All language subtitles for A Private Conversation

MOSFILM

WITHOUT WITNESS

Based upon S. Prokofyeva's play
"A Conversation Without Witness"

Cast:

She - Irina KUPCHENKO

He, her ex-husband -
Mikhail ULYANOV

Screenplay by
Nikita MIKHALKOV

Sofia PROKOFYEVA
Ramiz FATALIYEV

Directed by
Nikita MIKHALKOV

Director of Photography
Pavel LEBESHEV

Production Designers -
Alexander ADABASHYAN

IGOR MAKAROV
Alexander SAMULEKIN

Original music by
Eduard ARTEMYEV

Music by K.V. GLUCK
played in the film

English subtitles by
T. Kameneva

My darling,

Somehow I found half an hour
to write you a letter.

This resort is just wonderful.

The food is really good, and
no one we know is staying here.

The only scourge is mosquitoes.

You don't see any in the daytime,
but at night they drive you crazy.

The matron gave us some netting,
and I covered the window with it,

but the mosquitoes get in anyway.

Well, it's not all that bad.

As Ira says, we're not little kids.

We go to the beach in the morning
and in the afternoon,

and in the evening we take walks
or watch television in the lobby.

They televised a Gluck concert
last night.

And it reminded me once again
of that evening 7 years ago.

Or rather, that night.

My goodness, is it
7 years already?

That evening began with Gluck too,
with a theme from "Orpheus".

I remember it so well,
even the conductor.

By the way, I got
a letter from Dimka today.

I'll write about it after the movie.
They're showing us a Chaplin tonight.

Oh God, what are you doing?!

You could have given me
a heart attack!

You've scared me to death.

Next time ring the doorbell, please.

But I have the keys, don't I?

You still should have rung.

And where are my keys?

My mother-in-law's put so many locks,
one can't get into his own house.

Well, forgive me, I'm sorry.

How've you been?

- Isn't Dimka at home?
- No.

It's nothing new!

And what's that?

Don't you know Dimka? I'm even
afraid of coming into his room.

And where's he hanging about, that...

...boy of ours?

- I don't know.
- Just great!

Well, well, well...

Well?

Shall I take my coat off?

I think I will.

Well, that's done with.

Where have you been, all dressed up?

At a concert.

My Natalya played
Debussy today.

It was just great!
Just imagine.

That tiny kid with a big bow
playing Debussy!

Have you been drinking?

Sure. I dropped
at a cafe by Nikitsky Gate.

I had a few drinks
from fullness of heart.

I see.
So that's why you came here.

Please, don't start now.

Let me call home
and congratulate my girl.

My beauty, my honey.

Ah, Debussy, Debussy...

- Isn't Dimka at home?
- You already asked.

Ah, yes, yes.

Listen, do you
remember Borka Rubtsov?

Borka? Of course I do.

It's all over for him.

- Our bachelor's been yoked.
- Meaning?

You know what I mean. He got
married. The wedding was yesterday.

My congratulations.

Better late than never.
Good for Tania.

You, my little turtle.
You think he married Tania?

Who, then?

He got himself a young college
graduate, not a very beautiful one.

Oh, Borka's so smart,
he knew what he was doing.

She's quiet, with a braid that long,
and a bow like my Natalya's.

There's nothing else to look at.
And Borka...

Well, he's happy.

- Yes, that's too bad.
- What do you mean?

I mean Borka and Tania.

Well, nothing bad about it...

Couples do separate.

A very common story.

I must say that Tania was
understanding about it.

Made no scenes.

- Unlike some others you know.
- Yeah...

Remember how I came back
to pick up my sheepskin coat?

You grabbed at its sleeve,
and - bang! Tore it off.

How depressing!

What do you mean?

Who, me? Nothing.

I just can't get warm. It's so
ghastly, damp and cold outside.

- Has it been long since you saw Tania?
- Yes, it's been quite a while.

I met her in the subway one day.

She was bringing oranges to her
sister in the hospital.

What a memory you've got!

What was that?

The elevator. Have you forgotten
how the doors slam?

Listen, remember the first time
Borka came to visit us?

We were living in Vorotnikovsky
Lane then.

- Why don't you answer?
- What? About Borka?

Yes, about Borka.

It's a silly question.
Of course I remember.

How he came over.

He just got a job
in the ministry then.

He seemed to be having problems.

- Problems?
- Yes.

Dimka came down with German measles,
I had the flu. It was a nightmare!

And you two sat in the kitchen,
writing some letter.

You're just something!
What were we writing? You remember?

No, I don't remember
what you were writing.

I think I should call Tania.

- What?
- I have to call Tania.

- Why?
- Just to talk.

The woman is suffering,
and you'll be prying.

Hello, Tania.
I love you, I feel so sorry for you...

- What's that?
- The alarm clock.

- And that?
- That's the kettle.

What a situation
I've got into!

I know she's going
to call Tatiana now.

And I'm sure that Tania knows too
about the letter we were writing.

Borka and she didn't keep secrets
from each other then.

If these two abandoned women
get at it, it's curtains!

They'll distort everything,
no one will know the truth.

And I, the idiot, thought
you didn't remember about that letter.

No such thing!

Women have
crafty and practical memories:

To remember itjust in case,
to tie a string around one's finger.

You were writing some letter then!

That bitch, she remembers everything,

keeps everything,
like a moneybox.

Oh, she can keep a secret!

Not a word about her own affairs.

Are you afraid the fish will get away?

Did I really take the bait?
Incredible!

Our old boy,
that baldish virgin.

And I thought that
everything has died down in you.

You little mouse!
Seems so quiet to look at!

And just like this, whispering,
she'll tell him about the letter.

Guys! Guys!

What if he really
finds out about the letter?

Then I'm going
to drown myself in your pool.

Well, how do husbands leave us?

As a matter of fact,
all cases are alike.

Only the details differ.

When you left, one thought
tortured me for months:

How simple it all was.

I come home from my work.
Your desk is empty.

Two Ionely pegs on the coat rack.

An empty shelf.
A forgotten tie.

It's so easy to put your things
in a suitcase and leave.

Your life was going on,
and mine stopped.

You went on with the same job,
did the same things,

said the same words, only you
lest from another house each day.

And to me, all that didn't
make any sense.

Work, friends, the telephone -
everything.

And only one thought,
you know,

how simple it all was.

No war, no earthquakes,
no deaths, nothing like that.

Just a man had left,
whom you loved.

Only if you really loved him.

I tried everything to get you back,
it was painful and humiliating.

I was rolling over Sorokirs carpet,
I tore your sleeve off.

I was so scared.

I had myself dissolved in you,
completely.

You were gone, but I thought
it was I who was gone.

But it's all right.

At first you die,
but then it's all right.

Answer the phone.
Answer the phone, it's ringing.

- Can't you do it?
- Answer it.

It's strange.

Hello?

Dimka is not home.

All right, I'll tell him.
Who's calling?

Ferret?

All right, I'll tell him.

Ferret? Is he Dimka's friend?

I guess so.

Just think of it!

Ferret! What a nickname!

I'm going to call home.

Remember Fatima?

Of course I do.
Fatima is dead.

Really?

You don't say!

She died last year.
I dropped by at Vorotnikovsky...

Where could they be? How could I
have lost Svetka in the foyer?

What do you know!
There's nobody home.

Where could Svetka be? She was
supposed to be home long ago.

Would you like some tea?

I made some Indian tea.

I don't know what I want.

Oh! What?!

Shut it off! I can't stand it!
It makes me nervous!

What?

- What's that?!
- What?

Where are you going?

I expect a call.

A call?

From whom?

- Dimka said he'd call me.
- Ah, Dimka!

You don't have any faults, do you.

But excuse me...

You're pressing like an iron.

You should live simpler.

You're waiting, aren't you?
Preparing, anticipating?

Yes, I'm the guilty one,
but not the way you think.

I was honest with you.

Yes, I'd been to that house before,
but it never occurred to me...

I was perspiring when I arrived
at the door of his office.

The academician had a habit
of drooping his lower lip.

It meant the academician
didn't like something.

It drooped as though the elastic
passed through it broke down.

But so many peoples' lives
depended on that lip then.

And suddenly, Svetka.
His only daughter.

Young and charming.
But she had seen through me!

She understood I was
yearning for challenging work,

for real work!

It's only later that
whispers started behind my back:

He's got plenty of ambition.

I don't give a damn about them.

Not a damn.
I was honest.

I wanted only one thing - to work.

And Svetka brought out of me

what you were quietly smothering
with your peasant humbleness.

You were dragging me into the gray
mediocrity of everyday life.

Remember the day I was leaving

you yelled:
Dimka! Dimka's mine!

Dimka, with his whims and tonsils,
was only an excuse, a trick,

but actually it was me you wanted!

You wanted me to come back,
to stay here,

to resign myself and live by your
small step of a phony nun.

But I was born for something
different.

Yes, something different.

And that's my only guilt.

But you were braking and inibiting
me, without realizing who I am.

You wouldn't understand me,
and Svetka understood right away.

Their entire family understood it.

They knew at once what kind of person
I was, and pulled me up.

I can never forget it.

All that world...

Svetka on her high heels,

so charming and bright.

My mother-in-law sailing out
of the bathroom with a towel.

The noble grayness of her hair
the color of blue fox,

her medicine in a little green glass.

Natalya.

A serious kid.

My daughter.
The academician's granddaughter.

Her pure skin.

My beauty.
Debussy...

And you want
all this to be ruined?

You want all that horror and ugliness

crawl out of a soup bowl right in
the middle of the family dinner?

No, I won't let you
destroy our nest.

You won't succeed in it,

you quiet proprietress,
crafty and calculating.

You're all prepared, aren't you?
Savoring it. Waiting, right?

But I'll have to disappoint you.

You'll have to wait and wait.

I think it's time to have a drink.

Where'd the cognac come from?
You're not drinking, are you?

- I don't know. Someone brought it.
- I see.

- Did you say something?
- No, nothing.

Want some tea?
What are you looking for?

I think there were candles somewhere.
I want to light them up.

- I'm saving them for the New Year.
- I'll buy you some for the New Year.

Get the candlesticks.
Let's sit in style.

Why are we always in a hurry?
What for?

Let's sit and talk.

Oh, you got baldish.

- Really?
- Yes.

- Here, the matches.
- Right.

Light it.

All right.

Let's drink.

Let's drink to Natalya.

It's just terrific.

A tiny kid...

with a bow...

sits at that big piano.

The concert hall is packed
with people.

Debussy, without any sheet music.

And I sit there crying, the old fool.

When Natalya is playing,
damn it, it's heaven!

Cheers.

Oh, how good it feels!

Oh, so good.

What luxury!

How can you eat it?
It's sour.

It's good for you.

You don't look well.

Really?

Maybe because we were drinking
last night.

You know...

You've put on some weight.
It becomes you.

- Really?
- Yes.

You've put on some too.

No.

- It's not true.
- Why? It becomes you too.

Cut it out, there's nothing like that.
I'm on a diet.

Dimka looks more and more like you.

Please, don't.

What are you thinking about?

Nothing.
Want an apple?

An apple? No.
But you eat one.

I think I caught a cold.
I can't sniff any smell.

Excuse me.
All right, cheers.

Look, have I really...

- What?
- Well...

- Got baldish?
- Yes.

There we go.

There we go.

What is it...

Are you sick?

Cheers.

Oh, sweetheart...
All right, cheers. Choo-choo.

Oh, look, Mueller.

He's singing!

I go out alone on the road,

In the fog my rocky path shines on.

Night is calm...

The sound is still good.

- And you, do you still play?
- Yes, now and then.

Remember Yalta?

Look, I guess Dimka
must have some music?

And here I'm knocking myself out
for nothing.

You really don't remember

what letter Borka and I
were writing then?

Why are you pestering me about
that letter? Of course I don't.

Just one button...

Are you crazy, you idiot?

What? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

- You shouldn't drink so much!
- What's the matter?

Wait! Wait!

Shame on you!
Why are you pretending?

I can see, my girl!

You're all trembling.

Oh, so crafty, so crafty!

With Svetka it's so simple.

You turn her inside out -
it's the same Monday, daddy's girl.

No secrets.
Lazybones.

Even lazy about this. Before I get
my tie off she's already asleep.

It's very different here.

I'm surprised I could have
gotten away from here at all.

There she is, walking and walking...

Oh God, my nose is stuffed.
What a ghastly weather.

Walking and walking in rounds,
all pious and chaste.

But I'd brought myself to do it,
and said that I had another woman.

I was honest with you,
and you?

Why didn't you say how things were.
I would have understood.

No, you were...

Walking and walking...

It's just incredible!

He hasn't called for months!
He just didn't care.

And here he is - music, cognac,

dancing,
"I go out alone on the road".

It's called
visiting your son.

During the whole evening
you didn't ask once

where he was, how he was, who his
friends were, where he spent his time.

You don't care at all
about your son.

You come over
just to show off.

What are you up to?

- What do you mean?
- Why are you undressed?

You know, I feel somewhat...

I feel feverish.
I guess I got a cold.

I want to talk to you.

- About what?
- About Dimka.

Oh, my God!
Dimka, Dimka...

What about Dimka?
Well, his grades are bad.

But that's not all.

Three days ago, when he came home,
I smelt liquor on his breath.

You see? That's it.

You absolutely don't care.

In a noisy big ballroom...

There we go. Choo-choo.

I saw you,

Your face was a mystery though...

Your voice like a magical call,

Its sound now ethereal, holy,

Now swelling in a sea-going roll.

I liked your so slender a figure...

- What do you want?
- My little darling.

Come here.

Come on.

Are you crazy?

Where's the key?

The key?

- It's simply ridiculous!
- Ridiculous?

- I wanted to tell you...
- What?

- That...
- What?

- Don't come near me.
- Why not?

- And dress.
- Why?

What did you want to tell me?

Dress first, then I'll tell.

What difference does it make?
Don't you worry.

I'm waiting.

It's so silly!
I... well, you know...

You see, the thing is...

What?

Oh, mama!

- Oh dear!
- Where are you going?!

You liar! You hypocrite!
Enough of your playacting!

Where are you going?
Wait!

Bullshitting me all this time!
You know how to get on my nerves!

You want me
to chase you all night?

- Tell the truth just for once!
- What do you want?

- Are you getting married?
- Yes.

- To Valka Shlyakhov?
- Yes.

Let go of me, it hurts.

You're hurting me.

Where's the key?

- Where's the key?
- On the wardrobe.

Get dressed.
Dimka may come any minute.

So that's how things stand.
So Valka Shlyakh swallowed the bait.

My dear classmate!
Old boy.

So he got hooked, that pig!

Oh, pardon me, please...
I meant to say

our honorable Valentin
Shlyakhov, our luminary,

Professor,
Doctor of Science,

Laureate of the State Prize,
our great chief.

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.
It was just a slip of tongue.

That's how it is, my dear,
you have nowhere to go.

It's like the worst nightmare.
I'm sober enough now.

Oh God, I feel so cold.
She's made me absolutely sick.

Now it will start crawling out
from all the crevices,

all that old trash.

She will tell Shlyakh
everything, all the details.

How Borka came over and we
pulled off that stupid farce.

She'll enjoy telling about it.
And Shlyakh will never forgive me.

You don't know how to deal with him.
How to approach him.

You talk to him and feel
as though your fly were open.

He looks awkward and clumsy,
can hardly turn in his chair,

but any minute now
he'll become an academician.

No, that's it, he'll never forgive me.
I'll have to resign.

Jesus, I feel so sick.

Listen, listen.

Listen.

Shlyakh will never
forgive me for that.

He's different.

He's a stranger.

And I... I'll just... crack up.

Just... crack up.

Ouch, he squeezed my wrist so hard.

But I don't care,
at least you know now.

For so many years you've walked in
here as if it were your home.

Looked around - everything is in its
proper place. Walked into the kitchen.

Ate right from the pan what there was
left, cold, without warming it up.

Always in a hurry, like a fugitive.

Flicking through Dimka's notebooks,
you suddenly fell silent.

Falling asleep right in the chair.

Yes, or you phoned your daughter.

Even then you failed to understand
what was going on with you.

That's why you suffered
and was rushing about.

I could have helped you then,
but you didn't want it.

You just didn't want it.

Has it ever occurred to you that
we could have had a daughter too?

She would have been 12 now.

By the way, she would play
Debussy on the piano, too.

I would have taught her to.

If I hadn't listened to you,
as I've always been listening to you.

I hurt your wrist, didn't I?

No, just a little, but it's nothing.

Yes...

I'm sorry.

Something's wrong with me...
I can't understand what.

Please accept my congratulations.

From the bottom of my heart.

And what are your plans?

How soon?

I don't know. It depends on Valya.

And what about Valya?

- Is he in a hurry?
- Yes, he is.

Great.

He's a good man, an excellent
person. It's not only my opinion.

Yes, I know.
He's a wonderful man.

Stop doing that.

It's all right. I can help.

- Let me hammer it in.
- Let me do it.

When the wind blows this way,
the door opens.

When Natalya was little,
she said "whip" instead of "wind".

O whip, whip, you're so powerful...

When she was little.

Look...

Tiny pieces of glass.

Don't walk barefoot in here.

And tell Dimka not to.

All right.

I'll empty the dust pan.

- Let me give you a hand.
- No, I'll do it.

You can glue this thing.
I say it can be glued.

It's not won'th it.
Just throw it away.

We were so green.

Young idiots, like your Dimka.

So we made it up.

What?

I mean the letter
Borka and I wrote.

We were green idiots,
just like Dimka.

I'm talking about the letter
Borka and I had written.

It was so funny to see

Valka Shlyakhov running
around with his eyes wide open

and saying, "Guys, someone
snitched on me at the ministry."

And we just laughed,
we thought it was a harmless joke.

Do you call your
Natalya an idiot too?

What do you mean?

Please don't call...

Dimka an idiot.

It hurts me.

Did I say something wrong?

She played Debussy just terrifically.

You had it worked out for you
just great, by the way.

So remember: Dimka is not an idiot,
he's your son, and you're his father.

Wait, wait...

What did you say?

What did I say?
That Dimka is your son.

I knew it that you'd
drag Ninka into it.

You got me wrong.

For how long are we going to rehash
that same old thing?

You know perfectly well that I was
with Ninka for one short month.

And then she vanished,
vanished for good.

How could I know
where she'd gone?

And how could I know
that she was pregnant?

If it were not for Ninka's diary,

the child had been left in a maternity
hospital after her death.

I would have never known
that I had a son in Cherepovets.

Please, let's not talk about it.

No, we must.
It was you who brought it up.

Your son! Aren't you ashamed?
Did I ever deny he was my son?

When they called me and said
that my girlfriend was dying,

I didn't ask any questions.
I went straight there and took my son.

The baby.
I had to give Ninka a funeral.

A strange city. I knew no one there.
The baby needed to be fed.

I sent a telegram to my mother,
saying I was bringing him.

I rushed to the station.
No tickets available.

I got on a waiting list, ran back to
the hospital, then to the cemetery.

Then two days on a train.

I ran from car to car,
looking for a breast-feeding mother.

I was crazy! I was scared
he was going to starve to death!

And I met you
only six months later.

- You should be ashamed of yourself!
- You've already told me all this.

It was stupid of me to have to.

He would've lived in Kherson now, and
you never would've known about Dimka,

and we wouldn't have had
this nightmare!

Please.
You've promised on oath.

- You're the one who brought it up!
- All right. Forgive me, then.

And you're the one who started it back
then. You yelled: Let's adopt him!

Adopt him, I had nothing against it.
You gathered all the documents.

It was your idea to take the child in.
Your own idea!

- Do you regret it?
- What?

That he calls me mother?

No, my dear, I didn't mean that.

Do you remember how happy
we were, the three of us?

Remember how you heated his
bottle and took his potty out?

Remember what wonderful
letters you were writing to us?

Right, while others got professorships

and degrees, I wasted my time
taking the baby's potties out.

Oh, so Dimka's a waste, is he?
And your academician isn't?

- Washing his car every morning.
- Who? Me?

- Yes, you!
- Yes, I did, I do, and I will do.

Because I care about his health.

And he drives me to the institute,
because he values my time.

And he's right, too!
I'm doing important work.

I've gone up in the world!
And what about you?

What have you squandered your life on?
What have you achieved?

Nothing at your work.
Nothing at your home.

Dimka doesn't even respect you,
but you keep going: Dimka! Dimka!

You gave up the Conservatory because
of him. What good are you?

You've raised a good-for-nothing, and
now you want to blame me for it.

If he'd stayed in Kherson
with my mother,

he would've gotten his bad grades
there, you never would have known.

It was your idea to adopt him.
Your idea, not mine!

And now you're whimpering:
Your son, your son!

Have I ever said
he was not?

My darling,

It's only here, far away from you,

that I've realized with an amazing
clarity how much you two mean to me.

Before you, my life
was empty and senseless,

because I had no one
to live for.

And now... you can't even
imagine who I am now!

I'm overfilled
with the almost holy feeling

of my accomplishment and
self-righteousness.

And it was you who have given me
all that.

You, your love,

your gentleness, your sweetness,
your wisdom.

You know, night after night,
I've been dreaming the same picture:

In our hall, next to the door
to the closet I built myself,

I see a nail pounded very low
in the wall,

and hanging on that nail
is a small fluffy fur coat,

with a tiny pair of felt boots
on the floor beneath it,

and a pair of galoshes, as tiny.

It sounds silly,
but every time I dream it,

I wake up with happiness
and with tears in my eyes.

I love you so much,
my adorable little turtle!

I decry on everything
that I had before you,

before that moment you took

our Dimka, wrapped in his flannel
blanket, into your arms,

and you said, "Let's go home."

And then all the way home you cried
and thanked me for something,

and I didn't know how to comfort you.

My darling, Dimka is your son.
All yours.

And no one will ever know the truth
about him, I swear it to you.

I swear it!

Wait a minute, wait a minute...

It looks as if she knew nothing
the anonymous letter

on Shlyakh that Borka and I wrote?

Why did she turn a deaf ear to it?

Could she not know?

Wait a minute... Did I say the word
"anonymous" to her?

No, I don't think so.

Of course not. I'm sure I didn't.

To think I was going
to tell her the whole story.

That would've bee brilliant!

Brilliant, you alcoholic!

You should stop drinking.
Or you'll ruin yourself.

All right, then.

But still I don't understand anything.

Why did she get so pissed off?

Even scared.
Scared of what?

Because I called Dimka an idiot?
Big deal. An idiot.

There was a movie, "The Idiot",
starring Yakovlev.

Besides...

why would she be
fighting for Dimka now?

In this situation. Why?

She's divorced, planning to get
married again,

the boy is not hers, she can turn
him over to his father, that's me,

and start everything anew.

Yet she...

No, they got me
absolutely confused...

Well, well, well.

They've got me confused.

Hands off if you value your life!

His moneybox.

You... why?!
Your own father?!

You cretin!
And if I were wearing my glasses?

Look at that blood, you idiot!

What a cretin!
What a cretin!

Idiot! How can I go home
like this, you goat?

What a cretin!

Open up! Why do you keep
locking yourself up?

It's just a loony bin!

Stupid idiot! Stupid idiot!

To think that up!
A real cretin!

You've raised a delinquent!
His place is in prison!

What are you talking about?

Come to your senses!
What happened?

Go ask your
idiotic skeleton!

I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you.
You were messing in Dimka's drawer?

Oh, I'm sorry.

What are you laughing at?
What's so funny?

Shall I get you some drops?

You've dropped me already. Drops!

Keep your head back.

What do you think I'm doing?

That damned inventor!

Why are you laughing?
I'm bleeding, and she laughs.

It's inuman and heartless.

Remember how you got into a fight
in Gurzuf to defend me?

Yes, only I was doing the hitting.

You know how long I waited?

3,275 days and nights.

I kept track.

Nine years.

You had 3,275 chances to come
back to me and stay here.

I would never have said anything.

Did you know that?

I guess I did.

Keep your head back.
Believe me, you'll feel better.

But you didn't want to.

No, you kept away, until you
disappeared for good.

None of it is my fault. No.

And it's not my fault
that Dimka's the way he is.

He's just a difficult child.

When he was little, I could control
him, but now I don't know...

What size shoes do you wear?
42?

Valya wears a 42, too. And you know
what size Dimka wears? 44.

You can see for yourself,
his shoes are in the hall.

Listen...

maybe we ought to tell Dimka?

What?

The whole truth.

What truth?

That he is...

...not your son.

What?!

Are you crazy?

What's the matter?

Come on, I was just kidding.

Just kidding.
I'll go wash up.

She got scared.

Oh, she really got scared.

So scared!

She was about to burn me
with that kettle.

She doesn't want Dimka to know.
But why?

If she's getting married,
what do they need that present for?

He even isn't her son.

That idiot!
He really got me, didn't he?

Wait a minute...

Perhaps there's nothing
between her and Shlyakh?

He just could have dropped by
a couple of times. He brought cognac.

Or somebody else could have left it.
After all they're Dimka's shoes.

Size 44.
Such a big guy!

He was this small.
Yes, our kids are growing fast.

Stop, stop, stop.

I think I got it.

Perhaps, he doesn't exist?

Perhaps there's no Shlyakh at all?

Fantasy.

A fake, a forgery.

She just invented it,
made up the whole thing.

But why?

I'll tell you why.

Why?

To trap me.

To get me back at any price.

What did she say to me?

I waited for you, you could've
come back, I kept track.

I got it, it must be so!

And I, the old fool, sucked it in,
I believed her: Valya, Valechka...

Not Valya or Valechka,

but Valentin Shlyakhov, that's
how it is.

All right.

Enough of mocking me.
Time to put an end to this comedy.

If I'm right, if Valentin...

is just an invention...

a big fake...

And now I'll have it checked.

We'll check it.

Oh, what a mess.

I'll clean it up. Just a minute.

And how is your...

nose? Is it all right?

Yes, I'm all right now.

I want to talk to you.

Well, go ahead.

I want to tell you something.

The most horrible thing
is telling lies.

And Dimka might not be able to cope
with it when he knows the truth.

So you actually decided to tell Dimka
that I'm not his real mother?

Are you crazy?
Why do you want to do it?

I don't want to lose his respect.

I'll tell him the truth
and I'll take him to live with me.

To live where?

Where?

You think that your wife
and your mother-in-law...

You even didn't want him
to meet Natalya.

He's used to me. It's inuman
to break the child in this way.

- Really?
- Yes.

And when Dimka grows up
and finds out that his own father

had abandoned him
to be raised by strangers,

isn't that even more inuman?

Strangers?

You said strangers?

Yes, strangers.

You heard me, I said strangers.

All right, sit down.

- What do you want?
- To tell Dimka the truth.

He's used to me.

He'll be a nightmare for you.
Your wife won't bear it.

She'll have to.
At least I'll have my son.

You hardly even know him.
You haven't visited us for months.

You know what he calls you?
Not father. Not dad.

He calls you
a remote controller.

Bastard.
But it doesn't change anything.

And I'm not telling you everything.

I don't think he loves you.
I'm sorry, but that's it.

I know I shouldn't say that,
but I really don't know...

You can buy him things
that I cannot afford.

But your house won't be
home to him anyway.

He'll run away from you!

And he will lose me,

he is too silly and cruel yet
to understand that.

It's not easy to deal with him
as it is, but once he knows...

Well...
It's something that must be done.

You!
You're lying!

You're lying to me on purpose!

You even don't remember
the date of his birthday!

Nonsense.

No, it's not nonsense. You don't
remember it!

You've never called
on his birthday!

It's you who is a stranger, not me!

You are a stranger! You!

You! You!

You're a stranger! You!

You're a stranger! You!

You're a stranger! You!

You! You're a stranger!

No, I can't give you...

I can't give Dimka to you.

Well, in this case, you know...

You'll have to make a choice.

Either you...

...and Shlyakh.

- Or...
- Dimka.

Dimka.

Only I want to tell you...

that Valya to me...

is very...

Dimka! I was right!

So there wasn't any Shlyakh,
and could never have been.

A pack of lies! A pure invention!

Dimka?

Dimka.

I'm going to get something to eat.

Don't you ever turn off a light?

Yes?

You know what time it is?

It doesn't matter that
you have to go for the second lesson.

Where are you calling from?

Let me talk to him.

Hello.

No, there's nothing wrong
with my voice.

What are you two doing?

Couldn't you find
a better time for it?

He's a kid, but you're a grownup
man, you could have called.

Oh, yes, I had the phone disconnected.

Please don't be silly.

Yes.

Put him back on.

Dima, I want you home right now.

That's all.

Who was that?

Dimka.

And then?

- What then?
- To whom were you talking then?

To Valya.

And what's he doing there,
at Valya's?

They do mathematics.

Call up Valentin, please.
I want to talk to Dimka.

Why? About what?

Not about that, no.
I just want to talk to my son.

Can I talk to my own son
at least on the phone?

Dial it, you must know his number.
Do you call him often?

I got his number too,
but I don't call him very often.

Let me dial it for you.

And you can tell Valentin

about our,
about your decision.

The sooner the better.
It'll be easier on you.

Go ahead, you take it.

My dear,
Valentin is at a symposium.

In Baku.

He didn't go.

Why? He decided not to go?

Oh, sure, he stayed
to do mathematics with Dimka.

Oh, what a great actress you are!
A real Yermolova.

Stop playacting.
Any fool can see through it.

Is Dimka still there?
Let me talk to him.

Hello? Mom?

Mom?

I'm not here.

Dima.

Didn't I ask you to come home?

Get me Valentin.

Valya.

Valechka.

I wanted to tell you...

I wanted to tell you that...

No, I'm alone, believe me.

Valya, you mustn't come over here
any more.

And don't call me.

Never. Never.

Because...

Because...

That's all.

That's all.

What are you doing to me?

How can it be?

How?
What are you doing to me?

Can it be...

Can it be that here, so close,
there's another life,

where people live by different rules,

where they live so trustfully and so...

...simply?

So simply?!

Oh God, is it possible
to live so simply?!

But this is... this is...

But this is not according to the rules,
it's not how people live!

But why?

Does it mean I'm any worse
than the others?

I'm one of many like me.

Oh, so many...

No, don't answer the phone!
Wait! Open the door!

Open it, I beg you!
Open it! Open up!

- Open up!
- The lock has stuck...

We'll never get out of here!

Shlyakh will be here now.

The streets are empty, it'll take him
10 minutes to get here.

Please, hear me out!

There hasn't been a day that I haven't
dreamed about you and Dimka!

I don't know how to explain it, but
all those 9 years I've been split up.

I lived in that house over there,
but I was dreaming of this one.

I've never been happy there!

They mocked me, laughed at me,
but I lived there

and took advantage of everything
I had despised before.

I dreamt of leaving them, but
I had not enough strength or talent.

I was in a constant hurry.

Too soon I had achieved everything,
on which people spend years,

dozens of years, their whole lives!

But I achieved that in the place
from which you can't get out,

I achieved that in such a way that
now I just can't get out of there!

They've made me a nonentity!

- You can't imagine what I am now!
- Valya!

No, wait, I must finish.

Everything I've written in these years
is either shallow or stolen.

But everything is being forgiven,
everything is allowed!

One is never ashamed of anything!

All my scientific work
isn't won'th a damn thing!

I myself am not won'th a damn thing!

Before, I used to work
for weeks, and now?

I look forward to a day off as if it's
a big holiday. But I don't care.

I don't care a damn! I've always
thought I was an exception.

I believed that everything could be
forgiven for talent. It's not true!

Man isn't the master of his talent,
he's only its conductor.

One who doesn't understand it,
wakes up without talent one day.

And here I am, a loser!

I've squandered my talent, my life
on what you can touch with hands,

on what never remains
in anyone's memory!

I got no talent any more!

Wait. Wait.
Don't run away.

You think I don't know
that Svetka slept with Borka?

I know it.
Everybody knows.

You think I have no idea

about my mother-in-law
turning Natalya against me?

About what she's telling her about me?
I know. I've guessed it.

And that old lecher of an academician

helped me for a kopeck, yet he wants
to get a ruble. But I don't care!

I don't feel anything anymore,
I stopped living.

The only place I was alive was
here, in this house, with you.

I'm sorry. It's too late.

I don't love you anymore.

I don't love you either!

I love no one!
I don't love me anymore!

But suddenly I got frightened
when I realized

that I'd never be able
to come here as before.

Yes, I fell asleep with
Dimka's notebooks in my hands.

But I fell asleep not because
I was bored,

but because only here

I felt at home,
I felt at peace!

I wasn't hungry,
but I ate your cutlets,

because only here
food tasted good to me.

I used to be a fine fellow, wasn't I?

Where did it go wrong?!

Who made me go wrong?
Who got me into this trap? When?!

I'm back at last.

The Chaplin movie is over, I put
Irishka to bed. Now I can continue.

Dimka sent us a letter.
He sends you his regards.

His father visited him in the army,
and they spent a whole day together.

He writes that father's aged
and lost a lot of weight,

but after the hospital he hasn't had
a drop of alcohol in 6 months.

He cried and complained,

blaming everything for his failures,
even the academician's death.

You know, Valya, I think that

every person has a gentle music

playing inside his soul.

His own song, so to speak.

It's the music of his uniqueness,

his being, his essence.

And when the sound
of a person's acts

is out of harmony
with that music,

that person cannot be happy.

Valya! Valechka!

Yesterday I was thinking again
about that horrible night

when you and Dimka broke
down the door to the closet.

Since then, you've often asked me
what I felt that night.

You know, darling, only now, so many
years after, do I realize what I felt.

I felt calm. Calm.

Also, and please don't laugh at me,
I felt a certain strength.

I felt very strong at that moment.

I was afraid of nothing.

I just loved you, and waited for you.

And I thought of our Irishka,
already stirring within me,

only nobody knew it yet,
not even you.

My darling, my beloved,

we can't wait to see you!

Please come soon.
All my love, your wife.

Valya!

The End