All language subtitles for The Sacrifice

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THE SACRIFICE

Come here and give me a hand, boy!

Once upon a time, long ago

an old monk lived
in an Orthodox monastery.

His name was Pamve.

And once he planted
a barren tree on a mountainside

just like this.

Then he told his young pupil,

a monk named Ioann Kolov,

that he should water the tree
each day until it came to life.

Put a few stones there, will you?

Anyway, early every morning

Ioann filled a dipper with water
and went out.

He climbed up the mountain
and watered the withered tree

and in the evening
when darkness had fallen

he returned to the monastery.

He did this for three years.

And one fine day,

he climbed up the mountain and saw

that the whole tree
was covered with blossoms!

Say what you will, but a method,
a system, has its virtues.

You know, sometimes I say to myself,

if every single day,

at exactly the same stroke of the clock,

one were to perform the same single act,

like a ritual,

unchanging, systematic,
every day at the same time,

the world would be changed.

Yes, something would change.

It would have to.

One could wake up
in the morning, let's say,

get up at exactly seven,

go to the bathroom,

pour a glass of water from the tap,

and flush it down the toilet. Only that!

I'll be hard to get rid of today!

Beautiful, eh?

Like Japanese Ikebana.

I will come to your house
to wish you well on your birthday.

I am very honored by the invitation!

Here's the last of it.

The post office is closed.

Anyone who turns up now
will just have to wait till tomorrow.

Here!

I don't have my glasses. Please read it.

"Happy Birthday, dear friend STOP.

Mighty Richard greets
good Prince Myshkin STOP.

God grant you joy, health and peace STOP.

From your loyal and loving

Richardians and Idiotists STOP."

Oh, how touching!

A joke.

Friends, and their jokes!

"Idiotists..." That's not half bad.

"God grant you joy..."
Say, how is your relationship to God?

Non-existent, I'm afraid.
What do you mean?

It could be worse.

Here you are...

a famous journalist,

a theatrical and literary critic,

who lectures on aesthetics
for students at the university.

Hey, your lasso! Run and fetch it!

And essays...

you write them too.

But you're so gloomy!

What's that supposed to mean, "gloomy"?

Well, you shouldn't grieve so much.

You shouldn't yearn so for something.

You shouldn't be waiting like that.
That's important.

One shouldn't be waiting for something.

"Shouldn't be waiting"?
Who says I'm waiting for anything?

We all are...

waiting for something!

Take me, for example.

All my life I've been going around
waiting for something.

All my life, in fact, I've felt as if...

as if I were waiting in a railway station.

And I've always felt as if...

as if the living I've done, so far,
hasn't actually been real life

but a long wait for it...

a long wait for something real,

something important! What about you?

Yes, if that’s what you mean.

I just never knew you were interested
in that kind of problem.

But I am!

I most certainly am! Unfortunately.

Sometimes I get the most peculiar notions.

Yes, I mean it.

Like that dwarf, for example.

That notorious dwarf!

What dwarf?

Look here, you've managed
to muddle me up completely!

Oh, you know who I mean.
That hunchback!

Eh? The one Nietzsche mentioned.

The one who made Zarathustra faint.

Faint? What are you talking about?

I say, do you know Nietzsche?

No, not personally.

I haven't really studied him
all that carefully.

However...

he interests me, I can't deny it.

So?

Sometimes I get silly things in my head,
things like this "eternal recurrence."

We live, we have our ups and downs.

We hope.

We wait for something.

We hope, we lose hope,
we move closer to death.

Finally, we die

and are born again.
But we remember nothing.

And everything begins again,
from scratch.

Not literally the same way,

just a wee, wee bit different.

But it's still so hopeless

and we don't know why.

Yes...

No, I mean.

Really, it's quite the same,

literally, the same.

Just the next performance, so to speak.

If I'd made it all, I guess I'd have
done things the same way.

Funny, eh?

But I've heard all that,
it's nothing new.

You didn't invent it!

Do you really think that mankind
could devise a universal concept,

a model, so to speak,

of Absolute Law, of Absolute Truth?

Why, it'd be like trying
to create a new universe!

To be a demiurge!

And you actually believe in your dwarf,
do you? In your "recurrence"?

Yes...

Sometimes I do...

You understand?

If I truly believe,

it will be so.

"Believe that it hath been given

and it shall be given unto you."

But now I think I'll head home.
It's late, I must think of a gift.

You needn't do that.

This is a very important day!

You'll be buried in telegrams!

Au revoir!

What?

What are you mumbling about?

In the beginning was the Word.

But you are mute, mute as a fish.

A little smelt.

Look here, my boy, we've lost our way.

Humanity is also on the wrong road,
a dangerous road.

So, up you go!
Dear, how heavy you are.

The first impression that Man had...

How has he been lately? All right?

Yes.

In what way? He works a lot.

I don't like his monologues.

Alexander!

Doctor! Wait, we'll come to you.

You're not equipped
for a jaunt through Africa.

It's quite a job, you know.

- Hello.
- Hello! Welcome.

- Many happy returns.
- Thanks, thanks.

And you, young man, how are you?

Isn't it hard to keep silent?

I can well imagine.
But it's good for you.

Sociability is a burden.

Not all of us can bear it.

- My brave boy.
- Why "my"? He's "ours," after all.

He gargles and goes to bed by himself.

Gargles? That's nothing!

Think how well he behaved
during the operation.

He's got the makings of a real man!

Open wide, now.

It looks fine. Keep that up
and you'll be talking in a week.

By the way, did you know

that Gandhi had one day in the week
when he spoke to no one?

- It was his system.
- Why?

He was probably tired of people.

Shall we walk here?

You've deserted your patients.

And what elegance!

On a day like this,
one has to live up to expectations.

Your present's in the trunk.

Still more presents!

- It's time we went home.
- Yes, all of us.

But why don't you two take the car?
We'll follow on foot.

We must finish our chat.
Right, my boy?

Please don't be too late.

All right, little man?

Everything's almost ready.

Have I told you how your mother
and I found this place?

We came here on a trip once.
You weren't even thought of then.

It was the first time we were here.

We had no map with us,
we forgot to bring one.

Besides, we'd run out of gas.

We stopped somewhere near here,
then we kept going on foot.

Frankly, we were lost.

Then it started raining,
a cold, ugly drizzle.

We came to that bend over there,
by that dry old pine tree

and just then, the sun came out.

It stopped raining.

The light was dazzling!

Then we saw the house.

Suddenly I was sad that I didn't...

I mean, that we didn't live there

in that house under the pines,
so close to the sea.

How beautiful it was!

I knew that if I lived there,
I'd be happy until I died.

Hmm? What's wrong?

Don't be afraid.
There is no such thing as death.

No, there's the fear of death,
and that is an awful fear.

Sometimes it even makes people
do things they shouldn't.

But how different things would be

if only we could stop fearing death!

Huh? Oh, I was talking
about something else... Ah, yes.

As I was saying, we were enchanted
as we took in the beauty of it.

We couldn't tear ourselves away.

The peace, the stillness...

And...

it was plain that this house

was meant just for us.

It turned out to be for sale, too.
What a miracle!

And you were born in this house.

Do you like it?

Do you like your house?
Eh, my boy?

Man has defended himself, always

against other men, against nature.

He has constantly violated nature.

The result is a civilization built on force,
power, fear, dependence.

All our "technical progress"

has only provided us with comfort,
a sort of standard.

And instruments of violence
for keeping power.

We are like savages!

We use the microscope like a cudgel!

No, that's wrong...

savages are more spiritual than we!

As soon as we make
a scientific breakthrough

we put it to use in the service of evil.

And as for standard,
some wise man once said that sin

is that which is unnecessary.

If that is so,
then our entire civilization

is built on sin, from beginning to end.

We have acquired a dreadful disharmony,

an imbalance, if you will,

between our material
and our spiritual development.

Our culture is defective.

I mean, our civilization.
Basically defective, my boy!

Perhaps you mean that
we ought to study the problem

and look for a solution together.

Perhaps we could, if it wasn't so late.

Altogether too late.

God, how weary I am of this talk!

"Words, words, words!"

At last I know what Hamlet meant.

He was fed up with windbags.

And so am I! Why do I talk this way?

If only someone could stop talking

and do something instead!

Or at least, try to.

Little Man!

Little Man!

Dear God, what's wrong with me?

Fantastic!

Such remarkable refinement!

Such wisdom and spirituality.

And such pure childlike innocence as well.

At once profound, yet virginal.

It's unbelievable.

Like a prayer.

And all this has been lost.
We can't even pray any longer.

I had a rotten day today.

Or rather, a day I lost control of.

Thank you, Victor.

A splendid book!

Thanks for the wine too.
We'll have it later.

Above all, thanks for coming.

Have you...

never felt that your life was a failure?

No. Why?

I once felt exactly that way.

But since Little Man came along,
all that has changed.

Not all at once, of course.

A bit at a time as he grew bigger.

I'm very attached to him,

too much, I'm afraid.

But there is something
in all this that I resent.

I prepared myself for a life,

a higher life, so to speak.

I studied philosophy,
the history of religion, aesthetics.

And I ended up putting myself in chains,

of my own free will.

But at the same time, I'm happy.

Today, for example...

What happened today?

I got a telegram from my friends.

As a joke they signed it:

"Richardians and Idiotists".

Old theater friends.
We played Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky.

- I remember.
- No.

- Remember what?
- Those performances.

- Oh, come now.
- Yes, I do!

I remember how you dropped
that vase from the tray and broke it.

And your eyes were full of tears.

I remember it well.

The vase, too.

It was white, with blue flowers.

That's right!
She does remember.

But those tears meant nothing.
I had something in my eye.

It hurt so, I didn't think
I'd get through the performance.

Alexander was superb as Prince Myshkin.

That role made you.

And then you just gave it all up.

The theater, the lot.

You threw away everything
after Richard III and The Idiot.

I don't know why.

- What "everything"?
- Hmm?

What do you mean by "everything"?

The theater.

Everything!

"Success," that's what you mean!

As it happens, theater isn't "everything."

I couldn't take it anymore.

What do you mean?

Well...

For some reason, I started feeling
embarrassed onstage.

I was ashamed to impersonate
someone else, to play another's emotions.

But worst of all, I was ashamed
of being honest onstage.

It was a critic who first saw that.

But it wasn't sudden, not at all.

So you mean that an actor
may not keep his ego intact?

That he must lose his identity?

No, not quite.

What I mean is that an actor's identity
dissolves in his roles.

I didn't want my ego dissolved.

There was something in it
that struck me as sinful

something feminine and weak.

Aha! Feminine!
So that's what's sinful.

I liked you as an actor,
so you quit. That's it!

- I don't know. That might be it.
- No, that was it!

I said it might be.

Always the last word!

She'll be his death!

Please, not today.

It's Alexander's birthday.

Thanks for defending me, Victor.

In other words,
first he seduced me with his acting.

Then he lured me from London
and abandoned me!

But I liked being the great actor's wife.

Forgive me, but I saw no harm in it.

Who's that, now?

By the way, Alexander,
I'll soon be leaving.

Leaving?

Leaving all this.

Has something happened?

I've been offered a clinic in Australia.

Are you serious?

You must tell me about it later.

It's Otto, the postman.
He's carrying something.

Julia!

Your beau's come calling!

Good evening!

- Many happy returns!
- Thanks.

Here I am, and here's
a kind of present for you.

Thank you very much. What is it?

I don't think I can do this alone.

It's a map of Europe, from the late 1600's.

Is it genuine?

How could it be?
It must be a copy, a reproduction.

No, not at all!
It's genuine, an original.

- How could anyone...
- Is it possible?

How beautiful it is!
We must take it inside.

Come, now.

But it's far too dear a gift.
I don't know if I...

Oh God, don't say that!

But it's far too much.
Too much, Otto!

I know it's no sacrifice, but...

And why shouldn't it be?
Of course it's a sacrifice!

Every gift involves a sacrifice.

If not, what kind of gift would it be?

Excuse me...

Otto. My name is Otto.

Oh.

Excuse me, Otto.

What are you doing in these parts?

I hear you haven't lived here long.

Smoke?

Once I went to the morgue
and saw the autopsied corpse...

of a man who had smoked all his life.
I saw his lungs.

I haven't smoked since.

Hear that, Alexander?

Yes, you're completely right.

I've only lived here two months.

Before then, I taught history
at a secondary school.

But when I was pensioned,
I moved here.

And here I am.

Nowadays I have fewer expenses,
and more time left over for my interests.

My sister used to live here.
She's dead now.

I understand you're employed
by the post office.

Yes, I'm a postman.

But not regularly.
Only in my spare time.

Hello, Maria!

I've put everything in order,
Mrs. Adelaide. Can I go now?

Yes, yes, Maria. Thank you.

Oh, yes! Do you think
you might just warm the plates?

Julia can do the rest.

Yes, Mrs. Adelaide.

I'll put the plates to warm at once.

I'll warm the plates.

Then can I go?
Is there something more?

No, no! You may go.

Julia's still here.

Oh, one more thing!

Would you put the candles on the table?

Then you may go...

You have opened the wine,
haven't you?

Well, open it.

Then you won't be needed.

The plates, the candles, the wine.

We're neighbors, she and I.

We're acquainted.

Indeed? Congratulations.

She came from Iceland a few years ago.

Really?

She is very odd.

Who?

Maria.

Yes, Maria.

Sometimes she scares me.

It must've been lovely when men
thought the world looked like this!

This Europe looks more like Mars.

That is, it has nothing to do with truth.

No.

But people lived then.

And not badly, either.

But wait, what's the date...

...today?

1392...

It's best we put the map away now.

Otto, will you help me?

I have a feeling that our maps
have nothing to do with truth, either.

What truth?

You keep going on about truth.

- Truth! What is truth?
- There's no such thing.

We look, but don't see.
Here comes a cockroach...

A cockroach!?

Par example, madame!
Excusez-moi!

Here comes a cockroach
running 'round a plate.

He fancies that he's moving forward
with a definite purpose.

How do you know
what a cockroach thinks?

It could be a ritual.

- Yes!
- His own.

Aha. "Could be."

Anything could be.

"Could be"!

Otherwise all we're left with
is this "truth," "truth."

- Can I help?
- No, that's fine.

Let's put it there, Otto.

A fantastic map!

I'm glad you think so.
It's a first-class chart.

Where's Little Man?
Where's the boy?

I don't know.
He was here just a moment ago.

- Shall I look?
- No, no.

He seemed down, to me.

- Something wrong?
- I'll be right back.

Dinner's ready.

You said you had more time
for your interests...

What'd you mean?

Huh?

Take it easy.

He's around here.

- I'm sort of a collector.
- Are you?

What do you mean, "sort of"?

How shall I put it?
I collect incidents.

Things that are unexplainable but true.

I need a lot of time, though,
to gather evidence that they're true.

I need to travel, too,
and I need money for it.

That's why I'm a postman... as well.

Unexplainable?

Little Man should be here.
He loves stories like this.

Does he, indeed?

But still...

I don't really understand.

Well, for example...

No, not that one.

How about this one...

It happened before the war.

In Königsberg, a widow
was living with her son.

But then war broke out,
and the boy was drafted.

He was 18 years old.

They decided to see a photographer
and have a keepsake photo taken.

The mother and her son
were photographed together.

Then the boy...

the boy was sent off...

to the front.

A few days later, he was killed.

Good Lord!

In the midst of all
the commotion and calamity

the widow, of course,
forgot about the photos.

"Of course"?
Why, how could she forget such a thing?

- It's not important.
- No, it's not very important at all.

The fact is, this woman
never fetched the photographs.

The war ended. She moved to another town
far from her memories.

But didn't she even try
to find the photographer?

It was her last photo of her son!

But do let him make his point.

Sorry.

- Mommy...!
- I'll be quiet. Sorry.

It doesn't matter.

Some years later...

I think it was in 1960...

the widow visited a photographer

to have her photo taken.
She intended to give it to a friend.

The photo was taken,
but when she got the prints

she saw not only herself on them,

but her dead son, too.

In the photos, he was 18

and she was as old as she was
when these last photos were taken.

Did it happen like that?

Just as you told us?

Yes. That's how it happened.

How did you check it?

I've spoken with the woman.

And I have the photo

showing her in 1960
and her son in a 1940 uniform.

Oh, dear God!

And besides...

I have a copy of his birth certificate

and an official copy
of the notice of death.

Are you pulling our leg?

No, by no means!

I have about 300 similar incidents.

284, to be exact.

We are blind, simply.

We see nothing.

What was that? What do you think?

Are you ill?

No...

nothing's wrong.

It was only an evil angel passing by,
who saw fit to touch me.

And you see fit to joke with us, eh?
Mr. Postman?

There are jokes
and then there are jokes, Doctor.

There's nothing to joke about here.

"Which of you have done this?"

"The Lords...?"

Maria!

Who made that?

Little Man.

Little Man, really?

- Where is he?
- He's upstairs.

I think he's in his room.

That's good.

But what is it?

He made it for you.

It's his birthday present to you.

It was he and Otto, the postman,
who built it together.

Don't say that I told you,
Mr. Alexander.

He wanted to show it off himself.

I'll go now.

Happy birthday.

Go home now!

It's so damp out.

- May I come in?
- Yes, come in.

Oh, it's you. Come in!

Things are almost ready downstairs.

What on earth is that?

What's what?

The picture, there.

On the wall, what is it?

I can't see clearly.
It's behind a glass. And it's so dark.

It’s the Adoration of the Three Kings

by Leonardo.

A reproduction, of course.

My God, how sinister it is!

I've always been terrified of Leonardo.

...are now being organized nationwide...

This is even the duty
of all officers of the army.

Every responsible citizen...

is expected to behave with courage...

to keep a cool head...

and to help the army...

in its efforts to re-establish peace,

order, and discipline.

The only dangerous enemy
in our midst at the moment,

is panic.

It is contagious,

and won't allow itself to be ruled
by common sense.

Order and organization...

and nothing less, good citizens.

Only order... order...

against this chaos.

I beg you, I humbly appeal

to your courage and...

in spite of all...

to your common sense.

Shall we eat? And wake the boy?

We have here,
unfortunately, such a base...

with four missile warheads.

And it is very likely...

that these warheads,
tragically enough...

What's this?

...will be used against us.

Communications
may be broken at any time...

but I have told you
what is most important...

...my fellow citizens.

You are to stay where you are.

There is no place in all of Europe

that is safer

than where we are now.

In this regard,

we are all forced into the same situation.

All districts will be under the control

of special military units...

so that... so that...

Surely this isn't...

Shouldn't one do something?

I've waited for this all my life.

My whole life has been
one long wait, for this.

Don't touch me! Do something!

You men!
Why don't you say something?

Can't we do something?

Mama, please calm down!

My God!

Victor!

At least you could do something!

Please!

Shh! The boy is asleep.

He mustn't be awakened.

It's all my fault!

This is my punishment!

The boy's sleeping.

Don't wake him.

- Little Man! Where is he?
- He's sleeping.

Julia! Go get Little Man!

Alexander, don't you even understand?

Julia!

Fetch the black bag by the piano.

Maybe later.

Oh, God!

Put it on the table!

Alexander!

I can't bear it anymore!

Please, please!

Julia, do you need one, too?

No, I don't want it! It's not necessary.

Yes, it is.

It's absolutely necessary.

And it's completely harmless.

It will be easier
for all of us if you take it.

No! I don't want to!

- And you, Alexander?
- No, I'll have a drink instead.

Just don't drink too much.

It'll only make it worse.

Otto?

Oh no, don't worry.

Thanks, but I don't need it.

Julia?

We must go up to the boy.
He's not to wake up now!

I'll go with you.

Julia can stay with Mama.

Sleep now, sleep.

We'll be right back.

It's dead.

The telephone's dead.

Oh, dear God...

Why do we always do
the opposite of what we want?

Always!

I have loved one man...

and married another.

Why?

Would you like something to drink?

No, no.

Nothing. Thanks, Otto.

No.

I think I know, now.

We simply don't want
to depend on anyone.

When two people love each other,

they don't love in the same way.

One of them is strong,

the other, weaker.

And the weaker is always the one
who loves without reckoning...

without reservation.

It feels now as if I've awakened

from some kind of dream...

after some other kind of life.

For some reason,
I always offered resistance.

I fought against something.

I defended myself,

just as though I'd had...

someone else inside me, saying:

Don't give in to anything...

don't go along with...

anything...

...or you’ll die!

But God, how foolish we are anyway!

That's good.

It's good that you finally understood that.

How do you feel?

- Better now?
- Yes.

I've finally understood,

even though it's a bit late.

But what shall we do now?

The telephone isn't working, of course.

We could get into the car
and drive north,

where it's quieter...

But it's no use.

No. It's the same everywhere.

And no one knows where it's worst.

No, no! We'll stay here.

There, there...

Easy, easy...

We won't go anywhere!

We're staying here!

Victor!

And now...

Now we shall eat dinner.

Excuse me, but I must go now.

I have a few things to put in order.

What will you do, Martha?

Julia.

Go wake Little Man!

Today is a very special day.

We must be together.

Please stop it!

Julia, did you hear me?

- It's best not to wake him.
-Julia!

I'm not going to wake him.

I have no intention of doing it.

And I won't allow anyone else to, either.

He's asleep now,
and we mustn't wake him,

or frighten him.

A lot can happen while he's sleeping.

If God wills it,
he'll never know what's happened.

Don't scare him!

Please, I beg you!

If you have to torture someone,
let it be Mr. Alexander.

Or me, for that matter.

Choose whom you will,
since you can't do otherwise.

But I will not allow you
to torture the boy.

My dear girl...

My poor, dear girl...

Forgive me.

Our Father, Who...

Our Father, Who art in Heaven...

hallowed be Thy Name.

Thy Kingdom come...

Thy will be done...

Give us this day our daily bread...

And deliver us from evil.

For Thine is the Kingdom...

and the Power...

and the Glory.

Amen.

Lord!

Deliver us in this terrible time.

Don't let my children die,

nor my friends...

my wife...

Victor...

all those who love Thee
and believe in Thee...

All those who do not believe in Thee,
because they are blind...

those who haven't given Thee a thought...

simply because they haven't yet
been truly miserable.

All those who in this hour
have lost their hope, their future...

their lives...

and the opportunity
to surrender to Thy will.

All those who are filled with dread

who feel the end coming closer...

who fear, not for themselves,
but for their loved ones.

All those whom no one,

except Thou, can offer protection.

Because this war is the ultimate war

a horrible thing.

And after it, there will be
no victors and no vanquished...

no cities or towns, grass or trees,

water in the wells,

or birds in the sky.

I will give Thee all I have.

I'll give up my family, whom I love.

I'll destroy my home,

and give up Little Man.

I'll be mute, and never speak
another word to anyone.

I will relinquish everything
that binds me to life...

if only Thou dost restore
everything as it was before...

as it was this morning and yesterday

Just let me be rid of...

this deadly...

sickening, animal fear!

Yes, everything!

Lord!

Help me...

I will do everything I have promised Thee.

Come here, Victor.

Help me!

My boy!

- What is it?
- Sorry to get you up.

- Were you asleep?
- What is it? What's happened?

There's still one last chance!

A chance? What kind of chance?

A chance. One last hope.

What kind of hope?
What's the matter with you?

Nothing's the matter with me.
But Maria can do it. Maria!

Maria?

Which Maria? Do what?

You must go to her and convince her.

Do you understand?

Where must I go?

Whom must I convince?

Come in, have a drink.
I had one and I feel better.

There's no light anymore.

How long have I slept?

You shouldn't drink that by the glassful.

It's very good cognac, that.

Where is everybody?

Are they sleeping?

They're downstairs,
sitting 'round the table.

- They're very fond of you.
- Sitting 'round what table?

You must go to Maria at once!

Which Maria?

Can't you express yourself more clearly?

Maria, you know her!
One of your servant girls.

Yes, yes, yes!

I'll explain later.
Don't rush me!

Who's rushing you, for God's sake!

Why do you always
have to beat around the bush?

She lives...

on a farm on the other side of the bay.

Behind the church.

It's closed now.

Who?

"Who"?

I'm not talking about "who."
I mean the church.

But I asked who lives there.

What's the church got to do with it?

Who lives there?
Why, Maria, of course.

Your servant. I've been trying
to tell you that for half an hour!

Can't you pay more attention!

This is very important.

Pay attention? I...

I know where she lives.
My wife showed me.

Oh, I think that... I...

Yes, it's quite all right.

It's all right, believe me.

I'll sit here by you.

What was it you said
about the servant?

Oh, yes, your servant girl...

- Did you hear?
- Hear what?

What was that?

I don't know... I don't know.

I thought it sounded like music.

In any case, you must go to Maria!

But why?

Don't you want all of this
to be over and done with?

For what to be done with?

Everything!

The whole lot!

God, Otto!

There is an end to this.

Otto!

Yes.

You must go to Maria and lie with her.

What?

I say, you must go and lie with Maria!

Lie with Maria?

It's very simple. She lives alone.

And if you only wish
for one thing at that moment:

That all this will be over,
then it will be!

There'll be no more of it!

But that's madness, Otto!

Good God, Otto.

You don't understand a thing.

It's true!

It's a holy truth.

She has very special qualities, you know.

I've gathered evidence. She is a witch!

In what sense?

In the best sense.

Are you joking again?

Still having me on
with your Nietzschean pranks?

Is there any other way out?

There is no other alternative.

None, whatsoever.

What alternative, Otto? What alternative?

What are you talking about?

It's best if I go now.

I've left the bike for you...

down there by the shed.

Don't take the car, they'll hear you.

I've put a ladder against the balcony.

Go to Maria...

but be careful!

There are a couple of broken spokes
in the front wheel.

I once caught my pants-leg in them.

I almost fell in the water.

- What pants-leg?
- The right one.

Be careful!

Have you finally understood
what I told you?

Do you hear what I'm saying?

Yes, what about it?

No... never!

Anyway, I prefer Piero della Francesca!

As I understood Alexander's words,
he meant

that it is peculiar for a man

to change, of his own free will,
into a work of art.

Generally,
the result of all poetic striving

lies so far from its author
that one can hardly believe

that it is a man-made creation.

In the case of the actor,
though, the reverse is true.

The actor is, himself,
his own creation, his own work of art.

Excuse me.

- I'll be right back.
- Don't stay long.

How much gas do we have left?

Will it last?

I don't know. I'll see.

They brought new tanks last week.
Don't you remember?

Julia! Come here to us.

- Who is it?
- It's me.

Mr. Alexander?

Has something happened?

But why stand there? Come in.

It was only by chance
that I heard you knock.

The kerosene gave out,
so I got up to fill the lamp.

Has something happened?

Why don't you say anything?

What is it? Is it something at home?

Something's happened at your house again.

Is that it?

But don't you...

don't you have a TV?

Yes, a small one. But...

it went dead about 11:00,
and didn't come on again.

What...

What's happened to your hands?

I fell off the bike.

Did you come on a bike?

Yes, I did. I fell.

Come!

You mustn't go about with dirty hands.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

As a child, I played this prelude.

My mother loved it.

Years ago,

before I was married,

I often went to visit my mother...
in the country.

She was still alive in those days.

Her house, a little cottage,

was surrounded by a garden...

a little garden,

dreadfully neglected and overgrown.

No one had tended it for many years

and I don't think...

anyone had ever been in it.

Even then, my mother was very ill.

She almost never left the house.

Still,

amidst the ruin of the garden

there was something
that was, in its way, beautiful.

Yes, now I know what it was.

When the weather was fine...

she often sat at the window...

looking out at the garden.

She even had a special chair
by the window.

Once, though, I decided
that I would tidy things up...

in the garden, that is.

I wanted to mow the grass,
burn the weeds, prune the trees.

On the whole,

I wanted to redo the garden
in my own taste...

with my own hands.

Yes, simply to please my mother.

And for two solid weeks...

I went at it with shears and a scythe.

I dug...

and cut...

and sawed...

and weeded...

I kept my nose to the ground, literally.

And I took great pains
to get it ready as soon as possible.

My mother's condition grew worse,

and she kept to her bed.

But I wanted her to be able...

to sit by the window

and see...

her new garden.

In short,

when I was finished
and everything was ready...

I took a bath...

put on fresh underwear,
a new jacket, even a tie.

Then I sat down in the chair
to see what I'd made,

through her eyes, as it were.

I...

I sat there...

and looked out through the window.

I had prepared myself to enjoy the sight.

Anyway, I looked out the window
and saw...

What did I see?

Where had all the beauty gone?

The naturalness of it?

It was so disgusting.

All that evidence of violence!

I remember once
when my sister was young.

She went to a barber and had her hair cut.
It was the fashion then.

Her hair was unbelievably lovely.

Golden yellow, like Lady Godiva's.

She came home pleased as punch.

Then my father saw her.

He began to cry.

I think it was the same with the garden.

And your mother?

It's three o'clock!

We won't have time...

But your mother... did she see it?

Maria...

My being here must be
an imposition on you.

You can't sleep.

What do you mean?

What do you mean?

Could you...

Could you love me, Maria?

What are you saying?

Love me, I beg you!

Save me.

Save us all!

I know who you are.
He... He told me!

Please, please.

Save us, I beg you!

What are you talking about?

Go home now.

Do you want me to go with you?

I... I have a bicycle, too.

Don't kill us.

Save us, Maria.

But why?

You poor, poor man.

Why? No, not that way!

You poor man.

Don't be afraid. What's wrong?

Who has frightened you so?
Calm down, calm down.

I understand, I know...

that it concerns your home.

I know her, she is wicked.

I know her. They've hurt you...

frightened you.

Don't be afraid of anything.

Everything's going to be all right.

Be calm.

Don't be afraid, not of anything.

It's all right now, all right.

You poor, poor man.

There, there.

There's nothing to fear.

Don't be afraid.

Nothing will happen to you here.

Don't cry, don't cry.

Everything will be fine.

-Just love me.
- Yes.

My poor dear.

What have they done to you?

There, there...

No... no.

What is it?

- Calm down!
- No, no!

I c-c-can't!

I can't!

Drink this.

No.

There...

It'll soon be over.

What's frightened you so, Alexander?

Mama!

Hello!

Hello, is it Martin?

Yes. Alexander?

Yes, it's me.

Your voice is so weak.

Oh. Better now?

- Yes, it's better.
- I wonder, is the editor in?

Yes, but I don't think he's free.

You can't imagine
what things are like here today.

You were to see him next week.

Yes, but it wasn't important.
A trifle... it doesn't matter.

I'll call back.

All right, until then.
By the way, congratulations!

On what? Oh, of course!

Mama, did you know that
our Victor is leaving for Australia?

What'd you say? To Australia?

Yes, and he's not coming back.
He's been offered his own clinic.

I heard it last night.

Right, Victor?

- Why are you laughing?
- I'm not laughing!

When did you decide that?

Australia!

You must be mad!

I don't know why I chose Australia.

I don't know.

It doesn't matter.

I'm tired, that's all.

All right!
But what's to become of us?

Of Alexander?

The fact is, what I'm most tired of
is the lot of you.

Tired of being your nursemaid.

Your nursemaid and your warden.

Tired of wiping your noses.

Victor, are you mad?

Pardon.

What are you saying?

May I smoke?

Martha, go away! Go, go, go!

Go, go, go!

God, Mama, I'm not a child!

Call your father to breakfast!

- But...
- Is it too much to ask?

All right, I'll go.

Oh, her ways!

So calculating.

I won't let you go, Victor!

I don't know about Mama,
but I won't let you go!

Something's wrong here
and I'm fed up with it.

Yes. You can forget about me,
and Martha, and the boy...

But Alexander is your friend!

He'll always be.

But he needs you!

He has a wife to take care of him.

She ought to, anyway.

He has a family, a splendid house...

- and a son he adores.
- Fine and dandy!

Julia!

Fetch your mistress' jacket! She's cold!

So thoughtful!

Little Man. Where is he?

Look, he's left this note!

What's it say?

"My dears: I've slept badly this night.
Please don't wake me.

Go and take a little walk.

The boy will show you his Japanese tree
that we planted yesterday.

Or was it today?
I don't remember, it matters not.

I kiss you all.

I've taken my pills.

Forgive me, even now.

June 19, 1985.

10:07 a.m. Papa A."

Shall we take a walk,
before the weather changes?

"Forgive me, even now"...
What did he mean by that?

And why the exact time?

Mama, you know how he is.

"How he is..."

I think that "his" kindness

would be enough to see us all through.

But he'll be around longer than that.

"How he is!"

What'd I say wrong?

Have you enough kindness left for "him"?

All right, Victor.
But why must he be such a child?

Maybe I want to be a child as well!

We all want something.
I, for one, want to go to Australia.

Well, gather the ashes.

Put them in a glass,
fill it with wine, and drink it.

- Why?
- Don't ask me.

Someone said so.

If you do, you'll remember this
the rest of your life.

Come, let's go.

Julia, come with us!

Fetch the boy and we'll go.

I had a dream recently.

I was walking the streets, begging.

When I woke, I cried and cried.

The boy's not there!

He's already gone out.

I think I know where.

To the Japanese tree?

He and the boy are just crazy
about their Japan.

Why just Japan?

First it's Australia, then Japan.

God, I can't take much more of this!

What about this morning?
I turned on his music...

But he didn't fancy his Japanese.
He shut it off.

He says he and the boy
were Japanese in an earlier life.

I wish someone would tell him
what to make of this life.

Maybe that springs
from a deep inner need.

Maybe it's easier for him so.

Why can't I find an easier way?

Can't you?

You seem to have all sorts
of schemes to that end.

But nothing quite
so far-fetched as Australia.

My God, what is all that nonsense about?

Australia! It's absurd!

Flowers!

I don't understand.

What've I done with them?
Where are they?

Alexander!

What's happened?

I did it. Don't be upset!
Listen to me, Victor.

I've got something very impor-

No! Silence!

Say nothing! Ask nothing!

Come, Alexander!
You can't stay here!

Come, now.

Let him be!
What are you doing to him?

Don't touch him!

See you, Alexander!

In the beginning was the Word.

Why is that, Papa?

This film is dedicated to my son Andriosha

with hope and confidence
Andrei Tarkovsky

English Translation by Susanne Heine

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