Original subtitles

The Silver Globe

A Film based on the Moon Trilogy by Jerzy Zulawski.

You will be seeing a film that was made ten years ago.

An incomplete film, a two-and-a-half hour story, one-fifth of which is missing.

That one-fifth, dating back to 1977, when the film was destroyed, will never be re-created.

In place of the missing scenes, you will hear a voice, which will briefly explain what is missing.

We are completing work on "The Silver Globe" in 1987.

It fell from the clouds, at night. From on high.

They were close.

They were hunting...

They found it in the morning, in the trees.

It fluttered...beautiful.

He travelled two days across the snow, tired.

He thought: "For them."

"For sure."

What is it?

He says they saw it fall.

Maybe they didn't.

Maybe they saw a star?

It's an ancient object. It couldn't have fallen now.

It could have in the past.

Everybody saw it.

Two days ago.

At night.

They found it in the morning.

For us.

It's 50, 60 years old.

It's a small transmission module.

The way it's burned indicates it's titanium.

It used to take off from a pad on six propulsion nozzles.

I guess they didn't teach you about it.

Why did it fall now?

It might have roamed, to lock in on a target station. But not for fifty years...

Unless...

If they're telling the truth...

They don't usually lie.

One of the older rigs should crack it.

If the brain hasn't burned up,

it should be able to tell us where it came from and why.

Tell her not to come in here.

This place is packed with sensitive gear!

If you all ran wild...

Unless she's coming to see you.

She's not coming to see me, she's coming to take you.

You don't understand.

She's mine.

No, it's you that's theirs.

Go! But dress warm, it's freezing outside.

Later...

What happens if you run short of all the chemicals?

Freedom, perhaps.

They could have killed us, and taken the chemicals.

Or they could have stolen them while we slept.

But they haven't!

We are the ones who give.

They don't need to take!

Alien, like a tree.

We must be explored, and domesticated.

Poisoned, approached, swept...

Are we the last of those who retain power?

Or are we the first of those who are defenseless?

Under the hatchway, to which two astronauts entered

there is a laboratory

a huge room filled with machines, listening to the sounds from outer space.

Only one of the oldest machines, which has laid idle for decades

can read out what is inside a container, which the astronauts got from a rider.

It is a diary.

Or rather, a series of semi-transparent plates

featuring scenes as if taken by a camera.

The opening plates show the flight of a space craft.

The pilots lose control of the spacecraft, which crashes in the mountains.

I can't see!

The fliers clamor out of the shattered cockpit.

They are amidst rocks, and the atmosphere is unbreathable.

They leave the dead body of the flight commander O'Tamor near the cockpit.

They wheel out rovers from their rocket and they ride downhill.

One of the astronauts, Tomasz, is injured.

The other rocket following their course crashes in the mountains and explodes

Those who died in it, the Remogners,

were they pursuers or friends?

This planet is an ideal image of Earth.

That is why it has been chosen for a new life.

But the rovers heading for the sea run across a huge heap of debris.

Reminiscent of some architectural form, as if a civilization existed here at one time.

While they are near the ruins, Tomasz's temperature goes up

and he becomes delirious.

He's seeing phantoms.

The dead astronaut O'Tamor and the Remogners are coming after him.

O'Tamor tries to defend him while the Remongers try to chain him.

c'mon

O'Tamor was right

we can breathe the air!

We shall live.

Wait!

Do you remember...

...when a man is born?

The father endows him with a name...

Seeds of every possibility.

What every man nurtures in him

will watch it then grow in him, and bring forth fruit.

If it is natural, he will be of the land.

If it is sensual, he will be an animal.

If it's rational, his being will become divine!

Finally, if it is intellectual

he will be an angel!

He will be an angel...or the son of man!

Maybe the time is ripe to say

that the commonwealth is in real danger!

That we are cowards, who have to defend courage

sex, consciousness, carnal beauty

quest of love

Winning that may become a heroic destiny after all.

But to utter these words is to demonstrate how sad we are.

Because the strongest believers among us

have spent their years talking about fear.

Impotence,

stupidity,

ugliness,

self-love

and apathy.

Although we have thus attempted to take an austere view of this reality

it may depend on a decent life.

Our work.

Our honor, which permits us

to express no more than what we ourselves have seen.

It was

I didn't hear your answers.

I didn't believe that any signal could penetrate

the radiation belt enveloping this planet.

While falling, they flashed across the plain.

Don't struggle!

The wave returned, and we caught it!

They stood over me...

O'Tamor was walking dead...

they wanted to take me with them!

Maybe what gets reflected and returns is not only an electromagnetic wave

but also ions making up the image of the dead.

Stop it! You're delirious!

But I know that whatever you say must carry at least a grain of truth

just because you're capable of saying it!

Lay him down!

Don't forget what we escaped

just to repeat with impugnity what we believe in!

Don't forget

whatever you say is the truth

unless you say it...

to impose your will upon us.

And I don't believe in anything.

If you say it, you look into yourself.

If you look into yourself, you are not blind.

That is why you're here with us, running away.

Yes

You are dying, brother.

After all, there is truth in everything I say

if I'm capable of expressing it.

Freedom is...

is lying in darkness.

It turns away

it turns away from the lust of darkness, to lean towards the lust of light.

It embraces light with it's everlasting will.

And darkness

strives to capture the light of freedom.

But it cannot do that.

Because it is centered on it's own lust

and turns to darkness again.

The wind rises.

Night is falling.

The drizzle turns into a downpour

and the downpour into a hurricane.

Tomasz is dying.

Before he dies, Marta implores to be left alone with him.

She loves him.

She clings to him.

She protects him with her body.

The nearby river is rising and breaks its banks.

It's a flood.

Marta!

We have to be moving.

We cannot survive here.

No chance.

Not until we reach the seashore where we were supposed to land.

Come on.

No!

NO!

You're sick.

We'll carry you.

Turn it off.

I'm telling you.

Turn it off, you fool.

The sea!

We found the ocean!

Tomasz is growing up faster than he would on Earth.

At the age of six months, he's already at the height of a one-year-old baby.

Is it possible that we might die? The she'd be left all alone.

Marta

It's the rainy season.

It's going to keep raining.

Six months of waiting is a long time.

You may perish. We may perish.

And then

Marta

Isn't that right?

Marta, isn't that right?

Yes.

I've taken Marta and Piotr's camera.

They no longer bother to record what's happening to us.

I have fused their memories into one. Mine.

I erase the irrelevant pieces

I keep the gist.

Only this recording makes sense to me.

I must be careful.

It costs them so much.

Costs me so little.

Why?

Nothing at all...

I don't demand anything.

I don't believe in anything.

I only believe in perfect freedom.

Ours.

Mine.

Piotr says at one time, long ago, I could have been a monk.

Because I'm not yet a man.

But I'm already old.

If one is to forget why we are here

one is like this

like I am.

For it is not us that are lost in contemplation of the world.

It is the world that is lost in our contemplation.

Oh, Earth...

You don't wish to learn from me, Tomasz?

I can breathe without this!

What's Earth really like?

What is it?

What is it, old man?

Earth is what I feel for you.

You're alive.

My father's dead.

Marta, talk to me.

Marta, say something!

Yes?

Marta, be quiet.

Marta, laugh.

Marta, cry.

Marta, dance!

Dance!

Marta, dance!

Dance!

You can think only if you believe.

There is no thought

without faith.

Only the one who has faith

has thought.

So

one must want to know faith!

You can believe only if you have struck roots!

Only the one

can believe

who has roots of his own!

Thus

one must want to know the roots!

You can have your roots

only if you act!

The one who acts

has roots!

Thus

one must want to know action!

Here, everything is as on Earth.

The same chaos.

The same absence of truth.

The same lies.

You love her.

To love is to...

want to be absorbed entirely by somebody.

To love...is to feel entirely responsible for somebody.

You can also take laciviously, without love.

In this case, the word carries no meaning.

It turns into evil and hate.

But

we have arrived here

in order not to hate anybody.

How can you be so happy here?

You who have nothing here

I have you.

You have us!

Which means you have what we have!

Which means you have nothing!

Nothing!

You won't even defend yourself.

oh, Earth...

I found him here.

One day, when the Angel of Death came to Solomon

He looked at one of his courtiers

"Who is that?" the courtier asked.

"The Angel of Death," replied Solomon.

"It seems he has looked at me,"

"so tell the wind to take me from here and carry me to India."

And Solomon did it.

Then the Angel of Death said:

"I was looking at him for such a long spell of time,"

"because I wondered."

"For your order came to deliver his soul to India."

"Meanwhile, he is here, at your side. In your court."

It is true!

I will have a baby.

Your baby.

It will be my last baby.

Don't say anything for a while.

I want to be at peace with myself this time.

Help me.

So far, you haven't let me paint you.

Can I do it now?

You could have killed him

the moment he wanted to be alone with me, for the first time.

A girl...

I see them

all of them.

Yes, everything.

Not exactly.

I didn't understand either.

After all

it's quite dark here.

You are back

and mother?

Mother is dead?

And you will die, too.

Yes.

Like mother.

Yes.

Still I will say it

perhaps incoherently.

I, a free man

an unimpassioned man.

I am wounded

wounded like an animal

I suffer like an animal

like Piotr.

What I brought along with me was chaos.

Any order

any cheerfulness

clarity

tranquility

have gone.

As if, with her death, a nightmare has gone

without a dream

a dream without wake

a wake without dream

I was taught

that the eye of the world, which is watching me

is the same eye with which I am watching the world.

This eye is neither cheerful nor evil

neither feeling nor expectant.

It's indifferent, like water.

I will stay with it.

I will stay in it

for as long as I can.

I will go into the mountains, looking for metal ores

which they will use

I will be thinking

Yes

I will be thinking

I will feel

I will feel melded with you

Rock

Grass

I shall feel

I shall feel

in me your non-human translucence!

I shall feel

complete cool!

I am nobody

I have hated and despised the belligerence

Now I

I myself

deserve contempt

because I am fighting against myself.

There is suffering

but

there is no subject of suffering.

There is assuagement.

But there is no man to reach it.

There is a road.

But there is no one

to follow it.

You're back again, old man.

Please

Please go on

dancing.

You are back.

I am Ada

Marta's last daughter.

Why would you never die?

Why would you not die?

Why would you not understand

what you yourself have given us?

Why are you not in what is?

Why are you elsewhere?

Where nothing is.

Nothing.

And then

fertile mother Marta

begoteth thunder

with the moon in heaven.

And she indulged in pleasure, to have him stronger than Tomasz.

And so it returned,

to have her swept away by the flood

and beget fishes

and animals of the forest.

Piotr

gave us

places to settle down

and reason

and the bow

Being here

you told us always to remember.

Why don't you ever say anything?

oh, Earth...

Earth!

The old man said:

"Earth"

"Oh!"

"Earth!"

I want...

to record myself

ever more often.

No

No!

I don't want to.

Come, you who are poised, motionless

but who are getting closer to me

every hour.

She feels the fire.

She serves the fire.

She gives herself to me

because I control the fire.

I am consecrated to you

who have arrived.

I could marry him.

They are afraid of me and him.

Because he is replaying Marta, you and the rain.

Love me.

I love everything.

Say something.

Say something.

Say something!

I curse you!

I curse you in the name of Old Man!

Say something...

Say something!

Kill...

Kill him!

The Old Man is praying for you.

It's something...something he wanted to draw

for he has forgotten writing.

Maybe evil?

Evil...

Forgive me.

Don't look at me...

in this state

in this garb

in this degredation.

You would not look for me

had you not found me!

Record it carefully

for you are recording

a demigod.

And an animal.

Did you feel the same fear on Earth?

Yes...

Did you?

Yes.

Will you go back there?

Nobody returns anywhere.

I've told you many times.

You don't have to say the truth to the end.

You are the Old Man.

But tell me

how do you know all this?

Because eternity is the state of simultaneous possession of everything

Ada

I am Tomasz the second.

The son of old Tomasz.

Tomasz the third.

I don't understand, when you speak like this.

Nobody understands you! Not even Ada!

We are afraid to watch your face for too long.

I can not

oppose you, Tomasz the third.

This place is ever more stuffy

impatient

and wistful.

Because you are the Old Man.

Bless me, Old Man.

How?

Old Tomasz was sluggish!

He didn't try to expand the country where we live!

He didn't want to know what was beyond

and beyond

and beyond, and beyond!

As if he were afraid.

Tomorrow, the sea will be quiet.

And we will cross to the other side.

There, on the other side, something is looming.

A brighter day.

What if...

there is no other side?

There must be!

Yes

You're right.

It's me that always forgets that I know everything.

But I don't understand anything.

Do you want to see Marta?

I don't need to.

I believe

I believe that mother Marta has created the world

and we must explore it!

Because it is for us.

What are you doing here, Ada?

Be angry with me, Old Man.

Child, you're not listening to me.

I know you cannot say everything.

You will go back there.

Stop raving!

You are my daughter

We all are your children!

And you showed us what is good and what is bad!

Tell me

why were you expelled from Earth?

I am beautiful.

I am young!

I can do...

I can do what nobody can do.

May the blessing of the Old Man

be with you.

Give it.

Enough.

Only the shreds of memory are left.

On the other side

we found it.

There are huge settlements.

A city

like a beehive!

There!

Everybody perished!

There!

There...

Monsters...

they have wings

black

a single eye

They're flying

flying after me!

To destroy...

To destroy the humans!

They are carrying death!

It's the wind.

Sir

don't

don't go!

Don't go, sir!

I am better than you

and that's why I'll be able to play you.

Earth?

Earth.

Earth...

Oh, Earth!

People rejoice

the Old Man is leaving.

Is it allowed

to take one's own daughter to bed?

If a brother takes the property of his brother, should his hand be cut off?

Should the dead be given food every day?

Or only on holidays?

Is the

birth of a baby a holiday,

even if the baby's blind?

I don't know.

I know nothing!

No, she's not ill

she is the victory of desire over truth!

And the sick one

the sick one is the one who is playing.

The actor is sick

because he is looking for you in himself

and he is ugly

although he can see and feel

so he will not be loved

so he wrings his contorted face

and he is like a bad mirror for beauty.

The actor is the victory of ugliness

over the beauty of the world.

Do you hear?

Do you hear?!

They are flying in!

They are flying!

Come on, you bloodthirsty god.

Alone

in his bizarre suit of astronaut/demigod

he has reached the rocket which crashed in the mountains years ago.

O'Tamor's body is still lying there, as though nothing has happened.

With his last effort, George finds the container in which he will put the report he's recorded

on what's happened to him, to them, to the people here.

He will aim the mini rocket across space.

Before he deposits the last memory plate into it, he is recording his face for a moment.

In tears.

In the tunnel, where the two astronauts have watched George's diary, the screens flicker out

Silence sets in.

"It must be dispatched to Old Earth," the senior astronaut says.

He glances at the junior one, who is sitting tense, self-absorbed.

"Let's go back to them. Home." says the junior one.

"Let us rejoice with them. Dance, celebrate that we're alive."

"Why are you crying?" asks senior.

"Because I don't know who I am."

He silently opens the hatchway above their heads

wind screams into the tunnel's passage

and a girl sneaks in with the wind.

She is the same girl who died with Tomasz the second on the seashore.

She is not the same, but rather she resembles her.

Following her into the tunnel are warriors, stringing their bows.

Many years later

A new spacecraft is arriving at the same spot where the first rocket crashed.

It's more advanced, and it's landing softly.

One man, Marek, gets off the spacecraft.

He speaks into the microphone and camera lens mounted on the rocket's fuselage.

"All is as in the retrieved memo package." he says.

He glances at the man's petrified face.

"They are beautiful." he says.

"A little funny, old-fashioned."

"I'm coming down to rendezous with the people."

There is a crackling noise in the headphones.

"How am I doing?" Marek replies

"I'm fine."

"I managed to make the landing unhurt."

"My love to Aza."

He breaks off the connection.

Marek is descending from the mountains.

At the foot of the mountains, where breathing is possible, a grizzly crowd is swarming.

They are monks. The expectant bretheren.

For generations, gazing at the inaccessible peaks where their ancestor disappeared

and where Marek is descending from now.

They have been waiting for him.

Because the prophecy says, that in due time a new, young God will come.

The victor.

The one who will liberate the people from the terror of the hideous, evil gigantic birds

called "the Szerns".

The inconceivable and cruel monsters which flew in from across the sea

and turned the people into slaves.

"Come on, I'm not a savior." Marek laughs it off,

"I'm human, like you!"

The Father Superior smiles slyly.

"It is because you want it this way,"

It is not the fates of these downgraded people that enraptures Marek,

but the uprising which breaks out at the news of his arrival.

The Szerns army (or police) are half-human creatures

which the Szerns beget with women.

They are called "Morks"(?!)

They are beastly, strong and dumb.

They put up stiff resistance.

Battles multiply.

The last of the battles takes place on the seashore, where a human settlment is huddled underground

and where the High Priest, "Malahouda", lives.

Where is the high priest?

Where's Malahouda?

We come to pay tribute

to see

to see if he is the victor!

Bind him!

Tie him up!

Punish him!

Kill him!

I should have destroyed you.

They mustn't see you wounded, sir.

Hurry!

We shall find the high traitor

who has not come halfway to meet the father of your fiancee, sir!

Whom you will fall in love with

because she is your destiny!

Out!

Then we will see who is right

the one who had for centuries waited in the mountains

or the one who had humbled himself and served!

Move it!

I didn't realize what I was

or what I could learn with ease.

What remained was the ease of using my own intelligence

which was searching out an adult objective

while I was still an adolescent.

The most stupid thing

is to fail to understand one's own charm.

Who are you?

We are actors

saints

We musn't take part in battles, nor die with people

nor cross the threshold.

We serve, sir.

You're human.

It's good.

I can play you!

Why are you crying, child?

Our underground state, sir

where we have gathered for centuries to celebrate the promise of your coming.

Sects were established here, of suicides and flagellants

poets and iconoclasts

Here, the monks wrote prophecies.

Up there was the abyss of darkness, dark as the soul of man.

For the soul of man accepts the Szern, sir.

Appropriates him.

Justifies him.

Speaks to him, as if in a dream.

This is your church, sir.

Sir, they're moving out!

But they're ridiculous!

Defenseless!

A defenseless one is strong

Good is bad, beautiful is war!

Is that all?

The end?

The Szern Awij has not been caught, sir.

New reinforcements will fly in from across the sea!

Marek visits the High Priest,

who hands over power to him

and tells him about his daughter,

Ihezal

who will be consecrated to the victor and the cult of the Old Man.

A young warrior, Yeret, is in love with the captured daughter.

"It was I that talked to the Szerns,"

"begging them to reduce the size of tribute."

"I bargained for human lives"

"and I tried hard to grasp their meaning"

"the absurdity of their way of life."

says Malahouda.

He is tired.

"The faith is coming to an end," he says

"since you have come."

"Now reality is beginning."

I am alone.

A prince, in the middle of an icy chamber

built in an icy space.

I carry my own space, inside me

I'm carrying it to an absurd country

in an absurd time.

As if the entire world, the big one,

and the one inside me

merged into a hateful vision of thier bodies

looking for meaning in one another.

A meaning which their bodies cannot accomodate.

Don't look there, sir!

The Szerns caught children

they did it to them.

Their mothers said that the Szerns wanted to see a demon inside a human being

to see how the soul leaves a body.

And you put up with that!

The Morks say that their nearness is a poetic nearness.

But it stinks!

Don't laugh, sir.

The Szerns each have an eye in their foreheads

and they speak with that eye

Keeping silent...

they speak

They speak.

They say that this is beautiful.

The Morks say that this is beautiful.

These are horrors...!

They say we are defective

we cannot direct the evil in ourselves

nor the horrors.

They are killing us.

Perfunctorily, you won't understand

why they let some live, while exterminating others.

Didn't you negotiate with them?

They don't negotiate, sir!

Until they realized that they could take women

they had swarmed this place.

At that time, they could still fly.

Now,

they are lying around, days on end

watching.

They use that eye of theirs.

We can feel it.

Across the thickest walls, we feel anxiety welling up.

Then we see everything.

Nothing!

Nothing!

Sir, there is a sect of scientists that claim they're not there.

That they are only a reflection of ourselves

called out from the dark.

With what?

I don't know.

You believe them?

No, sir!

Do you believe in me?

Who are you?

A man.

Hours of lead,

nights of lead

lead in the heart.

The heartache turns to lead.

We are of lead

of nothing.

Of lead.

The lead cancer

eating at my body.

Fluid as an amoeba.

An amoeba

in my selfishness.

in it's right to search out places of greater delight.

She's playing the woman, sir

the one you left to come here.

What?

You did leave her, sir!

You left her to come here.

How do you know?

It's in the prophecy.

Don't remember!

What?

The High Priest's daughter is asking you not to return.

Where?

To Earth, sir.

Fear, the signs of fornication

the signs of decay

the rotten signs of blindness and the fallen body of a woman.

Don't fear what is,

because there is only what you do not feel.

It is terrible to be caught in the hands of the living god!

Aza...

And thus I shall be called, sir.

Ihezal!

Aza!

I want to go up to the mountains

and be left alone!

Without you!

I knew you would come!

If you are an intelligent being, as they say,

you are curious.

You think: "Who is that man?"

"Where is he from?"

I saved your life!

I did not denounce you!

They would have beaten you dead, and I would not have learned anything

Maybe you could talk to me!

After all,

I can comprehend who you are!

I hear.

I'm trying to understand.

You are me

I am you.

Everything is identical.

Even when I think I'm talking to myself, I'm talking to you.

Even when I think I'm talking to God, I'm talking to you.

You are the gateway.

You are the tunnel.

You are the light of the ultimate threshold.

Rubbish!

How?

How?

What with?

What is this?

I don't understand this notion.

I don't comprehend it!

That we are brothers?

That we're the same?

You've changed the track of thought!

You've been only a step away.

I've been!

Now I see only flashes

No!

Light...

Why do you imitate God?

Why death?

Why resurrection?

Come back!

Come back!

You are the survival

because you are not closed

because you resolve, in your power

the time and the air

and the contradiction that we are

the animals

I am an animal among animals!

A wolf in the forest.

The one who has devoured all is the only one.

Only he endures.

Those he has devoured are meagre.

One must bleed them to get the nightmare off the chest

and have cold return to the realm of cold.

Excellent

Excellent!

How do you know?

Why do you repeat her name?

Aza!

What does she hold against me?

That they have succumbed to me

while I have never entirely succumbed to her.

When am I entire?

They are waging an eternal battle.

You!

Come here!

Oh, Marta!

People!

The victor...

Keep on talking to me

you monster!

Damn you!

Stop it!

Chain him

I'll talk to him.

Were you alone with the Szerns?

She caught him, she proved it!

Maybe the signs will appear on her, sir!

Enough!

I gave orders here!

But sir, the law says such women --

I am the law here!

I take her into my care, she's mine!

I don't know

I haven't known such delight before.

I haven't been so irresponsible.

Everything here is yours, sir.

You've freed us.

How do you feel, facing the victor?

I shall serve him with all my might

until doom.

The victor is unjust.

You're standing over the captive evil.

Let the good be good,

even against suffering.

Yes,

I'm tired

tired...

Listen!

You've taken me...

I'm yours!

I'm consecrated to you, even if you don't want me!

Then everybody would take me

I would be a woman of the temple

and the children I would bear would be killed.

I accept everything you do.

I am you.

I am what you are.

Do you love Yeret?

I love you!

I came here out of the frailty of my heart

I was betrayed by the woman I loved

The only one for whom...

for whom

nothing seemed to matter anymore

Such is the power other people have over me

What have I?

Who have I?

What am I?

One blow with the knife

was enough for a dark balloon to break loose and drift away.

And the traveller who has thus far built for himself a cocoon

saw the dark of the night and began to scream.

I am in the prison of my own freedom.

In the hell of the one who is watching.

I can't afford to love you

and that woman.

Just be.

Don't think.

It will not hurt me.

And yet I am alive

Alive!

You musn't tell anybody what happened here.

Yes.

I was thoughtless.

If you wish, sir.

I am weak.

Yes.

I am a man!

From Earth

I'm the one who has taken you inside me.

You're of two minds, sir.

You haven't finished your work,

and you hesitate whether or not you should go back.

I know who you want to talk to, sir. My father.

To have him out of your way, and the Szerns who oppose you.

Do you feel disgraced?

Spurned?

I love you, sir.

As nobody ever will.

From beyond life!

From beyond death and woe!

As of today, the absence of this faith will be punished with all severity!

Worthless are those who don't believe!

Now either a retaliation by the Szerns or our fire across the sea!

May the white Szern hands never take our women away!

Take arms!

You faithful!

To the troops!

I'm the one that you understand.

Yesterday was the night, the heat of battle.

Today is different.

They're preparing to cross the sea.

However cruel and inhuman you are

there must be some truth in you. Your truth.

I'd like to talk with you.

They tell me about your crimes.

I don't know.

Tell me

Tell me if we reflect the transformation of the visible into the invisible.

I believe that

any extremes of faith and illusion are equally unjustified and unimportant.

and that in the depths of everybody, in the nucleus, there is goodness.

Everything is truth.

There is a grain of truth in everything that exists.

I'm to do what I like

as anyone

You are saying it with such contempt, I can feel your hatred.

Why? Because the sea. The city's sweet, beautiful and rich...

I'm not asking you about it!

I'm asking you about this.

You said that everything has a name, an ulterior prinicpal

What is the answer?

Where is the place where everything unites and becomes one?

Does it become?

Keep talking

Keep on talking, I don't understand!

I feel fear,

chaos,

darkness...

I can hear... it's the motion of water!

No, of the night!

No, it's the motion of the motion, the motion of the will!

What do you want to say?

Irrationality of slavery

A kind of ritual human murder

as the objective.

Cruelty as a virtue?

Inertia of the totality?

Then why do you spit on me?

You gave me nothing but contempt

and contempt can take you nowhere.

I can hear...

It's power over me is infinite.

Who's power?

Who's?

You are an animal!

You are an animal yourself.

So you are saying!

No, it's you are hearing.

So why are you talking?

Because you gave me food.

So you want to live?

I don't know. Do you think I'm alive?

You're an animal. So you are alive!

Is it only the animal in you that is alive?

What about that which lives through the animal?

I don't understand!

You are an animal.

So am I.

I am consistent.

You are not.

I am a reflection of what is in you.

You are not a reflection of what is in me.

I want to know one thing only.

Tell me, Earth, the planet you come from

What is it?

A star, you see?

A star.

I forgot.

Their conceit,

their rush to death

my death.

But I see myself in them

Her image, in the ecstasy of love, impaled on him

screaming

You say within, inside -- I agree!

To get inside, to excrete.

Infinity is within

I don't love, loving is inward.

Not a person, not things

not myself.

By loving everything, you are everything and you are unconcerned

you come in contact with the existence of truth

with the name of animality, without which you wouldn't be

Oh I see!

Beyond words!

Truth, evil,

they signify nothing.

I yearn for this pain.

This flow.

Now I feel melded with you

rock, water

I feel in me your non-human transparence

total cool

I am nobody

I have always been nobody

I hated and despised the reconciled ones

Now I, I am the most despicable

because I have come to terms with myself.

I will not change anything in this world.

My illusion is not even a ripple on the world's cruel, metallic surface.

I can see!

It is an ocean!

You're showing it's beauty to me!

Slowly

Speak more slowly.

You are opening

Slower!

I am in the doorway!

More slowly!

It hurts!

So much beauty it hurts!

I was taught to be intelligent, efficient, cool.

To conquer.

Don't talk about feelings! I have no feelings!

Who?

How?

What am I to do?

Yes, unbind myself!

These irons break your wings.

Worms are eating your flesh.

You are beautiful!

You are divine!

I love you!

Master, I want to vanish in your wisdom!

He wants to take you!

Let me go!

He hears something which doesn't exist!

He doesn't say anything you wouldn't already know!

I can hear this!

This God is a new God!

How? How do you know this, woman?

I'm playing it!

I know it!

I can feel birth and death,

the truth and untruth of everything!

She, that one! She lied and committed adultery!

You are only beginning to learn about others.

You are only beginning to percieve, to sense.

The only important thing is what you demand from yourself.

You are too wise.

Too wise for me.

He's speaking to you

Singing to you...

I can feel it from the anxiety in me!

He's laughing at you!

He's saying you've never taken,

you will not take!

Because you are dry and dead.

And you are not alive at all,

because you are an object created by objects

and you don't know the name, nor the meaning!

Neither do you know anything about yourself!

You are a blind man!

A weakling!

No!

Take him.

I've been learning

for many years.

You know, victor,

constrained by my duties

on sleepless and doubt-ridden nights

I thought that as I would be going and learning

I would turn inside out my whole life, like a glove.

Look!

I always thought there were two ways

as if playing this, what we play for real

did not give me any satisfaction.

Now I have it.

What am I to do?

You know full well.

Simply you do.

If you took my daughter,

and made her into a woman...

The Szerns. What do you know?

You cannot beat the Szern in you.

Victor,

you've probably experienced it yourself.

If you could not beat one,

how are you going to beat thousands?

As you see, I am playing

and making room for you.

You are to act.

The hope will return when you are gone.

What is hope?

Hope is...

the faith

in materializing the form with oneself.

Groping in darkness

I'm yearning.

Everything endures.

I endure.

I increasingly think about closing my eyes and abstaining from everything.

I, a eunuch in the landscape of despair.

Sir, we will cross the sea.

I gave you gunpowder, munitions.

Go by yourselves.

But sir, it is you who they worship!

Who they believe!

Who they are waiting for!

I'll give her back to you.

But you need a woman, sir!

Why does the Szern carry in him the riddle of chaotic behavior?

Why does evil act selectively?

And why is it methodically absurd?

Although it is only what I can think,

understand or utter,

the most absurd, the most cruel thing I can afford.

What about courage?

We come to inquire about your designs, sir.

The designs are laid out in the prophecy.

It's long past knowledge. Why are you asking?

Sir, you must appear before the people for the ceremony!

Rumor has spread in the town

that the sea did not part when you looked at it!

We need metal...

saltpeter,

manpower.

You have decided, sir.

People of little faith,

can it be otherwise?

Am I not right?

You have all knowledge, sir.

World,

what have I done not to comprehend you?

Are you satisfied?

Sir, we are absorbing you.

You are in us, like marrow in the bone.

What did you say?

Like the cause in existence.

Nothing, sir. Let us rejoice.

They are playing.

At first the Szern, out of vanity, created the world

which seemed ideal for him.

But when he looked up,

he saw the night

which he didn't create himself.

Then he returned to his homeland.

And then his masculine power turned into the feminine readiness.

Oh, sir!

How hard I am trying!

Malahouda, her father

he's seen hanging around town at night.

He derides you.

What does he say?

That peace will return only after you're gone.

I didn't come to bring peace, but war!

Who?

A scholar, sir.

He improved the weaving plan, invented fuel for the flame.

Measured the roads.

What's he say?

He claims there's no Earth.

That there was no Old Man.

That everything is silent and empty.

And that only we exist, that the Szerns are like animals --

Then where do I come from, in his opinion?

He says you're a worm, sir.

That you've come up to the surface.

So why did I come?

You didn't come.

You were expelled.

Where is Yeret?

Yeret is leading the parade.

The Morks we have caught will be slaughtered in your honor, sir.

You didn't tell me we had caught somebody!

Not somebody, sir.

Some thing!

You don't instruct me, fool!

Nobody will be killed without my consent!

Well, yours is all knowledge, sir.

Indeed,

you are a man.

I recognize your anger.

I'm being carried by the river of love!

It may mean disgrace, betrayal and pain

but it encompasses good and evil!

It is good!

It is love!

But after all the only thought which sets thought into motion,

the only fidelity which gives a form

to something which is in the chaos of biology

is fidelity

to the predetermined goal.

Only it gives the feeling that the emptiness of this chaos

cannot be spanned with the braces of one's own making.

Certainly, but everything is of my own making

and so is of the understanding that everything is everything!

That it is a well without echo, and bottom!

Did you like me?

Sir,

stand on her.

Give her her dignity back.

They will kill me.

Leave me alone.

What?

Morks!

I don't believe

that you're descended from your fathers alone!

You must have something human in you, after your mothers!

I'm appealing to what is human in you!

Morks!

Your lives will be spared if you join us!

If you go with us!

Morks!

Mother...

Mother.

Chains.

Child.

Kill nothing.

You nothing.

Everything pain.

Sleep, pain.

Day, pain.

Fear.

When Szern sings,

I animal.

You less.

You death.

I the bow,

trees,

grass.

I, Mareh.

Mork.

The sea.

You fear I.

Alone.

I go.

I far.

You fear.

Pain.

Wait.

You voice.

I silence.

We go away.

Perish.

Float.

Swim.

You Szern.

Let him sing.

I see the Earth.

Grass. Forest.

I feel the warm air

I see two great birds, which I associate with death.

I'm afraid.

Where is she?

I was asked to bring you here.

What?

What?

Whoever will know the world

will find a corpse.

And who finds a corpse

will have the world not worthy of him.

He wants to burn them in pyres.

He is right, sir.

They're already nothing.

The Szern's touch burns off their sex

When they speak, they speak of the delight of rape

The Szern touches in them what is their essence

darkness itself.

He opens it even more.

Fills it up.

Makes it clear.

You sound as if you yourself...

I know nothing!

Nothing!

What do you want?

What am I to do?

How am I to defend myself?

I didn't know

there could be a love so great.

On Earth, things are different.

Is there day and night?

Yes.

White and black?

Yes.

Love and hate?

There is no killing on Earth.

There is killing, when there is living.

What do you feel?

Joy.

And the power of fulfillment.

You teach me something

which I didn't know.

I feel love.

But now only my body is suffering.

The pain that I feel is only physical.

I can't touch it.

I also can.

"Oh, you aren't." I can tell myself

Turn your thoughts away from her.

May she not be present,

so that you don't suffer.

Thus,

through my pain-swollen body

the soul is shaping up smoothly, soothingly, I would say non-materially.

The soul does not suffer.

I recognize unconcern in it. Like in a warm river.

My soul and I identify.

She was beautiful

and famous.

Yes.

You never loved her.

What's this for?

For your leaving tomorrow.

To pay homage to what is, and not to reject anything that is not.

The tangibility of ego, that we can see.

A submission to the narrow labyrinth of one's own sensual passion.

The belief in the importance of those who wield power over us

means the creation of evil, calling evil from the dark.

Transforming oneself into a cancer, which believes that everything is it's property.

Why are you concerned with the woman, sir?

Because holiness enters a man as he gains the exonorating power of suicide.

In his historic visitation.

Visitation through what?

The Szern.

What in the Szern is evil?

While I am God for you?

What is greater and more tranquil than God?

Let's get moving.

It will be a hot day

after a long night.

Guard her.

Remember.

Can you feel it?

Can you?

Those who have not demonstrated faith,

lascivious women,

those who have hidden their sons from the expedition

and those who have not paid their taxes.

I shall remember you.

What is your name?

Sevin.

What were you?

A priest.

Will you serve?

Against whom?

The sea is tranquil.

A gentle breeze propels the ships.

Before they reach their goal, they come across a floating tree trunk,

on which the actor and scholar Roda is drifting.

Because they have been expelled for their lack of faith.

The scholar looks at Marek with contempt.

"You don't exist at all," he explains.

"You have not come at all."

Marek replies,

"If I die, go into the mountains and find my rocket."

"Get in, seal the hatch and press one button."

"The red one."

"Rely on me, sir!" the actor exclaims.

"I will transmit you."

"My oxygen helmet is in the monastery of Expectant Bretheren,"

"at the foot of the mountains." Marek says.

"You are sly," Roda replies.

"You're leaving me in the middle of the sea, while you talk about mountains."

"Yes." answers Marek,

"Our odds are the same."

Marek...

Marek.

Marek, do you hear me?

Marek!

No reply.

The next step.

The next door which I will have to occupy

is death.

Speak.

Still nothing.

What if I didn't want to ask you about it?

Where in her truth speaks, her darkness speaks.

Truth is darkness and clear is only that which is being formulated against you.

Speak.

Still nothing.

What if I didn't want to ask you about it?

There.

I must know.

There, there!

Here!

Not there!

Here!

There.

I must see it.

Ultimately,

every reaction to physiology is the facism of the soul.

It is shrinking instead of growing.

Just as if

everything boils down to the judgement

that while living,

man does nothing.

And only a dead man or a cripple

creates.

"Master Jaeck,"

the porter says, standing at attention before him.

Dressed in the same garb as him,

members of the audience are sitting in a huge, dilapidated hall.

They are leaning, their eyes riveted.

The acoustics are fine.

Aza is standing and singing in one brightly-lit end of the hall.

She is singing while the actors perform

about themselves, about their divine self-love.

Jaeck shuts his eyes.

He takes a few steps back, stumbles, and runs out.

What's going on?

A mistake.

That quack gave me some nasty stuff.

No news from Marek?

We sent him there to make our love stronger.

Yes!

Now.

Now is ever, now here, ever!

Love! Love, we make love!

In a few months your girlishness, your beauty has disappeared.

You've grown old

and your face, it scares me sometimes!

For any push to the end

brings matter to self-explosion.

As if, beyond a certain barrier,

there remains only death at the bottom.

Again, you are one of many.

You're taking part in an auction.

You exist through your love affair.

But you don't know that it's not you who sets the price.

The value in this market.

The hand which fumbles inside you,

and which cruelly turns you inside out,

is the hand of the very principle of the market.

The murderous hand or eye,

which finds pleasure in seeing how the killer

the actors,

the lustful,

like dogs, are worrying now.

Standing in rows

are ceiling-high metal office cabinets.

The drawers,

hundreds of identical drawers,

are filled

with electrical tubes similar to old-fashioned radio valves.

They are all the same.

Marek bends down over them

The Szerns swoop down on him.

Marek fires his weapon.

From the head of a killed Szern creeps out a still-shining eye

and Marek says in the wake of it's final glint

"That is all."

Thousands of Szern eyes,

thousands of Szern brains

are lying in the drawers, waiting.

Marek looks at the murals of the temple walls.

They are dirty and faded,

but readable.

They depict the Szern in thrones,

posing,

pompous.

Holy Szerns

Humbled Szerns.

gazing up at the high supreme Szern

and still higher into the clouds, with adoration.

Mareks lips silently articulate the words.

"Home."

"Home."

Aza!

Aza, are you crazy?

Aza!

You see?

You can arrive at a state in which you must admit.

Submit.

Let your guts out,

as if recognizing that this is just inside.

And that the sight of your entrails means giving up the secret

of exposing and discarding your ego without remainder.

You,

and

if not you, then who?

I...

We are pleased with your coming, sir.

But...you had a gun?

And so many,

yet you come back so few?

War,

diseases

We were told by Yeret, who I sent in advance,

that you have done all in your human power.

Human power?

Nothing beyond it?

Where is Yeret?

But he's at your side

We sent him back with reinforcements,

as you demanded.

Don't you remember?

I was sick.

So we heard.

How?

For the lack of faith

of course.

The faith does not call for the gift of grace.

But life alone does.

Why did we retreat, sir?

We should have held out to the end!

For the men...

to the very end.

It is said,

who comes to know oneself, comes to know God.

I already know who I am.

And you, brother?

Secret killings have been rife since you left, sir.

People are in panic.

You have retreated.

Their anger will be terrible.

Where's Ihezal?

Ihezal!

Get up.

Get up!

Get up!

You are the only man without a secret.

You speak about her,

but you don't believe.

You're like an animal

following a scent.

All the same scent.

You're an actress

playing the value of a feeling.

It's transience.

transience...

You're a biologist,

speculating

about the mystery through your belly.

Your belly, into which you lead the heat.

Which you in turn take to be yourself.

Because we are sinful and dead

we call from the depth.

Let us cleave to the grace of your resurrection.

Melt in your goodness

and experience your mercy

in order to attain resurrection with you.

Mystery,

because we are small

and dead.

Ihezal!

Ihezal?

It's me...

I missed you so much!

So did I.

I waited,

I knew that only my fidelity mattered.

My chastity and our mutual bond.

Why won't you let me touch you?

The words are so indistinct!

Maybe we are sick, sir!

Sick of evil and passivity!

Maybe we live momentarily, like an ulcer.

And you want to rearrange our destiny!

Maybe I am a disease, turning toward a new, unfamiliar host.

I don't understand!

Sweet are my embraces.

Remember, sir?

It's nothing compared with the delight which the whole body can feel, if it wants.

If it's in rapport with the feelings

I'm a body, sir!

Dissociation

The idea of dissociation.

Self-consciousness in dissociation

There is duality of nature here,

and duality of life.

The thought of duality is part of my nature.

It's the contradiction,

between form and desire.

Between the answer and the language of darkness.

Hence, I am God.

I am God!

Come, sir...

Sir!

Sir,

your spacecraft!

The Expectant Bretheren saw it rise in a column of fire!

I don't want to see it anymore.

I want to know it.

I want to be there.

You here!

There nothing!

Nothing is there.

Everything is here.

You may die.

I beg you.

I'm not afraid to die.

The sea!

One must change their cruel laws!

Expel the priests!

Give an equal share to the people!

Destroy false hopes.

They won't agree.

Then we alone will do it!

The guns.

Against whom?

The city.

The city.

They are right, sir!

Blessed be him,

who was before he became.

And you shall become

those who are passing by.

The Szern Awij sits above Marek's head.

He is watching, curious.

He jeers.

"Hail, brother!"

"Without that eye which somebody had programmed for you,"

"which you yourself perhaps programmed"

"when you still could think."

says Marek.

The Szern answers,

"And who has programmed you?"

"Who am I?" asks Marek.

The Szern turns some dirt in his claws against the wooden cross and replies,

"You are this."

"Will I ever emerge from this darkness?" asks Marek.

"It does hurt, brother, doesn't it?"

answers Awij.

Jaeck fires at him.

The Szern falls down on the sand,

revolving more and more slowly,

like a dying spring toy.

He keeps repeating:

"Love,"

"Love,"

"Love."

Force!

My force, you have left me!

Who?

What?

Why?

Welcome...

grace.

How much can one accept?

How great is the mercy to be felt?

How much can you afford,

not to become a Szern yourself?

In a casino,

astronauts are playing roulette and baccarat.

Jaeck is passing by,

listening to shreds of conversation.

Somebody says:

"He was not to blame."

"He was an animal among animals."

"A wolf in the forest."

Someone replies:

"Soul has it's abode not in the brain,"

"but in the form."

A third voice:

"The angel symbolizes the transfiguration from the visible to the invisible,"

"which we are accomplishing."

Television screens along one side of the wall flicker to life,

showing the picture registered by the camera mounted on Marek's rocket.

The camera, apparently stimulated to action

by an outside motion or body warmth

as the scholar, Roda, and the actor approach the rocket,

sharing an oxygen helmet.

Jaeck is shouting to them,

but they don't hear.

Scurrying past an astronaut's dead body,

the actor and Roda enter the rocket.

The casino manager grabs Jaeck by the arm, saying

"Master!"

"They are looking for you!"

"Strikes!"

"Demonstrations!"

"The conspiracy of gnostics,"

"Those who know should--"

At one end of the baccarat table, Ihezal is seated

wearing Aza's dress.

She's laughing provocatively,

looking at Jaeck.

She's surrounded by admirers.

The face of Jaeck's assistant appears on the screen.

Master,

we have a signal.

Keep talking to us.

Where is Marek?

Who sent you?

We can see you.

There is a white light over us.

There is the eye which can see us.

Speak to it!

We are going

to the interior

of Earth.

Where

resides the truth.

And the happiness

of men.

And the explanation of all mysteries!

Because,

we are right.

Since ever.

Since ever!

We are right!

We are right!

He's gone mad!

No.

He's performing.

Master, we can bring them over to us.

They are close enough.

Master.

Let them fly.

Where to, master?

To Old Earth.

Jaeck turns his back to the screen.

Very slowly, he's sinking to his knees

and bending toward the ground.

A heart attack.

Jaeck is dying.

The astronauts rush to help.

They pound his chest.

Nothing doing.

From the corner of the hall,

master Jaeck is watching his death.

The astronauts are struggling to revive his body.

Nobody pays attention

as he walks out of the casino.

It's dark outside.

There are bonfires across the step.

Over a bonfire, the tribe is sitting.

The same tribe.

There is a girl there, with ice in her palms.

who looks very much like Ihezal.

Jaeck is coming up to her.

She rises to her feet and opens her arms.

The camera moves into the darkness of her body.

Her heartbeat becomes audible.

A moment later,

the hoofbeats of a horse riding across the step.

The final shot of this film recorded in the screenplay

was the following:

Long shot.

Three meters.

In the dawning light.

A horse,

galloping across the step.

without a rider.

On the decision of the Vice-Minister of Culture

and the Secretary of State for Polish cinema,

the shooting of the film "The Silver Globe"

was broken off in the spring of 1977.

At that time, the film crew were staying on the Baltic Sea coast.

and the entire suite of decorations and costumes

needed to complete a two-year old production had been finally created

and awaited the film crew

in locations including lower Silesia,

the Masuria Lake District and the Caucasus Mountains.

All of those decorations,

costumes,

and props

were destroyed.

Film studio workers,

wardrobe specialists,

and art designers

have preserved for many years in warehouses or in private apartments

whatever they managed to salvage from the destruction.

I'm finishing this film thinking about others.

Meanwhile, the small drama of this film

and the grand and hopefully dignified drama of our life

will continue to intertwine in a common mosaic

of successful flights and crash-landings.

My name is Andrej Zulawski.

The director of the film, "The Silver Globe".

subtitles by -NorWood-