Petrov's Flu (Петровы в гриппе)

A film by Kirill Serebrennikov

Your ticket?

Based on the novel by Aleksey Salnikov

Nothing to show me? Pay the fare then.

Come on, pay the fare. What are you looking at?

Gawking at me!

What if I'm Snow Maiden?

What if I melt?

Take a seat.

Nobody ever gives up their seat for the disabled.

Look at them, staring out the windows. Sit down!

Don't stand on that leg of yours.

Thanks, but...

Have a seat, you look cancerous.

- What? - You've got cancer.

It's just the flu.

Fares, please.

We used to get free vouchers to a sanatorium every year.

It was for the good of the people.

And now where are we?

Old Gorby sold us out, Yeltsin pissed it away.

then Berezovsky got rid of him, appointed these guys,

and now what? Stinking immigrants everywhere.

I mean, just look! The place is swarming with Tajiks.

There used to be true friendship among nations,

but now, it's the Tajiks and Jews

who actually rule this country.

The Jews got all of the Party's gold reserves,

and only they hold power.

All those currently holding power should be shot!

All of them!

Come here!

Come on, you pussy!

You pussy, move it!

Here!

Move, you pussy.

Here he is, Pops!

Help us out, kid.

Guys, form a line!

Here, I'll show you.

Here's the safety, the bolt, and the trigger.

Get to it.

Come on, get out! Quick!

Move!

Move!

What's going on?

Walk straight ahead, move!

Keep moving.

Come on! Move!

What's going on?

This is illegal! We demand a trial!

No talking allowed.

No talking allowed.

Get ready!

Fire!

Give me that back. Good job.

PETROV'S FLU

Cheer up!

Get off already!

Beware of the non-closing doors!

Let's see your pass, then!

- I'm joking. - Yeah, alright.

Have a seat here.

Oh, thank you!

Such a good girl.

- How old are you? - I'm nine.

Nine?

Did you know

that in India and Afghanistan,

girls can be married off at seven years old?

Can you imagine that?

You could've been married for two years by now,

been screwing your husband for two years already.

You might even have... cheated on him.

All of you... bitches are the same.

What's all this?

WE ARE ALL EQUAL TO ZERO

Jerk!

What a rotten pig.

In olden times,

people like him were respected, considered blessed.

People used to go to them for advice.

But look how it is now...

They can say anything on TV, but speak your mind here...

Why did he grab him?

The old man wasn't hurting anyone.

Should've just left him.

That asshole dragged him out...

What, 'cause of that little bitch?

What did he say wrong?

Wasn't hurting anyone.

Just sitting there... Didn't even go one stop.

Look at him, throwing an elderly person off...

What did he do wrong?

What if he kicked you off like that?

What's up? Why did we stop?

What's going on?

Ladies and gentlemen,

please keep calm!

This is an FSB special operation.

Petrov, please get off.

Mr. or Mrs. Petrov?

I'm Mrs. Petrov. My maiden name is Kondratieva.

No, not you.

I'm Mrs. Petrov!

It's me, Mrs. Petrov!

We need Mr. Petrov. Oh, there he is by the window.

Don't look so surprised.

Or do you want a "Pretty please"?

Here's to getting away with things,

just like the FSB!

Don't go spilling anything.

Careful back there!

Have a drink with us. Just half a glass.

Let's celebrate!

I'll join you once I've got the stiff sorted.

Come on, he's not going anywhere!

Besides, who'd stop a dead wagon?

Alright.

Igor,

could persuade the dead.

You guys are quite the designers.

They're all a bit like me at our funeral home.

One's a singer, kicked out of the conservatory for drunkenness.

Another's a writer. And there's an artist.

The writer is actually a poet.

A robust old dude, quite hard-headed.

He also runs a poetry club in the library.

Must be where my wife works.

She feels sorry for the people who go to his weekly meetings.

Says she wants to lock them in

and burn it down, to end their suffering.

So you're married?

Divorced.

The light's green.

Is there really a corpse in here?

Or did you just say that to scare me?

Take a look. It's, like... a corpse in a suit.

Some guy.

Igor...

It's fine! I wouldn't mind

if someone kept me

in this world a little longer.

Back in Soviet times,

when I was at Naval College,

I won the silver medal

in boxing in Estonia.

Drink to that!

Here's to New Year!

You sure it's OK that we kidnapped a body

and are kinda desecrating it? Won't we be prosecuted?

Long as they don't kill us.

I'm with you, it stinks of corpse here.

You guys get some fresh air.

Wait!

Stop!

Son of a bitch!

What an asshole!

Damn asshole...

Asshole.

So, you work at a funeral home?

Heh, no. Just bumped into...

a guy I know.

What have we got here?

I'll catch a breath.

You do that.

Button up! You're awful sweaty.

- Flu. - Gimme a cig...

Guess I should be going home, too.

What are you gonna do at home? Die alone?

My son might visit...

- Or my wife. - But you're divorced!

You won't be getting any visitors.

Oh, and give me your cell number.

Don't have one.

Don't want me calling you, huh?

You could say that.

It's one thing to run into you,

but I'm not sure I wanna keep in touch.

I'm not all that clingy.

Hey, Vitya, that you?

It's me, Igor.

A buddy and I want to drop by,

to discuss your thesis.

Alright, your doctorate, then!

Busy doing what, exactly?

Vitya, that's ridiculous.

What work could you possibly have?

This guy's sick, he wants to see you, and you're claiming "work"?

Is she at least cute?

Don't just stare. I'm talking to you!

Can you even hear me?

First it was the Marquis de Sade, then prison camps.

So what?

Now it's books on gynecology.

Why do you care?

- Just observing. - It's none of your business.

Mrs. Petrova... Nurlanesad Fatkhi...

Fatkhiakhmetovna.

QUIET