Original subtitles

Downloaded from YTS.MX

♪

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX

[airplane approaching]

[airplane roaring]

♪

First time in Czechoslovakia?

Yes.

♪

Do you have a reason for your visit?

Tourism.

[stamp clicks]

♪

We were on the same flight, weren'’t we?

-Were we? -I'’ve ordered a car.

I can give you a lift to the city if you want,

so that no one bothers you.

Thank you, that'’s very kind of you,

but I have someone waiting for me here.

A pity. Be careful.

Thank you.

[PA announcement in foreign language]

Mr. Zuckerman,

I'’m Rudolf Bolotka.

It'’s great to meet you, Rudolf.

Please call me Nathan.

Welcome to Prague, Nathan.

Thank you.

Larry Stern sends his best regards.

Thank you!

How is Larry doing?

He'’s good. He's good.

How was your flight?

Long.

-Hop into my limousine. -Thank you, sir.

[airplane soaring overhead]

♪

[engine starting]

♪

[seagulls calling]

♪

[bell tolling]

♪

[squawking]

♪

[engine rumbling]

Nathan, I'’ve arranged your dates with the writers

for later tonight.

Thank you.

What else brings you to Prague?

Having a well-spent time.

[Rudolf chuckles]

That'’s no problem,

even in occupied Prague.

Do you like orgies?

♪

I would think so.

♪

To be honest, um,

I'’m interested in the scene around Jerzy Klenek.

-Ah, Klenek. -Yeah.

Have rumors of his marvelous parties

made it to America too?

I would say so.

♪

Whoever wants to be someone in Prague goes there.

That'’s no problem.

Ever since the Russian invasion,

the best orgies in Europe are in Czechoslovakia.

[Nathan chuckles]

Less liberty,

better fucks.

♪

Call me when you'’re ready, I'’ll pick you up,

but don'’t call from the hotel.

♪

Everything'’s bugged.

[engine shuts off]

♪

There'’s a phone booth over there.

♪

Here'’s some change.

Okay.

Bye.

♪

Hi.

♪

Change money? Change money?

Sorry, no thanks.

♪

-Good afternoon. -Good afternoon.

[chatter]

Welcome to Prague, Mr. Zuckerman.

Thank you.

♪

[door closes]

[sighs]

♪

Why am I always saying to myself,

"Do not let yourself be stopped"?

Am I really here to strike a deal with a woman

who I don'’t know?

Or do I just want to struggle with myself?

♪

I appreciate the award, I really do, it'’s just...

You know, I don'’t want to talk about my books.

In my opinion, there should be a 100-year moratorium

on all literature talk.

Okay, Nathan Zuckerman, still, let me ask you a question.

The, uh, response to your latest book

has been tremendous.

Its, uh, hilarious treatment of sexual excess

has offended a lot of people,

and yet it'’s still at the top of the best seller list.

What do you say about this phenomenon?

Personally, I'’d be more surprised

if the response were mild indifference.

Right.

Are there any more questions?

Mr. Zuckerman, uh,

do you really regard sex as a battle between man

and a toothed vagina?

That is my ludicrous fate:

to be the opposite of the man that you say I am.

Thank you.

-Joe. -Thank you, Larry.

Since the Soviet occupation in 1968, you'’ve been helping

prohibited writers in Czechoslovakia.

Specifically, how does your work help them?

Many excellent Czechoslovakian writers

have been banned or forced into exile.

We try to support them.

We seek financial aid for them,

and we want to publish their work here.

Thank you.

Fascinating.

Uh, Nathan,

congratulations once again

and wishing you much more success.

Thank you, Larry, it'’s been a pleasure.

Thank you.

[applause]

[chatter]

♪

[she sighs]

I'’ve heard you're going to Prague?

Yeah, I'’m gonna meet a couple writers there.

I wouldn'’t recommend that, Zuckerman.

The situation in Czechoslovakia may be dangerous.

The regime'’s tightening its grip.

The Soviets are carrying out political purges there.

♪

I want you to meet someone.

Zdenek.

This may interest you, Nathan.

-Hello, Larry. -This is Eva.

Zdenek is a Czech writer.

He used to be well-recognized

till he fell out of the regime'’s favor.

Your novel is absolutely one of the five or six books

of my life.

-Zdenek Sisovsky. -Hi.

Eva Kalinova. We both originate from Prague.

-Very nice to meet you. -Nice to meet you.

I'’ve been watching the whole scandalous response

to your book.

It interests me because my own work

also had a scandalous response in Czechoslovakia.

Really?

And what was the scandal?

Please, I don'’t wish to compare our two books.

Yours is a work of genius, mine is nothing.

[laughs]

Not quite nothing.

It got you exiled.

You'’ll have to tell Nathan.

I gotta go. I'’ll give you a call.

Thank you very much.

-Nathan? -Yeah?

-Talk to my Czech friend. -Yeah, thanks, Larry.

♪

Walk with me?

Great idea.

Mr. Zuckerman, it would be a great honor

if you had lunch with us.

I will invite you.

Taxi.

Let'’s go.

Eva?

Thank you.

[car honking]

[siren wailing]

♪

Eva is a different case.

She has only hatred.

Hatred?

For what?

Well, for everyone who has betrayed you,

for everyone who has hurt you.

You hate them, and you wish they were dead.

I don'’t even think of them anymore.

You wish them to be tortured in hell.

I have forgotten them completely.

♪

I should like to tell you about Eva Kalinova.

Eva is Prague'’s great Chekhovian actress.

No one there will dispute it, not even the regime.

-Oh. -There is no Nina since hers,

no Irina, no Masha.

I don'’t want this.

All of the country has been in love with her.

Soon she will be acting again.

♪

To be an actress in America, you must speak English

that doesn'’t give people a headache.

Eva, sit down. Sit down.

Lots of outstanding actresses speak English with an accent,

and they give a headache to no one.

You cannot be on stage and speak English

that nobody can understand.

♪

Come on.

And I do not want to perform any more plays.

I had enough of being an artificial person.

I'’m glad to be finished with all my successes.

♪

Brezhnev has given me a chance to be an ordinary nobody.

♪

I sell dresses,

and dresses are needed more by people

than stupid, emotional, Chekhovian actresses.

♪

You must tell him about the Vice-Minister of Culture

and what happened with him after you left your husband.

-Please stop it. -No, no, no, Eva, please.

Tell me. Really, I'’m interested.

♪

[she sighs]

♪

-Thank you. -Thank you.

Well, and Eva is dismissed from the National Theatre.

The Vice-Minister is so pleased with himself

that he goes around boasting how he handled Sisovsky'’s whore.

Maybe he believes that when the news reaches Moscow,

the Russians will give him a medal for...

his cruelty and anti-Semitism.

Why do you persecute me?

I do not care to be an ironical character

in the Czech story.

Everything that happens in Czechoslovakia,

they say, "Pure Kafka,

pure Svejk."

I'’m sick of it.

What do you want to do at home alone?

Have a drink, Eva!

Try to enjoy life in the free world.

Okay, I understand, but Zuckerman is interested.

Sorry, I must go.

♪

You'’re gonna let her leave?

Eva.

Eva, wait, please.

Just come and sit down.

Why?

'’Cause I can't let you go like this.

♪

Don'’t let us draw you into our stories.

♪

[coins jingling]

[clicking]

[clears throat]

-Hello? -Rudolf!

Hi, it'’s Nathan.

-Hi. -How are things?

Everything'’s arranged.

I'’ll pick you up in half an hour, agreed?

Okay, bye.

♪

So, this is where you'’ll always find me.

Ah, it'’s very nice.

No, this way.

Welcome to my kingdom.

♪

-What, this is where you work? -Mm-hmm.

You, a brilliant theater director?

I have worked here as a janitor

since I was fired from the theater.

The menial work is done now by the writers

and the teachers and the construction engineers,

and the construction is run by the drunks and the crooks.

Half a million people have been fired from their jobs.

[scoffs]

[sighs]

Sisovsky, I didn'’t realize

on top of everything else that you'’re Jewish.

My father was a Jew, my mother was not.

He taught mathematics and was a writer.

He wrote hundreds of stories about Jews,

only he did not publish a single one.

My father didn'’t use Yiddish,

but he wrote his stories in Yiddish.

Unique stories about a long-forgotten world,

stories about homelessness and uprootedness.

♪

My father was killed before they started transporting Jews

from mixed marriages.

Oh, what happened to him?

Two drunk Nazis were having a fight.

He was out on the street with my older brother,

the yellow star on his coat, and out of nowhere,

one of the Nazis comes up to them and simply starts firing.

He shot them both,

my father and my brother as well.

What happened to your mother and to you?

My mother hid on a farm, and there I was born

two months later.

-So you never met your father? -No.

But his stories are the best I have ever read.

I am obsessed with the great Jewish writer

that might have been.

Do you have his stories with you here in New York?

No, they are in Prague with my books,

and my books in Prague are with my wife

who is also in Prague,

and my wife does not like me so much anymore.

[laughs]

I am afraid I will never see my father'’s stories again.

My mother goes to ask and my wife shows her

photographs of all my mistresses, naked.

[laughs]

These, too, I left behind in Prague

with my books, unfortunately.

Do you think she would destroy the stories?

No, no, she couldn'’t do that.

Olga is a writer, too, she loves literature.

In Czechoslovakia, she'’s very well known

for her writing, and for her drinking,

and for showing everybody her vagina.

[laughs]

You would like Olga.

Okay!

Actually, wait.

This is Olga.

♪

If you were to visit Prague, and I know you are going to,

and you were to meet my wife,

she would even give you my father'’s stories.

♪

You really think she would?

If she were to fall in love with you.

Sisovsky, what exactly are you suggesting here?

If you were to go about it the right way, of course.

She loves love.

She does anything for love.

And what'’s the right way, in your opinion?

Nathan, a great American writer,

famous, attractive, American genius

who does not practice the American innocence

to a shameless degree.

If he were to ask her for my father'’s stories,

Olga would give them to him.

The only thing is not to lay her too soon.

[laughs]

♪

You can do whatever you want in Klenek'’s.

No drugs, but plenty of whiskey.

You can fuck,

you can look at dirty pictures,

you can look at yourself in the mirror,

or you can do nothing.

All the best people are there.

Also the worst.

We'’re all comrades now.

Come to the orgy, Zuckerman.

You'’ll see the final stage of the revolution.

♪

You just need to be careful

'’cause his house is bugged everywhere.

[camera clicking]

♪

The secret police.

They are here all the time.

[doorbell ringing]

[door opens]

Like at your home.

♪

-Some wine for you. -Thank you.

[laughs]

♪

[laughter]

♪

♪

Here you can go alone.

Have a good time.

♪

You may have exaggerated

the depths of Prague'’s depravity.

This--this feels more like a museum.

Klenek lives in this palazzo, and he does what he wants.

Why is he so privileged?

♪

He'’s the son of a famous Art Nouveau painter,

and he'’s married a German baroness,

therefore he can travel, unlike the others.

[playing piano]

And he tells them things.

He might be a cop,

but no one tells him anything because everybody suspects that.

He may well be a double agent.

♪

So what'’s the point?

To be a double agent when everybody knows?

Exactly.

♪

[laughter]

[laughter]

[laughter]

[chatter]

That one,

over there,

he is a terrible abstract painter.

He made his best painting the day the Russians invaded us.

He painted over the street signs

so the tanks wouldn'’t know where they were.

[laughs]

He also has the longest prick in Prague.

[laughter]

♪

Sit down.

♪

[sighs]

That one over there.

That is Mr. Vodicka.

He is a very good writer,

an excellent writer, but everything scares him.

If he sees a petition, he passes out.

If he signs one, he takes it back immediately

and says to the government that he'’s sorry.

Apologizing for his confused beliefs,

hoping they will let him write again about his perversion.

Yeah, will they?

Of course not.

They will tell him to write a historical novel

about beer in Plzen.

[laughs]

♪

I know who you are.

♪

And you are who?

I don'’t know.

I don'’t even feel I exist.

Do I exist?

Neither do you, my dear, since you got fired from the theater.

Right?

♪

This one'’s Olga.

She has the best legs in Prague.

♪

She'’s showing them to you.

Right.

Otherwise she doesn'’t exist.

♪

Mr. Vodicka wants something from Olga.

♪

Who is Olga?

One of the most famous women in the country.

Olga wrote our love stories.

♪

She'’s Klenek's girlfriend,

and she organizes all these parties.

Her boyfriend, Klenek, looks after her.

Why does she need looking after her?

Olga!

Why do you need looking after?

[groans]

This is awful.

I hear only stories about myself tonight,

stories about who I fuck.

I would never fuck such people.

Why do you need looking after, Olga?

Because I'’m shaking

and frightened of everything.

Feel me shaking.

She'’s shaking.

I'’m frightened of him too.

[Nathan laughs]

Well, you don'’t act frightened.

Since I'’m frightened of everything, it'’s all the same.

♪

If I get into too much trouble,

you will marry me and take me to America.

Oh.

I will telegram you

and you will come and save me.

Do you know what Mr. Vodicka wants now?

He has a boy who has never seen a woman.

He wants me to show it to him.

Why are you in Prague?

Looking for Kafka?

The intellectuals all come here looking for Kafka,

but Kafka is dead.

They should be looking for Olga.

And what would they discover?

[he laughs]

♪

Are you planning to make love to anybody in Prague?

Let me know.

♪

It--there is Kouba.

♪

I can'’t be in this house with that Kouba.

Kouba is one of our great communist heroes.

It'’s surprising he'’s still in Prague.

-Really? -Not all our great

communist heroes who were in Italy with their girlfriends

when the Russians invaded bothered to return.

Do you know why?

At last they were free of their terrible wives.

♪

So...

why do you come to Prague?

You'’re not looking for Kafka,

and you don'’t want to fuck.

Fuck.

I love this word, "fuck."

Why don'’t we have this word, Rudolf?

[laughing]

Teach me.

Teach me how to say "fuck."

-This is a good fucking party. -Ah.

-I was really fucked. -Yes.

Wonderful word. Teach me about "fuck."

Um...shut the fuck up!

Beautiful! Shut the fuck up!

More, more.

Fuck it all, fuck everything!

Yes, yes, fuck it all, fuck everything,

and fuck everybody.

Fuck the world until it cannot fuck me anymore.

See?

-I learn fast. -Yeah, real fucking fast.

In America, I would be a famous writer like you.

[Nathan laughs]

He'’s afraid to fuck me.

Why is that? Why?

Why do you write this book about fucking

that makes you so famous

if you'’re afraid to fuck somebody?

♪

You hate fucking everybody or just me?

Everybody.

He'’s a gentleman, Olga.

He doesn'’t tell you the truth because you'’re so hopeless.

Why am I hopeless?

Because in America, the girls don'’t talk to him like that.

What do they say in America?

Teach me to be an American girl.

Well, first you would take your hand off my prick.

Oh, I see.

-Okay. -Okay.

Now what?

We would talk.

We would try to get to know each other.

Why?

I don'’t understand.

[laughing]

Talk about what, the Indians?

Yes, we would talk at length about the Indians.

It won'’t work without the Indians?

-No way, right? -No way.

Okay.

And then I put my hand on your prick?

That'’s right.

And then you fuck me.

That would be the way we would do it, yes.

America is a very strange country.

It'’s one of them.

[chuckling]

[snarls]

♪

But first, I want you to show me yours.

Olga, why do you want to see it?

♪

I don'’t, I've seen too many.

Vodicka wants it.

♪

Now I can already see the dicks at the cop shop

flourishing the photograph in front of my face

where all the boys meet

and threaten to jail me for pedophilia

if I don'’t cooperate.

Everywhere in this house, there are cameras.

On the street, someone is always snapping my picture.

Half the country is employed spying on the other half.

I am a rotten, degenerate, negativistic pseudo-artist,

and this will prove it.

This is how they destroy me.

Why do you do it then?

♪

It is too silly not to.

♪

[laughing]

Come on, guys.

Let'’s go.

I'’ll show it to him.

[laughing]

♪

Are cameras hidden here?

Klenek says only microphones.

Maybe in the bedrooms for the fucking,

but you go on the floor and turn off the lights.

Don'’t worry.

♪

Don'’t be scared.

You wanna fuck, fuck her on the floor.

♪

♪

♪

[door opens, closes]

♪

[laughter]

[laughter]

[sparkler crackling]

♪

[groans]

♪

All of us are going to drink ourselves to death here.

You get onto a streetcar at night

when the great working class is on its way home,

and the great working class smells like a brewery.

[chuckles]

How do you all live like this?

Human adaptability

is a great blessing.

♪

Oh! Where'’s Mr. Vodicka?

I have no idea.

I'’m afraid you have to get up, Olga.

-I'’m going now. -I come with you.

You must be patient.

Some pretty pussycat of 15 will surely show up.

[kicks]

And she will be worth it.

What are you afraid of?

You can'’t have such a freedom in New York.

But he doesn'’t want a girl of 15.

They are old whores by now.

He wants one who'’s 40.

Why do you act like this?

You come all the way to Czechoslovakia,

you take risks, and then you act like this.

-I will never see you again. -Yes, you will.

You'’re lying.

You will go back to those American girls

and talk about the Indians and fuck them.

Next time, you will tell me before

and I will study my Indian tribes.

Olga, Olga, please.

Have lunch with me tomorrow, okay?

I'’ll come, I'’ll get you right here.

But what about tonight?

Why don'’t you fuck me now?

[he sighs]

An imperialist agent with no license to fuck.

Why are you leaving me if you like me?

I don'’t understand.

You like me, don'’t you?

I do.

That'’s not enough.

Leave him alone.

He is a middle-class boy.

But this is a classless socialist society,

and you take no action.

Your American readers would be surprised

to see what a respectable and virtuous man you are.

Yes, yes, I am a quiet and polite spectator,

and I don'’t take my pants off in public.

All great international figures come to Prague

to see our oppression, but none of them will ever fuck.

Why is that?

Neither Sartre nor Simone de Beauvoir,

neither Heinrich Boll, Carlos Fuentes.

None!

You all think to sign a petition will save Czechoslovakia,

but what will save Czechoslovakia

would be to fuck Olga.

♪

Olga'’s drunk.

She'’s also crying.

Don'’t worry about her.

This is just Olga.

Come on.

♪

♪ Well, I don'’t want you ♪

♪

♪ To feel down and out and all alone ♪

♪

♪ Well, I don'’t want you ♪

♪

♪ To feel down and out and all alone ♪

♪

[muffled music playing]

♪

♪

♪ Well, I don'’t want you ♪

[chatter]

Nathan?

The people you wanted to see are probably expecting us.

We'’ll meet them in a beer hall.

Wait, wait, everyone will see us in a beer hall.

You sure?

But the police don'’t want any scandals in the public.

Are you really leaving?

♪

Now they will interrogate me about you.

For six hours, they will torture me with questions,

and I can'’t even tell them we fucked.

♪

[clapping]

♪

Is that what happens?

Their interrogations are not to be dramatized.

Of course they'’re interested in you,

but they don'’t need you to accuse people.

Will they interrogate you about me?

♪

If they'’ll ask me why you came to Czechoslovakia,

I'’ll tell them in plain terms.

Well, what will you say?

That you came here for the 15-year-old girls.

"Read his book," I'’ll tell them, "and you'’ll understand."

[laughter]

And don'’t worry about Olga.

She'’ll be all right.

She won'’t be alone.

I will not be all right.

I will see you tomorrow for lunch.

♪

Come on.

♪

[door slams]

Zuckerman,

marry me and take me away.

If you marry me, they must let me go.

This is the law, even they obey it.

You wouldn'’t have to fuck me,

you could fuck the American girls.

You wouldn'’t have to love me or even give me money.

And she would scrub your floors and iron your beautiful shirts.

Yes, yes, yes, I would iron your shirts all day long.

Yeah, that would be the first week.

Then would begin the second week

and the excitement of being Mr. Olga.

That isn'’t true.

I would leave him alone.

And then would begin the vodka

and then would begin the adventures.

Not in America, no.

Olga, in America, you would shoot yourself.

-I would shoot myself here. -Yeah?

-Yeah. -With what?

A tank!

Tonight.

I will steal a Russian tank

and I will shoot myself with it tonight.

-Fuck off. -Should we be letting her walk?

No, no.

Olga always does what she wants.

[kicks]

She was married to a promising writer,

but one day she found out he was cheating on her

with a famous actress,

and in her fury, she called the cops on him.

♪

[grunts]

[grunts, smacks]

♪

[groaning, panting]

[sobbing]

♪

[panting]

[clattering]

[moaning]

The problem is that Sisovsky always carries

a note from a doctor saying he'’s a psychiatric case.

Wait, so the authorities will leave him alone?

Well, he'’s got so-called legal confirmation

that he'’s crazy in the head

so he wouldn'’t have to do his military service.

The police read the note

and take him to the lunatic asylum,

and he was held there for a long time

before he was released.

That'’s Olga.

♪

♪

[water spraying]

♪

[laughter]

[chatter]

Vaculda and Havlicek are coming at 10,

unless they'’re in custody again.

I'’m pretty sure that guy over there

was watching us outside the hotel.

Oh.

Secret police, probably.

Secret?

There is nothing secret about it.

[chatter]

[Speaking Czech], this is Nathan Zuckerman.

-Vaclav. -Hi.

-Vaclav. -Great to meet you.

-And Ludvik. -Pleasure to meet you.

-Nice to meet you. -Come on, guys, let'’s sit down.

Thank you.

[groans]

It'’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,

both of you.

Here, where the literary culture is held hostage,

the art of narration flourishes by mouth.

In Prague, stories aren'’t simply stories.

Storytelling is the form their resistance has taken

against the coercion of the powers-that-be.

So, I, uh, I have your contracts from the publisher.

-You just need to sign it. -No.

Don'’t give it to me.

Put it on the bench, please.

[chatter]

So, Olga is studying the Indian tribes right now.

That'’s great, I happen to be an expert

in Indian tribes myself.

I know them as well.

Right.

Let'’s write them down.

We don'’t want to say a name twice.

Oh, yeah, yes, I have a pen.

Uh, here.

You start?

Yes, uh...

[clears throat]

The Apache.

The Mohicans.

Ah.

The Apalachee.

[writing]

The West Apalachee.

The East Apalachee.

No, those don'’t exist.

There are only the west ones.

So, the, um, Comanche.

The Cherokee.

[writing]

The Sioux.

Uh-huh.

The Huron people.

The Mohican people.

Zacatecas.

Ooh.

Good one.

Uh, the, uh...

the Hamentashen tribe.

Oh...

I don'’t know that one.

Okay, yeah, no, it'’s a Jewish cookie.

[laughing]

It'’s delicious, by the way.

[laughter]

[chatter]

Ludvik,

I think you also need to go to the toilet.

[laughter]

You must listen to this one, Nathan,

since you love stories so much.

Blecha was my best childhood friend.

He was always planning to be a famous poet, playwright.

One night, he got drunk

and admitted he was spying on me,

but he was a terrible writer.

Even they told him.

When they read his reports, they made no sense.

And that'’s how it went.

Blecha gave me half of his pay and everything was fine...

until they decided that he was such a good spy

that they should promote him.

After a long time, I met him again.

[laughing]

♪

[telephone ringing]

Hello?

This is your wife-to-be, good morning.

I'’m in the lobby, I'’m coming to your room.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

I'’ll come down.

I said lunch, not breakfast.

Why are you scared for me to visit you when I love you?

[chatter]

It'’s not the best idea for you to be in my room, you know that.

I'’m coming up.

You'’re gonna get yourself into trouble.

Not me.

[water running]

[coughs]

[knocking]

[sighs]

Prudence is not your strong point.

This I have never heard.

Why do you say this?

Hmm.

[groaning]

You must understand

that I'’m not marrying you for your money.

I'’m marrying you because you tell me

you love me at first sight.

And because at first sight, I love you.

You haven'’t slept.

How can I sleep

when I'’m thinking of our future?

Let'’s go somewhere for breakfast.

First...

...tell me...

you love me.

I love you.

Is this why you marry me?

For love?

What other reason could there be?

Sorry for my breath.

Tell me what you love most about me.

Your sense of reality.

No, you must not love me for my sense of reality.

You must love me for myself.

Tell me all the reasons you love me.

Yeah, at breakfast.

No, no, no.

Now.

I cannot marry a man

who I'’ve only just met

and risk my...happiness, my life,

by making...the wrong choice.

[paper tears]

I must be sure.

"You cannot trust Czech police to understand anything.

Even in Czech, you must speak clearly and slow and loud."

They are so stupid.

[he laughs]

I love your wit.

[paper crumples]

My beauty.

-I love your beauty. -My flesh.

I love your flesh.

♪

You love when we make love.

Indescribably.

♪

Clearly.

What means "indescribably," darling?

More than words can say.

It is much better fucking than with American girls.

It'’s the best.

♪

Let'’s go.

♪

Breakfast!

♪

[elevator dings]

[sighs]

Did you fuck anybody yet in Czechoslovakia?

No, Olga, I haven'’t,

though a few people here may yet fuck me.

Do you know why they bug these big hotels

and always above the bed?

Why?

They listen to foreigners fucking.

They want to hear how women come in different languages.

Zuckerman, teach me the words that American girls say.

♪

[blows, elevator dings]

[elevator opens]

-Just a moment. -Grazie.

Good morning, sir.

Excuse me.

Speak English. I want him to understand.

I want him to hear this insult in English.

-What'’s going on? -Tell him.

Tell him what you want.

Sir, the lady must show me her identity card.

It is regulation.

Why is it a regulation?

Tell him.

Foreign guests must register with a passport.

Czech citizen must show an identity card

if they visit the room.

Except if the Czech is a prostitute.

Then she doesn'’t have to show anything but money.

All right, here, I am a prostitute.

Here.

Here are 50 kroner.

Leave us in peace.

What are you doing?

-Okay. -Here.

Oh, here is a hundred.

♪

I need an identity card from madam, please.

♪

You know very well who I am.

I must register your number of identity card

in my ledger, madam.

Tell me, please,

why do you embarrass me like that

in front of my prospective husband?

Why do you try to make me ashamed of my nationality

in front of the man I love?

Look at him, look at how he dresses.

Look on his trousers.

He has buttons.

And not a little zipper like you.

Why do you try to give such a man second thoughts

about marrying a Czech woman?

[Nathan sighs]

I wish only to see her identity card, sir.

I will return it immediately.

Olga, enough, enough.

Do you see him?

Now he'’s disgusted.

Now he'’s thinking,

"Where are the fine old European manners?"

Madam, I will have to ask you to remain here

while I report you for failing to show your identity card.

Do that. Do that.

And I will report you for your breach of etiquette

toward a lady in a civilized country.

We will see which one they put in jail.

Calm down.

Show him the god damn card.

Go.

Call the police, please.

Call the authorities this minute.

In the meantime, we are going to have our breakfast.

Come my dear one, my darling.

Come.

-Sir? -Yes?

There is message for you.

Thank you.

Right.

[sighs]

"Mr. Zuckerman, I'’m a Czech student

with a deep interest in your writing.

I need to talk to you urgently.

Please leave word at the desk

when I can come.

Yours most respectfully, Oldrich Hrobek."

♪

[chatter]

No, I don'’t like this table.

We will sit here.

I'’m sorry, you can sit over there by the window.

This table is reserved.

For breakfast?

That'’s a fucking lie.

This honored guest from abroad and I

have the right not to sit where we do not like it.

Bon appétit.

[sighs]

Sorry.

So what now?

Olga, tell me, what'’s coming next.

I want eggs, poached eggs.

If I don'’t eat, I will faint.

Tell me, what was wrong with the first table?

Bugged.

Probably all are bugged.

Fuck it, I'’m too weak.

Fuck the whole thing.

[chatter]

What happened to you last night?

Call the waiter, please.

I'’m going to faint.

I'’m feeling sick.

I'’m going to the loo to be sick.

[sighs]

[vomits]

Mr. Zuckerman, please.

-Yeah? -I have tried to reach you

just now in your room.

I am Oldrich Hrobek.

You have received my note?

Yes, just a minute ago.

You must not stay in Prague.

If you do not leave immediately,

the authorities will harm you.

What?

Who wants to harm me?

How do you-- how do you know that?

They are building a case.

I studied at Charles University.

They forbade me to write my thesis about you.

They questioned my professor, they questioned me.

Building what case? I just--I just got here.

They told me you are here for espionage.

♪

What? For espionage?

You must leave today.

I'’m an American citizen.

That doesn'’t mean anything.

This is what the police have told me.

Many, many arrests are going to be made.

-Because of me? -Including you.

♪

Maybe they'’re just trying to scare you.

Mr. Zuckerman, there is more.

If you go to the train station,

I'’ll meet you in an hour.

It is at the top on the main street,

just to the left.

Don'’t trust anyone.

Are you sure about all this?

It'’s an honor to meet you.

I'’m sorry I interrupted, but I am a silly fan.

Goodbye, sir.

♪

[water running]

What a country.

You cannot even throw up in the loo

that someone does not write a report about it.

Okay, I want to have my breakfast now

with my international writer.

I'’m hungry.

Why don'’t we go somewhere else?

I want to talk to you about something serious.

What will you have?

Poached eggs for two, coffee,

and a cigar for the gentleman.

Domestic or Cuban?

Cuban, of course.

Olga, I smoke a cigar once every decade.

You must here.

I was in the wine bar last night

because you would not be with me.

After some time, two men come up to me

and start buying me drinks.

We drink and then they say,

"How would you like to take a ride?"

Not to question me but just to have a good time.

I thought, "Don'’t be afraid.

Don'’t show them that you are afraid."

So I said, "Let'’s go, boys."

[car doors slamming]

[dog barking]

♪

[door unlocks, squeaks open]

♪

[gates clanging]

♪

[door creaks closed]

It slowly dawns on me that something is wrong here.

They cannot even wait for me to drink.

[panting]

♪

One of them takes out his prick

and tries to pull me down on it.

I feel him with my hand and I say to him,

"But this is technically impossible with this.

You could never come with something so soft."

[laughs]

♪

Ah--ah.

Huh?

♪

[whimpers]

♪

[speaking Czech]

♪

♪

Thank you.

Probably they got scared they would be in for it.

If their little instruments had worked,

it may have turned out badly.

[Nathan scoffs]

Ah, you'’re playing fire, Olga.

[Nathan scoffs]

♪

Light up.

[strikes match]

♪

Why am I smoking so obediently at 8:30 a.m.?

I don'’t feel like smoking at all.

You must finish the cigar, Zuckerman.

♪

[Nathan clears throat]

♪

I will finish the cigar

if you give me the stories

that Sisovsk left behind.

I met your husband in New York.

He asked me to come get the stories.

What?

What?

That swine.

Look, I didn'’t want to spring this on you

out of the blue, Olga, but I have been advised

not the hang around much longer in this country.

Wait, you, uh...

You met that monster in New York?

Yes.

[chatter]

And his ingénue?

You have met her too?

Did she tell you how much she suffers

from all the men at her feet?

Did he tell you with her it'’s never boring lovemaking

because she'’s fragile like a virgin?

So, this is why you are here.

Not for Kafka, but for him.

I'’m taking those stories to America.

So he can make money out of his dead father.

So he can buy jewelry for her.

Now in New York too.

He left us all for that whore.

What'’s she doing in New York?

Still playing Nina in The Seagull?

-I wouldn'’t think so. -Why not?

Our leading Czech actress who ages but never grows up.

Poor little star, always in tears.

How much did he flatter you to make you fall for it?

So that'’s why you're here.

Because you took pity on two homeless Czechs.

Take pity on me.

I am at home and it is worse.

I see that.

And you believe all those stories he tells?

I did.

Only people like you can believe them.

Let me have those manuscripts.

What good do they do anybody here?

[silverware clatters]

Olga--

The good of not being there

doing good for him and this terrible actress.

You cannot even hear her if you sit 10 rows back.

You can never hear her.

She'’s stinking actress who has ruined Chekhov

for Prague for last hundred years.

For all her stinkin'’ sensitive poses.

And now she will ruin Chekhov for New York.

[sighs]

So...he wants to live off of his dead father?

The hell with him.

Let him live off of his actress,

if anybody can even hear her.

♪

Olga!

♪

Olga!

[chatter]

♪

[loudspeaker announcement]

[baby crying]

♪

[chatter]

♪

♪

♪

[whistle blast]

♪

♪

♪

Bolotka told me half a million people

have been fired from their jobs.

I imagine Styron washing glasses

in a Penn Station barroom.

Susan Sontag wrapping buns at a Broadway bakery.

♪

I look at the filthy floor and I see myself sweeping it.

[distant whistle]

♪

♪

[panting]

♪

♪

[door closing tone]

♪

♪

[door closing tone]

♪

[door closing tone]

♪

I'’m sorry I'm late, Rudolf.

Something happened. I was followed.

I--I shook him before I got here.

I hope I wasn'’t wrong to come here anyway.

What happened?

A student came to visit me at the hotel.

He gave me this note.

He was terrified,

he was whispering that I was in danger,

that he and his professor were questioned by the police.

And he asked me to meet him.

It occurred to me that he might also be a cop,

but then I saw him getting arrested

at the train station.

♪

They were only frightening him and his teacher.

♪

If so, they succeeded

and they scared the shit out of me too.

[liquid pouring]

This is to calm down and warm up.

It'’s the law of power,

the spreading of general distrust.

The basic techniques of adjusting people.

But they cannot touch you.

Well, if you'’re right,

then by coming to my hotel

the student made things much worse for himself

and for his teacher too.

I can'’t say.

Both options could be true.

He could be a provocateur and his arrest

maybe just play acting for you.

Or he can be a naive student.

Jesus Christ.

Mm!

Don'’t be tender about his martyr complex.

They have to let the boy go anyway.

You know, of course the hotel clerk is a cop.

Everyone is in that hotel.

But the police are like literary critics.

The little they see they get mostly wrong.

And our literary criticism is police criticism.

So, what--

so we'’re not gonna do anything about this warning?

I'’m relying on you.

Rudolf, when you come to New York,

I'’ll see that you're not mugged in Central Park

by going to take a leak at 3:00 a.m.

I expect the same consideration from you here.

I mean, am I in danger?

Forget the student, Nathan.

Anything you want to see in Prague,

anything you want to do in Prague,

anyone you want to fuck in Prague,

you come to me and I'’ll arrange it.

[Nathan scoffs]

You know, I hesitate to say Prague is gay,

but sometimes these days could be pretty amusing.

Do you think you can find out where I can see Olga tonight?

Okay.

♪

[chatter]

♪

Hello, Olga.

♪

This is my almost fiancé,

but he can only write about sex.

He is an American agent with no license to fuck.

[chuckling]

♪

Olga, can I-- can I ask you to dance?

I mean, if your friends don'’t mind.

♪

If you keep shouting that I'’m an agent,

I'’m gonna wake up in jail tomorrow.

If you don'’t want to wake up with me,

then you wake up in a jail.

♪

Okay, let'’s both stop playing games, okay?

Why do you care about those stories so much?

Because I'’m a foolish American.

I don'’t even know if the stories are any good.

♪

So?

♪

So maybe I just want to save something

from the Old World.

I see.

You want to be a hero.

♪

No, I really don'’t.

So you want to succeed?

♪

Yes, yes, of course I do.

Succeed then.

Wait, wait.

Olga, wait.

Listen.

♪

All right, maybe there is something more to it, okay?

Maybe I...

♪

Maybe I feel like I have a debt.

♪

You have a weak spot for the persecuted.

Yes, I do.

So you have a hang-up

that you haven'’t suffered enough.

♪

I'’m not the one to nurse you through your hang-ups.

♪

All right.

♪

Prague fascinated me.

After one day, it seemed to me a city

that I'’d known all my life.

This is the city I imagined during the war'’s worst years,

when as a nine-year-old Hebrew school student

I would solicit for the Jewish National Fund.

This is the city I imagined the Jews should acquire one day.

A city with soot-blackened bridges,

shadowy, cramped streets,

where one would hear endless stories being told.

Funny tales and anxious stories of suffering and flight.

Stories of fantastic endurance

and of pitiful collapse.

♪

[rings doorbell]

♪

[knocks]

I thought you would show up.

Come in.

Take off your coat.

It'’s robe day today.

♪

Do you want to join?

Uh, thank you but no.

Uh, I came to see you.

♪

Come in.

[singing in Czech]

♪

You'’re afraid to marry an alcoholic.

[chuckles]

I would love you so much I wouldn'’t drink.

And you'’d give me the stories as your dowry.

Maybe.

Where are the stories?

Oh, I don'’t know.

Sisovsk left them with you.

And when his mother came to try to get them,

you showed her photographs of his mistresses.

Oh, poor mother.

She didn'’t like them very much.

They were pictures of their cunts.

Hm.

Do you think they were so different from mine?

Do you think theirs were prettier?

Look.

Theirs were exactly the same.

You have the stories here.

Let'’s go to the American Embassy

and get married.

And then you'’ll give me the stories.

More than likely.

Mm, I want them now.

I'’m asking you again.

What are you getting out of it?

A headache and a look under your robe.

So you'’re doing it for idealistic reasons.

You do it for literature.

For altruism.

You are a great American, great humanitarian.

I'’ll give you $10,000.

Hm.

I could use $10,000.

Mm-hm.

But there is no amount of money you could give me.

And you don'’t care about literature.

I love literature, but not as much as I love

to keep these things from Sisovsk .

Do you really think that I'’m going to give you

the stories so he can keep her in jewels?

You really think that in New York

he'’s gonna publish the stories

under his father'’s name?

-Why shouldn'’t he? -Zuckerman.

If you would make as great a sacrifice for literature

as you expect of me,

we would be married 20 minutes already.

♪

Okay.

♪

$15,000.

Oh, do you find me so unattractive?

[laughter]

♪

Wow.

♪

You are an impressive character, Olga.

♪

In your own way, you are fighting to live.

♪

Look, dear one.

You want a ticket out of Czechoslovakia.

Mm.

Maybe I want you, dear one.

What if I get someone to marry you?

Am I so terrible that I can only marry

one of your queer friends?

Fuck.

[Olga giggles, Nathan sighs]

♪

How do I wrest these stories from you?

♪

Olga, just--just tell me.

♪

♪

Is whatever Sisovsk did so terrible

that his dead father must suffer too?

Oh, believe me.

When the stories are published without his name,

the father will suffer more.

♪

Okay, suppose that doesn'’t happen.

Suppose I make that impossible.

You will outtrick Zdenek?

I will contact The New York Times

and I will tell them the whole story.

[Olga scoffs]

So that'’s what you get out of it.

That'’s your idealism.

That marvelous Zuckerman

brings from behind the Iron Curtain

200 unpublished Yiddish stories

written by a victim of a Nazi bullet.

♪

You will be a hero to all of the free world.

On top of your millions of dollars

and millions of girls,

you will win the American Prize for Idealism about Literature.

And what will happen to me?

♪

You don'’t know.

I'’ll tell you.

♪

I will go to prison for smuggling a manuscript

to the West.

They won'’t know that the stories came through you.

♪

You get the idealism prize.

He gets the royalties.

She gets the jewelry.

And I get seven years for the fuckin'’ sake

of literature.

♪

You don'’t have to give me money.

♪

You don'’t have to find a queer to be my husband.

♪

You don'’t even have to fuck me

if I am such a revolting woman.

♪

To fuck and to be fucked

is the only freedom left in this country.

♪

He can even print the story in his own name,

your friend Sisovsk .

No.

I will never let that happen.

The hell with him, the hell with everything.

He will flourish, thanks to his dead father.

So will she.

And in return, I want nothing.

♪

Only that when he asks,

"How much did you have to give her?

How much money and how many fucks?"

♪

Tell him the truth.

♪

Room 26, please.

Mr. Zuckerman.

26.

-Here you go. -Thank you.

-Take care. -Sir?

Hello, sir?

Sir?

Your coat.

What?

♪

Oh, thank you.

-Goodbye. -Bye.

♪

[knocking on door]

♪

[knocking intensifies]

Hey!

Hey, what is going on?

You can'’t just unlock the door yourself.

The gentlemen wish to examine your belongings, sir.

Why?

They say somebody has mislaid something

that you may have by mistake.

[stammers]

Gentlemen, my belongings are none of your business.

I am afraid you are wrong.

That is precisely their business.

And you, what'’s your business?

I merely work at the reception desk.

It is not just intellectuals who can be sent to the mines.

I demand to call the U.S. Embassy.

You'’d better pack your bags, sir.

You will be driven to the airport.

[speaking in Czech]

And put on the next flight from Prague.

You are no longer welcome in Czechoslovakia.

I want to speak to the American Ambassador.

You can'’t confiscate my belongings

and there are no grounds to expel me.

Sir.

These two gentlemen have no trouble believing

that what they do is right and necessary.

Brutally necessary.

I'’m afraid that any sort of delay

will cause them to be much less lenient

than you would like.

Look.

That box contains stories written by somebody

who'’s been dead for over 30 years.

It'’s fiction from a world that no longer even exists.

It is no possible threat to anyone.

There is nothing a clerk in a Prague hotel

can do for any writer, living or dead.

Okay, for the third time,

I demand to speak to the Embassy.

Sir, if you don'’t immediately pack your bags

and prepare to leave,

you will be taken to jail.

[scoffs]

Well, how do I know you won'’t just take me to jail anyway?

♪

[keys jingling]

I suppose you will have to trust the gentlemen.

♪

Ah, Mr. Zuckerman.

Will you be paying by cash or check?

♪

By check.

♪

I trust everything was all right

and that your stay with us was satisfactory.

♪

Are you fucking kidding me?

♪

Jesus.

♪

Hey, hey, that is not necessary.

Hey.

What are you doing?

♪

Hello, my suitcase?

Are you gonna put my bags in the car, please?

[engine revving]

♪

Novak, Hiyam Novak.

Do you know Betty MacDonald?

Um, I--I don'’t.

You don'’t?

No.

You don'’t know Miss Betty MacDonald?

Well, now I'’m guilty of conspiring

against the Czech people with somebody

named Betty MacDonald.

I'’m sorry, I don't-- I don'’t know her.

But she'’s the author of The Egg and I.

Ah.

Yes, uh, about, uh, a farm, wasn'’t it?

Yeah.

I haven'’t read that since I was a school boy.

But it is a masterpiece.

Ah.

Well, I can'’t say it'’s considered

a masterpiece in America.

I'’d be surprised if anybody in America under 30

has even heard of The Egg and I.

I cannot believe it.

Well, it'’s true.

It'’s, uh...

Is this the way to the airport?

There is no paranoia here about writers.

I didn'’t say that there was.

I am a writer.

A successful writer.

Nobody is paranoid about me.

♪

Ours is the most literate country in Europe.

Our writers are loved.

The country looks to them for moral leadership.

♪

I am the Minister of Culture.

♪

Well, it'’s very kind of you, Mr. Minister,

to see me out personally, but, um...

♪

This is the road to the airport?

Frankly, I don'’t recognize...

♪

You should have taken the time to come see me

when you first arrived.

♪

We would understand that the ordinary Czech citizen

is nothing like the sort of people

you have chosen to meet.

He does not behave like them

and he does not admire them.

Who are they?

Sexual perverts.

Alienated neurotics.

Bitter egomaniacs.

They seem to you courageous?

You find it thrilling,

the price they pay for their great art?

[chuckles]

At least their blessed Kafka knew he was a misfit.

But these people, incorrigible deviants.

♪

[sighs]

♪

Do you know what?

Comrade Brezhnev arranged for our great reform leader

Dubcek in '’68.

Brezhnev sent thousands of troops to Prague

to bring Dubcek back to his senses.

♪

Get out.

What?

Hey!

Hey, get your hands off.

Wait, wait, wait.

I have committed no crime.

You have committed several crimes,

each punishable by sentences of up to 20 years in jail.

I--I demand right now that you take me

to the American Embassy.

Let me tell you what Brezhnev told Mr. Dubcek

that Mr. Bolotka neglected to say

while elucidating on the size of his sexual organ.

One, he would deport

our Czechoslovakian intelligentsia

en masse to Siberia.

Two, he would turn Czechoslovakia

into a Soviet republic.

Three, he would make Russian

the official language in schools.

In 20 years, nobody would even remember

that such a country as Czechoslovakia

had ever existed.

Those Czechs who inflamed the anger

of our mighty neighbor are not patriots,

they are the enemy!

There is nothing praiseworthy about them.

Like when your lesbian whore opened her legs,

and for an American writer it represents

the authentic Czech experience.

Real heroes distinguish between

what is possible in a little country

and what is just a stupid, maniacal delusion.

The true Czech spirit is represented

in people who know how to submit decently

to their historical misfortune.

These are the people to whom we owe

the survival of our beloved land.

Not to alienated, degenerate, egomaniacal artists.

Suddenly, you are scared, Mr. Zuckerman.

Aren'’t you?

Let'’s go.

[car doors shutting]

[engine starts]

[sighs]

♪

[vehicle approaching]

[tires screech]

Whoa-whoa.

Whoa. Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa.

Whoa-whoa-whoa, hey, hey, hey.

Come on. Let--let go of me!

Let me go!

♪

[engine revving]

♪

[loudspeaker announcement]

♪

You have been placed on Swissair to Geneva.

♪

And from there to New York.

♪

A keepsake.

In case you'’re bored on your flight.

♪

♪

I was not arrested.

I will not be tried, convicted, or jailed.

Yet it makes you furious to be thrown out

once the fear has begun to subside.

♪

I wanted to see Kafka'’s city,

and by coincidence I found something

more important.

I can'’t stop thinking about this country

where there'’s no nonsense about purity and goodness,

where the division between the heroic and the perverse

is not that easy to discern.

Where every sort of repression

ferments a parody of freedom

and the suffering of their historical misfortune

engenders in its victims

these bizarre forms of human despair.

♪

I don'’t know if my theatrical friend Olga

changed her mind and called the cops

or if they called for her.

Worst of all, I'’ve lost that astonishingly real candy box

stuffed with stories.

Another Jewish writer who might have been

is not going to be.

Another assault upon a world of significance,

degenerating into a personal fiasco.

And this time, in a record 48 hours.

♪

[door shuts]

Hi, I'’m looking for Eva.

Eva?

She is over there.

Thank you.

[distant horn blares]

Excuse me, [speaking Czech]

Mr. Writer.

Hello, Eva.

I tried calling Sisovsk ,

but he'’s not answering his phone.

Is he in New York?

I don'’t know where he is.

You don'’t know?

He'’s taken the big American road to success now.

Is he?

Well, he didn'’t tell me anything.

I'’d really like to talk to him.

I'’ve--I've just returned from Prague.

Oh.

Now you are full of Prague.

Full of compassion.

I wasn'’t successful.

[scoffs]

You really went there for those stories?

Mm-hm.

Zdenek begged everyone for that,

but you are the only one who obliged.

You are naive.

So where is he?

In California.

In Hollywood.

Huh.

Where can I find him there?

I don'’t know, all I know is that he is gone.

And you stay here on your own.

It'’s better this way.

Everybody has what they want.

Zdenek does, I do, and so do you.

Really?

Do I?

What you have is much better than Zdenek'’s father's stories.

Now you have one of your own.

You have your own adventure in Prague.

♪

Tomorrow you will sit at your beautiful desk,

you will start making notes,

and your powerful masterpiece

will soon appear on the Best Seller list.

♪

You have your great book and I have my dresses.

♪

Please excuse me, I have customers.

♪

Good luck with your new marvelous story,

Mr. Zuckerman.

♪

[bell chimes]

[loudspeaker announcement]

[air traffic humming]

May I see the gentleman'’s papers, please?

Ah, yes, Nathan Zuckerman.

The Zionist agent.

[air traffic humming]

An honor to have entertained you here, sir.

Now back to the little world around the corner, huh?

[panting]

♪

♪

♪

♪ Making love, you'’re in my mind ♪

♪ How soon will you be mine ♪

♪

♪ Come to me, I'’ll comfort you ♪

♪ Please be open tonight

♪

♪ Flesh and blood is what I give ♪

♪ You'’ll find me unprepared ♪

♪ There is a bird of prey at night ♪

♪ Come lie with us in bed

♪ River of Christ

♪ I just take what must be mine ♪

♪ Surrender to our free fall

♪ We will fly

♪ Fly

♪ River of Christ

♪ What you see is not your fault ♪

♪ Not your fault

♪ May this be our last song when we fall ♪

♪

♪ Night alone is not to be

♪ I'’ll take your beating heart ♪

♪ Change it into what will become ♪

♪ My fear, my flesh and blood ♪

♪ I'’ll take the bird of prey tonight ♪

♪ And show it how to fly

♪ River of Christ

♪ I'’ll just take what must be mine ♪

♪ Surrender to our free fall

♪ We will fly

♪ River of Christ

♪ What you see is not your fault ♪

♪ Not your fault

♪ May this be our last song when we fall ♪