My Universities (1939) movie
Now, as I recall the past,
I have difficulty in believing that it was really like that… But the truth is beyond any
commiseration! M. Gorky In memory of the great
Russian writer Maxim Gorky MY UNIVERSITIES Part Three of the Trilogy Based on M. Gorky’s works Directed by
M. DONSKOY Cinematography by P. YERMOLOV Production Designer I. STEPANOV Music by L. SHVARTS Cast: Alexei Peshkov –
N. VALBERT Semyonov –
S. KAYUKOV Osip Shatunov –
N. DOROKHIN Nikiforych –
N. PLOTNIKOV Tatar guard –
L. SVERDLIN Guri Pletnyov –
D. SAGAL Student –
M. POVOLOTSKY Grachik –
P. SHPRINGFELD Romass –
V. MARUTA Kuzin –
A. GRUZINSKY Bearded baker –
K. ZYUBKO Pashka the Gypsy –
A. SMOLKO Woman –
V. DANCHEVA Professor Studentsky –
M. TROYANOVSKY Masha –
I. FEDOTOVA Yashka Bubenchik –
Pavlik DOZHDEV SOYUZDETFILM With a dream of studying
at the University, Alexei Peshkov
arrived in Kazan. He lived in “Marusovka”,
familiar to many a generation
of Kazan students. The way you write,
the devil take it all! Not words, but iron weights! And not a single comma! If you learn the syntax this way,
you’ll never get to the University. You won’t even finish
the gymnasia course. I find grammar very oppressive. I don’t know how to write out those beautiful Russian words. You think you can get
in the University without syntax? And you try to write verses yourself,
and want to master Schopenauer. You won’t get to Schopenauer,
it’s too early for you. What? Leaving bread
for your neighbor Guri? Poke her in the ribs! In the ribs! Hey, you, the splendor
of human spirit! Go to hell! Do you know what God is? I say Euclid’s a fool! I’ll prove God has more brains
than that Greek! Why are you butting in, you long devil!
Go away or I’ll kill you! Try to understand that man needs
pain, suffering and failures, to keep higher conscience alive in him. So don’t stop people fighting. – There you go again…
– Yes, it’s my Schopenauer. The philosopher Schopenauer. The cleverest is the one
who doesn’t show any compassion, because he knows he’ll
never receive it himself. Try to understand, Maximych,
man is a wild, horrible beast. We know him in a simplified
and tamed state. But when he gets rid of
the locks and chains of the law, only then the real
essence of man will stand out. Ah, Nikiforych!
My respects. Good day, Mister Pletnyov. Playing, eh? Yes, playing. Go on, play. Stop playing,
Mister Pletnyov. Why stand there? What are you
staring at? Never seen me, you fool? Go on, play. How he beat her! And only Don Quixote’s interference
stopped the fight for a while. But Senor Don Quixote
got it from the madam. She spit all over his mug. And you were trying to prove… I was, and I did,
that man needs pain and suffering,
for higher conscience to live in him. I proved that the cleverest is
the one who shows no compassion. Yes, because he knows that he’ll
never receive it himself. – And thus he must bear it.
– Yes, he must! Sons of humankind! Man needs
suffering and pain. Just look at it. The cleverest is the one
who shows no compassion. And I’ll never renounce it! Go on, birdie, sing… Go to hell! Well, even if man
needs to suffer, we need to eat as well. What, Maximych, you’ve had enough? Of course I have.
This is for you. You see, they got no money
today at the printing office. But we’ll find the money. Around you the beams ofjoy shine
brightly, The gifts of mind and beauty are all
in you. And if there’s one who won my heart
entirely, Oh, it’s only you, it’s only you. Ah, Guri, you’re a real artist! And if only you was a little
better-looking, I’d fix you up
with a woman. No, spare me that. Instead, would you lend us
for our breakfast, lunch and dinner five kopecks? We’ll pay you back. We’re rich, brother! Maximych, run to the tavern. Bread, sugar, tea. On the double! Oh, I find grammar
so oppressive. I don’t know how to write out
the beautiful Russian words. A poem. Living with new sensations, Filled with a new strength… Oh, Maximych! The police are in the yard.
They’re searching Odnorukov’s room. Thirty-seven devils! Look here, Maximych, run as fast
as you can to Derenkov’s bakery. When you enter
the shop, ask for… Only take care!
There might be spies around. Go by the back door. Coals! Coals! Coals! Coals! Any work here? Work enough. Something for you, too. – Are you Derenkov?
– That’s right. Why? Pyotr’s arrested. What Pyotr? A lanky fellow. Looks like a deacon. – Well?
– That’s all. Geometry. Bread.
A prison. A mousetrap. Euclid’s a fool!
A fool! I’ll prove God has more brains
that the Greek! I’ll prove it!
Euclid’s a fool! More brains!
Euclid’s a fool! Guri ran away.
Guri ran away. You, the splendor
of human spirit! A rainy, hungry
autumn drew on. The University proved
an unreachable dream… Help me out! Help me out! Been driven away
from under the boat, brother? All because of me. Where’re you from? Ah, from town. Oh, you’ve got bread. – Why are you here?
– Looking for work. We’re as many here as
there’re yellow leaves in the fall. And we all want to eat. Alright, I’ll fix you up. Let’s do it all together! Why are you shrinking like a girl?
Afraid to lose your honor? If you’re hungry,
you may as well steal. Don’t you let yourself
drift into thieves’ tricks, Maximych. That’s not your road, I can see.
You’re the soulful kind. What do you mean, the soulful kind? The ones that are never envious,
only curious to know. That’s not true.
I’m envious of many things. And more than anything else,
of those who can study. The universities again. If they told me:
You may study, but, for that, you’ll be
cudgeled every Sunday, I would most probably have agreed. Life is not kind to you, but they’ll deliver you to
a cemetery right in time. Now we got both food and drink! Let’s go to the tavern,
tea for everybody, rolls and a bottle. We can spend only the boot tops
on drink, as for the bottoms,
cut them off and give to the student. He wears rags instead of shoes.
He’ll hit the bucket. Give the bottoms to the student
so that he didn’t hit the bucket. That’s something! Look, isn’t Grachik great! I like an educated man
more than a beautiful gal. What’s that? Somebody must have run onto a rock. Men, they’re giving work! They’re giving work, men! A barge is sinking. A barge loaded with wares.
Must save it. Men! – Go and save it.
– Let it sink. You say it’s sinking? Sinking. Sinking bad! Will it sink soon? Soon! Very soon! Come on, let’s go! Let’s go. You fool. Come on! Come on! Come on! Hey, Maximych, wait. Wait! Come on, Maximych! Come on! Hey, come on! Maximych,
there’re universities for you. Come on! Come on!
More! Maximych. – Ah, hi!
– Hi. What have they been doing to you
yesterday? I had such joy last night. Which I’d never experienced before. I would like to live all my life
like this. People have been famishing for labor. A man can do anything! The human force has
overpowered nature. People felt like human beings.
Oh, how they worked! Working for him, for the boss? No, for themselves, for their souls. And how much did your soul get? My soul?
40 kopecks. And what have you done
with those money? Here, I bought a Schopenauer.
The philosopher. You fool.
Worse than a fool. Idiot! This was the last work you had.
There’ll be no more work until spring. And I’m going
for the warmer parts. I need to find my own path. There’ll be enough to do. Want to come with me? No.
Our paths part. Well, if they part,
let them part. Give me five. Go on, look for work. Do you have any work? Go away, no work.
What work can be there in winter? – Are you a janitor?
– Go away, it’s none of your business. You can catch cold without your pants. What else will you say? You’ll catch cold and die. – What else?
– Nothing else. It’s quite enough! – Why do you say that?
– No special reason. Can I see the boss,
Vasily Semyonov? That’s me.
There’s a janitor for you! Get lost! How about three rubles a month? All right. You got a passport? No.
Give it to the assistant. Go over there. What’s the matter with you, eh? Hey, look, a new one! Why are you pestering the man,
you devils? – And you don’t be afraid.
– I’m not afraid. – Who are you?
– A human being. And what’s your name? Alexei Maximovich Peshkov. Hey, Maximych! So you’ve found your place. And again he began to live
a strange, complicated life. My dear beasts are hungry.
My dear beasts want a bun. Here, here, here. There, little rascals. Living in the dark.
Yet they… Oh, my darlings,
my little hermits! Here, here! Why is he walking
around without pants? He’s walking out his hangover. He isn’t crazy, is he? Wait, he’ll show you his brains.
You won’t find another like him. Only five years ago
he was a baker too. Then he took up with his boss’s
wife, an old hag. He talked her into killing her
drunkard of a husband with arsenic, and took the business into his hands. Oh, that’s what Semyonov is like! It’s amazing the way you speak of him. What’s so amazing? As though you’re boasting. There’s a lot to boast of. Just think, he was
a common workman, and now the policeman himself
doffs his cap to him. The mars not so
simple, my dear. Sure, he’s not simple,
if he poisoned his master. There’re no witnesses to that. Sometimes people slander
a man out of envy. They don’t like it when
our brothers get lucky. What kind of a brother is he to you? I see you’ve got a long tongue. No longer than yours. Tut, you little devil! Whom are you kicking,
you deaf devil? What? Yegor is beating Nikandr. He’s beating him hard!
He’ll beat him to deaf. It makes no difference to him –
to maim a man or to kill him. So it’s your brother’s
beating a man to death? You can go and help him. Yegor will bash your mug, too. What are you thundering about? You thunderer. – How’s he working?
– He’s working alright. Tomorrow morning send him to
the University to sell rolls. And then put him to knead the dough
for a week without any relieve. Thunderer. Great! From now on you’ll be called
Thunderer! Don’t you be afraid,
I’ll stand up for you. Up your toe, up! Left wheel, forward march! One, two, three!
Onward! One, two, three!
Left! Left! Maximych!
My dear Lomonosov! Where have you disappeared? My dear colleague, this is
a native talent who, in order
to get into the University, is ready to be
cudgeled every Sunday. Stop making a circus of it. Would you like
to see Guri Pletnyov? Where’s he? He comes to Derenkov’s every day. Maximych, a sensible man
seeks not what is pleasant, but what relieves him
of suffering. Understand? Thank you. At Derenkov’s So that’s what you’re like! What are you frightened at? Am I such a dreadful sight? I only began to walk
in the last five days. Before that, I was
bedridden for three months. I’ve heard a lot about you. So I wanted to see
what you were like. Why don’t you say something? Oh, you must be shy. Come on, say something! Where’s Guri? Guri kept asking about you.
Where do you live? I found work
at the baker Semyonov’s. Oh, it’s interesting.
There’re people to work among. And we must do it, because
the people’s life is very hard and they need to be enlightened. Just a minute. They say you’re writing verses. – Yes, I’m scribbling.
– About what? What are your verses about? About the spring
snow melting not to flow down from
dirty streets into basements. – A man…
– Here, take it. It’s a good thing to start with.
Read it. Come more often to us. On Saturdays you’ll
find it interesting here. And you’ll see Guri Pletnyov. O Man, how lofty is your calling – Your soul has everything around
which the universe is rolling, In it you’ll find both harmony and
answer… You don’t say! What life has given me’s just want. And what from this life should I want? It’s so true, good Lord! Sometimes, brothers,
I feel so sorry for my poor soul! It’s just perishing! What is har… Harmony? He’s collecting different words. Well, you keep saying:
Brothers, let’s keep together. What can we expect from life?
Semyonov is cruel. If we acted together,
even Semyonov would get kinder. You’re wagging your tongue alright,
as though you know everything. We live like recruits, and all this
is hopeless and means nothing. And what are you driving at? What I’m driving at is
that the nettle has its place, and the poppies have their own. Listen to this. O Man, how lofty is your calling! Your soul has everything around
which the universe is rolling. What an idea!
Isn’t he smart! You can’t burn the book. – Why not?
– You can’t. You can’t! Give it here. Here. My heart even skipped a beat.
I thought he’d fight you. Well, brace up now, Thunderer.
He’ll start subduing you. – You bungler! Didrt you see him?
– It seems I didn’t. You were told to keep an eye on him! – So I didn’t keep a good eye.
– So you didn’t keep a good eye. You’re out of place here, lad.
We don’t want any scandal. You’ll be irritating the boss,
and he’ll be taking out on us. Go get the sack, Thunderer. There’ll be no life
for you here, anyway. Leave. Why leave?
Punch his mug. If he fights back, I’ll stand by you. So what? I’ll take a n iron weight,
about three pounds, or a log. Yashka is right again,
though he’s just a child. Don’t scare the man just for nothing. He’s telling you good things,
and you force him to leave. Mister Thunderer, come here. Move the flour from
the yard to the hall, Thunderer. Shut the door,
it’s too drafty. What? It’s drafty for you?! It’s all because of you,
the devils take you! There’s about 150 of them here. Even
a third of it won’t fit in the hall. If it won’t,
I’ll make you carry them back. Never mind, you’re strong. I won’t let you mock me. I won’t.
I want a dismissal. Go on, carry them. Where can you go in wintertime?
You’ll die of starvation. – I want a dismissal.
– What about a punch in your mug? What are you doing? Wait! Hitting your master!
What are you doing… What?
I’m your master! Let go! What’s the matter? Hitting your master… Who are you? I’m going to call the police. You, damned puppy! Way to go. Thunderer. I saw you giving it to him. Look, I won’t tell
anybody about it. – You don’t tell, either.
– I don’t mean to. After all, he’s the boss, right? We have to obey someone,
or we all will be fighting. We must show some respect. Don’t you deserve some respect? What are we? Human beings.
Men, understand? What kind of man are you
if you can’t stand up for yourself? For our boss, brother,
we need teeth and claws. We need them to stay alive. Who can understand me?
No one can. If you allow to beat you,
no one shall understand you. I think peas are not
sown in the swamp. But am I right? Yes, you’re right, only the nettle has its place,
and the poppies their own. The point is that we’re no nettle
and he’s no poppies. The truth is
that we’re ignobly used to living by someone else’s strength. And this habit has permeated
all people’s actions and relations. It has become our second nature, it has not only taken
disgusting forms, but it’s undermining at the root
the deep meaning of work, its poetry. That poetry can be brought
about only by the tiller of the soil in his direct
intercourse with nature. And the bloodsucker, will he let
you bring about that poetry? The man will come
through suffering and pain. Well. Man doesn’t need
suffering and pain in order to feel
his dignity. Listen. To have the right to criticize,
you must believe in some truth. What truth do you believe in? My beliefs have been tanned into my skin. Semyonov makes everything
very clear to me. Better than Schopenauer. The Morozov strike
is an organized… They’re babbling so much
about the love for the people. This struggle impedes
the development of culture. What culture are you worried about? The culture of
a small group of people? I’ve heard all the dispute. Why are you so glum? My grandmother died not long ago. Were you very fond of her? As indomitably greedy
as the love for a woman! Yes. How long have you been working
at Semyonov’s? Not very long. It’s interesting.
Write about life at the bakery. I’ll try to get it published
in the Liberal Gazette. Maximych, let’s go. – Let’s be friends.
– All right. I’ll lie down beside you, all right? All right. Writing? – Yes, writing.
– What about? Writing about life.
The way we live. What are you talking about?
We live worse than a dog. Whom are you writing for? For the Liberal Gazette. Wait, what word is that? – Liberal?
– Yes. Looking for words again? What are you looking for them for? Why do you want to know? Interesting. A man
chasing strange words. What for? It got to you after all.
It did. It got to you. There’s a secret verse. The one who knows it
can do anything. This verse is for
the happiness of all people. Only no one is supposed to know
all of it for the time being. All words have been distributed
among different people, they’re scattered around
the earth until the right time. And homeless people wander over
the earth, picking up the secret words. When they have gathered them,
everything will get clear and happiness will come to man. Why? You know why. I don’t, honest. Stop pretending. Look, Osip, you’re saying
this verse is for universal happiness? Then the word “liberal”
is no good for this. – Who’s there?
– Don’t yell. Burning the midnight oil? And how late are you going
to sleep tomorrow? It’s you, Psalter man, that
introduced this midnight habit. You! Watch out, they’re going to suck up
some sense out of your books an you’ll be the first
whose ribs they smash. Come here. Come, I say! Sit down. I wish to talk with you. – Drink.
– I don’t drink. Then say something. – Nikita must be taken to a hospital.
– Why? – He’s coughing blood.
– What do you care? I feel sorry for him.
Isn’t he human? Hide your sorry under the stove,
and your soul will go visiting. So I’ll take Nikita to the hospital,
all right? You may take him even to
the slaughterhouse, for all I care. – At your expense.
– You can’t. It has never been so. Everyone would want
to lie down in a hospital then. Listen. Tell me, why were you
pulling my ear the other day? I got angry. Getting angry – this I understand.
I don’t mean that. You could hit me on the ear
or give me a punch, whatever. But why did you pull it
as if I were a little boy? I don’t like beating people. You’re a wild guy. Everything’s wrong about you.
Everything’s wrong in your head. – Tell me, am I a bad man?
– And what do you think? Me? No. I’m a good man.
I’m a smart man. Now, you’re literate and garrulous,
you can talk about this and that, about the stars, about Frenchmen,
about the gentry, about the truth. But let us argue. – About what?
– To see that I’m cleverer than you. Just think, I’m illiterate, don’t
know any letters, just the numbers. But I got a big business.
Forty-three men working for me. You’re literate,
but you’re working for me. If I like, I’ll hire a real student
and throw you out. If I like, I’ll throw everybody out. – I don’t see what’s so clever about it.
– You’re lying. You can’t feed even one man,
and I’m feeding forty. That’s the cleverness for you,
and the truth. It’s not you who feed them, but they
feed you – this is the truth. You’re just croaking. The truth! The truth… You were reading about
the universe the other day. The universe is organized like this:
I’m the boss and I’m to rule, and you must work, and the police must
keep up the order. If I wish, you’ll be kneading eight or nine sacks of flour. And if we wish,
we won’t knead it. You’re just contradicting against me. This talk about the masters
is very dangerous. All this foolishness in you
is because you’re young. Someone else in my place
would call a policeman now, slip him a ruble,
and he would arrest you. – So call him.
– Why? I’ve got plenty time for that. I’ll call him when I need it. By the way, Nikiforych
was asking me about you. – What did he ask?
– About your character, your tongue. I said you got bad character
and a long tongue. Look, I want
to make you my assistant. – No, I don’t want to.
– Why not? – It doesn’t suit me.
– Why not? – Doesrt agree with my soul.
– Talking about soul again. I wish they showed it to me at least
once, to feel it with my fingers. You think Artyom has a soul? And Osip? And Kuzin? Soul… What’s this book about? It’s history, about the Russian people. History. And who would know my history? And you’ve got none of it yet.
And will never have. History… I got to work. You talk too much. It’s all fiddlesticks,
and harmful for you. You must do your best for me
to recognize you. History… You’ve already recognized me. I did? Right, I did. But I still have to open the way
for you, but I may not do it. Oh you, foolish man. Your happiness is just here
up for grabs, and you… Oh, damn you! Damn you, crippled fool! All right,
I did recognize you. And we had a talk about the man
and the soul. And yet, tomorrow
you’ll feed my pigs. History! He’s lying. Who?
The boss? Yes, him. I do have a soul. And Artyom has. And Pashka has it, too. Wait, wait. What’s this for? Keep mum. Your strength will be good for
other things. You must save it. Strength is given to a man once
in a lifetime. Bite them, bite them, rascals! Bite them, rascals! I’ll poison them. He’s torturing us.
I’ll poison them. What do you need it for? To make our life easier.
Give him a blow. No, it’s no good.
It’s not the way to do it. – No good.
– No good! You won’t be able to endure it.
He will break you. And whom does Thunderer belong to? To the boss. You’re lying, you swine! Yegor. Three fists and no head. Shut up! Who is it, your mother or sister? – Our master.
– Well. Come on, go! You swine! Are you student Pletnyov’s pupil? Oh, Mister Pletnyov
may get in a big trouble. Why? Come around to my box
for a cup of tea. I’ll tell you. – Have you seen Pletnyov lately?
– Not lately. Not good-looking, but nice. – Who’s nice?
– Mr. Pletnyov. In the first place, he’s not ‘mister’. He’ll be ‘mister’ when he’s got his
learning, now he’s just a student. In the second place, what do you
mean – ‘nice’? He’s jolly and young. A clown in a showbooth is jolly too. – Clowns are paid to be jolly.
– Shut up! Even a dog starts out as a pup. Clowns – they’re just monkeys. Shut up, I said, by the way.
Do you hear? I hear you. This Pletnyov
is a good young man, yet he’s trying to tear
the invisible thread. What? An invisible thread.
You understand? No. Well, if you take His Majesty,
the Emperor, as a spider. – Oh! What are you saying?
– Hold your tongue, you fool! It’s out that way for clearness,
not for aspersion, you cow! Clear away the samovar! An invisible thread, like a cobweb, comes from the heart
of His Imperial Majesty, Tsar Alexander the Third
and etc. And etc. And it comes on down through His Majesty’s ministers, through His Excellency,
the governor, and down through all the ranks,
right down to me, and even the last soldier. And it reaches out to everything,
that thread. By its invisible might the tsar’s realm
is preserved through the centuries. Only the politicians,
the Yids and some Russians, bribed by that
sly English queen, do their best to tear the thread
wherever they can. Pretending as if they’re
for the people. Understand? Well, then! Why do you think I tell you this? You’re an honest and clever guy. There’s all these students
hanging around Derenkov’s bakery. Sit there all night,
singing songs. If it was one, that’s simple. But when they’re so many, eh? Is that fit work for you,
in the bakery? You could make the same money,
or more, doing a different sort of work
for the tsar’s empire. – Look, you got to go.
– Hand over those pants! The tsar to the people is like God. God! She’s sorry for those young men.
Cries all day. Well, I’m sorry too. Only, what can a student do
against the power of the Emperor? You cow! The old devil! Ugh! Don’t you believe him,
not a single word he says! He’s trying to catch you up.
It’s all lies. He knows all about everybody.
That’s what he lives by. Man-hunting. Who’s he tracking now? Someone in the lodging house
in Ravnoryadskaya. You know the name? A big man, with a beard. With a beard? That’s all I can
tell you about myself. The ten years of exile
could not break my willpower. Our work in the village
will not be easy. But I’d rather do that than
engage in futile arguments. The shop in Krasnovidovo,
where we are to work, can be opened
very soon. I think we’ll be able to move
our printing office there, too. – I was at the policeman Nikiforych’s.
– Well? And what? It’s not safe for you
to stay in the city. He knows where you live.
He knows everything about you. I knew it.
But I’m as pure as a dove. They can find no fault with me. Besides,
we’re leaving very soon. Yes, we’re leaving soon. Stay away from the convicts! Stay away from the convicts! Convicts, go on! Convicts, go on! Forward, convicts! Like pilgrims on the high road They went thru my heart from birth With a sorrowful, doubtful load, Those thousands of children of
the earth. Not many retained in the heart’s Memory with sweet sadness For helping me enance My inner fire and boldness. What, my darlings, it hurts, eh? What, my dears? My hermits, my rascals. My recluses. They poisoned my darlings. – But who?
– I know. Kozin reported it to me. – Shall I thrash him?
– Wait. What bastards! – We’d better slaughter them.
– Why? Let them live as long as they can. If we kill them, we can sell them to
the butcher, but not the dead ones. He won’t take them. I’ll tell him you got angry with them
and ordered to slaughter them. I’ll tell him they were healthy. Go ahead, kill them. Was it you who ordered
to poison the pigs? Are they dead? You going to tell the boss? What’s going to happen now?
Oh, holy Mother! The boss will go berserk.
He’ll break Yashka’s neck. – What Yashka has to do with it?
– That’s the way it is. In an artel, the little ones
always answer for the big ones. There’ll be so much work now. He’ll heap it on us
like on convicts. – And you refuse to do it.
– You can’t refuse bread. Werert you boasting that you’ve built Semyonov’s
business with your hands? If we act all together, he wouldn’t deny himself a profit,
he’s too greedy. When will you take me to the hospital?
I can’t bear it anymore. Maximych. Like you told us about
those at the Morozov factory? The devil take it! And why not, really? Don’t worry, if anything,
I’ll stand up for you. Guys! Osip, Artysha. For how long are we going
to bear it, my dear brothers? So you wrote to the newspaper? Saying that I got rotten
bins and swarms of cockroaches? That my workers have
syphilis and there’s dirt all over. The sanitary police were here. I gave them 25 rubles for all. But you’ll have everything as before.
All the cockroaches are in place. And all that may
turn against you. All our neighborhood police
are wearing my galoshes. All the authorities are living
on my tips. And what can you do? But you, cockroach,
are challenging a dog. The cockroaches are the same,
but the people are different. People. Your people are going
to knead 9 sacks. Ten sacks. You sleeping?
Get up! Get up, bastard! Well? See? The cockroaches are the same,
and the people are the same. You will knead 10 sacks. Get up! It’s Yashka! Yashka poisoned the pigs! Enough! Who said that? – Me.
– You? Wait, Vasily Semyonov. Don’t fight. Enough!
We don’t want! We’ve made you rich! You’ve eaten up all my strength. What will you boast of before the Lord?
Oh, father… We don’t agree to do even 7 sacks! It’s us who’ve made you rich! Us! You see? Right! That’s what happens
when we act together, collectively! We’ll show him!
I feel so free! Yakov Zakharovich moved his antennae! A song! Play! Play! I’ll drink to the man, so that he knew
his strength, dignity and pride. To friendship
and the strength of a workingman. To friendship, love and our meeting. Oh, brothers,
I love you, the devil take it! Good Lord, brothers, sometimes
it feels like your soul is playing, like the Mordovian gusli. Yesterday we all together
stood up against Semyonov. But what can we
do today, now? Collectively, it’s even easier
to beat your father. Now I see myself as a noble man,
and that’s it. And I know how to live. You said it right, Maximych,
that we’re all won’thy men. Let’s drink, brothers,
to won’thy men! And you listen and pick up words,
for them to make up the verse. – How do I know if they make it up?
– You’ll know. And what if they make up
another verse? There’s no other verse. There’s only one verse
for the happiness of all people. And to cap it,
tell us the word. We need that word very much. You know the direct, the right word. Tell us where to go and how. To love. To such love
that would fill up the heart. To Semyonov? We don’t have to love Semyonovs. And they don’t
love us either. Our strength is in friendship. To out friendship and love. Oh, I’d love to sing now.
Shall we? Oh, we’ll sing, we’ll make merry! When our hour comes, we’ll go to
a cemetery! The chair. – Don’t toady.
– Yes, sir! Well, good day. Drinking vodka? Have a drink with us,
Vasily Semyonovich. To our health. Don’t be angry with us,
Vasily Semyonovich. – Alright, stop fussing.
– We’re people, too. People.
You’re convicts, not people. Alright, let’s drink. The devil must have brought him here. We all here seem to be
of one town, of one land. Right, of one land. But of different color! Right. But why should a dog
have a wolf’s habits? Such dog won’t make a good guard. Attention! Come on, soldier,
bring another dozen beers. A dozen beers! Oh God, I’ve drunk a lake
of vodka with strangers, but I don’t remember when
I drank with my own last. Come on, start a song! Dance! Orthodox people! The students are rioting in the square! Orthodox people! They’re giving lectures
with a gendarme present… Mister Policeman,
you have no right to mock us! I’ll be complaining to the governor! It was the students’ rebellion against the police regime
in the University. Alexei could not grasp
its aim or causes… He had neither desire nor any words to defend them. He left sick and staggering, carrying in his heart
an unconquerable anguish. Guri Aleksandrovich has been arrested. The young man is done for. And there appeared an anxious
feeling of tiredness and boredom, an acute dissatisfaction
with himself and people around. – What are you doing?
– Writing. – Verses?
– No. What, then? My death note. And I can’t write it. Oh, how witty! I died because
no one needs me. If I add
‘not fits me’, there’ll be a verse. Silly and ridiculous. – Listen.
– What do you want? Bring me
the anatomical atlas. All right, I will. Madame, you must undoubtedly
know of some remedy for toothache. Yet my toothache is in my heart. It’s a nasty ache, it’s helped very well
by a bullet with the tooth powder that was discovered
by Berthold Schwarz. Heinrich Heine. He was a clever monk,
that Berthold Schwarz. – Who was clever?
– Berthold Schwarz. There you are. But what do you want it for? I want to look up where the mars
heart is located in the chest. All scratches, all hurts
are directed to it. A cobweb. Like Nikiforych says. You know,
Guri Pletnyov is arrested. I got nobody left. My heart is like
a cold, deep pit. Do you understand? A cobweb. Ugh, you’re so boring. Of course, boring,
if I’m almost dead. Boring. Let me write something funny for them. It was December.
A cold night descended on the city. Throw out again? What is it here?
They threw it out? Threw out? Know that officer’s mistress? Throws him out every night.
He freezes. – I guess he’ll freeze.
– I guess he’ll freeze. If I throw him back, will it hurt? – Is there snow?
– Snow? Is there any snow behind the fence? If any snow behind the fence –
don’t know. Guess there is. Take him in your bosom. He’ll be saved and you’ll feel
warm and more cheerful. Yes, yes, right. Right, warm and cheerful. – Well, farewell, brother.
– Farewell, brother. Oh you, cat’s kitten,
you were freezing bad? Throw you back – you’ll hurt. Why you walking at night? Cats get cold. The man pitied you. It’s warm now.
Very warm, eh? What is it?
Who shot you? A town on the Kama… On the Kama? But we don’t know where… Shot himself. Pitying the cat,
not pitying himself. Oh, stupid head. I know you. I know. You’re the Tatar guard. The Tatar, yes, the guard. I’m sorry, brother. It’s alright, don’t talk.
It’s alright, alright. – Who is that?
– Some drunk devil. You drunk fool yourself! He was very sober,
me saw! Take him, take him. Alexei Maximovich Peshkov. Masha! Masha! Listen. Yesterday at 8 in the evening,
on the bank of the Kazanka river, a Nizhny Novgorod workman,
Alexei Maximovich Peshkov, shot at his side from a gun
in order to take his life. The wound was found dangerous. A note was found on Peshkov,
saying the following: Please blame my death
on the poet Heine who invented
a toothache of the heart. Enclosed herewith is my document
issued for this purpose. I’m asking to dissect my body and examine it to see what devil
has inabited me lately. From the enclosed document
it’s clear that I’m Alexei Peshkov, and from this note, I hope,
nothing is clear. If you started to do something,
you must finish it. You’ve roused everybody. If nothing comes out of it, tell people, explain it to them. Quiet!
Professor Studentsky! Here he is. Remove the bandage. What we’re seeing here
is an absolutely different picture. The psyche function wishes
more than what’s in its power, so to speak, unreachable dreams. Is this a lecture on sociology,
Professor? And here’s the result.
In 3 days he is supposed to die. You’re lying! I shall not die.
I shall not die! Cover him. They just don’t care about us. If you want to live,
then live and bear it, brother. It’s nothing. But how they made up with Semyonov. With Semyonov! How they ran in the street!
How they ran! There he is. Hi, Maximych! How are you? This lemon is just great! Take it with tea. – You got so thin.
– No, not very much. Sure, illness is no treat.
Well, never mind. We’ll make you well.
Here, the pretzels. Some sugar, of course. Do they let you smoke? Brothers! I’m so happy.
I’m so happy! No smoking?
Well, to hell with them. I brought you both
tobacco and candies. When you want to smoke,
suck a candy. You’ll feel better.
Though not as good. Thanks, brothers. Thank you! Thank you, brothers. When will they let you out? Why do you ask?
He can go even now. As soon as you’re out,
come to us. We’ll find some
easy work for you. – Are you bored lying down here?
– Of course he is. Oh, brothers!
The devil take you! Brothers! Brothers! Oh, you!
How could you? You struck us quite a blow. Remember what you said?
The truth, you said, brothers. You said we had to fight. To love life,
to hate Semyonovs. Oh, you… Brothers, my dears!
My own brothers! That’s how it will be, brothers. I’ll get well
to live a long, stubborn life. You pick up words. All right. He’s picking them. Remember me? The guard, the Tatar. Remember? Hello. Illness gone? I don’t understand. I don’t understand,
what’s this case history? Case history.
Alexei Peshkov. And his history is like this. Alexei Maximovich Peshkov,
workman, unmarried, very tall, hollow voice,
no stammer, on the left side of the chest
a mark from a firearm wound. Well-read,
very good at writing. Has covered almost all Russia,
mostly on foot. Subject to arrest
as a dangerous person, according to
Article 250 of the Code of Punishment, pertaining to forming
associations with the aim of rebellion
against the supreme authority. Is it clear? He’s wandering. – Where’re you going, fellows?
– To town. – Is it hunger in the village?
– Yes, hunger. Great hunger. Good day.
Where are you heading? To town.
We’re starving. Yes, starving. What?
Someone beat you? Go away!
Go away! Don’t get up. You’re going
to give birth. And who are you? I guess I’m a man. Sure you’re a man. How do you know about our business? I studied.
A student. Ever heard of them? Yell, Orlov man!
Yell, man! Yell! Yell! Make yourself heard, brother, or your neighbors will be
quick to break your neck. Careful there! Oh, how good!
Good. I feel like
walking to the ends of the earth. And my son would grow, and grow, and grow in the open country, by his mother’s breast, my dear little one. Make noise, Orlov man! Yell, man!
Yell! Yell, the new citizen
of the Russian land! I’m going to burn and light up as brightly and widely
as possible the darkness of life. M. Gorky End of the Trilogy