Сталкер 2 серия / Stalker film 2

Part Two
S T A L K E R
Where are you?Come here!
Are you tired?
Judging by his tone of voice, he'll lecture us again.
May everything come true. May they believe.
And may they laugh at their own passions...
...for what they call passion
is not really the energy of the soul
but merely friction between the soul the outside world.
But, above all, may they believe in themselves
and become as helpless as children
for softness is great and strength is worthless.
When a man is born, he is soft and pliable.
When he dies, he is strong and hard.
When a tree grows, it is soft and pliable.
But when it is dry and hard, it dies.
Hardness and strength are death's companions.
Flexibility and softness are the embodiment of life.
That which has become hard shall not triumph.
Come here.
Soon we'll reach the dry tunnel.
- Are we already on our way? - Of course, why?
I thought you only wanted to show us something.
What about my rucksack?
I left it back there. I didn't know we're going.
Can't be helped.
- I've got to go back. - I can't go without my rucksack.
Nobody goes back the same way.
Forget your rucksack. What's in it? Diamonds?
The Room will give you all you desire.
It will snow you under with rucksacks.
Is it far to this Room?
Straight ahead, 200 meters, but there are no straight paths.
Don't let doubt creep in, Professor,
miracles are outside your experience.
Remember how Saint Peter nearly drowned.
Go, Writer.
- Where? - Down the ladder.
Professor, where are you?
- Here's the dry tunnel. - Call this dry?
It's a local joke. Usually we have to swim it.
Wait. Where's Professor?
He was following you all the time.
He must have strayed and lost his way.
He went back for his rucksack.
Now he'll never get out.
Shall we wait for him?
We can't, things change every minute.
We two must go on.
Look! What's all this?
I told you about it.
This is the Zone. We must hurry.
Here he is.
I'm very obliged to you.
How did you get here?
Most of the way I crawled on all fours.
How did you manage to overtake us?
Overtake you?
I just came back here for my rucksack.
Where has the metal nut come from?
My God! It's a trap.
Porcupine hung it here on purpose.
How did the Zone let us through?
Lord, I won't take another step until...
Enough.
We'll all rest here.
But keep away from that metal nut, in any case.
I didn't think Professor would get out.
I never know what sort of people I'm bringing in.
It's only in here that things become clear, when it's too late.
The main thing is
that Professor's rucksack and spare pants are safe.
Don't poke your nose into other guys' undies.
What's there to understand?
The psychological depths like the binomial theorem.
We're not in favour at the Institute.
We're refused funds for an expedition.
So let's fill the rucksack with manometers - shitometers,
slip into the Zone illegally
and check all the local miracles with algebra.
No one in the world has any conception about the Zone,
so it'll be a sensation.
Television, your lady fans getting hot flushes,
bearing laurel wreaths.
Then our Professor appears all in white
and declaims:
Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin.
Everyone gapes and choruses:
"Give him the Nobel prize!"
You bedraggled hack-writer, you home-grown psychologist.
Fit only to scribble graffiti in lavatories, you talentless clod.
That's feeble stuff.
Call that an insult?
You don't know how it's done.
All right. Suppose I'm after a Nobel prize.
What are you after?
Want to bestow on mankind the pearls of your bought inspiration?
I spit on mankind.
Only one man interests me, namely, myself.
Am I worth anything, or am I shit, like certain other people?
What if you find that's indeed what you are?
Know something, Mr. Einstein? I don't want to argue with you.
Truth is born in arguments, damn it.
Listen the Chingachook the Pathfinder.
You've brought so many people here.
Not so many as I would like.
Why did they come?
Happiness, more than anything.
Yes, but what kind of happiness?
People won't speak of their innermost thoughts.
Anyway, that concerns neither you nor me.
You've been lucky. All my life I have never seen
one happy person.
Nor have I. They return from the Room.
I guide then back and we never meet again.
Desires don't come true immediately, you know.
And you've never wanted to make use of this Room?
I'm fine as I am.
Listen, Professor.
As regards the bought inspiration.
Suppose I return to our God-forsaken city a genius.
But a man writes
because he's tormented, unsure of himself.
He has to keep proving his worth
to himself and to others.
But if I'm convinced I'm a genius
then why do I need to write?
Anyway, I must say we exist in order to...
Just leave me in peace.
I didn't sleep all last night.
Keep your complexes to yourself.
At any rate, all your technology,
all those blast furnaces, wheels
and suchlike hustle and bustle
so that people can work less and consume more,
they're all crutches, artificial limbs.
Mankind exists in order
to create works of art!
At least that's unselfish, compared with
all other human activities.
Great illusions! Images of absolute truth!
Are you listening to me, Professor?
What unselfishness are you talking about?
People keep dying of hunger. Have you lived on the moon?
And this is our intellectual aristocracy.
You're unable to think in abstract terms!
Why don't you teach me the meaning of life
and at the same time how to think?
It's useless.
You may be a professor, but you're ignorant.
And, lo, there was a great earthquake.
And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair,
and the moon became as blood...
And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth
even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs,
when she is shaken of a mighty wind.
And the heaven departed as a scroll,
And every mountain and island were moved out of their places
And the kings of the earth and the great men,
and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men
and every free man hid themselves in the dens,
and in the rocks of the mountains.
And said to the mountains and rocks:
Fall on us and hide us from the face of him
that sitteth on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb.
For the great day of his wrath is come
and who shall be able to stand?
Two of them went that same day
to a village called Emmaus.
And it came to pass
that Jesus himself drew near and went with them.
But they should not know him.
"What manner of communications are these
that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad?"
And one of them, named...
You awake?
You were talking about
the meaning of our life, the unselfishness of art.
Now take music...
It's connected least of all with reality.
Or, if connected, then it's without ideas,
it's merely empty sound without associations.
Nevertheless, music miraculously penetrates your very soul.
What chord in us responds to its harmonies
transforming it into a source of delight
uniting us and shattering us?
Why is all this necessary and, above all, for whom?
You'll reply: "For no one and no reason."
No...
I doubt that.
For everything in the final reckoning has a meaning.
A meaning and a reason.
You mean, we go there?
Unfortunately, there's no other way.
It's rather gloomy, eh, Professor?
I don't think I should go first here.
Big Snake never volunteers!
Obviously we'll have to draw lots.
Here I'd prefer a volunteer.
Got any matches?
The long match goes first.
The long one...
This time you were out of luck.
How about throwing a metal nut?
Sure.
Another one?
All right. I'm going.
Hurry, Professor.
There is some sort of door here.
Open the door and go in.
Me again? I'm to go in there.
You drew your lot!
You mustn't hang about.
What have you got there?
You can't go in there with a gun!
You'll be killed and you'll doom us. Remember the tanks.
Put it away, I beg you.
If anything happens, I can get you out, but like this...
Please, I beg you.
Who will you shoot at there?
Go! We've very little time.
There's water here.
Hold onto the rail.
Don't walk on, wait for us up there by the exit.
I hope you've nothing like that.
Like a pistol.
I've an ampoule, for an emergency.
- What kind of ampoule? - For protection. Poison.
You mean you came here to die?
That's how it is, just in case.
Back! Return, you suicide!
I told you to wait at the exit.
Don't move.
It's all because of your pipe.
You should have gone first.
He took the wrong turn from fright.
Another experiment.
Experiments, facts or truth, as a last resort.
But there's no such things as facts, especially here.
All this is someone's idiotic invention.
Can't you tell?
You, of course, want to know whose invention.
What good will it do you to know?
Whose conscience will be bothered by it? Mine?
I have no conscience, only nerves.
Some s.o.b. abuses you - you're hurt.
Another s.o.b. praises you - you're hurt again.
You put your heart and soul into work. They'll devour you.
They even devour filth in your soul.
They're all literate.
They all have voracious appetites.
They all keep crowding round
journalists, editors, critics,
a constant stream of women.
All of them clamouring for more!
What kind of writer am I,
if I detest writing?
If it's torture for me, a painful, shameful occupation,
something akin to extruding piles?
I used to think
my books helped some to become better,
but nobody needs me.
If I die, they'll devour someone else.
I wanted to I could change them but they've changed me
to fit their own image.
Once, the future was only a continuation of the present.
All its changes loomed somewhere beyond the horizon.
But now the future's a part of the present.
Are they prepared for this?
They don't want to know anything. All they do is gobble.
You certainly are lucky.
Now you'll live to be a hundred.
Why not eternally?
Like the Wandering Jew?
You must surely be a fine person.
Not that I doubted it.
You must have been through such agony.
This pipe is the most terrible part of the Zone.
How many people perished in this meat-grinder!
Porcupine sent his brother through instead of himself.
A brother who was so sensitive, so gifted.
Listen to this:
Now the summer is passed, it might never have been
It is warm in the sun, but it isn't enough.
All that I could attain, like a five-fingered leaf
Fell straight into my hand, but it isn't enough.
Neither evil not good has yet vanished in vain
It all burned and was light, but it isn't enough.
Life has been like a shield and has offered protection
I have been very lucky, but it isn't enough.
The leaves were not burned, the boughs were not broken
The day shines like glass, but it isn't enough.
Fine, isn't it? That's his poem.
Why are you evading things? "Fine", indeed!
It makes me sick to look at you.
You can't imagine how glad I am that we made it.
Your conduct was exemplary.
You're fine, honest men. I'm proud I was right.
So he's proud!
Fate! Zone! So I'm a fine fellow.
D'you think I didn't see
you offer me two long matches?
I'm sorry, but this louse
chose you as his favourite
and shoved me as a second-rate being into the pipe.
Meat-grinder! What a word!
What right have you to choose
who lives, who goes into the meat-grinder?
You made the choice.
One of two long matchsticks?
Forget the matches. Back by the metal nut,
the Zone let you through
to pass through the meat-grinder.
I never choose. It's terrible to make a wrong choice.
But someone has to go first.
No, this isn't the clinic.
Someone has to go first!
Don't touch it.
Laboratory Nine, please.
- I hope I haven't disturbed you. - What do you want?
Just a few words. You hid it. I found it
in the old building, Bunker Four.
I'll inform the security service.
Go on! Inform on me, write a denunciation.
Set my colleagues against me. But you're late.
I'm just two steps away from the place itself.
You realize this finishes you as a scientist?
Do you realize what happens if you dare?
Are you scaring me again?
Yes, all my life I've been scared. Even of you.
You don't scare me any more.
My God, you're not even Herostratus.
You just wanted to trip me up
because 20 years ago I slept with your wife.
You've finally managed to settle the score.
Go on, do your dirty work.
Don't dare hang up on me.
Prison isn't the worst thing that awaits you.
You'll never forgive yourself for this.
I can see you hanging
by your braces over a prison latrine.
What are you up to, Professor?
Imagine what happens when everyone believes in this Room?
And when they all come hurrying here?
It's only a question of time. Not today, but tomorrow.
And in thousands.
All these would-be emperors, grand inquisitors,
fuhrers of all shades.
The so-called saviours of mankind!
And not for money, nor inspiration,
but to remake the world.
I'll never bring that sort here.
You're not the only stalker in the world.
No stalkers know what ideas
the people you lead take away from here.
The number of motiveless crimes is growing.
Isn't that your work?
What about the military coups?
The Mafia in the governments, couldn't they be your clients?
What about the lasers,
the deadly bacteria
hidden away in safes for the time being?
Stop this sociological drivel!
Do you really believe in these fairy-tales?
Not in the good ones, but in the terrifying ones, yes.
No single individual can have
enough hatred or love
to reach all of mankind.
You desire money, a woman
or you want your boss to get run over.
But world domination... a just society...
the kingdom of heaven on earth.
Those aren't desires, but an ideology, actions, concepts.
Subconscious compassion cannot yet be realized
as a common instinctive desire.
You can't be happy at the expense of others' unhappiness.
I see you've decided to smash humanity
with some inconceivable boon.
Yet I'm completely calm.
I'm not worried about you, or myself, or mankind.
Nothing will come of it!
At best, you'll receive your Nobel prize
or more probably something quite inconceivable
which you haven't even thought about.
You dream of one thing and get something quit different.
Why did you do that?
A telephone... electricity...
Look, sleeping pills.
This sort isn't prescribed any more.
Shall we go there?
It'll soon be evening, too dark to get back.
I see very well that
all this poetry reciting and walking around
is a new, original way of apologizing.
I understand you.
Difficult childhood, environment...
But don't fool yourself.
I don't forgive you.
Don't please...
Professor, come here.
Just a moment, no need to rush.
I'm not rushing anywhere.
Don't get angry
but I have to tell you...
We're now standing
at the threshold...
This is the most important moment
in your life.
You must know that
your most cherished desire will come true here.
Your sincerest wish!
The desire that has made you suffer most.
There's no need to speak.
You must only
concentrate
and recall all your past life.
When a man thinks of the past, he becomes kinder.
But the main thing...
The main thing is...
You must believe.
Now go.
Who wants to go first?
Perhaps you?
Me? No, I don't want to.
I know it's not easy.
But don't worry, that will soon pass.
I'm not sure
it will.
Firstly, if I begin to recall my life
I shall hardly become kinder.
And then, can't you see how shameful all this is?
To humiliate yourself,
to snivel and to pray.
What's bad about praying?
That's your pride speaking.
Relax, you're just not ready. That happens.
Perhaps you'll go first?
Me?
Here we have the Professor's new invention.
A device for testing the human soul. A soul-meter.
It's just a bomb.
What?
- You're joking. - No.
It's just a 20-kiloton bomb.
What for?
I assembled it with some friends.
With some former colleagues.
This place, evidently, won't bring anyone happiness.
And if it falls into evil hands...
However, I really don't know now.
Once we had the idea
that the Zone should not be destroyed.
Even if it was a miracle,
it was a part of nature,
and, in a certain sense, it means hope.
They hid this bomb, but I've found it.
It's an old building, Bunker Four.
Obviously there must be a principle -
never to perform irreversible actions.
I understand that, I'm no maniac.
But as long as this canker
is open to any scoundrel
there can be neither rest nor respite.
Or something inside us won't permit it?
Poor guy, he's made himself a problem.
Give it to me.
You're cultured man.
- What's that for? - You hypocritical louse.
Why are you doing this to me?
He wants to destroy your hope.
There's nothing else left to people on earth.
This is the only place to come to
when all hope is gone.
You have to come here. Then why destroy hope?
Oh, shut up!
You don't give a damn about others.
You earn your money from our misery.
It's not even the money. You enjoy this.
Here you're tsar and God.
You louse, you decide who's to die and who's to live.
He chooses, he decides.
I know why Stalker himself never enters the Room.
What for? You're drunk with power out here.
With mystery! With authority!
That's not true.
A stalker is forbidden to enter the Room.
Especially for ulterior motives.
Remember Porcupine.
Yes, I'm a louse. I've never achieved anything
and I can't do anything here.
I have nothing to give my wife.
I can't have any friends
but don't deprive me of what's mine.
They took everything from me behind barbed wire.
Everything I have is here.
Here, in the Zone.
My happiness, my freedom, dignity.
They're all here.
The guys I bring are unhappy like me.
They've nothing left to hope for.
Nobody can help them.
But I, a louse, can.
I can weep for joy because I can help them.
I ask for nothing more.
I don't know...
Anyway, forgive me, but...
Well, you're simply one of God's fools.
You've no conception of what's happening here.
Why do you think Porcupine hanged himself?
He came for gain
and his brother died for money.
But why did he hang himself?
Why didn't he come back, not for money, but for his brother?
Is that how he repented?
He wanted to... Within a few days he hanged himself.
He realized that it is
one's most secret desire that is granted here.
What are you yelling about?
Here will come true
that which reflects the essence of your nature
it is within you, it governs you,
yet you are ignorant of it.
You've understood nothing, Greed didn't do Porcupine in.
He crawled on his knees to plead for his brother.
But he got a pile of money,
he couldn't get anything else.
Porcupine was given the essence of his true nature.
Conscience and soul-searching were all invented by the mind.
When he realized all that he hanged himself.
I won't go into your Room.
I don't want to pour the filth in my soul
on to anyone's head, even yours
and then hang myself as Porcupine did.
Better to stay grunting in my stinking private villa.
You're a bad judge of human nature
if you bring people like me into the Zone.
How did you learn that this miracle actually exists?
Who told you that desires really come true here?
Do you know one man who was made happy here?
Perhaps Porcupine?
And who told you about the Zone,
about Porcupine, about this Room?
He did.
I don't understand anything at all.
What's the sense in coming here?
It's so still.
Do you hear?
Suppose I chuck it all in...
get my wife and Monkey and come here to live
forever.
There's nobody here.
No one will hurt them.
You've come back.
Where did the dog come from?
It tagged along, don't chase it away.
Coming?
Monkey's waiting.
Anybody want a dog?
I've got five already.
So you like dogs?
That's good.
All right, let's go.
If you only knew how tired I am.
They still call themselves the intelligentsia!
- Writers! Scientists! - Calm down.
They don't believe in anything.
Their capacity for faith has atrophied...
- Stop it. - ...through lack of use.
Stop it. Come, lie down.
It's damp, you can't stay here.
My God, what kind people are they?
Calm down. It isn't their fault.
They should be pitied, not abused.
Their eyes are blank.
They're thinking how not to sell themselves cheap,
how to get paid for every breath they take.
They know they were born to "be someone",
to be an elite!
They say "You live but once."
How can such people believe in anything at all?
Relax now.
Try to get some sleep.
Nobody believes. Not only those two.
Whom shall I take there?
Oh Lord, the most terrible thing is
nobody needs that room
and all my efforts are in vain.
Why do you say that? Don't.
I'll never go there again with anyone.
Do you want me to go there with you?
Do you think I've nothing to ask for?
No...
- You mustn't. - Why?
No.
What if you fail, too?
You know, Mama was very opposed to it.
You've probably already guessed
that he's one of God's fools.
Everyone around here used to laugh at him.
He was such a wretched muddler.
Mama used to say:
"He's a stalker, a marked man, an eternal jailbird."
"Remember the kind of children stalkers have."
I didn't even argue.
I knew all about it.
That he was a marked man, jailbird. I knew about the kids.
Only what could I do?
I was sure I'd be happy with him.
I knew there'd be a lot of sorrow
but I'd rather know bitter-sweet happiness
than a grey, uneventful life.
Perhaps I invented all this later.
But when he came up to me and said: "Come with me",
I went. And I've never regretted it.
Never.
There was a lot of grief,
and fear, and pain
but I've never regretted it, nor envied anyone.
It's just fate.
It's life. It's us.
And if there were no sorrow in our lives,
it wouldn't be better.
It would be worse.
Because then there'd be no happiness, either.
And there'd be no hope.
I love those eyes of yours, my friend
Their sparkling, flashing, fiery wonder
When suddenly those lids ascend
Then lightning rips the sky asunder
You swiftly glance and there's an end
There's greater charm, though, to admire
When lowered are those eyes divine
In moments kissed by passion's fire
When through the downcast lashes shine
The smouldering embers of desire...
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