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This picture was produced with the support of
the Ministry of culture of the Russian Federation
Before the battle, I want to tell you,
about our comradeship.
There are comrades everywhere,
in other countries,
but comrades such as in Russia,
there are none, nowhere.
Loving like the Russian soul,
loving not through reason,
but through what God has given us,
and which lies in us,
loving like that, nobody can.
I know,
there are infamous bastards on our soil.
All they think about is stacking up
grain, hay and raising herds of horses.
They bring along, the Devil knows
which kinds of barbarian customs.
They despise their own language.
They even refuse to speak it among themselves.
They sell their offspring like
goods on the cattle market !
And the favour of a foreign king,
who is not even a king,
but a Polish tycoon,
who's crushing their faces
under his yellow boots,
matters more to them
than any kind of fellowship !
But even in the lowest of bastards,
whoever he may be,
there lies a bit of the Russian soul,
when he wakes up someday,
hits the ground with his fists,
takes his head in his hands,
curses aloud his despicable life,
ready to redeem himself,
and to endure torments
to atone for his shame.
Let them all know
what comradeship means
on Russian soil.
And if it comes down to that,
if we have to die,
none of them will ever
avoid the same death.
None !
None !
They don't have the balls,
it's in their nature.
Attack !
Based on the novel by
Magdalena Meltsaj
Lioubomiras Lautsyavitchius
Ada Rogovtseva
Mikhail Boyarskiy - Serguei Dreyden
Youri Belyaev - Les Serdiuk
Vladimir Ilin - Boris Khmelnitskiy
Alexander Dediuchko - Piotr Zaitchenko
Ivan Krasko - Matliuba Alimova
Ostap Ctupka - Mikhail Juravskiy
Sound : Natalia Avanesova
Editing : Leda Semenova
Costumes : Ekaterina Chapkats
Make-up : Vadim Khalaimov
Executive producers
Vladimir Svetozarov
Sergue Yakoutovitch - Marina Nikolaeva
Original Score
Igor Kornelyuk
Director of Photography
Dimitri Mass
Executive Producer
Alexander Potemkin
Anton Znatopolskiy
Ruben Dishdishyan
Directed by
Vladimir Bortko
How was the journey ?
Turn around, son !
Turn around !
It's funny, what you're wearing.
It looks like a pope's cassock, uh !
Such long dresses !
And if I push one of you,
will I see him tumble to the ground,
entangled in the folds ?
Don't laugh at us, father.
Ooh ! He's so cute !
Ha !
Why don't you laugh ?
Although you're my father, if you laugh,
I guarantee you, I will hit you.
What ? Your father ?!
Even though you're my father.
If I get offended, I do not
consider or respect any man.
And how can you fight ?
With your fists ?
Ha ?
So be it.
All right, come on.
Come on !
Come with your fists.
Come on !
Good, son.
Well done, sonny.
Frankly, that's good.
Have you gone crazy, old fart !
The children are back.
One long year without seeing them,
and all he thinks of, is boxing them !
But he was the one wanted to fight !
And not so bad, honestly.
He'll make a good Cossack !
Welcome, my son !
Shall we hug ?
Good, my son.
Always hit the way you hit me.
Don't fear anyone.
And you, snot-nose, what are you
doing there, swinging your arms ?
Why, unworthy son,
won't you come and hug me ?
Such a foolish idea to have
your kids fighting their own father !
Yeah...and I hear this
coming from a highbrow !
Don't listen to your mother, my son.
She's a woman, and knows nothing.
Who's your family ?
Your future, is these plains,
and a good horse.
That...is your family.
Do you see this sword ?
That...is your mother.
I'm sending you off to
Zaporozhye next week.
That is where knowledge can be found.
There only, spirits are being shaped.
Only there.
I'm afraid, my sons, that the Archimandrite
has not passed the

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