All language subtitles for Povinnost--Confession.1998.DVDRip.DivX.Part.01.Subs.EN

The State Film Committee
of Russia

Nadezhda Productions
St. Petersburg

Producer
Svetlana Voloshina

with the participation of
Lenfilm Studios

Alexander Sokurov
CONFESSION

from the diary
of a ship Commander

A cinematographic narrative
in five parts

Part One

The plot and the characters
of this film

are creations of
the author's imagination.

When he climbed up
the nearest hills,

everything seemed beautiful.

Or perhaps he was just trying
to persuade himself of this.

The deep snow
under his feet

had fallen months ago.

He breathed easily.

The space seemed to contain
a secret.

The air was so still,

that each word spoken
in the bay

could be heard distinctly,

coming from the harbour, or from
the windows of a small settlement,

built upon a dam

stone by stone,
by slaves

several decades ago.

The Commander is now
posted here.

He has left the banks
of the Neva.

That's why

he always has
something to recall.

He would say over
in his mind

the names of the streets

and would imagine himself

touching the stones
of its shore.

He even saw
the faces of people

who walked down
the long boulevard

and those faces were

both kind and intelligent.

He often caught himself
longing

for kindness

and intelligence.

He had understood
early in life

the particular hardness
of military service.

He faced it with courage
and patience.

Yet he didn't know
that patience was...

painfully hard work.

As night fell
it became colder,

and terribly quiet...

The Commander recalled
something from Chekhov,

some lines that he hadn't really
understood until now.

The Commander remembered them
almost word for word:

"For whole weeks

the sky was covered
with leaden clouds,

and it seemed
to the inhabitants

that the dreary weather
would go on forever.

Weather like this drives one
to depression

and drink.

Perhaps this is

what made
indifferent people cruel,

while many good
and downtrodden souls,

not seeing the sun
for weeks and months,

forever lost hope
of a better life.

Fogs are quite common here.

They are a real disaster
for seamen.

The salty sea fogs destroy

the plants on the shore.

The gloomy sky,

the sea without a single sail,

the steep, loamy bank

it is all so harsh. "

How lucky that Russia should have
had such a man as Chekhov.

What a pleasure it is

to recall his words, his phrases...

I can't see.

The Commander could not decide

whether he should keep a diary
to record the course of his life.

What if, by chance

someone were to read it?

Bring some sand over here
and a clean piece of rag.

Break the ice.

Hearing the bosun's cries,

he realises there's a problem
on deck.

Some oil's been spilled
on the deck.

The Commander remembered
this sound

of human hands sliding

over the oily surface

of the ice-cold steel.

I wonder,
what is he thinking about?

Ah... about nothing.

Most likely they hate
military service...

How stupid I am: is it possible to
like something you are forced to do?

Perhaps only
by becoming used to it?

No pity for that sailor.

He spilled the oil on the deck
himself.

It was he who spilled the oil.
He has to clean it.

No one but himself.
It has to be cleaned up.

In the waves,
under the snow,

in this oily puddle
another seaman could perish,

just slip and fall
into the sea.

There may be no one at hand
to throw him a life-belt,

and his miserable cry for help

will be lost in the dark waves.

The waters of the northern seas
are brutally cold...

and a man's heart, even
a young and warm one,

will freeze within minutes.
So...

...let him endure it.
Let him clean it up.

When it's cold

there's emptiness.

No, of course
it's not good that I had

no pity for the man.

"They must believe
that freedom is beyond price",

wrote down the Commander.

"My subordinates examine the men

once a week,
as if they were babies.

Why do they do it?

Because their subordinates
are not free?

Or because most of them

don't know how to deal
with freedom?"

Your hands.

"Or perhaps...

it's because we don't trust
each other",

wrote the Commander.

Further on he put
in his diary:

"A young man should be
physically clean. "

Then he crossed it all out
as if scared

to put something
so intimate on paper.

Go and relieve the watch,

those whose duty it is.

Bozyakin! Bozyakin!
Bozyakin!

Go and relieve the watch,
and call the others.

I will relieve Ludwig,
he will come.

Call Ludwig, the CD-5,
and come yourself.

"If they only knew how one
can hate to be free sometimes.

If they only knew how necessary
it sometimes is,

to lack freedom. "

- Is there any hot water?
- All the hot water has dried up.

- I've used it all up.
- Me too.

I've cut my face.

- Your neck too.
- Yes, it's all red.

I've got everything,
pimples and allergies.

The neck, yes.

- You did it with a towel?
- With a blade, a blunt one.

With an axe!

The blade's OK, I've shaved with it.

They sell axes, you know,
very small ones, as souvenirs.

It trims...

"Let me have my say... "

The ship was moored

and tonight he wasn't
needed any more.

But he felt unable to get up
and go on shore,

where his wife and his son
were waiting for him.

He caught himself once more

enjoying silence.

He didn't want to think
about anything,

just listen to his heart
throbbing in its cage...

Everything inside becomes quiet.

Conscience falls asleep.

"Let it sleep for a while",
he thought.

Oh, I should have washed
the towel.

- Which one?
- From the officers' room.

- Where are the keys?
- I have them.

- Have you locked it up?
- Yes.

Good. It's snow white.

- Why is the water cold?
- Go and ask Vanya, why ask me?

- Is it hot now?
- How should I know?

Is it turned off over there?

- Is it hot?
- Let's see.

- Turn on the tap!
- It's already on full.

- Then turn off the cold.
- What for?

We'll have neither cold
nor hot water.

Oh, it's warm!

- To wash the socks.
- Even hot.

Again to the watch?
Why?

Oh, our last autumn...

Hurry up a bit.

- Is your water hot? Well...
- Cold over there too?

We don't have any hot water.

- And you?
- I have.

When you come,
we're always away.

It's a mess.

We'll put out to sea
before long.

I haven't sewn
my tags on yet.

Have you?

What's the hurry?

A new Form 3
has been issued.

So, enough macaroni.
Keks will be making noodles.

Look, the cockroaches
keep running.

It's hard to wake Keks up.

I've been trying for 20 minutes.

I wake him up,

then I come back
5 minutes later.

He keeps on shouting,
"give me an order in writing!"

The other chap wasn't lazy,
he wrote one out

and made them register it.

He should have typed it.

Uvarov's a typist.

- Yours?
- You've lost it?

- What?
- Your little cross.

- Why is it lying around?
- Because I've lost it.

You've lost your tie, too.

- I put it down somewhere.
- During the training exercises.

Not the training,
during the 'all hands'.

- In other words, in Zapolyarie.
- Yesterday?

Yesterday the Mate said:
"There are no more rats!"

Then one jumps
from just under his feet.

Damn it.
Poison again...

Did you get any chlorine?

I found her in the provisions.

She said, "Don't tell anybody
I wasn't in the stores.

Say the lock was frozen".

We received pickles, cabbage...

She put cabbage
on the list.

We have some tomatoes
still to come.

Before returning
to the shore,

the Commander quietly walked
about the sleeping ship.

The cook was sleeping.

He was fast asleep.

The Commander

did not dare wake him.

The Commander was looking
at the young sailors,

thinking that everyone
should understand:

to work is more important
than serving.

If one says about a seaman,
"He performs his service,

but he is a poor mechanic",

or "a poor radio man",
for example,

it means the man
doesn't serve at all,

he creeps,

he pretends to serve.

And if his officer likes

to be waited on?

Am I like that?

No, the Commander decided.

I am too cautious.

An obsequious seaman
can sink the ship with servility.

Freezing to death in the water,
everybody will understand

it would have been better
to serve than to be servile.

Uskov! You took over
the night watch.

Yes, sir.

Did you read the rules?

The watch, especially privates,
must sleep fully-dressed.

- The pants get wrinkled.
- No one cares about that.

- You are going against regulations.
- But we've always slept undressed.

- What?
- We've always slept undressed.

I repeat.

Well I've been in service
since '86, sweety-pie.

Come out here. Let's talk.
I've been in the service since '86.

- Have you ever seen me undressed?
- No.

- On duty?
- No.

- How do I sleep?
- Dressed.

Dressed, and do you know why?

If there's an alarm... up and off!

Only the watch officer

can get special permission
to undress.

- Got it?
- Yes.

The watch service
must always be what?

- Ready.
- No. On its guard.

And it must take itself
completely in hand.

I've noticed that lately
all of you

have been sleeping
undressed.

We have to get rid
of this obscene habit.

- Read the regulations carefully.
- Yes, I read them today.

Even the mechanic,
Alexander Petrovich Botaev,

when he knew he might
have to respond quickly,

never allowed himself
to sleep undressed.

Even he
always slept with his clothes on.

It is the watch's duty.

Serguei Bakai
The Commander

Camera
Alexei Fiodorov

Editor
Leda Semionova

Sound
Sergei Moshkov

Alexander Sokurov
CONFESSION

from the diary
of a ship Commander

End of Part One

� Nadezhda 1998

Subtitles: Alexei Jankowsky

Subtitling by TVS - TITRA FILM