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a film by
Screenplay by B. METALNIKOV
Music arrangement by
Director of Photography
Production Designers
What is it, Pierre? What's the matter?
Oh, that music...
It's inside my head!
What music? There isn't any music.
Be quiet, Petya. Mama's with you.
Part One
Fourteen, fifteen,
sixteen, seventeen...
What are you waiting for?
You gotta stop wiggling about.
You're nothing but a bully, Agafon.
How does your master stand you?
You talk too much.
Sixteen, seventeen...
Wait! Didn't you hear that?
Someone's ringing.
- Don't you mix me up. Seventeen.
- You already said seventeen.
All right then, eighteen.
Good evening, professor.
Good evening.
He's crawling.
Where have you been? Sleeping?
You think anybody can sleep around
When you play cards,
you must play for money.
We haven't got any money... yet.
- What?
- Nothing.
Well, that's not bad. Bravo!
So, magician, how are your
They're coming along.
- And my concerto?
- It's going very well.
That's fine, work! Work!
And you'll find life has gone.
- Were you at the club?
- How on earth did you guess?
I'm just clever, that's all.
I'm not going to disturb you.
I just came by for a moment.
I still have to learn Beethoven.
I see you're in excellent spirits.
I'll tell you all about it later.
Well, show me what you've done.
Nikolai Grigorievich,
I probably can't play it because...
What is it, Kolia?
What's so funny?
You'll never guess what happened
at the club.
I'd been dealt three queens and
a knave.
I was bluffing.
And the prince was losing.
So I pushed my luck a little more,
and he was losing again.
Sorry for having distracted you.
Now I'm ready.
Nikolai Grigorievich!
I can't play this for you.
This piece needs your hands.
Very well.
Is that right?
Don't be ridiculous.
It's very nice.
- This won't do at all.
- Why?
It's much too difficult.
Why the divergent octaves, when
the parallel ones are much easier?
There... that's much simpler.
How can you speak of simplicity?
This is music!
But think of those who're going to
play this brilliant music of yours.
- But you just played it.
- I? Thank you very much.
Indeed I have, but that's me.
The others will break their fingers.
Petya, you must adapt it,
using parallel octaves.
I don't want to!
You don't want me to play
your first concerto?
No. I don't want to adapt it.
Well, I will not play it this way.
As you wish.
Someone else will play it.
Someone else? You'll never get
any other artist to play it.
It's not the way to write music
for the pianists.
My music is written for the public.
Your public as well.
Why must I compose music
like everybody else composes?
Whether it's good or bad,
I must write music my way.
The way of Tchaikovsky.
And who is Tchaikovsky?
Is he Brahms? Liszt?
Allow me to ask you,
what have you written?
A couple of operas
that were resounding failures?
A dozen pretty songs?
In Russia, every man in the street
writes pretty songs.
Well, why don't you say something?
All right, fine.
Let's be serious.
I'm worried about the reception
your concerto will have.
I don't need any more fame.
Come on, why don't you say something?
You don't want
to speak to me, Petya?
All right. But remember, you'll never
find an artist to play it.
I tell you this. Me, Rubinstein.
What a stupid place
to put a vase! Idiot!
No matter where I put it,
you would have broken it.
This is the way you should
compose, young man!
No rule says I have to.
I can write like this.
The head of the sugar factory,
Count Scepio says
that considering the amount of land
planted in sugar beets
you can again expect a deficit
of two hundred thousand rubles.
I've had enough of
this "Count Swindler".
The twelve in the corner.
You can

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