Raindance 2013 line-up announced

But did they make a mistake in putting Julian Assange on their jury?

Review: Ain't Them Bodies Saints

Rooney Mara is fantastic in this delicate, sun-soaked Western

Review: About Time

Ever since I was a boy, I always wondered about voice-overs...

Film review: Wadjda

Every now and then, a film comes along that changes the world. Sometimes, you don't even realise it's doing it.

World War H – or hate’s not all that

What do Shyamalan, World War Z and Man of Steel have in common? Hype - and hate.

https://i-flicks.net/components/com_gk2_photoslide/images/thumbm/222186raindance.jpg https://i-flicks.net/components/com_gk2_photoslide/images/thumbm/289307aint_them.jpg https://i-flicks.net/components/com_gk2_photoslide/images/thumbm/600165about_time__1_.jpg https://i-flicks.net/components/com_gk2_photoslide/images/thumbm/276452wadjda_top.jpg https://i-flicks.net/components/com_gk2_photoslide/images/thumbm/783758world_war_h.jpg


iFlicks on Twitter

Home Blog Features The Die Hard Diaries: Hans Gruber
The Die Hard Diaries: Hans Gruber Print E-mail
Written by Ivan Radford   
Tuesday, 12 February 2013 23:32

Hans Gruber's Diary

With A Good Day to Die Hard in cinema tomorrow, it seems like the perfect time to dig out an old artefact that I found in the bloody pulp on the pavement outside Nakatomi Plaza a few decades ago: Hans Gruber's Die Hard diary. His DieHardary, if you will. (That needs work.)


Here are some of my favourite excerpts from Christmas, 1988.


Friday 23rd December




Big day tomorrow so had an early night. Sausage. Bath. Groomed Klaus*.


*(Have decided that is what I shall call my beard)



Christmas Eve




Woke up early. Sausage for breakfast.






Picked up my suit from dry cleaners ready for tonight. The black one. I look good in black.






Met up with Theo, Kristoff, Franco, Tony, Alexander, Marco, Eddie, Uli, Heinrich and James. Karl is always late.  I don't much care for Karl.






Arriving at Nakatomi Plaza. Ate sausage in the car on the way. I have a good feeling about this.






Ah, Nakatomi, your wealth stretches high into the sky like a giant, steel-clad sausage. May take up poetry writing again. I’m quite good.






There’s nothing like crashing a classy office party with machine guns. Haven’t felt this sprightly since kindergarten. About to make a speech – I LOVE making speeches.


Someone told me I sound like Alan Rickman the other day.


(Mental note: Find out who Alan Rickman is.)


The elevators here are quite fancy.






Took AGES to find an office to use as base – half of them were full of worthless employees having sex.


Managed to find Takagi. HE WEARS THE SAME SUITS AS ME! Really hope I don’t have to shoot him now. We might become friends. Plus it would be such a waste of good tailoring.






Suit ruined. Schizer.






You know what? It was his own stupid fault for not talking. I counted to three and everything.


(Mental note: Learn what comes after three. A man in my position can’t afford to only know three numbers. I blame my brother Simon. He had all the maths lessons at school. Still, I’m not the one with a speech impediment. I bet HE doesn’t sound like Alan Rickman.)


(Still need to find out how Alan Rickman is.)






Hmmm. Some asshole is running around upstairs and set off the fire alarm. Easily dealt with. Still, unexpected. I wanted this to be professional and simple. Have sent Heinrich, Tony and Marco to find him.


(By find him, I mean kill him. Was that clear? I never got the hang of this villains-talking-in-vague-euphemism thing.)






Off to do my Alan Rickman voice again for the hostages. May try one of my jokes out. Or my Santa Claus impression.


(Mental note: Practise saying “Ho. Ho. Ho.”)






ARGH. EVERYTHING’S GONE HORRIBLY WRONG. Tony came down in the elevator with a Santa hat on and a message from the asshole upstairs. Moved his body into one of the offices so the hostages don’t get the wrong idea.


No one laughed at my joke. Sad face.






Our mystery guest just tried to use the radio again. Sent Karl off to find him. Think he may have my C4 explosives and detonators.






Bored. It’s been 10 minutes and still no word. Read through TIME Magazine – those Asian Dawn people sound cool – but nothing interesting.






Some fat policeman has turned up wanting to look around but he seems harmless.


May open my mail.






Great. Another letter from the Oxford English Dictionary refusing to update the definition of “Common Thief” to include “not Hans Gruber”. Tried to explain to them I was an *exceptional* thief. They wouldn’t accept that as a legitimate argument.






OMG, Marco’s body just got thrown out of the window onto that policeman’s car! This is not good. Asked everyone to shoot the car. That seems to have done the trick. What did I say, diary? Exceptional.






Finally spoke to our mystery guest. He’s an American. I hate Americans. They’re all cowboys. He calls himself Roy. Even my beard has a better name than that.


Cowboy said something weird on the radio. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.” Must found out what it means.






There’s now a SWAT team surrounding the building. Puny policeman running around outside like tiny little ants. Ants are no match for Klaus.


(Maybe I should call the beard Fritz instead. Sounds more manly.)






A woman called Holly Gennero just came in to ask for toilet breaks. She seems smart. Ridiculously huge hair, though.





Rockets are fun. I like things blowing up.








It made me spill some of my organic smoothie on my suit.


I don’t like things blowing up.






This is turning into a long evening. Some guy just knocked on my door to talk to this Roy. Says his name is John McClane. Have decided to trust him – he has a beard too. It is obviously not as good as mine. May tell him that if I get bored.






Had phone call with John McClane. Have passed the walkie-talkie over to the idiot with the rubbish beard. This should at least be mildly entertaining.





He’s STILL on the phone. Keep doodling pictures of him with a bullet in his head.






Got bored, so I shot him. What a waste of my time. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people wasting my time. That and cats. And stray beard hairs.






Made a list of pretend demands to the FBI. They believed all of them. Wish I included sausages. Or at least a foot massage. Or Cliff Richard, just for a laugh. Still have to make good on my bet with Franco to use the phrase “Shoot the glass”. If I manage it before midnight, he owes me a sausage.






Have given up on waiting for the others to find this McClane and get me my detonators. If you want something doing, do it yourself.






YES! Finally unmasked this McClane fellow. He’s clearly an idiot. Got back my detonators too AND I used the phrase “Shoot the glass”. Everything’s coming up Gruber. Now off to the vault...






FBI cut the power, just as predicted. Not long until the vault opens. I could buy my own Oxford English Dictionary with all that money. First entry? “EXCEPTIONAL THIEF: Hans Gruber.”






The FBI think they have me beaten with helicopters. Hilarious. Karl’s gone off to kill McClane once and for all. Thank goodness - his weird boggly eyes were starting to freak my out. Does it hurt to blink once in a while?






Blowing up things is fun. May go and find a sausage.





THIS IS JUST TOO GOOD NOT TO WRITE DOWN. That woman from earlier, Holly? The one with the hair? She’s McClane’s WIFE. LOL.






Have taken McClane’s wife hostage. Waiting for John to come to the rescue like the stupid cowboy he is. Checked beard in mirror. Klaus looks good. What could possibly go wrong?



A Good Day to Die Hard is in UK cinemas on Thursday 14th February. Read our review here.