Original subtitles

Produced by Studio 2-B-2 Entertainment

with the support of the Federal Agency for Culture and Cinematography

Mikhail Bulgakov

The MASTER and MARGARITA

Woland Oleg Basilashvili

Pilate Kirill Lavrov

Yeshua Sergey Bezrukov

Ivan Homeless Vladislav Galkin

Berlioz Aleksandr Adabashyan

Koroviev Aleksandr Abdulov

Mark Ratslayer Oleg Sorokin

Scribe Stanislav Sokolov

Music Igor Kornelyuk

Cinematographer Valeri Myulgaut

Co-Producer - Ruben Dishdishyan Producer - Vladimir Bortko

Executive Producers Anton Zlatopolsky, Valery Todorovsky

Screenwriter and Director Vladimir Bortko

Part One

You see, Ivan-

-all that is written in the Gospels actually never happened.

When we asked for a long anti-religious poem-

-you wrote it in a very short time, but it did not satisfy us at all.

Your Jesus turned out quite... alive.

Yet not a very appealing personality.

I want to prove to you-

-that this Jesus never existed as a real person.

-Mineral water, please? -There isn't any.

Any beer?

The beer comes later.

-What've you got? -Apricot soda. But warm.

Let's have it!

The devil!

You know, Ivan...

...I nearly got sunstroke.

I even had... like hallucinations.

I'd drop everything and run off to Kislovodsk.

Anyway...

Let me point you to the ancient historians-

-like the famous Philo of Alexandria and the brilliant Josephus Flavius-

-who never mentioned a word about the existence of Jesus.

Or that passage in book 15, ch. 44 of Tacitus's famous Annals -

- the part about Jesus's execution is just a later insertion.

There isn't a single Eastern religion-

-in which a virgin didn't give birth to a god.

The Christians, inventing nothing new, simply created their own Jesus-

-who never existed in reality!

Let's sit.

That's where your emphasis should lie.

I'd like to mention the ancient Egyptian god-

-Osiris, son of Heaven and Earth.

And the Phoenician god, Tammuz. And Marduk.

Even the fierce god Huitzilopochtli, worshipped by the Aztecs...

...in Mexico.

-A German. -An Englishman.

Look, he's not hot in those gloves!

Listen, Ivan!

You wrote a fine satire about the birth of Jesus, the son of God.

But before Jesus, there were many sons of god already.

Like the Phrygian Attis.

In short, none of them were ever born, and no one existed - including Jesus.

Instead of the birth or the arrival of the Magi-

-write about the absurd rumours surrounding them.

Otherwise, the way you tell it, it sounds as if he...

...really was born!

You must admit, it's rather funny!

Sorry, but that's just how it is.

Excuse me, please-

-but I, not being acquainted with you... err, well...

The theme of your learned discussion is so interesting that...

May I sit down?

Please.

Did I hear you right?

Were you saying that Jesus... never lived on the earth?

That's precisely what I said.

And you... agreed with your companion?

A hundred per cent!

Remarkable!

Forgive my impertinence...

...but as I understand it-

-among other things...

...you don't believe in God? I swear, I won't tell anyone.

Yes, we do not believe in God.

And we can speak of it quite freely.

Allow me to thank you sincerely.

What are you thanking him for?

For some very important information-

-which, as a traveller, I find extremely interesting.

So, may I ask you a question?

But what about the proofs of God's existence?

Which, as is well known, there are exactly five of.

None of these proofs are worth a damn.

As you know, in the realm of reason-

-there can be no proof of God's existence.

Bravo!

You've repeated exactly what that restless old man Immanuel said.

But here's the curious thing - he utterly demolished all five proofs.

And then, as if mocking himself-

-he invented his own, sixth proof.

Kant's proof is also unconvincing.

Take this Kant with his proofs. Give him three years in a labour camp!

Ivan!

Exactly.

Exactly!

That's where he belongs!

As I told him once, at breakfast...

"As you wish, Professor, but that doesn't make sense.

"It might sound clever, but it's pure nonsense.

People will laugh at you."

At breakfast with Kant?

Well...

He can't be sent to any camp!

For the simple reason that for over a century-

-he's been in a certain place, far beyond the most distant camps.

I can guarantee... there's no way to bring him back.

-Too bad! -Yes, too bad.

But this question troubles me -

- If God does not exist-

-who, then, rules over human life?

Man rules himself!

Forgive me, but to rule one must have a precise plan-

-for a reasonable length of time, say, at least a thousand years.

Let me ask you - how can one rule-

-if one cannot even control one's own tomorrow?

And indeed, imagine that you, for instance-

-start to rule, giving orders to others and to yourself, getting a taste for it-

-and suddenly... he-he - lung cancer.

Yes, cancer.

And now your ruling is over!

You're only interested in your own fate.

Your family starts lying to you.

Sensing trouble you rush from doctors to charlatans, even fortune-tellers.

All three are equally pointless and useless, as you know well.

And so, the tragic end.

He - who recently thought he was in control of something -

- suddenly finds himself lying stiff in a wooden box.

And the people, seeing that the man lying there-

-is good for nothing, cremate him in an oven.

And yet, it could be even worse!

A man has just decided to run off to Kislovodsk...

A trivial matter, it seems.

But even this he can't manage.

Because, for no apparent reason-

-suddenly he slips, and falls under a tram.

Would you really say he arranged that himself?

Wouldn't it be closer to the truth to say that something else sealed his fate?

-Well... -You'd like to smoke, I see.

What brand do you prefer?

-What, do you have several? -What brand do you prefer?

Well, Our Brand!

Our Brand.

What the devil!

Well...

Yes, man is mortal -

- no one denies that.

-However... -Yes, man is mortal.

But that's only half the trouble.

The greatest tragedy is that he suddenly can be mortal.

That's the trick.

And he can't even say what he'll do this evening.

Well... this evening is more or less clear to me.

Unless, of course, a brick falls on me on Bronnaya Street.

A brick never falls on one's head out of the blue, just like that.

In particular... to you... it poses no threat whatsoever.

I assure you.

You'll die a different death.

-Perhaps you can tell how? -Gladly!

One, two...

Mercury in the second house...

Moon gone...

Evening, six... seven - disaster...

Your head will be cut off!

By whom?

Enemies? Interventionists?

No.

A Russian woman - a Komsomol member.

Well, that is...

...highly unlikely.

Forgive me, but it happens to be - true.

Yes, I'd like to ask you, what are your plans for this evening?

-If it's not a secret? -Not a secret.

Now I'll go home to Sadovaya.

At ten at Massolit.

Moscow Association of Writers-

-where I've the honour... of being the chairman.

A meeting is set for ten tonight, and I'll be chairing it.

No!

That simply... cannot happen.

Why not?

Because Annushka has already bought the sunflower oil.

And not only bought it, but spilled it too.

So the meeting... will not take place.

What's sunflower oil got to do with it, and who's Annushka?

I'll explain the sunflower oil!

Tell me, citizen, have you ever been to a mental clinic?

I have, I have... many times.

Where haven't I been?

It's just a pity... that I didn't think to ask the professor about-

-schizophrenia.

So you'll have to ask him yourself...

...Ivan Nikolaevich.

How do you know my name?

Oh my, Ivan Nikolaevich, who doesn't know the poet Ivan Homeless?

Excuse me...

Would you sit here for a minute?

I need a word with my comrade.

Oh, with pleasure! It's lovely here under the lindens.

Besides, I'm not busy.

Listen, Misha!

He's no tourist, he's a spy.

A Russian émigré who's back. Check his documents or he'll flee.

-Are you sure? -You'd better believe me.

He's playing dumb to sniff things out.

You did hear his Russian? Let's hold him.

Or we'll lose him.

Excuse me, in the heat of our argument I forgot to introduce myself.

Here is my card.

Passport, and the invitation to Moscow - for consultation.

So... you've been invited as a consultant, Professor?

Yes, consultant.

You're German?

Me?

Yes, I suppose I'm a German.

And what's your speciality?

I'm a specialist in black magic.

Naturally!

-You were invited as a specialist? -Yes, that's why.

Here at the State Library they've found authentic manuscripts of-

-Gerbert of Aurillac, a 10th-century sorcerer.

So they need me to decipher them. I'm the world's only specialist.

-You're a historian? -I'm... a historian.

This evening at the Patriarch's Ponds we shall make interesting history.

Never forget that Christ really existed!

You see, Professor, we hold a different view on this...

There's no need for any views - he simply existed!

-That's all! -But surely some evidence...

No evidence is needed! It's all very simple.

In a white cloak

With blood-red lining

And the shuffling gait of a cavalryman

Early in the morning, on the 14th day of the spring month of Nisan

He came out to the colonnade

Between the two wings of Herod the Great's palace

The procurator of Judea

Pontius Pilate.

The accused is from Galilee?

Yes.

-Was the case sent to the tetrarch? -Yes, Procurator.

-What did he say? -He refused to give a judgment-

-and sent the death sentence to you for confirmation.

Bring in the accused.

Was it you who incited the people to destroy the temple of Yershalaim?

-Good man, believe me... -Are you calling me...

...a good man?

The centurion Ratslayer, to me.

The criminal calls me "a good man".

Take him aside for a moment and teach him how to talk to me.

But no maiming!

Roman procurator call Hegemon.

Other word not speak. Stand still.

Understand me or hit you?

I understand, don't beat me.

Name?

Mine?

I know my own.

Yeshua.

Any other name?

Ha-Notsri.

Where do you come from?

The town of Gamala.

Who are you by blood?

I don't know. I don't remember my parents.

I was told that my father was a Syrian.

Where is your permanent residence?

I have no permanent home. I wander from town to town.

That can be put more briefly -

- a vagabond.

Any family?

None. I'm alone in the world.

Do you know any language besides Aramaic?

Yes. Greek.

So it was you who incited the people-

-to destroy the temple of Yershalaim?

Good m...

No, Hegemon, never have I intended to destroy the temple-

-nor have I sought to provoke such an action.

All sorts of people flock into the city for the holiday.

Magicians, sorcerers, wizards, and liars too.

You are a liar.

It is inscribed clearly...

"He urged the destruction of the temple."

So people have testified.

Those good people, Hegemon, haven't listened-

-and have misunderstood all I said.

I'm beginning to fear this confusion...

...will last a very long time.

And all because he writes my words wrongly.

Stop pretending that you're a madman.

What has been written is enough to hang you.

No, Hegemon! There's man who follows me and keeps writing all the time.

Once, I looked at his parchment and was horrified.

I had not said a word of what's written there!

I begged him to burn it, but he tore it from my hands-

-and ran away.

Who's he?

Levi Matthew. He was a tax collector.

At first, he was rude and even insulted me.

He thought calling me a dog would insult me.

But I don't see anything bad in dogs-

-so I was not offended at all.

However, after listening to me he began to soften.

He threw his money on the road and said that he'd follow me.

A tax collector, hear that - throwing money on the road!

Yes.

He said, he'd come to hate money. Since then he's been my companion.

-Levi Matthew? -Yes, Levi Matthew.

So what did you say about the temple-

-to the crowd in the bazaar?

I said the temple of the old faith would fall...

...and a new temple of truth would rise.

I thought it'd be easier to understand.

And why, you vagabond...

...did stir up the people in the bazaar-

-talking about the truth of which you have no idea?

What is truth?

The truth is...

...that your head aches.

And hurts so badly that you're having thoughts of death.

You're not only unable to speak to me-

-but it's even hard for you to look at me.

And I'm now your unwilling torturer-

-which upsets me.

You can't think, and the only thing you want is to call your dog.

It seems it's the only thing you still cling to.

But your suffering will end.

Your headache will pass.

It's gone now!

And I'm glad of it.

I'd advise you, Hegemon, to leave the palace and take a stroll somewhere...

Perhaps in the gardens on the Mount of Olives.

A storm is coming later this evening.

A walk would do you a lot of good, and I'd gladly accompany you.

I've had some new thoughts in my mind, which you might find interesting.

And I would gladly share them with you.

Especially since you seem to be...

...a very intelligent man.

It seems you've become quite isolated...

...and have lost faith in people.

Surely you agree, one can't put all one's love into a dog.

There's no joy in your life, Hegemon.

Untie his hands.

How did you know I wanted to call my dog?

It's quite simple.

You were moving your hand in the air-

-as if you wanted to pet something. And your lips...

Tell me...

You're a great physician?

No, Procurator, I'm not a physician.

Very well.

If you wish to keep it secret, then do so.

It has no direct bearing on the case.

So you maintain that-

-you did not call for the destruction, or burning-

-or any other means of demolishing the temple?

I, the Hegemon...

I have not encouraged anyone to such actions - I repeat.

Do I look like a fool?

Oh no, you don't look like a fool.

Then swear it didn't happen.

What do you want me swear by?

By your life, at least.

It's high time to swear by it.

For it hangs by a thread.

You think you're the one holding it?

Hegemon, if so, you're gravely mistaken.

But I can cut that thread.

In that, too, you're mistaken.

Surely only he who hung the thread can cut it.

Wouldn't you agree?

Now I'm certain the idle onlookers followed you in Yershalaim.

I don't know who polished your tongue, but they did a fine job.

By the way, tell me, is it true that-

-you entered Yershalaim through the Susa Gate-

-riding on a donkey accompanied by a crowd-

-shouting greetings to you, as if to some prophet?

I don't even have a donkey.

I came to Yershalaim through the Susa Gate, on foot.

And only with Levi Matthew.

And no one shouted anything at me, as no one in Yershalaim knew me then.

Do you know such people as Dysmas, Gestas, and Bar-Rabban?

No.

I don't know these good people.

Tell me, why do you keep using the words "good people"?

-Do you call everyone that? -Everyone.

There are no evil people.

And you preach this?

Yes.

And what about the centurion Mark?

The one called Ratslayer. Is he a good man too?

Yes.

But...

...he's an unhappy man.

Since the good people mutilated him, he's become cruel... and callous.

-I wonder who mutilated him? -The good people!

They attacked him like dogs attack a bear.

The Germani grabbed him by his neck, arms and legs.

The infantry maniple was trapped.

And if cavalry troop hadn't charged from the flank -

- when I was in command of it -

- then you, philosopher, would not be talking to Ratslayer now.

If I could talk to him, I'm sure... he would change completely.

Well, that won't happen - fortunately.

And I'll be the first to ensure that.

Write!

The Hegemon has tried the case of Yeshua-

-also known as Ha-Notsri.

He found no grounds for accusation.

Consequently-

-the Sanhedrin's decision-

-to execute Ha-Notsri is not approved by the Procurator.

However, considering-

-that the mad utopian speeches of Ha-Notsri may cause unrest in Yershalaim-

-the Procurator removes Yeshua from Yershalaim...

...and orders his imprisonment-

-in Caesarea Stratonova on the Mediterranean Sea.

That is where the Procurator's residence is located.

Is that all?

Unfortunately not.

The law of insulting His Majesty.

The death penalty is permitted on any day, including holidays.

The accused, and their children, are condemned.

In some cases, even grandchildren.

The relatives of the condemned are forbidden to mourn them.

Listen, Ha-Notsri!

Have you ever...

...said anything about the great Caesar?

Telling the truth is pleasant.

I don't care if telling the truth is pleasant for you or not.

You will have to tell it!

But as you speak, weigh every word!

If you don't want not only an inevitable, but also an agonising death.

Now, answer.

Do you know a certain... Judas, from Kiriath?

And what exactly did you tell him -

- if you did -

- about Caesar?

It happened like this...

The evening before last-

-I met a young man near the temple who called himself Judas-

-from the city of Kiriath.

He invited me to his home in the Lower City-

-and gave me supper.

Is he a good man?

A very good man, eager to learn.

He showed great interest in my thoughts.

And welcomed me very warmly.

Did he light the lamps?

Yes.

He asked me to give my view of the state power.

This question greatly interested him.

And what did you say?

Or will you answer that you've forgotten what you said?

Among other things, I said-

-that every form of power is violence against people.

And a time shall come when there is no power, no Caesars...

...nor any other kind of power.

Man shall enter the kingdom of truth and justice-

-where no power at all will be needed.

Go on!

There was nothing more.

Then people rushed in, started to bind me and took me to prison.

There has never been-

-is not, and never will be-

-a greater, and more beautiful power than the power of Emperor Tiberius.

And it's not for you, mad criminal, to reason about it!

Remove the convoy from the balcony!

Leave me alone with the criminal.

This is a matter of state!

I see, Hegemon, that some misfortune has occurred because of what I said-

-to that young man from Kiriath.

I have a foreboding, Hegemon, that he will suffer misfortune.

And I feel very sorry for him.

I think there is someone else in the world...

...you ought to feel sorrier for than Judas of Kiriath.

So, Mark Ratslayer...

...the cold and confirmed torturer.

The people who, as I see, beat you for your preaching.

The robbers Dysmas and Gestas-

-who killed four soldiers with their accomplices.

And finally, the filthy traitor Judas!

Are all of these good people?

Yes.

And will the kingdom of truth come?

-It will, Hegemon. -It will never come!

It will not!

Criminal!

Yeshua Ha-Notsri...

Do you believe in any gods?

There is only one God. I believe in Him.

Then pray to him.

Pray hard!

However...

...it won't help.

This hateful city...

It would've been better if your throat had been cut before you met Judas.

Would you let me go, Hegemon?

I see they want to kill me.

Do you believe, you wretched man-

-that the Roman Procurator would release a man who has spoken as you have?

Or do you think that I am ready to take your place?

I do not share... your ideas!

And listen to me!

If from this moment on you utter even a single word-

-if you speak to anyone...

Beware of me!

I repeat - beware!

-Hegemon... -Silence!

Come to me!

I confirm the death sentence-

-for Yeshua Ha-Notsri.

Summon the chief of the Secret Service, then the president of the Sanhedrin-

-and the High Priest of Judea, Joseph Kaifa.

It was around ten in the morning...

...dear Ivan... Nikolaevich.

Your tale is interesting, Professor-

-though it differs from the Gospels... -Come now!

You, of all people, should know nothing in the Gospels-

-has ever actually taken place.

If we start treating the Gospels as a historical source...

That's true.

But I greatly fear-

-that no one will be able to confirm what you've just said happened either.

Oh, no!

There is one... who can confirm it.

The fact is...

...I personally was present at the time.

But only in secret. Incognito, so to speak.

So I ask you - tell no one.

Absolute secrecy. Shhh...

How long have you been in Moscow?

I arrived just a minute ago in Moscow.

Yes, yes, it's... all quite possible, very much so-

-Pontius Pilate, the balcony, all that...

Did you come alone or with your wife?

Alone... alone.

I'm always alone.

Where are your things, Professor? At the Metropol?

Where are you staying?

Me?

Nowhere.

What? Where will you live?

In your flat.

Well... I'm certainly flattered, but...

But honestly, it'll be quite uncomfortable for you...

I have a neighbour, comrade Likhodeev.

The Metropol has nice rooms, a first-class hotel...

And there is no devil?

-No devil? -Quiet now, quiet!

There is no devil at all!

This is really interesting. Whatever you say - he does not exist!

-So there is not any?! -But...

Calm down, calm down, Professor.

You'll sit here now... with comrade Homeless.

I'll just pop to the corner to make a quick telephone call.

Then I'll come back and we'll take you wherever you wish.

Well then, make your call.

I beg you, one last time.

Believe at least that the devil exists.

I'm not asking for anything more.

All right, all right!

All right, all right!

Mikhail Alexandrovich!

Would you like me to send a telegram-

-to your uncle in Kiev?

Looking for the turnstile, citizen? This way, go straight ahead.

For guiding you, how about a quarter litre-

-to help an ex-choirmaster regain his strength?

CAUTION - TRAM

Part Two

KIEV UKRAINE

Comrade Poplavsky?

Yes, that's me.

An urgent telegram for you.

JUST RUN OVER BY TRAM PATRIARCH'S PONDS

FUNERAL FRIDAY 3 PM COME

BERLIOZ

Move along, comrades! Keep moving!

-Annushka, our Annushka from Sadovaya. -It's her fault!

Yes, she picked up some sunflower oil at the grocer's.

-Smashed it on the tram tracks. -Spoiled her skirt...

Annushka...

Wait a moment...

Could he have done it all himself?

But how on earth?

No, we'll find all this out.

I'll get to the bottom of it.

Confess, who are you?

No understand. No speak Russian.

He doesn't understand.

Don't pretend. You just spoke perfect Russian.

You're not German nor a professor.

You're a murderer and a spy!

Your documents!

Documents!

-Citizen. -What? -Help me detain this criminal!

It's your duty!

Which criminal?

-Where? -There. -A foreign criminal?

That one?

If he's a criminal...

...the first thing to do is shout "Help!" Or he'll get away.

Together. Now!

Help!

So you're in on it?

I'll turn you in to the militsiya!

Get your tickets, citizens!

Get your tickets.

Tickets, citizens!

No cats allowed!

No one with cats allowed!

Shoo! Off with you, or I'll call the militsiya!

He must have gone through the gate!

He's hiding in the bathroom!

Kirushka, stop that rubbish!

Are you mad! Feodor is back soon. Get out right now!

Loose woman!

Of course!

He's at the Moscow River!

Forward!

Please.

The chairman's got the keys, Bosoy.

Open up!

Where's the late Berlioz's office?

What? Is he dead?

Mikhail Berlioz was killed by a tram. I'm his deputy, Zheldybin.

The deceased's papers will be sealed.

Who else lives in the flat?

The Director of the Variety, Likhodeev.

But he's not here now.

The deceased's papers will be taken for examination.

His living space will revert to the House Committee's control.

His belongings are to be stored in the designated area-

-until the heirs are announced.

I see, I see, I see.

Watch it!

To Griboedov's!

Beyond all doubt, he's there!

Shall we sew the head back on?

No need.

We'll lay out the body in Griboedov hall-

-and cover the deceased's body up to the chin...

-...with a black cloth. -Right!

Let's begin.

Where will you dine tonight, Stepan Bogdanovich?

What a question!

Here at Massolit, of course, dear Grigory Danilovich.

Archibald Archibaldovich hinted to me-

-that today they're serving portions of pike perch - au naturel.

A virtuoso dish!

Yes, you do know how to live, Stepan Bogdanovich.

I've no special talents.

Just a wish to live like a human being.

Well, you could dine at home.

I don't think so!

I can just imagine your wife-

-trying to whip up in a little saucepan -

- in a communal kitchen -

- portions of pike perch au naturel.

Hmm, yes.

GRIBOEDOV HOUSE

A salute to the Red Army!

But where is Berlioz?

We've been waiting for two hours.

Midnight's close, but Herman's not here.

He's probably stuck at Klyazma. At the dacha.

I've been sending my ill wife there for three years - no luck yet!

Don't envy, comrades.

There are only 22 dachas and Massolit has 3,111 members.

Naturally, the dachas went to the most talented among us.

The generals!

Latunsky has five rooms in Perelygino.

Lavrovich has six rooms, with an oak-panelled dining room.

But that's not the point. The point is, it's half past eleven.

Berlioz could've made a call.

Shall we go downstairs... and have supper, comrades?

Hallelujah!

Karski shashlik, Zubrowka vodka and flaki gospodarski.

I should mention that this flat, where I now live-

-has long had a bad reputation.

Two years ago, the owner was a jeweller's widow -

- Anna Frantsevna de Fougeray.

She let three rooms to two lodgers.

One was named Belomut...

And the other's name has been lost.

Anyway, two years ago, strange things started happening in this flat.

From this flat...

...people... began to disappear without a trace.

One Sunday, a militsiya officer came to the flat-

-called the second tenant and said he was asked -

- just for a minute -

- to the militsiya station to sign something.

But the tenant didn't come back in a minute.

In fact, he never came back...

...ever!

The second tenant vanished on Monday. And on Wednesday -

- Belomut disappeared into thin air.

A car came for him...

Well, to take him to work. And it took him away...

...but it did not... bring anyone back.

Let's drink.

Well, anyway...

Then they moved into this flat...

...Berlioz and his wife.

And I...

I was also still...

...married.

Well, quite naturally-

-within a month - both wives disappeared.

But not without a trace.

Berlioz's wife was supposedly seen in Kharkov with some ballet master.

As for my wife, I got her a room.

But on one condition -

- that she would never set foot on Sadovaya again!

And tomorrow, exactly at noon...

...I'll come to visit you.

No, no, I won't be home.

But I'll come - anyway!

No, no, don't.

Where, where are you going?

Berlioz!

-What about Berlioz? -What about Berlioz?

Berlioz!

Berlioz was hit by a tram!

Just now at the Patriarch's.

Hit by a tram.

What, what, what? Let me through!

It is necessary now, without leaving this place-

-compose a collective telegram and send it off immediately!

Berlioz, how will we help him? By staying hungry?

We can't just waste the chicken cutlets de volaille.

But we're still alive!

What's wrong with Ivan Nikolaevich...?

What's the matter, citizen? What do you want?

Homeless?

Hello, friends!

We need to tie him up!

That's it - delirium tremens!

Militsiya!

He's not here.

How could the militsiya let him roam like that?

They tried to stop me twice.

First in Skaterny, then here on Bronnaya.

But I jumped over the fence!

What did he say?

Brothers in literature!

Listen to me!

-What a clown! -He has appeared!

Catch him immediately, before he wreaks havoc!

-Who has appeared? -The consultant!

This consultant was at the Patriarch's-

-and killed Misha, Berlioz.

I beg your pardon.

What do you mean, who killed him?

A foreign consultant. A professor and a spy...

What's his name?

What's his name?

Yes.

How would I know his name?

I couldn't read it on his visiting card.

All I remember is the letter W.

W.

-His name starts with W. -Name?

What surname starts with W?

W-W-We... Wa-Wo...

Winner, Wagner, Wolfgang, Winter.

-Wolff! -Fool!

Nothing to do with Wolff!

Wolff is innocent!

Wo...

I can't remember!

Look here, citizens!

Call the militsiya!

Send five machine-gun motorcycles to catch the professor!

And don't forget to mention there are two others with him.

One tall, checkered figure with cracked pince-nez.

And a cat, black, fat.

Meanwhile, I'll search Griboedov's.

-I sense he's here. -Comrade Homeless, calm down.

You're upset by the death of our Mikhail Alexandrovich-

-to us, simply Misha Berlioz.

We all understand perfectly. You need rest.

Now comrades will see you home and you'll sleep...

Doctors, doctors!

Don't you get it? He must be caught, you idiot!

-Forgive me, comrade. -No one else but you!

Bind him with towels!

Let go, you scoundrels!

-Didn't you see his underwear? -But, Archibaldovich-

-how could I not let him in? He's a member of Massolit!

Listen, Nikolai. This is the last time.

We don't need such doormen in our restaurant.

Go and be a watchman in a church.

Quick! Get Pantelei from the buffet.

Militsiya officer. Protocol. A car. Send it to the psychiatric hospital.

Whistle!

-Untie me, you bastards! -Carry him to the gates.

I'm going to get you! Just wait!

This way!

Come here, I'll take 'em to the psychics!

That's it, you filthy poet! You hook-nosed scum!

Here, Doctor, is the famous poet, Ivan Homeless.

We fear he has delirium tremens.

Has he seen spiders, white mice, little devils or limping dogs?

He wasn't that drunk.

I saw him yesterday and today. He looked fine.

-Why in underwear? -He came into the restaurant like that.

Aha!

Let me go, you bastards!

How do you do.

Greetings, saboteur!

How old are you?

Go to the devil, get off!

Why so angry? Did I say something unpleasant?

Because I'm perfectly sane! They dragged me into this madhouse!

You're not in a madhouse, but in a clinic.

No one will keep you here without good reason.

Well, thank the Lord!

Finally, one normal person among these idiots.

The worst is that moron Sashka!

-Who is this Sashka-moron? -It's him. Riukhin, the poet!

So that's how he says thanks.

What trash… really!

A typical little kulak, psychologically.

Worse still - a kulak masquerading as a proletarian.

Just look at his gloomy face!

And his pompous May Day poem, "Rise up and fly high!"

Take a good look inside his head!

-You'll faint! -A viper in my bosom.

Why were you brought to us?

Devil knows why!

They tied me up and dragged me here!

But why come to a restaurant in underwear?

Nothing special about it!

I went for a swim, they took my clothes, and left me with this.

I couldn't walk naked! I put on what I could...

...and rushed to Griboedov's.

The restaurant's called that.

Why were you in such a hurry?

-I'm after the consultant. -What consultant?

Do you know Berlioz?

-The composer? -What composer?

Ah, yes!

Not him!

The composer shares a surname with Misha Berlioz.

The secretary of Massolit, Berlioz, was killed by a tram at the Patriarch's.

Don't talk rubbish! I was there - not you!

He put him under the tram.

-Pushed him? -He did not push! He didn't need to.

He pulls tricks like that all the time.

He foresaw Berlioz would get hit by the tram!

What did you do to catch this killer?

Here's what I did!

-I took a candle from the kitchen. -And the icon?

Well... the icon.

The icon scared them the most.

But the thing is... that he, the consultant...

He...

Let's be frank!

He's in league with unclean powers. You won't catch him easily.

Yes, in league. That's an undeniable fact!

He personally spoke with Pontius Pilate!

Don't stare at me like that! It's true!

He saw it all - the balcony and the palm trees.

He was with Pontius Pilate, I can vouch for it!

Oh, it's two. I'm wasting my time.

Excuse me, where's the telephone?

Let him use the telephone!

-Is he married? -Single.

-Trade union member? -Yes.

Militsiya?

Comrade on duty, give orders for five machine-gun motorcycles-

-to arrest the foreign consultant!

What?

Come and pick me up, I'll go with you.

It's the poet Homeless, speaking from the madhouse.

Doctor, address?

Are you listening?

Hello!

Outrageous!

-Farewell! -Where are you going?

You're not well, stay here with us.

No thank you!

Let me through.

I said let me through!

So that's it? All right then.

So these are the windows you've got here!

Let me go, let me go I said!

Let me go, you swine! You have no right!

Bandits!

Let go!

Release him.

They've locked me up, after all...

Well, that's just as well...

I've warned you... so now it's up to you-

-but you'll pay for it yourselves.

A bath, room 117, and post a guard.

-Doctor, is he very ill? -Oh yes.

What's wrong with him?

Schizophrenia, I think.

And on top of that, alcoholism.

At the moment-

-I'm most... interested in-

-Pontius Pilate.

Hegemon.

Hegemon.

I've tried the case of Yeshua Ha-Notsri and confirmed the death sentence.

Thus, three criminals have been sentenced to death-

-Dysmas, Gestas, Bar-Rabban...

...and then that... Yeshua Ha-Notsri.

The first two are under the Procurator, nothing more about them.

But the other two, Bar-Rabban and Ha-Notsri-

-were arrested by the authorities and sentenced by the Sanhedrin.

According to law and custom, one of them must be released-

-in honour of the upcoming great Passover feast.

So I'd like to know which of the two criminals-

-the Sanhedrin intends to release?

Bar-Rabban...

...or Ha-Notsri?

The Sanhedrin requests the release of Bar-Rabban.

To be honest, that answer surprised me.

In this case, there is an obvious mistake.

The crimes of Bar-Rabban and Ha-Notsri are not comparable.

If Yeshua is merely a madman, then Bar-Rabban-

-is guilty of a much greater crime.

He openly incited rebellion and revolt-

-and killed a guard.

For this reason, I ask the High Priest to reconsider this decision-

-and free the one who is less dangerous.

And that, without doubt, is Ha-Notsri.

And now?

The Sanhedrin has carefully considered the case-

-and repeats for the second time that they intend to release Bar-Rabban.

What!

Even after my request?

The request of one who speaks on behalf of Roman authority?

Say it a third time... High Priest!

And for the third time i state - we will release Bar-Rabban.

Very well.

So be it!

I'm suffocating, suffocating...

The air is heavy, Procurator. A thunderstorm is brewing.

What a dreadful month Nisan has been this year!

No, it's not because of the heavy air.

It's your presence that suffocates me, Kaifa!

Watch yourself... High Priest.

What am I hearing, Procurator?

Are you threatening me over a sentence you yourself confirmed?

Can this truly be?

We're used to the Roman Procurator choosing his words with care-

-before he speaks.

Let's hope no one overheard us, Hegemon.

What's wrong with you, Kaifa?

Who could possibly hear us now?

Do I look like the young fool-

-who will be executed today?

Am I a boy, Kaifa?

I know...

...what I say and where I say it!

There's a wall around the garden and the palace.

So there's not even a crack for a mouse to slip through!

And not just a mouse-

-but even that man...

What's his name... from the town of Kiriath?

You remember him... High Priest?

If someone like him came here, he'd regret it bitterly!

You'd better believe me!

So know this, High Priest.

From now on, you'll have no peace.

Neither you nor your people!

It is I who tell you this.

Pontius Pilate - the Rider of the Golden Spear.

I know.

I know-

-that you hate the Jewish people-

-and will cause them much suffering!

But you will not destroy them.

God will defend them!

He'll hear us...

He'll hear us, the mighty Caesar and protect us from Pilates terror!

No, Kaifa!

You've complained about me to Caesar too often.

Now my time has come!

Now I will spread the message-

-how you in Yershalaim are shielding known criminals from death!

It's not just one cohort you'll see here in Yershalaim, no!

The whole XII Fulminata Legion will come!

The Arab cavalry will arrive and you'll hear bitter cries and mourning!

Then you'll remember that you saved Bar-Rabban.

And you will regret that you sent-

-a philosopher with his peaceful message to his death.

Do you believe yourself what you're saying now?

It was not peace the rabble-rouser brought to Yershalaim.

And you, horseman, understand that very well!

You want to release him to divide the people-

-to mock their faith-

-and lead the people under Roman swords!

But I -

- the High Priest of Judea -

- as long as I live... I will not allow that to happen-

-and I will protect my people!

Do you hear me, Pilate?

Listen carefully, Procurator!

You really think all this was caused by that wretched robber, Bar-Rabban?

It's almost noon.

We got caught up in our conversation-

-but we must carry on.

I must pronounce the sentence.

-Stepan! -Ah...

If you don't get up right now... you'll be shot.

Shoot me...

Do what you like to me...

...but I'm not getting up.

Good morning, most charming Stepan Bogdanovich!

What can I do for you?

It's eleven.

I've been waiting an hour for you to wake up-

-because... you told me to be here at ten.

Here... I am.

Excuse me...

Tell me your name, please.

What! You've forgotten my name?

Forgive me...

Yesterday I may had a little too... I'll take an aspirin.

No, my dear Stepan Bogdanovich, aspirin won't help you.

You should follow the wise old rule - treat like with like.

The only thing that'll bring you back to life is-

-two shots of vodka with something pickled and spicy.

-And you? -Ah, with pleasure!

Well, I hope you can remember my name now.

However, I feel that after vodka you drank port wine.

You should not mix like that.

-I beg you to keep it between us... -Of course!

But as for Khustov, needless to say, I can't vouch for him.

Ah, so you know Khustov?

Ah, I saw him briefly with you yesterday.

One quick look at his face was enough to see he's a bastard!

A Scoundrel!

A blockhead!

-A bootlicker! -Absolutely true.

Absolutely true!

Professor of black magic, Woland.

Yesterday afternoon, I arrived from abroad in Moscow-

-went immediately to see you and offered my show to the Variety.

You called to the Moscow Spectacles Commission-

-and had the question approved.

Then, you signed a contract with Professor Woland-

-for seven performances-

-and agreed that Woland would come to you to clarify the details-

-at ten o'clock today.

So here I am.

Seeing your condition I sent maid Grunya to the grocery store.

Let me compensate you.

Oh, don't be silly!

-May I have...

-...a look at the contract? -Of course!

And a receipt for the advance payment of 10,000 roubles.

Yee!

One second!

Please!

The last thing I needed!

Ah, Berlioz...

This is too much!

Yes?

Hello, Grigory Danilovich! This is Likhodeev.

There's a certain matter. I have t-this...

...artiste, Woland.

Mmh?

He's sitting here... you see...

I wanted to ask, how about this evening?

-Black magic? -Yes.

The posters will be ready. You'll be coming soon?

In half an hour.

Grunya!

What's this cat doing here? Where's it from?

Don't worry, Stepan Bogdanovich. The cat is mine.

Don't be nervous.

And Grunya is not here. I sent her to Voronezh.

She complained to me that you refused her holiday.

I can see you're a bit surprised... my dear Stepan Bogdanovich.

And yet, there's nothing to be surprised about.

This is my retinue.

And this retinue requires space.

It seems... there's just one too many of us in this flat.

And I dare say that this one too many...

...is precisely you.

Theirself, theirself!

Theirself's been acting like swine lately!

Drinking, chasing women, and abusing their positions.

They do nothing, can do nothing, and know not a thing of their duties!

Cheating their bosses.

Hisself abuses the government car!

That's right!

I honestly can't understand-

-how he ended up as a director.

He's as much a director...

...as I'm a bishop.

Permit me, Messire, to cast him away - from Moscow.

Messire, let me...

Shoo!

I beg you...

Tell me... what city is this?

Really?

I-I'm not drunk, I-I'm not well.

Something happened to me, I'm ill.

Where am I?

-What town is this? -It's Yalta.