Original subtitles

FILM 1

EVERY MOVE

Kathy, unfortunately I have very bad news. Your mother died.

Huh. What a strange feeling.

I don't know how to react.

I wanted to help you, but how?

I'm with you, you know that. But what do you do?

So weird. It's supposed to be scary news, but I don't feel dread.

I don't feel anything at all. I hear what you're saying.

I got the news: my mother is dead. But what do I do?

I don't know how to react. Probably I should cry? But I don't want to.

- Strange. I don't feel anything. - And I feel strange too.

A terrible blow. How can I help you?

- I'm with you. But what can we do? - I don't know. Such a strange feeling.

Or rather on the contrary, it's some kind of anti-feeling. I feel nothing.

I'm probably in shock, right? What do you think, am I in shock?

This bizarre inappropriate behavior is probably what shock is.

My mother is dead, and I feel nothing. That's a strange reaction, right?

I don't know. All I want is to help you. But how? What can I do?

I'm with you. Need a drink? I've got a bottle of brandy with me.

Have a couple swigs and you'll feel a little better.

I don't drink, especially brandy. No, thank you, no need for that.

- You'll feel better. Believe me. - No, I don't need it.

I don't feel bad. Strange, huh?

I don't feel bad at all. And I should feel very bad, right?

The one who's found out their mother has died should feel bad, right?

And I feel nothing. I don't feel bad. I feel absolutely nothing.

Do you remember when we met Andrew a year ago? In Kiev?

Of course. I remember it very well.

And that wonderful restaurant, and how you danced for all of us.

Andrew was so dear, so real. He's very reliable, don't you think?

He's very reliable, he's a saint.

Well, not a saint of course, but close. At any rate, he never lies.

It's hard to believe, but it's true. He is the one who never lies.

Yes, he's quite amazing. And the way he watched you dance.

The way he felt your every move.

When I watch you dance, I always try to merge with your every move.

To become something whole with you. I get so captured, so engaged.

That's the only way to watch a dance. Everyone must watch it like that.

Not many people watch it like that.

Practically nobody.

But he watched just like that. A sophisticated, sensitive man.

Drew.

Of course I remember.

Yesterday he called me. It's been half a year since we saw each other.

- Half a year? Why? - Well that's not the main thing.

The main thing is that he decided to call. And we had a great talk.

By phone, of course. But I haven't had such a great talk for a long time.

That was an important conversation that came around at the right time.

What can be better than an important conversation at the right time?

As a matter of fact he should come in any minute now.

What's that? Who? Andrew? Here?

- Now? - Yes. Any minute now. What time is it?

- Twelve minutes to five. - Right, so then, in twelve minutes.

- Andrew is coming here? - Yes, we agreed he'd come here.

I thought I'd stick around until 5, and then he'll take me to dinner.

Excuse me. I'm so sorry about what's happened.

- And I'd like to… - Сould you come in a half-hour?

Yes, of course. I just need a couple of signatures, just a formality...

In a half hour, if that's okay?

Okay. I also wanted to say...

May we please speak alone here for another half an hour?

I'll come back later.

- A glass of water? - No, thank you.

- We need to talk. - Excuse me.

- You'll see each other again soon. - This is so unexpected.

- For how long haven't you seen him? - For a year.

We saw each other that one time, in Kiev, when you were dancing.

He'll be here in a few minutes.

Not to poke my nose into your private life, but I need to ask you...

- Yes? - He's in love with you, right?

This isn't just courting, but something serious?

Oh, God no! What?! Of course not. He's married.

- It's not what you think. - Andrew is married? Are you serious?

And has children. Two, I think. And a wonderful family.

We have an entirely different relationship.

- You thought he and I were together? - I was sure of it.

Tell me honestly, you're just hiding, just concealing yourself?

I understand, he's married.

Are you really that stupid? No!

I'm sure. And right now, you're behaving like this

- because you're hiding it… - You are a dummy.

I don't buy your laughing. Now I see that you are having an affair.

Don't be surprised with my laughter.

If you knew the reason you'd laugh too.

- I can bring some water. - Forget about it.

I'm not hysterical, on the contrary, I'm laughing.

This isn't because my mom died and I'm hysterical.

It's because... You know each other, do you remember?

- Of course. You were in Kiev. - We were remembering that just now.

She decided you and I have an affair. She thinks you and I are lovers.

- Funny. - Actually it's none of my business.

- Actually, it's not true. - It's just impossible.

- Theoretically it's possible. - You have kids. You love your wife.

Well, yes. That's pretty much true. Although...

Although what is love? That's a big question.

What do you think love is? Do you know something about this?

I know what happened. Alina Pavlovna passed away. They told me downstairs.

My consolations. I don't even know what to say.

I'd like to help too, but how?

Strange. Half an hour has gone by, and I still don't feel anything tragic.

I feel something perfectly different. It's so strange.

When I was laughing it was so funny. And as I was laughing I thought,

I look like a woman who's hysterical because of her mother's death. No.

I was laughing because of this joke. She thought you and I had an affair.

What a nonsense. Hilarious.

Really, it's hilarious. And weird.

Because I really love my mother. We had this very earnest relationship,

right up to yesterday, when she had her attack. But I feel nothing.

I was honestly laughing because of a joke. Really.

It's so funny! To think that Andrew and I were having an affair? Affair?

Oh my God.

Hilarious.

Back then in Kiev, I looked at him and thought... God, that's him.

I literally thought... "That's him."

And when I started dancing, I started to feel it.

I started my dance simply, as usual. For everybody, at first.

And then I suddenly felt…

If you believe me, if you accept that I'm not exaggerating now...

My heart suddenly said to me: "It's him!"

The way you sometimes read in books, "her heart whispered to her."

It happened just like that. The way it's described in books.

My heart whispered to me as I was dancing.

Dancing, you know, it's everything for me. My dance is...

It's my truth, my meaning. And so as I was dancing,

I heard my heart. And my heart said: "It's him."

It's you. I love you, Andrew.

I wanted to say that to you today, and there, I said it.

Excuse me. I know that you're experiencing a terrible loss.

But we need to help you. And for that you need to sign these papers.

Saying that you don't want an autopsy, and a few other documents.

Only then can we take the body to the morgue. This has to be done.

FILM 2

INSIDE THE DANCE

You haven't answered anything. Sorry but you should say something to me.

Yes, of course. I just think that this moment isn't very fitting.

Andrew, it isn't easy for me to explain this to you.

I'm a woman, and I am confessing my love to you.

Do you want to talk right here and now or shall we go have a drink, a dinner?

Here and now.

Okay then. However you want it, that's how it'll be.

- I see. You don't love me. - Sorry.

I'm in awe of your dance. It enchants me. I watch you dancing,

and I feel in a way alone with you, with God, with nature, but…

But it's not the same love I feel for my wife.

I love my wife.

I want to be with her till the end of my life.

I'm very sorry.

It hurts so much.

- But what can I do? - You can't do anything.

It's all so stupid. I was sure you felt the same.

I had no doubt in you whatsoever, and it turns out I was mistaken.

And because of that mistake I am now in unbearable pain.

It hurts so much.

- What can I do for you? - Nothing.

- We mustn't meet for some time. - Of course. As you say.

- I'm going to miss you and your dance. - There's nothing you can do about it.

You shouldn't come to my performances for a while either.

I'm sorry that I've caused you pain, Kathy. This will all pass.

Those are just feelings, after all. And feelings come and go.

You need time. Time will erase this love from your heart.

I guess you know nothing about the heart.

Don't you know that your love and your heart are the same thing?

A person with no love is a person with no heart. It's the same thing.

It's one whole thing. Don't you know that?

If you don't know that, I'm very sorry.

I do have love, Kathy. And my love is in my heart.

But it's love for another woman. I love another woman, Kathy.

I'm sorry for having to say this. You've forced me to say it yourself.

I'm sorry. I'm very sorry for you. Excuse me.

Kathy, unfortunately I have very bad news. Your mother died.

Huh. What a strange feeling.

I don't know how to react.

I wanted to help you but how?

I'm with you, you know that. But what do you do?

So weird. It's supposed to be scary news, but I don't feel dread.

I don't feel anything at all. I hear what you're saying.

I got the news: My mother is dead. But what do I do?

I don't know how to react. Probably I should cry? But I don't want to.

Strange. I don't feel anything.

And I feel strange too.

A terrible blow. How can I help you?

I'm with you. But what can we do?

I don't know. Such a strange feeling.

Or rather on the contrary it's some kind of anti-feeling. I feel nothing.

I'm probably in shock, right? What do you think, am I in shock?

This bizarre inappropriate behavior is probably what shock is.

My mother is dead, and I feel nothing. That's a strange reaction, right?

I don't know. All I want is to help you. But how? What can I do?

I'm with you. Need a drink? I've got a bottle of brandy with me.

Have a couple swigs and you'll feel a little better.

I don't drink, especially brandy. No, thank you, no need for that.

- You'll feel better. Believe me. - No, I don't need it.

I don't feel bad. Strange, huh?

I don't feel bad at all. And I should feel very bad, right?

The one who's found out their mother has died should feel bad, right?

And I feel nothing. I don't feel bad. I feel absolutely nothing.

Do you remember when we met Andrew a year ago? In Kiev?

Of course. I remember it very well.

And that wonderful restaurant, and how you danced for all of us.

Andrew was so dear, so real. He's very reliable, don't you think?

True. He's very reliable, he's a saint.

Well, not a saint of course, but close. At any rate, he never lies.

It's hard to believe, but it's true. He is the one who never lies.

Yes, he's quite amazing. And the way he watched you dance.

You know it's very important for me the way a person watches dance.

I've observed the way people watch dance for many years.

I go and watch dance performances quite often.

I can't help myself, I observe the audience, the way people watch.

And I have my own opinion on the subject.

I'm quite sure that dance is something not for watching, but for listening.

Of course, not with your ears, but with your entire being.

You have to become one with the dancer,

you have to let the dance fill you, give yourself over to it,

let it embrace you.

And then you and the dancer suddenly become whole,

and everyone watching the dance become whole, we become one dance.

And then there's no one performing the dance, there's no one watching it,

there's just the dance and nothing else.

But not everybody watches like that.

That's exactly how he watched.

Yes, he watched properly. Well, he got occasionally distracted,

but that was probably the result of his powerful bewilderment.

Drew.

Of course I remember.

Amazing you didn't run into each other.

Run into each other? Where could we have run into each other, Kathy?

He was here literally just five minutes ago.

What? What are you talking about? Drew? Where? Here?

Yes. He came by. I asked him to.

I needed to say something very important to him,

and I couldn't leave, because Mother was feeling worse.

Excuse me. I'm so sorry about what's happened.

- And I'd like to… - Could you come in a half-hour?

Yes, of course. I just need a couple of signatures, just a formality...

- In a half hour, if that's okay? - I also wanted to say...

May we please speak alone here for another half an hour?

I'll come back later.

- A glass of water? - No, thank you.

- We need to talk. - Excuse me.

Your mother dreamed of becoming a dancer in her childhood, Kathy.

That's why she loved your dancing.

Now she dances together with you,

she dances in your heart. Now you both perform one dance for two.

That's probably true. But I don't feel any of that yet.

Maybe I just need time before I can realize what's happened.

Kathy, your mother was able to pass on this amazing gift

of being able to so deeply connect with your own heart.

That is what's most important. Because your dance is born from your heart.

And your heart is God, or nature. It doesn't matter what it's called,

it's the essence that matters.

I know what happened. Alina Pavlovna passed away.

They told me downstairs, and I decided to come back.

My condolences. I don't even know what to say.

Hello, Drew. You and I met at some point, do you remember?

Of course, I remember you. We met in Kiev.

Yes. Kathy danced, and it was so beautiful!

And I remember very well how you watched her, Andrew.

I lied to you, Kathy. It was all lies. I just got scared.

I was afraid of what would happen. I was afraid of the responsibility.

I'm used to assuming that everything on this earth depends on me.

I always feel like I control everything.

I have a mania of greatness, Kathy, and that's why I'm afraid.

I deceived you, because I love you.

You've been within me for a long time, but I daren't tell myself that.

My sense of responsibility stops me.

I decided to lie to you, but then I found out that your mother had died.

I thought you must be experiencing so much grief and not a drop of joy.

I want to give you our joy, the joy we have both earned.

I can't go on living only for the sake of my own ego

and in fear of lying to myself and to others.

I am completely stained by complexes and lies. I love you.

Excuse me please. I know that you're experiencing a terrible loss.

But we need to help you. And for that you need to sign these papers.

Saying that you don't want an autopsy, and a few other documents.

Only then can we take the body to the morgue. This has to be done.

FILM 3

SENSED BY YOU

Mom. I had a serious conversation with Andrew.

I told him everything. I revealed my feelings for him. Told him I love him.

Yes. I had a feeling that would happen soon. And what was his answer?

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he said that he loves his wife and left.

Oh! What a disaster. You must be in terrible pain?

The world just collapsed into hell that second. I felt unbearable pain.

My poor thing. I'm so sorry for you. What can I do for you, my daughter?

It's important that I talk to you now, you hear me out and understand me.

That's unfortunately all I can do now, hear you out and understand you.

And accept me, Mom.

Accept all the events of my life just as they are. This is very important.

I've always tried to do that. For all of our life together.

I value this highly. It's important for me to tell you what happened.

This is the second most important event of my life.

The first thing that you had to accept was my dancing.

Although you didn't accept it at first. You even got sick because of it.

I did accept it and you don't have to remind me about that.

As far as your grief is concerned, believe me,

I not only accept it,

I try with all my heart to get through it with you.

I wish it was as painful for me as it is for you.

I want to feel the same things you are feeling.

That's precisely why I decided to tell you everything top to bottom.

So that you'd understand what I was going through.

First, terrible pain. I felt the same terrible pain I did in Delhi,

when the dance was starting its life.

It felt as if a piece of scalding metal was being pressed against my heart.

That's what I felt at first.

- My god, I'm so sorry! - But then Andrew came back.

He said he had deceived me, it had been a moment of weakness.

He said he loved me. He loves me, Mom. We're happy.

I'm happy. Happy, just as I was when my Delhi Dance came together.

Everything is just like it was then. At first, terrible pain,

and then tremendous joy! There it is, Mom. There's what happened to me.

You know everything now. I want you to accept this.

Yes. Everything's just as it was then.

- Everything's just as it was then! - Yes.

And just as I did then, I want you to accept this.

It's so important for me that you accept this.

This is an unhappy relationship. Andrew is married, he has children.

It's an unhappy story and unhappy love.

And unhappy love can never be true love.

Love can't be unhappy. Unhappiness cannot be love.

For some reason I was sure you'd react this way. I was ready for this.

I've always been not just a daughter but a friend in unhappiness.

You raised me as a friend for your unhappiness.

Two things you dreamed of in life that never came true were

"dance" and "love". These two things made you unhappy.

You dreamt of becoming a great dancer, and didn't become one.

You dreamt of having love, and didn't have it.

You wanted a friend in unhappiness

and tried to make one out of your daughter.

A few years ago I first showed you the Delhi dance,

and in your eyes I saw not joy, but madness. It was jealousy.

That's what I thought at first, but then when you accepted my dance

I decided you had just had an unusual reaction to my strange dance.

But now I have absolutely no doubts that it was jealousy.

Because now everything has repeated itself precisely as it was then.

You can't accept my happiness.

You don't need the truth about happiness. You don't want to hear it,

don't want to let it in, but it sounds from everywhere nonetheless.

So here's the truth once again, Mom. Happiness exists!

To dance your dance and to love your beloved, that's what happiness is!

Yes. Everything's just as it was.

Everything's just as it was!

I beg your pardon for interrupting.

You need to go to the ward. The doctor will come to see you in 5 minutes.

I'm coming. We'll just finish talking. Two more minutes, alright?

I'll be waiting in your room.

Now I'll tell you the truth. My truth is just as brief as yours. Here it is.

It's not your dance that bothers me, but its content.

You sing the praises of tragedy, dirt and grief.

You call grief happiness, and are happy yourself because of it.

You make happiness of grief and so are happy yourself.

Grief does not become happiness but you become happy and that drives me mad.

You confuse your wishes with reality. You take lives of the wretched,

the sick, ugly, ruined people of Delhi, unhappy people,

and from this you create a beautiful dance, admired by all.

You gain fame singing out the woes of others.

You dance, while those you dance about die from poverty and disease.

You get happy on the unhappiness of others. That is what I do not accept.

The same goes for Andrew. You love a man who betrayed his family.

A man who brought unhappiness to others.

You are happy, but his wife and his kids are not.

Your happiness was obtained for the price of others' unhappiness.

That is the central trait of yours that I stand against.

And I am unhappy not because you are happy.

I am unhappy not because I have stomach cancer. Although for that reason too.

But I see my whole life as nothing but grief.

And indeed that's what it is. Life is nothing but grief! I always thought so.

I felt that way even before my diagnosis.

You had a successful operation, you don't have cancer anymore.

You're blowing it all up again.

You ought to quit drawing up illusions regarding my life.

My life can't become unhappier, because it's unhappy already.

Life is unhappy in and of itself, not for some particular reason.

But what gets to me the most in this life is your position,

by which your mother's disease enables the possibility of your happiness.

After my death you may come up with a "My Mother's Unhappiness" Dance.

That's how you're built, being happy at the expense of others' unhappiness.

And forgive me, but this I cannot accept.

I ask you to consider our conversation on this matter closed, forever.

Happiness exists, Mom. I hope you'll find that out yourself somehow.

Life is suffering, child.

I wish you a speedy realization of that fact.

Kathy, unfortunately I have very bad news.

Andrew's wife Olga committed suicide. She took some kind of medicine.

The children were on a walk with Andrew.

Andrew called me, he was in such a state, he didn't explain much at all.

He called you first, but your phone is off

because you're at the hospital.

So then I decided to come here. Hang on, Kathy.

Huh. What a strange feeling.

I don't even know how to react.

FILM 4

CALM AND CAREFUL

Unfortunately I have very bad news for you. The patient is doomed.

The doctor is trying his best, but there's no hope.

Well, and to be frank I'm probably violating medical etiquette here,

but she's already dead. Death came to her 10 minutes ago.

The doctors are completing the papers. They'll tell you after lunch.

Don't tell anyone. I did this only because you've asked me to.

I'm very sorry.

Here you go, as promised.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

Sit down please. Stay with me a little bit.

Okay, I guess I can.

I'm sorry to mention it again but...

If the doctor finds out that I told you beforehand, they'll fire me.

- If they know about the money… - Nobody will find out, I promise.

Can you sit with me a little while? I don't want to be here alone.

Okay, okay.

Here I am.

I'm sorry this happened. She was a young woman. She was very pretty.

Have you ever heard of a dance called "Delhi"?

Delhi? No.

I think there's a city called Delhi. I think it's the capital of India.

Is it related to the dance you're talking about?

Directly so. It's her dance. She invented it.

Or, as she said to me once, she "received it".

She received this dance, and then she became very famous.

So she was a dancer?

I am the dancer. I am the dance. I am the end of the dance.

- You're saying strange things. - Her dance is strange too.

It's something extraordinary. Something so beautiful it becomes terrifying.

When you understand what you're looking at, you become frightened,

and then you decide to surrender yourself to this overwhelming feeling

and then the whole world turns upside-down!

"You must lose the world in order to obtain it".

I can't remember who said that, but it's about her dance.

But why did she call it "Delhi"?

One day she went to India on a tour with her opera and ballet company,

where she was in the corps-du-ballet. And there in Delhi she wound up

in this place called the Main Bazaar.

This is the amalgamation of human tragedy.

Mutilated beggars and vagrants, filth, unsanitary living conditions,

and yet everywhere they sell hot food,

the carcasses of birds hang in 100F heat, the stench is unbearable.

Small boys slice open tourists' bags with sharpened coins,

people barter over clothes and fake jewelry.

She saw that the whole world is full of slime and worms.

Yelling and screaming, car horns and cruel laughter everywhere.

She found herself in hell.

And then she suddenly felt a staggering pain as if from a needle.

She was literally bound with pain. She herself became pain, pain embodied.

And then a fried meat seller appeared beside her.

On his fiery red mound of coals lay a scrap of metal.

Probably a rake for moving the coals, but Kathy calls it a piece of metal.

And not really knowing what she was doing

she grabbed that piece of metal and pressed it up against her heart.

She seared her chest leaving an unbelievably deep burn.

She lost consciousness and was taken to a hospital. They treated her.

She probably experienced shock, not to mention the burn.

She quit the theater. She was healing for a long time.

And then one night, practically right at dawn

she dreamt of a dance. She dreamt of someone doing this dance.

And then she realized that this person and the dance itself

are all one and the same. And that it was herself.

When she woke up she vividly remembered many of the movements of the dance

and she remembered the name of the dance, "Delhi."

And that very morning in her room Kathy began to create her unrepeatable dance.

In her imagination she saw all the awful images from the market.

Beggars, the red-hot iron, disfigured faces, filth.

But from this the movements of her dance became all the more beautiful.

That's what this dance was.

It's a song of filth and horror. A hymn to deformity and human tragedy.

It's a dance that tells the world that there is no horror and no pain.

There is only the beauty of dance. That everything is a dance.

And Auschwitz is a dance, too?

Why did you remember Auschwitz?

That's where the Nazis killed thousands of Jewish children.

And what do Jewish children have to do with this?

According to you, that's a dance too.

You reacted so quickly. I haven't told you the rest of the story.

Did your relatives die in Auschwitz?

No. I was just giving an example, the first thing that came to my mind.

I wonder why Auschwitz was the first thing that came to your mind…

Forgive me if I said something out of line.

When you said that pain and horror are a beautiful dance,

Auschwitz was what I remembered as a symbol of pain and horror.

I can't describe to you the meaning and essence of the Delhi Dance with words.

You have to watch the dance to understand it all.

I can only tell you what I understood when I saw it for the first time.

It was in Kiev.

I realized or rather kind of sensed with my entire being…

Well, how do I explain this… That what's important is

to letting everything be the way it is.

What matters is letting everything just be.

What do you mean? It all exists anyway.

I mean that everything is the way it is.

And all of it should just be.

You just have to allow all of it be, with no limit.

It's hard for me to find the right words.

I don't mean there are no limits. The limits should exist as well.

In other words, from within

you must allow everything around you and everywhere else to be.

Let everything be in place.

- Let everything be just the way it is. - What about Auschwitz?

Let Auschwitz be in place.

Let everything be where it is.

Did your wife come up with that dance recently?

My wife? My wife didn't come up with that dance.

I'm talking about a different woman.

I didn't get that. I thought we were talking about your wife.

Pardon me, but it's your wife lying there, who's had…

Yes. But I talked about a different woman. About a great dancer.

Her dance gives me the strength to read this world, to live in it.

- Then may I ask you a direct question? - No.

I don't know.

Okay, sure.

Please don't be angry.

But the fact that your wife committed suicide...

You mean, that should be as it is, too?

That should just be the way it is? That's also the Delhi Dance?

It's all my fault.

- I shouldn't have asked. - You asked, I answered.

- I'm sorry. - I'm guilty

for what happened to the Jewish children at Auschwitz.

I erased them all to dust and made soap from them.

Heil Hitler! Here is my dance! Heil Hitler!

This is my dance! Heil Hitler! Heil!

- Please stop. - I'm to blame for everything.

- Heil Hitler! - You can't do that.

This is my dance! I'm to blame for everything.

- Andrew, you need to calm down. - I'm to blame for everything!

Heil! Heil Hitler!

Heil Hitler!

- I am to blame for everything! - You need to come down.

- Heil Hitler! This is my dance. - You need to calm down.

I am to blame for everything.

- Here is my dance. - Calm down. I'm here with you.

- Heil! - I guess I just felt I needed to come.

Hey, alright, calm down. You need to be brave and patient.

All of this will pass. Would you mind leaving us alone?

Yes, of course, excuse me.

You have to let her go.

I know this isn't easy for you, but you have to.

Open your heart, give her a chance to fly away.

Besides, she's not with you anymore. It's not her anymore.

She isn't the person you knew anymore.

- She's dead. - Yes, I know.

- I'm to blame for everything. - Stop looking for someone to blame.

It's time to be a grownup. It's time for all of us to grow up.

Time for us to stop looking for who's to blame. The first sign of growing up.

- What about Auschwitz? - What do you mean, Auschwitz?

Where they made soap out of Jewish children.

What do Jewish children and soap have to do with this?

I'm just giving an example, the first thing that came to mind.

Why was that the first thing that came to mind?

Did you lose any relatives there?

No. But somebody must be to blame for what happened there.

Who's to blame? I want to know... Are there guilty people out there?

That's the question. Are there guilty people in the world?

You've got to let it go, Andrew. Just be brave and let it go.

That's the real meaning of this. That's what freeing yourself is.

She doesn't belong to you anymore. The woman you knew isn't here anymore.

She's dead. Let her go and everything will be alright.

You and she and the Jewish children will feel better.

Tell me this. Am I to be blamed for her death?

You just need to stop being a baby. You need to grow up.

Do you remember how her dance begins?

It begins with the unbearable pain of all the suffering souls on earth.

It's as if a scalding piece of metal was laid against her heart.

And then there is a long fragment of acceptance.

The general acceptance of pain, and terror, and tragedy.

And then the main part of the dance: the beauty.

All that is accepted, all our guilt and blame is turned into beauty.

Our guilt is turned into a divine pattern. And then the finale.

What a genius she is to come up

with this beautiful and profound dance.

I can only feel that when I see her dancing.

When I'm close to her I don't want to ask that question "who's to blame."

And when she's not around I start to doubt everything again.

And then that damn Auschwitz pops back into my head.

She's gone now. Let her go.

You have your life, she has hers. She made a choice herself.

Nobody's to be blamed for that. There's no one to blame. Let her go.

Imagine that you're signing off on extra vacation for your co-workers.

Each of your signatures is a vacation for a colleague.

Sign her off. Let go of her, the Jewish children, the scalding metal.

Let it all go off on vacation. Let it all fly away.

Let it all fly.

Please excuse me. But these papers need to be signed.

I know that it's hard for you but you have to do it. Please sign here.

You'll have to leave your signature on the bottom of every page.

FILM 5

INSIDE AND OUTSIDE

I came over to help you out. How are you?

- To be honest, I'm feeling terrible. - And how's Olga?

She poisoned herself. Took two bottles of sleeping pills.

Kathy, I'm sorry. I can't be happy after what happened.

Happiness hardly depends on circumstances, doesn't it?

- What does it depend on? - On the heart.

Happiness is inside your heart.

You ever get a feeling of a piece of scalding iron pressed to your heart?

I don't know. I don't feel anything lately.

It's impossible not to feel that piercing pain.

The heart turns red and becomes a piece of scalding metal itself.

The heart itself is a piece of scalding metal. Happiness is there,

deep in that flame, in the very center of your heart.

- Happiness is unbearable pain? - No.

Happiness is calmness and conciliation.

If you stick a piece of scalding metal in your heart, doesn't that hurt?

Only the first few seconds.

And then after that pain comes bliss and calmness.

And then from that calmness grow people and cities, flowers and trees,

the whole world grows out of it.

This world is constructed from patterns of calmness and beauty.

Yeah. Everything you talk about is in your dance.

I can feel it when I watch you dance.

But I don't dance. What can I do?

My wife Olga isn't a dancer. What could she have done?

Live a life.

To perform the dance you don't have to be a professional dancer.

We're born for dance, and our life is a dance. Whether we want it or not.

When you eat or go to work or slaughter a pig

or have sex or fix a car, you're performing a dance.

You're moving to music, and that means you're dancing.

What's this music you're talking about that everything's moving to?

Is there any music playing right now?

The rhythm of your heart. The beat of your heart is your music.

Put your right hand on your heart, close your eyes and listen.

That's the music we dance to. All people, with no exceptions.

We're the dancers, we're the dance, we're the end of the dance.

All reasons and inquiries originate from this music and come back to it.

When the music is over, your world goes to your heart, where it came from.

Can you always hear the rhythm of your heart? Every second?

I can always hear it.

But other people and I can't.

We can't listen in on the rhythm of our hearts every moment.

We have to fix cars, have sex and slaughter pigs.

Why listen in? You just have to feel that rhythm with your entire being.

But I can't.

My wife took two bottles of sleeping pills

because I told her that I love another woman,

that I love you.

Now we're in this hospital,

where it smells like death, and here between us is my miserable wife

who poisoned herself because of us. And I do feel the guilt.

Do you not feel guilty about what's happened?

You think you have to find a guilty party?

You think it's absolutely necessary for someone to be guilty?

There's got to be a way around it without guilt, without the guilty.

Empathy has to be an acceptable substitute for search for the guilty.

Empathizing is far more important than finding someone to blame.

- What about Auschwitz? - What do you mean, Auschwitz?

The very same Auschwitz where they made soap from Jewish children.

Wasn't someone guilty of that?

Why Auschwitz? Did someone close to you die there?

I'm just giving an example, the first thing that came to my mind.

Strange that's the first thing that comes to mind.

But the question remains…

Let it go.

But I can't.

I can't.

Everything's gone over okay. Your wife has come to.

She's doing just fine. She's going to live. You can take a breather.

You can't go and visit her now. Come back tomorrow morning.

The doctor will also meet with you tomorrow morning.

May we please speak alone here?

Yes, of course. I just need someone to sign this, it's just a formality.

Can we do that in half an hour?

Okay. I'll come back later. Maybe you need some valerian drops?

- No, thank you. - We need to talk.

Excuse me.

You know, it'd be easier for me if she died.

- Because you're afraid. - Of what?

Of everything. You're a coward, Andrew.

You're afraid of yourself and afraid of the world around you.

The only thing of value you have

is our love, but you don't believe in it.

The ghost of the Auschwitz in your head keeps getting in your way.

You are a prisoner of this Auschwitz.

You're a Jewish child whom life turns into soap

so that human rights activists can wash hands before going to protests.

Even now, as I speak these words, you're scared,

because in your heart instead of true empathy

there are only concepts. The concept of kindness,

the concept of fairness, the concept of the Holocaust.

He who empathizes eats his repast with dirty hands,

and he who soaps his hands before eating heightens the demand for soap.

Soap is produced in bigger quantities, but our hands do not get cleaner.

You think there are two cups on the scale.

But in fact the scale has only one cup.

And nothing is weighed in that cup, from that cup people drink.

People drink their life. Each one drinks their own life.

And you mustn't turn the Grail into a storecounter scale.

You love me and your wife poisoned herself for different sets of reasons.

There's nothing to weigh here.

Only to drink.

I sold my car because of these traffic jams.

It's impossible to move around. It takes me 2 hours to get to work.

In the subway it takes 30 minutes to get to the door of the university.

I ride the subway, I read advertisements on the train windows.

I find out there are new vacuum cleaners and you can get home loans.

I find out there are tourist countries. There is Egypt, there is Turkey!

There's Turkey! I haven't been there, but I know it exists.

There are cities, people, subways and cars. There are traffic jams.

All this exists. This world exists. I see it.

I ride the subway a lot. I go underground, there's life there too.

There's life underground. The tunnels are dark, the lights are bright.

There's electricity there…

I go underground. I myself chose this path.

I sold my car because of traffic jams.

I decided to go underground, because it's faster that way.

I go underground. I go underground.

What was I just saying? I already forgot.

What was I saying?

I go underground. I already said that. I don't remember what was next.

Sorry, I don't feel very good. I have to go.

- We'll talk later. - You're sick, I'll take you.

No. I'm going home, the kids are there. And I want to be alone.

I'll take the subway, go underground.

It's time for me to go.

Goodbye.

FILM 6

IN THE BEGINNING AND IN THE END

I have very bad news for you. The patient is doomed.

The doctor is trying his best, but there's no hope.

A massive heart attack. Her heart's stopped.

Well, and to be frank I'm probably violating medical etiquette here,

but she's already dead. Death came to her 10 minutes ago.

Doctors are completing the papers. They'll tell you after lunch.

Don't tell anyone. I did this only because you've asked me to.

I'm very sorry.

Yes, by the way…

Thank you very much for informing me so promptly and honestly.

Sit down please. Stay with me a little bit.

Okay, I guess I can.

I'm sorry to mention it again but...

If the doctor finds out that I told you beforehand, they'll fire me.

- If they know about the money… - Nobody will find out, I promise.

Can you sit with me a little while? I don't want to be here alone.

Okay, okay.

Here I am.

And I want to say that I'm very sorry. And please accept my condolences.

Have you ever heard of the Delhi Dance?

Delhi? Delhi you mean like a sandwich place or the capital of India?

This dance was created in the capital of India, in Delhi.

At a place called the "Main Bazaar."

In the midst of filth, human suffering, poverty, spoiled meat, tourist stuff.

It's one of the most beautiful dances I've been lucky to see.

And I've seen quite a few, because I'm a professional dance critic.

A beautiful dance in a miserable place. That's very strange.

You know, I've only worked here for a half-year,

and I've already seen so many dead people.

- Dead people? - Yeah, dead people. I mean corpses.

- Why are you telling me this? - I want to share my experience.

Somebody dies just about every week.

In the elevator I started thinking…

I was riding the cargo elevator with a dead woman on a stretcher.

I am looking at her, and I realize this young woman is exactly my age.

And suddenly I very vividly imagined myself in her place.

It happened very clearly, like some sort of a vision.

And then I suddenly and clearly realized that I too will someday die.

You probably don't understand this.

Why? I understand.

No, you don't understand. Nobody understands.

No matter who I tell they listen and say, "I understand", but they don't.

We can't realize our mortality as long as we live or don't have cancer.

I pretty much thought about my death before. And I've seen a lot of corpses

and been to autopsies when I was in college.

But that time I understood it all in a sort of special way.

All of a sudden I truly understood that I could die, and that I would die.

I can't explain it to you. If you say now "I'm going to die someday",

even a hundred times, nothing happens, you still won't understand anything.

Even if you listen to me and think,

"That's nothing new, I was thinking the same thing!" That's not it.

We don't understand that we'll die. And that thought just struck me.

We don't understand that we'll die. You know that but you don't understand.

Therein lies all your woe, your whole problem. If you understood

that you were going to die, you would begin to live differently.

What do you mean "differently"?

You think I'm a bad person.

I take money from you, I live off of your woes. I think differently.

You are an independent lady.

You offer me money. You want to know if your close friend is dead or not.

I take your money because I know I need that money very much.

I need to save up for a trip. I want to go to India. Forever maybe.

I think I can study there from some teacher

how to approach death and what awaits us beyond.

I want to learn this from a teacher, not from books.

Is this all an utopia, or could there be a point in going there?

You know, there's a saying:

"It's better to live your life poorly than to live someone else's with success."

How come? Every person has only their own life.

No. You see, I ended up with someone else's.

I lived a beautiful, seemingly happy, but someone else's life.

But we're not talking about me now. I want you to remember the saying.

In India, teachers do not sit under every tree waiting for new students.

On the other hand, you're going to do things however you can manage to.

It's too bad you didn't see the Delhi Dance.

It may have some effect on you, since you have such a sensitive nature.

Then tell me about the dance. At least in general.

How can you tell about a dance?

You're a critic. Isn't that what you do?

Heavens to Betsy… Yes, that is exactly what I do.

I told you it's better to live a bad life of your own than to live

someone's life successfully. I lived someone's life.

I talked about dance, but never learnt to do a single satisfactory pas.

So what is this Delhi Dance?

When did it appear? Who is its author? Or is it a folk dance?

Have you ever seen a pig being slaughtered?

No, I haven't.

But you can guess that it's not the most pleasant thing to look at?

No, I didn't guess that. I mean, I haven't thought about it.

- Do you eat pork? - I do.

So it's a nasty thing to behold, slaughtering a pig.

If you understood that too, you'd never eat it.

Butchers kill cows and pigs and their blood is sprayed all around.

The poor animals scream and their eyes are filled with horror, and you eat them.

I've been to a proper slaughterhouse in America,

I already didn't eat meat before that,

but after visiting the place several of my colleagues became vegetarians.

What were you doing at the slaughterhouse?

I was watching a show by an American choreographer.

He directed a show at a slaughterhouse, to the delight of the American critics.

It was a show against the war in Iraq. Absolute nonsense.

The show was worthless, the idea was worthless, vulgarity and nothing else.

But that's not the point.

My parents were vegetarians

and I had never eaten meat until yesterday.

But yesterday I bought a piece of pork at the market.

I came home, cut off a piece, put it in my mouth, and started chewing.

And swallowed it.

I managed to chew and swallow a piece of raw pork.

That's how I'd like to begin telling you about the Delhi Dance.

I don't understand.

My life is a fake. The a show against the war in Iraq at a slaughterhouse!

Everyone who admires the Delhi Dance are liars.

The Delhi Dance isn't reachable by our understanding.

In the end I vomited from the meat and fell unconscious, that's what happened.

To write about dancing without being able to dance...

This is someone else's life well-lived.

Telling about a dance and the dance itself are not the same thing.

Admiring a dance and dancing it are not the same thing.

The Delhi Dance is the dance of a happy vegetarian with pork in their mouth.

Empathy, that's what was missing from my life as a critic.

And there's no place for it there.

Empathy is the true measure of honesty, of deeper understanding of the world.

He who empathizes does not go to the protests.

He who truly empathizes does not write articles about theatre,

but is engaged in executing his role.

Isn't giving a performance against the war in Iraq a kind of empathy?

It's an intellectual concept.

But true empathy does not render concepts.

Living another's life means precisely living within a concept

created by he who has no empathy and no true understanding of things.

I lived a nice life describing terrors and marvels of the slaughterhouse.

But the author of the Delhi Dance was herself the cow

who was skinned and hung on a hook.

The author of the Delhi Dance is a bloody bovine carcass,

which suddenly began dancing this magical dance of beauty.

He who speaks of crap is crap. But he who speaks of beauty is beauty.

Your own miserable life is better than someone else's wonderful life.

Well?!

Andrew, unfortunately I have very bad news. She's dead.

Huh. What a strange feeling. I don't even know how to react.

It's supposed to be scary news, but I don't feel dread.

I don't feel anything at all.

I hear what you're saying, I understand, yes.

I got the news: the woman I love is dead. But what do I do?

I don't know how to react. Probably I should cry? But I don't want to.

Such a strange feeling. I don't feel anything.

I feel very strange too. Such a disaster. But what can I do?

Because you don't understand that at the end there is death.

What?

False and meaningless feelings are born

from your failure to see that at the end of everything there is death.

You're telling us?

Telling everyone. I came to understand this recently.

What's she talking about? I don't understand.

Miss, are you speaking to us?

She realized that she's going to die someday,

and you haven't realized what death is. That's what she's saying.

I don't know what death is?

Who is she saying that to? I haven't realized?

Are you talking to me right now? I don't know what death is?

I don't know? Me?

I am standing here right now because…

Because of death. You know that we're here because of death!

- Not your death. - What?!

Excuse me, I have to go. Wait here.

I'll be right back, I'll explain what will need to be done.

This is hardly someone else's death?

It is not someone's death to me?

She meant to say that even the death of someone who is close to you,

is still someone else's death. It's not your death.

What are these words? I don't understand a single word.

I don't understand what you're saying to me here.

I have lost someone very close to me. I know what death is.

That's what death is, right in front of me, I see it. There it is.

So many words. You utter so many words, all the time.

Talk, talk. One idea gives over to another, and again. You talk, talk.

So many words. So many words.

There's the true advantage that dance holds over us all.

There is silence.

In the beginning there was silence,

and the silence was with God, and the silence was God.

I decided to come here. I can't stand it at home.

Sit down. They told us to sit here and wait.

What? I already know everything.

The nurse called me right after it happened. What else should I wait for?

Probably the doctor, and his closing words.

I don't need any words. I didn't come here for that.

- I just want to be here, that's all. - Go ahead and be here.

Just shut up, for heaven's sake. Be here, silently.

Andrew finally understood that silence is golden and shut up. You shut up too.

Shut up! You hear me?

I don't want to hear a word from you!

I can't stand listening to you! Not a word! Got it? Got it?

Got it.

I'm sorry. I lost my nerve. Excuse me.

How's your wife, Andrew, how are the kids?

They're all fine. My wife and kids are at the cottage with her parents.

I don't feel like talking. Is it OK if I just keep quiet?

Yes, of course. We must all obey the commands of this strict lady.

- Once again, please forgive me. - No, but why? Continue commanding.

You're an expert and a critic. You know better what needs to be done. We obey.

You've decided to show us all how to keep a hold on yourself?

I think you just don't really care.

I've accepted all that a long time ago.

You don't need to be a jerk, being a jerk doesn't suit a famous critic.

Only the beginners are jerks, people like you should be lecturing.

Go ahead and lecture if you want, but don't be a jerk.

It doesn't fit your age.

- I know this is hardest part for you. - No, it's not hard for me.

I don't have a choice. I'm still alive and I continue to live.

I need to keep living. There's no other choice but to accept all this.

For my entire life that's all I've ever done. I accept and accept.

And now once again I've accepted everything.

The dancer, the dance, the end of the dance.

How did you do all that?

Thanks to death.

Everything we have of value in this life is death.

I myself have been dying for several years.

First it's cancer, then a successful operation, then cancer again,

then another successful operation.

Lera, I suddenly realized a very simple thing.

We're all going to die.

Death is the healthiest medicine. Death cures us all.

Cancer is our doctor.

Our Zodiac doctor.

Our doctor is a crab.

It's a catastrophe, but it's funny. Oh my god it's funny.

Our doctor is cancer, did you hear that, Lera?

Cancer! Not the disease, but a crab. Our doctor is cancer.

Our doctor is cancer.

Cancer…

Yes.

Excuse me, please. I know you are in the midst of something terrible.

But in order for us to help you, you need to sign these papers.

Saying that you're not going to do an autopsy and a few other documents.

Only then can we take the body to the morgue.

This has to be done.

FILM 7

ON THE BOTTOM AND THE TOP OF SLEEP

I talked to the nurse, and I know everything's okay.

Thank God. What a stroke of luck. Whew!

Mom, why did you come here? You could find everything out by phone.

I called, but the lady at the desk said she had no new information.

I thought it'd be better if I came to the hospital.

After all I can't sit still either. I feel guilty too.

I don't feel guilty, Mom.

You're guilty, nonetheless. You and Andrew drove the poor woman to suicide.

Why did you come here, Mom?

Do you remember an old acquaintance of mine, Lera?

You met her back in Kiev, at the restaurant, when you danced.

She's a typical intellectual sort of a lady.

I don't remember.

She never visited us but we hung out when we were younger.

Right after I married your father and moved to Moscow.

And then we met up again back in Kiev at the restaurant.

You won't remember her. You've got a lot of people humming around you.

It's just today I found out she's been dead for two years.

So weird, two years have gone by, and I knew nothing about it.

- You and she were close? - How should I put it? Not really.

We used to be friends, and then we saw each other less and less often.

But I know she liked your dance very much.

She was a ballet critic by profession.

- What's her last name? - I don't remember. It doesn't matter.

She never wrote about you or your dance. Because she was crazy about it.

2 years ago I bumped into her at a Polish cultural venue in Kiev.

We talked through the intermission. Talked about your dance the whole time.

And she said she can't write about your dance,

because it's something extraordinary, because it's a miracle,

and a miracle can't be described in words. This critic admitted

that there were no words to write a critic's article.

I think that's a compliment for you.

How can you not remember her, a classic critic-intelligentsia-type?

Her name was Lera. Valeria..

I can't remember her middle name. A woman with an aristocratic manner.

Unfortunately I don't remember. I'd like to know a critic like that.

Too late now. I accidentally found out just today

that she's been dead for two years.

We weren't close friends. I don't even remember her last name.

But still, I'm somehow sad she's dead.

I'm very sad she's dead.

Why did you come, Mom?

I wanted to see how woe would break your heart.

I wanted to see that you suffer too,

that this world and everything that happens in it touches you too.

I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. As always you're in your strange world

and don't want to stick your head out to be a part of our suffering.

You've no business with us.

You came to see me suffer? Then you haven't wasted your time.

I'm suffering, Mom. You can watch me suffer. You haven't wasted your time.

Here, look at me. I'm suffering.

- I can't see that. - Maybe you're not looking close enough?

I'm looking carefully, but I can't see it.

- You don't want to see it. - I want to, I want to very much.

I'm looking carefully, but I don't see it.

- Where are you looking? - You see where I'm looking.

- In you're eyes. - And?

- I don't see anything there. - Strange.

But I don't see anything. Strange.

Look closer, more carefully!

- I'm looking as hard as I can! - And?

- Nope. - Look Mom, look for real, no faking it.

I'm looking as good as I can. I still can't see anything.

Look as hard and as carefully as you possibly can.

I can't see. I don't see.

I don't see you suffer, my daughter.

I don't notice it. I don't want to notice it.

I'm afraid of admitting it. I can't think about your suffering.

I have enough of my own. I'm sorry. Please, hear me, I am sorry!

My whole life I haven't seen your suffering, I didn't want to.

I came here to tell you about it. To ask you to forgive me.

Forgive me, please, I beg you, forgive me.

You are in the midst of a tragedy,

but I need the patient's spouse. We need a signature for some papers.

He felt sick and left. He'll be here tomorrow for sure and sign everything.

- Is she the victim's mother? - No, she is my mother.

- What is your relation to the victim? - She poisoned herself because of me.

I am her husband's lover.

I just wanted to know if you were a relative or not.

You could sign the papers in place of her husband.

- But you are not a relative. - I just told you who I am.

Got it. That's clear then.

But why is your mother crying? Nobody's dead.

She's been told about the death of a friend. That's why she's crying.

I'm very sorry, my condolences.

Maybe you'd like some valerian drops? I can bring them for you…

No, thank you. I'm okay now. We need to go, honey, come on.

We're on our way out. Don't worry.

Goodbye.

EVERY MOVE INSIDE THE DANCE

SENSED BY YOU CALM AND CAREFUL

INSIDE AND OUTSIDE

IN THE BEGINNING AND IN THE END

ON THE BOTTOM AND THE TOP OF SLEEP