January thirtieth, nineteen thirty-three
“Adolf Hitler became Reichskanzler on January thirtieth, nineteen thirty-three. The Weimar Republic had run out of time, und das Land der Dichter und Denker was about to sink into barbarism. I barely paid attention when those criminals took over. I was busy making movies.”
“He came into my room one night…
“He came into my room one night, woke me from a deep sleep, and told me he changed the title of the movie. Now he wanted to call it Twenty-Twelve, Or The Hair-Raising Adventures of Captain Darius Silko, Heir of Mulberry Island and Leader of His Legendary Crew of Anti-Corporate Pirates of the Gaia II and Their Friends and Protectors, the Noble Mayan Nation of Xunantanich and Their Spiritual Descendents.”
Marty paused, waiting for a response. “That’d be hard to fit on a poster,” Mina said.
Mina stumbled and fell headlong into her apartment, smacking her knees and the palms of her hands on the hardwood floor. She bit her lip, cursed, resisted the temptation to cry. Rubbing her bruised joints, she turned to see what had tripped her.
Anyway, the movie.
I don’t know what I expected, honestly. Something ponderous and silent, German expressionism or whatever. It started with the logo I’d already sort of seen in our apartment, holding the film up to the kitchen lights. Then, a pair of huge eyes: a close-up of a little girl, staring straight into the camera. Her father, who we don’t see, Peanuts-style, is reading her a bedtime story. The cover of the book he’s reading from supplies the title credit: Tulpendiebe.