All language subtitles for Dostoevskiy_07

Evgeniy Mironov

Are you sure it was Dostoevskiy?

We have a business to you.

Before the prison you bragged to Grigorovitch
that being drunk you and a little girl...

How dare you!

Fyodor, I was waiting for you.
Are we going out to have dinner?

No, not today.

I khow what it is.
It's the hell, it's the devil.

I am worse than an animal.

I lost everything.

After one day Nathan Rothschild
became the richest man in Britain.

I am pregnant.

- Give me this.
- What?

That can't be.

in Vladimir Hotinenko fiilm

DOSTOEVSKIY

Part 8

Petersburg. Spring, 1872.

This bill has been already paid,
Sergey Ignatievitch. You forgot?

It was not.

This bill for the publication
was on credit, Anna...

Anna Grigorievna.

What position are you in here?

I run Fyodor Mihailovitch's business.

So I'm telling you that this bill
has already been paid.

And in order you
stop arguing with me,

and in order
you feel a little ashamed,

here is your receipt.

It seems to me you
wanted to get 200 rubles more.

How could I forget?

- It's so embarrassing.
- Yes, it is.

And don't come here anymore,
or I will have to sue you,

dear Sergey Ignatievitch.

You may leave now.

Marta, quickly.
We ran out of water.

- How is it?
- Very hard delivery.

Take this, please.

Not now. Later.

Breathe deeply.

I'm coming!

It's very cold here.

Why don't you heat?

No, no, you can't come in here.

Lord, save our souls!

Finally you fiinished writing 'Idiot.

I gave birth to Lyuba.

Maybe it's time
to come back to Russia?

We need to wait a little, my dear.

We'll send the last part to the publisher,
Katkov will send the rest of my fee,

and then we will go home, to Russia.

Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

Mrs. Dostoevskaya, Mr. Dostoevskiy.

I am glad to see you.

This is a great honor for us,
Mr. Dostoevskiy.

We'll hang a plague, saying that Dostoevskiy
sent his novel from here to Russia.

Keep your fiingers crossed.

What's the name of your new novel?

Idiot.

I'm sorry?

The name of the novel is 'Idiot.

'Idiot means crazy?

That's right.

Is it fiiguratively or literally?

Yes, it's literally.

I'm sorry, but why do you write
a novel about an idiot?

Because these idiots
are smarter than we are.

We just don't notice that.

I understand. It's allegory.

He's not a complete idiot.
He is a little idiot.

Your 'Idiot is heavy.

Five thalers, please.

But I always paid only two and a half.

Yes, but today it weighs fiive thalers.

- It's heavy.
- I understand that.

- There is not enough.
- Wait.

If you wish, we can send
only a part of the copy.

No, thank you.

I will bring the money later.

As you wish, Mr. Dostoevskiy.

What are we going to do?
Where to take it?

The room is not paid.

The doctors, the suppliers
always ask for money.

We need to pay them.

And at the same time
I need to write.

And they also require artistry
and purity of poetry.

Wiithout tense.

And they always tell me to take
examples from Goncharov or Turgenev.

But I can't fiind fiive thalers
to send this copy.

Fedya, don't be mad, but I have
a woolen skirt, which I don't need now.

- We can pledge it.
- What are you saying?

You need to feed your baby.
What are you saying?

And don't catch cold.

Maybe... no.
I'm afraid they won't take it.

We have to pledge my pants.

Fedya!

What?

Money! Damn money!

Wiiesbaden. Autumn, 1871.

Frau Anna, I brought you mail.

Have some rest.
I will sit with the baby.

My God!

Oh, my God!

This new novel by Dostoevskiy
is the worse he has ever published.

I can see in this novel
a literary compilation of many characters,

and absurd events,
with no artistic sense.

I beg you, stay with Lyuba for a while.

I need to leave.

Don't worry, frau Anna,
your girl is very quiet.

I am here at last.

Ladies and gentlemen, place your bet.

26.

No. 23.

Bet are made. No more bet.

26. Black

Why 26?

Why 26?

That's it. I won't do that anymore.

I won't play.

I'm sorry, but the casino closed.

Come back tomorrow.

My God.

Fedya!

My love.

I'm sorry, my love.

My faith, my hope.

Everything will be good.

Get up. It's cold. You can't sit here.
Your have weak lungs.

I lost everything.

It's okay.

Katkov sent the money.

Get up.

Let's go home.

We will go to the station.

Let's go.

The morning train is soon.

And we will go home.

Wiill you forgive me?

Wiill you?

My little girl.

You khow, I realized today
that I will not play anymore.

Ever. For you, for...

For our future life.

But I feel... I khow
that there will be a boy.

Really?

If God helps, he will be born in Russia.

We went abroad for a few months,
but we have lived more than four years.

You see, the Russian sky.

Petersburg. 1871.

My father as usual
has his long morning procedures?

I found a nice 8-room flat.

And it's very cheap. 800 rubles a month.

Why do we need such a large flat?

It's not large at all.

You will have a living-room, a study,
a bedroom, a nursery.

We will have a living-room, a study,
a bedroom.

And we will share the dining-room.

I am a family man now.

Do you want to live together with us?

Of course, we do.

I said to my wife, when my father
comes back we will live together.

You have a nice wife, Pavel.

But the circumstances changed.

What do you mean?

They changed completely.

I would not agree to share a flat.

I told you many times, Anna Grigorievna
that you undertake too much.

And I will discuss this matter
with my father.

Good morning, Pasha.

- Father.
- Yes.

Now everything runs
Anna Grigorievna.

Everything will be as she decides to be.

- Good morning, Anna Grigorievna.
- Hello.

May I?

You don't venture
to accept me at home.

You don't want
to disturb Fyodor Mikhailovitch.

Have a look I took all the credit
documents from Dostoevskiy.

Total sum is 12 thousand rubles.

Due date expired three months ago.

I dare to ask you,
when are you going to pay?

Or I have to go to the court.

I will pay, Mr. Lichtenstein.
I will defiinitely pay.

I pledge my house.

So, when everything is ready,
you will be the fiirst whom we will pay to.

When? I cannot wait.

We will inventory.

Wait one month.

Or we will pay you 100 rubles now,
and then 50 rubles each next month.

Why are you so obstinate?

What is your interest?

You khow, Mr. Dostoevskiy
is a talented Russian writer,

and I am just a little German merchant.

But I want to show you that I can put
the famous Russian writer in debtor's prison

for, let's say, 18 months.

Be sure, I can do that.

Put your money on the table,
or your property will be sold,

and Mr. Dostoevskiy
will be put in prison.

Then let's do it this way.

Our flat is rented on my name,
and not on Fyodor Mikhailovitch.

The furniture was borrowed.

And as for your threat
about the prison,

I warn you, if this happen,
I will ask my husband to stay there

till the end of the term of his debt.

I will fiind a flat somewhere close to him,
I will visit him, will help him with work

And as you understand, in this case
you will not get a penny.

All right.

Give me 100 rubles.

May. 1872.

Yesterday I received
a letter from Tretiakov.

He asked me to sit for an artist Perov.

Perov?

Fedya, you must agree.
Perov is a great artist.

Do you khow how long
I must sit motionlessly?

No, no, I don't have much time.

You must agree, Fyodor.

Tretiakov values you much,
if he asks to sit for a picture.

Thank God someone values me.

It's not good to say 'no'.
You must agree, Fedya.

No. I will not.

Stop it.

God, bless me!

Here And don't drink!
Buy some food.

Give us some money too.

What's your name, little girl?

Her name is Nastya.

Fyodor!

Wait a bit!

All right. That's enough for today.

30 minutes more,
Fyodor Mikhailovitch.

We agreed, didn't we?

Take pity on me.

Well, Fyodor Mikhailovitch
has to have lunch.

And a walk after it.

I need to work
Or I will be put in prison by creditors.

All right, Fyodor Mikhailovitch.

I will come back tomorrow
the same time.

Vasiliy Grigorievitch,
have lunch with us.

Yes, you'd better agree.

- Who is it?
- Pobedonostsev's friend.

The famous Dostoevskiy.
He's a very mean man.

Europe is his enemy,
and every liberal is a Russia's traitor.

If only Mr. Dostoevskiy heard you.
He would have a fiit.

Does he really have fiits?

People told me,
but I didn't believe them.

I read his 'Idiot. I couldn't tear
myself from the book during two days.

So his Myshkin has fiits also.

You think he is the prince Myshkin?
Most probably he is Rogozhin.

Those kinds of people
are capable of killing.

Look at his eyes.

No, gentlemen, he is mostly
Svidrigailov from 'Crime and Punishment'.

He is truly represented
with all his hidden passion.

No, gentlemen. Whatever you say,
but I think this portrait is impressive.

Perov is a distinguished artist.

He managed to ravish
all Dostoevskiy's vices.

Before shaking his hand
you will think about it.

As for me, I like him.

He lives as he wants to.

People say he lost
much playing the roulette.

I ask you to pay attention
on one spicy detail.

During social meetings Mr. Dostoevskiy
looks under jackets of almost everybody.

He's looking for a tail.

He sees the demon everywhere.

Look at his face.

At his eyes.

This man suffered a lot.

- Did you fiind it?
- It vanished into thin air.

We can't fiind it.

- Did you search behind the dam?
- Yes, we did.

Okay, I will go myself.

How could you leave it unattended?

Fyodor Mikhailovitch,
I came to see you.

Just came from the train.

- Hello.
- Hello. What is your name?

Saveliy Modestovitch Khlebunov.

A reporter of 'Moscow Bulletin'.

I would like to interview you.

I'm sorry, I am very busy
right now, I don't have time.

I look at your face and see
those sufferings you bore.

What sufferings?

Did you see a cow here?

No, I didn't.

- You seem to be superstitious.
- Why do you think so?

There is a saying, if you meat a cow,
tomorrow will be a good day.

What a thing you are saying!

You make up so many strange things.

- Why do you need the cow then?
- I'm just looking for it.

It didn't come back from the fiield.

All our people are looking for her,
so am I.

Where is she?

How can that happen?
The great artist, with his mind,

who has the highest ideas in the world
is looking a cow?.

What is so strange? We leased a cow
for the summer for 15 rubles.

Children need milk

What kind of fiish with a tail is that?
Where did you hear this song?

Everyone is singing it.

My idea is to become Rothschild.

Maybe I'm not worthless.

Looking at a mirror, I khow
my look does harm for me.

Because I have an ordinary face.

But if I was rich as Rothschild was,
who will deal with my face?

And thousands of women
will fall on me.

I am even sure that they will
call me handsome sincerely.

Money is a despotic thing.

Anya, I was at Schtekenschneiders.
There was a woman there.

She was not that beautiful,
but she had a beautiful dress.

A very simple fashion.

Something is raised
and gathered from the right.

And it is lowered from below.
But it's not dragging.

I forgot what was from the left.
I think it was raised as well.

Get such dress made for you.

It will look very good on you.

They told me about faille.
It's not fashionable anymore.

It's brittle, makes pleats.

And it becomes threadbare.

The fashionable black cloth now is...
I forgot the name.

Thick woolen cloth.

They showed me that cloth.

It looks a lot like faille,
but it's more accurate.

I wonder, how can you love
such an unfashionable, ugly woman?

Anya, I adore you!

You are my God.

My idol.

I love every inch of you.

Every inch of your soul.

Stop it, Fedya!

Children my hear you.

Let's continue working.

Always work

We are strange people.

So many years passed,
and we love each other more and more.

- Is your marriage happy?
- Yes!

Quite happy.

- Do you play the roulette?
- No. Quite a long.

God, save us!
Don't want to remember it.

And do you play cards?

I play and I win.

- So you cheat.
- And I have never been caught.

How can you be always that lucky?

- So what did you want to talk about?
- Do you write anything now?.

I always write.

I need to support my family.

- Now I'm fiinishing a novel.
- What is the name of it?

'The Adolescent'.

'The Adolescent'?

It's interesting. What is it about?

I wanted to write about
the world of moral chaos.

I took a sinless soul.

But with a great possibility of lust.

Wiith early hate to a worthless chance.

As he thinks, money is the only
thing which can make you the best.

And as young people think
the idea of profit becomes superior.

Maybe the only one
which is worthy for a person.

Our liberals
will strangle you for such ideas.

- Aren't you afraid?
- Why do I have to be afraid of?.

How long have they been
trying to strangle me?

But I am still alive.

I want to make an offer for you.

Publish your new novel in my journal.

- I promised Katkov.
- Turn him down. How much does he pay you?

150 rubles a sheet?

I will pay 250.

And I will give 500 in advance.

No, no.

Mikhail Nikiforovitch helped me so much.

He sent me money
when I lost everything.

But that was not without compensation.

He made a fortune,
publishing your novels.

Then you will start oppressing.

You are a left revolutionary journal.

I khow you. But I will not yield to you.

Don't worry. I give you my word.

Well, you have to decide.

I need to ask advice.

- Of whom?
- Of my wife. Anna Grigorievna.

You shocked me right now.

Yes, too much time passed
since I saw you last time.

Well, I will wait for
Anna Grigorievna's decision.

I hope she won't advise you
anything bad.

I hope too.

- Fedya?
- Yes?

You've got mail.

Do you want me to help you
to sort it out?

No, thank you, my dear.

Did you read 'The Power of Character'
by Smirnova?

I need to return
the journal to the library.

Of course. I have read it yesterday.

She's a very talented author.

Sofia Ivanovna.

I hope you liked it too.

You can go, my dear.

The mail is on the table.

Dear Sir, Mr. Fyodor Mikhailovitch,

being a stranger for you,

I can say, I khow
about your nobleness.

And my debt to inform you
that your closest person

is charmed by a handsome man.

If you don't believe me,
you can look at your wife's medallion,

which she carries on her neck

and you will see his picture there.

Anna!

Did you call for me?

Do you wear a medallion?

Yes, I do.

Show it to me.

Why? You saw it many times.

Show me the medallion!

- Let's open it.
- I will open it myself!

Did you open it?

How could you believe
the anonymous letter?

How did you khow about the letter?

I wrote this letter myself.

What are you saying?
Did you write it yourself?.

I copied it from
Sofia Ivanovna's novel.

You read this novel yesterday.

I don't understand why you did this.

That was a joke.

Ajoke?

Do you understand
you can't make such jokes?

Do you understand it tortured me?

I didn't khow
you are such an Othello.

Started doing this
without sorting out.

I don't... sort out...

My God.

What have I done?

I hurt you.

Does it hurt?

No, it doesn't.

I can see how much I hurt you.

I'm sorry, my baby.

I am kinder than you are.

I wouldn't touch you.
I would hurt her.

What a misfortune could have happened!
I could've strangle you!

Anya, God saved us.

He took pity on our children.

Don't make such jokes on me.

I can be very furious.

What's next?

You played a trick on us.

You said that a mouse
was in your bed.

We turned the house upside down
with Fedosia, and found nothing.

I don't remember that.

I think that was the fiirst of April.

Yes, maybe.

Excuse me, are you
Fyodor Mikhailovitch Dostoevskiy?

Yes, it's me.

I read some of your novels.

I like how you write.

Like in 'Demons' one character says:

'Equality - that is what important.
Everyone belongs to everyone.'

Excuse me.

But I cannot agree with one thing.

Wiith your God.
You don't reach it here.

What don't I reach?

The actions.
But it's okay. We can do it ourselves.

We can make such a revolt!

Wiith fiire and death.

Wiith fiire and death.

What do you want to achieve by killing?

Justice.

The highest justice.

The new ones will come.
More cynical and bloody.

And they will destroy you,
like you did with the previous ones.

And also in the name
of the highest justice.

The ocean of blood, which you
khock into people's heads.

You can't understand that.
You are a young man.

And if you understand that,
you ruin Russia deliberately.

Do you really believe
that God sees everything?

That he can reconcile rich and poor,
satisfiied and hungry?

God. And God only.

He fails so far.

I will not tell you good bye,
dear Fyodor Mikhailovitch.

This student, our neighbor,

he looks like a bomber.

Don't you think so?

Yes, I do.

Do you khow what I am thinking?

Imagine, that we are going
and passing a young man.

Suddenly, another man comes to him.

And tells him
that the Wiinter Palace will be exploded.

And we can hear that.

And they look at us and realize
that we could hear their conversation.

What would we do?

Run to the police,
so they would arrest those people?

Would you go?

Fedya, it is a shame to say that,
but I think no, I wouldn't go.

Neither would I.

And it's a shame for me too.

Having a presentiment of these troubles.

And I can do nothing about it.

This is how it is.

I read in your diary,
you are planning to write a new novel?

Yes, I am.

- But I have doubts.
- About what?

The concept is huge,

but the older I am
the harder for me to work

- I can see you are writing something.
- Yes, I am.

Thank you for visiting.

I will stay in bed
for the rest of my life.

Nikolay Alekseevitch,
don't say that.

You will recover.

I was thinking how did we manage
to live 13 years apart and argue?

What a fool I am!

We are both fools.

You khow, I remembered...

many years ago with Grigorovitch...

we read 'Poor People'.

And we cried out of happiness.

- And then you came to me in the morning...
- And cried again.

'Wiith fainting soul athirst for Grace,
I wandered in a desert place,

And at the crossing of the ways
I saw a sixfold Seraph blaze;

He touched mine eyes with fiingers light
As sleep that cometh in the night:

And like a frightened eagle's eyes,
They opened wide with prophecies.

He touched mine ears, and they were drowned
Wiith tumult and a roaring sound:

I heard convulsion in the sky,
And flight of angel hosts on high,

And beasts that move beneath the sea,
And the sap creeping in the tree.

And bending to my mouth he wrung
From out of it my sinful tongue,

And all its lies and idle rust,
And 'twixt my lips a-perishing

A subtle serpent's forked sting
Wiith right hand wet with blood he thrust.

And with his sword my breast he cleft,
My quaking heart thereout he reft,

And in the yawning of my breast
A coal of living fiire he pressed.

Then in the desert I lay dead,

And God called unto me and said:

''Arise, and let My voice be heard,

Charged with My will go forth and span

The land and sea, and let My word

Lay waste with fiire the heart of man.''

Seal the flat.

Mr. Dostoevskiy, if I'm not mistaken.

Yes, I'm Dostoevskiy.

- Is that your neighbor? Do you khow him?
- I met him, yes.

Sometimes I saw him at the stairs.

What did that young man do?

This young man is a terrorist.

A serious one.

Wiith no fear at all.

No God's fear, no human's.

Do you want one?
They are strong though.

No, thank you.

I was at Semyonovskaya square,
where you were almost executed.

I was young.

Do you remember how it was cold there?

No, I don't remember that.

I didn't fell cold that time.

Only fear.

I wanted to live.

It was very cold.

I was in front of you.

My fiinger was shaking on a trigger.

But not from the cold.

That was the fiirst time I aimed a human.

I looked in the sight,
and that was strange.

You had a sack on your head,
but I saw your eyes through it.

And I understand that you understand
that in a second death comes.

Do you want to hear the truth?

Some strange force kept me.

And I couldn't put
my fiinger on the trigger.

But if I heard a command,
I wouldn't have missed.

This is why God took the fiinger from me.

The memory about you.

What a life you lived.
We met again.

I have to go.

Hold on.

Give me a cigarette.

I need some time.

Three years.

To decide the issue.

The issue which tortured me
my whole life.

That will be my last confession.

A character is like me. A child
of the century, of doubts and disbelief.

He lives like a fanatic.

Sometimes he is sectarian,
then a believer, then fanatic again.

And atheist again.

This issue worried me so much.
The existence of God.

This is hard, I agree.

Too much to think about.

But it's fatal.

My name must be settled.

Otherwise there will be no hope.

Wiill I have time for that.

Fyodor!

Don't be mad,
we have a surprise for you.

What?

You must have forgotten, but today
is the day of the saint Feodor Sekiot.

We have a double name day.

Yours and Fedya's.

That is why we have a guest.

Who?

Solomon!

What a guest it is!

How did you appear here?

As I understand, we have the same destiny.

Our Anna Grigorievna.

I came to a photo studio
at Sennaya street,

and I asked about the photography.
I wanted to do that a long time ago.

And when I heard your name,
Fyodor Mikhailovitch,

I couldn't miss the opportunity
to see you.

Don't judge me.

So don't object, but your study
will be the photo studio today.

I remembered you sometimes.

How we spent time in Semipalatinsk

How we read newspapers there.

He read newspapers in the street
to people, aloud.

- Do you remember that?
- Yes, you told me.

- How long are you in Petersburg?
- Ten years.

My son runs my business
in Semipalatinsk

He owns a photo company.

'Lebin and his sons'.

I haven't change my principles.

And I still respect your works.

And as for the 'Notes of the Writer',
I have read it many times.

As far as I remember, in order to make
quality pictures, you must be motionless.

I'm afraid
that will be hard for the children.

Don't worry, Fyodor Mikhailovitch.
Photographs revolutionary changed.

And one can make possible
what was impossible before.

Revolution with you too.

Be still!

- Smile.
- It doesn't suit me.

A bow.

Very good. My daughter!

Wiith a stamp.

One more.

This was the happiest day in Dostoevskiy's
life and the life of his family.

The day of an angel.

The future seemed quite certain.

His fiits didn't disturb him anymore.

The debts were paid,
thank to Anna.

'Brothers Karamazov'
haven't been written yet.

Little Alyosha is still alive,
who will die in a few days from epilepsy.

The sickhess which he inherited
from his father.

On the way to Optina Pustyn. June, 1878.

How far is it, Vasiliy Haritonovitch?

Zhizdra is close from here.

And Optina is not far from there.

Treat yourself, Fyodor Mikhailovitch.

Thank you.

Tell me, Vladimir Sergeevitch,
do you believe in mystical reality?

Supernatural things
are the only what I believe in.

A very funny and say thought
come into my mind.

What if a man was sent to Earth
as some kind of a test?

Just to see, if such creature
survives on Earth or not.

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