Original subtitles

MOSFILM

KURIER FILM STUDIOS

PRESENT

A FILM BY KAREN SHAKHNAZAROV

IN THE MOSCOW SLUMS

BASED ON THE WRITINGS OF VLADIMIR GILYAROVSKY

AND THE SIGN OF THE FOUR BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

MOSCOW, 1902

"Man - there's the truth.

What is man?

Not you, nor I, nor they - no!

Man is you, I, and they.

An old man, Napoleon, and Mohammed in one!

Man is immense.

In this, all things begin and end.

All is in man.

All is for man.

Man alone exists.

All else is merely the work of his hands and of his brain.

Man...

Man!

It is glorious!

It... sounds majestic!

It...

sounds majestic..."

Take a break.

May we go for lunch?

You may.

Thank you. Olya, my dear, shall we?

Yet again, you disrupt our rehearsals.

This is hopeless!

I say the lines, and it all feels off.

You need to have faith in the sensitivity of your audience.

Don't make it hard for them.

Your face and hands have already conveyed the essentials,

yet you continue to overplay these details.

And your tone:

keep it brisk, light, and nervy.

I mean, with nerve.

Carefree, and with nerve.

Light and carefree?

Picture a cold, dark, semi-basement.

They'll let you spend the night there, for a coin.

No pillow, no coverlet.

And all you have is one coin.

I'd like to see you carefree after a night like that.

Who are these vagrants? Just people, like you and I.

Yes, but also different.

You and I are pampered by prosperity.

We turn problems into tragedies.

Surely you see that despite all their troubles,

Gorky's characters are still in good spirits, have zest for life.

With all due respect, no - I don't see it.

That isn't the case in real life,

and we've created a theatre that should convey to people the truth of life.

What is the truth of life? You don't even know.

What's more, we won't get this truth of yours past the censor.

Are you acquainted with that

master of insightful reportage...

Gilyarovsky, I believe?

I am.

I hear he gives tours of Khitrovka.

You actually want to take a tour of that den of iniquity?

Introduce me to him.

I hear he knows Khitrovka and its residents better than anyone.

True, Gorky also lived among beggars,

but he sketches the fate of his heroes too vaguely.

I need more to work with.

Very well.

I'm afraid all our tables are taken, sir.

I have an appointment with Mr Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko.

My dear Gilyarovsky!

Here you go, Stanislavsky,

you've got your wish: Vladimir Gilyarovsky,

journalist, writer, renowned explorer of the Moscow slums.

- Stanislavsky, at your service. - Do sit.

Thank you.

The menu.

You're the talk of the town.

Talented actor, director...

Your theatre is already the stuff of legend.

- Thank you. - You are too kind.

Our friend here says you've a new play by Gorky about the homeless.

A wonderful idea.

That is precisely why I wish to visit Khitrovka.

Could you take me there?

I could.

But I should warn you -

it's a dangerous place.

Khitrovka is not only beggars and drunkards.

It's a refuge for runaway convicts,

bandits, and murderers.

I don't enter Khitrovka without brass knuckles

and a whip.

It's a cruel place.

If I may, Gilyarovsky,

I have read your excellent reports on Khitrovka, and it seems to me

that only someone who sincerely loved the place could write about it as you do.

God forbid! How could anyone love such a place?

Stanislavsky is right.

Though a magnet for vice and ruled by violence,

you could hardly find a place more free.

It's where a man decides for himself how to act.

It's a fascinating place.

- So we're going? - Not lost your nerve?

I'll take the risk.

Gentlemen, are you ready to order?

Consomme with gnocchi, game crepinettes, and a bottle of Lafite.

For me, the boiled turbot with hollandaise and a bottle of Rhine wine.

The salpicon on melba toast is excellent. I highly recommend it.

Sounds wonderful.

Russian cabbage soup, if you please.

My apologies, we do not serve that here.

I can offer you our pot age

with stuffed cucumbers.

No, thank you.

Could you do jellied veal with sour cream?

That we could.

And vodka!

Alms, for the love of God.

Watch your pockets or they'll clean you out.

Might knife you, too.

- Come and get it! - Offal!

Good sir, offal for you!

Let's cut through there.

Fresh rolls!

Grab that thief! Stop!

- Look where you're going! - Candlesticks for sale!

Make way! Make way!

Best quality rice and sesame, just arrived.

- I got here first, it's mine! - Don't point at me!

That way.

The latest piece from Count Tolstoy. Count Tolstoy's latest.

Careful now.

Let's go.

They're killing him!

Good wine for sale. Wine for sale.

You won't regret it. Don't be shy - take a look!

Buy a samovar.

Well, Stanislavsky,

how about I show you the shelter?

- Let's go. - This way.

It's called the Hog House, the owner's name sounds like "hog".

Even the police don't go nosing in there. It's quite something.

I'm a good girl. You belong in prison.

Hands off!

You rogue!

Now, here we go...

Here it is.

Look around.

Look at the whiskers on that one!

A proper cockroach.

Let's go.

- Down-and-outs! Paupers! - To think I was a cathedral chorister.

Go on then.

- Long life to you, Gilyarovsky! - Thank you, my friend.

Long life...

- Forgive me... - Get away!

- Good day. - Gilly, old friend, you're most welcome!

Vodka - for everyone!

After the fire of 1812, General Khitrovo built a wonderful square.

It had lawns and gardens. Then a market appeared, and another.

The homeless, the tramps, and the jobless moved in, and here we are.

Why not tear it down?

The owner of the largest shelter is a friend of the governer-general.

Need I say more?

Welcome to the Chain Gang Inn, haven to bandits, thieves, and fugitives.

After you.

Look at that one, all dolled up.

I'll kill you!

Oh - hello!

Vodka! More vodka!

Hey, boy!

Clear this up.

Half a bottle of vodka and some boiled eggs.

Do you know everyone here?

Not everyone, of course, but one or two.

Take a look over there.

How old is that woman, do you think?

I wouldn't like to say. She looks old.

And yet, she's just 22 years old.

A prostitute since she was eight.

Sells any children she has to beggars.

- Spends the money on vodka. - Sells?

Oh, yes - children are common currency here in Khitrovka,

hired out to beggars from birth.

In the last week of lent,

a newborn child who cries a good deal will fetch 25 kopeks.

A three-year-old will go for ten.

A child might die in a beggar's arms in the morning,

but she'll carry on begging all day as usual.

[Singing in French]

Who is that?

That's Ksenia.

- They call her "The Countess". - Why so?

Because she was born an aristocrat.

How did she end up here?

Her father ruined himself.

She came to Khitrovka as a girl.

Rather than die of hunger, she learned to steal.

And now Boldokh, the most respected thief in these parts, keeps her as his fancy.

"Fancy", you say?

Mistress, or kept woman, take your pick.

She's waiting for his release.

She loves him?

How should I know?

My dear Gilyarovsky...

can you introduce us?

I see you are also unable to resist her charms.

One moment.

Countess!

Join us!

Over here!

Good day, Countess.

And the same to you.

Won't you sit down?

How's business? Still raiding pockets?

Gilly, don't embarrass me,

not in front of strangers.

When did the truth ever embarrass you?

Allow me to introduce Konstantin Stanislavsky,

our great director. You've heard of him?

I can't say that I have.

So, you fancied a taste of vice to thrill your nerves?

To thrill my nerves... You could say that.

Oh, Gilly, I'm so tired of all your...

voyeurs.

We're like animals in a zoo to them.

Not to me. I need your help.

- We can help clean out your pockets. - No, really.

For example, I'd like to know...

what that man's really like.

Why?

Besides, it's pointless.

- You've nothing in common. - My point precisely.

I'm playing a drunkard on the stage.

One way or another, I must grasp his true nature.

Listen to this:

"Man pays for everything himself.

For faith, and its absence. For intellect, for love.

This is why he is free.

Then what is man?

Man is not you, nor I, nor they - no!

Man is you, I, they, Napoleon, Mohammed, all in one!

It is immense! Man!

It is glorious! It sounds majestic!”

None of that is true.

What?

How did it go...

"Man - it sounds majestic!"

Look at us!

How can "man" sound majestic here?

Say it with irony, with a grin.

Maybe then I would believe you.

Twenty-six!

Take care, old man.

- What's happening? - A raid.

This lot will wait it out on the roof. We'll leave them to it.

Come along - I'll introduce you

to someone very interesting indeed. Let's go.

Run for it!

He's a real Indian. They call him Rajah,

but I think it's an alias. No one knows his real name.

- An Indian? - Indeed! A proud Sikh, he says.

He has a glorious red turban that he never takes off.

I believe he sleeps in it.

- What brought him to Russia? - Who knows?

He says nothing of himself.

A mysterious fellow...

It's like the cave of the forty thieves in Arabian Nights in there.

We play chess on occasion.

Gilyarovsky, I think...

the door is open.

Open?

Strange.

Well, in that case, shall we?

Is he...?

He's dead.

We must call the police.

Hey, Pip!

- Get Rudnikov. - Rajah been done in, has he?

Hold your tongue! And no dawdling.

Where am I going, then? It's the first time I've been in here.

This way.

Maikov, wait for me here. Well, well...

And who might you be, sir? This is a possible crime scene.

Bystanders are not permitted.

He's with me. Konstantin Stanislavsky,

the great director.

Yet another of your tourists, then.

For God's sake, don't touch anything. Let's go in.

So, he has breathed his last.

May he rest in heaven, or wherever it is they go.

Look at this. See?

Gilyarovsky, you've dragged me away from pleasant company.

Why the rush?

Doesn't look to me like this corpse is going anywhere in a hurry.

But who could have killed him?

He had all sorts of shady dealings in Khitrovka, and yet...

The locals keep it simple: a knife, a cleaver, an axe.

Here, our murder weapon is...

some kind of toothpick. Right?

A toothpick?

Gilyarovsky, what's this?

Don't touch it!

Well... It's obvious.

A decorative feature.

But it's not hanging on a nail. It's imbedded in the wall.

So what?

Rajah had a shopful of oriental antiques here.

Lord knows what we might find.

All the same...

who would do this?

A man like Rajah is bound to have enemies.

What do you want from me?

The lock is intact, so not a burglary.

No sign of a fight. And if something is missing,

how would we know?

What a lot of clutter.

If it was an acquaintance, perhaps he let them in himself.

You know any acquaintance of his?

How many do you know?

None, actually.

I know only one: you.

You told me of your chess games yourself.

Maybe you killed him.

For beating you at chess.

Well, did you Kill him?

- Very funny. - It is rather.

Gentlemen, there's another dart over here.

Keep your hands off.

Why here?

It's obvious.

The killer missed.

No need to play the investigator, eh? I can manage this on my own.

I'll just take this then, shall 1? And we'll be on our way.

Take it. What use is it to me?

Maikov!

Search the whole place,

then lock it. No one must enter.

Bring the bird, or it'll die. Off you go.

Just a moment.

Look. Who's that?

What do you mean - who? It's Rajah himself.

Yes...

More than ten years ago. He hadn't changed a bit.

- He sailed on the Petersburg? - How should I know?

Perhaps he did.

His life is a mystery.

And now it will remain so.

Let's go.

SS PETERSBURG 1890

And the killer?

- They'll be caught? - Unlikely.

Rajah had no relatives. His belongings will be parcelled out

and he'll be forgotten. But it is all most curious.

We must get to the bottom...

of this mysterious toothpick.

Can such a tiny wound really kill a man?

Wait...

Look carefully.

The sharp end changes colour.

Is it coated with something?

Possibly...

I know just the man to help us.

Professor! He's always up to something.

Professor! Where's he got to?

- Professor! - Gilly, is that you?

- 'tis I. - Well, make yourself at home.

I'm coming down.

Professor, may I introduce

Konstantin Stanislavsky, the director.

- And actor. - Wonderful actor.

Founder of the Moscow Art Theatre.

And this is Agafon Strassenmaier.

- Doctor. - Just Professor will do.

Take a look at that!

What a beauty.

Good and fresh. Stabbed to death just three hours ago.

What if someone comes looking for him?

By the time they catch on, there won't be anything left to find.

Professor.

- I'm five kopeks short. - Come back in 2 days.

I'm all out.

Old miser.

Right. Shall we begin?

What on earth are you doing?

Well, just like what a director does - rehearsals.

I am a surgeon, and I too need to rehearse.

Need anything cutting out, let me know.

Professor, we've brought a curious object to show you.

I'll wager it won't surprise me.

I seem to have lost.

I won't bother asking you where you found it.

In your opinion, could this kill a man?

That depends on what it's treated with.

And?

I need time.

- A day? - Two or three.

And no guarantees.

Very well, two days it is.

Until then.

Come along, Stanislavsky.

Let me see...

The stoker got drunk again.

- So hire another. - Another would need to be paid...

twice the rate.

Don't forget that if we want to keep on the best actors this season,

we need to raise their wages.

Prices are going up everywhere.

We're spending three thousand roubles

on firewood alone.

And don't forget the royalties.

I already paid Gorky his advance.

You can keep my director's royalties.

And you demand gooseberry jam for the Three Sisters set.

Not only is it impossible to find, it also costs a fortune.

But you, my friend, are a director!

And Chekhov said that gooseberry was Vershinin's favourite.

No one in the audience can see what jam Vershinin is eating on stage.

But as Vershinin I can see.

Incidentally, that new watchman of yours, what's his name...

Kolotushkin?

He lisps.

- So what? - So what?!

How can you employ someone like that here?

In a theatre!

My dear Stanislavsky,

the censor is taking issue with our staging of The Lower Depths,

and you talk to me of Kolotushkin?!

Here.

Listen to what they're writing.

"The play has absolutely no plot,

just endless chaotic coming and going".

And there's more:

"If left unchanged, Gorky's play is not only unstageabile,

but simply unpublishable."

I'm not sure Gorky will be allowed to return to Moscow.

I've written to the police department, but...

- I'm sorry, I must go. - Where?!

We have a rehearsal!

Start without me. I've written out all the mises en scene.

Stanislavsky!

- Have you any white roses? - I'm afraid not.

My dear, who gives white roses on a name day?

But Liza, I know my sister loves them.

Be that as it may, it is always I who chooses the gift.

- Young ladies like bright colours. - Stand clear! Make way!

[In French]

- Stand clear! - Yes, take the red ones.

Get along, dearie!

In the language of flowers, red is for passion.

Is not white better? For innocence and purity.

- Ksenia. - Let me by,

I don't know you.

Return that,

or I'll call a policeman.

Hey! Watch it!

Five, and I'll change that one.

Yes, we don't want that one.

How about this one?

That one there looks fresher, doesn't it, Andrey?

Of course, my dear.

An excellent choice of flowers.

Five is enough.

What? Where?

My God! How did | do that?

- Oh, Andrey, you're always losing things. - It's true.

Well, my dove, you really shouldn’t...

Didn't you recognise me?

Stanislavsky, the director. We met yesterday.

I've lost a day's earnings thanks to you.

What other option did I have?

Allow me to invite you for a coffee.

If I have a coffee, it certainly won't be with you.

Let me compensate you, then.

How much?

You'd offer money to a thief, just like that?

Not just like that.

For conversation.

Very well.

- But I shan't join you for coffee. - Khitrovka Lane, please!

You are strange.

To be interested in a play about tramps...

Are tramps not people?

"Washed up has-beens”, "Good for nothing":

that's what others call them.

Khitrovka.

They're speaking out of fear.

It's easier to step away than to try and understand.

Understand what?

Why people choose the streets over a normal life.

- Take you: you dress well. - It's not my dress.

Irrelevant. You can conduct yourself in society.

You speak good French.

Why do you remain in Khitrovka? You have all the tools for an honest life.

Khitrovka raised me.

My father, in a fit of alcoholic rage,

cracked open my mother's skull with a stool,

then vanished to hard lab our in Siberia.

I was just four years old, and no use to anyone.

Two years I lived with an old beggar woman.

I stole for her at the market to pay for my board.

And then the woman died.

- I was taken in by the cats. - Cats?

You would call them pimps.

Every single thing you have just told me is false.

So it is.

False.

Now stop accompanying me.

Why?

Khitrovka has no pity for strangers.

And Gilly isn't with you now.

Stand clear!

- You're here. - Good to see you too.

Your share.

You've a visitor.

Rudnikov's waiting.

What an honour. What does he want?

How would I know?

But I wouldn't go see him.

Why not?

My conscience is clear.

There's your wine!

Good day, Inspector. You're waiting for me?

I am.

How can I help?

The thing is...

I suppose...

you must miss Boldokh terribly.

What's to miss? I'm free as a bird.

We know how free you are...

Tell me...

wasn't it you he had running his errands?

- You're not a thief until caught. - "Until", indeed.

So, my dear...

Your handkerchief, I believe?

Well... yes.

Good of you to admit it.

Found at Rajah's.

Remember dropping it?

I wasn't there.

- You weren't there? - No.

Well then,

perhaps some time in a cell will jog your memory.

Right?

- Here you go. - Thank you.

MYASNITSKAYA POLICE DISTRICT

- Is Rudnikov in? - Yes.

I want to see him! Get me a police officer!

Get me a police officer. I need to see him!

I need to see him! I'll never see him again.

Khitrovka's mine! I told you to stay out!

Get out of here!

Gilyarovsky. What brings you here?

Inspector,

I hear you've arrested The Countess for Rajah's murder.

Gossip travels fast in Moscow.

Come in.

Well, Gilyarovsky,

I see the detective's path tempts you yet.

Why do you think she's the killer?

There.

That's precisely the difference between professionals and amateurs.

Persistence and a meticulous approach.

Off you went,

while my men turned Rajah's home inside out.

They found this:

her handkerchief.

Why do you think it's hers?

It's well known in Khitrovka that Boldokh gifted The Countess

five dozen monogrammed silk handkerchiefs.

And she happens to have dropped one of them at Rajah's place.

That's surely not enough for proof of guilt.

It's not enough for that, no.

But it is enough to make her admit her guilt of her own free will.

And has she?

Not yet

The stubborn girl.

But she will. She has no choice.

Inspector, allow me to talk to her.

The Countess, darts - it just doesn't fit.

Why would she kill him?

Gilyarovsky,

you are an old hand where Khitrovka is concerned.

You ought to know by now that crimes without reason

are committed on every corner.

I won't allow it. You'll only confuse her.

I still don't believe that Ksenia could Kill.

I bumped into her recently, we talked. She seemed a profound person.

Stanislavsky, you're an idealist. I've seen it all in Khitrovka.

The Countess is a thief, and lover to a bandit.

Rudnikov is right. Murder requires no motive in Khitrovka.

Carriage!

I've seen how that Rudnikov of yours works.

Well, our excursion is over. I've shown you all I can.

It should suffice for your play.

My thanks.

- Will you join me? - No, I think I'll walk.

All the best.

E.P. MARSHIN'S GRAPE WINES

- If you're passing the theatre, stop by. - Absolutely.

- Stoleshnikov. - Eh-up!

Steady!

Hot off the press!

Papers, papers! Hot off the press! Get them here!

Papers for sale!

Well, well, well.

"Revered Director Breaks into Crime Scene

Without Police Permission."

What a headline that would make. Simply marvellous.

What's your excuse?

The same as yours, it would seem.

I came to see if I could find anything of interest.

How did you get in?

The same way you did.

Through the open window.

The police must have forgotten it.

Hear that?

That was the door.

Someone's here.

The police, perhaps?

I doubt it.

Then who?

Who is it?

- Quiet now! - Good sirs!

- Who are you? - And who are you?

Nephew of the man who lives here.

Can you prove it?

- I have a photograph in my wallet. - I'll let go, but no tricks.

K. FISHER PHOTO STUDIO

- What's your name? - Sandjit.

And yours?

Stanislavsky, the director.

Gilyarovsky, the journalist.

- Vladimir Gilyarovsky? - The same.

I've heard that name.

Don't you play chess with my uncle?

And where is he?

I suppose you haven't heard...

Your uncle was murdered.

Allow us to offer our sincere condolences.

Yes...

That is a severe blow indeed.

He brought me here as a child from India.

Gave me an education.

How did he die?

A dart was found in his neck.

Most likely, poisoned.

- Strange. - Do you know any reason

why someone might have killed him?

I don't know. Not everything he did

was strictly legal. And Khitrovka is full of dangerous types.

But he wasn't an easy person to Kill. He always carried a chakram.

A chakram? What's that?

An ancient Indian weapon.

A metal ring with sharpened edges.

Is this it?

Yes, that's it.

So, there was a fight after all.

Someone comes to visit Rajah during the night, and he lets them in.

Talk turns to argument. Rajah...

throws the chakram,

but misses.

Do you know his lodgings well?

Could you tell if anything's missing?

I'll need some time.

What about the hidden safe?

Uncle showed it to me years ago.

He asked me to take something from it if anything happened to him.

Let's look there.

It's gone.

- What's gone? - The casket.

It likely held an item of great value.

Uncle was a collector of rarities. It started while he was serving...

What happened?

Murdered!

Back!

Right... Stop.

Stanislavsky,

stay here. I won't be a moment.

I'm coming with you.

He's gone.

Look at that.

Strange. It's as if the foot is split. Never seen the like.

How strange.

This entire affair is very strange indeed.

Well...

We must call Rudnikov.

He'll be thrilled. The Countess is in a cell,

and now he has to find the real killer.

Let's go.

Really, Professor!

Intending to kill the only person left who has any affection for you?

I haven't applied any poison yet.

The worst you risked was losing an eye.

- Oh, well, in that case... - Come and have a go.

I believe this is more or less the idea.

I've been busy experimenting, and lost a favourite rat in the process.

But I have another.

Care for a demonstration?

No need. We've seen the poison in action.

You're sure? A shame.

Professor, what poison is it?

You cannot imagine how many plants exist

from which excellent poisons can be made.

Your choice depends on how you wish your victim to die -

to suffer, or die instantly.

- If you... - Professor! Get to the point.

The poison was made

from the seeds of a rare plant: Abrus Precatorius I.

Commonly known as the rosary pea.

In fact, to kill a man with this poison,

very little is required:

a touch to the skin, and the deed is done.

The rosary pea grows in hot and humid climates.

South-east Asia, Burma, India...

I have no theory to offer as to how it might have arrived in Russia.

Rajah was from India.

That dart was a greeting from his past.

Well done, Professor. Excellent work.

You are peerless, as ever.

That has been said before, but thank you, all the same.

You wouldn't like to watch me poison a rat?

Some other time.

We must be going. Good day to you.

Ah, well. Good day.

Give us a smoke, mister!

Are you the bartender we seek?

I am the bartender.

But I see you haven't come to drink vodka.

You aren't fooling anyone in those dirty rags.

What are you here for, gentlemen?

We need a word with Satan.

I don't know that name.

Tell him Gilly's here. He knows.

Very well.

Escort our guests to the Underworld.

- I poured you vodka! - Hands off!

In much knowledge is much grief.

Gilly...

Need I remind you what happens to those who come here uninvited?

I expect it's the same that happens to those

who are slow to pay their debts.

Who is this?

The great director, Stanislavsky. Have you heard of him?

No, I have not.

Well, director...

you're a long way from home.

You have three minutes.

I wish to know

if any object of particular value

has surfaced in Khitrovka of late.

Come now, you know the rules:

I don't give up my people.

As you know, neither do I.

I'd like to talk to the man.

Of particular value, you say?

Yes, very particular.

Not our specialty.

We deal in mere baubles. You should speak to Testov.

Or Brown.

- Brown is on holiday. - And Testov?

And Testov has no dealings with Khitrovka.

Only with Boldokh.

And only because Boldokh is a genius.

Boldokh is serving time.

I heard he escaped.

You heard, or he escaped?

I heard.

Time's up.

We'll be going then.

It's been a pleasure. My best wishes.

- I think that went well. - Never better.

I say, that was rather convincing.

Right, time to get out of here.

If you please!

Do you think...

Boldokh has really escaped?

If Satan says he heard it, then it's true.

And the only place to hide is here in Khitrovka.

Who's this Testov?

Nikanor Testov, the famous Moscow antiquarian.

Which means he has a soft spot for stolen goods.

- Then we must pay him a visit. - Without question.

- Out of my way! - Watch where you're going!

Better than Cuban cigars and the finest Spanish tobacco!

Thank you.

Get your cut and warm-water shave...

Look at this, Gilyarovsky.

Michelangelo's Bacchus. Must be a copy.

Why, of course it's a copy, my dear Stanislavsky.

But a 17th-century copy.

I acquired it in Florence from Count Strozzi.

Well, this is beyond my wildest dreams!

I saw Three Sisters. Your Vershinin was a wonder.

- Such restraint, such nobility... - Thank you.

Gilyarovsky, what brings you here? Writing a criminal report?

No, no reports. I've come to ask whether

you've had any interesting propositions

in the last few days.

- Ho, Gilyarovsky. - Testov.

- You've a nose like a dog. - And?

I have indeed.

I had a visit from a rogue.

He had a casket of extraordinary beauty.

Stolen, no doubt.

And in the casket... My heart stopped in my chest.

There it was...

the Sparkle of the East.

- The Sparkle of the East? - A necklace beyond compare.

An emerald of rare size,

in a gold setting studded with diamonds.

And just imagine, I see this necklace before me,

about where you are now, in the hands of some lowlife!

Did you buy it?

No. True antiquarians abide by a certain rule.

- We never buy stolen goods. - So you reported him?

Of course not. He was a client, and clients are sacred.

I simply showed him out.

And do you know what?

Only yesterday, I was visited by an investigator.

By his accent, he must have been English.

His cane was most striking.

An intricately carved knob in the form of a winged beast.

- A man's body and a bird's head. - And this man?

The inspector told me of a theft, but did not say what was stolen.

I knew at once it was the Sparkle of the East,

and naturally told him what I knew.

It did occur to me that he was too properly dressed for an inspector.

- And that cane... - What a curious tale.

My thoughts exactly!

It would make for a novella, or a rather good play.

How fortunate we came. You see...

Do go on.

Stanislavsky is inviting you to the theatre.

- Me? - Yes.

Your wife too.

We have a new play opening, a piece by Gorky.

Well, I'm delighted. We shall certainly attend.

- With pleasure! - Good. Now we must leave you.

All the best.

A pleasure, gentlemen.

You're early.

I was expecting you in an hour.

The back door was open.

Have you been here long?

Long enough to hear everything that was said.

Who were those gentlemen?

Don't you know? The famous writer, Gilyarovsky,

and the director, Stanislavsky.

You simply must go and see one of Stanislavsky's plays.

He's a master on the stage.

Why did you tell them about me?

Oh, I just threw them a few tidbits for a story or a play.

Don't worry, they won't read anything into it.

They're creative types...

In this business,

contacts are everything.

In which regard,

Boldokh will be expecting you

at this address, at four this afternoon.

You're sure you saw the necklace?

As I see you now.

It's strange. The casket had a secret lock.

That secret was known only to two people.

One is dead, and the other stands before you.

The thing is, Boldokh...

is a master in the art of breaking in.

There is no lock that he cannot open.

Will that be all?

My conditions have changed.

I shall bring the necklace to you this evening,

and receive immediate payment.

No, my dear fellow, that won't do.

It's out of the question.

You have no reason not to trust me.

I, on the other hand...

Let us leave things as they are.

You will bring me the goods today, and tomorrow, I shall send you the money.

Or else I wish you luck in your search for another buyer.

Very well.

Our agreement stands.

As you can see, I have no hope of hiding from you.

Yes.

That is true.

Still, it was foolish to tell them so much about me.

English devil.

THE FOREIGNER WHO INTERESTS YOU IS STAYING AT THE...

Mr Chekhov and Mr Nemirovich-Danchenko are expecting you, sir.

Good to see you, Chekhov.

- Likewise. Won't you sit down? - Thank you.

You're late, Stanislavsky. We've already eaten.

- The menu. - I won't be eating, thank you.

- As you wish. - Look at that!

My God. It's like the gates of hell.

A triumph of chemistry for the restaurant business:

the preparation of ice cream using liquid nitrogen.

Isn't it amazing?

- Most curious. - As I said.

- I very much want to try it. - No quiet life for you, eh?

Stanislavsky has become quite the detective.

- You don't say! - Yes.

He and Gilyarovsky are rarely out of the Khitrovka slums.

With Gilly?

One can do anything and feel safe with Gilly by one's side.

He paid me a visit last year at Melikhovo.

He covered 85 kilometres a day

and killed a bear, a fox, and a great quantity of rabbits.

We've become embroiled in a particularly intriguing affair.

Stanislavsky here is something of a thrill-seeker.

Indeed, so am [!

Ten years ago, I went off travelling.

Siberia to Sakhalin, and back by boat via China, Burma, and India.

What a glorious trip!

Plenty of "thrills", as you put it.

You sailed via India.

I did indeed.

Perhaps you came across a strange kind of weapon:

a small dart, dipped in poison,

and shot from a tube.

You won't believe it, but I did.

- Well, go on. - On our way across the Indian Ocean,

we made a stop at the Andaman Islands

to pick up an Indian Sikh

who had just completed his posting at a British penal colony.

A brutal place, so he said. But back to your question.

He asked about Russia, and I asked about the isles.

There is a tribe that lives there... Thank you.

Dwarf savages that hunt with the help of

small, poisoned darts, much like what you are describing.

Did they have any notable features?

Congenital deformities, perhaps, or fewer toes?

I couldn't say.

But it's entirely possible. They live in utter poverty.

I heard they sell their children as slaves to the British.

Gentlemen, all this is most diverting,

but let us finally turn to business.

Now, Chekhov...

Excuse me, yes - Chekhov.

- It seems your new play is a comedy? - Indeed!

Not merely a comedy, but in places even a farce.

I am most pleased with my title:

"The Cherry...

orchard".

Forgive me, surely you mean, "Orchard"?

No, no. Stress on the A.

"The Cherry

orchard".

It has a ring to it, no?

- Yes. - As I said.

By the way, how is the Gorky play coming along?

It's troublesome.

The censors are a nightmare.

They want to tear it up.

For you.

- Thank you. - But I met with...

TESTOV MURDERED. AWAIT YOU IN HIS SHOP. V.G.

and we'll certainly take your Cherry Orchard.

I said it had a ring to it!

Please excuse me. I have urgent business.

- A pleasure, Chekhov. - My regards to Gilyarovsky.

Of course.

My dear fellow,

Do me a favour and take the play.

- There goes our Stanislavsky! - Indeed.

Fascinating.

What is?

An unexpected plot twist,

worthy of Shakespeare.

- We only just left, and... - And?

What Stanislavsky means is

this is a high profile case. You can't just arrest anyone.

You didn't find anything?

Nothing.

It's the devil's work.

What's this?

Let me see.

Ah.

Well...

A note of some kind.

The addressee is unclear.

People write notes all the time.

Forgive me, Inspector. The distressed widow is here.

Excuse me, gentlemen. I must leave you briefly.

- Please, do not touch anything. - Of course not.

Don't touch a thing.

Maikov, with me.

Nikanor, my dear, sweet Nikanor...

There, there now. This way...

Come now, this way...

Maikov.

That note is meant for us.

"The foreigner who interests you is staying at the"

He doesn't finish.

Why do you think the note is meant for us?

I think this "foreigner” is the Englishman, the supposed investigator.

Why the intrigue?

Why not tell us from the start?

Perhaps he couldn't.

This note was written right after our talk.

We discussed the necklace, the rogue, and the Englishman

who was interested in the necklace.

Testov was killed immediately after telling us about the Englishman.

- Could the Englishman be our man? - Why not the rogue?

Testov was killed the same way as the others,

with such an unusual weapon that I am sure

there is only one Killer.

You said it yourself: darts and Khitrovka don't fit.

How did the Englishman know what Testov had told us?

He most likely overheard.

There must be a back door.

Yes, well.

It's not much to go on.

Give me that.

It looks like Testov wrote another note before he died.

I would never have thought to do that.

Where did you...?

I told you, I wanted to be Pinkerton as a boy.

In one investigation, he found the killer using precisely this method.

"Shlyuzovaya Embankment, near the abandoned docks".

Remarkable!

Do you know it?

We'll find it.

I'm quite sure it's where the Englishman and the rogue are to meet.

We must hurry.

It should be somewhere here.

Look!

Ah, the genius himself.

Allow me to introduce

the legendary thief of Khitrovka, Monsieur Boldokh.

Rudnikov will be pleased. He's long been after this one.

What a horrible way to die.

Yes...

Believe me, he didn't go quietly.

Look!

The same, strange footprints we saw at Rajah's house.

So there were two killers.

Our Englishman and an unknown creature with split soles.

It all fits with what Chekhov told me.

Here's what I think:

there's a dwarf savage from the Andaman Islands involved.

So, in your opinion, the Englishman

brought this savage to Russia from God knows where?

Why go to the trouble?

Because the dwarf has a unique weapon:

a dart that causes instantaneous death.

Perhaps... In any case, let's move on.

We're finished here. Rudnikov can deal with it.

So, you believe the Englishman brought a dwarf.

- Why not use a dart on Boldokh? - Because there was a struggle.

I think I have it! Boldokh...

escaped from prison and hid in Rajah's house.

The Countess knew and visited him there.

She dropped her handkerchief.

She refuses to talk, to protect Boldokh.

Boldokh chanced to see Rajah's killers and scared them off.

While hiding at Rajah's, he learned about the hidden safe.

When they killed Rajah, he took his chance

and somehow managed to open the safe.

He stole the necklace, planning to sell it to Testov.

Rather than get his hands dirty, Testov sent the Englishman for the necklace.

Boldokh recognised the killer and realised

he wouldn't escape with his life.

Ergo, both Englishman and necklace are most likely far away by now.

No.

Boldokh was an old hand.

He wouldn't have taken the necklace to that meeting.

In that case, we need to know

what this Englishman will do next.

He will look for Boldokh's hiding place, or someone who knows it.

Like The Countess, who's in a cell, and thus hard to reach.

True, but that will have to wait.

Do you have any plans for this evening?

I always have plans.

Then cancel them. We're performing Chekhov at eight.

Have you seen Three Sisters yet?

- No. - Excellent.

"Tarara-boom-dee-ay, I sit and cry all day..."

"Here he is,

sitting around.”

"And why not?"

"Nevermind.

Did you love my mother?"

"Very much."”

"When you grab happiness in snatches, in little pieces,

only to lose it, as I do,

bit by bit you grow coarse,

and spiteful.

Here inside I'm boiling."

Can I help you?

My name is William Fox, from a charity called Angels of Peace.

We help those of noble origin who find themselves in difficult circumstances.

There is a lady held here.

- I would like to talk to her. - It's not permitted.

Bravo! Bravo!

My name is William Fox.

I represent a British charity.

You speak Russian well for a foreigner.

I've been travelling Russia for two years.

I like your country.

It is most entertaining.

But I digress.

I have a business proposition for you.

I don't do business with strangers.

But we are acquainted, Ksenia...

in absentia...

through Boldokh.

I know no such person.

He has something that belongs to me - a mere trifle.

It has value only to me, as it belonged to my dead mother.

Why don't you ask him?

Return it to me.

I will pay five thousand roubles for it.

For a trifle?

May I introduce Pongo, my servant.

A most unusual creature.

The last of the cannibalistic Jarawa tribe of the Andaman Islands.

He shoots poisoned darts, and doesn't miss.

Just a scratch is enough to kill a man.

Run along now, Pongo. You're frightening the lady.

Pongo is essentially an animal. You never know what he might do.

Now, where were we?

Ah, yes. This object.

It belonged to my mother. To me, it is priceless.

I wish to know where it is.

I don't know.

Ask Boldokh, if you can find him.

He has answered his last question, I fear.

Think on it.

That's it.

Hand me that.

Well, Gilyarovsky,

you'll have no choice but to write an excellent article

about the good work of the Moscow police.

- You have good news? - Of course.

It was you who brought it.

We've got our man.

One Boldokh, a thief

and escapee

who was especially violent in his dealings with respectable gentlemen.

His motive, unfortunately, will remain unknown,

since his own associates have finally done him in.

But you know he's not the killer.

The case is closed.

I'm on my way to give a statement

to the Chief of Police.

Fine fellow!

Look here, old chap, could we speak with The Countess?

A pretty lass...

But,

a fool.

All women are fools.

I told her time and again:

you must keep respectable company.

And off she goes with that Boldokh.

They all end up the same,

try as you might.

Well, Rudnikov?

Oh, I released her.

Released her?!

Here we go!

I hold her here - I'm wrong. I release her - I'm wrong.

What have you done?! She's in mortal danger.

Clear the way!

Home-grown tobacco! Who'll have some?

Good day, mademoiselle.

What is your decision?

I asked you to help find my mother's possession.

Very well.

I will check the safe. But I will go alone.

I see no reason to take you along.

If it's there, I'll bring it to a place of your choice two hours from now.

Don't play games with me.

If you don't like it, have your savage kill me here and now.

Two hours from now, a carriage will be waiting

outside The Stopover Tavern.

Pongo will be in the driver's seat.

You can't miss him.

Don't let your savage follow me,

or you'll never see that thing of your mother's again.

We have an agreement.

I hope you know there is no sense in trying to fool me.

- Come on, faster! - I'm running!

Hey, Pip!

Come here.

You know, Countess, you're real beautiful.

Now Boldokh got done in, you can be my fancy.

You can't afford me.

- We'll see about that. - Now, listen carefully.

Did Boldokh leave a considerable legacy?

And if he did,

what's it to you?

What was Boldokh's is mine.

You know the law.

Nothing personal.

Give me what you took.

That Boldokh...

The swine!

Little slut! Who are you trying to fool?

I'll draw on that face of yours

so that even the lowest beggar won't want you.

Go ahead. There's nothing else there.

Still here? Get out.

- Pantaloons, get your pantaloons! - Handkerchiefs!

- Brand new, white as white. - Come and buy!

Would you like to look?

You are a very beautiful woman.

I would ask you to leave with me,

but you are hardly likely to consent.

And I do not.

Forgotten something?

My thanks.

A pleasure doing business with a real gentleman.

THE STOPOVER TAVERN

- Done? - Yes.

Good girl. Now get back.

I'm taking command.

Inspector Rudnikov! How very good to see you.

My dear madam, how is your husband?

In good health, I hope. Send my regards.

Well...

- I'm after a criminal. - We should move.

- It's all under control. - Good luck!

Maikov.

Follow me.

Surround it!

Ah...

- Where's the criminal? - That English devil!

Where could he have got to?

Petrukhin!

Go and search the tavern. Move it!

Not even a mouse could have got past us.

Mouse, indeed! Taken up to heaven like saints, were they? Get looking!

- Gilyarovsky! - Yes, Stanislavsky.

What have you got there?

The cunning fox!

The Neglinnaya River runs beneath our feet to the Otvodnoy Canal.

I know the tunnel like the back of my hand.

You'd better not come or you'll ruin that suit.

You won't get rid of me that easily!

On your head be it.

Inspector, give us two policemen.

You go get a launch and meet us there,

where the Neglinnaya meets the Otvodnoy. Got it?

I'm not sure I have got it.

Look, the director's going down too.

You two - down there.

Maikov, you lot, with me!

Straight to Krymsky Bridge, get a launch, and down the canal.

We'll all meet there.

Good God, what's that?

That's the least of it.

They haven't cleaned down here since Catherine the Great.

This is where we part ways: you take that tunnel, and we'll take this.

They both lead to the Otvodnoy, where we'll get our man.

- Take the torch, Stanislavsky. - Alright.

I may have need of my fists.

Let's go.

Thank you.

Careful now.

Stop.

Look.

- What is it? - I must have imagined it.

Are you certain our Englishman isn't...

lying in wait for us?

Not at all. But I do know we must find the exit, and quickly.

Come on.

Don't hang back, Stanislavsky.

Mr Gilyarovsky.

We have not yet met.

And there's really no need.

Stop following me,

and no one will die.

How about this?

Thought you had me, eh?

That's more like it.

You can do this...

You were magnificent.

- Thanks. - Are you unhurt?

As you see. Give me your hand.

Why not let go?

Thank you.

We can't let that rogue escape.

I know a shortcut. We'll have him now!

I'll break him in pieces! I'll tear him to shreds!

Look at that.

It's them!

- They've got a launch. - Indeed.

The villain was prepared.

Hey! On the bank!

Look, it's Rudnikov!

Right, we'll jump for it.

- Slow down, Inspector! - They'll get away!

Jump!

Are we going to jump?

We're going to jump.

Now, now, now!

Go, go, go!

Got a thrashing, did you?

You let him get away.

We didn't want to deprive you of your work, Inspector.

Quite right, a chase should be conducted by professionals.

Faster! Go faster!

Come on, come on!

He's got dynamite?!

Maikov, hand me the megaphone.

What the... Not that one!

Hey, you on the launch!

Stop this foolery!

No more dynamite!

Pull in to the bank immediately!

You tell him, old boy.

The foreign devil!

Watch out, Inspector, or he'll sink us.

Can you swim, Stanislavsky?

- No. - Wonderful.

Never fear, we'll take them alive yet!

Kukushkin, on the bow!

- Kukushkin, jump! - Jump where?

Come on, come on!

Kukushkin went flying!

- Won't he drown? - Kukushkin doesn't drown.

Are you going to fire?

Don't hit the boiler.

If that dynamite catches, it'll blow it all to bits.

- I'm the best shot in the force. - I'm begging you, Inspector.

Quiet back there.

Stop the engine!

Well...

There was an Englishman, and now there is not.

As for the necklace, that's the last we'll see of the Sparkle of the East.

As in any good tragedy.

Here it is!

The set designed by our very own Viktor Simov.

This is where we'll perform Maxim Gorky's The Lower Depths.

Impressive.

An exact replica.

Yes.

It does feel as though we're standing in a Khitrovka shelter.

I must congratulate you, Inspector. The Order of St Stanislaus, eh?

For military merit!

To be honest, I can't for the life of me understand what it was all about.

Foreigners, dwarves, poisoned darts...

And in our capital city, no less.

No...

A damn strange affair.

No stranger than human nature.

In my opinion,

we can reconstruct the story fairly accurately.

We need only an understanding of

human motives

and actions.

Let's hear it then.

This story began

a decade or so ago, in India,

that ancient and wondrous land

subjugated by the British.

During the crushing of an uprising by the king of Sikkim,

a priceless necklace went missing from his palace in Tumlong:

The Sparkle of the East.

I am certain it was stolen by our Rajah, then in service to the British army,

along with a certain English officer named Benjamin Norris.

The incident was much publicised, and was written of in the British press.

I learned of it from the artist Vereshchagin,

who was living in India then.

As it turned out,

Rajah and Norris emerged unscathed,

their guilt unproven.

But shortly after,

Norris was condemned to hard lab our

in the Andaman Islands

for some serious crime.

Rajah...

seized the opportunity.

He fled,

taking the necklace with him.

Thanks to Chekhov, we know that

the Russian SS Petersburg sailed past the Andaman Islands around this time.

Rajah got on that ship to Russia,

where he later settled in Khitrovka.

Norris, meanwhile,

managed to escape hard lab our

and immediately set about locating his companion.

He somehow became acquainted with Testov,

who was by then already famous as a collector.

Naturally, he knew of the Sparkle of the East.

He was most likely already acquainted with Rajah himself.

It was Testov...

who let slip to Norris where he might find Rajah.

So Norris arrived in Khitrovka,

the very same night that we found Rajah dead in his own home.

This is of course all most interesting,

but we have no way of verifying it.

In art, it is not the facts that are important.

If you succeed

in convincing your audience,

then your creation is, in fact, the truth.

[Praying in Arabic]

"What is man?

Man is

not you,

nor I,

nor they,

no...

Man is you, and I, and they.

An old man, Napoleon,

Mohammed...

all in one.

It is immense.

Do you see?

In this,

all things begin

and end.

All is in man.

All is for man.

Man alone exists.

All else is merely

the work of his hands

and of his brain.

Man.

It sounds...

majestic."

Bravo!

Bravo!

Stanislavsky.

Look who I've brought to see you.

We came to congratulate you on a capital opening night.

- Did you truly like it? - Very much indeed.

You said it so perfectly this time:

"Man - it sounds majestic.”

I felt my heart stop.

You are a great actor.

Thank you, Ksenia.

Gilyarovsky didn't show me around Khitrovka for nothing.

Don't mention it.

It was... made for you.

How did you pull that off?

You are a very beautiful woman.

I would ask you to leave with me,

but you are hardly likely to consent.

And I do not.

I wanted to offer you a place in the theatre.

But you are a lady of means now,

and you can live anywhere you like, from Petersburg to Paris.

It's so strange...

This necklace could see me through three lifetimes,

but I don't want it.

Will you take it?

I couldn't.

I'm a lazy fellow, and I would never work again.

Think of poor Nemirovich-Danchenko.

Stanislavsky... Gilyarovsky, my good sir.

- We are all waiting. - Yes.

I'm coming.

- Join us. - Thank you.

Won't you join us?

At Cafe Hermitage, to toast our premiere.

No, thank you.

Will you accompany me, Gilly?

Where to? Home?

To Khitrovka.

Still Khitrovka?

Khitrovka is my home.

I grew up there,

and there I'll stay.

Someone must sing in the taverns of an evening.

Goodbye, dear Stanislavsky.

I...

Ksenia!

Never have I known such a woman.

You are extraordinary.

Are you declaring your love for me?

Your heart belongs to the theatre, Konstantin Stanislavsky.

Shall we go, Gilly?

Countess, let me walk you home.

They'll take your head for such riches.

You're not afraid?

I'm not afraid.

You know me.

Well then.

Take good care.

Thank you for everything, Gilly.

Gilly!

Gilyarovsky.

Will you take it?

No.

I fear I'd turn to drink.

I'm not made for the easy life.

Keep it.

What will I do with it?

I can't sell it.

Why not?

Split the emerald, melt the chain.

Sell them in Khitrovka.

It's worth more whole, of course, but still...

No.

I won't break it.

Well then,

I'll be going.

At least let me kiss you goodbye.

Farewell.

Farewell.

Countess!

I appear to have lost my watch. Have you seen it?

Fair game, Gilly.

It's my trade.

Indeed,

so it is.

Keep it!

STARRING:

STANISLAVSKY: KONSTANTIN KRYUKOV GILYAROVSKY: MIKHAIL PORECHENKOV

THE COUNTESS: ANFISA CHERNYKH RUDNIKOV: EVGENY STYCHKIN

THE ENGLISH MAN I ALEXEY VERTKOV NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKOI ALEXANDER OLESHKO

TESTOV: BORIS KAMORZIN CHEKHOV: IVAN KOLESNIKOV

PROFESSOR STRASSENMEIER: STANISLAV EVENTOV SATAN: GEORGIY TOPOLAGA

THE BARMAN: YURIY MIRONTSEV DUTY POLICEMAN: SERGEY SHKODA

MAITRE D'HOTEL: SERGEY BARKOVSKIY NEPHEW SANJEET: VASANT BALAN

SUPPORTING CAST:

M. ZOIRZODA, A. DAVYDOV, A. TSINGIEV E. BORSHNYAKOV, O. NESTEROVA, S. ANGEL

R. YOLKIN, O. DULENIN, I. ARKHANGELSKIY, P. MARKELOVA, Yu. VITRUK, V. ENGELS

E. VALTS, D. GRINEVICH, T. MITIENKO, T. MONAKHOVA, E. BOLOTOVA, D. DUBROVITSKIY

N. KOLYCHEVA, E. BELOSHITSKIY, M. SHULGA, I. ABROSIMOVA, A. LUKANICHEYV, S. KIPRSKAYA

V. ZOLOTILOV, A. PAVLENKO, A. GAKHRAMANOVA

GENERAL PRODUCER KAREN SHAKHNAZAROV

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER GALINA SHADUR

SCREENWRITERS EKATERINA KOCHETKOVA, ELENA PODREZ,

KAREN SHAKHNAZAROV

DIRECTOR KAREN SHAKHNAZAROV

DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY OLEG LUKICHYOV

PRODUCTION DESIGNER SERGEY FEVRALEV

COMPOSER YURIY POTEENKO

COSTUME DESIGNERS DMITRIY ANDREEV, VLADIMIR NIKIFOROV

MAKE-UP ARTISTS PYOTR GORSHENIN, TATYANA MELKOMOVA

PROP MASTERS ANATOLIY BATOROV, NATALIA BATOROVA

STEADICAM OPERATOR ALIK TAGIROV

DIRECTOR RAIB ABDULLAEV

STUNT DIRECTOR IVAN SHAKHNAZAROV

SOUND DESIGNER VITALLY ROSHUPKIN

EDITOR IRINA KOZHEMYAKINA

DUBBING MIXER PAVEL SHUVALOV

MUSIC SUPERVISOR ANDREY LEVIN

LINE PRODUCER OLGA CHIGARKOVA

UNIT MANAGER ANDREY RYABOV

THE END

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