Original subtitles

Good job, Jędrula!

Thanks!

- Hi, Jędrula. - Hi.

- Thanks for today. - You bet.

- Keep up the good work. - Yeah.

We're so proud of you, Jędrula!

Jędrula! You're the best!

Hi. Thanks. You too. Thank you.

Jędrula. This is an intervention.

We've all been worried about your behavior for quite some time.

You were always the life of the party.

Full of energy. Always joking around.

However, that seems to have changed recently.

And it's obvious that it's got to do with alcohol.

That's right. Alcohol wasn't good for me.

Jędrula, it's time for you to wake up.

So, since you've stopped drinking booze, you haven't slept well.

All your tossing and turning

disturbs my sleep too.

But when I was drinking, I'd fall asleep

outside by the fence.

- Sometimes, I'd mess my pants. - That's right!

And that was always your trademark. Remember what they used to call you?

Shit-stained Jędrula.

Shit-stained Jędrula! You were building your brand.

You had a handle, just like Casimir the Great.

You were bringing your fellow peasants joy in these troubled times.

Remember when you'd run around the town naked,

chasing folks with a hatchet, threatening to murder them?

- That was funny. - Ha. Hey, you know...

maybe I really have lost some of my positivity and joy.

Yeah.

I've got to listen to everyone gossiping at church about how you are not drinking.

Yeah.

I had no clue it'd be such a burden for you.

This is what family and friends do. They lift you up when you hit rock bottom.

God bless you.

Jędrula, one more thing.

Remember that you won't find cheaper vodka than at my inn.

And if you don't drink?

Then you stink.

Today is market day.

Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop!

Our nobility's economy is mostly based on exporting our grain to the West,

and importing all kinds of luxury goods.

Thanks to that, we have no need to develop technology.

And when I told my Italian friend about our economy, he said two words.

"Polacco," meaning "Polish,"

and "stupido," meaning "Europe's granary."

That's what we're known for. Cluck, cluck, cluck!

Oh.It's Anielka.

- Where are you off to? - I've got a few errands to run.

Don't go into the woods, or a Swede might try to kidnap you!

- Dad, you're such a xenophobe. - Oh!

You too, sweetheart. Bye-bye now.

Ah.

Bogdan, here's a riddle for you.

What starts with "W-H" and runs Poland?

Whores.

- It's wheat, Bogdan. - Ah.

It ensures this country's prosperity.

These are desperate times.

There've been years of bad crops, war, disease.

- Which is why we should all be grateful. - Hello, neighbor!

I'd love to tell you about some of the improvements that made my farm so...

- Hey! Get outta here! - ...prosperous... Woah!

Beat it, Andrzej! This isn't your story!

For some reason, Andrzej's peasants produce more crops than mine do.

And that mean bastard won't tell me his secret.

You should know that Andrzej is a real scumbag.

Simply put, the man is evil.

The village name Adamczycha comes from the name Adamczewski.

Adamczycha used to belong to my ancestors.

All the different halves of it.

I'm the fourth Adamczewski to run the family estate.

And it was always the pride of this province.

But as soon as I took over,

it suddenly started to decline.

That's what I call bad luck.

Then, suddenly, Andrzej showed up.

PURCHASE AND SALE AGREEMENT

After my beloved wife passed away,

I decided I needed a change of scenery. I was looking for respite and...

He moved here because he killed somebody's wife

or something like that. I don't know.

Either way, the jerk took advantage of my six-year streak

of bad luck and vulnerability, and bought up half of my village.

Yeah. The bigger half.

That's not the point.

And besides, size doesn't really matter.

Only people with small villages say that.

Even if it doesn't totally belong to me for the time being,

Adamczycha is my happy place.

In this village, I was born.

And here, in this village, when the bell finally tolls for me,

my body shall be buried.

Not my heart, though.

My heart will be laid to rest at Wawel Castle.

Does anything else need to be hanged?

I don't know. Maybe we could hang all of the nobility.

First, we could pluck out their eyes,

and then we could cut out their...

lying tongues.

Or we could just hang their skins. I'm fine either way.

I'm on a mission to meet with the peasants today.

We've been going through decades of increasingly bad weather.

What we're witnessing is definitely climate change.

We must act now.

Fellow humans, we all need to have a serious discussion.

Imminent climate change means that our lives here on this planet

are being put at great risk.

CLIMATE DISASTER IS COMING

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

I knew this would happen. We all had it too good.

At the University of Heidelberg,

scientists claim that unless we change our habits now...

...the results will be nothing less than catastrophic.

Bodzio, grab my pitchfork.

You got it!

That sounds pretty terrifying. How much time do we have?

In 380 years, the changes will be irreversible.

380 Years?

Well, screw that, then.

Yeah. Well, I'm sure it must seem like ages from now

but the sooner we start... For example, we could begin with, uh,

our cattle herding practices.

Their gaseous emissions poison the atmosphere.

I don't know. Seems like we've still got some time.

- Yeah. Maybe if it was 100 years from now. - Or even 30.

Thirty sounds more terrifying. We'd definitely do something then.

We would be utter morons if it turned out that in 30 years

climate change was upon us and we still hadn't done anything.

Everybody needs to keep an ear to the ground.

We have to find out why our manor is failing

compared to that idiot Andrzej's manor.

- So, seek and ye shall find? - Exactly.

Then, we should wring the peasants out like rags.

- Is that in the Bible too? - Sort of.

Stanisław, we're deliberating here. You're going to inherit all of this,

but you just sit there on your picture all day.

- Gimme a break, will you? - Put the picture away.

- Dad, in a minute! - Not in a minute! Now!

Life's passing you by.

That's better.

I expect a full report on your day at dinner tonight.

Get to work!

That carpenter looks familiar.

Let's go over it again. What should we put in the stove?

Wood logs.

And what don't we put in the stove?

- Dead rats. No dead rats! - Dead... dead rats!

Yes! Good work, girls.

Oh, hey! How's the "climate" in Adamczycha today?

Hm, okay.

Maybe not the best joke, but still, it wasn't that bad.

Hey.

Are you mad at me?

I don't know. Are we doomed because of your climate-change denial?

- Sure. We're all doomed. - The fire of change starts with a spark.

You've made it harder for me to reignite it.

- Well, you got 380 years to keep trying. - Hey! It's cold in here!

Bring me some of those dead rats!

Ula! There's a bunch more in here!

I thought you were cool, but I was wrong.

Grzegorz.

We're taking an inventory of the estate

and there's just one small thing about your work habits

that seem suspicious to us.

We've noticed that, on the days you work your own land,

you use a horse to pull the cart out in the fields.

However, on the days you work for your serfdom,

the days you work for us, it would seem your cart is being pulled

by your father-in-law instead.

I've got the attendance report here.

You see? Monday to Thursday, it's all your father-in-law.

Friday and Saturday, it's the horse. It's like that every single week.

Do you think that someone got confused when they wrote it down?

- And thought he was a horse? - Right.

My father-in-law has a pretty oblong face and big horse teeth.

With the sun behind him, someone could easily get confused.

Grzegorz, someone might've confused your father-in-law for a horse

once or twice,

but we're talking weeks now. Everyone knows what a horse looks like.

Now, let's see how he tries to get out of this one.

Your Lordship, I believe our dispute comes from

you underestimating my father-in-law and overestimating the horse.

I'm sorry, what?

Well, people nowadays are just crazy about the horse-ification of labor.

They're saying that, by the 18th century,

horses will be performing most of the tasks that peasants do now.

But I believe that's just a pipe dream. I mean, let's think about it.

How can one replace the mighty but humble peasant...

It's him, for sure.

I knew it.

I mean, what are the odds that the Savior would come back

in my lifetime, let alone to my village?

I'm thinking, maybe three percent, tops.

JEW'S

Not quite.

Yes...

Yes! Very good.

And where does this go?

And this?

- Someone's caught your eye. - Who?

- The noblewoman. - What?

- Hasn't she? - No.

That's just like me. I always seem to put my foot in my mouth.

Everyone's like, "Oh, he's a Jew."

"He's super smart, so he's always scheming.''

And yet, no one's ever invited me to join in on a single scheme.

Except, you know that Jewish scheming thing

is just a bad stereotype. Right?

Sure. I know, I know, I know.

- A stereotype. - Mm.

Or maybe...

Or what?

Or maybe all Jews are schemers.

And I'm the only one who never gets invited along,

because I'm stupid, and I can't hack it.

Good.

Okay. You were right.

What about?

The lady.

She sorta... caught my eye a little bit.

- Yeah? - Mm-hmm. You see?

You're a very perceptive guy.

Maciej.

Jew.

One hundred and ninety-nine...

Hey there. Why are you going through the muck like that?

It's for the noblewoman.

Two hundred.

For you.

Thank you, Father.

I find it pretentious

when people act differently around celebrities.

When I'm with Jesus, I act normal.

I don't think I'm gonna eat today. It's the seventh meal I've given away.

Some people here call me "The Last Good Samaritan."

He's just a regular guy. Except, he's God.

What's your name, dear fellow?

Marian.

My mother's name was Mary, so that's what she called me.

You're kidding.

Your mother was Mary.

I'm a 33-year-old man, and the name still embarrasses me.

Thirty-three. Oh!

I'm taking your advice.

We'll torture the peasants until they talk.

Uh, no. I don't think I ever said to do that.

What're you talking about? When I asked what to do about Grzegorz,

you told me to beat him for hours.

Uh, what I meant was... you should beat him for hours with love.

No. I'm positive you told me to beat him senseless with a flail.

It was just a metaphor, Dad.

If you want the peasants to work harder,

that's fine.

But convince them to do it with the flail of your arguments.

That's what I meant.

Mm.

Jakub got me thinking.

In the past, I've always used the "carrot and the stick" approach

with the workers.

The carrot was for the oxen, and the stick was for the lazy peasants.

Now, I'll use the strength of my arguments.

I'll use persuasion to make them work harder.

Or I'm not the most famous Jan Paweł in the history of Poland.

Hello, everyone.

Welcome to our very first motivational session, called

"Adamczycha, Where Your Fate Is Sealed."

That sounds a bit sinister.

- What does? - The idea that our fates are sealed.

Like, forever.

Or like we're surrounded by wolves, or Mongols.

I'm scared.

No, there are no wolves or Mongols.

Your fates are all sealed in a positive way.

I'd like my peasants to believe in themselves.

After all, everyone's the architect of their own fortune.

I mean, not literally.

If I had an architect, his fortunes would be mine for the taking.

Therefore, I'm the architect of the architect's fortune.

- Your Lordship? - What?

I think a better motivating factor might be if there were

harvest-time profit-sharing initiatives in place for us serfs.

Lord Andrzej's farm works that way.

Mm-hmm.

So that's what his secret is?

Well then, Andrzej might just be the biggest idiot since Galileo.

Don't you know that you all participate in serfdom profit-sharing already?

Maybe you can elaborate?

Well...

Uh...

Maybe you've heard about... the trickle-down theory?

The rising tide lifts all of the boats.

Are we the tide or the boat?

So, is this tide going to seal our fates?

It's, uh...

Grzegorz, are you kidding?

Your father-in-law is out in the field, and you came here with your horse?

What are you doing here, peasant?

- Father Jakub told me to. - Told you to do what?

To make myself at home.

Jakub? What's going on here?

You're not gonna believe it, Mother. It's him.

Mother doesn't believe that Marian is Jesus,

and so, we need to perform a confirmation miracle.

I summoned some impartial witnesses to ensure a scientific environment

in which the miracle could be performed.

Once it's done, everyone will be all,

"Hail Father Jakub! You found Jesus for us!"

And also, "Hail Jesus for coming back."

Hail Jakub and Jesus.

In alphabetical order.

Peasant, I have just one request for you.

Of course, my lady.

Walk to the center of the pond.

Excuse me?

I'm asking you to walk on water,

and get yourself to the center of the pond.

If you're able to do that, then I'll release you from your serfdom...

forever.

Did you hear that? You'll be free if you do it.

That's certainly the upside, but I can also see some drawbacks.

I've got to be able to walk to the center of the pond,

which is impossible.

And you also can't swim.

Yeah. That's another drawback.

I heard someone say that, in 20 years, looking back on our lives,

we're gonna regret the things we didn't do but not regret the things that we did do.

That's good. Makes you think a lot.

Right? Because, here in Poland, we fixate on the negative.

It's this "no-can-do" attitude. It's everywhere.

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

Screw it. I'll give it a try.

I can't wait to see your face!

Oh.

A false prophet.

Unfortunately, it turns out

that the only thing that made any of the peasants leave their comfort zone

was the flail.

The real one, not the one from Jakub's parable.

The only problem is...

That Anielka gets really angry with me when I use it.

And nothing hurts more than the look of disapproval

on your sweet child's face.

Fortunately, there's another approach that leaders use.

Lying your ass off.

LETTER FROM THE KINK

This is incredible.

How incredible!

This letter, from the King,

says that our estate has been qualified for an experimental program.

The program in question will increase mandatory serfdom duties

from four to five days a week.

Come on, King!

Bogdan, did you really get this from the king's messenger?

Yes, I did.

He came on a... bay horse.

He handed me the letter and just... rode right off.

Oh! Yeah?

Mm... Yeah, he was in a rush to get to his son's birthday.

He also said, on top of having one son, he had...

two daughters.

Huh?

The overwhelming amount of details in your story proves

that it must've happened!

I now have to live with the burden of this lie.

But that's part of what makes a great leader.

His willingness to make sacrifices for his community.

But the most important thing is that my estate will work more efficiently.

And now that idiot Andrzej...

Somebody set my grain on fire!

It was me!

Shit-stained Jędrula!

Jędrula!

You stupid drunkard! What have you done?!

Aniela?

How's that climate change going?

Because it still snowed, as usual.

Convincing the peasants to change their habits

has proven to be very difficult.

People inherently fear change,

and they refuse to give up even an inch of their comfort.

- Humans. - I prepared a nice hot bath for you.

And your supper will be ready soon.

Would you like an appetizer?

Yes, please.

On the other hand, 380 years?

We might still have some time.

Aniela!

I wanted to let you know, uh...

that I've decided to change my stance.

Did you puke all over yourself?

No, uh... I'm, uh...

I mean, it was a close call because I spent, like,

three hours digging beans out of the leftovers for the cattle.

You may not be aware of this, because I know girls don't fart,

but, um, beans cause a lot of flatulence and I tried to limit the...

cows' gas emissions.

You know, that's the strangest theory I've ever heard.

And it's also the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

I accept your apology.

But I'm going to go inside now,

because you smell foul.

It's the smell of victory.

You know, if anything ever happens between me and Aniela,

I'll be able to say that it all started because of cow farts.

I've always been pretty romantic.

Obviously, nothing's gonna happen.

Aniela's a noblewoman.

You wanted me to do something today, right?

Well, I got engaged...

Hm.

...to a city girl.

Oh.

Subtitle translation by Maja Konkolewska.