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POLAND UNDER AUSTRIAN OCCUPATION

THIS STORY COULD HAVE HAPPENED

BUT IT HADN'T

This is the place for some grand words

to get this story going.

But I haven't got any.

I thought I did,

but it seems that I don't.

At least none worth writing down.

TADEUSZ ŻELEŃSKI DOCTOR

Do you know that feeling

when you wake up after a party with your coat gone,

and your memory a blank,

at the door of the biggest wacko and dopehead in the country?

And three packs of other wackos have just sentenced you to death?

You know that feeling?

Until then, I didn't either.

DANGEROUS GENTLEMEN

Staszek! Stasiu!

- So, you came! - You won't believe this.

I'm in a mess, you have to help me!

I don't have to do anything!

Love, so gentle in his view

Should be so tyrannous And rough in proof

You, girl, yes, you girl So lovely you are

Witkiewicz...

Witkiewicz.

Tadziu! You're alive?

STANISŁAW WITKIEWICZ WITKACY ARTIST

Think so.

All's well then.

Pray, tell me...

What am I doing here?

You expect me to know?

You are you.

Where is my coat then?

Dear man, your coat, your problem.

Joseph, sir... Have you seen my coat?

"I finally saw Kurtz in the wilderness..."

Sir...

"I felt an aversion to beat this shadow, this wandering and tormented thing."

JOSEPH CONRAD WRITER

My coat...

"You are lost.

You are irrevocably lost."

Joseph...

- Bronek, have you seen my coat? - Alice!

BRONISŁAW MALINOWSKI ANTHROPOLOGIST

What Alice? You all drive me crazy!

- I have to go to the hospital! - You sick?

I'm on duty today!

That's why you want to go the hospital? Enjoy your hangover!

Who said I want to go there? It's a horrible place.

When I look at him...

When I look at you, and see how diligent you are,

how repulsively decent, such a busy bee,

sorrow wells up in me.

Good thing you can rise above it. Like a true artist.

It's balm to my soul.

Now, even if I had your coat, I wouldn't give it to you.

- Really? - Yes.

Interesting.

Where's my coat?

Focus!

Some people actually work, not just pretend to be inspired!

Idiot!

Bronek...

- Bronek, for whores' sake! - Yes?

Have you seen the expedition money?

It's in the tobacco drawer.

If it were there, I wouldn't be asking like a cunt!

Don't be overdramatic. Remember, you're bigger than this.

- Where's the money? - Where's my coat!

- Forty grand vanished. - You say I took it?

- You tell me. - We mustn't...

Shut it!

He only drops by when he's in shit. Żeleński's the first suspect.

I bet you snorted away that trip money.

I resent that! Not a trip but a research expedition!

Flip your pockets!

- Excuse me? - Flip them, Tadeusz.

Now.

- And you'll be in the clear. - Easy, boys.

If not Tadeusz, maybe this gentleman will know?

Get up!

Holy fuck!

- Looks somewhat like you. - Knock it off!

Anyone remembers anything?

Mr. Corpse not much, I suppose.

- Mr. Corpse! - How dare you laugh!

Don't be a wuss.

- Be quiet. - What's there to remember?

Can't you see a corpse on the floor?

- Who is this? - How did he die?

- Who killed him?! - One question at a time!

Right, Tadeusz!

- We need a methodology! - There he goes again!

A mystery!

Crime story material!

Gentlemen, let's focus.

How can we not remember this? There's a corpse here!

Maybe you tell us, quack.

You messed up a surgery, and now want to pin it on us.

Is there any brain left in that head of yours?

You call two bullets to the heart malpractice?

You've got a point.

We have a memory gap.

It's not about anything minor, but an issue that's hard to forget.

Considering the presence of the corpse.

Gentlemen...

Tadeusz is quite right.

How can none of us remember something so evident!?

We took peyote.

A hallucinogenic cactus that can cause memory loss.

- Staszek! - How could you?!

Me?

We've taken some hallucinogenic crap!

- That had to be your doing! - I have to agree with Tadeusz.

Peyote is as metapsychic drug. Works like no other.

Down the hatch!

Maybe I gave you the stuff, big deal.

That doesn't mean I'm responsible for this thing.

Question is, what are we to do with it?

When I was a sailor, we just threw guys like that overboard.

Good thinking! But it's quite a trip to the sea.

- How about a well? - Enough!

Do you even hear yourselves?

A man is dead. What if we killed him?

All the more reason to dump the corpse.

I'm so disappointed in you!

If one of us did this,

we should turn ourselves in to the gendarmerie!

Are you nuts? Żeleński, examine him.

If we did that, we should pay the price.

I wouldn't expect justice from the gendarmerie.

If it's like heath care in hospitals, then we're screwed.

- Open up! It's the gendarmerie! - You fucking asked for it.

I did not!

- You wanted the cops, so there. - Me?

- This is my last warning! - Open the door.

Why me?

- You're a doctor. - It's your house!

Look at me, should I do it?

I'm here on behalf of His Grace the Emperor Franz Joseph!

This is your last warning!

Open up!

And here are the authorities.

I feel safe already.

- Can I help you? - Yes.

And how?

I've been told Dr. Tadeusz Żeleński was here.

Not just was, still is.

- Dr. Żeleński is here? - Yes, he is.

- Where is he? - Right here.

Pleasure.

Dr. Żeleński was shot dead yesterday.

What do you know?

Dr. Żeleński could not have been shot dead

because I am Dr. Żeleński.

- You are Dr. Żeleński? - That's exactly right.

- Have you got any ID? - Of course I do.

I do, in my coat.

Where's the coat?

I haven't got it now.

So, you don't have an ID!

I don't but I do, it's just that...

Inside.

...I don't. Right, come inside!

- IDs, now! - Easy, we're just playing cards.

Sit!

- Wait... - One second...

Seems I lost again.

- IDs! - We're almost done.

- Show me! - Mine's in the coat...

One moment.

Hands up!

Hands up!

Jasiek, come on!

Stasiu!

We found him that way.

- He wasn't well since morning. - Against the wall!

Whenever we play, he collapses.

Dear sir, it's not what it looks like...

I've smelled something fishy from the start, and now I've got you!

You artsy scumbags!

You're under arrest!

My Zamoyski! Only two like it in the world!

- You prefer jail? - I do have the other one.

Now we have two stiffs to deal with.

Now, gentlemen,

we have to solve a mystery.

Or they'll hang us all for murder.

Someone else could have done it.

But because of that peyote no one remembers anything!

Every judge will think we're lying and that we're guilty.

What a mess.

Not the Zamoyski!

That was the last one! Thank you!

- You prefer to hang? - Just go to hell, won't you!

Gag him and cuff him to the stove.

Bronek...

Tadeusz, examine the corpse.

- Excuse me, why me? - You're the doctor.

What's there to exam?

Two bullets to the heart, there's lividity.

Rigor mortis... irrevocably dead.

Fine!

- Don't take that! - Why not? Could come in handy.

He's so cold!

- What kind of a doctor are you? - I'm a goddamn pediatrician!

This isn't my typical patient!

He does look a bit like you.

Grab his hand. Pull it up.

Found something.

- Maybe a code or cypher? - Let me see it.

What can it be?

- A theater cloakroom tag. - You sure?

- The theater's my favorite drug den! - Right.

Now, when I look at him...

Wait a minute!

The plot thickens.

- Who could've killed him? - Who stole the expedition money?

Right.

One more thing.

Tadeusz...

If the gendarme thought you were dead then...

Then what?

- You'll have to be someone else. - What?

Be the dead guy, to buy us time to investigate.

Don't you dare! That's gross!

Screw the dead guy's mustache!

Witkiewicz! This is too much!

What time is it? Isn't the coach late?

It's past noon. It should be here.

This is the famous Witkacy guy.

That crazy artist.

Doesn't look crazy to me.

Maybe a little.

His fiancée killed herself.

Couldn't stand him.

- Is that so? - Oh yes!

And that composer...

the famous one...

- They call him the next Chopin. - You don't mean Szymanowski?

Oh yes I do!

Apparently, he had a fling with her.

- You don't say! - But I do!

Help! He's insane!

- Did you have to do that? - I did.

There.

Bronek, time to investigate.

Thank you. Let's go.

- Run them over! - Stop it!

To Kasprowy! We'll find them there!

- A dead guy wore this! - Would you prefer to hang?

- Witkiewicz said you're writing. - I wouldn't call it that.

Nothing like you do. I just scribble in between patients.

About what bugs me in this country.

Before I became a writer, I was a sailor for many years.

You should give your writing a chance.

Well, I have...

What is this rubbish?

- And you wrote this here? - Professor...

Silence!

You better decide if you want to be a doctor or a fool!

Shame on you!

Have you decided yet? Are you a doctor or a fool?

And what are you doing in Zakopane?

I'm trying to leave.

Good luck!

By the way, how are the papers coming?

- What papers? - My papers.

And that's supposed to be my problem?

Inhale!

Joseph, I implore you! Here's Witkacy's address.

Be there in the evening, I'll have your papers.

All the stamps and signatures, just help me kill their expedition.

If they go, I'm finished, get it?

Exhale!

It's not that I forgot but...

Could you just give me a teeny tiny hint?

I could.

Transit guarantees from Galician authorities

for an interned British subject.

- I would never forget about your... - Transit guarantees.

Guarantees, that's right.

We're at the theater.

You sure you didn't step into some shit here?

I don't think so.

Let's check out the theater.

"You are lost. You are irrevocably lost."

Titans of spirit!

The sight of them makes me sick.

I thought you were an artist too.

You equate me with this rift-raft?

They can't touch me. I had a better opinion of you.

I feel sorry for that Dr. Żeleński.

He was so nice.

- And funny! - Żeleński?

My boy had a colic once.

The doctor came and said,

"Perhaps he had stale fish?" I go, "Doctor, an infant? Fish?"

He takes another look and says, "We should get a doctor."

No!

ZOFIA STRYJEŃSKA, PAINTER MARIA PAWLIKOWSKA, POET

Please, be serious. This is no laughing matter.

If you could, please, one by one, tell me what happened.

- Żeleński! - Have you seen Witkacy?

Witkacy?

- You? - Hello, love...

- Someone shot Żeleński? - Yes! Shot him dead.

The doctor was there, then suddenly...

and he was no more.

ARTUR RUBINSTEIN PIANIST

Zamoyski shot him.

- Are you sure? - No. Yes!

No doubt about it.

Shakespeare was born for you, madam.

Żeleński!

So, now you're an art critic?

- You should've stuck to medicine. - Zamoyski!

- But why? - Why?

Żeleński criticized his sculpture. It was a matter of honor.

And honor needs to be defended, so he wacked him.

Zamoyski wacked him just like that?

What else could he do?

AUGUST ZAMOYSKI SCULPTOR

Me? Żeleński?

First of all, he loved that sculpture. Everyone does.

Second of all, he was killed by...

Szymanowski killed him. It's clear.

Szymanowski?

- Tadeusz? - Karol, how are you?

- Hi! - You scum!

Put the gun down!

KAROL SZYMANOWSKI COMPOSER

Come clean now, did you kill him?

- Karol? - I can't listen to this crap.

Really, I can't.

Jealous Jadwiga Mrozowska killed him, and that's the truth.

I wasn't even there.

I was on stage, in Vienna, the temple of art.

JADWIGA MROZOWSKA ACTRESS

- But it happened last night. - So?

- You were in Vienna last night? - Theater is my life.

Thirty people saw you in Zakopane.

Why, do you think I don't act in Zakopane?

Who do you have me for?

I can't stand these morons. I'm going to explode.

Listen, you bums!

Who was at the party?

Now we're getting somewhere.

Listen up!

Who was sober and knows for sure what happened to Żeleński?

A bunch of fucking drunks and junkies!

- Who knows who could know? - Szymanowski!

He knows a guy that will know.

He's friends with the commander who's got spies everywhere!

Unbelievable.

Hello?

Anybody here?

Excuse me!

Good afternoon!

It's a new day! Anyone here?

Tadeusz?

- They wrote about you. - Yeah?

Yes.

"At a reception at the theater, Dr. Żeleński was shot to death.

Unknown perpetrators stole his body from the morgue.

The whole matter appears mystifying."

Straight to the point.

Tadeusz...

There's our host! Hello!

Impressive.

Bravo! Here you are.

What's this?

Well, it's a... cloakroom tag.

- What is it for? - What do you mean?

For outerwear. Go get it and stop asking questions.

Bloody hell!

What a mess this is.

Yours?

Mine. Who else's?

You are that writer.

Writer? Yes, that's right.

Maybe an autograph?

- From me? - From you.

- Both of us? - Just you.

- Oh yes. - Fine.

Find a pen and paper, and I'll get you that autograph.

Go ahead.

- Check it, quickly. - Right.

Here, wait.

There's something here!

- A diplomatic passport. - We're so screwed.

Marquis Boy de Maupassant.

Fucking brilliant.

Interesting.

Not only do we have a corpse, it's a fucking aristocrat!

You gave me a scare.

An autograph.

- Boy. - Boy.

- Boy. - You speak good Polish.

- For a Frenchman. - Thank you.

The reading will be in what language?

- What reading? - Yours.

The whole town will come.

MARQUIS BOY READING: TODAY

I'll be there too.

Hey, I'm singing, singing a song

Happy that I can...

How would Staszek draw this?

Hey, my sweet Jasiek

To your ear I sing

Staszek, grow up, will you?

If not for our poem

Great.

Almost like a Witkacy.

- That informer of yours, is he far? - We're almost there.

It's behind that ridge.

Jasiek went out to Barania To hang up the rope

So when the moment came He would not lose hope

I didn't know you sang so well.

On his way he passed By the last young trees

On his way he passed By the last young trees

He looks there to see

Jesus waiting for him

What a talent!

- Staszek! - Yes, Bronek?

Szymanowski is speaking to you.

You're at it again?

If you ever see Szymanowski, which I don't wish upon you,

since it's a horrible experience,

tell him we are not on speaking terms!

Staszek!

- Your fiancée wasn't my fault! - Tell him he's scum!

He shall remain incommunicado until I decide otherwise!

And I don't think I will!

- Staszek... - Don't.

No heavy heart Will remain sad forever

No heavy heart Will remain sad forever

Let them find some happy feelings

In the music flowing

Let them find some happy feelings

In the music flowing

Imagine wearing this every day. Just look at the color!

- I saw a sofa like this once. - Put it on.

Dumb idea to impersonate the Marquis.

I should be at the hospital!

Do you prefer to hang? Just do it.

Don't make a scene.

How cute!

Cute my ass.

Joseph?

You know those two?

Not really.

And you?

Something rings a bell.

- But I can't quite grasp it. - Peyote.

Just ask them.

Pay your debts, doc, or...

- Bite the dust. - Forty thousand crowns.

Cough it up.

The side door.

You remembered something?

I just thought, why not use the side door, is all.

We meet again.

Oh my, you pretend not to recognize me!

Good afternoon, madam.

Good afternoon.

I have a weakness for writers like you.

ZOFIA NAŁKOWSKA WRITER

- I'm sorry, but this is a mistake. - No mistake.

Take me once again.

What is this, lady?

What? What do you mean?

Yesterday, you sang a different song.

Some marquis, for fuck's sake.

Marquis?

Unheard of!

Aristocrat my ass!

What a joke!

Our fatherland is so rich.

To think that I sailed to Congo for adventures,

when I could have come here.

Come on, get up.

What's this?

Voltaire's Candide? Bravo!

Hurts?

What's this?

What does it look like? A coffee grinder?

- Staszek... - What now?

Why not say, "No guns," instead of being a dumb fuck,

when I'm clearly waving around a piece!

- No guns inside! - Fine! Good boy!

Give me a week, and he'll play fetch.

- Here! And I want it back! - Calm down!

I'm clean.

Slowly!

- Who are these bandits? - Riflemen.

More like highwaymen!

And I fucking spoke to Szymanowski!

How distasteful!

Load!

Commander!

Here's the pseudo-Chopin! Makes my heart grow!

JÓZEF PIŁSUDSKI POLISH REVOLUTIONARY

I'd rather think of myself as an independent creator...

You fake that Chopin a little, right?

Copy.

Rip off.

How's the music box?

- Grand piano. - Whatever the heck!

Gentlemen!

Welcome!

We don't often see such patriots.

Dismissed!

Forgive me, but a lot is going on.

We train ceaselessly! Watch this.

Fire!

Anyhow, the enemy is down!

Plum vodka? It's cold as hell.

- Commander, the courier's here. - Oh yes!

Come on!

Watch your heads!

Mannlichers!

Pricier than Kropatscheks but we've got cash to burn.

Bayonets.

Grenades.

An accordion?

- What's this? - Zdzichu wanted it.

Really?

Didn't I say, ask before you order?!

Bunch of morons! I'm all alone!

There!

Four hundred rounds per minute!

Bigger oiler, extended radiator! True marvel!

And you paid for it.

- We did? - Did we?

Sure, you did!

Losing to you is like winning!

Józef! For the nation!

Take it. Before I sober up.

Attaboy!

Such big donations are rare.

Any chance we could get it back?

No.

- That's our entire expedition budget. - Listen.

My dear boys!

Patriotism is a one way street.

Once you support a cause there's no going back.

That would be treason.

- And traitors must be... - But we are in need!

- So is the country! - But...

We were supposed to go on a research expedition to Australia!

Doesn't our nation need researchers as well?

Excuse me, artists? This is Witkacy.

Can't we just stick to the grenades?

Paintings won't get us independence! With all due respect!

There's one more delicate matter. His fiancée, Jadwiga...

What about her?

- Very pretty, really! - Oh yes!

The Chochołowska Valley!

- Kościeliska. - Common mistake.

What is she...?

What was that about?

I invited him on the expedition, so he wouldn't...

- He cheated on her, she found out? - Him?

Stasiu!

Madman!

Will you help, commander?

Stasiu!

Well?

- Fine. Let's go. - No. Wait.

First, tell me what you remembered.

Who, me?

- Why would you say that? - Cut the crap.

We're in this shit together, talk.

- It's nothing, really. - Or you'll have to deal with it alone.

Forty thousand crowns. Cough it up, doc.

On the other hand...

Don't cough it up.

I'll gladly take the opportunity

to make you suffer.

The scaphoid and capitate bones, to start with?

Blood circulation isn't great there.

You know it won't ever heal.

What if we also...

ripped the median nerve?

That would bury your doctoring career.

I see you're a medical student.

An enthusiast.

In that case, let's go to my office. I've been expecting you.

I've got your cash in my desk.

This time for real.

I was about to reach out to you...

Good day!

A world-class specialist!

The father of Polish pediatrics, Prof. Maciej Leon Jakubowski.

There's just one hiccup.

Like I said, I have to finish examining a patient.

Nurse! These gentlemen will wait for me here.

Could I ask you to get them a glass of water?

They're dehydrated and jumpy. This could end with an IV drip.

Just kidding.

I'll just tend to the patient.

- You don't... - But I do.

I'm back, madam!

Forgive me, we'll be done in a moment.

Let me just take a look at your lungs.

Could you cough for me, please.

Great, once again.

Just tell me, madam...

Maybe don't say anything.

Great.

You can get dressed now.

Just take your time.

We're in no rush.

Easy!

Dr. Żeleński! You're heaven-sent!

Seems so.

I've been having these pains recently.

- Where? - On the stairs in the morning!

I have to run to the station.

- Please, register inside. - Oh no.

Now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go!

All these ropes are filled with blood?

That's right.

You're a picture of health!

He's so dead!

Just take one drop of this on a teaspoon of sugar daily.

- Okay? Have a nice day. - Thank you.

He's running like death was chasing him!

You gambled away 40 thousand crowns?

What happened next?

Don't know.

- I swear! - Żeleński!

Believe me. I ran to Zakopane. Then there was the party.

- I remember as much as you do. - That damn peyote!

Chop-chop!

Good day!

Everything you hear from now on is top secret.

If you breathe a word...

It so happens

that in Poronin, a Bolshevik, one Vladimir Lenin,

schemes to make people's lives miserable.

This time, he decided to target us.

A French aristocrat has come to Zakopane,

one Marquis Boy.

Lenin decided to kill him,

and implicate our Polish Socialist Party.

DIE SCUM! PSP

But why?

What do you mean why?

For political provocation!

Thankfully, we learned about the ploy,

and prepared counterevidence.

DIE CAPITALIST! LENIN

- Makes sense. - An inspired plan.

Yes!

We were happy with it too.

But there was a hitch.

The Bolsheviks,

instead of the aristocrat, they shot some wretched doctor.

- Tadeusz Żelmowski. - Żeleński.

Whatever the heck.

The thing is, since they didn't whack the Marquis, they'll try again.

And that's our chance!

So, killing a doctor isn't a scandal?

Right!

Can they just shoot Żeleński and walk away?

Don't take offense, but some Dr. Żelmowski...

Żeleński!

...or Żelmowski, will be forgotten in a minute.

It's not political.

You're giving up already?

The thing is...

that marquis of yours...

If this comes out, the scandal will be worse.

Much worse.

A French aristocrat gets shot in Galicia.

Supposedly by us!

And we lied to the press about it!

This could end in war.

MARQUIS BOY READING: MAY 15

It's simple!

The reading is on! It's a matter of the state!

You know any shamans who would revive the marquis?

You don't get it!

The marquis is alive! Żelmowski's dead!

That's what the paper is saying!

Must I teach artists about fake news?

But what of it?

A bunch of morons! I'm all alone!

We get the doctor to the reading.

The Bolsheviks attack again, but we stop them!

And we win!

What if we fail to stop them?

Żelmowski will be killed for real.

- There is a bit of a risk. - A bit!

The organization is prepared to pay for such a risk.

Twenty thousand crowns.

Sorry, but the risk is too great.

Żeleński is scum, but he's our scum.

Forty thousand.

- Staszek? - Shut it, Malinowski!

No time to lose.

We have to get to Witkacy and Malinowski

before they get into more trouble.

Good day!

Good day.

Keep calm, Tadeusz. How can we help?

- You are that poet? - Yes, he is that poet.

- Truly fantastic. - Yes!

I'm the poet everyone talks about. At your service.

The commandant wants to talk.

We'd love to come, but our poet has an important meeting.

So much is happening.

Have a nice day.

Goodbye.

Stop!

You must come with me right now.

Forgive us...

Joseph, run!

Stop!

Joseph, move it!

Keep it, man!

Excuse me!

Joseph!

Run like hell!

I'm trying, but it's coming out crooked.

Move!

They're gone!

- We were supposed to stay calm. - And aren't we?

Jesus!

Stop!

Joseph, get in! Let's get to Witkiewicz!

Go! On the double!

Damn, that was close!

Haven't felt so alive in a while.

I have to tell you something, Joseph!

I really took you for an old man with a cane.

I'm a simple sailor who still carries a knife.

Although I did once consider becoming a doctor.

Come on.

You sailed across the world, you write books.

That would have been a waste.

Isn't it beautiful that you help others though your work?

- In theory. - And in practice?

In practice...

I'm suffocating in that hospital.

The system doesn't work. It's inhumane.

You're up for 30 hours,

and all those people keep yelling at you like you made them sick.

Then you realize they want to be sick.

Deep inside their minds, they want to be sick.

They eat crap, booze, don't take care of themselves.

And for those truly in need,

there are no beds, no funds, no resources.

I kind of understand that.

At the same time...

I love all these people.

I feel bad about their suffering.

Maybe you should write about it.

I try to.

I do, but such helpless rage comes over me

that I can't get my hand to write.

I just freeze up and...

I lose myself, I escape, into gambling, to forget.

Stop torturing yourself.

How can I stop? All this is because of me!

I'm drowning in debt. Some bandits are after us.

A man has been killed. Joseph!

I really don't know who I am.

During my first cruise up the Congo, almost all of us died.

At some point, only the boatswain and I were left on the boat.

Both dying of malaria fever.

And we had one last vial of quinine left.

A lifesaver.

What did you do? One wasn't enough for you both.

It suddenly dawned on me and my close friend

that whoever is quicker with a knife will have a chance to live.

And?

I'm here, he's not.

I never told this to anybody.

You won't find it in my journals.

You see...

The more you explore human nature,

the less you may like what you discover.

Excuse me. Wrong way!

This is the wrong way!

No, it isn't.

Witkiewicz was left!

We're not going to Witkiewicz.

All this beauty will fall into the hands of the working class.

The mountains will sing out the words,

"Long live the proletariat!

Long live communism!

Long live comrade Lenin!"

Volodya, listening to you say that gives me goose bumps.

My revolutionary!

On your knees, scum!

Work again?

You promised we would relax!

Nadiusha, my dear.

We'll shoot them quickly and I'll be yours again.

Who the hell are you?

Lenin.

Who?

Lenin.

Is that supposed to ring a bell?

- Still nothing. - Hit him.

Again.

No need.

I am the Revolution.

NADEZHDA KRUPSKAYA, VLADIMIR LENIN RUSSIAN REVOLUTIONARIES

Yeah, right.

You were lucky once. But the second time's the charm.

Wait! It's "the third time's the charm."

Right, that doesn't matter. Something else does.

Why shoot me at all?

Some people would want to but we don't know each other.

You may not know us.

- That's a start. - But we know you, Marquis Boy!

Hold on.

A word before you shoot?

Just keep it short, I have a revolution to start.

My wife's impatient.

Give us a minute.

But let's sit.

My neck hurts from all that looking up.

Move it!

Let me understand you correctly.

You intend to shoot one Marquis Boy, yes?

Yes.

Then you've succeeded. Congratulations!

You see...

the marquis is dead already.

They got it all wrong in the paper.

They wrote that Dr. Żeleński is dead.

Really delicious.

Is this pork?

Normally, I don't eat pork, but today's a crazy day...

And the thing is, I am Dr. Żeleński.

The one that's dead.

So...

This is just a misunderstanding.

Forgive me for eating like this,

but we've been running from people all day.

Anyway.

Boy is dead, well done.

Compliments to the cook.

Joseph and I will go now because I have hospital duty.

Marquis Boy, you have me for an idiot?

Yes? For a moron?

You escaped me once, but now, Marquis Boy, you die!

Excuse me.

Even if he were the Boy you're after,

what will the working class have to gain in killing such a fool?

Why shoot him?

What do you mean?

To finish off capitalism!

This will be the fire that starts the revolution!

A French aristocrat will die at the hands of

Polish terrorists under the command of...

Piłsudski!

Comrades!

Europe is a powder keg

that needs just a tiny spark to explode and break up into pieces.

Out of those ruins, a new communist Europe will arise!

And that spark will be you and me.

Everything clear?

Sure.

To put it briefly, you're after a provocation.

They're starting to annoy me.

There's going to be scandal that will lead to war.

Can we shoot now?

This can't be done here,

privately, in a cabin.

Why not? It can.

- Nadya, we talked about this. - I've had enough.

How much of that Kalinka song can I take?

That's all they play. Don't they know anything else?

If you want a scandal,

you have to do it in a public place.

- Or it won't count. - It will!

It won't.

No audience means no publicity.

And without publicity, it doesn't count.

What do you suggest?

Unless, we're back to square one.

Excuse me...

He has a reading today.

What reading?

Show him.

- What about it? - You want a scandal.

Shoot him there.

That's brilliant!

But why are they helping us?

Why are you helping us?

Because... I...

deep in my heart I'm also a revolutionary?

And this is a true fighter!

Drive comrade Boy to his reading!

- Joseph, let's go. - He will stay with us.

Just in case.

If your readiness for sacrifice should fail.

You'll think of something.

I hope.

He came and asked

What the girl would give him

Staszek, dammit!

Always trouble with that one!

Staszek!

Stasiu!

I'll knock it open.

Stasiu, what the hell is this? You'll be the death of me!

You're not a bad looking boy.

One more time!

For the revolution.

It will be an honor to shoot you.

My hero!

BOY READING

Not these two.

Pour me a mug, I'll pay.

Good thing the doc made us come here.

He wasn't completely useless.

Some Russians are holding captive a British writer, who's in fact a Pole,

and they will shoot him if you won't let them shoot you?

Exactly.

If this were my first year here, maybe I'd believe you.

If you don't go there, they'll kill him.

This is my fifth year here.

Commandant!

They say there's a dragon in the mountains.

They want us to arrest it.

Tell them we're busy with the basilisk.

Yes, sir!

You see?

I have five of these daily.

Go have your happening somewhere else.

Goodbye.

- Return the Hussar now. - No.

The paint is wet. You'll leave marks.

Hear me out.

Go ahead.

They want a revolution.

Their leader calls himself Lemming or something.

They're after a provocation.

"This will be the end of capitalism and the rotten bourgeoise!"

They want to start a war.

- Any other sensational news? - Yes.

I am Tadeusz Żeleński.

- The doctor that was killed? - Yes, it's me.

- You got proof of that? - Yes.

Sir!

Now, that was really good!

I demand you take action!

I won't leave until you start doing your job!

I won't leave until you do something about this!

I won't!

Gentlemen, please!

- And don't come back! - Scram!

Do I look like a medicine ball?

What do we have here?

Not these guys again!

But then again...

She left me, I get it.

But to leave the little one?

He needs tenderness.

I'm a guy. I can't give him that.

A cat needs a father and a mother.

He started peeing in the bed, where she used to sleep.

Yeah, right.

Grab him.

Get him in there!

Put on a clean shirt and you're sure to get it fucked up.

Every fucking time.

Diabolical shit!

Grandma said to put salt on it.

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

What?

You're a gift from heaven!

Who are you?

You've been chasing me from Krakow, right?

Is this the guy that...

There's a thing.

Bolsheviks hold my friend captive.

I need to bust him out, so I thought of you.

You are dead!

- What? - Begone, evil spirit!

Jesus Christ...

Stop it, it's me, Dr. Żeleński.

You okay?

What's wrong? Come on!

Heart attack!

- Help me! - No!

- He's having a heart attack! - You thought you had me!

Feed... Fluffy...

For fuck's sake...

DECEASED

Why should we arrest you?

One of them was run over, the other had a heart attack.

Bad luck.

I was there.

There's no law against that.

- Bolsheviks want to kill me. - You're starting again?

You must arrest me and send your men to Poronin.

Legally, you're innocent.

If all you've got are wild stories, there's not much I can do.

You can go now.

I'm busy.

You have to arrest me because I killed Dr. Tadeusz Żeleński.

You killed him?

That's right.

I don't believe you.

But now, I can't not arrest you.

Yes, sir!

- I haven't said anything yet. - Yes, sir!

You see what I have to work with?

The body is in Poronin, in the cottage under the old mill.

Check it out.

- Under arms, just in case. - Yes, sir!

One more thing.

Where the hell is Johan?

Johan.

Johan!

Johan!

You haven't told us about your reading!

What reading?

- What does it matter? - We have to escort you there.

How come?

I'm an arrested criminal.

But Count Zamoyski himself wants to hear your poetry.

Let's get to the reading.

- Come on. - No.

- Move! - No.

- Take him! - Stop!

I can't see the count dressed like this!

Tall guy, stand straight!

Strip!

- You're taking me to my death. - Yes, sir!

I'm not Boy, I'm that dead doctor!

Yes, sir!

All I wanted was to find my coat!

My love! When are we leaving!

- What? - I'm ready to go right away!

- You've mistaken me with someone. - You kidder!

Boy, my marquis.

Everything will be different now.

Paris...

I so want to see it! I'm so excited!

Come on.

A riddle for you.

What's the difference between...

What they have in common.

No, what's the difference between a politician and a sparrow?

One shits on people from great heights,

and the other is just a bird.

Let's welcome Marquis Boy!

Bravo!

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.

I'd like to exchange a few words

with Marquis Boy before his reading.

The count would like to have him just for himself.

Really, get the fuck out.

- Yes, scram, quickly! - Scandal!

Go, go, go!

Goodbye!

- Scandal! - Get the fuck out!

And you? Are you deaf?

- He could be dangerous. - Get the fuck out, I said!

Yes, sir!

Count, there's been a grave mistake.

Everyone's taking me for someone else...

Kiss my feet, Żeleński, you bum!

Witkacy?

Are you nuts?

- You've completely lost it! - Look!

You too?

Is this how you react to friendship?

- Are you high? - That could be so.

- Stupid question. - Very stupid!

Okay.

- We have to run. - No, we're staying.

For your reading. You're the talk of the town!

- Snap out of this! - Trust us, Tadeusz.

We shook heaven and earth to get you out of jail.

- You did what? - Yes!

- Count Zamoyski himself intervened. - That's right!

You've ruined everything!

The Bolsheviks are going to shoot me during the reading!

- That's the plan! - Wonderful!

We'll stop them, and deliver a counter-provocation.

I can see you stopping them.

Have faith in your friends, Mr. Żeleński, I mean, Mr. Boy.

I don't even know what the marquis wrote.

So, read some of your work to them.

- The social ones. - No one's heard them before.

But why?

You have to share your talent with the world.

You might not live to get a second chance.

We have to go.

I'm not the guy they take me for.

How can they know who you are if you don't know that yourself?

Count...

Stasiu!

- Stop this. - Tadeusz, life cannot be stopped.

If you back out, there will be fucking war!

But no pressure, man.

Here's our writer. Respect.

Doctor.

Let's say writer. Whatever the heck.

Still, congratulations.

- For what? - Sacrifice for your country.

- You're a true hero! - Couldn't we skip the sacrifice?

That's the idea, but, you know.

If something went wrong, I couldn't congratulate you later.

Ladies and gentlemen! This will be a special night.

At the piano,

a world-class Chopin copycat, Karol Szymanowski.

And... the main attraction, this season's absolute stunner!

Marquis Boy!

Ladies and gentlemen,

I'm sick of us all.

Screw this.

I'm sick of all our lofty discussions that change nothing.

I'm sick of all our egotism,

of how enlightened and progressive we are.

We are so passive.

All those hypocrites and pseudo-guardians of morality

keep conning us!

People are dying here.

Because of the most basic, avoidable ills.

The die of diseases we've been able to cure for ages.

Of the cold.

Of hunger.

Of the lack of prospects.

Of being forgotten.

Of...

I'm talking to you, sir, you with the collar.

Don't nod like that.

You people turn the lives of the poor into an even worse hell.

Whenever a burning issue comes up

and people attempt to figure out what to do

for life to be a little better,

a little easier, at least a little brighter,

immediately a baleful black hand comes out

and a roaring voice bellows from the pulpit,

"That can't be!

We shall not let you change or improve anything!

Everything has to stay as it was

in this house of backwardness and repression!"

Despite of all the authority

of those experts in interpreting the maker's wishes,

I can't believe that God's will

always favors the rich, showing no mercy for the poor.

Yes!

That it protects lies, cruelty, and greed.

Down with religion!

And you!

In the name of freedom and noble ideals,

you want to impose boundless suffering

that leads to nothing and creates nothing.

It's just another empty gesture that brings on pain and despair.

- But forget this. - Dammit, he's good.

It'd be a waste if they shot him.

Whack him!

Scum!

What I really wanted to tell you,

taking advantage of this opportunity,

straight from my heart...

Sons of bitches! Żeleński, I'm coming for you!

Sir!

Please, don't shoot!

Excuse me!

Sir!

Please, don't shoot! I beg you!

My friends are there!

Long live communism!

- We gotta arrest them! - No.

- We gotta fucking go! - Yes, sir!

They're shooting at us! On our provocation!

What insolence!

Hey, you, Lenin!

Man, you ain't got a chance!

You sure?

Maybe you ain't got one!

Stubborn ass!

It's nothing personal but you're getting you butts kicked,

no two ways about it!

Go ahead, do your worst!

Comrades, shoot to kill!

I knew he was too tall!

Tadeusz, are you okay?

Come on! No!

Son of a bitch!

Live! No!

Don't you die on me, for fuck's sake!

Literature has saved your life!

I thought I had you out of my hair!

You're not fooling me. You have a soft heart.

- What? - A soft heart.

You're not fooling me anymore.

I don't have a soft heart.

You shield your friends with your own body.

What friends? I haven't got any.

You only pretend to be selfish,

but deep in your heart you are an angel.

- No, I'm not! - Good Staszek!

- I'm bad! - My Staszek!

I'm diabolical!

Hand-painted.

I order the paint from Milan.

The cannon! I always save it for last.

- Wise decision. - It's the Battle of Solferino.

- Impressive, right? - Definitely.

And this?

Here we have the key figure of the battle.

My grandfather.

Right here.

There.

- Tadeusz, take it easy. - Good job!

- Are you okay? - Everything's fine.

Great.

If everything is clear, please, sign the report.

- What's clear? - Take it easy.

Nothing's clear! Take what easy?

What's all this about?

Who killed the Marquis?

Couldn't you just sign the report and go home?

No, I can't.

Too many people tried to kill me in the last 24 hours.

About the Marquis...

Come on!

Mine's the other one.

Move it, I haven't got all night.

Haven't seen you for a month or so. No change.

Perhaps I'm pale rather than fair...

And your bag!

I'll take it.

It shows you can live without air.

Quiet!

One, two, three!

They really were after me...

Seems so.

Headquarters confirms they had serious rap sheets.

So, it turned out well with that...

Speaking of the Marquis,

how the hell did he end up on our sofa?

He's dead, leave him alone!

Żeleński is ours, he'll like it better at home!

This is about me!

So, we've stolen "me" out of the morgue?

Looks like it.

But why? Beats me.

Nothing surprises me anymore.

And the scandal? The provocation?

The Marquis is dead.

The Marquis...

So, the Marquis...

We found his loggings at the Bandit Inn.

Marquis Boy de Maupassant turned out to be a conman.

Spread out!

An embezzler and fraudster.

He forged documents and identities.

No one will miss him.

But we got Mr. Lenin for the provocation.

He's in jail now.

This isn't the end of it!

Volodya!

Get a grip!

Mental discipline is what counts here!

You're right.

Joseph, how did you get out of this?

Soldiers?

Kill him!

He missed.

For breaking up the gang of revolutionaries,

Mr. Conrad receives departure papers

with an order to leave the country.

If everything has been sorted out,

can I just take my coat and go to the hospital?

I don't see why not.

If that's what you wish.

So, you are a doctor, after all.

- Screw you, Witkiewicz! - Tadeusz, come on!

- You bastards! - Staszek!

Gentlemen...

I don't want to say that it was nice,

but it was.

Thanks!

Good day! Hello, little one!

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are bidding farewell to a tragically deceased doctor,

Tadeusz Żeleński.

Polish medicine has suffered

a terrible and heartbreaking loss

with the passing of the brutally shot in Zakopane

Doctor Żeleński.

Doctor!

So, you are alive!

The papers said that Dr. Żeleński was shot and killed!

They were right. Dr. Żeleński was killed.

I just came for my typewriter.

But... doctor!

You're leaving us?

How can you? You've got duties here!

- You have to help people! - I'd rather do it through this.

You're making a mistake!

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

"Boy" Żeleński finally found the words worth writing down.

He gave up medicine to become the most prominent critic,

translator, columnist, and satirist of the era.

He called himself "a fool."

But others saw in him the conscience of the nation.

Witkacy and Malinowski sailed off to Australia,

but the trip broke their friendship.

Malinowski became an eminent anthropologist,

and Witkacy returned to Zakopane, to become a total artist.

A writer, painter, philosopher, playwright,

genius, and madman, all at once.

Having given up sailing, Conrad devoted himself to writing.

He became one of the most prominent writers of all time.

And Marysia married Johan. They lived a short, happy life.