EndMOSFILM
First Artists' Association
Ilya Ilyich, why are you making
so much noise?
- You'll wake up your mama.
- Mama is here!
- When will Mama be up?
- Soon.
And when did she arrive?
Late at night, my dear.
You were already asleep.
I'll go and look
if she's up.
Why are you so fidgety,
my dear?
You haven't seen your mama just one
day, and you're eating your heart out.
Why is it light there, and dark
here, nurse?
And presently it will be light here
as well?
It's because the sun is going
to meet the moon,
but cannot see it
and frowns.
Ilya Ilyich,
why are you standing here?
You'll wake up your mama.
Mama is back!
Mama is here!
SEVERAL DAYS FROM THE LIFE
OF I.I. OBLOMOV
Based upon the novel "Oblomov"
by I.A. Goncharov
Screenplay by
A. ADABASHIAN, N. MIKHALKOV
Directed by
Nikita MIKHALKOV
Director of Photography
Pavel LEBESHEV
Production Designers:
Alexander ADABASHIAN
Alexander SAMULEKIN
Music by E. ARTEMYEV
Sound by B. BOBROVSKY
English Subtitles by
Tatiana Kameneva
Starring
Ilya Ilyich Oblomov
Oleg TABAKOV
Andrei Ivanovich Stolz
Yuri BOGATYRYOV
Zakhar
Andrei POPOV
Olga
Yelena SOLOVEY
Alexeyev
Avangard LEONTYEV
Narrated by
A. ROMASHIN
Ilya Ilyich Oblomov was lying in bed
in his flat in Petersburg,
in Gorokhovaya Street,
in one of the big houses
that had almost as many inhabitants
as a whole country town.
Lying down was not for Ilya Ilyich
either a necessity
as it is for a sick man,
or an occasional need as it is
for a tired person,
or a pleasure as it is for a sluggard:
It was his normal state.
Oblomov, a gentleman by birth
and a collegiate secretary by rank,
came to live in Petersburg
twelve years ago.
He was young then,
he was still full of plans,
expecting a great deal both from fate
and from himself.
But days and years passed by,
he gave up Government service,
the soft down on his chin
turned into stiff bristles,
his waist broadened,
his hair had begun to come out,
he turned thirty,
and he had not advanced a step
in any direction,
and was still standing at the same
point as ten years before.
Zakhar!
Zakhar!
Where are you off to?
You were not saying anything.
You see I'm worried,
so you must wait.
- Find the letter.
- Which letter?
You took it from the postman.
A dirty letter.
How should I know where you put it?
You never know anything.
Look in the waste-paper basket. Or
perhaps it has fallen behind the sofa.
The back of the sofa
has not been mended yet.
Why don't you send for the carpenter?
It was you who broke it.
- It broke of itself.
- I see.
- Have you found it?
- Here are some letters.
No, that's not it.
Very well, go. I will look for it
myself when I get up.
You do keep the place tidy!
The dust, the dirt!
My goodness!
You don't do anything!
There, everything is swept and tidied
as for a wedding.
What more do you want?
- And what's this, by the table?
- Well, I might take this away.
Only this!
And what about the dust, the cobwebs?
Sometimes I see a bedbug on the wall,
too.
- I have fleas as well.
- It's disgusting!
It's no good your laughing, Zakhar,
you had better set to work and clean
the place.
Is my water ready?
Ages ago.
Why don't you get up?
The landlord said again that we must
move. They want the flat.
Don't you dare to mention the flat to
me. I have forbidden you already.
You had better go to the butcher.
No, he won't give us any more
credit.
- How much do we owe him?
- Eighty six rubles.
Have you gone off your head?
We haven't paid him for three months.
Are you a cow to have munched
so much?
You might write to the landlord, sir,
perhaps he would not disturb you then.
All right, go to the butcher, and I'll
think about it and write a letter.
I'm going.
Ilya Ilyich was much perturbed.
After his father and mother died,
he became the owner of 350 serfs
whom he inherited in one of
the faraway provinces.
And now he received a disagreeable
letter from the