The House That Swift Built (Dom, kotoryy postroil Svift / Дом, который построил Свифт)

Attention, we're starting. Silence in the studio, attention.

Swift! Let's have the portrait.

- Maybe another picture? - Why? It looks like him.

- But it shouldn't look like him. We don't need an accurate depiction,

we're not making a biography. Music!

Now this is much better.

You think he looks more like Swift now?

Yes, he had quite the imagination and loved to clown around.

Get rid of the eyes, that's enough. Right.

Zoom in, show the carriage.

The doctor exits.

He's looking around.

He's riding on.

He's having breakfast and looking around.

Looking around. He's never been here before.

Prepare for Dublin.

Bells!

Hey, gentlemen!

Tell me what happened. Who died?

Swift died.

- Who? - The dean of St Patrick's Cathedral.

What a pity.

When did this happen?

Today. At five o'clock, as usual.

What do you mean, "as usual"?

You know, as usual.

Do you know what you're saying, dolt?

Sir, you must be from far away, you don't know our dean.

He is a very punctual man, organized and neat in all he does,

and when he passes to the next world, he does it precisely at five.

So he's alive?

Who?

Swift.

How can he be alive if we just told you he died?

The newspapers already published the news and the bell has been tolling for an hour.

Here he comes.

Who?

Swift. Ask him if you don't believe us.

Is he blind?

Not at all, sir. The dean's vision is excellent.

But he often sees everything inside out.

That's why he wears a mask - to avoid disturbing others with the look in his eyes.

Excuse me, sir.

I'm Dr Simpson. I've been sent to you from London by request from the Board of Trustees.

And now these people tell me that you have, pardon me, died.

Very amusing!

But if you will allow me to say so, this is nonsense. Just a flight of fancy, which I will attempt to cure.

I'm a doctor,

Here's a letter confirming my appointment.

Who are you?

Us? We're Mr Swift's guests.

We have been kindly invited into his home

to keep him company at his own wake.

So you're all freeloaders?

Of course, sir! Aren't you one as well?

When there isn't enough wine on the table, Let the downpour fall!

When there is too much intelligence in your head, Let the downpour fall!

As soon as all your thoughts and dreams drown in the rainwater,

You will feel such joy!

Don't think about anything, Don't think, don't think, don't think!

Let the downpour fall!

Let the wind howl!

Let the downpour fall!

Let it fall in a torrent!

Forget and don't think about your death.

Let the downpour fall!

The shorter your weekdays, the longer your holiday.

Let the downpour fall!

Who knows what will happen when the appointed hour comes,

And what the last threshold will be like,

And whether any reward awaits beyond it -

Don't think about it! Don't think, don't think, don't think!

Let the downpour fall!

Let the wind howl!

Let the downpour fall!

Let it fall in a torrent!

Let the downpour fall! Let the wind howl!

THE HOUSE THAT SWIFT BUILT

This is the fourth one this week.

Shall I throw it out or preserve it as a historical monument?

Preserve it.

What do you think, Patrick, who could have done this?

One of the guests.

Are there many guests today?

As usual, ma'am.

Who is here?

The giant. The people from the floating island. The what do you call them, the horses.

The Houyhnhnms. I've told you before, Patrick, they are Houyhnhnms.

Forgive me, ma'am, the Houy-

And that gentleman who lives forever.

Mr Someone.

Him.

And the lilliputians.

The lilliputians are darting around the house all the time. All the time.

They're always in the way.

Direct everyone to the garden. I wish Mr Swift to have his tea in peace.

I keep telling them, but do you think they listen?

They peer in at the windows, barge in at the doors,

And butlers have feelings too.

I keep that in mind when I pay your salary.

Good evening, Patrick.

Good evening sir. You were asked to go to the garden.

- Or is it still morning? - Very possible. To the garden, please.

- In that case, good morning. - Good morning! To the garden!

- And the date? What date is it? - October 5th.

- And the year? - You asked me that yesterday.

- And what year was it yesterday? - The same one as today, 1745.

Pardon, is that before Christ or after?

- Patrick, did you prepare the tea? - No, ma'am.

Thus far I only prepared the cup.

Have I warned you that we expect a new doctor?

Not yet, ma'am.

Lancelot! Lancelot!

- Well? Are we going to keep yelling all day? - Lancelot!..

- Hello. - Hello. What do you want?

I am Gluum the Giant. I need Lancelot.

Everyone needs Lancelot. Remind me, who is that?

A brave knight, the glorious and fearless saviour of England.

A saviour? We haven't had one of those yet, thank God.

I suppose he is still on his way.

As I was saying, we are expecting a new doctor.

Forgive me, ma'am, I'm very busy right now. Please warn me about it later.

He said "Lancelot"? Why Lancelot? Are we in the Middle Ages already?

That seems probable.

Patrick, please don't be angry with me. When one lives as long as I do, time seems to compress,

the years begin to overlap, and sometimes I simply can't understand what century we are in.

Where are we now?

Do you see that oak tree, sir? That huge oak over there? Go talk to it.

It will be wonderful company for you. It, too, must be about 500 years old.

500 years old? Already?

Patrick, I remember when it was still an acorn.

Didn't you hear me?!

But Patrick, it's true, I remember when it was an acorn!

- I'm Dr Simpson- - I have no patience left to deal with you, scumbag.

Pardon, what did you say?

- Dr Simpson. - Please come in, doctor, we've been eagerly expecting you.

I don't understand anything.

We were wondering when you'd get here.

- What's going on here? - A madhouse, sir, as you can see. An ordinary madhouse.

I don't think so.

I'm well acquainted with the subject in question. This is different.

These people don't look like asylum patients.

I have suspected the very same thing.

Crooks and vagabonds.

Why do you let them in?

It's the dean's order.

When he died for the first time and his will was announced,

his house and all of his property was to be used to benefit the insane.

Sir, can you imagine what ensued?

Freeloaders from the whole of Ireland came flooding in.

- Giants, horses. - Who? - Houyhnhnms, whole families of them, can you imagine?

- And worst of all, the liliputians. - Who?

The house is crawling with liliputians this big.

See? There he goes.

We walk like herons in a swamp. God forbid, what if we step on one?

And butlers have feelings too.

Calm down, I will bring this place to order.

How old are you?

Thirty. What does it matter?

The last doctor was thirty as well.

But he was seventy when he left.

And only worked a week.

Shall I announce your arrival?

If I may... I was hoping to observe first...

Bravo, sir. We needed a man like you.

Please, Your Reverence.

Your tea.

The doctor has not arrived yet?

He did arrive, Ms Vanessa. I wanted to announce him but the doctor forbade it.

He said he wants to look around first.

What does this mean, Patrick? You are obligated to follow my orders.

I explained that to the doctor. But he informed me that when the doctor is here, the nurse's orders no longer apply.

Is that so? How interesting.

Patrick, did you think the doctor had the face of a fool?

I would not say so.

He looks foolish and arrogant, at least that's what everyone who saw him says.

And the dean thinks so too. Isn't that so, Your Reverence?

Yes, I agree with you entirely.

Though if he was approved by the Board of Trustees, we can't expect much from him.

Isn't that so, sir dean?

Yes, a very astute observation.

If I may be so bold, sir dean, the new doctor made a good impression on me.

An open and confident look, a determined face,

hopefully acute hearing as well.

- May I go? - You may.

If you have no objection, sir, I will begin.

Thank you.

Today's mail mostly consists of responses to your latest passing.

The newspapers confirm that your departure this year is having an especially turbulent effect.

Yes, gentlemen, I accuse Jonathan Swift of offenses against religion, politics, laws and morals -

that is, all the values most central to the British Kingdom.

I mean, first and foremost, his notorious "Gulliver's Travels".

Your Reverence, the game has gone too far. You turned your house into a circus.

These pagan carnival processions are undermining your good name.

- Mommy, give me that book. - No, my boy, don't touch it.

It's a horrible book, written by a horrible man in a horrible time.

There have been riots in Dublin. In this regard, deputy Ornerry addressed the Parliament thus:

"How long will dean Swift make a mockery of Britain?" He even proposed a bill forbidding you to die.

The bill was rejected. The representative of the Opposition stated:

"England is a democratic nation. If one can't live freely here, at least one is free to die whenever one pleases."