Original subtitles

- Surname? - Magomedov.

- First name? - Bahadur.

How old are you?

- 13. - 13...

- You're not mixing something up? - No.

We consider a child's birthday not the day he first appears on the earth,

but rather, the day he sits down alongside his master at the workbench.

It's you who wrote the work "Necklace for My Beloved"?

Yes.

And why did you sign it with the false name "Putnik"?

- Well, it's my literary pseudonym. - What?

- Pseudonym. - Pseudonym?

Write it down - pseudonym.

Okay. Now tell us, where is that villain

who you described in your story? Where does he live?

What does he do?

Take the paper and write it all, and you can go free.

But I made him up.

- What? How? - It's... the product of my imagination.

- So you made it all up? - Yes.

That's great. And we spent a whole month looking for that scoundrel.

The investigation speaks to that! Searched the whole USSR! For nothing!

Seems it's all your imagination! Well!

Alright, Magomedov. You're clearly not dumb,

but I need to give you some advice.

From now on, write straight and true!

Without any fabrications or pseudonyms.

Then you can serve a purpose, serve justice!

And what results? Art for art's sake!

- Am I right? - You're right.

- Am I right? - You're right.

- Am I right? - Naturally.

NECKLACE FOR MY BELOVED

A work for film

Wise Hasbulat, may his name be praised through the centuries,

loves to say, time and again: "Nothing happens without beginning,

and everything begins from the road."

And so I was born on this dusty road,

which for countless centuries has lead towards our Georgia

and which, for some, is becoming impassible.

And they call me by the name Bahadur.

The wisest of the wise gave me this name,

the most ancient old man of our aul: Hasbulat.

Son of Alibulat, from the family Temirbulat.

There should always be smoke above the head of a man.

Be it tobacco or gunpowder.

Otherwise, what sort of man is he?

This is the gudekan.

Do you know what that is, by chance?

The gudekan is the place on the aul's main square

where all our esteemed elders gather

and wisdom flows like a river.

By the way, guys, I've been thinking on this for a while.

What do you think, what came first: the tree, or the fruit?

- The fruit, of course! - Why?

Because the tree grows from its seed.

- No. The tree appeared earlier. - And why?

Because only it yields the fruit

from whose seeds the trees grow.

And all the same it is the fruit

from whose seeds the trees grow.

Right?

And all the same it is the tree that itself yields the fruit!

- The fruit, I'm telling you, the fruit! - I won't have it. The tree!

You've gone mad! Where've you seen fruit without a tree?

- And you've seen a tree? - What kind of tree?

Without fruit.

- Well... well... - Well what?

- And what's a tree? - What kind of tree?

- I'm saying, that the tree... - What are you saying?

- The tr... - Well? Stubborn as a mule.

At the market you'll find as much fruit as you want.

- I'll hit you - mule! - Sit down.

- The fruit. - The tree.

- Fruit. Fruit. Fruit. Fruit. - Tree. Tree.

Settle our dispute, esteemed Hasbulat.

Son of Alibulat from the family Temirbulat.

The fruit, of course.

Duldurum is my uncle, though... he's more than an uncle to me.

After my father died, he raised me, made a silversmith out of me.

Dare I say... is my uncle not hurrying home to us as I speak?

Well, of course.

15 years I've held out.

15!

And you said you'd marry me

as soon as that oaf of yours finds joy.

- He's found it! Let him marry! - I don't want to.

Well! You don't want him to marry Serminaz so badly

because she's from the Mungi family.

But why do you despise them?

You don't know? Our ancestors...

In order to hate a man, should you not you at least know why?

- Do you agree with me? - No.

But why? Why?

Because the memory of our ancestors is sacred.

And one cannot question their deeds?

- It's blashphemy. - Let it be!

Let it be blasphemy, but I want to know!

To know! Why I should despise another man.

One perhaps no less worthy.

What an idiot I am. I believed you

when you told me to wait for your son's wedding.

- Wait, then. - I've already waited 15 years!

And it seems I'll wait 15 more,

if I don't insist on the marriage.

- To Serminaz? - To Satan, if no one else!

- Villain. They still haven't arrested you?

- Get out. - It's you, good-for-nothing!

You just wait there... Where's the broom?

Where's the broom? Villain!

Let me go! Let me go! He brings shame on us all!

- Aisha, Aisha... - You miserable monkey!

It's too early for you to pick a bride!

I'll be unworthy of a shawl if I don't beat this nonsense out of you.

- The neighbors are on the roofs. - That you would go blind, deaf...

Wither, like moss! Vanish, like death!

Let your shameless tongue turn to stone,

- before you confess your love to her! - Listen, the shutters are shaking!

Let everything in the world shake!

- I did not ask for such shame from him. - Enough!

What happened, neighbor? Did your cow die, or what?

You rejoice too early, neighbor,

I led my cow to the flock this morning.

- Yes, yes... - Go away!

Then what happened? Is your oaf getting married, or what?

- And to whom? - It's none of your business to whom.

None of your business. So be quiet! Oh Baba Yaga...

Hey, Mitsaday, what's befallen your neighbor?

They say her oaf's tangled up with Serminaz.

It can't be!

How, when I heard it with my own ears!

What I heard is what I say!

So she's not a maiden? She's married before?

Before they sat such types backwards on an ass and led them through the aul

for show, throwing stones.

Hey you, writer! Climb down, there's something I should tell you.

Listen, did you throw an astrakhan in her window?

- What astrakhan? - Eh, you... ass! I thought as much.

A true dzhigit should wear an astrakhan,

and not that "aeroport" you've got on.

- You yourself brought it from Tbilisi. - Who, me? Ah... That's not important.

So... A true dzhigit should wear a astrakhan.

And throw it to a girl through the window.

It's a sign that you're confessing your love to her,

that you're ready to propose!

At your age I'd sent fifteen hats flying through different windows.

And all from gray Bukhara fur!

Well, what came of it?

What came of it? Nothing, but... You dolt!

None of your business! Climb down! Down!

Bahadur. Bahadur.

Climb down! Climb down, I ask you.

My dear! I implore you!

Come here.

Devil take it, this cap.

Fine. It'll pass from you too.

There. Let's go.

- You saw that? - Yeah.

- What was it? - A flying saucer.

Aggregate!

Engage it. The second one.

Suitors!

IF YOU'RE IN LOVE, WANDER THE MOUNTAINS

I don't know what customs you have in your aul,

but here it's all very bothersome.

A youth, having found the one he's destined for in love,

should immediately set out on a long period of wandering

to find his bride such a gift,

that would draw not only the eyes, but the heart.

And so we, rival dzhigits,

set out on the road.

Azis, son of Kalyan. Muhtar, son of Livind.

And I, Bahadur, son of Aisha.

We took different roads, true,

but in the end they all led to the home of Serminaz.

Serminaz!

Allah's gift to a sinful world.

And each of us thought this gift was sent down to him,

and only him!

Alright.

Oh! Oh, Allah!

Greetings to you, stranger.

What has befallen you?

A great misfortune.

A grave misfortune.

I set out for the market in town, but the bridge, you see, is ruined.

I'd swim across, but I fear my bag of onions would sink to the bottom.

So I decided to eat them all.

Lest a good thing go to waste.

Not every good deed leads to joy.

But alright.

- I'll help you. - Ah! Stop!

Stop! Stop! No way!

Over my dead body! Here! Look.

Stand back.

Okay.

You see? And you say such things.

How could you help me? Well, if you buy the onions.

Okay.

How much've you got? Though why count, give it here and take the onions.

- You don't have anything left? - No, not a dime.

That's OK, you're a good guy, Allah will provide for you.

One, two, nine...

It's okay, you're young, handsome!

Oh! How handsome!

Oh! How young!

God won't grudge. Take all the onions - they're yours!

But leave the saddle bag.

So this goes here

and this... is for you.

I don't want your onions, I don't like them. They give me heartburn.

- Dolt! You don't pity me at all. - Why should I pity you?

What's that, "why"? Give it back!

You leave the onions, but take the bag?

- Leave me alone! - Thief! Murderer!

Murderer! Murderer!

You going far?

- To the carpet factory. - I see.

- Looking for a gift for your bride, then? - Yes.

- Wait, you said the carpet factor. - Yes.

On this road? But there's a valley and a king.

- So? - What'd you mean, so?

Who among men dares cross a kingdom and its king? You're mad!

And why not dare?

You will perish, my man! What, you haven't heard the saying?

"Beware of the evil eye and the king's brides."

And many valiant men have perished before me?

They perished, they didn't... but that's what people say.

- So you'll go anyway? - I will!

Then you're to the right, over there.

Greetings, knight! We are goddesses. Do you know us?

We are goddesses, and you are Paris.

Judge who among us is most beautiful.

You shy away, proud Paris.

I'm not Paris, I'm Bahadur.

Ah, you're a coward! The goddesses' wrath falls on you!

So, little Bahadur, yes?

- You're in trouble now. - Now you're in our hands.

- Let me go. - Why did you come here?

- You poor dead man! - You dared to gaze upon the goddesses!

Punish him for this!

For this...

Name?

Name?

Name, I said!

- What's your name? Do you understand? - Magomedov.

Mohammad!?

Mohammad!

No, no, Magomedov's my surname. My name is Bahadur.

Shaitan! I've no luck.

Which Mohammads are you looking for?

A forty-year-old.

I must find 40 forty-year-old Mohammads.

I've found 32. There is just barely enough time left.

What can I do? Where I can I find eight more forty-year-old Mohammads?

Where!?

- Good day. - Good to some, not to others!

Why do you talk that way, my good man?

Good man?

- You must not know who I am. - And who are you, then?

- Me? I'm a murderer. - I'm also a murderer.

Yes! I'm a murderer.

What, you don't believe me?

Don't believe me? Then go your own way.

- Why are you pestering me? - I just...

Just what? What, you've got nowhere to go?

You're naked?

Well...

Well, take it!

- It's fine, I'm not cold. - Put it on, I said!

All said, I can't believe a guy like you could kill a man.

What, a man? I killed three! Understand? Three!

- Three? - Yes.

- How old are you? - 20.

Hmm, 20! At your age I was happy too.

And what made you unhappy?

Jealousy, friend, damned jealousy!

I'm from the aul Tsovkor.

Renowned among acrobats and tightrope walkers, my name is Suguri.

SUGURI THE CLOWN

This is my beloved Chata,

whom I have lost forever.

I loved her so,

like no one has ever loved another!

At that time, I had yet to read "Don Quixote".

And so I didn't know that testing the faith of a woman is as stupid

as testing the strength of glass.

Because of this gap in my education, I paid it all.

It entered my foolish head to test her love of me.

There was a trial.

Then... parting.

- And thus I became a murderer. - I don't believe it, it's like a movie.

Like a movie.

But didn't you say you killed three, if not more?

That is so.

Is it not tantamount to murder, that I robbed Chata of her beloved husband?

That's two already!

- And the third? - The third is I, myself.

Can you consider me alive without Chata?

Where are you headed now?

I'm going to the public library,

I need to finish reading "Don Quixote".

Greetings, knight! Do you like this rug?

What, don't you like it?

- Looking for a gift for your bride? - No, it's my brother getting married.

Then why didn't he come for the gift?

- Because... - Because?

Because... he's blind.

Then why does he need a pretty rug? Isn't his bride also blind?

Why do you think that?

How else didn't she notice she's marrying a blind man?

Hey, friend, wait!

There's something, wait!

Careful! Catch! Catch me!

- Careful! Don't be afraid. - Catch!

Well, well! Brother, aren't you good. Go away.

I yell to you, I yell, and you hear nothing.

And whose place are you sauntering towards, all relaxed?

I yell to you, and you hear nothing.

Daydreaming, I suppose?

Well, that's fine. At your age it's allowed. Oh!

What a lamb!

What a kebab he'll make!

A dish to die for!

Oh, what a lamb! Wait a minute.

A minute...

Here, you see?

God probably didn't hear your request.

Don't interrupt, dolt!

He knows I don't have time to linger on the road.

I'm a builder! The builder Daud!

Not David the Builder,

but the builder Daud!

Don't confuse them. I suppose you've heard of me?

No, I haven't.

You mean to say you haven't yet. It's OK, you will!

Well, where does the road lead us?

Ah! Looking for a gift. I see.

So, man to man, friend and brother, as you know...

What do you mean?

I mean that you,

a milksop, it could be said, sit before me,

before the esteemed and well-known builder Daud Harahinsky,

with a tightly-stuffed saddlebag,

and, probably, with a no less tightly-stuffed wallet,

and a lamb on top, and you don't want to share anything with me!

Surely that doesn't stand to question.

Young man!

Don't play the fool.

It didn't stand to question while I was not here.

But as soon as I appeared, the question pressed!

- Is your bride beautiful? - Yes.

Eh! I knew as much.

Well, some are lucky.

In fact, I do have money. Not much, though.

I could share it.

How much? Give it here!

Money ruins relationships. Remember that.

And I'm... off.

Oh, what a lamb! Oh!

You can consider me your friend.

What's this?

- What? - I remember everything, wait.

Wait a moment, there... Now come here! Quickly!

- Come here! - Help me!

I knew it.

Just wait, I'll show you!

Stop, Daud Harahinsky!

- Oh, Allah! - Stop! You won't get away!

Ah, you, limping, one-eyed son of Iblis and Shaitan!

Spawn of Rafaina, scoundrel, parasite!

Stop! Lay down until I come back.

I'll show him! The villain! Lay there! I'll find him.

Forward!

To the horses!

I do not know you, I swear it before Allah.

- No, I don't. - You son of Iblis and Shaitan.

Scoundrel and villain! You don't know me?

- You don't know me? You don't? - I remember, I remember!

- You remember? - I remember.

- I remember. - Remember? That's more like it.

Descendant of unworthy fathers! Look at me again! That's it!

- I remember, won't forget for a century. - You won't forget?

Ah, go away!

- Help, friend! - Silence!

- Spawn of Shaitan! Silence! - What was that for?

The protector and friend of a scoundrel is a scoundrel himself!

How do I know he's a scoundrel?

Friend, help the unlucky builder Daud Harahinsky!

Silence!

A builder. You hear that?

A builder.

You don't know him, though I know him well.

Then explain it to me, so I'll know too.

Let him explain. Explain, cur.

I know nothing, manage nothing.

- And maybe you don't know me? - No, I know you.

You remember! Yes!

You see, not long ago I married and decided to build myself one room.

And suddenly, this self-named mason shows up.

This rascal, this fox!

We could do without abuse. You're dirtying my ears and your mouth both.

Silence!

Wait, I haven't yet told you what a cur this Harahinsky is.

He shows up and says you couldn't find a better mason in Istanbul.

I look, and as it is, he can't even lay stones.

I say to him: "Will the walls really stand like that?"

And this shameless man replies:

"Don't worry," he says, "This isn't for beauty, but strength."

He even sang a little tune.

- What was the song? - I don't remember.

- Remember, you parasite! - I can't.

Beauty, what's the point? Strength's better than beauty

This wall will stand a century You will be pleased with me!

Silence!

Tell me, villain!

Tell me, where's this strength? I'm not asking about beauty.

But strength! Strength!

Strength! Strength! Strength!

Where's the strength?

Where's the strength? Where?

Where's the strength? I'm not asking about beauty.

Strength! Strength! Strength!

- Strength! - For Allah's sake, calm down.

Don't get so worked up. Let's pray.

- Untie me, friend. - Untie him.

Oh, Allah!

Oh, Allah! Look!

Woe is you, unlucky one, woe!

You left your young wife alone.

- Speak... - Yes?

In a house with no walls!

Practically on the street!

- Yes? - Ah! Oh, Allah!

Oh, Alla-a-a-ah!

Shaita-a-a-an!

So you see what love does to a man.

Hey you, hatchling!

- Got any money? - No.

Then I'm...

...off.

A magic moment I remember

I raised my eyes, and you were there

Who are you?

You don't know?

What's your name?

Greetings.

You're so funny.

Why so quiet?

Well, say something.

To the renowned masters of Balhar, whose skillful designs are unsurpassed,

and whose beauty quickens the heartbeat of each dzhigit.

That was great.

- Thanks, Hatab. - Carry it to health.

So heavy...

So thin, yet so heavy.

That you'd disappear, striped devil...

Forgive me, Serminaz.

Fine, fine, don't flail.

Oh puss, you're mine.

Little one, my little one.

What's going on here?

This drunk, lanky fellow is angry

because I refused to marry him.

What's that to do with me?

He saw with what love and passion you spoke with me,

and looked at me.

- Me? - Is it not so?

Listen, Saltanat. And then you can strangle me.

Yes?

Do they always note the arrival of guests around here like this?

Always.

And the pitcher from yesterday that looked like a swan, it's whole?

No. It almost killed you, too. Did you like it?

I wanted, when looking at it, to remember your aul.

Remember? What, are you planning to leave?

How else?

- I won't let you go off. - And how won't you?

Yesterday during the fight you yelled that you love me.

That you won't let anyone dance with me.

Now the whole aul knows that you're my groom.

Your groom?

Hey, Saltanat, he's come to!

I'm ready.

Congratulations, comrade groom!

- Time is money. Let us proceed. - Proceed with what?

Proceed, my dear friend,

so that bride and groom shall become known as husband and wife.

I...

- Who am I? - Grandfather Saltanat.

Yes, grandfather Saltanat. These esteemed people are guests of our aul.

Orthodox artists.

Not Orthodox. They're famous, first, and secondly, they're Grigorians.

- Actors of the Brothers Grigorian circus. - Not Grigorian, Asaturian.

- Asaturian. In short... - The bride is here.

The bride is here.

- Here. The groom. - The groom is here.

I'm also here. The word, the law, and...

- Love. - Love. Everything's in place.

Devil, don't shoot!

- Forward! - Don't fall behind, granny!

50, 56.

It's stopped shooting again. What did you plant on me, you rascal?

Deserter! Criminal!

- Don't fear, my dear! - Scoundrel!

I found three more Mohammads! Two remain! I'm off to the station.

They say one's there, but he's leaving today.

I must be off! Sorry, friend!

Smile, Masha - look kindly

Our life is splendid, each day - sunny

Suguri!

Oh! Little Bahadur, hello!

What a meeting!

- Well! How are you? - Average. How about you?

- Did you read "Don Quixote"? - Nope. Wait!

I've got something to show you... wait.

Do you know Archimedes?

There! One...

He couldn't find the pivot point, but I did.

Chata came back to me. That's the main thing!

The pivot - that's the main thing. Well, what kind of shape am I in?

- I won't say anything. - You know how I got her back? Trust!

Trust, and trust alone! Let's go.

Idiot that I am...

I wanted to test her love of me.

Why suspect and try, when you can love!

Trust - that's the main thing.

You have to show your trust. Come on.

Now you'll see for yourself how miraculous she is.

I have no television, no tape deck, no refrigerator,

nor a floor-waxer. But I have Chata! She makes up for everything.

Wait.

Chata's not there either! Hold on.

Not there, not there... No, no, no.

There she is, my Chata!

I raised my eyes, and you were there

There. There!

- Well? It's great. - It's alright.

- Art should serve a purpose. - For whom?

For the artist. Dolt!

Daud? Daud! It's me, Bahadur, the one who gave you money.

- You don't remember me? Daud! - Hmm...

You've made a mistake, my young friend.

My real name is...

Jabrail Alibekovich Sultanov.

People's artist.

And you never happened to sell onions?

My sweet friend!

For your information...

I was born and raised in a well-off family.

To the horses...

And I'm... off.

I see this magic moment

I raised my eyes, and you were there

Like a fleeting vision, Like a genie...

Name?

- Name? - What?

What?

Your name, I said. What's your name?

Magomedov, Bahadur.

- Mohammad? - No, no.

Magomedov is my last name.

- Mohammad? - No, no!

Magomedov is my last name. My surname's Bahadur.

Still looking for your Mohammads? How many have you found?

39.

- And the fortieth... - You didn't find him?

Will I really die like this, having not found the fortieth?

- What do you think? - You'll find him.

THE ROAD HAS NO END

Three dzhigits, three masters,

seek my daughter's hand.

Aziz, son of Kalyan,

Mukhtar, son of Livind,

and Bahadur, son of Aisha.

Before you are the worthiest and most respected elders of the aul.

And before you is my Serminaz.

They came with gifts. And for him whose gift seems best,

a wedding shall be prepared.

Such is the law of the land, and it is not ours to break.

So now I will be silent, and let justice speak.

Respected elders, this is the work of a Balhar craftsman.

You know how valued they are here. And if you add to this pitcher

that I paid too dear a price for it, you'll understand how valuable a gift

I offer to Serminaz.

Explain, young man.

The thing is, in exchange for this pitcher,

I gave my heart to the craftsman who created it.

I'm leaving the battle.

Thank you all for helping me find joy.

And let this pitcher be a wedding gift to Serminaz.

From me, and from my riches.

Saltanat.

Well! Congratulations. I'm delighted.

And what name to honor you by?

- Saltanat. - Saltanat, great!

Saltanat - practically Satan.

Well! My dear! Golden boy!

Congratulations!

Great job! A true dzhigit.

- Whiskered devil! - Calm down.

I'll show you Satan.

Yes... a tough case, that one.

- Not practically, but actually Satan. - Sorry.

Oh, Allah!

Well, Aziz, present your gift.

- What is this stone? - It's a magic stone.

Magic stones exist only in fairy tales.

Eh... my foot.

No, this is a real magic stone.

Exactly of the kind that exist in fairy tales.

Let the proprietress of this stone wish for anything.

It will fulfill any wish.

Any?

Any. I guarantee it.

He guarantees it.

- Any? - Yes, yes. Any.

Wherever I may roam,

In blossoming spring,

I dream a single dream,

And by it am I stirred

Ah, this wonderful dream...

Sorry, my fault. Don't worry. It happens.

Please.

Aziz, my dear! Where did you obtain this stone?

What's important is the fruit, and not the tree on which it grew.

Well! And what do you have?

I have... I have a necklace.

There! Good job, Bahadur!

He has a necklace!

But this is an unusual necklace.

Hear that, friends? He has an unusual necklace!

Well, show us your unusual necklace!

Give me a bit of time.

You'll see I've brought Serminaz the most valuable thing I acquired.

NECKLACE FOR MY BELOVED

A work for film

- Where's the gift? - This is the gift.

What's with this paper? Well?

Where's the gift? This is it?

No! In any case, we can't join our families.

There's a feud between our peoples.

You would really, because of some moss-covered trifle,

squander your daughter's happiness?

Dayan-Duldurum, why do you yell at me?

I have such a voice. Tragicomic.

I will not become such a criminal.

I won't trample my ancestor's legacy!

Well, if this is nonsense,

rubbish, nothing, air, stupidity - then?

I won't become such a criminal, I won't!

Oh, Allah! Look at this monster.

What does he want from poor Dayan?

To break his unfortunate heart?

Comrade Dayan, you're not in the club.

And we're not members of an amateur theatrical circle!

- Behave properly. - Yeah, yeah.

Clearly I behave improperly just in speaking with you!

- Mister Duldurum, you'll regret... - Sit!

- You will regret... - Sit, I said!

- You'll regret this, I said! - What!?

This episode...

occurred a hundred and some years ago.

There was an argument about the makeup of the universe.

Your ancestor, Duldurum, Abdul-Mutalib, claimed,

that the world stands on the shell of a black tortoise.

And your ancestor, Jandar,

proved that it is held on the horns of a white buffalo.

And thus arose your feud.

- And that's all? - Yes, that's all.

What are you laughing at?

How can't you laugh, esteemed Hasbulat?

Just think...

because of such rubbish two families fought like battling rams!

There's nothing to laugh at!

Or do you find this question empty, of what holds up the world?

Of course!

May I ask why?

Because, esteemed Hasbulat, the world isn't held up by anything.

And here I didn't think

I was speaking with such naive people!

"Isn't held up by anything..."

Jandar!

Come here. You too, Duldurum.

Give me your hands.

Shake them, firmly!

- Do you feel the warmth? - Yes.

- And do you know what this warmth is? - No, I don't.

It is the very warmth,

that holds up the world.

Wise Hasbulat, let his name be praised through the centuries, loved to say:

"Nothing happens without a beginning, and everything begins from the road."

A year later, my beauty Serminaz gave me a son.

Big-nosed, like me, black-eyed, and happy.

His name is Amru, which means Life.