Original subtitles

MOSFILM Studios

Creative Assosiation of Writers and Film Workers

Anton CHEKHOV THE SEAGULL

Written and Directed Yuliy KARASIK

Director of Photography Mikhail SUSLOV

Music by A. SCHNITKE

Directed by N. PTUSHKO

The Cast:

A. DEMIDOVA as Arkadina

V. CHETVERIKOV as Treplev

N. PLOTNIKOV as Sorin

A. SAVELYEVA as Zarechnaya

A. DZHIGARKHANYAN as Shamraev

S. PAVLOVA as Polina Adreevna

V. TELICHKINA as Masha

Yu. YAKOVLEV ad Trigorin

K. KOPELYAN as Dorn

S. TORKACHEVSKY as Medvedenko

S. SIMONOV as Jacob

G. KURAUSKAS as Knyazkov

Why do you always wear mourning?

Black matches my life.

- I am unhappy. - I don't understand it.

You are healthy,

and though your father is not rich,

he has a good competency.

Happiness does not depend on riches;

poor men are often happy.

In theory, yes,

but not in reality.

Take my case, for instance,

our big family.

We must all live somehow on my salary

of 23 roubles a month.

- You want to borrow some money? - No, thank you.

There is no ground

on which your soul and mine can meet.

And this is quite understandable.

You can have no inducement

to marry a poorman.

I am touched by your affection,

but I cannot return it,

that is all.

You shall be called

when the play begins, my friends,

but you must not stay here.

Let's go.

Of course the whole effect will be ruined

if Nina is late.

She should be here by now.

You need to have your hair and beard trimmed.

They are the tragedy of my existence.

Even when I was young

I always looked as if I were drunk.

Women have never liked me.

- Why is my sister out of temper? - Why?

Because she is jealous and bored.

She hates my play without ever having read it.

Yes, she is furious because Nina

is going to have a success on this little stage.

Keep calm.

Your mother adores you.

She loves me,

loves me not...

...loves me not!

You see, she doesn't love me,

and why should she? She likes life

and love and gay clothes,

and my being 25 years old is a sufficient reminder to her

that she is no longer young.

She adores modern theatre.

She thinks she's playing for the benefit of humanity,

but to me the theatre is all about convention,

when all those "geniuses" attempt

to extract a moral

from their insipid talk,

when they give us

under a thousand different guises

the same old stuff,

then I must needs run from it,

as Maupassant ran from the Eiffel Tower

that was about to crush him by its vulgarity.

But we can't do without a theatre.

No, but we must have it under a new form.

Yes, we need new forms.

If we can't do that, let us rather not have it at all.

I love my mother,

I love her devotedly,

but she always has this writer

of hers on her mind.

Plain, human egoism

sometimes speaks in my heart,

and I regret that my mother

is a famous actress.

If she were an ordinary woman

I think I would be a happier man.

I like literary men.

I once passionately desired

two things:

to marry,

and to become

an author.

It must be pleasant

to be even an insignificant author.

It's her.

- It can't be that I am late. - No, no, no!

I have been in a fever all day,

I was so afraid my father would prevent my coming.

What's so funny?

You have been crying?

- You mustn't do that. - It is nothing.

I must go in half an hour.

- Do let us hurry. - It is time

- to begin now. - Let me call them.

Let me call them.

My father and his wife never will let me come here;

they call this place Bohemia

and are afraid I shall become an actress.

My heart is full of you.

Don't go away early, I implore you.

I must.

I shall stand

in your garden all night

with my eyes on your window.

Don't - the watchman would see you.

- I love you. - Shh...

- Are you nervous? - Yes, very.

I am not so much afraid of your mother

as I am of Trigorin. He is so famous.

- He's coming, too? - Yes.

What beautiful stories he writes!

I've never read any of them.

Your play is very hard to act;

it seems more like a recitation.

I think

love should always come into every play.

She acted most beautifully

at the Poltava Fair in 1873;

she was really magnificent.

But tell me, too,

where Tchadin the comedian

is now?

He was inimitable as Rasplueff,

better than Sadofski.

Don't ask me where all those antediluvians are!

I know nothing about them.

Kostya!

When will the play begin?

In a moment. I must ask you to have patience.

Pavel Tchadin!

Pavel Tchadin!

There are none left like him.

The stage is not what it was in his time.

There were sturdy oaks growing on it then,

where now but stumps remain.

With your permission, I'll sit next to my wife.

- Evgeny! - Yes,

we have few dazzling geniuses these days,

but the average of acting is higher.

I cannot agree with you,

however,

that is a matter...

of taste.

Attention, ladies and gentlemen!

I shall commence.

O, ye time-honoured, ancient mists

that drive at night across the surface of this lake,

blind you our eyes with sleep,

and show us in our dreams

that which will be

in twice ten thousand years!

There won't be anything

in twice ten thousand years.

Then

let them now show us

that nothingness.

Yes, let them - we are asleep.

All men and beasts, lions,

eagles, and quails,

horned stags, geese, spiders,

silent fish that inhabit the waves,

starfish from the sea,

and creatures invisible to the eye

in one word, life - all, all life,

completing the dreary round imposed upon it,

has died out at last.

- What decadent rubbish is this? - Mother!

A thousand years have passed

since the earth last bore

a living creature on her breast,

and the unhappy moon now

lights her lamp in vain.

All is void,

void,

void.

The bodies of all living creatures have dropped to dust

and eternal matter has transformed them into stones

and water and clouds;

but their spirits

have flowed together into one,

and that great world-soul am I!

In me the consciousness of man has joined hands

with the instinct of the animal.

I understand all,

all, all,

and each life

- lives again in me. - I smell sulphur.

- Is that done on purpose? - Yes.

I am alone.

My voice

echoes mournfully across the desert earth,

and no one hears.

And you, poor lights of the marsh,

you do not hear me.

Like a captive

in a dungeon deep and void,

I know not where I am,

nor what awaits me.

I only know

I am destined to be victorious in the end.

Matter and spirit

will then be one at last in glorious harmony,

But this can only come to pass

by slow degrees,

when after countless eons

the moon

and earth

and shining Sirius himself

shall fall to dust.

Until that hour, oh, horror!

Put on your hat, or you'll catch cold.

The doctor has taken off his hat to Satan father of eternal matter.

Enough of this!

Down with the curtain!

Down with the curtain!

I forgot that only a chosen few might write plays or act them.

I have infringed the monopoly.

What is the matter with him?

Tut-tut, sister.

You should not handle youthful egoism

- so roughly. - What wrong have I said?

He told me himself this was all in fun,

so I treated it as if it were a comedy.

Now it appears we were watching a masterpiece, if you please!

- He had hoped to give you pleasure. - He did not choose an ordinary play,

but forced his decadent trash on us.

I am willing to listen to any raving, for fun,

but he pretended to be introducing us

to a new form of art.

It was simply an exhibition of bad temper.

Everybody must write as he feels.

Let him spare me his nonsense.

I see the play will never be finished,

so now I can go home.

- Bravo! Bravo! - Bravo!

Bravo!

We were quite charmed by your acting.

It is a crime to hide yourself in the country.

You're talented.

- You must become an actress. - It's the dream of my life,

- which will never come true. - Perhaps it will.

But let me present Monsieur Boris Trigorin.

I am delighted to meet you. I have read all your books.

Don't be afraid of him, dear.

He is a simple, good-natured soul.

It is depressing to have this curtain drawn.

Jacob, my man!

Draw the curtain open!

The famous Silva in the Opera House

once took the low C.

It was delightful!

And at this very moment

one of the church cantors,

who happened to be sitting

in the gallery,

suddenly boomed out:

"Bravo, Silva!"

a whole octave lower.

Like this:

Bravo, Silva!

The audience was left breathless.

An angel of silence is flying over our heads.

I must go.

- Good-bye. - Where to?

- Don't go away. - My father is waiting for me.

If you only knew how hard it is for me to leave you all.

- Somebody must see you home. - No, no!

- Stay just one hour more. - No, no, I can't.

Good bye!

Come, let us go in - the night is damp,

and my legs are aching.

Let's go,

oh my hapless old brother.

Oh, yes...

Madame!

Yes,

a whole octave lower:

"Bravo, Silva!"

And he wasn't a singer either,

just a simple church cantor.

What salary does the church pay its singers?

It's you, Doctor?

Masha has been yelling for me all over the park.

An insufferable creature.

Your play

delighted me.

It was strange, and I did not hear the end,

but it made a deep impression on me.

You have a talent, and must persevere in your work.

What I mean is...

A work of art

should invariably embody

some lofty idea.

Only that which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful.

- So you advise me to persevere? - Yes,

I have led a colorful life,

as you know,

and am a contented man,

but if I should ever experience the exaltation

that an artist feels,

I think I would spurn

all things mundane!

- Yes, I would! - Where is Nina?

- She has gone home. - I want to see her,

I must see her!

I shall follow her.

Your mother wants you to come in.

She is waiting for you.

For heaven's sake,

all of you, leave me alone!

Go away! Don't follow me about!

Come, come,

old chap,

don't act like this.

Good-bye, doctor, and thank you.

Ah, youth, youth!

It is always "Youth, youth",

when there is nothing else to be said.

How horrid.

I must go in.

Wait a moment.

I do not love my father,

but my heart turns to you.

I feel with all my soul that you are near to me.

Help me!

Help me, or I shall do something foolish

and mock at my life, and ruin it.

I am at the end of my strength.

How can I...

help you?

I love Constantine.

Oh, how excitable you all are!

And how much love

there is about this lake of spells!

But what can I do for you, my child?

What?

What?

Are you asleep, Irina?

So we are happy now, eh?

Kostik is off hunting.

He is weird.

Yesternight he wanted me

to come out,

but I was receiving my cousin.

I told him that much, and he got offended.

But I was having a guest, that's why.

Princes coming galore.

One must be lucky to be in love with a prince.

On Boulevard de la Croisette

I met three princes,

one following another.

Good tidings.

Nina's Father and stepmother have gone away to Tver,

and she is free for three whole days!

I am so happy.

She looks lovely to-day.

So sweet-looking. And beaming, too.

Yes, indeed.

That was nice of you.

But we mustn't praise her too much; we shall spoil her.

- Where is Trigorin? - He is fishing off the wharf.

- I wonder he isn't bored. - What are you reading?

"On the Water," by Maupassant.

Jacob!

Good day.

I am delighted to see you looking so well.

Jacob!

Hurry up.

You mean to go to town with my wife to-day,

- Is that so? - Yes.

That is splendid,

but how do you intend to get there, madam?

What horses would you take?

How do I know what horses we shall have?

Why, we have the carriage horses.

The carriage horses!

This is astonishing!

I'm sorry...

My dear madam, I have the greatest respect for your talents,

and would gladly sacrifice ten years of my life for you,

but I cannot let you have any horses to-day.

- By no account. - But if I must go to town,

- my dear sir? - How splendid!

You do not know, madam, what it is to run a farm.

We are hauling rye to-day.

I beg your pardon,

but you have crossed the limit.

Then I shall go back to Moscow this very day.

Order a carriage for me from the village,

or I shall go to the station on foot.

I shall never set foot here again.

Under these circumstances I resign my position.

You must find yourself another manager.

Take the yoke.

Take this stuff away!

Hurry up!

It is like this every summer:

every summer I am insulted here.

We are leaving now!

How could he refuse anything

to Madame Arkadina?

- Unbelievable! - What can I do about it?

What the deuce!

How tiresome people are!

I want all the horses brought here

at once!

- Hey there! - Let me help you.

Hey there!

Your husband deserves

to be thrown out of here,

but it will all end by this old granny Sorin

asking the man's pardon.

I cannot endure his rough ways.

If you only knew how they excite me!

He makes me feel ill.

Eugene, my darling, my beloved,

take me to you.

Our time is short - we are no longer young,

let us end deception

and concealment.

I am fifty-five years old.

Too late to change my ways of living.

I know there are other women

who are near to you

and you cannot take everybody.

Of course you are a doctor and cannot escape from women.

How are things in there?

Madame Arkadina is crying,

and Sorin is having an attack of asthma.

Let us go and give them both some valerian drops.

I was base enough to-day to kill this gull.

I lay it at your feet.

What is happening to you?

So shall I soon end my own life.

I fail to recognise you.

I have changed

since the time when I ceased to recognise you.

You have grown so irritable lately

and you talk so darkly and symbolically. This sea-gull...

I am too simple to understand you.

What is there to understand?

All this began

when my play failed so dismally.

A woman never can forgive failure.

Your estrangement is to me terrible, incredible;

it is as if I had suddenly waked

to find this lake dried up.

You disliked my play,

you already think of me

as commonplace and worthless.

How well I can understand your feelings.

And that understanding

is like a dagger in the brain,

together with my stupidity,

which sucks my life-blood

like a snake!

There comes real genius,

like another Hamlet, and with a book, too.

"Words, words, words."

You feel the warmth of that sun already,

you smile, your eyes glow liquid in its rays.

I shall not disturb you.

- How do you do? - How are you, Miss Nina?

- Am I interrupting? - Of course not.

It seems that we are leaving here today.

Such a shame. I like it here.

Boris! Boris!

She is calling me,

probably to come and pack,

but I don't want to leave this place.

- What is that? - A gull.

Constantine shot it.

What a lovely bird!

Really, I can't bear to go away.

Can't you persuade Irina to stay?

What are you writing?

An idea just occurred to me.

An idea for a short story.

A young girl grows up on the shores of a lake,

as you have.

She loves the lake and is as happy and free as a sea-gull.

But a man comes

and destroys her

out of idleness,

- as this gull here. - Boris!

I am coming this minute.

We are not going away, after all.

How strange to see

a famous actress weeping,

and for such a trifle!

Is it not strange, too,

that a famous author,

his works have been translated

into many foreign languages,

and yet he is overjoyed

if he catches a couple of minnows.

I saw an inkpot on this window-sill...

But it's not here.

- What? - Nothing.

What is it like to be famous?

What sensations does it give you?

What sensations?

I don't believe it gives any.

Either you exaggerate my fame, or else, if it exists, all I can say

is that one simply doesn't feel fame in any way.

But when you read about yourself in the papers?

If the critics praise me, I am happy.

If they condemn me, I feel out of sorts.

Yours is a wonderful world.

If you only knew how I envy you!

Men are born to different destinies.

Some dully drag a weary, useless life behind them,

to one out of a million, as to you,

comes a bright destiny

full of interest and meaning.

Your life is beautiful.

I see nothing especially lovely about it.

Excuse me, I must go at once,

and begin writing again.

You have stepped on my pet corn, as they say,

and I am getting excited, and a little cross.

On the other hand,

let us talk.

Let's discuss this bright and beautiful life of mine.

What shall we begin with?

Violent obsessions sometimes lay hold of a man:

he may, for instance, think day and night of the moon.

I have such a moon.

Day and night I am held in the grip

of one besetting thought,

to write, write, write!

Hardly have I finished one book

than something urges me to write another,

and so on.

I write ceaselessly. I am, as it were, on a treadmill.

Do you see anything bright and beautiful in that?

You've been spoilt by your success.

What success have I had?

I have never pleased myself as a writer,

I do not like myself at all.

I love this lake, these trees, the blue heaven,

and I am overcome

by an uncontrollable desire to write.

But I am not only a painter of landscapes,

I love my country, too, and her people.

It is my duty of the writer to speak of their sorrows,

of their future. So I write on every subject.

And the public hounds me on all sides,

and I race and dodge like a fox with a pack of hounds on his trail.

I see

life and knowledge fleeting away before me.

I am left behind them

like a peasant who has missed his train at a station,

and finally I realize

that all I am fit for is to describe landscapes,

and that whatever else I attempt

rings abominably false.

You work too hard

to realise the importance of your writings.

For the bliss of being a writer or an actress

I could endure want, and disillusionment,

and the hatred of my friends, and the pangs

of my own dissatisfaction with myself;

but I should demand in return fame,

real, resounding fame!

Whew! My head reels!

Will you excuse me,

I must go and attend to my business.

I must go, too.

Sorry for not being able to see you off.

Good bye, my dear sir.

I was delighted to meet you.

Shall I pack things into the grey box?

- I'll manage myself. - I'll help you.

Semen Semenych...

I'll go and get ready, too.

I tell you honestly,

I should not have lived another day

if he had wounded himself fatally.

I'm serious.

Yet I am courageous:

I have decided

to tear this love of mine out of my heart by the roots.

How will you do it?

By marrying Medvedenko.

- The school-teacher? - Yes.

I don't see the necessity for that.

Don't look at me like this.

Women drink oftener than you imagine,

but most of them do it in secret,

and not openly, as I do.

Yeah...

They even drink vodka or cognac, you know.

To your good health!

You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you go.

- And I am sorry to leave. - You should ask her to stay.

She would not do that now.

Her son has been behaving outrageously.

First he attempted suicide,

and now he is going to challenge me to a duel,

but why on earth?

He is sneering and preaching about a new form of art,

as if the field of art were not large enough

to accommodate both old and new

without the necessity of jostling.

That schoolteacher of mine is none too clever,

but he is very good, poor man,

and he loves me dearly,

and I am sorry for him,

and for his good old mother, too.

However,

let me say good-bye.

Thanks for your goodwill.

Send me your books,

and be sure to write smth in them, like:

To Masha,

who, forgetful of her origin,

for some unknown reason

is living in this world.

Good-bye.

Is it odd or even?

Even.

No, it is odd.

I had only one pea in my hand.

I wondered whether I was to become an actress or not.

If only someone would advise me what to do!

One cannot give advice in a case like this.

Perhaps we'll never meet again.

Accept this little medallion, with your initials

and the name of one of your books engraved.

How sweet of you!

That's all.

- Think of me sometimes. - I shall never forget you.

I shall always remember you

as I saw you that bright day,

a week ago,

when you wore your light dress,

and the white seagull lay on the bench beside us.

That's all, someone is coming.

Let me see you alone for two minutes before you go.

Stay here at home, you poor old man.

How could you pay visits with that rheumatism of yours?

Who left the room just now, was it Nina?

- Yes. - I am afraid we interrupted you.

Page 121, lines 11 and 12.

Shall I pack your fishing-rods, too, sir?

Yes, I shall need them

but you can give the books away.

Have we my books here in the house?

Yes, they are in my brother's library.

Really, Peter, don't go anywhere.

What would you do in town?

Oh, nothing in particular,

but somehow...

They'll lay the corner-stone of the new court-house.

I should like to leap out of this minnow-pond,

if but for an hour or two!

To feel like a normal human being.

Well...

Don't be lonely, and don't catch cold.

Keep an eye on my boy.

I don't even know why Constantine shot himself,

but I think it was out of jealousy,

and the sooner I take Trigorin away, the better.

There were

other reasons besides jealousy for his act.

Here is a clever young chap

living in the depths of the country,

without money or position,

with no future ahead of him.

He is a misery to me!

He might possibly enter the army.

You should let him have a little money.

He ought to be allowed to dress like a human being.

See how he looks!

Wearing the same little old coat for three years.

And it wouldn't hurt him to sow a few wild oats;

let him go abroad, say, for a time.

I think I might manage about his clothes

but I couldn't let him go abroad.

And no,

I can't let him have his clothes even, now.

I have no money at present.

Of course, of course.

Don't be angry.

I have no money!

I should let him have some myself,

but I haven't even a penny.

The farm manager takes my pension from me

and puts it all into the farm, and in that way it is lost for ever.

The bees die, the cows die, they never let me have a horse.

Of course I have some money, but my expenses for dress alone

are enough to bankrupt me.

Peter!

Peter!

Dearest!

I am very fond of you...

What?!

Smth is the matter with me again.

Help!

Help!

- He is fainting! - Bring some water!

He's fainting!

These attacks are not dangerous,

my uncle often has them now.

You must go and lie down, Uncle.

Yes, I think I shall,

for a few minutes.

I am going to Moscow

all the same,

but I shall lie down a bit

before I start.

Page 121,

lines 11 and 12.

11 and 12...

"If at any time you should have need of my life,

come and take it."

If at any time you should have need of my life,

come and take it."

He gave me a dreadful fright.

It is not good for him to live in the country.

It fills him with ennui...

If you would only lend him

a thousand roubles!

He could then spend a whole year in town.

I have no money. I am an actress and not a banker.

Please change my bandage for me, mother,

you do it so gently.

Sit down.

You look as if you had a turban on.

A villager yesterday asked

to what nationality you belonged.

Your wound is almost healed.

You won't try it again, will you, when I am gone?

No, mother.

I did that in a moment of insane despair.

It will never happen again.

Your touch is golden.

I love you again, these last few days, as I did as a child.

I have no one left me now but you.

Why do you let yourself be controlled by that man?

You don't understand him, Constantine.

- He has a noble personality. - A noble personality indeed!

Here we are almost quarrelling over him,

and he is probably in the garden

laughing at us at this very moment,

or else enlightening Nina's mind,

trying to persuade her into thinking him a man of genius.

You enjoy saying unpleasant things to me.

- I respect him! - But I don't!

Don't speak ill of him in my presence.

You want me to think him a genius,

but I refuse to lie: his books make me sick.

You envy him.

People with no talent always criticise

those who are really gifted.

Those who are really gifted,

indeed!

I am cleverer than any of you!

You are the slaves of convention,

you have seized the upper hand

and now lay down as law everything that you do,

all else you strangle and trample on!

I hate such people!

- It is the talk of a decadent. - Go on

playing your miserable ditch-water plays!

I never acted in a play like that in my life!

You couldn't write even the trashiest farce,

you idle good-for-nothing!

- Miser! - Rag-bag!

You, Kievan bourgeois!

You non-entity!

Don't cry!

You mustn't cry!

You really mustn't.

My darling child,

don't cry.

Forgive me.

Forgive your wicked mother.

I'm so sorry!

I'm sorry...

Oh, if you could only know

what it is to have lost

everything under heaven!

She does not love me.

I see I shall never be able to write.

- I can't. - Don't despair.

This will all pass.

He is going away to-day,

and she will love you once more.

Stop crying.

All right?

We have made peace again.

- Yes? - Yes, mother.

Make your peace with him, too.

You surely won't fight?

I won't,

but you must not insist on my seeing him again,

I couldn't stand it.

It's more than I can stand.

I'm going.

- Have you packed your things? - Yes.

The carriage will soon be here.

Do let us stay!

Please.

I know, dearest, what keeps you here.

Be sober: your emotions have intoxicated you a little.

You're such a good woman.

You are capable of self-sacrifice.

- Be a friend to me, release me! - Are you so much in love?

I am irresistibly impelled toward her.

It may be that this is just what I need.

What, the love of a country girl? How little you know yourself!

I had no time for it when I was young and struggling

with want and laying siege to the literary fortress,

but now at last this love has come to me.

I see it beckoning - why should I fly?

You are mad!

You have all conspired together to torture me to-day.

She doesn't understand me!

She won't understand me!

Look at me!

Am I then so old and ugly already

that you can talk to me like this about another woman?

Oh, you have lost your senses!

I could never endure it

should you desert me.

- Some one might come in. - So what!

So what!

You are mine, you are mine!

This forehead is mine, these eyes are mine,

this silky hair is mine.

You are so clever, so wise,

the first of all living writers.

Only I can appreciate you.

Do you think

I am not speaking the truth?

I alone tell you the truth.

Oh, my very dear,

you will go with me?

You will not forsake me?

I have no will of my own; I never had.

I am too indolent, too submissive, to have any.

Is it possible that women like that?

Take me away with you,

but do not let me stir a step from your side.

But you must stay here, if you wish.

I shall go,

and you can follow in a week's time.

Yes, really, why should you hurry away?

Let us go together.

As you like.

Let us go together then.

What are you writing?

A happy expression I heard this morning:

"A grove of maiden pines."

So we are really off again,

condemned once more to railway carriages,

to stations and restaurants, and endless arguments!

- Come in! - I am sorry to have to inform you

that your carriage is at the door.

It is time to start, honoured madam,

the train leaves at two-five.

- I've packed everything. - Thank you.

Would you inquire for me

where Suzdaltzeff the actor is now?

We both have had

many a jolly time together.

Madam,

you still have five minutes.

He was inimitable in "The Stolen Mail".

Used to be a remarkable personality.

I'll be waiting outside.

Here are some plums for the journey.

Very delicious.

You are very kind, Polina.

Good-bye.

If we did you wrong, please forgive us.

It has been delightful, delightful.

You mustn't cry.

Our time is going away...

It can't be helped...

Your mother is leaving and wants to say good bye to you.

No, thank you, Jacob.

We already said goodbye to each other.

I would gladly see you off to the station.

Come with me, then.

This is your carriage, Madame.

Peter, are you coming?

I'll ride in the other carriage.

Boris...

Hurry up,

ladies and gentlemen.

- Your plums... - Thank you.

Send us a line to cheer us up.

Good bye, sir...

Don't be too long at the railway station.

- Godspeed to you. - Good bye.

I gave the cook a rouble

for all three of you.

I think I left my cane

on the terrace.

We are off.

I knew we should meet again.

Die is cast: I am going on the stage.

I am going, as you are, to Moscow.

Go to the Hotel Slavianski Bazar.

Let me know as soon as you get there.

They're being so long...

It's raining,

7 versts to get to the station.

I think that old theatre ought to be knocked down.

It is still standing there, naked and hideous as a skeleton.

I heard a voice weeping in it

as I passed there last night.

What an idea!

Come home with me, Masha.

I shall spend the night here.

Do come, Masha. The baby must be hungry.

Nonsense, Matryona will feed it.

It is a pity to leave him three nights without his mother.

You are getting too tiresome.

You used sometimes to talk of other things

besides home and the baby, home and the baby.

You can go home if you want to.

Your father won't give me a horse.

Yes, he will, ask him.

I think I shall.

Are you coming home tomorrow?

Yes, yes,

tomorrow.

Who is that for, mother?

Mr. Sorin asked to sleep in Constantine's room to-night.

Let me make the bed.

Old men are twice children.

Well, I am going.

Be off, in God's name!

Good bye.

- Good bye. - Good night.

You turned

into a real author, Constantine.

The magazines pay you well for your stories.

You have grown handsome, too.

Dear, kind Constantine,

be a little nicer to my Masha.

Leave him alone, mother.

She is a sweet child.

A woman asks only for kind looks. I know that from experience.

You have vexed him.

I told you not to bother him.

- I am sorry for you, Masha. - Much I need your pity!

My heart aches for you. I see how things are.

You see what doesn't exist. Hopeless love only exists in books.

My husband has been promised a school in another district,

so soon I shall forget it all.

I shall tear my passion out by the roots.

I have six mouths to feed now,

and flour is at 7 kopecks.

What a riddle to solve.

It is easy for you to say so. You are a rich person.

You think I am rich?

My friend, after practising for 30 years,

during which I could not call my soul my own

for one minute of the night or day,

I succeeded in scraping together 2000 roubles,

all of which went, not long ago,

in a trip which I took abroad.

- So you didn't go home? - They won't give me a horse.

- I hate the looks of you. - Where is my sister?

She has gone to the station

to meet Trigorin.

I must be dangerously ill

if you had to send for my sister.

Here I am dangerously ill,

and you won't even give me any medicine.

What shall I prescribe for you?

Valerian drops? Soda? Quinine?

Don't inflict any of your discussions

on me again.

Is that bed for me?

- Yes, for you, sir. - Thank you.

The moon swims

in the sky to-night.

I am going to give Constantine

an idea for a story.

It shall be called

"The Man Who Wished".

When I was young,

I wished to become an author -

I failed.

I wished to be an orator -

I speak abominably.

I wished to marry,

and I didn't.

I wished

to live in the city,

and here I am ending my days

in the country,

and all.

You wished to become State Councillor -

and you are one!

I didn't try for that, it came of its own accord.

Come, you must admit that it is petty

to cavil at life at 67 years of age.

Can't you see I want to live?

Every life shall come to an end.

You speak like a man who is satiated with life.

But even you dread death.

Oh, flowers, convey my love message...

- Are we disturbing? - No matter.

Tell me, Doctor,

which of foreign cities did you like the best?

- Genoa. - Why Genoa?

Because there is such a splendid crowd in its streets.

You move with it

without aim or object,

and you begin to believe at last

in a great world spirit,

like the one in your play

that Nina acted.

By the way,

where is Nina now?

Is she well?

I believe so.

I hear she has led rather a strange life -

what happened?

It is a long story, Doctor.

Tell it shortly.

She ran away from home and joined Trigorin.

But you know that.

I know...

She had a child

that died.

Trigorin soon tired of her

and returned to his former ties.

He had never broken them, indeed,

but out of weakness of character

had always vacillated between the two.

As far as I know,

Nina's domestic life

has not been altogether a success.

What about her acting?

She made an even worse failure of that.

She was a beautiful girl.

What?

She was a beautiful girl.

Even the State Councillor himself

was in love with her

for a time.

You old Lovelace, you!

- He's being late. - Let us not lose time.

Dinner will be served soon.

Pray, sit down.

- They have arrived. - Yes, I can hear mother's voice.

Boris is here.

It's so warm here...

We all grow old and wither,

and only you keep the secret

- of eternal youth. - Don't you jinx me,

you tiresome old man.

How do you do, Peter? Still ill? Too bad.

Your mother says you have forgotten the past.

Boris has brought a magazine with your latest story in it.

Many thanks.

Everyone in Moscow and St. Petersburg

ply me with questions about you.

They all think that you are no longer young.

You are as great a mystery

as the Man in the Iron Mask.

Do you expect to be here long?

No, I must go back to Moscow tomorrow.

I am finishing another novel.

In fact, it is the same old business.

How do you do, Masha.

Oh, you recognized me?

So, you're married?

Yes, quite for a while already.

Are you happy?

We're going to play lotto.

Don't you want to take a hand with us

- until supper time? - Sit down, my friends.

Sit down.

- I shall go on foot, Masha. - On foot in this weather?

It is only six miles. Good-bye, mother.

Good night, gentlemen.

I don't want to be a nuisance, but I must go to our child.

Good night.

He has read his own story,

and hasn't even cut the pages of mine.

"The placard cried it from the wall...

a pale face in a frame of dusky hair..."

Cried...

...a frame...

That is stupid.

I can feel I'm gradually slipping into the beaten track.

Descriptions are so easy for Trigorin:

the neck of a broken bottle

lying on the bank glitter in the moonlight,

the shadows lie black under the mill-wheel...

There you have a moonlight night before your eyes.

But I speak of the shimmering light,

the twinkling stars,

the distant sounds of a piano...

And the result is abominable.

You know, Doctor:

I'm beginning to realize that good literature

is not a question of forms new or old,

but of ideas

that pour freely from the author's heart,

when he writes

without his bothering his head

about any forms whatsoever.

Doctor!

Constantine!

- Let's go. - I'm not in the mood.

I'll stay here and have some reading.

When the long autumn evenings descend on us

we while away the time here by playing lotto.

We used this old set

when our mother

played with us as children.

It is a monotonous game,

but it is all right when one gets used to it.

The stake - 10 kopecks.

Will you do it for me, please...

Yes.

I shall begin.

- 31... - Yes...

32...

86...

81...

Don't go so fast.

74...

- 33... - I am still dazed by the reception

- 51... - they gave me in Kharkof.

34...

The students gave me an ovation,

27...

they sent me 3 baskets of flowers.

30...

Here you go...

58...

I wore a magnificent dress.

22...

- Where is Constantine? - 38...

Constantine!

77...

He has been severely criticised in the papers.

59...

Why should anyone bother!

- 36... - He is not lucky, you know,

he can't somehow strike

- the right note. - 44...

He has never created a single living character.

65...

- 44? - Yes.

87...

Are you bored, Peter?

13...

- He is asleep. - The Councillor

- is taking a nap. - 67...

I have great faith in Constantine.

- 21... - I know there is something in him.

- 3... - He thinks in images,

his stories are vivid and full of colour.

79...

It is only a pity

- that he has no definite object in view. - 24...

- 12... - Are you glad, madam,

that you have an author for a son?

89...

I have never read anything of his.

I never have time.

- 62... - I'm so bad.

72...

7...

10...

1...

Who is there?

Nina, Nina! It is you, you!

I felt you would come!

Oh, my darling, my dearest one!

- Do come in. - There is some one here.

No one is here.

- Lock the door. - No one will come in.

I know your mother is here. Lock the door.

There is no lock on that one. But no one shall come in.

Let me look at you.

It is warm and comfortable in here.

- Have I changed much? - Yes, you have grown thinner,

and your eyes are larger than they were.

Nina, it seems so strange to see you!

Why didn't you let me go to you?

You have been here nearly a week - I know.

I have been several times to where you live.

I was afraid you might hate me.

I dream every night

that you look at me without recognising me.

Oh, if you could only know...

I have been wandering about on the shores of the lake.

I have often been near your house.

Let us sit down.

Let us sit down and talk our hearts out.

It is so quiet

and warm in here.

Do you hear the wind whistling outside?

As Turgenieff says,

Happy is he

who can sit at night

under the roof of his home...

I am a seagull...

And yet... No...

What was I saying?

Oh, yes, Turgenieff. He says,

"and God help

all houseless wanderers".

You are crying again, Nina!

It is all right. I shall feel better after this.

So you are an author now, and I am an actress.

We have both been sucked into the whirlpool.

My life used to be as happy as a child's,

I loved you and dreamt of fame,

and what is the reality?

Tomorrow morning I must start for Eletz

by train in a 3rd-class carriage,

and at Eletz the merchants will pursue me with compliments

It is a rough life.

Why are you going to Eletz?

I have accepted an engagement there for the winter.

- I have to go. - I hated you,

I have torn up your letters,

and yet I have known that my heart and soul

were yours for ever.

From the time I lost you and began to write,

my youth was suddenly plucked from me then,

and I seem now to have lived in this world for 90 years.

I have kissed the ground you walked on,

wherever I looked I have seen your face before my eyes,

and the smile

that had illumined the best years of my life.

Why, why does he talk to me like this?

I am quite alone, unwarmed by any attachment.

I am as cold as if I were living in a cave.

Whatever I write is dry and gloomy and harsh.

Stay here, Nina, I beseech you,

or else let me go away with you.

Nina, why do you do that?

Let me have some water.

Why do you say

that you have kissed the ground I walked on?

You should kill me rather.

I am so tired.

If I could only rest...

Rest...

I am a seagull...

No... No...

I am an actress.

He is there too.

He used to laugh at my dreams about the theatre,

so that little by little I gave up my dreams,

I became down-hearted.

Then came all the cares of love,

the continual anxiety about my little one,

so that I soon grew trivial and spiritless.

You cannot imagine the state of mind

of one who knows how terribly badly he is acting.

Then my little daughter died...

That is an idea for a short story...

What was I saying?

Oh, yes,

the stage.

I have changed now.

Now I am a real actress.

I act with joy, with exaltation, and feel that I am superb.

I feel the strength of my spirit growing in me every day.

I understand at last, that for us,

whether we write or act,

it is not the honour and glory that is important,

it is the strength to endure.

One must know how to bear one's cross,

and one must have faith.

I believe,

and so do not suffer so much,

and when I think of my calling

I do not fear life.

You have found your way,

you know where you are going,

but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams,

not knowing the sense of all this.

I do not believe in anything,

and I do not know what my calling is.

I must go.

Good-bye, Constantine.

When I have become a famous actress you must come and see me.

Will you promise to come?

I can hardly stand.

I am fainting. I am hungry.

Stay, and let me bring you some supper.

No, no, I can find the way alone.

So she brought him back with her?

However, what difference can that make to me.

Don't tell Trigorin anything when you see him.

I love him.

I love him even more than I used to.

It is an idea for a short story.

I love him to despair.

How pleasant the old times were!

Do you remember?

What a gay, bright, gentle, pure life we led?

How a feeling

as sweet and tender as a flower blossomed in our hearts?

Do you remember,

"All men and beasts, lions,

eagles, and quails,

horned stags, geese, spiders,

silent fish that inhabit the waves,

starfish from the sea..."

Farewell, Constantine...

35...

80...

3...

7...

88...

Mine is filled in!

- But... - Bravo!

This man is always lucky.

And now let us have some supper,

our Mister Celebrity is hungry.

And then we can go on with our game.

What was that?

Probably one of my medicine bottles has blown up.

Don't worry. I'll go and check out.

It is as I thought,

a flask of ether has exploded.

Spellbound once more

I stand before thee.

Heavens! I was really frightened.

That noise reminded me of...

Everything is black before my eyes.

Let's have some supper.

Put the claret and the beer here, on the table.

Mr. Trigorin!

There was an article from America in this magazine

about two months ago

that I wanted to ask you about,

I am very much interested in this question.

You must take Madame Arkadina away from here...

What I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself.

THE END