Original subtitles

I'm Joe Merrick, Moscow correspondent...

for the Chicago Herald.

I leave Moscow for good next month. I'm quitting the paper to write a book,

a book that ends in this courtyard,

where I said my last good-bye to Oktyabrina.

They say the cold of a Russian winter can kill even a memory.

But the memory of the one year I knew her...

will be with me always.

How come you're not working today?

I am critically ill. Strange and terrible pains from the duodenum.

I have a sick pass.

I'll bet.

Your friend the nurse? That's right! My beautiful nurse.

Hey, hey! This cost me one pair of stockings and a box of Tampax.

Oh.How are you?

I'm pretty good.Good.

How are you?

Well, I'm ready to sell.Good. I'm going to be rich.

Who's your fence, the Holy Ghost? Ballet teacher.

All right. Who else would you expect to find in a church?

Nobody here! Only children...

It's all right. We want to see Ignatievitch.

Hello! Aloha, Kostya. Darling.

How do I look, angel? Beautiful!

I purchased it from the most inspiring old woman.

She wore it the evening she was seduced by Rasputin.

Joe, let me present Oktyabrina.

This is my old friend Joe. He is from America.

He's a journalist.

How superbly exciting. But I thought Americans were so marvelously dashing.

Well, I had a difficult childhood.

Hunger, exploitation, class struggle.

You know how it is over there.

Yes. Yes, I do.

Oktyabrina, we are waiting for you to dance the dying swan.

You must stay and watch me dance.

Hey, maestro.

Maestro... Kostya!

I will not have you interrupting my art. Please, sit down.

I found out what the swan's dying of... frostbite.

Listen. I have clothes for sale.

American clothes.

American clothes? Yeah.

Hey. What about your art?

Ars longa, vita brevis.

What?

Art lives long.

Life is short.

Let's see the clothes.Yeah.

Here.

What about that?

Well, what did you think?

Very good.

"Very good."

I can see you know nothing about ballet.

You happen to be right. How can you tell?

Because praise in ballet is like applause. It must always be excessive.

"Very good" is practically an insult.

What's Kostya selling this time? Clothes.

My wife's old clothes. Oh, my poor darling.

Did she get fat and ugly and make you buy a whole new wardrobe for her?

No, she died a couple of months ago.

I'm so sorry.

I really am.

You're hardly past the crying time.

Past the what?

It's an old Russian custom.

For 40 days after the death is the period of crying.

And for those who are deeply bereaved,

you visit the grave site every day for 40 days.

Well, her grave is in Topeka, Kansas,

and the marriage was buried in Reno, Nevada, about a year ago.

It's an old American custom.

Can I ask you something... a personal, intimate question about your wife?

I don't mean to pry or open any old wounds or anything,

but can I ask you something?

What is it?

Did she have any black silk underpants?

Yes, she did.

Can I buy them? Ask the maestro.

Sounds good. Doesn't sound like dance music.

It isn't.

You play jazz somewhere?

No. Not officially.

What do you play officially?

Dance music.

Aren't they divine?

Ten rubles. Not bad. He wanted 15.

Ten rubles? You were robbed. Wait a minute.

I don't think so. See what we got here.

Look.

No. Ah! That's the winner.

What you do? Withdrawn from the sale.

A free gift with every purchase.

Another old American custom.

Oh, it's beautiful. Thank you.

Thank you so much!

Hey, I'd like to talk to you.

Uh, jazz in the Soviet Union... I'd like to do a piece on it in my paper.

Could we talk sometime?

It might be difficult.

Well. Yes?

Erroll Garner? Right.

I talk all you want if you put that on tape for me.

It's a deal.Great.

You can come back for tea.

Wonderful Russian tea.

Only we know how to make it properly.

Of course, if you don't want tea, we can always stop off at your place...

and get some American coffee or scotch or American cigarettes.

It'll be okay. No offense will be taken.

Just tea will be fine.

You two live together?

We share the room... with three others.

She's not my girlfriend, if that's what you mean.

She has a man who looks after her. An important man.

Come on, hurry up!

She have a job? No.

She doesn't even have papers to live in Moscow.

She's crazy to be living here...

without papers.

Tatiana Sergeyevna, we're having some people to tea.

Thank you.

One more stop and we're there.Good.

It's not a real boardinghouse. There's no rules or anything.

The landladies can't make rules because we threaten to report them...

for running an illegal boardinghouse.

Here's a big favorite of the Red Army.

"Meadowland" as played by Fats Waller.

Christ.

Hey, Joe. You're crazy.

Fats Waller... you ever hear of him?

'40s, New York. Terrific.

Okay?

Music was part of my life.

My mother played the violin for the Kiev Orchestra. Oh.

Come on in here. Let's have some tea.

Kostya. Bloody crazy mad.

This place is bugged. So?

Joe, this is for you. Here. Sit down here. This is my favorite chair.

Uh, Kostya, sit here. Here, Leonid.

Come.

Here's your tea. Thank you.

So, your mother played for the Kiev Orchestra.

Did she play when Vasily Yushken was conductor?

Um, how do you know so much about my country?

Oh, I studied Russian at college.

And I was a translator for a while.

Then I wrote a quarterly magazine about Russia for the U.N.

And then what? You, um, ran away to see?

Uh, then I, uh, took a master's at Harvard and a mistress at Radcliffe.

Radcliffe... what's that?

Uh, it's a college.

Ah.

Your mistress... did she become your wife?

Mm-hmm.

Tragic.

So tragic.

I would like to play something for you.

Yes, Leonid, sweetheart. Oh, God.

Darling, don't be nervous. Sit down.

Here. Nadia, excuse me, sweetheart.

Would you sit here, please? Leonid's going to play.

All right.Volodya. Volodya, come on.

Leonid's playing. Here. How are you?

Sit here. That's right. How are you?

Good.

Excuse me, please.

Beautiful.

But you'll never get it played in public.

Not here.

What about your interview?

He's just given it to me.

I have something I want to give you in exchange for that beautiful hat.

Hmm.

For you.

They're beautiful.

Dominoes. They're ivory.

They're valuable.

Well, you're cleaning out your attic, and I'm cleaning out mine.

Mine was sold, not given away. Oh, but you're American.

Listen, you fascist dayan of the capitalist press.

A man buys his friend lunch. Does it have to be about something?

In your case, yes.

I'm delivering you to the pet store, 2:00.

She wants to see your apartment.

She phoned me four times last night. Joe? Kostya!

Oktyabrina? Kostya!

- Kostya. - Ah.

Joe. Ah. Hello.

Ooh, what a wonderful surprise.Ah.

What's the matter?

Oh, just life being full of wonderful surprises.

Uh, listen. I got an idea.

How'd you like to come back to my apartment?

Oh, what a marvelous idea. I thought you'd like it.

Oh, I'm so happy.

Uh, the only problem is fascist hyenas often have to work at home.

So, if you wouldn't mind making it a brief visit.

Oh, I'm afraid it will have to be brief,

as I have a terribly busy day.

All right.

Hasn't it got a door?

Not for Russian girls, it hasn't.

Especially girls who don't have papers.

You want to get me thrown out of the country? Yes.

But it isn't against the law, is it?

You don't have to break the law to get thrown out of this country.

Well, I just hope it's worth it. That's all.

The ledge.

Go along there.

Then the fire escape.

Right?

Boris?

Show the lady upstairs, will you?

Give me a minute.

Follow the map.

Don't look down.

This is quite ridiculous.

Follow me, please.

I got it!

Vittorio.

Ciao, Joe.

Quite ridiculous.

And dangerous.

Things get handed down in these apartments.

The last tenant, Jean Talant, Paris Match, left the curtains.

Kurt Meisner of Der Spiegel is responsible for the carpets and red wine stains.

The new stuff is from Helsinki.

My wife's hobby was buying.

It's a palace.

Does it have a bath? Sure.

The bathroom.

The triumph of design over cleanliness.

One bath with pre-revolution stains.

One john which could drown out the "1812 Overture."

One cabinet... malfunctioning latch.

Ah, shit.

My paper's research fund.

Uh...

You know, a lot of your countrymen don't want to talk to me,

but it's amazing how they'll talk to old George Washington here.

What's this?

A bidet.

What's it for? Washing yourself.

But you've got a basin. Lower down.

Ah! A footbath.

Higher up.

How utterly, supremely decadent.

You mean, for washing yourself?

Fantastic. Fantastic.

Um, would... could... Uh, could...

Could I have a bath, please, with hot water?

Well, sure. Help yourself.

Thank you.

Call if you need anything.

Just as abstract painting is still frowned upon,

progressive jazz is little known and indeed suppressed.

The sanction is simple:

If a musician steps out of line, his work permit is removed...

and he can no longer work in his own field.

Have you been waiting long, sweetheart?

No.

Been working.

I worked through five complete changes of bathwater,

three showers, two toilet flushes,

30 Russian folk songs and four hours.

It was a beautiful bath.

So, where are we going?

We're going nowhere. I'm going to the cable office.

Closes at 8:30, but you have to file before 8:00.

They like a half hour to put in the spelling mistakes.

I drop you off home, okay? Good.

It's just as well.

I have a date tonight anyway. Oh?

Sure you don't want to freshen up for it?

I hope you're not planning on having an affair with me.

Why do you say that?

Because I... I'm completely unfaithful.

I get bored. That's always been my problem, even as a child.

Well,

where do we go tomorrow?

Who says there's gonna be a tomorrow?

There's always a tomorrow, like it or not.

We have an old Armenian proverb:

"Wild ducks and tomorrow both come without calling."

Geez!

Be in touch about the wild ducks.

Comrade Savinovitch,

chairman of the heavy agricultural machinery production plant,

has been awarded the Order of Lenin,

Third Class.

This was mainly due to the brilliant reorganization...

of the workforce at Novosibirsk...

which released 28,000 citizens for other work.

So we have a mutual friend.

She is very vulnerable.

I wouldn't know.

Hmm.

Would you like a drink?

Good of you to invite me.

Good of you to accept.

Three-star Armenian brandy.

All our drivers, of course, are paid by the K.G.B.,

but Ivan here is very reliable.

I never report him for running a private taxi service on the side.

Uh-oh.

Or stealing gas, windscreen wipers...

spare tires.

You know, my car goes through a lot of spare tires.

Oh, yeah?

So you gave her...

some black silk underpants. That's right.

How do they look?

No woman can look bad in...

black silk underwear.

You know, Oktyabrina talks about you a lot.

Talks a lot about you too.

Does she?

Does she really? Never stops.

Oh, no, no.

Oh, boy.

♪ Snow is bright tonight

My God.

Why don't you give that guy a ticket?

Ivan... Ivan, my friend.

Are you sober enough to drive?

Yeah. Course I am.

Certainly too drunk to walk.

You know, he has two jokes. That's one of them.

Oh, boy.

What's the other one?

Tell him.

Tell me, boy. What is it? Tell him.

What is transitional period...

from socialism to communism?

Uh...

Uh...

You tell me.Alcoholism.

I love it!

Valerie, send these transparencies...

in the next pouch to the New York office.

Tell them the text will be wired next, uh...

next Thursday.

Well, aren't you ready yet? The minister's waiting.

We have a long drive into the country.

What the hell is this?

Joseph, could you look after my plants for a while?

Poor Leonid gets the most terrible hay fever from them.

And, well, there's so much more sunshine and air in here.

And they'll be no trouble at all.

Well, come on. Let's go. It's a beautiful day.

I'll be right there.

Th-This is you?

What?

This. Yeah, I wrote it.

Oh.

I-It's a terrible photograph.

Doesn't look a bit like you.

What's it about?

Your early years?

Your first sexual experiences?

The trade union movement in the American South.

How boring. I bet nobody read it.

Just the Pulitzer prize committee. It was a bad year.

Why do you write stories about that?

Why don't you write stories about romance and passion?

About me?

Why don't you write about me?

I don't write fiction.

Come on. Let's go.

Just once...

Just once I would like to go to Paris.

See the streets. See the sights.

Then eat a wonderful French meal.

Then go to one of those places where the girls take all their clothes off.

But I never will.

Ah, don't complain.

You got a good job,

government apartment, the dacha out here,

a car...

Hell, you got what every American thinks he wants.

You don't have any credit problems or status problems...

or the Internal Revenue Service to worry about.

Maybe you're right.

Hmm. No worries.

Maybe that's what makes us so sad.

One, two, ready, and...

♪ Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet Not anymore ♪

♪ Heartaches, heartbreaks Not anymore ♪

♪ Make life really worth living for ♪

♪ No more tears, no more tears Happy years ♪

♪ Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet Not anymore ♪

♪ Heartaches, heartbreaks Not anymore ♪

♪ Make life really worth living for ♪

♪ No more tears, no more tears Happy years ♪

♪ Yesterday, today and tomorrow That is the way time goes ♪

♪ Will it bring us laughter or sorrow? ♪

♪ Until it does, who knows? ♪

♪ It may be the future is fated, already written, some say ♪

♪ Should we be afraid while we're waiting for it to come our way? ♪

♪ Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet ♪

♪ Not anymore ♪

♪ Heartaches, heartbreaks ♪

♪ Not anymore ♪

♪ Make life really ♪

♪ Worth living for ♪

♪ No more tears No more tears ♪

♪ Happy years ♪

Happy birthday. Happy birthday.

Happy birthday. Happy birthday.

Thank you all so much.

Joe, for the gloves.

Kostya, for the brandy.

And my little October, for everything.

For more than a month now,

I have been trying to find the courage to tell you.

Trying to find the courage to tell you myself the truth.

But I have failed.

I'm being moved from Moscow.

Leaving Moscow? Why?

Targets... Impossible targets.

Everyone knew our department could never reach them.

I'm being sent to Speranska.

A new project.

They call it a promotion.

Oh, my poor darling.

I should have told you before, but...

but I have no courage... no courage for these things.

Oktyabrina!

You came. What a wonderful surprise.Sergei.

And Kostya! And Joe.Sergei.

Sergei. I'm so happy.

I thought I was going to... Comrade.

We represent the Workers' Committee of Section 2, fourth floor.

We are here to wish our beloved minister good-bye.

That girl won in an office ballot...

the honor of kissing him farewell.

That's right, comrade. Do your duty.

Yeah.

Sergei, the train is leaving.

Sergei!

Bye.

I'll cry so much tomorrow.

Get down. Get down! Get down! What?

What's the matter? Stay down.

You're hurting my arm.

Driving past your house.

Okay. What was the K.G.B. doing in there?

It was an illegal boardinghouse.

There are lots of them. Why this one?

Did you see Leonid? No.

Oh, I don't think they got him. Because of his music?

No, because he's trying to leave the country.

He's telling everybody. He's asking everybody for help. He's so stupid.

But he's going to need help.

Joe, wake up.

Wake up, Joe. What's happening?

Christ, what is it?

I've come to pay the rent.

You what?

I want this clearly understood. It's a business arrangement.

I will satisfy your lust and give you my body once a week...

in exchange for the use of your apartment, including bathroom.

Go back to bed. It's 4:00 a.m. in the goddamn morning!

I would prefer it not on weekends or the evenings before my ballet classes.

And I'll notify you of any other inconvenient times.

Listen!

You're skinny, Russian...

and here at a bad time.

I don't want any deals. I want eight hours sleep. Good night.

Tonight would be a very bad time, you understand.

Impossible, in fact.

Oh.

Oktyabrina.

Look.

I do want you.

I just don't want you as rent.

Any man would want you. I know. That's what I kept trying to tell you.

But tonight's impossible. I have ballet class in the morning.

Christ.

You're infuriating.

Joe? Yeah.

Those police...

must have taken my beautiful white hat.

The old ladies were held for a couple of days and then got off with a fine.

Nikolai lost his Moscow residence papers.

He got sent back to Zubirsk.

Leonid?

They claim they've never heard of him.

Which means they're still looking but haven't found him yet.

Hmm.

No. No.

What's the matter?

I kissed you. Just a little surprise.

Well, I wasn't expecting it.

You're not meant to expect surprises.

I'm sorry I bothered.

Well, don't apologize.

After all, it isn't the first time this has happened to me, you know.

The second?

The first time, I was raped.

It was a man called Dudnikov.

He had the most fantastic mustache.

He carried me off to the mountains...

for... for a... a whole month of love.

It was a most passionate affair.

I was only 16.

I suppose you think that's rather early to be someone's mistress.

I suppose you don't believe me.

Oktyabrina, you don't have to make up stories.

You don't have to explain anything.

Not to people who like you.

Oh, Joe.

Not making up stories for people who like you.

I've never even begun to think that way.

Joe,

you are wonderful.

From now on, we'll tell each other everything.

The true truth.

Okay.

Oh, it's so sad.

"The true truth."

Will you hurry up?

I have to shave.

We have an old saying: "Truth is bread, but dreams are butter."

I'm going to be with Ignatievitch today until 3:00.

And then I'm going to have tea with Raya and pay her for that blouse.

It only cost me three packages of Gillette.

And then I'm going out with Yelda.

6:00. She has a new denim jacket I might swap for some deodorant.

Ah!

Listen, do you want any cherries?

She can get you some for a bottle of aftershave.

No cherries!

Oh, by the way, you're out of razor blades, deodorant and aftershave.

Razor blades, deodorant and aftershave. God, help me!

Who is that? Shevodzia.

Joseph Shevodzia.

He's from the Caucasus.Good.

Number 2.

He will be gold medalist when Olianovitch retires.

Tell me, how is the affair coming along?

Affair?

The other night she woke me up at 4:00 in the morning...

and offered herself as rent.

The arrangement's about as sexy as Lenin's tomb.

Well, I tell you, she totally confuses love with pity.

Now, if you were some...

poor washed-out mouse of a minister,

or some... starving, consumptive poet,

she would love you to death.

Take the rent.

Ah, no. I took the rent off my wife for three years.

I'm tired of being a landlord.

Well, you tell her that and she will produce a big,

handsome rival to hide behind.

That's what she'll do.

Tell me something.

Does Leonid really have, uh, hay fever?

No!

No. I told you, she likes you.

She trusts you with her plants, doesn't she?

Yeah. Well, plants.

Plants.

If I said I felt like a sophomore hoping to score, would you know what I meant?

Good.

First set the mood...

Hey, where you been the last few days?

Ballet?

No, I think I'll give up ballet. It's counterproductive.

Anyway, I only did it to keep the minister happy.

Hey, I got a present for ya.

The Institute of Culture is showing a sensational new French movie...

that they're certainly gonna ban.

I got tickets for the only screening it will ever have in the Soviet Union.

That's very interesting.

You've been asking me to get you into a wicked capitalist movie for 10 weeks.

I said that's very interesting.

What are you reading?

Oh, just a little book.

Training manual for the Soviet infantry.

I don't believe it.

My God, I believe it.

Oktyabrina, would you please tell me...

just what in the hell interests you in a training manual for the Soviet infantry?

Our nation's defense just happens to depend upon it.

Hey, who's this guy?

Oh, him? He's my new lover.

Hey.

What's the matter?

You knew what kind of film it was. That's why you ran away.

You didn't like it? Oh, it was awful.

I was so bored. I fell asleep.

Nobody was enjoying being decadent.

You're crazy. It's supposed to be fun.

Well, the only good thing that came out of it is I found my hat.

Oh! Terri... Hey, where... where'd you find it?

The wife of some officer in there, that thief.

Anyway, she put it under her seat, and I stole it back.

You stole it? I stole it.

From the cops? Yes.

Let's get out of here. That's what I think.

Hey, listen. I got an interview.

I'll meet you in the square in half an hour, okay?

Our peoples have now eliminated hunger, want...

and the other ailments of a capitalist state.

I'm the chief of police in a city of eight million.

The statistics speak for themselves.

Uh, John Hammond, the Times.

Mr. Valinikov... Please wait.

The statistics...

Uh, will there be any opportunity to ask questions, Mr. Valinikov?

Joe Merrick, Chicago Herald.

Perhaps you will be kind enough not to interrupt.

This statement is made at your request.

No, sir. We requested a personal interview.

This is a personal interview.

Now may I proceed?

He didn't give me one single word of truth.

That's what I object to.

I can even forgive the eternal, never-ending...

goddamned runaround, but the lies... that's what...

Hello, darlings!

Hello.Easy.

What sweet dogs.Yes. Stay. Good boy.

Hello. Good dog.

Come along.

I knew it would interest you.

I heard absolutely every word, but, anyway, what does it matter?

Write what you want. Valinikov won't mind.

I mean, he probably doesn't even read the Chicago papers.

Oh, good thinking. That takes care of him.

But what about me?

Look. It's quite simple.

Your newspaper wants a story about the terrible, incompetent Soviet.

If that's what pleases your readers, write what you want.

Listen. I'm not a Russian journalist.

I know the difference between fact, invention and pure lie.

I suppose your country's better?

Yes, much better at Indian massacres...

and burning villages in Vietnam and lynching innocent Negroes.

And then you being very superior in your... in your sparkling kitchens and fancy cars.

That's the whole point. Our journalists write about those things...

all the crummy things about our own government,

or else how the hell would you know about it?

I'm here to report the truth. Your truth.

The uglier, the better.

You're digging up all the dirt you can about us,

trying to make yourself look superior.

Oh, my God. Twenty million Russians died...

in the Great Patriotic War so you could write your truth about us.

Well, go ahead. That's what you're paid for.

But I call that whoring.

Hey, wait a minute. If I'm a whore, who is living off my immoral earnings?

When you get a job, you can criticize mine.

The way... The way you hand out your hallowed Lucky Strikes...

and expect people to kneel in holy gratitude. Lucky Strikes?

Listen. I don't hand them out. You steal them.

Oh, your precious cigarettes! You... You guard your Lucky Strikes...

while you murder a million people in Hiroshima. Oh, my God. This is ridiculous.

You remember that the next time you tell your lies about my people.

Oktyabrina.

I hear you've been dating that new Danish girl.

Yeah, Helga.

Helga? I hear she's sensational.

Yeah, she's nice.

Nice?

You don't sound too interested.

Well, you take what you can get around here.

You know, maybe you ought to take a break, Joe.

Why don't you go home for a while?

I've been home.

There's nobody there.

Hey!

Hey! Hello! Helga!

Ho-ho!

- Mmm! Mmm! - Beautiful.

Who's your friend? Hello.

Ah, new denim. Must be your birthday costume.

Well, just one of them.

Listen. I'll look after you. Come on. Here.

Hey. Also, Joe, listen.

There's a friend of yours here.

She's here? Yeah.

She's not living here.

The army is taking care of that.

So I thought perhaps, uh...

Anyway, see you.

Aloha, Joe. Where have you been? It's been weeks.

Oktyabrina, where have you been?

I've been in heaven, sweetheart.

And I want you to meet the reason why in a minute.

He's over here. Uh, uh, wait a minute.

Uh, uh, this... this is Helga Van Dam.

Uh, Oktyabrina Madveyeva.

How do you do? Hello. Nice to meet you.

Very nice to meet you. Oh, she's perfect for you. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Sasha, meet Helga, and this is Joe.Hello.

Nice to meet you. Alexander Radenko.

How are you? Well.

How are ya? Um, do you like champagne?

Oh, I love champagne. I love champagne too. Here. Put this down,

because what we have to do is seduce Kostya to get this, because he's so stingy.

Uh, Sasha, would you please look after Joe?

So...

Where are you from in Poland?

Where am I what?

Oktyabrina said you were from Poland.

When you came, she said, "That is Kostya's Polish friend."

Oh, yeah. That's right. Uh, from Warsaw.

Warsaw.

I've been on maneuvers in Warsaw. It's a fine city.

I like it too.

My hometown and all.

Are you really from Poland?

Yeah. Yeah, of course I am. Why?

Well, you see, it's just Oktyabrina's such a liar.

She could say anything about a person just to make them more...

Uh, I don't know. More "glamuless."

You know, she's told me she had this American lover.

I don't even know if it's true.

An American lover that she used to live with.

But he became impossibly jealous, violent.

She had to leave him. It didn't work out.

Even though it broke her heart.

Hmm, hmm, hmm.

Well, it sounds like bullshit.

But every so often, she had Lucky Strikes and American magazines.

Yeah.

Yeah?

Well, I'm from Poland all right.

She's pretty. Don't you think?

Yeah, you're a lucky man.

She's really something.

You would love her.

You're a lucky man. I know.

But don't let her little tits fool you.

She is really something special.

I bet she is.

Fantastic.

Look. I really like the Poles.

I would like to do you a favor.

Here is 10 rubles. Why don't you take her to dinner?

You'll have marvelous time with her.

She's terrific.

She's, uh, giving you a hard time, right?

You...

You can't get her to open her knees, can you?

I've tried for weeks.

You've tried every way you know?

Yeah.

Nothing, huh? Impossible.

Oh, boy. You...

Oh, I practically had to... to rape dear Kostya to get these.

Oh, boy!

What is so funny?

Yeah! Here.

What's so funny?

Hey.

A street in Moscow lined with black market automobiles. Stop.

By leaning against one of the cars, you indicate your interest in the vehicle,

and moments later, the unofficial dealer comes up to begin negotiations.

Paragraph. The going price...

Hello?

Volodya? Give me Volodya Mitkin fast.

Uh, there's no one of that name here.

Oh, goddamn it. This isn't 272-1511?

272-1511? No, it isn't.

272-1511?

Hey! Joe, meet me in half an hour. It's important.

Uh, make it 20 minutes.

Twenty minutes. I'll be at used bookstore number 44 on Petrovka Street.

It's very important.

Aloha, Joe, darling!

Oh, aloha!

I'm starving. Take me to lunch.

Where's Kostya? Oh, he couldn't make it.

I'm going to be gone just a little bit.

He couldn't make it. He said to tell you that, uh, it wasn't at all important.

Come on. I'm so hungry.

I had to get a job after those cruel and terrible...

and hurtful things you said about me being a parasite,

when you knew I wasn't allowed to get a job because I didn't have papers.

So how did ya? Bribery.

I still had some of your Lucky Strikes.

And thank heavens for Alex.

You know, I'm really in love at last, Joe.

I mean, he's been gone for days now,

and-and I already feel like a widow.

I'm sure that means something frightfully bad.

Could I have one slice of ham, please?

Do you want some ham? Uh, yeah.

I... I see that... Two slices, please.

I see his absence hasn't affected your appetite.

Uh, no. Sadness makes me ravenous.

And, uh, two slices of cheese.

I can't stand the fact he's pounding up and down those hillsides...

in wherever it was he said he was going.Chelnokov.

When is he coming home? Uh, three days.

An eternity. Could we go to Gorky Park tomorrow?

Good morning. Good morning.

What you got in here? I brought you something.

Oh, Lucky Strikes.Yeah.

Ah.

And some soup. Thank you.

Take care of yourself.

Are they lovers?

My God, you're jealous.

Are they? Oh, come on. Leonid is a child.

She calls him her little hamster.

Feeding him all the crumbs, forcing him to survive.

He owes her a great debt.

Okay.

It's just that, uh,

it would make sense.

When did she ever do anything that made sense?

For instance, look at her now.

Her soldier friend has gone away, so what does she do?

She gets me to phone her American friend and make, um...

How do you say? Uh...

A phony appointment for her at the bookstore.

They spend the day together, and the next thing I know...

is that she is taking all her houseplants back to his apartment...

because she says they need a better home with her.

What's all this about, for God sakes?

I just dropped by for a bath.

With all your plants?

Well, you see, that ridiculous soldier...

you know, that one that you met the other night...

well, uh, he went off to defend some poor little nation.

And, uh, anyway, um, I decided that he was a dreadful bore.

This is wonderful.

Wonderful. Hey, Sergei!

It's nice to see you. How are ya?

So beautiful. Well...

Doesn't he look terrific? Oh, yeah.

Oh, you look so good.

Thank you for bringing her, Joe.

I'm sorry we couldn't make it sooner.

You know, she looks wonderful.

It's all those American luxuries.

I have to go to America in a day or two.

Not for too long. No, no. I'll be back in the fall.

Pretty cagey.

What'd you do?

Hey! Look at that salami!

You know, I haven't had salami since I left Moscow!

Crab, yes. A whole railcar came to us by mistake.

It was delicious!

But a whole railcar.

And there's cake for after.

Oh, my God. I forgot the flowers.

Don't tell her about, uh...

No. You'll be all right.

Hell, that's what country air is for.

You know, if she were mine to give,

I would bequeath her to you.

Here.

Flowers.

All the way from Moscow.

Now, please, tell me all about your life as a country gentleman.

Can I try a little champagne and caviar again?

Yeah.

Don't be late.

I won't.

French francs.

Deutsche marks.

And pound sterling.

Where is the American dollars?

Dollars.

You... You're engaged to play in the band of the cruise ship Tamara.

It is easier to get permission to travel for a married person...

when they are sure that the spouse will remain behind.

All right.

Your ship will put in at Yalta, Odessa...

and also Istanbul.

You have a shore permit for 12 hours...

in Turkey.

Bon voyage.

Darling, look. I'm married.

Oh, I feel quite different.

Mrs. Joseph Valnin.

Hmm. That sounds very good.

The sunshine of the romantic south.

Oh, I can't wait!

When do we leave?

But these papers are for tonight.

I did the best I could.

Kostya.

Couldn't... Couldn't we do this tomorrow?

I have some things to tend to... some things of importance.

Um...

Tonight is special.

Joe's leaving for the States tomorrow.

Look. For God's sake, what the hell do you think we're trying to organize here?

A joyride on the metro? Come on, girl! What do you want me to do?

To tell the K.G.B. to take a vacation for a few days while you say good-bye to Joe?

Come on. Wake up.

Does he know about this? Does Joe know about this? Answer me.

Of course not.

He knows you intended going away?

In a week, yes. Come on. Don't lie to me.

Of course. In a week.

Joe knows nothing. I told him nothing. Why did he give you the money?

He didn't give me the money! I stole it!

All right.

Now look.

The train leaves at 11:00 tonight.

You understand?

Now you're supposed to be... his wife.

He cannot get through the barrier without you. Do you understand?

Oktyabrina.

What I want... I mean, why I want to leave,

is that never again do I want to put...

someone else's life in jeopardy for being my friend.

I'll meet you in front of the station at 10:00.

Tonight? Well, sweetheart,

you know I've always wanted to go to the Black Sea.

And Kostya has got this beautiful villa with,

oh, some doctor friend of his or other.

And, uh... And he's got the papers, and, uh,

we're going in a big party, and we're leaving tonight on the night train.

Oh, yeah? Well...

Doesn't give you much time.

Better pack.

Uh, where are you going?

I'm going to the Press Club, and I'm gonna get drunk...

and maybe find a girl who can make up her mind about something.

That is, if I can afford to get drunk.

I don't suppose you know what happened to the money in this?

Uh, no, I don't... Uh...

Well, it's just I'm nearly $200 short.

Oh. I suppose you're accusing me of stealing now.

Yes. Yes, I am. All right. Well, uh, I took it.

Yes, I took it. I took your precious money.

Why, for Christ's sake? All you had to do was ask.

You trust me so much, you have to steal?

I tell you why. Because I didn't want to beg.

Oh, Christ.

Just get out of here.

Just get the hell out.

Black Sea, for Christ's sake.

You couldn't think of anything better than that?

Just what is that supposed to mean?

It was just beginning to come together for us.

We were just sta... Goddamn it!

And then you thought about it, and you ran for the first excuse you could find, right?

Well?

I don't give a damn.

Well,

good-bye, Joe.

All visitors to the shore.

All visitors ashore, please.

Oh, it's... it's my wife.

I have to go now.

But one last kiss for my husband before we are separated.

I know that this cruise is only for one week, but it seems like it will be forever.

Bless you. Bless you.

Oktyabrina...

Bye!

Do svidaniya!

Bye-bye!

Bye-bye! Do svidaniya! Okay?

Do svidaniya!

Bye-bye!

Sad?

I hate seeing good men become cowards.

He should have stayed and played his music...

played it and played it until they made him stop.

Oh, he's betraying us.

He is betraying himself.

Okay, what's the matter?

Nothing.

All this crying at 4:00 in the morning is for nothing?

Go back to bed!

Look.

Hey.

Listen.

Listen.

I'll tell you something.

Shh.

Joe is going to leave Russia one day...

forever.

He isn't going to marry for a long time.

And when he does, he is going to marry some American girl.

Who knows how to run an electric kitchen...

and how to mix dry martinis and...

where to get black stones for the house.

He is bewitched by you.

Maybe you're just a little bewitched by him, but, you know...

Hey.

Look.

You would be like a cosmonaut on the moon in his world... unable to breathe!

Surrounded by a vast environment that is totally hostile.

But that isn't true.

Okay, maybe not. I don't know. I...

But what is true is you and Joe are only playing games.

And now I think perhaps it is past the time for games.

Now I think perhaps you must...

grow up, Oktyabrina.

And if one night of crying will do that for you,

Oktyabrina,

then the tears are well shed.

Hmm.

Come on.

Thank you. You get some sleep.

Yeah.

All right.

Up.

There.

You sleep now.

Sleep.

Kostechka, thank you for the lecture.

You should have been a philosopher.

"I'm going to Yalta for some rest...

and visit a former countess whose grandmother once served the czar."

"Love and affection.

Oktyabrina Madveyeva."

It's my fault.

Have you checked, uh,

the usual places?

None of us have seen her all summer.

Well, I'm gonna look for her.

Anybody here? Hey, ballet master, is that you?

Where's he buried?

Can I help? Oh!

Hi.Joe, hello.

He died last week,

and, uh, I promised to come, uh,

every day for 40 days.

It's an old Russian custom.

I know. I was counting on it.

Oh.

Well, that's very fine.

Thank you very much.

I see you still got your hat, huh?

Yeah.

Why don't you put it on?

Let's see.

Let me look.

Come on. Let's see.

Looks very nice.

You know, I love you.

Come here.

What are you doing?

Putting a heart on.

Oh! Oh! Oh, you!

I love you, Joe.

Pass.

Pass.

May I see your pass?

Move, please.

Move.

Thank you. Move.

Go along, please.

Oktyabrina! You silly...

thing, you.

I told you you'd come back to Moscow,

but I didn't mean for you to have a heart attack to do it.

Ah, but this is wonderful. Oh, thank you for coming.

Yes. But how did you get in? Did you have a visitor's pass?

Um, Natasha's brother downstairs is the guard.

Oh! Don't worry.

Oh, darling. Are you all right?

Fine, fine. Yes? Yes?

I'm going to be much better. Much better.Darling.

But you. How are you?

Oh, darling. And Joe?

Yes. Yes?

Will you please come with me?

Where are you going? Come back here.

Quick, quick, quick! Get her.

Stop that girl! Stop her! Stop her now!

Oh! What's the matter?

Your papers.

Where are your papers?

I have no papers.

Why?

Because...

she's defined by the Marxist-Leninist gospel as a parasite.

Oktyabrina Madveyeva.

Each parasite steals from our country in its own way.

Yours was to leech on spineless men,

selling your body in return for favors,

exploiting decadent Russians as well as members of the foreign press,

who rummage through our society's garbage...

from which they concoct a reportage.

You are a speculator and a black marketeer...

who took every opportunity to make money,

in back alley deals,

against the law of our country.

Your very able counsel has registered plea...

for mercy,

addressed to us by your mother.

Your mother is a simple woman,

whose life has been dedicated to manual labor on a state farm.

The nobility of her plea...

touched the court greatly.

But the contrast between your lives...

hers in the honest toil of her farming...

and yours in the cesspool of parasitism.

This contrast weighted even more heavily than her pleas.

Oktyabrina Madveyeva,

you have been found guilty on all charges.

And it falls on me to sentence you.

The sentence I impose...

will, I hope, have some effect...

in deterring other weak-minded youths...

from the useless and obscene way of life you have lived.

Oktyabrina Madveyeva,

I sentence you for five years in a penal colony for female offenders.

This sentence is not open to appeal.

No.

What is it?

They've taken my white hat.

Yes, I know.

You won't be here when I get out, Joe.

We'll never see each other again.

I love you, Oktyabrina.

I have from the beginning.

Oh, God.

If only I hadn't been so stupid.

We could have loved long, long ago.

Oh, dear.

And then there would have been...

so much more to remember.

The minister died six weeks later.

Kostya wept at his funeral.

I don't think he wept only for the minister though.

Perhaps it was for times past.

Kostya and I don't see each other very often.

There's just too much pain in the silences between us.

I leave Moscow for good next month. I'm quitting the paper to write a book.

Book about Oktyabrina Madveyeva.

Maybe all I have to remember her by.

The girl from Petrovka.