Солярис 2 серия / Solaris film 2

Uploaded by mosfilm on 23.05.2011

Get in.
- What about you? - In a minute.
I have to close the launch door.
Now... Everything in order?
Yes. Come quick, Chris!
You might have knocked.
I thought I heard you talking to someone.
All the more so.
Well, you handled that very neatly.
You won't die from it.
I hope you've been reasonable.
I mean drugs, poisons, barbiturates, eh?
If you came here to clown, you may as well leave.
Sometimes you clown without knowing it.
Haven't you had a try with a rope or hammer?
Haven't you thrown an inkpot at the devil, like Luther did?
That's how it is.
One, two...
Lock her in, press the button and it's over.
Don't panic next time.
Try to launch it from the corridor so you won't get burned.
- What was that? - Not for certain.
But we've established a theory at least.
Who was that?
She died ten years ago.
You saw the materialization of your conception of her.
- Her name was... - Hari.
The visits began after we started
experimenting with X-rays.
To test the Ocean, we initiated a concentrated surface sweep
using high intensity rays.
But this is--
You are fortunate. The woman is part of your past.
What if you had seen something you never knew,
something out of the recesses of your soul?
What are you trying to say?
The Ocean responded to our probe with one of its own,
directed to our brain, and extracted some bits of memory.
- Will she come back? - She will... and she won't.
- Hari-2. - Any number of doubles is possible.
Why didn't you tell me?
You wouldn't have believed me.
I got scared. I acted like...
Don't berate yourself. One Guibarian's enough.
It's about scrapping the station.
That's why they sent me.
Will you sign the report I'm going to make up?
What if she's a contact?
Night time is a blessing up here.
It reminds me of the earth.
Let's paste strips of paper on the air vents.
At night
you'll think leaves are rustling.
Guibarian's invention - the essence of simplicity -
I embraced wholeheartedly.
Sartorius made jibes at us but he has his own thing.
It's in the closet.
Try to get some rest.
We can meet in the library later.
I've prepared a list of books for you.
Is that you, Snaut?
Where are you?
Come here.
- It's so dark. - Come, don't be afraid.
The door opens the other way.
Oh, Chris.
I'll be right back.
I saw you weren't here and I got scared.
Hello, Chris.
Speak louder. What are you doing now?
Sartorius wants to see us in the lab.
Are you coming?
I'll see what I can do.
Chris, what's with me?
Is it epilepsy?
This is my wife.
- You are late. - I couldn't get any sooner.
Oh how beautiful! Are they yours?
No, they're Snaut's.
As far as I understand, they are structured...
- Let's call them Visitors. - Very well.
Whereas our structure is atomically integrated,
theirs is based on neutrinos.
But neutrino systems lack stability.
I guess Solaris' magnetic field stabilizes them.
You have an excellent sample.
It's my wife!
I'm delighted.
Make your wife's blood test.
Why should I?
That'll sober you up somewhat.
What do you think...
- Snaut? - Oh, cut it...
I used acid to burn the blood but it regenerates.
Self-regeneration? Well, what do you know!
In a word, immortality. Faust's problem.
May I...
Cotton's not needed.
Are you qualified to perform an autopsy?
- I've told you she's my wife. - It's more humane
to experiment on them than on our earth's rabbits.
Don't you agree?
It'd be like cutting off my leg.
D'you feel pain when you broke through the door?
Pain? Of course.
If I ever catch you attempting anything on her...
- You are fortunate. - Fortunate?
Your attitude is absurd, but at least you've established
an emotional contact with them through her.
- What? Envious? - Perhaps I am envious.
No, there's no envy in you, nor guilt.
- Right. - The guilt is mine.
What guilt?
When you turn into a hopeless cripple, a basket case,
we'll be emptying your bed-pot.
- Toward whom are you guilty? - You, among others.
Dad shot most of it. I did some bits.
I don't know my own self.
Don't remember.
I close my eyes and can't remember my face. Can you?
- Do you know yourself? - Yes, all humans do.
That woman in the fur coat, how she hated me!
It's your imagination.
She died long ago, before we ever met.
Why are you trying to make a fool of me?
I remember her very well.
I came over for tea, she told me to leave.
So I left at once. I remember it very well.
What happened after that?
I went away.
And that was the last time I saw you.
Where did you go?
To another city.
- Why? - I was transferred.
Why didn't you take me with you?
You refused to come.
Yes, now I remember.
I was passing by and thought you were up.
What happened?
The rate of regeneration has slowed,
we can be rid of Them for 2-3 hours.
And you come at night to tell me about it?
I'll tell you why I came.
We think that since the Ocean
extracts Visitors from us during our sleep, in might be
in our interest to communicate our waking thoughts to it.
- How? - By X-rays.
Perhaps, it will spare us all these apparitions.
More of your idiotic preaching on the greatness of science?
We'll integrate the beam with the brainwaves of one of us.
One of us means me, of course?
Transcripts of all my thoughts!
What if I'd want her to die or disappear?
Give it all to that jelly.
It's already invaded my soul.
We've no time.
Sartorius has another project, involving annihilators.
They destroy only neutrino systems.
What? Blackmail?
It was my idea about the encephalogram.
Oh well, forget it.
Tomorrow is my birthday. You are invited.
- You just want us to patch it up. - Yes, I do.
Not so loud. She's sleeping.
So she knows how to sleep.
This has to end badly.
- What do you propose? - Nothing.
See you tomorrow in the library.
We'll set up the table there.
At least there are no windows.
Now let's go and see Sartorius.
Suppose she follows us?
Don't lock the door.
The door?
It's a mirage.
I'll be right back.
Where are you going?
Forgive me! Forgive me!
Why aren't you sleeping?
- You don't love me. - Stop it, Hari.
- We need to talk. - About what?
Won't you help me understand where I came from?
- I think you know. - What are you saying?
Please let me finish.
If you know
and you can't tell me now,
perhaps you will one day, huh?
Oh, come on.
There's nothing to understand.
You won't tell,
you're afraid to.
So I'll tell you.
I am not Hari.
Hari is dead.
She took poison.
And I am someone else.
Who told you this?
- Sartorius. - Last night!
I wish you had told me.
Oh God! What's the difference?
How did you go on living?
- Were you in love with someone? - I don't know.
- Did you ever think of me? - Sometimes, yes.
Not always.
Whenever I felt miserable.
You know
they are playing a game.
And the more they play,
the worse it will be - for you.
Only for you.
How can I help you?
Tell me.
The girl, the other one...
What happened to her?
We'd quarreled.
We often used to quarrel.
I packed my things and left.
She didn't say it in so many words. When you've lived
with a person long enough, words are unnecessary.
I was sure those were just words but then I remembered
I had left
some poison in the fridge.
I brought it from the lab and told her how it works.
I got real scared.
I wanted to see her but then thought
it would look like I had taken her words seriously.
On the third day I could wait no longer.
When I came she was already dead.
I saw a trace of a shot on her arm.
This one?
Why did she do it?
I guess she felt I didn't really love her.
But I love you.
- Chris... - What?
I love you.
Get some sleep.
I tried but I can't.
It's not a sleep really.
A sleep within a sleep.
It's not only inside me. It comes from far away.
it's a kind of sleep.
I wonder what's keeping Snaut.
- Why? - Perhaps he has Visitors.
Oh... everybody's here.
You're exactly an hour and a half late.
What's that?
Hm... Rubbish.
And where's...
They come at night.
And man needs nights for sleeping.
That's our problem:
man has lost the gift of sleep.
Here. You'd better read it.
I'm a bit overwrought.
Senior, I know one thing.
When I sleep, I know no fear, no hope,
no work, no blessing.
Praise be to the gentle sleep creator.
That currency used by all, these universal scales
equalizing shepherd and king, fool and scholar.
Sound sleep has one defect,
it smacks too much of death.
Never in your life, Sancho, have you pronounced a more gracious speech.
That's very nice, but perhaps you'll let me say a few words.
Let's drink to Snaut.
To his courage.
To his devotion to duty! To science and to Snaut!
In this situation both mediocrity and genius
are equally helpless.
Let me tell you,
we do not want to conquer any cosmos.
We want to expand the earth as far as the cosmos.
We don't know what to do with other worlds,
we don't want other worlds.
Only a mirror.
We're trying hard to make contact. We're doomed to failure.
We're ridiculous
pursuing goals we fear -
and which we really don't need.
Man needs man!
Drink to Guibarian!
In memory of him. Though what he did was out of fear.
No! Guibarian was not afraid.
There are worse things.
He saw no way out.
He thought it was happening only to him.
Why all this talk?
Your heart-rending moaning is quasi-Dostoyevsky, nothing more.
- Who are you to judge us? - I know why I'm here.
I'm here to work.
Nature created man so he might gain knowledge.
Marching toward truth man is condemned to knowledge.
The rest is of no consequence.
One question, my dear colleague.
Why did you come here?
What a question!
It's not work surely.
Except for your tryst with your ex nothing seems to interest you.
You're lolling in bed out of ideological considerations
thinking that you do your job well.
You've lost touch with reality.
- You're plain lazy. - Stop it.
Everything has to end someday. Let's drink to Guibarian.
Not to Guibarian. To Man!
Are you suggesting Guibarian wasn't a man?
Stop it, Chris. All we need is to begin quarreling.
It's my birthday after all.
- Today is my day. - Certainly.
But frankly,
of the three of you Chris seems to follow what he believes in.
In these inhuman conditions he alone acts human.
You two pretend that your so-called Visitors -
is this what you call us? - are a kind of pest,
an exterior enemy.
But they are part of you, your conscience.
Chris loves me.
Maybe not me...
Perhaps he needs me as a defense against himself.
He needs the living me...
It doesn't matter why humans love, it's different for everyone.
And it isn't Chris.
It's you. Oh how I loathe you!
- I must ask you - - No. I'm a woman...
You're not even a human being! You must understand -
you are still capable of understanding.
There's no Hari. She is dead.
You're only a reproduction.
A mechanical repletion of the form! A copy!
A matrix!
Perhaps, I am.
But I...
I am becoming a human being.
I can feel as deeply as you.
Believe me.
I already can live without him.
I love him.
I'm a human being!
You are so cruel.
Get up!
Oh my dear!
It's so easy.
Why should we fight?
We lose our dignity and humanity.
You're very human, each in your own way.
That's why you quarrel.
I hope I'm not in the way.
You're a good guy
only you look awful.
I'm worn out.
Could you help me?
So what?
After all, can't a man who'd give up his life
for this damned contact to see
what this is all about get drunk?
He has a moral right.
Do you believe in our mission, Kelvin?
I'll stay up a while. I'm not going to sleep.
I'll go and see Faust.
In his laboratory our Faust-Sartorius
is trying to get a remedy for immortality.
Look, let's open the bottom hatches
and yell down.
D'you think It'd hear?
Only who shall we call to?
Maybe we should birch It.
Or, better still, pray to It. Hey, what's up?
I closed the door to the library. She's alone there.
Go to her. I feel a lot better.
The station changes orbit soon.
At 17:00
there'll be 30 seconds of a weightless flight.
Don't forget.
Sorry, honey, I was lost in my thoughts.
Something wrong?
No, no.
Nothing's wrong.
It's okay.
She took liquid oxygen.
She was desperate.
The worst is yet to come.
The more she's with you, the more human she becomes.
- You should act like Sartorius. - Thanks for the advice.
What are you going to do?
Wait until she comes back.
Then what? You'll leave the station?
She can live only here, and you know that.
What can I do?
- I love her. - Love whom? Her?
Or the rocket girl?
We might change the orbit and she can come anytime.
Don't convert a scientific quest into a love story.
I felt she'd come to a bad end.
You must help her.
Horrifying, isn't it.
I can't get used to all these resurrections.
Is it me?
It's not me.
It's me... Not Hari.
And you...
And you... You're not...
- Don't talk, Hari. - I'm not Hari.
All right, all right.
Maybe the Ocean sent you to torture me.
Or as a favor.
Who cares about whys? You are more to me
than all scientific truths that have ever existed.
- Do I look very much like her? - No.
You used to.
Now it's you who's Hari.
Tell me...
Tell me.
Do you think
I'm ugly now?
- You do. - No, you're wrong.
- Liar! - I'm not. Stop it.
- You can't stand looking at me. - Stop it.
Don't touch me.
I love you.
Hari, what's with you?
I'll not return to the Earth.
We'll live here, on the station.
You know...
I'm scared.
Its activity's increasing.
Your encephalogram did the trick.
we show pity
we empty our souls.
Perhaps you are right.
Suffering makes life
seem grey and sad.
But I don't believe...
No, I don't...
What's not indispensable, they say,
harms our life. No, it doesn't.
Of course it doesn't.
Remember Tolstoy?
He suffered as he couldn't love mankind in totality.
How much time has passed since then?
I can't make out... Help me.
Suppose I love you.
Love is a feeling you can experience
but not explain.
One can explain the idea of love
but you love that which you can lose.
Yourself... A woman... Your country.
Until today, humanity, the Earth
had no way of reaching love. See what I mean?
There are so few of us, a few million at the most.
Perhaps the reason we are here is to learn
to perceive human beings as a reason to love.
He's feverish.
How did Guibarian die?
You still haven't told me.
I'll tell you later.
Guibarian didn't die out of fear.
He died out of shame. Shame, the feeling
that'll save humankind.
Mama, I...
I'm two hours late.
I know.
How was the trip?
A bit tiring.
Otherwise it was okay.
Good heavens!
It's running slow again. I'll set it right.
You have lots of time.
I don't know why,
but I...
I don't remember your face.
You don't look well.
Are you happy?
Happiness is an obsolete idea.
Oh. That's too bad.
I feel so lonely now.
Why are you hurting us?
What were you waiting for?
Why didn't you phone us?
You seem to lead a strange life.
You're sloppy, you don't take care of yourself.
How'd you get into this state?
What's this?
Wait, I'll be back.
Feeling better now?
Where's Hari?
What's this?
There's no more Hari.
Chris, I'm sorry I had to deceive you
but I had no choice.
This is the only solution for both of us.
I asked them to do it.
Don't blame them.
She did it for you.
Later, Chris. You must rest now.
How was it...
Annihilation. An explosion of light, a burst of wind.
We quarreled so often those last days.
why are we being tortured that way?
I think it's because
we've lost sense of the cosmic.
Ancient man had no such problem.
He'd have never questioned the Cosmos: Why? What for?
Remember the myth of Sisiphus?
Since we sent your encephalogram,
not a single Visitor has come.
Strange things are happening to the Ocean.
Islands are forming on Its surface.
At first one, then a few more.
Are you telling me It took us in?
Not in one stroke. Hardly.
But at least we can hope now.
- How old are you? - 52. Why?
Have you been here long?
Haven't you seen my file?
I have.
But I was wondering.
After so many years on the station,
do you still feel as clearly your link with the earth's life?
You really do ask personal questions.
I suppose next you'll ask me about the meaning of life.
Let's not be ironical.
The question was banal.
When a man is happy, the meaning of life
and other 'eternal' themes rarely interest him.
These questions should be asked at the end of one's life.
Who knows when your life will end?
Nobody is sure, that's why we are racing.
Don't be in a hurry. The happiest guys are those
who never bother asking those cursed questions.
We question life to seek out some meaning.
Yet all simple human truths have their own mystery.
The mystery of happiness,
death, love.
Perhaps you're right. But I can't help thinking about it.
And thinking about it is
like knowing the day of your death.
Not knowing this day is what makes us immortal.
Anyway, my mission is finished.
What next? Back to the Earth?
Life'll return to normal. I'll have new ideas, new friends,
but I'll never be able to get involved deeply.
Do I have a right to miss the chance -
even if imaginary - to come into contact with the Ocean
to which my race is striving to throw a thread of understanding?
Shall I stay here?
Among the things and objects both of us touched
and which still remember our breathing.
But for what purpose?
Hoping that she'll return?
But I don't have this hope.
The only thing left for me is wait.
For what? I don't know.
New miracles?
No. I'm fine.
I guess it's time for you to return to the Earth.
You think so?
Translated by Raisa Svirina