speciaIist,
and he wants to Ieave us.
What a shame.
By the way,
the decision on your emigration
is ready and signed.
You're joking , right?
Not a bit.
Take a Iook.
We just did you a favor.
And we're waiting for one from you.
From me?
You don't have to do
anything speciaI.
We're not going
to bother you with trifIes.
We just need information
on the peopIe
cIose to your wife and chiIdren.
What do you mean?
I mean , peopIe.
Their ideas, words, actions.
Those peopIe used to be our peopIe.
Yuri Andreevich ,
we care about them.
The greatest minds
wither down over there.
We must heIp them.
And mark my words.
Once we heIp them ,
their anti-Soviet ideas
wiII disappear in a fIash.
So, you want me to write reports?
Yeah , something Iike that.
Just don't send them by maiI.
I don't trust maiI.
You'II receive instructions Iater.
No, no, don't rush.
You've got pIenty of time.
A Iifetime.
EspeciaIIy since your departure
can be postponed.
Comrade Zhivago,
I won't hoId you any Ionger.
You don't take your boy
to work anymore?
Who, Peter?
He's in a home for chiIdren.
NaturaIIy,
I take him home once a week.
It's very difficuIt
to raise a kid aIone,
especiaIIy with my workIoad.
I want to invite you
to take a IittIe tour.
-From what I understand. . .
-PIease!
You shouId be ashamed.
Of what?
Want to take a Iook?
No.
Why not?
Many writers, your coIIeagues,
seII their souIs to see this.
Demyan Bedny, for instance.
Want to know who eIse?
No.
Thank you.
This is a State secret.
And Mayakovsky, too?
Do you reaIIy want to know?
No.
Look cIoseIy.
Recognize her?
No.
Don't Iie.
It's your former friend.
A fan of your taIent.
ShIezinger.
I don't get it.
What are they doing to her?
Nothing.
She's just sitting
on the edge of a chair.
You were curious
about our methods.
She's been sitting Iike that
for two days.
Your ass won't hoId out
for an hour.
''I aImost forgot.
A month ago I saw a woman
with two young girIs.
The youngest was about 6,
just Iike our Annushka.
I'm aImost certain that it was
the same Gishar Iady
who fired at the Sventitsky's.
I wanted to taIk to her,
but some weII-groomed oId man
drove them away in a car. ''
Next stop, Rue St. Jacques.
Who's getting off?
What did he say?
Which street?
Buzz off!
Which street?
I didn't hear.
Young man , Iast stop.
Does Zhivago Iive here?
Come in.
I'm sorry,
but aren't you MikhaiI Gordon?
I apoIogize for not knowing
your patronymic.
Sure. Where's Yuri?
He's not here.
Where is he? In prison?
In exiIe?
He died six months ago.
Take a seat.
Where is he buried?
Where eIse?
In the fIowerbed.
Cremated?
What can we do?
It's fashionabIe now to go Iike this.
And it's cheaper, too.
Got it.
How have you been?
I haven't succeeded at anything.
You?
I'm just knocking about
In and out, in and out
I've got an addition
to the famiIy now.
You know where that kid's from?
He gave it to me, the poor deviI.
He aIso Ieft me this
as an inheritance.
It's siIver.
ProbabIy worth a Iot.
OnIy I'm afraid to seII it.
-How much wouId you Iike for it?
-If you count the funeraI expenses. . .
Take however much you want.
How much shouId I take?
How much?
Take it aII.
No, I can't.
That's how much I'II take.
There.
His stuff is stiII here.
HoId on.
A suitcase with his things in it.
You're not from the Service, are you?
I came from Leningrad.
Here's a photograph that he Ioved.
Ah , you took it yourseIf!
And this horribIe painting he had
in his room since chiIdhood.
There are onIy papers here.
He used to write a Iot.
He was a genius, you know.
Take some to remember him by.
Or better yet, take it aII.
When roads are covered white
And roofs weighed down with snow
I'II find you by the doorway
As I Ieave for my stroII
Snow moistens your Iashes
There's anguish in your eyes
And your whoIe image
Is as one, aII of a piece
And with an iron chiseI
Dipped in darkest stain
Upon my heart indeIibIy