GOSKINO, RUSSIA and FILM STUDIO "ROCK"
present
a film by Aleksey Uchitel
Here, take some medicine. Now lie quietly. Better now?
- Has it helped? - Not yet.
It's alright. Shut your eyes. I'll talk to you.
We haven't talked for ages. Look what I've found.
Galia gave you this. Water?
Galia bought it with her own money while Marga was staying.
God, to think of all we've been through together!
Galia, Marga, Lionya...
Lionya was in love with me, you know. He courted me.
But I couldn't love him.
I've never been able to love anybody, except you.
Yes, I know you loved Galia. Here, drink some water.
I knew you'd realize one day that you hadn't anybody but me.
Of course you hadn't. Nobody else would have put up with you.
Do you suppose I enjoyed our life?
It was a terrible life. But now it's going to change.
You'll write, I'll type for you, we'll live together, quietly.
It'll be like old times. perhaps not quite.
You're getting old. And I'm glad in a way.
You won't go running off. Look, I've untied this
Look. Jan, are you asleep?
Jan, do you hear? What's the matter?
Oh my God-wait. Get up. You must get up.
I'll help you.
Get up! You're so heavy! Jan, get up!
Jan...
HIS WIFE'S DIARY
How did it start? That autumn Jan seemed years younger.
He had his hair cut short, and shaved off his beard.
We went off to Grasse. The three of us.
He always gets his own way.
I started keeping a diary, to stop myself going mad.
He told his friends that Galia was his student.
All he told me was: from now on she's going to live with us.
Galia, you're blocking the sun.
- The sun's not shining. - What?
Pity.
I'm sorry to bother you. I'm looking for Mr Bunin.
He's swimming.
Ah-yes. The name's Gurov. I'm a writer.
I'm from Pskov.
pleased to meet you.
- You must be Madame Bunin! - I am Madame Bunin.
- I'm so sorry. - What can I do for you?
I have a letter for Mr Bunin from the Nobel family.
How's that? Have they moved to Pskov?
No, I lived there. I've just come from Stockholm.
Here's Ivan Alekseyevich.
My dear Ivan Alekseyevich! How do you do?
What a great privilege it is to meet the last Russian genius.
Allow me to use the occasion...
- What's that? - Some writer.
Gurov. Leonid Gurov.
- Didn't you write to me? - Yes, but never mind that.
I've brought you a letter from the Nobel commission.
Ivan Alekseyevich! You've been nominated for the Nobel prize!
I'm sorry I can't receive you properly, Mr Gurov.
I'm wet, as you can see.
And I detest meeting people when I'm bathing.
Perhaps I picked a bad time...
It's his third nomination. Nothing ever comes of it.
It just makes him irritated.
- A genius... - Do you think so?
- I'm sorry if I've offended you. - It's alright.
The Nobel prize is a taboo subject in our household.
There are many odd things about our household.
- I'm sorry... - It's alright.
- She's Galia Plotnikova. - Careful...
A student of Ivan Alekseyevich's He teaches her to write poetry.
- She's not from Kiev, is she? - Probably.
He's not how I imagined. Somehow he seems...
- Smaller? - Yes! No!
- That Nobel chap's staying here? - Ssh! What do you suggest?
We can't throw him out. Where would he go? He's all alone.
He says his father was a vice-minister under Kerensky.
He ended up as a doorman in Stockholm, and died in poverty.
The usual story. In my experience
emigr,es are always ministers at the very least.
The waitress is invariably a duchess, and every coachman
- Or do I mean taxi-driver? - turns out to be a general.
God knows where the Russian army found so many generals.
- I bet he's a fraud. - Quiet!
There's no need to get angry. He really admires you.
He says he analyzes the harmony of your prose using algebra.
- Algebra? - Yes. - Another crank.
- Jan! - Sorry, Vera.
Hurry up. We're coming!
Leonid, give us some news.
news? Well your chances...
Ivan Alekseyevich, show our visitor the garden.
Vera Nikolayevna can clear up, then we'll come back for tea.
Of course. Vera Nikolayevna can clear up.
- She's the maid, after all. - I'll help you.
You two will be the death of me.
It's a house full of neurotics.
I'm a calm well-balanced man. It doesn't bother me
So what's new in the world?
This may sound tactless, Ivan Alekseyevich...
but I do find your wife a charming and beautiful woman.
- I'm sorry, Vera Nikolayevna. - Thank you.
Bravo, Lionya! Perfectly put! Now what about some vodka?
- You do drink vodka? - Actually no. Maybe today...
He doesn't even drink vodka! We've taken in an angel!
Well, at least someone finds me attractive. It feels nice.
And it even got to Jan. He hates it when men flatter me.
I insisted that Lionya stay with us.
Let Jan suffer a little!
Then maybe he'll remember who his wife is
- Aren't you asleep? - Come in.
I came to say goodnight.
Now go to bed, or you'll get another of your headaches.
Galia, let me in.
I said let me in!
Stop playing the fool!
Damn women!
He lay down beside her, comma...
and drew close, comma...
- You dictate awfully slowly. - I can't read his writing.
Because you don't understand what you're reading.
You can only read it if you let your heart guess his thoughts.
Carry on.
I'm a poet, not a secretary.
And I used to be a scientist.
it's perfectly clear.
She drew away...
What?
She drew away...
Vera Nikolayevna! Lionya! We're off to the cinema.
The cinema...
- She's beautiful. - Who?
- Galia. She's beautiful. - Galia? Not my type.
- What? Why not? - I prefer other women.
- Really? What sort? - More... well, pure.
Kind, devoted women. Like you.
- I'm sorry. Are you angry? - Me? Do I look angry?
- You must be angry. - Oh really! -I shouldn't have.
- I'm not angry. Not a bit! - I think you are.
- I can see you are. - Don't go on about it.
- You're not angry? - Of course not.
- I don't believe you. - I swear it!
- You know... - What?
If you're not angry, may I kiss your hand?
- I've been cleaning fish! - So?
Lionya...
What are you doing? It's dirty.
My hand's terribly dirty.
I'll wipe it on my apron.
That's the phone. The phone!
Hello? I can't hear! Stockholm?
Sorry?
Yes, I understand.
Lionya, go and get him. Hurry!
Thank you.
Ivan Alekseyevich... They called from Stockholm.
Congratulations! You won!
They're going to call again.
No, I'll stay a bit longer.
I knew this would happen.
I was cracking walnuts and I thought: this is it!
- Are you sure it was Stockholm? - Quite sure! I checked.
Vera Nikolayevna answered it. I couldn't believe this.
- I must talk to him. - No, don't go!
He needs to be alone. I know what it's like.
- We'll leave him alone then. - Definitely.
we went to Paris for the first time together, the three of us.
I thought people had forgotten about the Nobel prize long ago
and were only talking about our strange set-up.
Galina Nikolayevna, let's go to Nice, to England...
- I'm as good as your Bunin. - And you have a fianc,e.
I've no such thing. Let's go!
- You left another one? - I'm a writer too, you know.
The future will decide who is better-me or Bunin.
You know, maybe I should take a lover too
Stop being so vulgar.
So if it's you it's love, if it's me it's vulgar.
Exactly. You should know that by now.
Let the lady past. Now let's drop the subject.
- I want to leave! - Vera...
- Galia! Where have you been? - I'm going home.
What? Did you two plan this! What on earth is the matter?
- I'm not a child, you know. - Wait! I'll get my coat.
Let me go, damn you!
Galia, stop! You'll catch a cold - You haven't got your overshoes!
- I hate being humiliated! - Humiliated?
Don't you realize? All the nasty gossip about us?
They don't dare talk in front of you.
But they talk to me as if I were a whore! It's unbearable!
I keep hearing about your wife, and someone called Odoyevtseva.
- You chase every skirt! - You're jealous!
- What's so funny about that? - I don't believe this!
You're crying about some silly young girls.
Get up. You'll get dirty.
Incredible! Now I'm going to cut you up and eat you!
- And they all went together? - Yes.
At first Vera said: if Galia's going, I'm not going.
And Bunin said: don't ruin the happiest days of my life.
Who does Galia pose as?
His student. The papers are full of pictures.
Nobel prize winner Bunin with his wife and...
the poetess Plotnikova, the writer's student.
And Vera? She puts up with it?
What can she do? As she says: the wife of a genius.
She tried to convince me Ivan and Galia are just friends.
She doesn't believe it herself.
I don't know what Galia gets out of it.
Nonsense, Marga. You know very well.
He's a great writer, and a charming man.
And besides, what would she live on?
God, I'm sick of borscht!
- Champagne, everyone! - The ball will now recommence!
A toast to His Highness, the King of Sweden!
- I adored the Crown Prince. - Yes, wasn't he sweet?
- Did you see my princess? - Yes!
Lovely woman, divinely beautiful - She hasn't read my books,
but when she does, she'll know she has met a great talent.
Who was that old rogue I saw you whispering to?
- He's a painter. - Could be worse.
Vera's got a prince, Galia's got a painter, and all...
- Thanks to you! - Wasn't my speech splendid?
Under the stress of the moment I almost shat myself.
They'd have forgiven me. Nobel laureate soils his pants!
I got the bloody Nobel! Bunin! And fuck all for the Soviets!
- Do stop, Jan. - Let's drink a toast-to me!
- Quiet! - Ladies and gentlemen,
we are gathered here today to honour our laureate,
that lion of Russian letters.
We all know his sensibility,
his selfless dedication and boyish bashfulness,
Those attributes that bind us to him for eternity.
We don't give a damn about his work.
If he wants to write, let him. Just not too much.
And let him not forget that Russia doesn't need Bunin.
Russia needs Gorki! Ladies and gentlemen, your health!
Which coach shall we start with, Herr Inspector?
- At last! We're at the border. - Did you hide the gun? -Why?
- If they find it you'll get arrested. - Why me?
- They won't search a laureate. - I'd better open the paper.
The front page, so they'll see.
I can't wait to get home.
Let me. Come in!
Good morning. Passports, please.
- We don't speak German. - Passports and luggage, please.
- We don't speak German. - Open that case, please.
- The cheek! Tell them who I am. - I just did.
This is a scandal!
It'll be in all the newspapers! This is unheard of!
Get out! Go on, off with you! I said out, you imbecile!
- Calm down, they'll arrest us! - Do they take us for criminals?
How dare you! At least show some respect for my age!
Are you helping the bastards?
Calm down.
- Scoundrels! - Be careful!
How dare you!
- I am a Nobel prize winner! - Alright, Jan. Stop shouting.
- Are you on their side? - Of course not.
Fucking hell! Krauts!
How dare you!
You'll be sorry for this!
- There are ladies present! - You have no right to do this!
Galia, please, leave.
Let me out!
Galia, turn round.
Enough?
Goodbye. Have a pleasant journey.
Get dressed.
- They've ruined my suit. - Why?
I hate it. Get me another one.
I'll fetch it. Put something on, or you'll get cold.
Get dressed, Ivan Alekseyevich
I'll go out.
Stay with him, Galia. I'll give him his dressing-gown.
- Maybe he's better left alone. - He might jump off the train.
I asked you to do something!
Here's your dressing-gown.
Would you rather be alone?
Lie down and have a rest. Shall I go away?
Don't get upset about them. They're not worth it.
How could they?
After he got the Nobel prize we often had friends to stay.
Today Alia and Sonya came over for a picnic.
Alia used to avoid us for months.
Though he tried to hide it, I think he envied Jan.
Maybe he wants to borrow money.
Sonya doesn't need money. She's a millionaire.
The best thing to do with your prize money is to buy shares.
You didn't exactly make a fortune out of shares.
- I'd buy a house by the sea. - Buy it before the money's gone.
Or perhaps a house, or a big apartment in Paris.
Maybe both.
I've told Ivan Alekseyevich he should go into publishing.
- He won't listen. - You must be mad, Gurov!
There are more Russian publishers than readers.
As an old capitalist let me tell you: it's tedious.
I'd sell a factory and live on the income.
We're old and sick. All we need is a house and a decent cook...
What about Galia Nikolayevna?
The cork's rotten.
- Have you asked Galia? - We will, when she gets back.
She's sick. We left her at the Kovtuns' in Paris.
I don't know about Dr Kovtun, but his sister is dangerous.
- To pretty girls... - Be quiet, Alia.
My brother and his wife are out. I've come to put on your cups.
Turn over onto your front and pull up your nightdress.
- Turn away, Marga. - Don't be silly. I'm not a man.
May I ask you something?
Have they been telling you Bad things about me?
- Of course not. - I'm very fond of men, Galia,
but my last boyfriend was an invalid army officer
who didn't have a left eye or a left arm.
He used to run round the bed at night, howling.
Goodness, what am I doing? I'll set the place on fire.
Just lie down and relax.
- Turn over. - I got such a fright.
- Did he have a right one? - A right arm? Oh yes.
- How did he run if he was lame? - He had crutches.
- Will it hurt? - Only a little.
- It's pulling at me. - Be brave.
- When can I take them off? - They'll come off on their own.
You'll have browns spots, like a leopard.
- Forever? - They'll be gone by the time you're married.
Thank goodness! I thought you were never coming back.
How do you feel?
Better.
You look great. I've got something for you.
- Mine? - Yours.
Published at last!
Give me a match. A match...
You've started smoking?
Marga taught me.
How was it at the Kovtuns'?
Fine.
Marga looked after me.
- Can we invite her here? - Why not? -Good.
I missed you terribly.
Let's tell him to stop. I want to walk.
Is something wrong?
No.
We're getting out here. Take our bags to Villa Jeannette.
This is full of misprints! It's unbelievable!
Sorry, I'm out of sorts today.
I was at the publishers. They didn't give me any money.
They're not getting another word from me!
Did they take the poems?
Yours yes. Mine no. As usual!
Isn't it lovely here?
After we're gone, all this will still be the same.
La Belle France! The most beautiful country on earth.
What about Russia?
The Russia I knew is gone forever.
I can't accept it. Like death.
I can't imagine never seeing Moscow again, or the village...
I'm not afraid of death. It disgusts me.
There's nothing after it.
Perhaps for some people. But not for me.
Just darkness. Emptiness.
Why do I hate the Bolsheviks? That gang of revolutionaries?
They're like that sect of eunuchs. Somehow unfeeling.
Those sexless faces! Castrated. The people changing life,
Don't have a clue what life's about-they can't love.
It's like with a woman: you have to love all of her.
Even her tears and tantrums and fat thighs.
But they love an ideal. An idea. They want to improve on God.
These Talentless creatures are destroying the world.
Life, happiness, hope... Better to hang yourself.
Marga is beautiful, isn't she, Ivan Alekseyevich?
She's alright. A bit monumental.
- I think she's lovely. - Hello you boys!
- Vera Nikolayevna! - Will anybody join me?
I will, Vera Nikolayevna! I'll join you in spirit!
A regular sea-nymph!
- You'II drown! -What a subject for a budding photographer!
- 'Writer with entourage.' - Put that damn thing away, Marga!
That I can do without.
Jan! The water's wonderful!
- It's so lovely. So peaceful. - You call this peace?
I mean here, in Grasse. I love provence.
You've grown more beautiful since your illness, Galia.
Thank you.
Lionya, don't you find everyone a little touchy today?
Stay with us and you will understand.
You have no idea how the great man tyrannizes,
torments and humiliates the woman who loves him.
- You mean Galia? - I mean Vera Nikolayevna.
You must love her very much.
Who?
Vera Nikolayevna.
Is it so obvious?
poor Lionya. It must be hard.
Sometimes it's quite unbearable.
- I often think: why do I stay? - Then leave.
No, I can't leave her. I have to save her.
You are a honourable man. I admire your feelings.
Thank you.
- What feelings? - All of them.
Vera Nikolayevna!
Lionya. I think she's drowning.
Vera Nikolayevna!
Jan! Help, I'm drowning!
I'm drowning!
- What? - Vera Nikolayevna!
- Jump in and pull her out! - Just a moment...
I'm coming.
I'm just coming!
- I can't swim. - What?
- I can't swim! - I'll go in then.
Hold on, Vera Nikolayevna!
- Galia! Come, quick! - What's happened?
Galia!
Ivan Alekseyevich, there's been an accident!
- Oh my God, what's happened? - Vera Nikolayevna is drowning!
- Then jump into the sea! - Me? The sea? Come quickly!
- Is she alive? Is she breathing? - Take my hat.
- Galia, get a firm grip on her! - Hold down her leg!
What the hell were you playing at! You swim like a brick!
Vera, whatever came over you? I nearly died of shock!
My leg hurts.
- It's your fault, Jan! - Mine? Where were you going?
- You said: You'll drown! - Don't talk nonsense!
We must get her to a doctor. Find a car.
- You called her a sea nymph. - Did I?
- Thank you. - Marga rescued you!
- Are you feeling better? - Yes.
They're coming! They're on their way!
Hurry up with that stretcher!
Just coming!
First degree hypothermia.
Pallor, loss of sensation, bluish colour, swelling...
- That's it. Vera Nikolayevna! - Yes?
In such cases hot drinks are indicated: tea, coffee, alcohol.
- At last! Did you get it? - I got it and spent it.
- A present for you. - What is it? -Royalties?
- For you, Vera Nikolayevna. - What a splendid scarf!
- And this is for you. - What, not a life-ring? -Really!
- Where's Marga? - In the garden.
- What a beautiful pen... - Thank you.
Where are you off to? She'll be back in a minute.
Complications: stiffness, erysipelas, phlegmon, sepsis...
- Untie it, please. - Why did you tangle it?
...exhaustion... - Exhaustion?
- Marga! At last I've found you. - Hello, Galia.
- This is for you. - For me?
Thank you.
A cigarette-case. You've spent all your money.
I've still got some left.
- Be careful. I'm dangerous. - How?
Remember what happened to that army officer?
Marga...
Cigarette smoke, the thin line of eyebrows, her velvet voice.
Steel of beautiful eyes.
I don't know which of us first accepted that this time
we were helpless.
Something widow-like smouldered in us both,
waiting at the bed-head, rigid, with downcast eyes.
I was incapable of imagining anything of the sort.
That's why I slept all night - The only one who did.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
- Coffee? -No thanks, I won't eat.
Ivan Alekseyevich, will you offer me a cigarette?
I thought singers didn't smoke.
I smoke very little.
And I don't sing any more.
See if he's alright, Lionya.
Yes.
You might learn some discretion!
Ivan Alekseyevich!
Don't forget your papers.
Shall I take this?
- Yes. - All right.
- He'll be furious. Stay here. - Don't be afraid.
- Marga, leave us alone. - Yes, Ivan Alekseyevich.
Galia! Come to your senses! This is insane!
It's unnatural!
Don't try and stop me, Ivan. I've made up my mind. We...
It's not possible! You're mad! You're hallucinating!
Maybe I am. Let me go! It's all your fault anyway!
How does she kiss you?
Where? Show me! I'll learn how!
I hate you.
- I'll do anything you want! - Let go! You're hurting me!
What's going on, Jan?
Get out of my sight, Vera! Go to hell!
- I won't let you go! - I love her, not you!
Marga...
- Dear Marga... - Ivan Alekseyevich...
Don't take Galia away, please! You're still young...
- I have nothing but her. - Don't grovel, for God's sake!
Marga, I can't bear this!
- Marga, I beseech you! - Ivan Alekseyevich...
Galia isn't a thing, you know.
Curse you! Both of you!
Jan, wait!
What are you looking for?
- Where did you put the pistol? - What pistol?
That ladies' pistol we had!
No! You're not getting it!
- Stop it! - Let go
Let me go! You can't have it!
How vulgar. How disgusting.
He's like a madman, wandering about all day spending money.
He gives money to strangers. He drinks, though he shouldn't.
He's stopped writing, reading, even going to the cinema!
- Vera Nikolayevna? - Yes, I'm Vera Nikolayevna.
Vera Nikolayevna asked him to employ a cook.
Do you suppose he did, Lionya? Of course he didn't!
Where is he now? Where? Nobody knows.
I just sit here and wait. All he thinks about is Galia and Marga.
Marga actually wrote me a letter. Guess what she said?
She asked me to forgive her. Whatever for?
Putting an end to that ghastly situation? I should thank her!
I'll tell Ivan Alekseyevich to get a cook.
Vera Nikolayevna, wait! I have something to tell you.
- What do you want to tell me? - You are tired.
- Let's take a trip to Nice. - Yes, brilliant idea.
We'll leave him here alone to shoot himself in peace.
Really Lionya! And I thought you were the sensible one!
- I love you, Vera Nikolayevna! - That's marvellous!
You love me, I love him, he loves Galia,
and Galia loves Marga. God almighty!
It's straight out of an opera.
Did you say something?
Monsieur Bunin! Good morning.
How are things? Cognac?
- Have you heard the bad news? - My radio's broken.
The Huns have taken paris.
Really?
It's awful! Who'd have thought they would get to paris? Shit!
Another cognac, please.
It's gone up. Six hundred.
- A bottle? - No, a glass.
I'm sorry. It's the suppliers. Things are scarce.
In Paris they say everyone is drinking beer!
Poor France!
I'll tell you what. You can pay the old price.
- Am I disturbing you? - Yes. - I'll join you anyway.
- I thought we'd never find you! - Where are you taking me?
- Alia is leaving. - I want to say goodbye.
- You're leaving us? - Yes, tomorrow.
- Escaping from the war? - Yes, that as well.
- Will you be gone long? - Forever, I should think.
- Where are you going? - Russia.
- What? - You heard. Russia.
- Are you mad? - That's what you all say.
Hitler's in Paris, and you are just sitting here.
You'll end up in a concentration camp. Then we'II see who's mad.
There'll be no war in Russia.
- They've promised me a house, a car... - The Lenin Order?
If I'm offered it, I'll accept. I'm not proud.
I'll accept the prizes, if not the Nobel, the Stalin.
To hell with the Bolsheviks! I'm going home.
You don't have a home anymore. What home? You're mad!
- The Bolsheviks stole your home. - Everybody wants you back, too.
They'd welcome you with bells. you could live like a man!
You little shit.
I could smash your face.
- What? You swine! - No, stop it! Don't!
Go! No one's stopping you!
Madmen! You won't meet again!
Go to hell!
- Madame? - Yes?
Don't forget to put out the lights before you leave.
You don't want the English dropping bombs on us, do you?
- I always put them out. - Then tell your girlfriend, too.
We don't want any of your Russian bohemian ways here!
Everything's terribly expensive. I didn't buy a thing.
Why don't you put the light out?
I met the neighbours. They're afraid of the bombing.
- I'm scared they'II report us. - Me, you mean. You're not a Jew.
I won't stand by and watch them take you off to a camp.
- We must leave. At once. - Where to?
- Grasse. - And you have money for a room?
We'll go to the Bunins.
My dear, are you crazy?
Can you imagine it?
Hello, Ivan Alekseyevich! Hello, Vera Nikolayevna!
Well, here we are. Quite a surprise, eh?
We're not exactly strangers. Something like that?
- Somehow I doubt it. - I'm not a stranger, to them.
If Ivan loves me, he can do something to help me.
Gurov's still there with them. They don't mind.
You're right. It's not so wise.
No. You're an unbelievable...
Bitch.
Yes, a bitch. I adore you.
Have you a better idea? I haven't.
We can stay with them for a few months,
and then try and get out to Switzerland or America.
That sounds good. Will you write to him?
Hell no! You can deal with him yourself.
Dear Ivan Alekseyevich, Dear Vera Nikolayevna...
- Are we well? Sorry, Lionya. - That's alright.
Fantastic! All we're fucking missing is you two!
- What a bloody cheek! - Don't get upset. Calm down.
It's unbelievable! In my home of all places!
- Look, Marga's life's in danger. - Should I burst into tears?
- I'll dance on her grave! - What a thing to say!
We should be sorry for her. They have nowhere to go.
No. I'd rather die!
Oh, I won't be any trouble!
I'll dig my own grave!
Then I'll lie in it! Just fill it in properly!
Right. I won't be long.
You've done it again. You've upset Vera Nikolayevna.
Tell me, Lionya. Will Hitler take Moscow?
He's sure to.
Russia has no officers. There's no one left to fight.
We should be glad.
The monsters will devour one another-then we can go home.
Glad?
Have you any idea what you're saying?
- We're talking about Russia! - Not Russia. The Soviet Union.
You don't understand, do you? Our parents are buried there.
- Your mother's buried there. - Leave my mother out of it!
Idiot. Fool.
- Shouldn't we write to them? - Not that again! Go away!
God, how can you stand it, Vera Nikolayevna?
Poor thing, how do you stand it?
- Vera! - What?
- Where are you? - Here. Where are you?
- Write and tell them to come. - I'll write this minute.
- You're a good man, Jan. - What a loathsome creature!
Who?
Hitler! Thanks to him I have to live with that couple again!
Jan, you're wonderful!
- You poor thing! - Well at least they're coming.
I've no money, no home. My wife is about to leave me.
So what am I left with, Sonya, apart from haemorrhoids?
- Vera will never leave you. - Exactly!
Neither will Galia and Marga.
To my infinite regret, nobody will ever leave me!
My only companion is the radio, but it gives me little pleasure.
I wanted to shoot myself, but Vera took away the pistol.
She said she threw it away. What a lie! They all lie to me.
Nobody tells the truth. The Russians lie, the Germans lie.
- I hear they're near the Volga. - They haven't taken Stalingrad.
Shame on you, Sonya! There is no such town.
It's called Tsaritsyn.
Sound the alarm! Humanity, awake!
The Nobel laureate's family is dying of hunger!
- Do you mean yourself? - No, Vera Nikolayevna.
We must evacuate her!
Watch this!
- Tomatoes! - Yes!
- Where did you get them? - I grew them in my room.
We are living like one big family again.
We black out the windows, though Grasse is unlikely to be bombed.
Jan doesn't speak to Galia or Marga.
I don't know why. But I like Marga.
She's quiet, level-headed. A kind of family for Galia.
It takes someone like me to live with Jan.
He complains we have no money.
Sonya managed to find some but it won't last long.
Lionya, you're being an absolute saint today!
We must leave one tomato for Ivan Alekseyevich.
- He can do without. - For you, Angel Lionya!
Let's burn some kindling and make a pot of tea.
There's no sugar.
Ivan Alekseyevich used up all the kindling himself.
Before he left on Sunday night he decided to take a hot bath.
It was my kindling. I was keeping it for an emergency.
And Ivan Alekseyevich took it. Who taught him to steal?
Tolstoy, or Chekhov? Just joking.
Not a single word to Ivan Alekseyevich!
Isn't it odd that he's been out three nights running?
No. He visitits his ladyfriends.
How can you say that, Lionya! He can't even afford cigarettes.
Ivan Alekseyevich has money.
A publisher in America sent him a hundred dollars-twice.
- How do you know? - I saw the letter-by chance.
- I can understand him, Lionya. - Why are you defending him?
- You are obviously very close. - You mean us?
Why are you so concerned about him, anyway?
- Me? -Yes! - Who? -You, Galia!
- Me? -Yes, exactly! - What makes you think that?
and that French girl of his...
- What utter nonsense! - No need to be so vehement.
- Lionya-thing before you speak! - My lips are sealed.
We were in the casino. He went to the toilet and disappeared.
I sat there and waited. I had no money on me.
When the band started packing up I realized he'd done a runner.
But I couldn't leave, I just sat rooted to my seat.
I was absolutely mortified!
They let me go without paying. But the contempt on their faces!
I wanted to die. No, this way.
Damn! Another power-cut.
I'll light a candle. Do you have any matches?
Yes. Here.
Sit down, Jean.
I've only got one glass.
You first.
Here's to you.
To you.
- You are lovely. - Thank you.
Last time I tried to say that you weren't so nice to me.
Can I have a cigarette?
Will you stay?
No? Why not?
- I shouldn't. - Don't you want to?
I'd like to. But I won't.
Here. Let me give you this.
- I won't take it. - Don't start arguing.
What do you take me for?
Take it. Some day you can pay me back.
- How will I find you? - Easy. Villa Jeannette.
So that's why you called me Jeannette.
Kiss me goodbye.
Goodnight, Jeanne.
Thank you, Jean.
Goodnight, Jean.
- I'll give you a hand. - My dear Lionya!
Let me kiss you! Forgive me. And I'll forgive you.
- Of course. - What a day!
I detest tomatoes! Especially green ones. But thank you.
- Here, Vita. - No! Don't! - Poor dog, she's hungry.
Listen, I met her in a cafe. She can come and stay with us.
What's one bitch more or less? Here's another two!
Vera! Ladies! Tonight we're celebrating!
The Russians whipped the German's arse on the Volga!
He's raving!
Ladies! Let me introduce you. Elizabetha Alexandrovna Stolz.
Maiden name: Pushkin.
The poet's granddaughter is thrilled about the victory.
- Are you his granddaughter? - Are you alright? -What?
Nice old girl, but deaf as a post.
I heard every word. The Russians whipped hitler's arse!
- Bravo. You're marvellous! - She's a Pushkin alright!
I don't understand, Jan. What did they do?
The Germans are in retreat. And in mourning!
The russians whipped hitler's arse
- Hurrah to that! - Hurrah!
What if they arrest us? They'll want reprisals.
Hurrah!
Life is so unpredictable. We might never have met.
- I'm going to write a novel. - I can't even write a diary.
I'm so confused. I don't know what matters any more.
- I've broken a glass. - Wait.
Stop it, Ivan. You're drunk. Someone might come in.
It's sheer torment.
I can't sleep. I can't work.
I think of you all the time. I have adolescent dreams.
You're walking past me, but I can't touch you.
Ivan...
I can't.
Is there no end to it?
That's five times your beastly dog has pissed in my bed!
If you don't put a stop this, I'm leaving! Do you hear?
Don't mind them. They've frightened the dog.
Sit! Stay!
Aren't you ashamed? pissing in Vera's bed!
Can't you go somewhere else?
Not even that filthy Gurov does things like that.
Vera doesn't piss in Galia's bed.
Marga doesn't either. Nor do I, for that matter, though I could.
It's not good tactics. You'll get nothing that way.
If you do it again, I'll serve you up to Gurov for dinner.
Alright, calm down. They've driven the poor dog mad!
Just wait till Gurov sinks his teeth into your little bum!
- Jan, are you utterly mad? - Why?
What's going on?
You can't sleep with that disgusting dog. It's got fleas.
Vita is cleaner than many of our friends.
You don't seem to mind that Galia sleeps with Marga.
God, you're infuriating!
You obviously love her more than me!
You should be in a madhouse! You're jealous of a dog!
So I'm jealous, am I? I already am in a madhouse!
- And Vita's a stupid name! - Vita in Latin means life.
And we both have a dog's life!
He sleeps with it, talks to it. I really think he's cracked up.
- Where did you get that cigar? - I was given it.
Wrong end.
He's trying to tell us how bad we are.
- That even the dog is better. - I think he really does love it.
It's living, it's warm. He needs it. Don't move, Lionya.
Well I think he just does it out of spite.
You may like dogs, Marga, but he never has.
Isn't that right, Sonya?
Sonya...
Sonya!
- Thank God! - Yes, that's right.
What are we doing in France? They've bombed my factory.
I have a rich sister in Chicago. When it's over, I'II go there.
She can support me somehow. There's plenty food in America.
That dog of his is tiny, but it could eat an elephant.
- Why an elephant? - An elephant, or any damn thing!
But we have nothing to eat. You can laugh if you like.
I'm beginning to understand Ivan Alekseyevich.
I got this strange parcel.
Inside there was warm underwear - A kind of vest and longjohns.
So out of curiosity I tried them on.
In the dark I put both feet in the same leg.
And I had this awful thought:
Supposing I were to die now? This is how they'd find me.
With both legs stuck in one leg of the longjohns!
Then I had a good laugh and felt much better.
'Tell him that you love me, that nothing will ever part us.'
She raised her wet face, and suddenly we were kissing.
Clasping her close, I led her to the couch,
mindful only of this moment.
From behind the study door came a discreet cough.
Jan! Let me in. It's me.
Jan!
- What is it, Vera? What's wrong? - Who are you talking to?
- Nobody. - Don't lie. I heard you.
- I'm reading out a new story. - Who to?
Her.
- The dog? - Yes. Now leave us alone.
- Jan, you're not serious? - Absolutely.
Jan, are you quite mad?
Not at all. I'm perfectly sane. Now please leave us in peace.
- May I listen too? - No.
- Please go away. - I'll be quiet.
- Go away! - He's gone mad! Lionya!
- Here I am. What is it? - He's gone mad!
Calm down. Don't get upset.
On Friday Vita disappeared. They looked for her all day.
In the evening, the neighbours told us she'd been hit by a bus.
God, how awful!
Jan...
Jan, she's dying.
Vita...
poor little thing.
- Do something! - What? -We can't do anything.
Sod the lot of you! My little dog...
My little girl... Get out! All of you! Little doggie...
I can't bear to look. Do something.
Don't just stand there! Do something!
We'll never save her. We'd better shoot her.
Wait! I'll be back in a minute.
Here.
Careful, it's loaded. Shoot it.
Go on, shoot!
I can't, Vera Nikolayevna.
Hold her.
- Marga, are you happy? - No. I'm unhappy.
Drink this, Ivan Alekseyevich.
- Maybe I should pity you. - Why? It's not that bad.
Swallow it, Ivan Alekseyevich.
Disgusting!
- Will it ever end, do you think? - Of course it will.
- The Russians are near Berlin. - I don't mean that.
Galia and I are going to America. I've been offered a job.
Is this some sort of illness? Sonya is going to America, now you...
Maybe Lionya and Vera should go to America too.
I've lost everything, anyway.
Why go on living with me? I won't get the Nobel again.
What do you think?
Try and sleep.
Marga, I can't do this. Hold this, will you.
- I have to say goodbye to him. - I told him everything, Galia.
I'm sorry. Don't be angry with me. I'll write to you.
Ivan! Don't! Please don't!
Goodness, I can't see a thing!
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
What were they talking about for so long? Never mind.
These glasses...
Jan says they make me look like the old poet Tyutchev.
- Lionya, say something. - Why are you wasting your life?
I don't understand. Just serving him?
He doesn't even notice. He doesn't need it.
You feel responsibility, pity. That's why you can't leave him.
Do you feel no pity for me?
Yes, me! I have been as faithful as a dog to you all these years!
For your sake I have endured abuse, humiliation and scandal!
Sometimes you seem to treat me the same way he treats you.
That's not true, Lionya.
I think the world of you.
You have no idea how dear you are to me.
Let's go to Paris together. We'll get married.
Vera...
Whose sock is this? Yours? Or his?
I'm completely mixed up.
What's going on?
What's wrong with you, Lionya?
Lionya! Pull yourself together! You'll scare Vera Nikolayevna.
What's the matter, Lionya? Come on, man! Get a grip!
Easy does it. Wait, I'll give you a hand.
That's better. Don't let the world get to you.
There, gently does it...
The world, and me too.
Hold onto me, Lionya. That's it.
Pull yourself together. Come on! Don't be such a girl!
I'm cold.
Even Lionya's gone. They've all gone.
It's the end of a bad dream.
You brought it on yourself.
I forgot to tell you. A letter came for you this morning.
Here, take it.
I feel as if I've recovered from a long illness.
I might even write again.
What about this:
He, and She... Both young, healthy, strong...
Shoulders, teeth, knees -
all smooth and perfect.
and then... She's in the sun. It's hot. She eats an apple.
The apple is hard. She bites-in. juice foams up.
The bubbles burst.
And then he kills her. With passion and pleasure.
There is much about love that is savage, cruel, dark.
Nobody has ever written about it properly.
- Is it necessary to kill her? - Essential.
Or she may end up in a nunnery, for all we know.
- What's this? - Money, is it?
- Lots of money. - Who could it be from?
- Is there a sender's address? - Look, there's a note. Here.
Who's it from? Does it say?
Fancy that! An old debt. I'd forgotten all about it.
- Who is it from? - It's just...
I once lent some money to a lady...
- I see. - A harmless escapade.
- I see. - No you don't.
- It's a lot of money... - We could go to Italy.
- What? Italy? - You always wanted to see Rome.
- Yes. - Let's go then.
- You mean it? -Of course! - Just the two of us?
- You and me? - You and me.
You seem to have perked up a bit.
I always thought you wanted this kind of life.
- Vera, do you love me? - Me? Love you?
I can't stand you.
We never made it to Italy.
Jan died of a heart attack on the train.
I spent the money from Jeanne on the funeral.
Galia came to the church, but didn't go to the cemetery.
I saw her and Marga only once after that.
They came to stay from America. We exchanged letters.
Lionya spent some time in a psychiatric clinic.
I used to visit him. Then he lived with me in Paris.
And then I died.
Bunin ANDREY SMIRNOV
Vera GALINA TYUNINA
Galina OLGA BUDINA
Gurov EVGENI MIRONOV
Marga ELENA MOROSOVA
Subtitles: Robert Russell LINGUAFILM