moonshine at a wedding.
I drank with uncle Petya.
We were criticizing Reagan
and - what's-it-called - the Star Wars.
They took me for a Balt.
A Lett. That's what they collected
for my sick wife. - Thank you.
It's a purely Russian phenomenon.
You can't get anything
in your supermarket.
It's a desert.
But when you're on a visit the
table's laden with delicacies.
Counters are empty, fridges're full.
It's the other way around in my country.
You are dazzled in a supermarket...
- Dazzled.
But when you are invited to dinner
by your private friends, you sit down
to table and you see... this.
- You're laying it on thick. - Canapes.
And aperitif. That's all.
So much for the French hospitality.
Your people are so nice.
Why are you so poor?
Probably because we are so nice?
Are you joking?
No, you have a bad system.
And bad leaders.
You haven't been here long
enough to draw conclusions.
Guess what they gave me.
Candies!
And what's that?
Aha! I caught you.
Valya, do I dial 8 first?
That's a provocation.
I don't know any Valya.
There were lots of them. - Lots?
- I got caught. - Got caught?
- By someone in the dark.
- In the dark? - On the quiet.
On the quiet. You, cunning boy.
She gave you her office number.
Here. Off. No.
I don't know. I only know I'm off
my mind... over your body, Sonya.
You are a good doctor.
You've cured me.
You know something?
- I want to go to the field.
- Don't be silly. You are ailing.
- I want to go out to the field.
- You can't.
I'm quite well now.
- Ship ahoy! You want hands?
- Are you giving me away?
Mum was raised on classics.
She named me after two Sonyas.
One moment. Let me guess.
First - Dostoyevsky. Sonechka
Marmeladova. - You are really well-read.
Sorbonne!
And second?
- "Uncle Vanya". Chekhov.
Let me think.
"We shall see a diamond-studded
sky. And we shall rest."
When I grew old enough, I said,
"How could you name me after those two?
One's a fallen woman, the
other's an ugly old spinster."
Mama said they knew what love
and self-sacrifice is.
Look at that horse.
Why doesn't it sleep, that strange horse?
And the horse must be thinking: why
doesn't she sleep, that strange Sonya?
My aunt's husband died years ago.
I saw her three months ago. It's a shame.
- Why did you think of her?
- I feel so good.
I want all people to feel good.
- I'm going to be jealous of your aunt.
- I hope you have just one aunt? - Yes.
- A burden off my chest. - But there's
an uncle... And three cousins.
That's a blow.
- How about two nieces?
- That's too much.
I'll put out your spark of humaneness.
Sonya, you must love only me.
Just me!
- I'm afraid. - You Russians are afraid
to be happy.
Not only Russians.
Ancient Romans wouldn't
tell themselves
they are happy not to cause
the Gods' envy.
Gods do not encourage this. They
people who try to be their equals.
Good chanson.
- Have you gone crazy?
- I've been a week that way.
For shame! They'll give us away
to the police.
Excuse us, he's only kidding.
- Dear brothers and sisters!
- Stop it!
They'll start giving us alms,
what with that padded jacket of mine.
Sonya, there's just four days left.
Are you in your right mind?
You'll burn the flat to ashes.
They turned down my story.
Which one? You're drunk.
Is it about the Smolensk underground
party committee? - No fucking chance.
It's the best I've ever written.
Is this the story? Gogol!
Give it to me. Wait till better times.
There are no better times in this
country. Only lousy and more lousy times.
None of your drunken hysterics.
That's your country.
There won't be another.
Alas! Not that they
chewed it out.
"It's a funky story", they said.
"Talent shows in every single line.
But your specialty is the military-patriotic
theme. And your story breathes eroticism"
It's as good as "Lolita" written by
Bonch-Bruyevich or Agniya Barto.
Guerillas is a worthwhile theme.
Sure. I built a cooperative apartment
for my mother.We