off to the village.
That day they were caught up in a heavy storm and it was a wearisome journey to reach the church
in time. The girl only felt secure, when they finally took their place in their usual pew, the heavy
rains pounding like fists against the roof of the church and the winds howling as loud as sirens. All
through mass the steady heavy raging storm was shouting to the girl, "Beauty is in the eye of the
beholder," and every time the girl looked up she noticed someone staring at her. More and more she
had the impression that everyone was looking at her as she remembered the mermaid's words, "you
must show your face!"
Finally, as the storm was thundering at its fiercest and the whole parish community seemed to stare
at her unabashedly, she couldn't resist the urge anymore and in a sudden swift move she removed
her veil. At the same moment a heavy streak of lightning lit up the church with a tremendous pound
shaking the whole building. The parish community shrieked in fear of the storm and in disgust at
the girl's undisguised face as her father let out a scream of outlandish rage. For the first and last
time ever he slapped her across the face and drove her from the church with his scornful words.
"You stupid ugly child! What has happened to your mind!" he shouted at her. The girl fought off
his painful grip and exclaimed, "the mermaid told me to do it!" and she ran off. Her father stood
there dumbstruck and completely incapable of responding. Only after he was surrounded by the
shocked villagers did he find his voice again, "my daughter has gone out of her mind!" He ran off
after his child with the whole village behind him.
The girl did not know where to go to. She was running in direction of her home, but she knew she
never wanted to enter that house again. Completely unaware of the strain of running such a distance
in an angry storm, she never halted or slowed her speed, until she reached the only place she could
imagine to flee to, the beach. The waves were towering higher than ever before, tearing down onto
the beach like avalanches. Their roaring drowned out any other sound, even that of the thundering
storm. This time the girl didn't hear the wonderful melody she had become so acquainted with, but
now she heard the music of a tremendous orchestra screaming a monumental symphony of the
almighty sea. The girl was crying and crying, in vain trying to out scream the symphony.
"My dear child of the land, why are you crying again?" she heard the mermaid's voice. There she
was, once again, laying on the sand of the tormented beach, more beautiful than ever. This time
she didn't seem tired, she very obviously made the impression of being exhausted. The girl cried, "I
did as you told me! Don't tell me again that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You are beautiful, I
am ugly!" And she went on with the story of what had just happened in the church. As the
mermaid listened tears began to fill her eyes and one after the other they dropped and dropped and
dropped, ever rapidly, together shaping the most precious pearl chain in the world. Finally, the
mermaid was crying bitterly, holding her hands to her face. In her sobs the girl could hear her
words, "Don't you see, my dearest pretty child, don't you see that I love you!"
Many legends are told about what had happened there at the beach in that terrible storm. Some say
the girl was swallowed by a gigantic wave. Others say it was as if the girl were a wave herself. Still
others decline having ever seen anything but the angry tide. The truth is that the girl's scarf that had
always hidden her face was found lying on the beach, soaked and torn and so dirty that it was at
first not recognized as being hers. Two days later, a fishing boat that had been caught by the
evil storm and miraculously survived the ocean's attacks for three days, arrived safely home to the
village. The fishermen brought with them the body of a drowned girl they had found floating in the
sea after the storm had calmed down. As the body was wearing the Sunday dress of the missing girl
the father was fetched to confirm the corpse's identity. He was the only person in the world who
knew what his daughter looked like.
The villagers to this day say that the poor dead girl had the most beautiful face and that she had a
content smile as if she were in perfect rest. When the father saw the face, he said, "This is most
obviously not my daughter! It is impossible. She is someone else's daughter." So, as his daughter's
body was never found, her torn scarf was buried in unholy earth without a cross or a stone, because
the priest refused to give her a burial after the incident in the church. The unknown girl's body,
however, was buried in the churchyard. And to this day you can see the cross on her grave and the
inscription, "The Beauty From the Sea."