All language subtitles for Vanya on 42nd Street (1994).en

Oh! Look at this guy.

- Andrushki.
- Oh!

- How are you?
- Oh, there's Wal.

- Hi, Wal.
- Weren't we going to rehearse at 5:00?

I think it was 5:15.

Is, uh -

Mmm. What is this?

- It's a knish.
- Mmm.

There he is. Wally!

- Hi. Hi. Great to see you.
- Hello.

Andr�, this is Mrs. Chao.

- Uh, we met last summer in Berlin.
- How do you do?

Do you mind if she comes
to our rehearsal today?

Oh, I'd be delighted.
I love to have people visit.

In fact, you've come on a great day because
we're gonna be running through the entire play.

That's wonderful.
This is my friend Flip Innunu.

You know, Mrs. Chao
was explaining to me...

her grandfather
actually translated Chekhov into Bengali.

That was a long time ago.

My God!

You know, I've never seen Uncle Vanya.

Really? Well, it's certainly, uh -

- What part does Andr� play?
- Oh, uh, he's the director.

- Positive.

Hi, Phoebe. Nice to see you.

I want you to meet my cousin's niece,
Tucker, from Toledo.

- Oh, how nice to have you.
- What an amazing place! When was it built?

Well, I think around the turn of
the century. It's been abandoned for years.

We're just squatting here really.

And we can't use the stage
'cause the ropes, obviously...

have been eaten by, uh, rats.

- I've lost it.

Larry, you've been losing it for 25 years,
for as long as I've known you.

- Hi, Jer.

Hi, there.

Hey, Andr�. How you doin'?

I like these, uh, squirrels.

And the faces are actually from
Shakespeare's plays, or that's what they say.

God, I am just exhausted today.
I, uh, didn't get any sleep at all last night.

You know,
the Ziegfeld Follies were done here.

There used to be, uh,
dressing rooms here...

that could accommodate 500 actors.

Now, it's a little dangerous because
it's been raining through the ceiling...

and those nets are there
to catch the plaster that's coming down.

- Watch your step, Phoebe.
- I'm all right. But you look tired.

Yeah, well, I haven't had time to catch my breath.
You see, I'm doing these two other plays.

They keep calling me for extra rehearsals.

I was up at 6:00 this morning
learning lines for the rewrites...

on the play I'm doing
over at the Hearts and Minds Caf�.

- I've never heard of that theater.
- No reason you should've.

Thanks, Liz.

- So, what I'm doing in the first act is okay?
- Well, how does it feel?

Just very uncomfortable.

Well, that's the whole point.

Okay.

- Did you go swimming today?
- I'm gonna go tonight.

- If I don't swim, I don't move.
- Here, come on with me.

- Like the body just -
- I'm gonna get a cup of coffee.

- Under water, my hair turns green.
- my own mother?

- Your mother.
- My mother, she was so difficult...

and she was literally driving me so nuts.

It's all crumbling,
but it's all so beautiful.

Are you telling me Wally's going to strip?

- No. No, I just mean -
- He could, you know.

- He could do anything.

Do what you've been doing.
You know, just get it -

- Drink?
- No. No, thank you. I don't want it.

- A little vodka?

Not today, no. I can't drink it every day.
It's not good for me.

- How long have we known each other?

- How long?
- Mm-hmm.

Let me think.

Eleven years.

How much have I changed?

- How much?
- Yeah.

Very much, I think.

Well, then you were young,
now you're old.

- Mmm.
- I think your looks have faded.

- And you're drinking now.
- Ten years' time, I've become a different man.

Oh, that's true.

Why?

Why? Overwork, simply.

On my feet all day, every day.

Every night I go to sleep
in fear I'll be called out on a call.

In the years you've known me, I have not had
one single free day. Do you know that?

And how can I help but to become old,
you tell me, living such a life?

- Not dead yet.
- Ha!

Some enthusiasms, some thoughts...

but quite subdued.

Dull, somehow.

There's nothing I want...

no one that I love...

nothing I need.

Well, I love you, of course.

- Mmm.

Third week of Lent,
I was called to Malitskoye - spotted fever.

There were rows of huts, people in the huts,
side by side on the floor, lying in filth.

Cattle living in the buildings with the sick,
young pigs in there in the same room.

- Ugh.
- All day, working, not a bite to eat.

I come home, thank God,
to lie down, to rest...

and they send in a switchman
hit by the train, and -

And I get him on the table,
I'm going to start operating...

and he dies...

under the chloroform.

The moment I least required it...

my conscience chose to inform me
that I'd murdered him.

I sat down and closed my eyes
and thought...

100 years from now...

those who come after us...

for whom our lives are showing the way -

will they think kindly of us?

Will they remember us with a kind word?

And, Nanny, I wish to God I could think so.

The people won't remember...

but God will.

Thank you. That was nicely said.

Yes, oh, yes.

- Sleep well?
- Yes, very.

I'll tell you...

since the Herr and Frau Professor
have come to visit...

my life's gone completely off the track.

I'm sleeping days, I'm up nights...

I'm served all sorts
of "je ne sais quoi" to eat...

drinking wines.

Used to be,
all day, each moment ordered -

work, this.

Well, Sonya's still working, of course,
but what am I doing?

- Modern ways.
- Ah!

- Absolutely right!

Yes, the professor sleeps till noon.

I keep the samovar boiling,
waiting for him to get up.

We used to have dinner at noon,
like people everywhere, hmm?

Now it's after 6:00.

He writes and reads all night.

2:00 in the morning, there's a ring.

What is it?

Excuse me. He wants his tea.

Wake up the house, put on the samovar.

Modern ways.

- How much longer are they here?
- Ah. A hundred years.

- He wants to move here.
- No!

Magnificent. Beautiful views.

- What a prospect.
- Beautiful indeed, Your Excellency.

And tomorrow I'll show you the plantation, Papa.
Would you like that?

Uh, ladies and gentlemen,
the tea is served.

Oh, would you please ask them
to send it to my study?

There's some things I have to do.

I know you'll like the plantation, Papa.

It's hot, sweltering.

Our great scholar dresses for December.

He's quite a careful man.

Mmm. I am happy today.

Birds singing, sun shining.

You know, whatever
I find myself doing today -

just now, walking in the garden,
or just standing here, looking at this table -

I feel happy.

God bless you.

- And her eyes, uh -
- Vanya.

- Yes.
- Tell us something.

- What should I tell you?
- Something new.

Something new.

What's new? Nothing's new.
Everything's old.

Nothing's changed.

I'm the same.

Probably a little bit worse
because I've grown lazy...

complain all day.

What's new?

Hmm? My old crow, my old mother's still
prating on about her dear rights of women...

one eye on the grave...

the other one looking in her book
for the secret of life.

What about the professor?

The professor, uh, goes on as before.

All day and half of the night,
he sits at his desk and he writes.

What is he working on?

Why doesn't he turn
to some magnificent subject...

like his autobiography?

Now, there's a book -

a worked-out academic...

gout, rheumatism, migraine...

the liver inflamed with jealousy and envy...

lives on the estate of his first wife.

From choice?

No, because he's too cheap
to live in the town.

And the man prates constantly
about his misfortunes.

What are they? He has none.

The son of a poor deacon.

He's a scholarship student at the seminary.

Gets a degree, gets a teaching chair.

Now he's "Your Excellency," and he marries
the daughter of a senator, and so on.

But I say, forget that...

because this man
is so exceedingly fortunate...

as to write and lecture for 25 years...

upon a subject
of which he knows less than nothing.

Twenty-five years,
this wise man tells us about art.

Twenty-five years,
he reads the works of others...

he prattles about realism and naturalism...

specious nonsense
which the clever have long known...

and the stupid really don't care about.

Not a living soul
knows who he is or cares...

nor is he missed from a position
which he held for 25 years.

Isn't that something?

For 25 years, this man kept
some more worthy man out of a job.

Yet look at him.

He goes around as if he were saying...

"Yes, I'm here among you."

Well, you know, I believe you're jealous.

Yes, I'm jealous.

What a Don Juan with women.

What a success with women is this man.

His first wife?

My sister, a transcendent beauty
pure as the blue sky.

Generous, noble.

She had more admirers
than this man had students.

And yet she loved him, God knows why,
the way only the pure angels love.

My mother, his mother-in-law...

she dotes on him to this day.

He inspires in her reverent awe.

And his second wife,
this beauty whom we just saw...

perceptive woman...

she married him,
he was already old.

She gave up to him her life,
her beauty, her luster.

For what?
Why? I'm asking you.

And she stays faithful to him?

Regrettably, yes.

- Regrettably?
- Yes, and I'll tell you why.

Because a fidelity like that is false.

From start to close,
it's composed of rhetoric.

To cheat on an old man who revolts you,
oh, that would be immoral.

But to willfully squander your youth
and stifle yourself in unhappiness...

well, now, that's something
we can really commend.

Well, now, Vanya,
you shouldn't say things like that.

I mean, someone who would betray
their husband or wife...

well, they just might next betray
the country or something, you know.

Oh, please, you're killing me.

Now, Vanya, please allow me.

You know, my wife, she ran away from me
the day after we were married.

I think she just didn't like me.

But do I then forget my duty? No.

To this day, I honor and revere her...

and to this day,
I am absolutely faithful to her.

I - I do everything I can for her.

That is, I give her what I have...

so that she could raise the children...

which she had
with the man that she loved.

Oh, have I given up happiness?
Yes, but I've kept my pride.

And what of her?

There she is, now no longer young.

Her beauty, as it must, has faded.

Her lover died.

What does she have now, hmm?

Nanny?

You go see to the chickens,
and I'll tend to the tea.

Yes.

You know, I came to see your husband.

You wrote he was deathly ill
with rheumatism complications...

and it seems
he's in the perfect pink of health.

- Ah, last night he was ill.
- Mm-hmm.

He complained of his legs.

Um, today, though, you're right.
He does seem fine.

Yes, he seems fine...

and I flat-out galloped 45 miles.

Never mind. It isn't the first time.

All right, um, I'll stay here tonight then,
if you don't mind.

At least I'll get some sleep.

Lovely. It's so rare
you spend the night here with us.

I - I don't suspect you've eaten,
have you?

No. Many thanks, and thank you kindly.
No, I haven't. No.

Well, then you'll get your rest
and your supper.

These days we're not dining until 6:00.

Cold tea.

Yes, the temperature in the samovar
markedly decreased.

No matter, Ivan Ivanich.
We'll drink it cold.

Oh, no, no. It's not Ivan Ivanich,
it's Ilya Ilych, ma'am.

Uh, Ilya Ilych.

Or you might want to call me Waffles,
as some do...

on account of the pockmarks on my face.

- Waffles.
- I know Your Excellency - your husband.

He knows me very well. We're old friends.
I lived right here on the estate.

You've probably seen me there at the table,
having dinner with you every night.

Ilya llych is our good right hand.

- Would you like some tea, Godfather?
- No, no.

Ah!

Ah, God!

- What's the matter, Grandmother?

Forgot to tell Alexandr...

I received a letter from Kharkov today.

Pavel Alexeyevich
sent me his newest pamphlet.

- Oh, really?
- Mm-hmm.

- Is it interesting?
- Yes.

Interesting, yes...

but strange.

He's now refuting the very same things
he defended...

seven years ago.

How, how, how, how -

How... what?

How awful.

Nothing awful in it.
It happens all the time.

So just drink your tea, Mother.

No.

I want to talk.

We all want to talk.

We've been talking.

We've been talking and reading
and writing pamphlets...

for 50 years...

and I say, enough.

Why is it unpleasant for you
to hear me speak?

Oh!

Excuse me, Jean, but you have changed so much
this last year, I hardly know you.

You used to be a man of character...

a man of fine opinions,
an enlightened man, and now -

Oh, yes. I was so enlightened...

it's unfortunate
I lit the way for no one.

An enlightened man.
What worse could you say about me?

- I'm 47 years old.

Up until one year ago,
I thought exactly the same way you did.

I joyed to cloud my mind
with this rank scholasticism...

that we all hold so dear...

not to see real life.

I knew that I was doing right.

What a fine man.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
if you only knew.

How can we know if you don't tell us?

I- I spend my nights in a vicious fury...

at the life I've let slip away from me.

I could have enjoyed everything in life.
I could have enjoyed everything!

I enjoyed nothing!

Now I'm too old.

Uncle, it's so depressing.

Are you blaming your former convictions?

What you say is not the fault
of your convictions - it's your fault!

It's your own fault!

Convictions by themselves are nothing.

Like - Like paint on a palette.

It's you who should have been working,
you who should have been using them...

doing real work.

- Oh, real work?
- Yes!

Well, not everyone is called,
you know, like our Herr Professor...

to go speaking and writing
and spewing work forth...

like some farm machine.

What do you mean by that?

Grandmother, Uncle Vanya, please!

I'm sorry. I'm done.

I am silent. Excuse me.

What a lovely day today.

Not too hot.

Excellent weather for -

Suicide.

Chick, chick,
chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!

Chick, chick, chick, chick,
chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!

- Chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!
- Nanny, which one are you calling?

Polka Dot has gone off with her chicks.

I don't want the crows to get them.

Here, chick, chick, chick,
chick, chick, chick, chick!

- Chick, chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!

- Uh, Doctor, they've come for you.
- Who?

Uh, from the factory.
There's been - They need you.

Fine. Well, I have to go, damn it.
What a shame.

I'm so sorry. Um, why don't you
come back for supper, after the factory?

Well, it'd be too late then, won't it?
How could I? How could I?

Waffles, get me a glass of vodka,
would you, please?

Glass of vodka.

Well, if you should like to stop by sometime,
perhaps with Sophie here...

I would be most delighted.

I only have the 80 acres,
but if it interested you...

next to me we have a model orchard
such as you won't see within a thousand miles.

It's a state reserve.

And the, um, overseer, the old forester...

he's usually ill, you see...

and actually
I get to oversee the work myself.

- Yes, they told me you loved the woods.
- Oh, yes.

I- I suppose there's much good
to be done there.

Oh, much good.

But my question is, doesn't it interfere
with your real calling?

My real calling?

God knows what our real calling is.

The woods. You find them interesting.

Interesting? Fascinating, yes.

Yes. Fascinating.

You don't seem that old.

What would we say? Um, 36, 37?

- So?

Well, how interesting can that be, really,
alone in the woods all the time?

I should find it quite monotonous.

No, it's-it's really -
it's really quite interesting.

Every year he plots new forests
or he makes a plan to conserve the old ones.

He's received both a medal
and a diploma for his work.

If you listen to him,
you'll see what he means.

He says that forests embellish the land...

and that they instill in man
a love of beauty...

that they raise the mind.

Um, they moderate the climate...

and in the lands
where the climate is milder...

then people struggle less with nature...

and the people in those lands
are milder and gentler...

and their speech is more refined,
and their movements are more graceful...

and they cultivate the arts and sciences,
and there's joy in their philosophy...

and they treat women with nobleness.

Bravo! Bravo! This is magnificent.

But now it's not convincing, my friend,
as I still must fuel my stoves...

and build with those same woods
that you prize.

- Burn peat in your stoves.
- Hmm?

Build your barn of stones.
You understand?

Yes, sometimes we cut wood
out of necessity.

But why be wanton? Why?

Our forests fall before the ax.

Billions of trees, all perishing.

The homes of birds and beasts
being laid waste.

The level of the rivers falls,
and they dry up.

Sublime landscapes disappear,
never to return...

because we haven't sense enough to bend down
and pick fuel up from the ground.

Isn't this so?

What must human beings be
to destroy what they can never create?

God's given us reason and power of thought
so that we may improve our lot...

and what have we used these powers for
but waste?

We've destroyed our forests,
our rivers run dry...

our wildlife is all but extinct...

our climate ruined.

And every day, every day,
wherever one looks...

our life is more hideous.

Oh, I see. You think me amusing.

These seem to you the thoughts
of some poor eccentric.

Perhaps -
Perhaps it's naive, too, on my part.

Perhaps you think that, but I pass
by the woods I've saved from the ax...

and I hear the forest sighing.

I planted that forest.

And I think things may be in our power.

You understand?
Perhaps the climate itself is in our control.

Why not?

And if in a thousand years,
people are happy...

I will have played a part
in that happiness.

A small part.

I plant a birch tree.
I watch it take root.

It grows. It sways in the wind.

And I feel such pride.

Well. Well, my time is up.
I must be off.

Thank you, Waffles.

And, of course, it's possible
I am just an eccentric.

And thank you for the honor
of your hospitality.

- When will we see you again?
- I can't say.

Sooner than next month, I hope.

You -

What?

You've fallen into
one of your moods again?

- Excuse me?
- You're being impossible.

- Was I?
- Yes, you were.

- Why are you baiting your mother?

And this morning at breakfast,
you quarreled with Alexandr.

Yes!

Excuse me.

- How petty.
- Petty?

- Yes.
- What if I hate him?

- Why should you hate him?

He's like everybody else.

He's no worse than you.

Oh, look at yourself.

Look at your face.
Look at the way you move.

You're too lazy to live, with your torpor.

- Too lazy to live?
- Yes, you are.

Yes.

I am.

I'm too bored.

Do you know?

Everyone berates my husband.

Everyone berates him.

Everybody pities me. Oh, the poor woman
saddled with such an old man.

They're so concerned for me.

I mean, you must excuse me,
but it's quite disgusting. Don't you think so?

Why can you not look with indifference
on a woman who's not your own?

- Why? Because the doctor's right.

There is in each one of you a demon
of destruction that spares nothing -

neither forests, birds, women...

nor each other.

You know, I don't care for that philosophy.

He has an interesting face.

- "He"?
- Our doctor.

- Yes?
- Nervous face.

A tired face, I think.

- Sonya finds him attractive.

I think she's in love with him.

I understand it.

Do you know he's been here three times
since I first came...

and I haven't once
spoken with him properly?

What must he think?

He must think I'm mean.

Oh, must he?

I've never shown him any kindness.

- Do you know why we're such good friends?
- No.

It's because we're both tiresome people.

- We're both dull.

No, please don't look at me that way.
I don't like it.

Well, how else am I supposed to look at you?
I love you!

I look at you, and I see my life -

I see my youth and I see my happiness.

I know that the chance that you could
reciprocate those feelings...

is nothing.

- But I want nothing.

- I just want you to permit me to look at you -
- Shh!

- And to hear your voice.
- Shh! Someone will hear you.

I just want you to let me speak with you
and just to be near you.

Oh, God.

This is awful.

Good. Okay.

Uh, the next act is -
it's a couple of weeks later.

It's in the dining room,
and it's very late at night.

Would you follow me?

- Who's there? Sonya, is that you?
- It's me.

Lenotchka, I'm in pain. Help me.

Your blankets fell.
I'll close the window.

No, no, no. It's stifling in here.

I dozed off...

and dreamed that my leg
belonged to someone else.

I was awoken by the pain.

I don't think it's gout.
I think it's rheumatism!

What time is it?

Twenty past 12:00.

In the morning,
please go to the library...

and look for the Batiushkov.

- I think we have him.
- Hmm?

Look for -

In the morning,
please look for the Batiushkov.

I remember we have him.
Why can I not breathe?

Two nights with no sleep.
You're tired.

They say Turgenev
developed angina pectoris from gout.

I'll get it too.

Damn old age.

Damn, revolting, impotent old age.

I grow more repulsive to myself.

And I'm sure you, too,
find it revolting to look on me.

Do you know,
you speak of your age in a tone...

that suggests that it's our fault
you've grown old?

I revolt you most of all.

You're right, of course.

You're young, you're healthy,
you're beautiful, you want to live.

Here am I, an old man,
more than one foot in the grave.

- Isn't that right?
- Oh, God.

- Of course that's right.
- Oh.

How foolish of me to still keep on living.

Please.

- Be patient.
- I'm ready to collapse.

- Soon I'll set you all free. Yes.
- What must I do? Please, be silent.

Because of me
you're all ready to collapse, all of you.

- Everyone bored.
- Oh!

Wasting their youth.

I'm the only one content. I see it.

- Oh, you're destroying me.
- Yes!

Of course I'm destroying everyone.

What do you want from me?

Nothing.

Well, then be quiet.

Fine. Let us stipulate.

I am repulsive.

I am a despot.
I am that sick egoist you all think me to be.

But have I not earned it?

I worked all my life for science,
respected and honored.

And then I'm thrust, thrust...

for no apparent reason...

into this tomb among the mindless...

every day
their prattle stuffing my ears.

I want to live.

Here, I'm in exile.

Every waking moment
I can pine for the past...

envy the success of others...

or I can fear death.

Those three choices are my life.

Have patience.

Five or six more years, I'll be old too.

- Hmm?

- Papa.

Papa, you sent for Dr. Astrov.

Now he's here, and you don't want him.

What am I supposed to tell him
now that we've called him here for nothing?

What good can Astrov do me?

The man knows as much of medicine
as I do of beekeeping.

What am I to tell him, please?
We sent for him.

The man's a fool!
I don't want to speak to him.

Well, as you wish then! Fine!

What time is it?

It's almost 1:00.

I can't breathe.

Please, Sonya, my drops -
they're on the table.

Just a moment.

No, not these!
The ones I asked for, for God's sake!

Some people might appreciate
this peevishness!

I do not.

Please spare me. I don't like it.

I need my rest.
Tomorrow is a working day!

- Well, there's a storm brewing outside.
- Oh.

Did you see that lightning?

Yelena and Sonya, off to bed.

You are relieved.

Oh, please don't leave me alone with him.
He'll talk me to death.

- They need their rest.
- No.

They need their rest.
Two nights without sleep?

All right, fine.
Both of you, off to bed.

And you, too, please.
Sincerely, with thanks.

In the name of our friendship,
please leave me alone.

Don't leave me alone with him.
I'm quite serious.

- You know, this is becoming funny.

Nanny, what are you doing up?
You should be in bed.

Fine. Samovar is on the table.

Easy to say "Go to bed."

Everybody's up.
Everybody's fatigued beyond measure.

I'm the only one happy.

I'm ecstatic.

What's the matter, little father?

Your legs? Oh.

My legs hurt too.

I have the 'ralgia. 'Ralgia all day.

Sonya's sainted mother
took it so to heart when you hurt.

She loved you so, that woman. Mmm.

Well, the old are like the young.

They want someone to pity them.

But nobody ever feels sorry for the old.

Now, you go to bed now, little father...

and I'll make you some linden tea.

And I'll warm your feet for you.

- And I'll pray for you. Yes, I will.
- Oh, go on. Go on.

Now, come - Oh! 'Ralgia. Oh.

Come to bed. That's right.

I've been so tired by him,
I can hardly stand.

You're tired by him?

I'm sick of myself.

Two nights without sleep.
I'm tired to nausea.

This is not a happy home.

Your mother loathes everything in the world
except her pamphlets.

And the professor -

the professor mistrusts me.

- He fears you.
- He fears me?

Yes, he does.

Sonya's angry with her father...

pettish with me,
hasn't spoken to me in the last two weeks.

Not one word.

And you hate my husband.

You despise your mother
and you make no effort to conceal it.

I go around 20 times a day,
I'm on the edge of tears.

One would not say this is a happy home.

Oh, let's drop this discourse, shall we?

You're an educated man...

a thoughtful man.

Our world is not worsened
by fires or by robbers...

but do you understand?

By hate.

Our world's destroyed by hate...

by pettiness.

And your job should be to be strong...

and not to carp at those around you,
not to grumble...

but simply to reconcile
and to make peace.

- I'd make my peace with you.
- No, stop that.

I'd like it if you left.

Now, please.

The rain is ending.
Everything will be refreshed.

The earth exhales.

But I will not be refreshed...

by the coming and the passing
of the storm.

My whole life, day and night, I feel that...

I've squandered my past on nonsense.

My present is sunk in absurdity.

My one feeling is for you.

How can I renounce it?
My one feeling in life.

It's dying like a ray of sun
that's shone into a well.

You speak to me...

of love?

How am I to deal with that?

Forgive me. I must say good night.

Coincidentally, though,
here by my side...

another person's life
is being wasted in this house.

Whose could that be?

What are you waiting for?
For your life to end?

What stupid, pointless principle
is standing in your way?

Do you comprehend
what I'm trying to tell you?

Are you drunk?

- It could very well be.

Where's the doctor?

- He's spending the night in my room.

Could be. It could be.

- Anything could be.

- Why have you been drinking?
- Why?

Because it gives me the illusion...

that I might be alive.

Don't scold me.

You never used to drink.

- I drink now.
- Yeah, I know.

- And you never spoke so much.
- I didn't?

Perhaps that's just -

Go to bed. You bore me.

Do I?

Oh, my enchanted one, my darling.

No, no, no. God, you disgust me!

Ten years ago...

I'd see her at my sister's.

She was 17...

and I was 37.

I could have proposed to her,
and now she'd be my wife...

and both of us would've
been woken by the storm.

The thunder frightened you.

Don't be afraid. I'm here.

Why, in the name of God, am I old?
What happened to me?

It's that damned pseudo-morality...

and that lazy, stupid intellect.

Jargon, ideas about the "ruin of the world."

Who the hell does she think she is?

They cheated me.

I worshipped that man.

Sonya and I,
we squeezed the last dregs...

from that estate like slaves.

Begrudged ourselves food.

We sent thousands to him.

Why shouldn't we to a man of genius?

We basked in him.

Now the man retires...

it's screamingly clear.

What does he leave as his legacy?
This colossus?

What work? What -

He leaves nothing.

Not a single page.

A nothing, a fraud.

A vicious failure...

who cheated a man who loved him.

- Play something.
- No, no, no, no. The whole house is asleep.

Oh, play it.

Aww!

All alone?

No ladies, eh?

The house is flying
The stove is flying

Where can the master make his bed?

The storm woke me.

Some rain.

I heard Yelena.

Very probably.

She's a splendid woman.

God help us when doctors disagree.

Is there a town whose pharmacy's
not represented here?

The whole region must be sick of his gout.

You tell me - is he ill or shamming?

He's ill.

And you? What's your complaint?
A sympathetic nature?

Or could you be sick with love
for the invalid's wife?

- We're just friends.
- Already?

Well, now, what could that mean?

A woman and a man can be friends
only at the end term of this sequence:

First, acquaintances...

and then lovers...

and then -

that's right, friends.

A lovely, elegant philosophy.

Ya think so?

Yes, I confess, I'm becoming a vulgarian.

I'm drunk too.

And when I am this drunk, I become arrogant
and brazen to the last degree.

And nothing in that state
can faze me then.

I undertake and perform
the most difficult feats flawlessly.

I see the future
and devise the most elegant plans.

And during this time,
I no longer seem to myself...

an awkward and useless
member of this world.

No, I seem, on the contrary...

a powerful, a motive force...

with my own system
of thought and philosophy.

And all of you, my dears - because it's true -
look as big as cockroaches...

Or some quite, quite unimportant things.

- Would you play, please?
- Anything for you.

Play, play! Ah!
Let's have a drink. Come on.

And in the daylight, we'll go to my place.
Ya up for it?

Fellow works for me
says that the whole time: "Ya up for it?"

Um - Excuse me, I'm -

I'm going to go get dressed.

Uncle Vanya?

You got drunk with the doctor again?

Two free voices
found each other in the night...

and formed a pact.

Why do you do this?

At your age, it's truly unattractive.

My age doesn't come into it.

No?

A man with nothing in his life...

with no real life...

subsists on a fantasy.

Then that is something in his life.

The hay is cut. Every day it rains.
Everything is rotting.

And you're living on fantasy.

You've thrown your work up,
and I'm working alone, and I'm tired.

You neglect your job.

You know,
just now when you looked at me...

you looked just like your dear mother.

Phew, my darling sister.

Where are you now?

Oh, my dear...

if you only knew.

What is it she should know?

It isn't good. It isn't good.

It's nothing.

I'm going.

Can I have a word with you, please?

If it aids you to drink, then please drink.

But please don't let my uncle drink anymore.
It's very bad for him.

So be it. We'll drink no more.

I can count on you?

Settled and signed.

Ah! Now I'll be getting home.

Well, why don't you just stay
until the morning?

- Oh, no, no.
- It's raining.

Storm will pass.
I think that this is the end of it.

No, I'll go. One thing, please.

Don't call me for your father anymore.

I tell him gout, he says rheumatism.
I say stay in bed, he gets up.

I'm called to see him, he won't speak to me.

He's difficult.

Uh, can - can I get you something to eat?

Yes, I'll take something. Thank you.

They say that through his life,
he had a great success with women...

and that women spoiled him.

Today I didn't eat a thing.
Today I drank.

Yes, your father's difficult.

You know, we're alone here.

Let's speak candidly, do you think?

I couldn't live one month in this house.

I'd suffocate
with your father and his gout...

and your uncle
and his - what is it, depression?

Your grandmother.

Your stepmother.

- My stepmother.
- Hmm.

Beauty should be pure.

Of face, of dress, of the mind.

And here is a beautiful -
a lovely woman...

and all she does is eat, sleep
and stroll through the day...

to enchant us
with that great beauty which is hers.

She does no more. She has no duties.
She has no responsibilities.

Others work for her.

How can an idle life be pure?

Am I too hard?

Perhaps I am.

I'm like your Uncle Vanya -
disappointed in life, become a detractor.

Disappointed in life?

Um, in life? No.

In our life.

Our provincial life.

I hate it with the power of my soul.

And my life - oh, yes.

In my own personal life,
I am pleased to swear to God...

there's not one thing good in it.

When you walk through the woods...

if you walk through
the dark woods at night...

if you have a glimmer,
a small gleam of light before you...

then you needn't feel the night...

nor darkness, fatigue.

Nor the branches as they whip your face.

But, as you know, I work alone...

and live alone.

There is no one.

And those things which assail me...

as there is no light before me...

which could make my burden light.

So, I expect nothing...

and there is nothing for me.

And do you know?

I don't like people.

And for the longest time...

I've loved no one.

You've loved no one?

No one.

Hmm.

Well...

I feel a certain affection.

I feel affection, for example,
toward Nanny.

- You do?
- Yes.

Our peasants are so alive,
living in squalor.

And what do we live in?
Our intelligentsia.

Our good and simple friends,
to put it bluntly, you understand.

Small concerns,
small thoughts and feelings.

And the brighter they are, the worse they are -
assailed by introspection and analysis.

I mean, what's happened to the world?

They whine and spew and slander...

"Oh, this one's a psychopath,
that one's a phrasemonger."

And then let them find someone
whom they can't pigeonhole...

and that one's the most eccentric person.

I love the forest. I don't eat meat.

A most eccentric person.

Where could we look to find a simple,
unencumbered and spontaneous relation...

to our fellows and the world?

Where? Nowhere.
Nowhere on this earth, I assure you.

Please don't drink anymore.

Why not?

Because it isn't like you, that's why.

Is that what you think?

You are refined.

You - You have a gentle voice.

You, more than anyone I know,
are as you spoke of - beautiful.

- Why do you act in an ordinary way?
- I?

- You drink, you gamble.
- Do I?

Please stop.

You said that we work not to create
but to destroy...

gifts that are given from above.

So why do you do it?

You don't have to do it.

Please don't drink.

Please.

I won't drink.

- You won't drink anymore?
- No.

- Give me your word of honor.
- I give it.

Thank you.

Basta! Eh?

- Look at that. I've sobered up.

Sober already...

and I shall stay so,
as I have vowed...

till the end of my days.

Well -

So -

My time has passed.

I'm old. I'm jaded.

I'm overworked.

My feelings are blunt.

I have lost capacity for all attachment.

What attracts me?

What attracts me?
Beauty attracts me.

I can't remain indifferent to it.

Yelena, for example, you see,
she'd turn my head in a day.

But then...

it's not love, now, is it?

What is it?

- It's nothing.
- No, what is it?

Oh, you know, in Lent I had a patient die
under the chloroform.

- It's time you forgot that.
- Mmm.

- Can I ask you something?
- Hmm?

Um...

if I had a friend...

or a younger sister, let's say...

and then if you found out...

that this girl...

loved you...

then...

how would that make you feel?

I have no idea.
I suspect that I wouldn't feel a thing.

You'd feel nothing?

I think what I think
is that I'd give her to understand...

how I could never love her.

Uh, could you perhaps ask me this later?

If I'm to go, I must go.

And now is the time.

Farewell, my dove.

If we keep talking, we'll be talking at noon.

Good-bye.

He's told me nothing, and yet I'm happy.

He keeps his heart and his soul from me...

yet I'm happy and I don't care.

"A beautiful man," I said.
"You have a lovely voice."

Was that forward?

I don't care.
I - I love his voice. Why shouldn't I?

And yet...

I told him about my friend.

Oh! "A younger sister," I said...

and he didn't get a word.

Lord...

why did you make me so plain?

Last week in church,
I heard the woman behind me.

"She's so kind and generous.

What a pity she's so plain.

That she's so plain."

End of the storm.

Such a peace in the air.

- Where's the doctor?
- Gone.

- Sophie.
- What?

How long are you going to go on
being short with me?

We've done no harm to each other.
Why should we be enemies?

Don't you feel -

Enough.

- I -
- Yes?

- I wanted to.
- I did too.

Well, let's not be angry anymore then.

With all my heart.

That's good.

Thank you.

Has Papa gone to bed yet?

No.

He's still sitting up.

Weeks at a time we don't talk to each other.
God only knows why.

Drink with me.

Br�derschaft.

Out of the same glass.

I wanted to make it up for a long time,
and I felt ashamed.

Why are you crying?

It's nothing.

You're angry with me...

because you think I married your father
for my own convenience.

If you believe in oaths...

I give you my oath on this:

I married him for love.

He was a famous man,
a man of learning...

and I was captivated by it.

And it was not real.

The love was not real...

but I thought it was real.

At the time I thought it was real,
and I'm not to blame.

But, Sophie, ever since our wedding day,
you haven't stopped accusing me.

- I accused you?
- You did.

I saw it... in your eyes.

We'll have no more of that.

You mustn't look like that on people.

It doesn't suit you.

And we must trust.

How can we live if we do not?

- Can I ask you something?
- Yes.

- But honestly, as a friend.
- Yes.

Are you happy?

No.

- I knew you weren't.

And can I ask you something else?

Wouldn't you have preferred
to marry a younger husband?

Oh, what a schoolgirl you are.

- Well, wouldn't you have?
- Yes.

Yes, I should have liked that.

All right. What else?

Um, do you like the doctor?

Very much.

- Do I look funny?
- Mm-mmm.

Uh! It's - It's just that
even though he's not here...

I can still hear his voice.

And if I look over by the window,
I can see him there.

God, let me say it!

Oh, my God. I shouldn't talk so loud.
Should we go to my room?

Do I seem silly to you?

Ugh. Of course I do.
Tell me about him.

- What should I tell?
- Isn't he so clever? Isn't he?

Beyond that, he does things.
He heals people, and he plants.

- Oh, my dear, it's so much more than that.
- It is?

He plants a tree,
and when he plants it...

he's - he's trying to see what comes
of his action in a thousand years.

A thousand years. Do you know?
He's thinking of the happiness of man.

- When you find such beautiful people -
- What?

They must... be loved.

- He drinks.
- Yes, he does.

He can be coarse.

When you think of his life,
he ministers to crude, barbarous folk.

Their poverty, their ignorance
around him constantly -

disease.

A man who lives this life -

I wish you this happiness.

With all my soul.

You deserve happiness.

I am a dull, second-rank character, you know.

Throughout my whole life,
that's what I've been.

When you come to think of it,
I am quite thoroughly unhappy.

- Why are you laughing?

I feel so happy.

- Would you like me to play for you?
- Yes! Very much.

- Yes?
- Yes. I can't sleep.

Good. Go ask your father.

When he's ill, music sometimes upsets him.
If it's all right, then I'll play.

All right.

Oh.

So long since I've played.

I'll play and then I'll cry
like some damned fool.

He says we can't.

Okay. Let's take a little break.

It used to be so nice when you smoked too.
Now I'm the only one.

Sorry, Jer.

You know, I love to go to Milwaukee.
They have wonderful restaurants there.

- Right.
- Yes.

- Did you find anyplace good to eat in Hartford?
- No. Max's on Main.

- Do you know I have an Indian guru?
- You do?

Yes, Gurumayi is a great teacher.

So, anyway, the, uh, next two acts...

take place three months later, in September.

So you can just imagine that all the things
that have been going on...

have been going on for three more months.

The Herr Professor has been so good
as to express this -

He wishes that we should gather here
in this drawing room...

at 1:00 this afternoon.

That'll be in one-quarter hour...

at which time he has some thing...

which he wishes to share with the world.

Some business matter probably.

But what business? He has none anymore.

He writes garbage, he grumbles,
he envies the world, and that's his life.

- Uncle!
- All right. All right.

You're right.

Oh, look at how she moves.

Morbid with laziness.

A panorama of inaction.

Must you go on always?
Is there nothing to do?

I'm dying of boredom.

There's no end of things to do,
if you wish to do them.

- Tell me one.
- Teach, treat the sick, care for the estate.

- Hmm.
- Much to do. When you and Papa weren't here...

Uncle and I used to
go to the market to sell flour.

I wouldn't know how.

Eh -

Besides, it doesn't interest me.

In ideological novels, people always jump up
and declare that they'll teach or treat the sick.

But how should I do that?
Just suddenly - Just -

I- If - If you did it, you'd be drawn to it.
You would.

I know you're bored. It's so contagious.
Uncle Vanya has it now.

He does nothing except follow you
like a cloud on a leash all day long.

I put down my work,
and I come to chat.

I've grown so lazy.

And our doctor, who used to
come here once a month, if that...

is here every single day...

and turns his back on his forests
and his medicine and lives under your spell.

But... why are you languishing, my dear,
my splendor?

Wake up!

Pulse with life!

You, when the blood of mermaids
courses through your veins...

wake up to your mermaid life.

For once in your life, let yourself go.

Rise to the heights...

and then plunge into the frothy brine.

Love with a water spirit awaits you...

in your guise as the naiad of perfection...

so that our Herr Professor and all of us...

can just throw back our heads and say...

"Who was that nymph?"

Will you shut up?

It's very cruel.

Forgive me, my joy. Forgive me.

I apologize.

- Forgive me. Peace.
- You'd try the patience of a saint.

- Hmm, as a peace offering -
- Admit it!

As an offering of peace,
I am going to bring you...

a bouquet of roses!

Flowers which I had the foresight
to have obtained this morning.

Sad roses.

Autumn roses.

For you.

Sad autumn roses.

It's already September.

How are we gonna get through the winter here?

Where's the doctor?

He's up in Uncle Vanya's room.
He's writing something.

I'm glad Uncle's gone,
'cause I wanted to talk to you.

About what?

- "About what?"

I'm ugly.

Oh, you have beautiful hair,
and you have beautiful eyes -

No. The unattractive woman
is told that she has beautiful hair...

and beautiful eyes.

I've loved him for six years.

I love him more than I love my own mother.

I always hear his voice,
and I always feel his hand on my hand.

And I always - always look at the door,
like at any moment and -

I keep coming to you about him.
And he's here. He looks right through me.

All night long, I pray.
I know I have no hope.

Yesterday, I confessed to Uncle Vanya.

All the servants know I love him.
Everybody knows.

What does he think?

He doesn't notice me.

Well, he's a strange man.

Why not let me approach him?
What do you think?

I'll be discreet.

A most gentle hint.

Really, how long are you to live in uncertainty?

He loves you, or he doesn't.
Yes or no.

If it's no...

then let him stop coming here.

Yes?

He said he would show me his maps.

Tell him that I want him.

And you'll tell me the truth?

Oh, I will because...

I think the truth,
no matter how bad...

is always better than an uncertainty.

I promise you.

Not knowing is better
because then at least there's hope.

- What's that?
- Nothing.

Lord...

what's worse than knowing someone's secret
and standing by powerless?

Clearly the man cares nothing for her.

Why shouldn't he take her?

A country doctor his age?

A kind, pure, intelligent girl.

What's wrong with her for a wife?

Nothing.

Not a thing.

Poor child.

Live in a gray world like this,
hear nothing but the banal every day.

Then this man appears.

A handsome man.

A captivating man.

To yield...

to such a man.

Vanya said,
"Mermaid's blood runs in your veins.

For once in your life, let yourself go."

Oh, should I not do that?

For once in my life?

For once in my life,
when the man comes here every day...

and every day
I know the reason why he comes.

Oh, God.

I'm stained already.

I should fall on my knees to Sonya
and beg her forgiveness.

Good morning.

You wanted -
You wanted to see my drawings.

Uh, yesterday, you said you had some maps
you were working on?

- Yes, I have them.
- Are you free?

I am.

Um -

Uh, where were you born?

Uh, in Petersburg.

- And where did you study?
- In the conservatory.

Mm-hmm. You may find
that this won't interest you.

No? Why not?

- It's true, I don't know the country.
- Uh-huh.

The, um...

topography.

Indeed.

But I've read a great deal. I -

I have my own worktable in Vanya's room, and
when I'm on the point of extreme exhaustion...

I steal away to spend
an hour or two over my maps.

Vanya and Sophie working away
at the accounts...

and I'm seated beside them
at my worktable, painting away.

And I'm warm. Everything's quiet.

I'm at peace.

I hear the crickets outside.

Totally at peace.

Once a month perhaps.

All right.

Now this is our district
as it was 50 years ago.

The greens indicate the forests.
As you see, half of the whole is wooded.

Where we see the green crosshatched with red,
we have the range of elk and wild goats.

I show both flora and the fauna here.

On the lakes,
there were swans, geese, ducks...

and, as the old folks say,
"a power of birds," they would say.

We have the villages and hamlets,
and here and there the various small farms.

Outposts, religious encampments, water mills -

Much cattle, and horses.
These are marked with blue.

There were great herds here.
Each household kept, on the average, 12 horses.

Now, here...

25 years have passed.

Now already we see that only
one-third of the area is timbered.

The goats are gone.
We still see elk occasionally...

but the blues and greens are vanishing
and, uh, so on.

As we go down to the third rendition
where we see the district as it is today...

there's no solid green.

The elk and swans and geese have disappeared.
There's no sign of the old settlements.

In short, here's a perfect picture
of a gradual and relentless decay...

which, in 10 or 12 more years...

will be totally complete,
and the land will be dead.

So you say, fine.
You say deep cultural influences are at work...

and that the old life
must naturally give way to the new.

And I would agree with you
if in place of decimated forests...

we had industry, railroads, schools.

If the populous were happier,
better employed, in better health.

But what do we have here?
We have the same swamps, the same mosquitoes...

the same lack of roads, the same typhus,
diphtheria, rickets - diseases of poverty.

The same eternal fires.

So that what we see is a struggle for existence
that is beyond human strength...

where we degenerate in ignorance and sloth.

And so man, freezing, starving, diseased -

Man, to preserve the last vestige of his life,
to save his children...

reaches out reflexively...

in his animal fear and destroys,
with no thought for tomorrow...

so that nearly everything is destroyed
and nothing new brought into being.

And I see this doesn't interest you.

- I understand so little of it.
- Ah.

But aside from that though,
it holds no interest for you.

- In - In truth, my mind was on other things.
- I see.

- Forgive me.
- Not at all.

And what preoccupied me - was -

- In fact, I don't know how to begin.
- Please.

- It was an interrogation.
- An interrogation?

Yes, a harmless one.

If I may.

Will you sit down?

This matter concerns
a certain friend of mine...

a young friend.

May we speak frankly?

Of course.

And the things we say, we never spoke of.

- Do you understand?
- I do.

The matter concerns my stepdaughter, Sonya.

Yes?

How do you feel about her?

I respect her.

Your feelings for her as a woman?

- My feelings for her -
- Yes.

I have none.

Ah. Uh-huh.

Um -

Two more words, and I'm done.

Have you perhaps remarked
her attitude toward you?

No.

Well, then I'm done.

You don't love Sonya...

and you will not.

Now, she's suffering...

and I must ask your compassion...

that you not come here anymore.

Uh-huh.

Well, it's late. I see I've stayed, um -

- I really don't have the time to come here.
- Oh, Lord, what a sordid... interview.

Well, it's done.
And we never spoke of it at all.

And now you must go.

You see that.

- If only one month ago, you had approached me -
- No.

Yes. Then I might have considered it.

And if she's suffering, of course -

I mean, if the poor girl's suffering, I, um -

Um -

I understand.

You understand what?

To belabor the obvious,
you call me here for an interrogation...

and I walk into your trap, didn't I?

"What do you feel as a man?

Could we know your true feelings?"

All right, I'll tell you,
and without the charade.

I confess it.

- I'm yours. I surrender.
- Are you out of your mind?

I've confessed it.
Your sweet ruse has forced it out of me.

I'm going to tell you something.
I'm better than you think.

- I'm nobler than you think, I swear it to you.
- All right. I'll take my leave of you.

This is the last time. Where shall we meet?
Quickly, say it.

- And one kiss.
- I swear to God!

- How beautiful you are. Your face -
- No, please. Please go away.

- You tell me where we're gonna meet tomorrow.
- No!

- It's over. It's decided.
- Please leave me.

By the orchard, 2:00. Yes?

Let me go. Let me -

Oh, God.

Very well.

Never mind it.

Today, my dear friend -

The weather -

Wouldn't you say the weather,
which looked so cloudy formerly...

is changed and the sun's out...

in what we must say
has turned into a splendid afternoon?

The winter crop's quite good actually.

The only mark against it is...

the days grow short and -

What can anyone do about that?

I would entreat you...

please...

to exercise all of your influence
to see that my husband and I...

quit this place at once.

This afternoon.

- Do you hear?
- Yes.

Did you hear what I said?

You know, I - I -
I saw this whole thing.

I -

Tell me you -

Heard what I said.

We're leaving here today.

You know, Your Excellency,
I myself have been feeling...

particularly other than well of late.

Although in my case it's my head.

- My head in particular has been feeling -
- Where are the others?

Where are they? I hate this house.

Why should I live in a labyrinth?
Twenty-six rooms, everybody wandering -

Please ask Maman to come in here.

Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated.

- What did he say?
- Oh, not now.

What is it?

I simply cannot learn to live the country life.

- He won't be coming here anymore, is that it?

- Tell it to me. Yes?
- Sonya.

Sonya!

Fine, she ignores me.
Oh, Nurse, would you come in too, please?

And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would...

like the sunflower, turn your attentive heads.

- Here is Maman.

Now, ladies and gentlemen...

"I've summoned you here, citizens,
to inform you that the inspector general...

has chosen to pay us a visit."

Uh, joking aside then, and in a serious vein...

I've asked you here for your help and advice
in the full hope that I shall receive them.

I'm a scholar, a man of books.

I've long been a stranger to the intricacies...

the vicissitudes of the business life.

I cannot live without
the help and guidance of practical folk.

So, I've asked you...

Ivan Petrovich, Yelena...

Ilya llych -

- Maman.
- Ah.

An old man, not a well man.

A man who knows from his age -
manet omnes una nox -

Uh-huh.

That time and tide happens to us all.

- My life is finished.
- Oh.

But I possess a young wife...

and for us to continue living in the country
is simply not possible.

We are not made to live the country life.

Nor can we live in town...

on an income of the magnitude
this estate provides.

We could sell the forest.

A measure both extreme and nonrenewable.

For once sold, it yields no more income.

So where can we seek to find a strategy
that provides...

both a definite and still
a permanent source of income?

I have sought for and, I think,
found that strategy...

and now have the honor
of presenting it to you.

In broad strokes, in general principle...

our estate yields
on the average two percent.

I propose to sell it.

If we sell the estate
and invest in interest-bearing bonds...

we receive four to five percent.

Four to five!

And I think there'll be enough surplus...

to purchase a villa in Finland!

Excuse me. I'm sorry.
Uh, would you repeat what you said?

I will, with the proceeds,
invest in interest-bearing bonds...

and with whatever residue there is...

purchase a small home in Finland.

Yes.

No, not the Finland part.
You - You said the proceeds.

The proceeds of what?

My sale of the estate.

Ah, yes.
You see, now that was the thing...

that caught my attention.

You're going to sell the estate?

And -
Wh-where do I go?

And - And, uh - And Sonya here, please?

Uh, and my mother,
if I may be so picayune?

Why, certainly. All in good time.

- One cannot do everything at once.
- No, one cannot.

You know, speaking of human ignorance...

I always supposed that this estate,
which you're going to sell, belonged to Sonya.

- No.
- If I may...

as my late father purchased this estate
as a dowry for my sister...

so that it passed,
in my ignorance to look upon the law...

from my sister to Sonya,
to whom it belongs.

- Certainly. Who denies it?
- Well -

Of course, it belongs to Sonya, without whose
consent one would not think of selling it...

and - and for whose benefit it shall be sold.

Am I out of my mind? Am I raving?
Why are we listening to this? Why -

Please! Please don't contradict Alexandr!
Please!

Believe me,
he sees far better than we what is right.

Well, I'm going to have a drink of water.

Then you just say...

whatever you wish to say.

- You just -
- Why do you inflame yourself?

Do I say my plan is ideal?

It's a plan. Just a plan!

If it is found unsuitable, I shall discard it.

- Your Excellency -
- Yes.

I myself have,
in addition to my reverence for your learning -

- Yes.
- A feeling of kinship...

which brings me close to you.

Now, my brother,
whom I think you know, Grigory llych -

Do you know his brother-in-law,
Fustian Trofich Lakidomov?

- He has a degree too -
- No, not now. Not now. Please!

- No, we're talking business!
- All right.

Ask him.

- What should I ask him?
- The estate was purchased from his uncle.

- Was it not?
- Yes, it was, for the price at that time.

Yes, it was, for the price...

of 95,000 rubles...

of which my father paid down 70...

leaving a debt outstanding of -

Now are you following this?

Because this estate
could not have been bought...

had I not renounced my share, you see,
of my inheritance...

in favor of my sister, whom I dearly loved.

Additionally, had I not toiled like an ox
to discharge the remaining debt -

- I'm sorry I brought it up.
- Which stands free and clear...

thanks to me,
thanks to my efforts.

And here you walk in here
and propose throwing me out in the snow.

I have managed the estate for 25 years.

For 25 years I have worked,
I have sent you the money.

During all that time, not once...

have you thought to think about the man
who worked for you!

Not once.

Twenty-five years, you have paid me...

the magnificent sum
of 500 rubles a year.

500 rubles a year.

And not once did it occur to you
that you might increase it.

Ivan Petrovich, I am not a practical man.
You could've raised it anytime you wanted.

Oh-ho, I see. I should've stolen!

And you despise me because I'm not a thief!

Yes, I should've stolen.
Then I wouldn't be a pauper today!

- Jean, please.
- Vanya, Vanya, words.

Don't ruin good relations.

I've lived like a mouse in the wall,
my mother and I.

Our thoughts and our feelings
turned toward you.

Talked about your works,
we talked about our pride in you...

mentioned your name in awe.

Our nights were spent
reading your periodicals...

your publications...

which now fill me with disgust.

My eyes have opened now.
You write about art?

You understand nothing about art,
because you have no soul.

You're a philistine, a fraud!

- A swine feeding on the leavings of your betters.
- I beg you, stop it!

- I'm leaving.
- You bilked us!

- I insist you stop -
- No, I won't stop! I won't!

Not finished! I have something else to say!
You ruined my life!

I lost the best years of my life for you,
you thief!

- You assassin, you ruined my life!
- I cannot - I-I'm going!

What is it you want?

And how can you speak to me that way?

What gives you the right?

- You're nothing. Nothing!
- Ah.

You want the estate...

it's yours.

Take it.

Take it! I've no need of it!

I can't bear this hell! Do you hear me?
I can't bear it any longer! I'm leaving!

I've ruined it all.
I had talent, intelligence, courage!

- I could've been a Schopenhauer!

I could've been the new Dostoyevsky!

- I could've designed a new philosophy!

What am I saying?

Am I losing my mind? Maman.

Maman. What is this pain, Maman?

Maman? Maman?

- Maman.
- Do as Alexandr says.

What am I going to do?
What am I going to do?

All right. All right, all right!

I know. I know!

So... do you think you'll forget me?

Jean, please!

Jean! Jean. Please.

Inform me. What is going on?

Take him away from me!

Am I to live under the same roof with that?
He lives right here!

I cannot live in the same house
with that man!

Take him away, or I shall have to leave,
and I tell you I will.

- We are leaving here today. Please.
- That nothing of a man!

May we start the arrangements, please?

Papa.

We are so unhappy, Uncle and I.

What about all the nights
that we worked for you? Do you remember?

We - We copied out your books for you.

We translated your texts for you.
We worked without rest, Papa!

We didn't spend a penny on ourselves!
We sent it all to you.

We earned our bread.
I know - I know it's wrong, Papa.

But please, Papa, just hear me
and try to understand us and be charitable.

Alexandr, have it all out with him.

Have it all out with him now, I beg you.

- I beg you.
- Very well.

- Thank you.
- I'll speak to him.

- Did I accuse him?
- No.

- What have I accused him of?
- Nothing.

I'm not angry with him, you understand.

His actions - Uh -

His actions towards me -

One has to say, charitably...

they are strange.

I -

For your sake...

I'll speak to him.

Alexandr, be gentle with him.
Be calm. Try to calm him.

- Oh. Oh.

- Nanny!
- Oh, hush. Hush, my child.

Hush. The geese, they cackle.

The geese cackle, and then they stop.

- They cackle, and then they stop.

- Nanny!
- Aw!

Poor little orphan girl. You're trembling.

Are you cold?

A little linden tea?

- A little raspberries and tea, and it will pass.

You geese, stop it!
Stop it now!

- Oh, God!

- Stop him!

- Stop him! He's gone mad!

Give it to me! Give me the gun!

Damn this. Damn this.

Take me away from here.
I can't stand it any longer.

- Oh, what do I think I'm doing?

Oh!

If we're going to finish, we'd better hurry.

Oh, there's not much left.

- They'll be calling us soon.
- Mm-hmm.

- To say good-bye.
- Mm-hmm.

They've already sent for the horses.

There's not much left.

You know, they're going to go to Kharkov...

- to live.
- Mm-hmm.

- Much better so.
- Mmm, yes. They've had a bad trauma here.

- Well, we'll live again.
- Mmm.

I know we will, as we used to...

in the old ways.

Tea at 7:00, dinner at 12:00.

And in the evening,
we'll sit down to supper as we used to do.

As Christians.

Ah, yes.

You know...

- I haven't had simple noodles for the longest time.

Black with sin as I am.

Well, it's a - it's a long time
since they gave us noodles, that's true.

It's been... quite a while.

There I was coming through
the village this morning...

and that shopkeeper yells out...

"Oh, look, there's the deadbeat.
Hey, freeloader!"

Oh, don't pay him any mind, my darling.

- We're all freeloaders under God.
- Mmm.

Besides, you work.

Sonya works. Vanya works.

- Even me. Busy all the time.

Where is Sonya?

Oh, she went out into the garden
with the doctor, looking for Vanya.

- Are they -
- Well, yes.

They're afraid he's going to
lay hands on himself next.

- Oh. Where's his pistol?
- I hid it. It's in the root cellar.

- Shh!
- Mercy.

- Would you leave me, please?
- Oh.

Certainly.

Would you please leave?

For my part, with the greatest joy.

Ought to have left a decent time ago.

As I said though, I will not do so
till you return what you took from me.

- I took nothing from you.
- Uh-huh.

All right.
Mm-hmm.

Well, if you wish, I'll sit here for a while.

And then, if you'll oblige me...

- subdue you and bind you and search you.

My word on it.

The worst of it, fool of the world...

is to have shot twice...

and twice missed him.

If the mood for shooting struck you,
why not shoot yourself?

Myself? Mmm.

I'll tell you an oddity.
A man, myself, attempts a murder.

Do they arrest him? No. Now, why not?

Obviously, as I am regarded as insane.

- I am thought mad.
- Mmm.

But a man who cloaks his cruelty
and his heartlessness...

and his swinishness, if you will -

a man hides behind a veil
of false achievement -

this wizard, this genius,
this exploiter is not mad.

And a young woman
who marries this old man...

and in the sight
of the entire world betrays him.

I- I saw what you did.

That's right. I did.

And you can go to hell.

And you - you're not mad.

- It's the world that's mad to put up with you.
- Quite poetic.

Well, you see, I'm a madman,
so I'm not responsible.

- Uh-huh.
- I can say whatever I wish.

Well, you're not mad, you know.

You're a fool.

I used to think the foolish, the deranged...

the irresponsible are sick.

They're not sick. They're normal.

- You're quite well.
- Oh, God.

- What am I going to do?
- Nothing.

I'm 47 years old.

If I live to be 60,
I would have to live through...

13 more years.

How could I do that? How can I stand it?

I have nothing to do with those years, you see.

Nothing.

I mean, if I could start anew, if I could live
the rest of my life out in some different way.

If that were possible, as people do.

To wake - To awaken each day and say...

"This is a new day."

If I could lose the past.
How could a person do that?

How could a person start anew
and begin a new life?

Oh, will you shut up?

To start anew.

We cannot start anew, you or I.

This or that that we're living, you know, is our life.

- It is?
- Quite.

People who live after us in 100 or in 200 years -
you know what they'll feel?

They'll despise us
for our stupid and insipid lives.

Perhaps they'll know how to be happy.

We, however - But for you and I
there is but one hope, and that hope is this:

That when we are dead, lying in our graves...

visions may visit us
and that they are of peace.

- Oh, yes.

You know, my friend...

we've said - in this district
we find but two decent, cultivated men...

and we spoke of ourselves.

But this last decade has undone us.

Life has sucked us in -
this foul, philistine life -

and it's corrupted us.

What a shocking surprise.

We've turned out like the rest.

But we've changed the subject.
Give me back what you took.

I took nothing.

You took a large vial of morphine
from my medicine case.

If you intend on killing yourself,
take your gun and go off into the woods.

But give me back the drug,
or people will say I gave it to you.

It's enough I'll have to pronounce you dead
and cut you open. You think I'll enjoy that?

Sophie.

Your uncle has filched a vial of morphine
from me and he won't give it back.

- I-Is this true?
- It is true.

Now, will you please tell him that I must leave
and I must have it returned?

Uncle, give it back.

Give it back, Uncle.

Uncle, am I more happy than you?

Am I despairing?

I bear my life, and I shall,
until it comes to its natural end.

So must you. Please.

Give it back.

Give it to me.

Be kind.

You can be so kind. Take pity on me.

Give the bottle back.

Thank you.

All right. I need to do some work.
I need to turn my hand to something.

- Yes.
- Yes.

As soon as they've gone,
we'll sit down and we'll -

Yes.

Do the accounts.

Vanya! Are you here?

Please go to Alexandr.

He has something he wishes to say.

Go on, Uncle. You have to make it up with him.
You know that.

Come on. I'll go in with you.

- I'm leaving. Good-bye.
- Leaving?

- The horses are here.
- Good-bye?

Today, you promised me
you'd move away from here.

Yes, I remember.
I will, presently.

- You're frightened?
- Yes.

Then stay. Stay.

Stay, and tomorrow at the orchard -

No, we're going,
which is the reason I can look at you.

One thing I should like,
when you think of me, to think well of me...

if you can.

I should like you to respect me.

I beg you to stay.

Admit it. There's not one thing
in the world for you to go to.

Sooner or later,
you're going to have to face that fact.

In Kharkov, in Kursk, somewhere.

Why not here, right now?

Just throw it up and begin again.

Right now. Hmm?

It's such a lovely autumn.

We have orchards.

We have rundown country homes
right out of Turgenev.

You're funny...

and I'm angry with you.

I'm sorry.

But I'll think of you with pleasure.

Why is that?

You're an original.

I'll tell you, I was...

taken with you.

I was tempted... by you.

So...

good.

Shake hands.
Don't think ill of me.

Good-bye then.

You know, I'll tell you something.

This is strange.

You see, I'm sure
you're a good, warmhearted person.

Yet what is there in your nature?

Something.

Here you come, you and your husband...

and industrious people drop their work
and neglect their duties...

spend whole months ministering to you,
talking of you, buzzing around you...

worrying for your husband's gout...

your wishes for this and the other thing...

and all become entangled in your idleness.

One whole month, I haven't done a thing.

People are falling ill.
Everything I cared about's decaying.

Your husband and you, where you alight,
you seem to spread decay.

I overstated myself.

Yet had you stayed, I feel something -

something quite terrible for me...

for you too, would've come to pass.

You know it too.

So...

finita la commedia.

Go. And good-bye.

I take this as a memento.

Isn't that something? You come, we meet.

Suddenly you're gone.

That's the way the world is, it seems.

Do this though...

before Vanya comes back
with some bouquet for you -

A kiss.

One kiss. Yes?

For good-bye.

Yes?

All right then. That's done.

That's done, and all's well.

- I wish you all the best.
- As I wish you.

Whatever. Whatever.

Whatever.

Um, for once in my life.

- I must go.
- Go quickly.

- They're coming. I think -
- Let bygones be bygones.

I have lived through so much
in the last four hours. I have thought so much.

I think I could compose a treatise for posterity
on how one ought to live.

I gladly accept your apology,
and I ask you to accept mine as well. Farewell.

You shall receive the same amount
that you received before.

Sent without fail, regularly.
Everything will be as it was before.

- Maman.
- Alexandr.

Sit for another photograph. Have it sent to me.
How precious you are to me.

- I will.
- Farewell, Your Excellency.

- Don't forget about us.
- Farewell. Farewell, all.

And thank you for the pleasure
of your company.

I have nothing but the utmost respect
for your way of thinking...

your impulses, your enthusiasm.

But, I pray you,
let an old man season his farewell...

with one small observation.

It's not enough to think. One must work.

You understand me?

After all, there is no greater joy
than to do real work in the real world.

All the best to you, ladies and gentlemen.
All the best.

I wish you all the best. Good-bye.

Waffles, while they're at it,
have them bring my horses too.

My friend, I will.

Forgive me.

We'll never meet again.

Farewell, my dear.

Farewell.

Not going to see them off?

Let them go where they're going to.

No, it's, uh...

too difficult.

I'm gonna just...

turn - turn my hand to something.

They're gone.

Well, the professor must be thrilled.

God himself couldn't lure that man back here.

They're gone.

They've gone.

God grant them the best.

Well, Uncle, what shall we do?

- Work.
- Yes.

Absolutely!

What? A long while
since we've been here together.

I think the ink is gone.

Now they're gone, I'm sad.

- They're gone.
- All right.

First we'll start with the accounts.
They're in a wretched state.

A fellow wrote today and said
this is the third time he's asked for his balance.

So you take that one
and I'll take the next one, and so on.

Oh, this is for the account of -

In the stillness, pens are scratching.

The crickets chirp.

Warm.

Close.

You know, I don't feel like leaving somehow.

There are my horses.

I guess all that's left is my good-bye.
I'm off then.

- Stay a while.
- I can't.

- Doctor, your horses are here.
- Yes, I heard them. Thank you, Waffles.

Uh, would you put this in my carriage?
Exercise extreme care with this, please.

And the portfolio.

- Well -
- When will we see you again?

Ah, not before summer, I'd think.

Hardly this winter.
Of course, if you should need me.

- Thank you for your hospitality.
- Yes.

- For your kindness.
- Yes.

Thank you for everything.

Old one, farewell.

Mmm.

- You haven't had your tea.
- I don't want any.

- A little vodka?
- Perhaps a small one.

I've got my trace horse limping.
Don't know why.

I noticed it yesterday when he was coming up.

- He needs reshoeing.
- I'll stop by the farrier at Rozhdestvennoye.

- I would.
- No help for him.

You know, I would think down in Africa
the heat must be intense.

I think so.

- Here you are.
- Oh.

- To your health, little father.
- Thank you, Nanny.

- Eat some bread with it.
- Ah!

No, I don't want any, thank you.

Good-bye. All the best to you.

Good-bye.

February the 15th...

16 pounds vegetable oil.

February 20th...

five pounds buckwheat.

He's gone.

For a subtotal of 15.20.

- Twenty-five.

Mercy.

How hard this is for me.

You don't know how hard it is for me.
You can't know.

What can we do, Uncle?

All we can do is live.

We'll live through...

a long row of days...

and through the endless evenings.

And we'll bear up...

under the trials fate has sent to us.

We... will constantly toil for others...

now and for the rest of our days.

And when we come to die...

we'll die submissively.

Beyond the grave,
we will testify that we've suffered...

that we've wept...

that we've known bitterness.

And God will take pity on us...

you and I, Uncle.

God will take pity on us, and we will live...

a life of radiant joy...

and beauty.

And we'll look back on this life
of our unhappiness with tenderness.

And we'll smile.

And in that new life, we shall rest, Uncle.

I have faith.

We shall rest to the songs of the angels -

In a firmament arrayed in jewels,
and we'll look down...

and we'll see evil...

all the evil in the world...

and all our sufferings
bathed in a perfect mercy...

and our lives grown sweet as a caress.

I know you've had no joy in your life.

But just wait.

Only wait, Uncle.

We shall rest.