Original subtitles

Central Partnership

Central Partnership presents

Halt!

A Kolibri Studio production

Sergei KOLTAKOV

Get them out!

Sergei GOROBCHENKO

One, two, three, one, two, three!

Yelena LYADOVA

Anatoliy BELIY

Viktoria ISAKOVA

Alexander GOLUBEV

Pavel DEREVYANKO

In a Yury Moroz film

THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV

Based on the novel by F.M. Dostoyevsky

Screenplay: Alexander CHERVINSKY

Director of photography: Nikolai IVASIV R.G.C.

Artistic directors: Yekaterina KOZHEVNIKOVA, Marat KIM

Halt!

Composer: Henri LOLASHVILI

New Russia State Symphonic Orchestra Conductor: Yury BASHMET

Sound director: Marina NIGMATULINA

Make-up: Marina FIRSOVA, Olga UIKOLAEVA

Forward march!

Move!

Part Eight

It is absolutely imperative that you should give an explanation.

Ex-Lieutenant Karamazov, it is my duty to inform you

that you are charged with the murder of your father, Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov,

perpetrated this night.

I'm not guilty of that blood!

I meant to kill him. But I'm not guilty.

Not I.

It was my fault! Mine! My wickedness!

I tortured him and drove him to it.

I tortured that poor old man that's dead, too, and brought him to this!

It's my fault

Yes, it's your fault!

You're the chief criminal! You fury!

This is absolutely irregular, Mihail Makarovitch!

You're ruining the case.

Judge us together!

Punish us together. I will go with him now, if it's to death!

Follow the regular course! Follow the regular course!

Grusha, my life, my holy one!

- Gentlemen. - Calm down. Have a seat.

Don't believe her.

She's not guilty of anything.

What are you staring at?

Fall out!

So you declare that you are not guilty of the death of your father.

I am guilty of the blood of Grigory.

And I weep for it!

Not of my father's blood.

It's a terrible accusation.

You need not worry yourself about the old servant, Grigory.

He is alive, in spite of the terrible blows inflicted.

- Alive? - Yes.

There seems no doubt that he will live, so the doctor says.

Alive?

Lord, I thank Thee for the miracle.

- One minute, gentlemen. - At this moment it's quite impossible.

Gentlemen, just one minute.

I wanted to tell her that it has been washed away.

I am not a murderer now!

Calm down!

Gentlemen, you have given me new life.

That old man used to wash me in the tub.

He used to carry me in his arms when I was a baby three years old.

He was like a father to me.

Do you find yourself guilty?

Let me have a moment to think.

Let me breathe.

A man is not a drum.

Gentlemen, I am drunk a little.

There's a horrible suspicion hanging over me.

Horrible!

I will prove it to you. We can put an end to it in a minute.

So, we will write that you absolutely deny the charge brought against you.

Write it:

Of disorderly conduct I am guilty, of violence on a poor old man I am guilty.

At the bottom of my heart I am guilty.

But that you need not write down.

That doesn't concern you.

Be calm, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.

But of the murder of my old father. That's a wild idea.

I will prove you that.

You'll laugh yourselves at your suspicion!

You were involved in disputes with him.

You wanted to kill him.

That may be so.

I nearly killed him.

If not I, who can it be, who?

Gentlemen, I understand you.

I'm struck.

Where was he murdered?

How was he murdered?

We found him, lying on his back on the floor, with his head battered in.

What was it that impelled you to this sentiment of hatred?

Jealousy?

Yes, jealousy. Not only jealousy.

Disputes about money?

Yes, about money, too.

A dispute about three thousand, which you claimed as part of your inheritance?

More than six thousand.

More than ten, perhaps.

But I made up my mind to let it go at three thousand.

I was desperately in need of that three thousand.

So that three thousand that I knew he kept under his pillow, ready for Grushenka,

I looked upon it as mine, as my own property.

You will allow us to note that point and write it down ;

that you looked upon that money as your own property?

I'm not afraid of facts and I tell them against myself.

Mitenka!

Follow the regular course!

Mitya!

Calm down!

Please, be calm, Dmitri Fyodorovitch!

Forgive me, Agrafena Alexandrovna, this is my fault.

Mihail Makarovitch, let me see him.

That was not him who killed his father.

Let me tell him just a word!

Forgive me, gentle soul, you cannot see him!

Tell him to be calm and comforted about me.

Gentlemen, allow me...

Dmitri Fyodorovitch, Agrafena Alexandrovna sent me to tell you

to be calm.

Mihail Makarovitch, this is against all the rules!

She is smart, kind. Forgive me.

Mihail Makarovitch, what are you doing? Ippolit Kirillovitch, you must do something!

So what should I tell her?

Will you be calm?

Yes, I will be calm!

You've the heart of an angel, Mihail Makarovitch.

Tell her, I will be cheerful.

I shall be laughing in a minute.

I shall have done with all this, and as soon as I'm free, I'll be with her.

Let her wait.

Gentlemen, I see I'm with honorable men.

I'll open my whole soul to you.

She loves me.

She's proud and has done nothing!

I'm an ugly brute. How can she love me?

Now I am comforted. I am at your disposal, gentlemen.

You don't know how you encourage us, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, by your readiness.

We on our side, will do everything in our power.

Gentlemen, only let me tell my own story.

Excellent! Go on.

But before we proceed, allow me to inquire a little fact of great interest to us.

Is it truth, that before the murder, you were pennyless,

and you borrowed ten roubles from Pyotr Ilyitch Perhotin?

I pledged them for ten roubles.

As soon as I got back to town I pledged them.

You had been out of town?

When and where?

I went to a merchant called Lyagavy.

To borrow three thousand roubles.

Three thousand?

Why three thousand?

Gentlemen, you needn't go into details.

Why were you in such pressing need for just that sum, three thousand?

To pay a debt.

To whom?

That I absolutely refuse to answer.

It's all a paltry matter.

I wanted to pay a debt of honour.

Allow me to make a note, you refuse to answer this question.

By all means.

You've nothing else to do with your time.

You have a perfect right not to answer the questions.

But it is our duty,

to explain you the degree of injury you will be doing yourself by doing that.

Gentlemen!

Go on, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.

So you came to borrow three thousand roubles.

Did you get it from him?

So you didn't succeed in borrowing three thousand roubles,

neither from the merchant Lyagavy, nor from Madame Hohlakov.

Yes, I didn't succeed.

Make a note of that.

Do you confirm you didn't have other money with you?

Write it down!

Write it down.

Gentlemen, that's enough to make an angel out of patience!

That is not that important.

When I left Hohlakov, I was about to murder someone,

but only to find that three thousand roubles.

Will you write down the word ''murder''?

Do you recognize this object?

Damn it!

You took this object before you visited your father.

What object had you in view in arming yourself with such a weapon?

What object? No object. I just picked it up and ran off.

But still...

Oh, to keep off dogs.

Because it was dark. In case anything turned up.

Have you ever on previous occasions taken a weapon with you when you went out?

There's positively no talking to you!

Write down at once:

'I snatched up the pestle to go and kill my father by hitting him on the head with it! '

Now are you satisfied?

Are your minds relieved?

So you were standing with that pestol near an open window of your father.

And what happened then?

Then?

Then I murdered him.

Hit him on the head and cracked his skull.

I suppose that's your story.

Our story? And what is your story?

My story? Well, was like this.

Grusha.

Grusha.

Agrafena!

My little girl.

Where are you?

Grushenka! My precious Grusha!

Thank God. Agrafena!

Agrafena Alexandrovna!

What a scoundrel!

Scoundrel!

Whether it was someone's tears, or my mother prayed to God, I don't know.

But the devil was conquered.

I rushed from the window and ran to the fence.

You don't believe one word.

What makes you think that?

I have come to the vital point.

How I wanted to kill him, and how I snatched up the pestle.

I suddenly run away from the window.

As though one could believe my word.

A romance! Poetry!

Did you notice when you ran away from the window, whether the door was open?

What door?

The door of the house. Was it open?

Did you find the door open?

Yes.

Who could have opened it?

That is what we want to know.

The murder was committed not through the window.

That was in the room.

That is absolutely certain from the position of the body.

The murderer went in at that door

and, having accomplished the crime, went out again by the same door.

But that's utterly impossible!

I didn't go in.

No one knew the signals except Smerdyakov, and me.

He wouldn't have opened the door to anyone in the world without the signals.

What signals?

These signals.

The father opened the door after them.

And Smerdyakov told me about them.

So no one knew about the signals except Smerdyakov, and you?

Heaven knew, too.

Write down about Heaven.

But if that's true,

was it not Smerdyakov, who induced your father to open to him,

and then committed the crime?

Smerdyakov?

He's a puling chicken.

What motive had he for murdering the old man?

He's his natural son. Do you know that?

We have heard that legend.

But you are your father's son, too, yet you told everyone you meant to murder him.

That's a thrust!

I told you that myself.

I didn't murder him, my guardian angel saved me.

It's mean.

What has he told you?

Smerdyakov, I mean?

May I ask that question?

We found the servant Smerdyakov, lying unconscious.

In an epileptic fit of extreme severity.

If that's so, the devil must have killed him.

We know you are tired, and we will let you have some rest, but before...

Tell us about the pistols.

Why did you need them?

To put a bullet in my brain in the morning.

I had a note in my pocket already.

I wrote it at Perhotin's. Read it.

When you came to Mr. Perhotin, your had blood-stained hands.

You were not afraid then of arousing suspicion?

I didn't care, gentlemen.

I should have shot myself, and you wouldn't have been in time to do anything.

If my father hadn't been murdered, you wouldn't have come here.

When you came to Mr. Perhotin, you held a bundle of hundred-rouble notes.

- Is that true? - Yes.

Can you inform us, where did you get so much money?

No, I cannot.

- But, Mr. Karamazov... - That's enough.

I understand that it is of vital importance.

But still I won't tell you.

You are doing yourself harm.

I knew that would happen.

But I cannot say.

Can you not, at least, tell us what sum you had in your hands?

Enough.

Then allow me to request you

to lay on the table all the money you still have about you.

Here's money. Count it.

Mitya, bring the basin. Can't you see?

You spent three hundred roubles at Plotnikovs'.

You gave Perhotin ten, your driver twenty.

You lost two hundred.

They gave to Maximov twenty-five roubles.

And twenty-five to Maximov.

Total is about fifteen hundred.

I suppose so.

But you said you brought three thousand with you.

Yes I did.

Where is the rest?

I have to conduct a search of your clothes.

By all means.

I'll turn out all my pockets.

It will be necessary to take off your clothes, too.

Take it off?

Ugh! Damn it!

Won't you search me as I am?

It's utterly impossible.

Undress?

Right here?

Let me do it behind the curtains.

You can go behind the curtains.

Must I take off my shirt, too?

I ask you for the second time - need I take off my shirt or not?

We will tell you what to do.

You are looking for money?

You treat me as a thief.

Not as an officer.

What is it here?

Blood.

Blood.

Blood.

Ippolit Kirillovitch, take a look.

You must take off your shirt, too. And meanwhile take off your socks.

- You're not joking? - We are in no mood for joking.

Let the witness sign the report of the search.

Am I to stay naked like this?

Here are clothes for you.

This is Trifon Borissovitch's.

I won't have other people's clothes! Give me my own.

It's impossible!

Your clothes must be included with the other material evidence.

Well, what now? Are you going to flog me?

That's all that's left for you.

Having received from you refusal to explain to us

the source from which you obtained the money found upon you,

we are, at the present moment-

What is the stone in your ring?

Ring?

Yes, that one, on your middle finger.

With the little veins in it.

What stone is that?

That's a smoky topaz.

Would you like to look at it?

I'll take it off.

Don't you understand, if I had really killed my father,

I would shuffle, lie, and hide myself?

- But Dmitri Fyodorovitch. - Why are you torturing me?

The man who went in at that door killed him.

But it was not me.

We have a witness, who saw it was you.

What witness?

Wounded by you Grigory.

Before he saw you running to the fence,

he saw the door open.

Nonsense!

Confront him with it.

Do you recognise this object?

It must be that envelope of my father's.

And the inscription 'For my little chicken'.

Do you see, three thousand, do you see?

Of course, we see. But we didn't find the money in it.

It was empty, and lying on the floor.

It's Smerdyakov!

It must be him!

But you, too, knew of the envelope.

I never knew where it was hidden.

But you told us that the envelope was under your deceased father's pillow.

Nonsense!

It was just a chance guess that it was under the pillow.

Only Smerdyakov knew where the envelope was.

You must arrest him now!

He must have killed him while I was running away.

He gave the signal and father opened to him.

Without the signal father would never have opened the door.

There was no need to give the signal.

The door already stood open.

The door. It was open.

It's absurd, gentlemen!

God is against me!

You can judge for yourself, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.

On the one hand is the door,

On the other side, your incomprehensible silence with regard to the money.

You accuse us of being 'frigid, cynical',

who are incapable of believing in the generous impulses of your heart.

Try to enter into our position.

How can we believe you?

Very well.

I will tell you my secret.

That I may not have to blame myself or you hereafter.

That's very good. And believe me, Dmitri Fyodorovitch,

that every sincere and complete confession on your part may, indeed, moreover -

Gentlemen, that money was my own.

Hold on, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, from your own confession,

you didn't possess money the same day.

You were trying to get it.

I had it. It was mine. Stolen and mine.

It was fifteen hundred roubles.

But where did you get it?

I took it off my neck, gentlemen, off this very neck.

It was here, sewn up in a rag.

It's a month since I put it round my neck to my shame and disgrace!

And from whom did you... appropriate it?

From her.

From Katerina Ivanovna.

Formerly my betrothed.

I stole it.

Yes, I'm a scoundrel to talk about her here.

But it's her money.

She gave me three thousand roubles a month ago

to send off to her sister,

and it was just at that fatal moment in my life when I'd just come to love another.

Here, in Mokroe I wasted half that damned three thousand roubles.

But the other half I kept on me.

I kept it here.

But yesterday I undid it.

How's that? When you were here a month ago you spent three thousand, not fifteen hundred.

Who counted the money?

You told yourself that you'd spent three thousand.

It's true, I did. Yet I didn't spend three thousand, but fifteen hundred.

And the other fifteen hundred I sewed into a little bag.

Have you informed anyone that you left half of the sum?

I told no one.

What was your motive for making such a secret of it?

That disgrace, in your words, is just money belonging for a time.

It's not stealing.

An act of the greatest recklessness and not so disgraceful.

You can't understand why it is disgraceful?

No.

Why did you set apart that half?

For what purpose did you save fifteen hundred?

Oh, gentlemen, the purpose is the whole point!

You'd understand in a minute.

I kept thinking of Grusha.

That she wouldn't forgive my poverty.

My father prepared three thousand roubles for her in an envelope.

I thought then that she was hesitating between me and him.

And all of a sudden, she were to leave off tormenting me.

And said, 'I love you, not him.'

And what could I do?

She said, 'take me to the other end of the world.'

How could I take her away?

And so I counted out the half of that three thousand.

And sewed it up.

I counted out fiendishly.

I did that before I was drunk.

And after I had sewn it up, I went off to get drunk on the rest.

I should have called it sensible and moral not to have squandered it all.

Gentlemen, you horrify me.

Just imagine, what was happening with me all this month.

Every day and every hour I said to myself, 'You're a thief! you're a thief! '

That's why I've been so savage.

That's why I fought in the tavern, that's why I attacked my father.

It was because I felt I was a thief.

Tell me, though, was that 'amulet,' as you call it, on your neck, a big thing?

If you fold a hundred-rouble note in half, that would be the size.

Where did you take it off?

I dropped it.

Where was it, exactly?

Are you laughing at me?

I don't want to talk anymore.

I see you don't believe me! Not for a moment!

Damn you!

Shouldn't we have some tea?

I, Nikolay Parfenovitch Nelyubov, the investigating lawyer of a district court

having examined a nobleman Dmitri Fyodorovitch Karamazov

as the accused,

in infliction of a bodily injury,

which led to murder of his father,

a nobleman Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov-

Gentlemen, what will be with Grusha?

She is innocent.

What will you do to her?

You can set your mind quite at rest on that score, Dmitri Fyodorovitch.

We have, so far, no grounds for interfering with the lady.

Gentlemen, I thank you.

I knew that you were honest, straightforward people.

But I am lost.

You've taken a load off my heart.

What are we to do now? Prison?

Go! Go! Later.

Let's continue.

...infliction of a bodily injury.

And having considered that the accused, not pleading guilty

to the charges made against him,

had brought forward nothing in his defense,

while the witnesses-

Why are you crying?

Why is it crying?

Why is the baby crying?

Why is it crying?

THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV

End of Part Eight