Original subtitles

The State Film Committee of Russia

Nadezhda Productions St. Petersburg

Producer Svetlana Voloshina

with the participation of Lenfilm Studios

Alexander Sokurov CONFESSION

from the diary of a ship Commander

A cinematographic narrative in five parts

Part One

The plot and the characters of this film

are creations of the author's imagination.

When he climbed up the nearest hills,

everything seemed beautiful.

Or perhaps he was just trying to persuade himself of this.

The deep snow under his feet

had fallen months ago.

He breathed easily.

The space seemed to contain a secret.

The air was so still,

that each word spoken in the bay

could be heard distinctly,

coming from the harbour, or from the windows of a small settlement,

built upon a dam

stone by stone, by slaves

several decades ago.

The Commander is now posted here.

He has left the banks of the Neva.

That's why

he always has something to recall.

He would say over in his mind

the names of the streets

and would imagine himself

touching the stones of its shore.

He even saw the faces of people

who walked down the long boulevard

and those faces were

both kind and intelligent.

He often caught himself longing

for kindness

and intelligence.

He had understood early in life

the particular hardness of military service.

He faced it with courage and patience.

Yet he didn't know that patience was...

painfully hard work.

As night fell it became colder,

and terribly quiet...

The Commander recalled something from Chekhov,

some lines that he hadn't really understood until now.

The Commander remembered them almost word for word:

"For whole weeks

the sky was covered with leaden clouds,

and it seemed to the inhabitants

that the dreary weather would go on forever.

Weather like this drives one to depression

and drink.

Perhaps this is

what made indifferent people cruel,

while many good and downtrodden souls,

not seeing the sun for weeks and months,

forever lost hope of a better life.

Fogs are quite common here.

They are a real disaster for seamen.

The salty sea fogs destroy

the plants on the shore.

The gloomy sky,

the sea without a single sail,

the steep, loamy bank

it is all so harsh. "

How lucky that Russia should have had such a man as Chekhov.

What a pleasure it is

to recall his words, his phrases...

I can't see.

The Commander could not decide

whether he should keep a diary to record the course of his life.

What if, by chance

someone were to read it?

Bring some sand over here and a clean piece of rag.

Break the ice.

Hearing the bosun's cries,

he realises there's a problem on deck.

Some oil's been spilled on the deck.

The Commander remembered this sound

of human hands sliding

over the oily surface

of the ice-cold steel.

I wonder, what is he thinking about?

Ah... about nothing.

Most likely they hate military service...

How stupid I am: is it possible to like something you are forced to do?

Perhaps only by becoming used to it?

No pity for that sailor.

He spilled the oil on the deck himself.

It was he who spilled the oil. He has to clean it.

No one but himself. It has to be cleaned up.

In the waves, under the snow,

in this oily puddle another seaman could perish,

just slip and fall into the sea.

There may be no one at hand to throw him a life-belt,

and his miserable cry for help

will be lost in the dark waves.

The waters of the northern seas are brutally cold...

and a man's heart, even a young and warm one,

will freeze within minutes. So...

...let him endure it. Let him clean it up.

When it's cold

there's emptiness.

No, of course it's not good that I had

no pity for the man.

"They must believe that freedom is beyond price",

wrote down the Commander.

"My subordinates examine the men

once a week, as if they were babies.

Why do they do it?

Because their subordinates are not free?

Or because most of them

don't know how to deal with freedom?"

Your hands.

"Or perhaps...

it's because we don't trust each other",

wrote the Commander.

Further on he put in his diary:

"A young man should be physically clean. "

Then he crossed it all out as if scared

to put something so intimate on paper.

Go and relieve the watch,

those whose duty it is.

Bozyakin! Bozyakin! Bozyakin!

Go and relieve the watch, and call the others.

I will relieve Ludwig, he will come.

Call Ludwig, the CD-5, and come yourself.

"If they only knew how one can hate to be free sometimes.

If they only knew how necessary it sometimes is,

to lack freedom. "

- Is there any hot water? - All the hot water has dried up.

- I've used it all up. - Me too.

I've cut my face.

- Your neck too. - Yes, it's all red.

I've got everything, pimples and allergies.

The neck, yes.

- You did it with a towel? - With a blade, a blunt one.

With an axe!

The blade's OK, I've shaved with it.

They sell axes, you know, very small ones, as souvenirs.

It trims...

"Let me have my say... "

The ship was moored

and tonight he wasn't needed any more.

But he felt unable to get up and go on shore,

where his wife and his son were waiting for him.

He caught himself once more

enjoying silence.

He didn't want to think about anything,

just listen to his heart throbbing in its cage...

Everything inside becomes quiet.

Conscience falls asleep.

"Let it sleep for a while", he thought.

Oh, I should have washed the towel.

- Which one? - From the officers' room.

- Where are the keys? - I have them.

- Have you locked it up? - Yes.

Good. It's snow white.

- Why is the water cold? - Go and ask Vanya, why ask me?

- Is it hot now? - How should I know?

Is it turned off over there?

- Is it hot? - Let's see.

- Turn on the tap! - It's already on full.

- Then turn off the cold. - What for?

We'll have neither cold nor hot water.

Oh, it's warm!

- To wash the socks. - Even hot.

Again to the watch? Why?

Oh, our last autumn...

Hurry up a bit.

- Is your water hot? Well... - Cold over there too?

We don't have any hot water.

- And you? - I have.

When you come, we're always away.

It's a mess.

We'll put out to sea before long.

I haven't sewn my tags on yet.

Have you?

What's the hurry?

A new Form 3 has been issued.

So, enough macaroni. Keks will be making noodles.

Look, the cockroaches keep running.

It's hard to wake Keks up.

I've been trying for 20 minutes.

I wake him up,

then I come back 5 minutes later.

He keeps on shouting, "give me an order in writing!"

The other chap wasn't lazy, he wrote one out

and made them register it.

He should have typed it.

Uvarov's a typist.

- Yours? - You've lost it?

- What? - Your little cross.

- Why is it lying around? - Because I've lost it.

You've lost your tie, too.

- I put it down somewhere. - During the training exercises.

Not the training, during the 'all hands'.

- In other words, in Zapolyarie. - Yesterday?

Yesterday the Mate said: "There are no more rats!"

Then one jumps from just under his feet.

Damn it. Poison again...

Did you get any chlorine?

I found her in the provisions.

She said, "Don't tell anybody I wasn't in the stores.

Say the lock was frozen".

We received pickles, cabbage...

She put cabbage on the list.

We have some tomatoes still to come.

Before returning to the shore,

the Commander quietly walked about the sleeping ship.

The cook was sleeping.

He was fast asleep.

The Commander

did not dare wake him.

The Commander was looking at the young sailors,

thinking that everyone should understand:

to work is more important than serving.

If one says about a seaman, "He performs his service,

but he is a poor mechanic",

or "a poor radio man", for example,

it means the man doesn't serve at all,

he creeps,

he pretends to serve.

And if his officer likes

to be waited on?

Am I like that?

No, the Commander decided.

I am too cautious.

An obsequious seaman can sink the ship with servility.

Freezing to death in the water, everybody will understand

it would have been better to serve than to be servile.

Uskov! You took over the night watch.

Yes, sir.

Did you read the rules?

The watch, especially privates, must sleep fully-dressed.

- The pants get wrinkled. - No one cares about that.

- You are going against regulations. - But we've always slept undressed.

- What? - We've always slept undressed.

I repeat.

Well I've been in service since '86, sweety-pie.

Come out here. Let's talk. I've been in the service since '86.

- Have you ever seen me undressed? - No.

- On duty? - No.

- How do I sleep? - Dressed.

Dressed, and do you know why?

If there's an alarm... up and off!

Only the watch officer

can get special permission to undress.

- Got it? - Yes.

The watch service must always be what?

- Ready. - No. On its guard.

And it must take itself completely in hand.

I've noticed that lately all of you

have been sleeping undressed.

We have to get rid of this obscene habit.

- Read the regulations carefully. - Yes, I read them today.

Even the mechanic, Alexander Petrovich Botaev,

when he knew he might have to respond quickly,

never allowed himself to sleep undressed.

Even he always slept with his clothes on.

It is the watch's duty.

Serguei Bakai The Commander

Camera Alexei Fiodorov

Editor Leda Semionova

Sound Sergei Moshkov

Alexander Sokurov CONFESSION

from the diary of a ship Commander

End of Part One

� Nadezhda 1998

Subtitles: Alexei Jankowsky

Subtitling by TVS - TITRA FILM