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THE WISHING TREE
Scenes from the life of
a pre-Revolutionary Georgian village
Based upon short stories
by Georgy Leonidze
Screenplay by Revaz Inanishvili
Tengiz Abuladze
Directed by
Tengiz Abuladze
Director of Photography
Lomer Akhvlediani
Production Designer
Revaz Mirzashvili
Music by Bidzina Kvernadze
Yakov Bobokhidze
Text translated into Russian and
narrated by poet Mikhail Kvlividze
Marita - L. Kavzharadze, Gedya -
S. Dzhachvliani, Shete - Z. Kolelishvili
Tsitsikore - K. Daushvili, Pupala -
S. Chiaureli, loram - K. Kavsadze
Bumbula - E. Mandzhgaladze
Elioz - O. Megvinetukhutsesi
Okhrokhine - R. Chkhikvadze
Chachika - G. Gegechkori, Maradiya -
S. Takaishvili, Batula - G. Khobua
Tagriya - D. Gaganidze
Koriya - B. Tsipuriya
Ninutsa - I. Khobua, Ninore -
M. Makhviladze, Nargiza - T. Tuayeva
Slap-Lad - D. Abashidze
Mother of Shete - T. Burbutashvili
Order of Lenin "Georgia-Film"
Studio, 1976
Gedya, your horse is dying
on the hillside.
Tetra, what's the matter?
It's me, Gedya.
Gedya. Don't you recognize me?
Hurry up!
- We'd better not torture his blood.
- Save him, Uncle Tsitsikore.
No one can help him anymore.
Get up, Gedya.
Get up, boy.
I told you many times:
Don't graze cattle on the hillside.
See? Even horses die now.
The grass here is poisonous.
Why poisonous?
In olden times there had been great
battles here.
Lots of enemies were laid down.
The hostile blood's still taking its
revenge.
Still warring with us.
Just look at this loafer!
Hey, you stupid, you sleeping again?
What is it? What happened?
The deceased are missing you
in the other world,
and you're idling away your life
here.
Why such unfairness?
Our glorious Tsar Irakly
is lying in his grave,
and you're rotting alive here.
What a nuisance! As soon as I
doze off, he is here.
Standing over me like a guard
and cursing.
I can't make this world better
anyway.
Why not have an extra minute of sleep?
Who ever heard of it -
fencing off a pasture?
Cattle has been grazing here for
years and nothing ever happened.
Hostile blood - to think of such
a thing!
So what if Tsitsikore's ordered that?
He's not a god, is he?
Be quiet, or he may hear you.
We can neither drink nor sleep
without his permission.
Who appointed him our boss?
Have you gone mad?
Ragamuffins! Slaves!
Dimwits and blockheads!
Here!
Do you see this?
And I won't even get my stomach upset.
God forbid if you get it upset, too.
You wretched beggars!
Village rot! Philistines!
Please help me, Uncle Tsitsikore,
slap my boy.
The fortune-teller said
he won't get well
until a man from a noble family
slaps him.
Why me?
Take him to town.
There're many noble people there.
Why me? Take him to town.
You're from a noble family, too.
Slap him once.
The man should be from a noble
family, and who am I?
You're our father and teacher.
Slap him.
The boy's sick, he won't grow.
Him not growing?
Of course not. His grandfather was
twice as big.
Slap the boy. I'm not asking you
to do it for free.
I've brought you a present.
You see, people,
nobody got sick in olden times,
and now everyone's going mad.
This antichrist has his pockets
full of bombs.
Good-for-nothings!
Loafers and idiots!
May this life be damned!
Ioram, in which pocket do you have
bombs?
People say you make them at night.
Is it true?
Listen to me, children,
and remember.
The sun of Georgia has fallen down
into the deep of the Black sea.
O my poor Motherland!
Battered by storms,
torn by ravens,
a bleeding, wounded she-eagle,
a lifeless snow leopard...
My Motherland is perishing.
I put my trust in You, God.
Give us strength for a revival.
See your rebirth, Georgia!
The time of bookish dreamers has
passed.
Today we need to act!
Do not lose hope.
We shall still have another David
the Builder,
the great Rustaveli and
the sun-faced Tamar.
See your rebirth, Georgia!
Let's take a vow, children...
Those rascals have run away.
O, "Prince

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