Taxi Blues (Taksi-Blyuz) (Такси-блюз)

Where are the Italians?

- No Italians! - Where are they?

Russian bel canto!

Come on!

Up the steps together we go

Stop that! Not in here!

Up the steps...

Step on it, pal!

You'll get paid. Don't worry. Move!

Cut it out.

That's enough! Lyosha!

Lyosha, where are your Italians? You promised us a party!

We're the Italians!

Just a minute!

I'll get everything! It's gonna be fine, guys!

This is a drag. I've had it. My head aches.

Relax! I'm Dr. Feelgood. Follow my hands.

Look at me. Go to sleep.

Lower. Lower. There.

Lower still. Lower.

Lord, the leg already!

A great leg! Who could have guessed?

Shit! Shit!

Today he's at a funeral!

They were nice: No booze, but we got some chow!

We need booze, pal. Help us out. Two bottles.

At least two. We need it bad.

That's not my thing.

You playing tough? Scared of me?

Think I'm a cop? Ever seen cops like me?

I said I had none.

Lyosha, cut it out.

- I want a drink! - We want a drink.

Don't be a party pooper, pal.

I'll pay you 25 rubles a bottle, night rate!

Show the money.

- Here it is. - You're crazy.

In the train station, locker 409, code is l-946.

Where did your friend Katya go?

Where is Lyosha?

The last train to Friazino...

...is at 1:15.

I've had it. Count me out.

Victory!

Here it comes!

Where did they go?

To Friazino.

Okay, up theirs!

Where to now?

Some packing.

Next time, use nails.

Let's see you open it. Go on. Open it.

There it is.

Freedom, at last.

Yakut Indians eat magic mushrooms.

I'm naturally high! I'm always high, pal!

I'm up there! I'm up there with God!

Look, I can do everything!

I want a party!

Pull up over there, pal.

Okay?

You'll love the Captain!

He's got a sword, brandy, a great wife, great food.

He's got it all. Trust me.

No, Lyosha. We're packing it in.

We're old folks. It's bedtime for us.

So beat it! Come on! Beat it!

Scram! Out of here!

You screwed up everything!

Beat it, you fucker!

Come on! Come on! I'll get you!

You're silent.

Quite right.

Good man.

Honest folk with clear eyes.

You're our only hope.

You don't need words. Your meter talks.

What's your name?

Ivan Shlykov.

Good name. Solid stock. A brick wall.

You'd thrive in Siberia

in sub-zero weather, without matches...

You through?

Okay, I'll shut up.

I don't interest you.

How come?

Maybe I'm a genius who talks to God.

Come Friday to the Blue Note Club.

It's on...

You'd rather pass.

You're not curious.

God's intrigued, but Shlykov isn't.

Too bad.

We've arrived. Second house on the right.

Stop there.

Wait for me, pal. The Captain may have split.

I'll pay you double!

Double!

And now we start our Sunday radio program,

"Good Morning".

Ivan, terrible things are going on.

I just read that International Zionism

is conspiring with Russian bureaucrats.

Vanya, 100 years ago

they started plotting to make our rivers flow backwards.

You got it?

And nowadays...

...are those accidents?

My ass! We know who did it! A pipe line explodes!

That's an accident?

And a plane... A plane crashed.

That's an accident?

No, Vanya. It's planned.

You have to be very careful.

And today we're asked to develop a "new mentality".

What do we see all around us? Chaos! Perversion!

Corruption, everywhere!

I'm moving to a new apartment.

Russia's whole fate is at stake, Ivan.

And we, the Russians, we must stick together.

Listen, Pops, I just got stiffed 70 rubles.

Alexei SELIVERSTOV

Where is Seliverstov?

Hey, guys!

You've seen Seliverstov?

What?

He went to take a piss.

Hi, there...

...genius.

Shlykov.

You gonna slug me?

You're right.

A caught thief...

...gets beaten up.

Do your duty.

My head aches.

My money.

I'm broke.

You should have come yesterday.

I was loaded.

Want some coins to phone?

You turd.

Listen to me.

First the money, then you get your horn back.

You got my name. Cab Depot 4.

Don't joke. I've got a gig.

You're nuts!

I always took care of guys like you.

You buy fancy clothes.

Rolling in cash?

"And you, Vanya, work your ass off while we talk to God."

Right?

My horn, asshole.

Give it back.

If you touch it, I won't play it.

I won't be able to.

I'll teach you. I'll teach you good.

- Shlykov! - Oh, old man.

- Shlykov! - Hi. Here.

- Hi. - Whose is this?

Careful. You'll spill it.

How is work?

- Is it enough? - Come on.

May I, guys?

Give it to me.

To the Tupolev 104, world's finest jet!

Give it back!

What a fool!

Wait a sec. He's late.

Come on. Who didn't drink?

Who didn't drink?

Take a glass.

Kostya, my vodka ration!

So what's up for grabs?

What's the verdict?

Hand-crafted.

Nice brass.

As is, 50 rubles max.

A sax player might pay you 500.

But how will you find one?

It's mass-produced. 100 rubles tops.

It's just a hunk of tin.

You a musician now?

You're so cheap. You play at funerals?

At yours, I'll play for free. Just invite me.

A drink?

Well, guys.

What can we drink to?

Let's say, stiff pricks...

...and wads of dough!

Let's drink.

Come on.

Just a sec, guys.

My lady here?

Vera! Vera! We've been over that.

Hi, there!

Why did you do that? I said, no frozen meat, only fresh meat!

- Need any pork? - No.

My cold room is full of frozen stuff!

Get off it!