Doctor Zhivago

You mean, will I tell anyone the truth about that girl?

That's what I mean, yes.

You may continue to rely on my professional. . .et cetera.

You are fastidious, aren't you?

What happens to a girl like that when a man like you is done with her?

Interested? I give her to you.

You shouldn't smoke. You've had a shock.

I give her to you, Yuri Andreyevich.

A wedding present.

Where have you seen that girl before?

-What makes you think I've seen her? -Haven't you?

-Yes. -Where?

I'm not supposed to say. It was on a case. Her mother--

No, don't tell me if you shouldn't.

To the bourgeois, it was a war between the Allies and Germany.

To the Bolsheviks, the Allied and the German upper classes.

And which of them won was a matter of indifference.

I was ordered by the Party to enlist. I gave my name as Petrov.

They shouted for victory all over Europe...

...prayed for victory, to the same God.

My task, the Party's task, was to organize defeat.

From defeat would spring the Revolution.

And the Revolution would be victory for us.

The Party looked to the conscript peasants.

Most of them wearing their first good pair of boots.

When the boots wore out, they'd be ready to listen.

Later, I took three battalions with me out of the front line.

The best day's work I ever did.

For now, there was nothing to be done.

There were too many volunteers, like me. Mostly it was mere hysteria.

There were men with better motives, who saw that times were critical...

...and wanted a man 's part. Good men, wasted.

Unhappy men too. Unhappy in their jobs.

Unhappy with their wives.

Doubting themselves.

Happy men don 't volunteer.

They wait their turn and thank God if their age or work delays it.

The ones who got back home at the price of an arm, an eye or a leg...

... these were the lucky ones.

Even Comrade Lenin underestimated...

...both the anguish of that 900-mile-long front...

...and our cursed capacity for suffering.

By the second winter of the war...

... the boots had worn out...

...but the line still held.

Their greatcoats fell to pieces on their backs.

Their rations were irregular.

Half of them went into action without arms, led by men they didn 't trust.

Come on, you bastards!

And those they did trust....

Come on, comrades, come on!

Come on!

Come on!

Comrades! Earthshakers! Show them!

Charge them!

At last, they did what all the armies dreamed of doing.

They began to go home.

That was the beginning of the Revolution.

Deserters.

Replacements.

Tote. . .

. . .arms!

Come back!

Stick together!

Stick together and we'll be all right.

And be ready for them.

-Turn round, lads. -Don't go any further.

-Come on, turn around. -Pigs for the slaughter.

Turn round, lads!

Don't listen to them. Get back in your ranks, I say!

Don't pay any attention to those cowards!

No more war! No more war!

Listen, lads. Ten miles up that road are the Germans!

-Rubbish! -It's not rubbish. They're coming.

And they're coming fast.

You've let them in!

They're coming for your wives, your houses. . .

-. . .your country. -Your country, officer!

Yes, my country! And proud--

Get back in your ranks!

Get back in your ranks, I say!

Get back!

Get back in ranks!

-Are you a nurse? -Yes.

-Are you all right? -Yes.

Then help me.

I'm not a trained nurse, I'm a volunteer.

I see, right. Why did you volunteer?

-I came here to find my husband. -Very gently.

-Have you ever seen an operation? -Yes.

We'll manage.

They're in the next village, brothers! The Germans.

-Your Honor-- -Keep still.

Did you find your husband?

No.

-Your Honor. . . . -Yes, we'd better be off.

You often look at me as though you knew me.

I have seen you. Four years ago, Christmas Eve.

Were you there?

No wonder you look at me.

-Did you know Victor Komarovsky? -Yes, I did.

-That young man who took you away. . . . -My husband.

A lot of courage. He made us look very feeble.

As a matter of fact, I thought you both did. Good man to shoot at.

I'd give anything never to have met him.

The Tsar's in prison.

Lenin's in Moscow!

-Civil war has started. -Good!

Civil war, good?

Not good, Comrade Nurse. Inevitable.

But Lenin in Moscow!

This Lenin, will he be the new Tsar then?

Listen, Daddy, no more Tsars, no more masters!

Only workers in a workers' state! How about that?

-Are you a doctor? -Yes.

Follow me, please.

I can't deal with this.

Order of the Provisional Government. You'll have to try.

"If you could see how hard we've been working. . .

. . .I'm sure you'd forgive me for not writing more. "

-When was that written? -July 20th.

Eight weeks!

"But now the war seems to have stopped.

The hospital is emptying, and I shall have more time.

I may even get time to write some verse, if I've not forgotten how to. "

Oh, I do hope so.

"Larissa Antipova is still here, and I admire her more and more.

She has that strange gift of healing, which doctors don't believe in.

She often does the wrong things, but it always seems to work out right.

How is Uncle Alex? Can he still get his tobacco?"

Would that he could.

"Can Sasha say his letters yet? And how is Auntie Anna?"

He didn't get my letter.

"Most of all, my dearest, how are you?"

Strangely upsetting, he doesn't know she's dead.

Can't see what difference it makes.

They're at it again!

I wish they'd decide once and for all. . .

. . .which gang of hooligans constitutes the government of this country!

Cheer up, Sergei.

Don't you want to go home?

There's fighting at home, Your Honor. I've had enough.

Red Guards and White Guards. . . . The old man's had enough.

Your Honor is a kind gentleman.

And the nurse is a kind lady!

-Finished? -Just about.

-In a while, you'll be with your girl. -If I can get on a train.

I want to be with Katya more than anything in the world.

Yes, of course.

But now that we're going, I feel sad.

Sad. Really sad.

Well, we've been here some time.

This must have been a lovely house once. Don't you think?

What are you going to do?

-In Gradov? -Yes.

-I'll be all right. -I wish I could think so.

You could run a laundry.

What will you do?

I suppose I'll go back to the hospital.

It's funny to think of you there.

I used to pass it on my way to school.

-Do you ever come to Moscow? -From Gradov?

If only there were someone to look after you.

Of course, if there were, I'd be destroyed by jealousy.

Zhivago, don't.

My dear. . . .

Don't, please.

Now, look what you've made me do.

Yuri, we've been together six months. . .

. . .on the road and here.

We've not done anything you'll have to lie about to Tonya.

I don't want you to have to lie about me.

You understand that, Yuri?

You understand everything.

Come on, comrades! I'm in a hurry!

Going home, Kirill?

Home, Your Excellency? Petrograd. I'm joining the Red Guard.

What about your wife?

Sometimes, Comrade Nurse, women have to wait.

Right. Goodbye, honored doctor.

Want some advice?

-Said the millstone to the barley. -That's right. Adapt yourself.

-Goodbye, lvanov. -Goodbye, Your Honor.

Goodbye, Andre.

Goodbye, Simeon.

I'll never forget Your Honor. Never.

Goodbye, Zhivago.

Goodbye. Thank you.

Pilenko.

Giddap!

-Goodbye, brothers! -Goodbye!

The doctor is a gentleman.

-Right. Written all over him. -He's a good man.

God rot good men.

Yuri!

This is Comrade Yelkin, our local delegate. He lives here.

How do you do?

Welcome.

-Comrade Kaprugina. -Welcome.

It's not for you to welcome us.