Сталкер 1 серия / Stalker film 1

Uploaded by mosfilm on 20.06.2011

Mosfilm Studios
Second Artists' Association
Nikolai GRINKO
in the film
Written by Arkady Boris STRUGATSKY
Adapted from the novel "Roadside Picnic"
Directed by Andrei TARKOVSKY
Photography by Alexander KNYAZHINSKY
Design - Andrei TARKOVSKY
Music by Eduard ARTEMYEV
Poems by F.I.TIUTCHEV and Arseny TARKOVSKY
Sound - V.SHARUN
"What was it? A meteorite,
or a visitation from outer space?
Whatever it was, in our small land appeared
a miracle of miracles: the Zone
We sent in troops. None returned
Then we surrounded the Zone with police cordons
We did right... although I'm not sure
From an interview with Nobel prize-winner
Professor Wallace to correspondent RAI."
Why did you take my watch?
Where are you going?
You gave me your word, I believe you.
You won't consider yourself, but what about us?
Think about your daughter.
She's not even used to you yet,
and you're going back to your old ways.
You've turned me into an old hag.
Quiet. You'll wake up Monkey.
I can't spend my life waiting for you. I'll die.
You intended to do some proper work.
They promised you a decent, normal job.
I'll be back soon.
You'll be back in jail soon.
And you'll have nothing.
Neither the Zone nor anything.
And in this time I'll be dead.
"Jail!" But I'm imprisoned everywhere.
- I won't let you go. - Let me go.
Go on, then, and may you rot there!
I curse the day I met you, you scum!
God cursed you by sending you such a child.
He cursed me because of you, you scoundrel!
My dear, the world is so unutterably boring.
There's no telepathy, no ghosts,
no flying saucers - they can't exist.
The world is ruled by cast-iron laws.
These laws are not broken.
They just can't be broken.
Don't hope for flying saucers.
But what about the Bermuda triangle?
There is no Bermuda triangle.
There's triangle ABC,
which equals triangle A1B1C1.
Oh, how dreadfully tedious.
In the Middle Ages, life was interesting.
Every house had its goblin, each church had God.
People were young. Now every fourth person is old.
It's boring, my angel.
But you said that the Zone is
the product of a super-civilization,
which is probably also boring, again with laws and triangles.
But without goblins and, of course, without any God.
Because if there is a God, he'll be that very triangle.
Well, then I simply don't know.
It's for me. Goodbye, dear friend.
This brave lady kindly agreed to go with us.
Her name is...
Excuse me, what is your name?
Are you really a stalker?
I'll explain everything.
Come with me.
So you've been drinking?
I simply had a drink, as half humanity does.
Including women and children.
But I just had a drink.
Drink. It's still early.
How about one for the road?
- Take it away. - Of course, the Prohibition law.
"Alcohol is the scourge of mankind."
Let's drink beer then.
Is he coming with us?
Don't worry, he'll sober up. He needs to go there, too.
- Are you really a professor? - If you wish.
In that case, permit me to introduce myself. My name's...
His name's Writer.
And what's my name?
You're Professor.
Ah, of course, I'm a writer,
so naturally everyone calls me Writer.
- What do you write about? - About my readers.
No sense in writing about anything else.
There's no sense in writing about anything.
What are you? A chemist?
I'd say a physicist.
That's probably tedious, too. Searching for truth.
You dig here and there.
Right. The nucleus consist of protons.
That's a good dig.
Triangle ABC equals triangle A1B1C1.
But with me it's a different matter.
I dig for truth, but while I do,
something happens to it.
The truth changes a heap of... I won't say what.
Say there's some antique pot in a museum.
In its time it was a waste-bin...
...but now it arouses admiration
for its simplicity of line and unique form.
And everyone oohs and ahs about it.
Suddenly, it turns out not to be antique at all.
It was planted by some joker, for a giggle.
The sounds of admiration die away. Some connoisseurs!
And you keep thinking about this?
I seldom think. It's bad for me.
it's impossible to write and keep thinking
about success or failure.
But on the other hand, if my books aren't read in 100 years,
why bother to write?
Tell me, why did you get involved in this business?
Well, in a sense, I'm a scientist.
What's in it for you?
A fashionable author,
with women draped all over you.
I've lost my inspiration.
I'm going to beg for some.
So you've exhausted your talent?
Yes... in a way.
Can you hear? That's our train.
- Did you take the hood off? - Yes.
If I don't come back, tell my wife.
Damn! I forgot to buy cigarettes.
Don't go back.
You're all like that.
You believe any superstitious rubbish.
I'll have to ration these.
Are you really a scientist?
Get down!
Keep still!
See if anyone's there.
Hurry, for God's sake!
There's nobody here.
Go to the other door.
Get going, Writer.
Keep a lookout, please.
Did you bring the petrol can?
Yes, it's full.
What I said about going there...
It's all lies. I don't give damn for inspiration...
...but how can I put a name to what I want?
How am I to know
I don't want what I want
or that I really don't want what I don't want?
These are intangibles the moment you name them
their meaning evaporates like jellyfish in the sun.
My consciousness wants triumph of vegetarianism.
My subconscious longs for a juicy steak.
So what do I want?
I want world supremacy, at the very least.
Why do they need a diesel in the Zone?
It won't go beyond the military post.
They don't venture in there.
Listen, go and see if there's a railcar there.
- What railcar? - Hurry up!
Get back, I'll go.
Bring the can.
Leave your rucksack, it's in the way.
I see you're traveling light.
If anyone's hit, don't cry out.
If they spot you, they'll kill you.
When everything's quiet, crawl back to the post.
They'll pick you up later.
Won't they come after us?
No, they're scared to death of it.
Of what?
Here we are... home at last.
How still it is.
It's the quietest place in the world.
It's so beautiful. There's no one here.
We're here.
Well, three men can't foul it up in one day.
Why can't we? Sure we can.
Strange, the flowers don't smell.
It stinks like a swamp.
No, that's the river.
There used to be flowerbeds here,
but Porcupine stamped them out.
Yet their scent lingered on for many years.
Why did he stamp them out?
I don't know.
I asked him why
and he said: "One day you'll understand."
I think he simply began to hate the Zone.
Is Porcupine his real name?
No, a nickname. Like yours.
For years he brought people to the Zone, and nobody could stop him.
He was my teacher. He opened my eyes.
They didn't call him Porcupine then, just Teacher.
Then something happened to him, something broke inside him...
...though I think he was simply punished.
help me, tie the bandages to these metal nuts.
I'll just take a walk.
But be careful when you walk here.
Where did he go?
Perhaps he just wants to be alone.
Why? Even with three of us here, I feel uneasy.
He's back in the Zone. Remember he's a stalker.
What of it?
Well, you see, stalking is a kind of vocation.
I imagined stalkers to be different.
Like Leather Stocking, or Chingachook, or Big Snake.
Our stalker's biography is more terrifying.
He was in jail many times and here he was crippled.
His daughter is a mutant, a "Zone victim."
They say she has no legs.
What did he mean about Porcupine?
What did he mean by: "he was punished"?
One fine day, Porcupine returned from here
and suddenly became rich,
incredibly rich.
You call that a punishment?
Within a week he had hanged himself.
- Why? - Quiet!
What is it?
About twenty years ago,
they say a meteorite fell here.
It razed the settlement.
They searched for it,
but they found nothing, of course.
Why "of course"?
Then people began to vanish.
Finally it was decided that this meteorite
was not quite a meteorite.
So, for a start...
they put barbed wire to stop
the inquisitive taking risk.
Then rumours began
that somewhere in the Zone is a place
where desires come true.
Well, naturally, they started to guard the Zone like a treasure
for who knows what desires a person might have?
What was it, if it wasn't a meteorite?
Nobody knows.
But what do you think it was?
It could have been anything.
A message to mankind, as a colleague of mine says.
Or a gift.
Some gift!
Why would they want to do that?
To make us happy.
The flowers are blooming again, but they've no scent.
Forgive me for leaving you here, but it was too early to go on.
Did you hear that?
Maybe there are people living here.
You told me the story yourself.
Those travelers who were here when the Zone appeared.
There's no one in the Zone. There can't be.
Are we ready to start?
How shall we get back?
- Here, nobody returns. - What do you mean?
We'll proceed as agreed.
Each time I'll indicate the direction.
It's dangerous to veer from it.
Keep the last pole in sight.
You go first, Professor.
Now you.
Try to keep to his tracks.
Lord! Where's...
Did they remain here? The people?
Nobody knows.
I only recall them leaving from our station
to come here to the Zone. I was still a kid then.
Everyone thought someone wanted to conquer us.
Go on, Professor.
Now you, Writer.
The Room is there.
We go this way.
Are you trying to make it seem hard? It's only a stone's throw.
Yes, but you need a very long arm.
We don't have it.
Leave it! Don't!
Don't touch it!
I said don't touch it!
Are you crazy?
I said this wasn't the place for a stroll.
The Zone demands respect, otherwise it'll punish you.
Don't try anything like that again.
- I did ask you not to. - Do we go this way?
Yes, and to the left. But we don't go straight here.
We make a detour.
Straight paths aren't shortest here,
the farther we go, the less risk.
Is it fatal to go ahead?
- It's dangerous. - Is the detour less dangerous?
It's not but they don't take this route.
You and your routes!
Why can't we go straight ahead?
It's risky here, and risky there.
You know your attitude to this is very irresponsible.
I'm fed up with your nuts and bandages.
I'm going this way.
- The man's crazy. - And you know who you are...
May I?
The wind is rising.
Do you feel it? The grass...
Well, all the more so...
What do you mean?
- Hold it. - Take your hands off me!
All right.
Then let Professor be my witness.
You're going there of your own free will.
Anything else?
Nothing. Go.
And I hope to God you're lucky.
Listen, if you suddenly notice something
or feel something strange,
turn right back.
Just don't throw a lump of iron at my head.
Stop! Don't move!
Why did you stop him?
I thought you did.
Why did you stop me?
- I didn't stop you. - Who did then?
What the hell!
You're a fine one, Mr. Shakespeare.
Afraid to advance, ashamed to retreat.
So you order yourself to stop, in a false voice.
Fear's sobered you up.
- What? - Shut up!
- Why'd you empty my bottle? - Shut up!
The Zone is
a very complex maze of traps.
All of them are death traps.
I don't know what happens without of humans
but as soon as humans appear,
everything begins to move.
Former traps disappear, new ones appear.
Safe ways become impassable
and the way becomes now easy,
now confused beyond words.
This is the Zone.
It might seem capricious
but at each moment it's just as
we've made it by our state of mind.
I won't hide the fact
that some people turned back half-way.
Some perished on the threshold of the Room.
But everything that happens here depends on us.
So the Zone lets the good through and kills the evil?
I think it lets those through
who've lost all hope,
not good or bad, but the wretched.
But even the most wretched will perish
if they don't know how to behave here.
You're lucky. The Zone warned you.
If you don't mind, I'll wait here
till you come back... happy men.
That's impossible.
I've got sandwiches and a thermos.
Without me, you won't survive an hour.
What's more, nobody returns the same way.
All the same, I'd prefer...
Then we'll go back immediately.
I'll refund your money minus a small sum
for my trouble.
Sobered up, Professor?
All right. Toss the metal nut.