Here. Drink it, my dear.
I don't much feel like it.
Perhaps you'd like a drop of vodka.
No.
I don't drink vodka every day. Oh.
It's too close, anyway.
By the way, Nanny, how many years have we known each other?
How many? Oh, Lord, help my memory.
You came to live round here... Now, when was it?
Sonichka's mother was still living then.
It was two winters before she died.
That means that at least 11 years must have gone by.
Oh, maybe more.
Have I changed a lot? Yes, a lot.
You were young and handsome then. Now you look so much older.
And there's another thing, too. You take a drop of vodka now and again.
Yes.
In ten years I've become a different man, and why?
I've been working too hard, Nanny.
I'm on my feet from morning till night. I don't have any peace.
At nights, as I lie under my blankets, I am afraid of being dragged out to a patient.
All the time we've known each other, I've never had a free day. How could I help looking older?
And besides, the life itself is tedious, stupid.
And squalid. It drags you down.
What a huge moustache I've grown!
A silly moustache.
I've become an eccentric, Nanny.
I haven't grown stupid yet, thank God. My brains are still functioning.
But my feelings are dull. I don't wish for anything, I don't need anything.
I don't love anybody.
Except you, perhaps. Yes, I am fond of you.
I used to have a nanny like you when I was a child.
Would you like something to eat?
No.
In the first week of Lent I went to Malitskoi because of the epidemic.
Spotted typhus.
In the houses, you couldn't move for sick people. Dirt, stench, smoke everywhere.
And calves mixed up with the sick on the floor. Young pigs, as well.
Huh! I struggled with it all day, not a moment to sit down and eat.
Would they let me rest when I came home? No.
They brought me a signalman from the railway.
I laid him out on the table to operate and he went and died on me under the chloroform.
Just when I least wanted it, my feelings seemed to wake up again.
My conscience began to trouble me as though I'd killed him deliberately.
I sat down and I closed my eyes.
Like this.
I began to think whether the people who come after us in a hundred years' time,
the people for whom we are now blaxing a trail,
will they remember us, will they speak kindly of us?
No, Nanny, they won't.
If people won't remember, God will.
Yes. Thank you.
You put it well.
Yes.
(Clears throat)
(Yawns) Had a good sleep?
Yes.
Very.
Since the Professor and his consort came to live here,
our routine has been turned upside down.
I sleep at the wrong time.
I eat the wrong kinds of food for lunch and dinner, I drink wine. It's all bad for my health.
Before, I never had a moment. Sonia and I used to work like Trojans.
Now, only Sonia works, and I do nothing but eat, sleep and drink.
It's a bad business.
Such goingson!
The Professor gets up at midday, but the samovar is kept boiling all morning.
We used to have dinner soon after twelve, like everybody else.
Now that they are here, we have it after six in the evening.
The Professor spends the night reading and writing,
and then suddenly, after one o'clock, the bell rings. My goodness, what is it?
He wants some tea. Such goingson!
Are they going to stay here much longer?
(Whistles)
A hundred years.
The Professor's decided to settle here.
It's the same now. The samovar's been boiling for two hours and they've gone for a walk.
They're coming, they're coming. Don't fuss.
Beautiful. Beautiful, wonderful scenery.
Yes, yes, the views are remarkable.
Tomorrow we'll go to the plantation, Papa. Would you like to?
(Vanya) Tea's ready.
Now, my friends, would you be good enough to send my tea to my study?
I have something more I must do today.
I am sure you will like it at the plantation.
It is hot. Stifling.
But our great man of learning is wearing his overcoat and galoshes,
and carrying his umbrella and gloves.
He's obviously taking good care of himself.
But how lovely she is.
Lovely!
I've never seen a more beautiful woman.
You know, Marina Timofeevna,
whether I'm driving through the fields or taking a walk in the shady garden,
or even just looking at this table,
I feel inexpressibly happy.
Weather's marvelous, birds are singing,
and we all live here in peace and harmony.
What more could we need?
Thank you kindly.
Her eyes.
Exquisite woman.
Tell me something, Ivan Petrovich.
What do you want me to tell you?
Uh...
Isn't there anything new?
Nothing at all. Everything's old.
I'm just the same as I was. A little worse, perhaps, because I've grown laxy.
I don't do anything. I just grumble.
As for Maman, she still babbles on about the emancipation of women.
With one eye she looks into her grave,
and with the other she searches her learned books for the dawn of a new life.
And the Professor?
And the Professor! Sits in his study, writing from morning till dead of night.
With furrowed brows and thought intense,
we write and write our works immense.
But no praise ever comes our way,
for what we are or what we say.
Poor paper. It would be better if he wrote his autobiography.
What a superb subject!
A retired professor, don't you know? A sort of scholarly dried fish!
Afflicted with gout, rheumatism, migraine.
His liver swollen with jealousy and envy.
This dried fish lives on his first wife's country estate.
Lives there against his will, because he can't afford to live in town.
He is constantly complaining about his misfortunes,
although, as a matter of fact, he has been extraordinarily lucky.
Just think how lucky.
The son of a common sexton,
he somehow manages to get university qualifications, and a professorship.
Later, he becomes..."Your Excellency".
And the soninlaw of a senator, and so on and so forth.
However, that is not the main point. Just consider this.
The man has been writing and lecturing about art for exactly 25 years,
and yet he understands nothing whatever about it.
For 25 years he has been chewing over other men's ideas
on realism, naturalism, and all that sort of nonsense.
For 25 years he has been writing on things which intelligent people knew all the time
and stupid people weren't interested in.
So in fact, for 25 years he's just been wasting time.
And yet, what an opinion he has of himself. And what pretensions!
Now he's retired, and not a living soul knows anything about him.
He is absolutely unknown.
So for 25 years, all that he has done is to keep a better man out of a job.
But just look at him. He struts about like a little tin god.
Come, now. I believe you envy him.
Yes. I do envy him.
And what a success with women.
No Don Juan ever had success so complete as his.
My sister, his first wife,
a beautiful, gentle creature,
as pure as that blue sky,
generous and noblehearted,
with more admirers than he's ever had pupils,
loved him as only purehearted angels can love those who are...
pure and beautiful as themselves.
My mother still adores him. He still inspires in her a feeling of reverent awe.
His second wife, you've just seen her, intelligent, beautiful,
she married him when he was already an old man.
She gave him her youth, beauty, freedom. Whatever for? Why?
Is she faithful to the Professor? She is, I am sorry to say.
Why should you be sorry? Because loyalty of that sort is false.
There's plenty of rhetoric in it, but no logic.
To be unfaithful to an old husband whom she couldn't bear would be immoral.
But to bottle up all that youth and vitality,
her capacity to feel.
That, I suppose, would not be immoral.
Vanya, I don't like it when you say things like that.
Come, really, anyone who would betray a wife or a husband is an unreliable person,
who might betray their own country, too. Oh, dry up, Waffles!
Forgive me, Vanya, but my wife ran away from me with a man that she loved,
the day after our wedding, on account of my unprepossessing appearance.
But I've never failed in my duty towards her.
I still love her. I am faithful to her.
I help her as much as I can, and I've given all I possess
to educating the children she had by the man that she loved.
I have lost my happiness, but I have still kept my pride.
And she, her youth has gone, her beauty has faded, as nature ordains that it must,
and the man that she loved has died.
What has she got left?
Nanny? Some peasants have come. Please go and talk to them.
I'll look after the tea.
You know I have come to see your husband.
You wrote and told me that he was very ill. Rheumatism or something.
I find he is perfectly well.
Last night, he was depressed and complained of pains in his legs.
But today he's all right.
And I've galloped 20 miles at breakneck speed.
Well, never mind. It's not the first time.
At least I can stay the night and sleep. Quantum satis.
That's splendid. It's so rare for you to stay the night.
I don't suppose you've had dinner. I haven't.
Then you'll dine with us. We have dinner soon after six nowadays.
The tea's cold.
Oh, the temperature in the samovar has indeed perceptibly fallen.
Never mind, Ivan Ivanovich, we'll drink it cold.
Excuse me, but my name is not Ivan Ivanovich. It's Ilya Ilyich.
Ilya Ilyich Telyeghin.
Or as some people call me, on account of my pockmarked face...
Waffles.
I am Sonichka's godfather.
And His Excellency, your husband, knows me very well.
I am now living here on your estate.
You may have been so kind as to remember that I have dinner with you every day.
Ilya Ilyich is our helper, our righthand man.
Let me give you some more tea, godfather, dear.
Oh! What's the matter, Grandmama?
I forgot to tell Alexandr. I'm losing my memory.
I had a letter today from Pavel Alexevich from Kharkoff. He sent us his new pamphlets.
Interesting? It's interesting, but somehow strange.
He's attacking the very thing he was maintaining seven years ago. It's dreadful.
There's nothing dreadful in that. Drink your tea, Maman.
But I want to talk. We've been talking.
And talking and reading pamphlets for 50 years.
It's time to stop.
For some reason, you don't like listening when I talk.
Forgive my saying so, Jean,
but you have changed so much this last year or so, I positively don't recognixe you.
You used to be a man of principles, a man of elevating ideas.
Oh, yes. I used to be a man of elevating ideas, who never elevated anyone.
You could hardly have made a more wounding joke. I am 47 now.
Up to a year ago, I tried to pull the wool over my eyes,
just as you do with all that pedantic rubbish, so that I shouldn't see the realities of life.
And I thought I was doing the right thing.
Now I lie awake at night in sheer vexation and anger,
so stupidly wasting the time not doing the things for which I am now too old.
Uncle Vanya, this is boring.
You seem to be blaming your former principles.
It is not they, but you who are to blame.
Principles are nothing in themselves. Just empty phrases.
You ought to have been working.
Working?
It isn't everyone who's capable of being a writing machine like your Herr Professor.
What do you mean by that? Grandmama, Uncle Vanya, please!
I'll be quiet. I'll hold my tongue.
And apologixe.
What a lovely day.
Not too hot, either.
Lovely day... to hang oneself.
Chook, chook, chook, chook!
Nanny, what did the peasants want?
The same as before. They're still going on about the waste plan.
Chook, chook, chook! Which is it you're calling?
The speckled one. She's gone off somewhere with her chicks. The crows may get them.
(Polka on guitar)
Is the Doctor here? Yes.
They've come for you, please. Where from?
From the sawmill.
Oh, many thanks.
Well, I'd better be going.
Oh, hang it, what a nuisance. It really is annoying.
Come back to dinner afterwards. No, it will be too late. Would that I could!
My good fellow!
You might get me a glass of vodka or something.
Yes, Doctor.
Would that I could. Would that I could.
Hmm.
In a play by Ostrovsky, there's a man with a big moustache but very little brain.
That's me.
If you ever cared to look me up, with Sonia here, I'd be so pleased.
I have a small estate, about 90 acres altogether.
But if you're interested, there's an orchard and nursery gardens,
such as you won't find for hundreds of miles around.
Next to my place there's a government plantation,
and the forester there is old and is often ill, so in fact, I'm in charge of everything.
Yes, I've been told you're very fond of forestry.
One can do a lot of good that way,
but doesn't it interfere with your real vocation? You're a doctor.
Only God knows what our real vocation is. Is it interesting?
Yes, it is interesting work. It must be.
You're still a young man. You don't look more than 36... or 37.
Why, you cannot find it as interesting as you say.
Nothing but trees and trees.
I should think it must be monotonous. No, it's extremely interesting.
The Doctor plants new trees every year. And he's already been awarded a bronxe medal.
And a diploma. He does his best to stop the old forests being laid waste.
If you listen to him, you'll agree with him entirely.
He says that forests add beauty to the countryside,
and make a harsh climate milder.
In countries with a mild climate, people are less exhausted by the struggle with nature.
And so man is gentler, and more capable of tender feeling.
In such countries, people are beautiful and sensitive.
Their speech is elegant, their movements graceful.
Science and the arts flourish among them.
Their philosophy is cheerful,
and there is refinement and courtesy in their attitude towards women.
(Clapping) Bravo! Bravo!
All this is very charming. However, it doesn't convince me, so, my friend,
you must permit me to go on burning logs in my stove and building my barns with wood.
You couldn't burn turf in your stove and build your barns of stone?
Well? I would let you cut wood when you really needed it. Why destroy the forest?
The Russian forests are groaning under the ax, and millions of trees are being destroyed.
The homes of birds and animals are being laid waste.
Rivers are drying, wonderful scenery is disappearing,
and all this just because people are too laxy and stupid
to stoop and pick fuel from the ground.
Isn't that so, madam?
Anyone who can burn up all that beauty in a stove,
and destroy something that we cannot create, must be a thoughtless barbarian.
Man is endowed with reason and creative power to increase what has been given him,
but so far, he's been a destroyer, not a creator.
I can see your ironic expression, and I expect what I say doesn't seem at all serious,
but to you, just... crankiness.
But all the same, when I walk by the peasants' wood, which I saved from being cut down,
or when I hear the rustling of young trees which I planted with my own hands,
I know that the climate is, to some extent, in my power too,
and that if mankind is happy in a thousand years' time,
I'll have been responsible for a little of it.
And when I plant a young birch tree and I watch it growing green and swaying in the wind,
my heart fills with pride and I...
Ah, well, it is time for me to go.
After all, I probably am just a crank.
Allow me to take my leave.
When are you coming to see us, then?
Oh, I don't know. Not for a month, again?
You have been behaving impossibly again, Vanya.
Did you have to irritate your mother with your talk about writing machines?
Today at lunch, you argued with Alexandr again.
Oh, how petty it is. But if I detest him...
There's nothing you can detest Alexandr for. He's just like anyone else.
He's no worse than you are.
No, if only you could see yourself.
As though living were such an effort for you. Oh, such an effort!
Oh, such an effort! I'm such a bore.
Everybody blames my husband. They all look at me with... compassion.
An unfortunate woman. She's got an old husband.
This sympathy for me, don't think I don't understand it.
As Astrov said just now,
you senselessly destroy the forests and soon there'll be nothing left on earth.
In the same way, you senselessly ruin human beings,
and soon, thanks to you,
there'll be no loyalty,
no integrity, no capacity for selfsacrifice left.
Why can't you look at a woman with indifference unless she's yours?
Because that doctor is right.
There's a devil of destruction in every one of you.
You'll spare neither wood nor birds nor women.
Nor one another.
I don't like this moralixing.
That doctor has a tired, sensitive face.
An interesting face.
Sonia is obviously attracted by him.
She's in love with him.
I can understand her feelings.
He's visited this house three times since I've been here.
But I'm shy. I've never once had a proper talk with him.
Or been nice to him.
He must have thought me bad tempered.
Perhaps, Vanya, you and I are such good friends
because we're both such tiresome and boring people.
Tiresome.
Don't look at me like that. I don't like it.
How else can I look at you, if I love you?
You are my happiness, my life, my youth.
Oh, I know the chances of you returning my feelings are negligible, nil.
But... I don't want anything.
Only let me look at you and hear your voice.
Hush, they might hear you.
Don't drive me away. Let me talk of my love for you.
That in itself would give me such great happiness.
This is torture.
(Thunderclap)
Who's that? Sonia, is that you?
It's me. Oh, you, Nanoshka. This pain is unbearable.
Your rug's fallen on the floor.
Oh, I'll shut the window, Alexandr. No, no, no, I'm suffocated.
I dropped off just now and I dreamt my left leg didn't belong to me,
and I was woken up by the most agonixing pain.
No, it's not gout.
It's more like rheumatism.
What time is it now?
It's twenty minutes past twelve.
You might look up Batiushkov in the library in the morning.
I believe we have his works. What?
Look up Batiushkov in the morning. I seem to remember we had him.
Oh, why is it so difficult for me to breathe?
You're tired. This is the second night you haven't slept.
They say Turgenev got angina pectoris from gout. I'm afraid I might get it.
Oh, this damnable, disgusting old age, devil take it!
Since I've got old, I've become repulsive even to myself.
You must find it repulsive to look at me. Every one of you.
You talk of your old age as though we're all to blame for it.
You are the first to find me repulsive.
(Chuckles) You're right, of course. I'm not a fool, I understand.
You're young, healthy, goodlooking. You want to live.
Whereas I'm an old man, almost a corpse.
Do you think I don't understand?
Well, of course it's stupid of me to go on living.
But wait a little, I'll soon set you free. I won't linger on much longer.
I'm worn out. For God's sake, be quiet. Of course. Everyone's worn out. Bored.
Wasting their youth, thanks to me.
I'm the only one that's content and enjoying life, yes.
Oh, do be quiet. You're exhausting me.
Everyone's exhausted. Of course. This is intolerable!
What is it that you want from me?
Nothing at all.
Be quiet, then. Please.
It's a strange business.
Whenever Ivan Petrovich starts talking, or that old idiot, Maryia Vasilievna, everyone listens.
I only have to say a single word and everyone begins to feel miserable.
Even my voice disgusts them.
Well, I suppose I am disgusting.
An egoist, a despot.
But haven't I a right to be selfish in my old age? Haven't I deserved it?
I ask you, haven't I a right to a quiet old age? To a little personal attention?
No one is disputing your rights.
Oh, the wind's got up.
I'll shut the window, Alexandr.
It's going to rain presently.
No one is disputing your rights.
(Watchman's rattle clacking)
(Thunderclap)
(Vanya) My dear Astrov, please forgive me, you are quite wrong.
(Astrov) The point is academic and fruitless.
(Alexandr) After devoting all my life to learning, having grown used to my study,
my lecture room, to esteemed colleagues,
to find myself suddenly, for no reason at all, in this crypt,
having to meet stupid people every day, having to listen to their trivial conversation.
I want life, success, fame, controversy.
Here I feel like an exile.
Spending every minute regretting the past, watching others succeed.
Fearing death. It's more than I can bear.
Have patience. In five or six years, I shall be old too.
Papa, you told us to send for Dr. Astrov, and now he's come, you refuse to see him.
It's discourteous. We've troubled him for nothing.
What do I need your Astrov for?
He knows as much about medicine as astronomy.
We can't send for the whole medical faculty to attend to your gout.
Well, I won't even speak to that crank. Just as you please.
It's all the same to me.
(Thunderclap)
(Yawns) What time is it now?
Nearly one o'clock.
As I'm suffocating, Sonia, hand me my drops from the table.
Just a moment.
No, no, no, no, not those.
Oh, it's no use asking for anything. Please don't be peevish.
Some people may like it, but do spare me, for goodness' sake. I don't like it.
And I haven't the time.
I must get up early tomorrow to see to the hay making.
There's a storm coming.
There. Did you see?
Sonia and Helena, go to bed.
I have come to take your place.
Oh, no. No, no, no, don't leave me with him. He'll kill me with his talking.
But they need the rest. They haven't slept for two nights.
Then let them go to bed. You go, too. I'd be so grateful, I beseech you.
For the sake of our past friendship, don't argue. We'll... We'll talk later on.
Friendship! Past! Be quiet, Uncle Vanya.
My dear, don't leave me with him.
He'll kill me with his talking.
This is becoming ridiculous.
You ought to go to bed, Nanny. It's late.
The samovar hasn't been cleared away. I can't very well go to bed.
Of course, everyone's awake, everyone's worn out.
I'm the only one enjoying myself.
(Thunderclap)
What is it, my dear? Your pain again?
I've got a grumbling pain in my legs, too.
Such a pain.
Oh, it's that old trouble of yours.
Vera Vitrovna, Sonichka's mother used to get so worried about it,
she couldn't sleep of nights.
So fond of you, she was.
The old are just the same as the little ones. They like someone to pity them.
But nobody pities the old.
Come to bed, my dear. Come, my darling.
I'll give you some lime flower tea and warm your feet and say a prayer for you.
Let's go, Marina.
I've got a grumbling pain in my legs myself.
Such a grumble.
Vera Vitrovna used to get so worried. She used to cry over you.
You were little then, Sonichka.
You didn't understand.
Come along, sir.
Come along.
I'm quite worn out with him.
I can hardly keep on my feet.
You with him, and I with myself.
I haven't slept for three nights.
There's something the matter with this house.
Your mother hates everything except her pamphlets and the Professor.
The Professor is bad tempered. He doesn't trust me and he's afraid of you.
Sonia is irritable with her father and she's angry with me.
She hasn't spoken to me for a fortnight.
You detest my husband and you openly despise your mother.
I'm... on edge.
Well, I've been on the point of crying 20 times today.
Oh, what is the matter with this house?
Let's... stop this moralixing.
Oh, Vanya, you are intelligent and cultured.
Surely you ought to realixe the world is being destroyed,
not by fire and by pillage,
but by hatred. Envy.
Oh, and all this petty quarreling.
Now, your task should be to reconcile people, not to complain.
Reconcile me to myself first.
Dearest. Don't.
Go away.
(Thunderclap)
In a minute or two,
the rain will be over,
and everything in nature refreshed and content.
Only I shall not be refreshed by the storm.
Day and night, I am suffocated by the thought that my life has been irretrievably wasted.
I have no... past.
It has been stupidly flitted away on trifles.
And the present is awful in its pointlessness.
What am I to do with my life?
My love for you?
Where do they belong?
My life has been wasted...
...like a ray of sunlight falling down a well.
I am wasted, too.
When you speak to me of your love, I feel quite stupid and I don't know what to say.
Forgive me.
There is nothing I can say to you.
Good night. If only you knew...
...how I suffer when I think that near to me, in the same house, another life is being wasted.
Yours! What are you waiting for?
What damned philosophy is holding you back?
Understand. Do understand.
Ivan Petrovich, you're drunk.
Maybe, maybe. Where's the Doctor?
He is... in there. He is staying the night with me.
I may be. I may be. You've been drinking again today. What for?
It gives the illusion of life. Don't stop me, Helena.
You never used to drink.
You never used to talk so much.
Oh, go to bed. You bore me.
Dearest! You wonderful creature! Leave me alone!
Oh! Oh, this is really hateful.
Ten years ago,
I used to meet her at my sister's house.
She was... 17.
And I was 37.
Why didn't I fall in love with her then and ask her to marry me?
I could have, so easily.
She'd have been my wife now.
(Thunderclap)
Yes.
And perhaps we would have been awakened by the storm.
She would have been frightened.
I'd have held her in my arms,
and whispered, "Don't be afraid.
"I am here."
What a wonderful thought!
How enchanting!
It actually makes me laugh with happiness.
Oh, but my thoughts are in a tangle.
Why am I so old? Why won't she understand me?
Her fine phrases, her silly, facile theories about the ruin of the world. How hateful they are.
And how I've been cheated.
I used to love the Professor.
Crafty old invalid!
I worked like an ox for him.
He was the breath of my life.
Everything he wrote or uttered seemed to me inspired.
And now what?
Good God, he's settled down here and at last you can see what his life really amounts to.
Not a page of his writing will survive him. He is unknown, a nonentity, a soap bubble.
And I've been cheated.
I see it now.
Stupidly cheated.
Play. Everyone in the house has gone to bed.
Play! (Sighs) Oh, fine.
Are you alone here?
No ladies?
# Dance, my heart
# And dance, my fire
# The master's nowhere to retire
The storm woke me.
It was a nice drop of rain.
What time is it? The devil knows.
I thought I heard Yeliena's voice.
She was in here a moment ago.
An exceptionally attractive woman.
# La loo, lee da
Ha, what a collection!
From Kharkoff,
Moscow.
From Tula.
He must have plagued every town in Russia with his gout.
Is he really ill? Or just shamming?
He is ill.
Why are you so melancholy today? Are you feeling sorry for the Professor?
Leave me alone.
Maybe you're in love with the Professor's wife.
She is a friend. Already?
What do you mean by "already"?
Well, a woman only becomes a man's friend in three stages.
First, she's an agreeable acquaintance.
Then she's a mistress, and then only after that a friend.
That is a vulgar theory.
What? Well, yes, I know.
I must confess I am becoming pretty vulgar, you see.
I am drunk, too.
As a rule, I only get drunk like this once a month.
When I'm in this state, I become extremely provocative and audacious.
Then there is nothing I don't feel equal to.
I undertake the most difficult operations and I perform them beautifully.
I draw up the most farreaching plans for the future.
And at such times, I no longer think of myself as a crank,
but I believe I am doing a tremendous job for mankind.
Tremendous.
And on these occasions too, I have my own system of philosophy,
according to which, all of you, my friends,
appear as insignificant as insects or microbes.
Go on, Waffles. My dear friend, I'd do anything for you.
But do remember, everyone in the house has gone to bed.
(Shouts) Play!
(Subdued tune) I tell you.
A drink would be nice, eh?
Come along, eh? I believe there's some brandy left.
Shall we go to my place when it's light?
Oh, excuse me. I haven't got my tie on.
Uncle Vanya,
you've been drinking again with the Doctor.
You're a fine pair.
It's not becoming at your age.
It has nothing to do with age.
When people have no real life, they live on illusion.
Anyway, it's better than nothing.
The hay has been cut.
It rains every day. Everything is rotting and you are living on illusions.
You've been utterly neglecting the estate.
I've had to work alone. I'm quite worn out.
Uncle, you have tears in your eyes.
Tears? Nonsense, it's nothing.
You looked at me then just as your dear mother used to.
My dear child.
My sister.
My dear sister.
Where is she now, I wonder?
If she knew. If only she knew.
What, Uncle? Knew what?
Useless.
Painful.
Erm... Nothing later. I...
I'll go.
(Thunderclap)
Doctor? You're not asleep, are you?
No. One minute.
Just coming.
What can I do for you?
Drink yourself, if you don't find it disgusting, but don't let my uncle drink, I implore you.
It's bad for him.
Very well, we won't drink any more.
That's settled. I'll go home now.
It'll be light by the time the horses are ready.
It's still raining. Wait till morning. The storm is passing.
We'll only have a few drops.
Please don't ask me to see your father again.
I tell him he has gout. He tells me it's rheumatism.
I tell him to stay in bed and he sits up in a chair.
Today he wouldn't even speak to me. Ssh!
Would you like something to eat?
Well, perhaps, yes.
I like eating at night.
I believe there's something here.
They say he's had a great success with women.
Oh? He's been spoilt by them.
Have some cheese.
Ah! I haven't eaten anything all day.
Just drink.
Oh, your father is difficult.
May I?
There's no one here, so I can speak frankly.
You know, I... I don't think I could last in this house a month.
The atmosphere would suffocate me. Your father completely absorbed in his gout and his books,
and your Uncle Vanya with his depression.
Your grandmother and your stepmother, too.
What about my stepmother?
Well, everything about a human being ought to be beautiful.
Soul, face, clothes, thought.
She is beautiful, there's no denying that, but she does nothing.
She only eats, sleeps, goes for walks and bewitches us all with her beauty.
She has no responsibilities. Other people work for her.
Isn't that so?
An idle life cannot be virtuous, hmm?
Well, perhaps I'm being too severe.
I'm dissatisfied with life, like your Uncle Vanya, and so we are both turning into old grumblers.
You're dissatisfied with life, then?
No, I love life, as such, but...
...but our life, our everyday provincial life in Russia, I just can't endure.
I despise it with all my heart.
As for my own life, God knows I can find nothing good in it at all.
You know, when you walk through a forest on a dark night,
you see a small light gleaming in the distance.
You don't notice your tiredness nor the darkness nor the branches lashing you in the face.
I work harder than anyone in the district. You know that.
Fate betters me continuously. At times, I suffer unbearably.
For me, there is no light in the distance.
I'm not expecting anything for myself any more.
I don't love my fellow creatures. I... I haven't cared for anyone for years.
Not for anyone? No one.
I have a sort of fondness for your nurse, for the sake of old times.
But the peasants are all too alike, undeveloped, living in squalor.
As for the educated people, I can't get on with them. They tire me.
Our good friends are shallow in thought, shallow in feeling,
unable to see beyond their noses. To put it bluntly, stupid.
The ones who are a bit more intelligent are hysterical, positively rotten with introspection.
They whine, they are full of hatreds and morbidly malicious.
They sidle up to a man, stare at him out of the corner of their eyes
and they pass their judgment.
"Oh, he's a gasbag," or "Oh, he's not quite right in the head."
And they don't know how to label me. They say, "Oh, he's odd. He's very odd."
I love forests. That's odd. I don't eat meat. That's odd.
There's no direct, unprejudiced, objective attitude in people or nature left.
No, there is not.
No, I beg you, don't drink any more.
Why not?
It's so unlike you.
You have such dignity.
Your voice is so soft.
More than that, you are beautiful as no one else I know is beautiful.
So why do you want to be like ordinary men who drink and play cards?
Don't do it!
You always say that people don't create, but merely destroy what nature has given them.
They why? Why are you destroying yourself?
You mustn't. You mustn't.
I beseech you, I implore you.
I won't drink any more. Give me your word.
My word of honor.
Thank you.
Enough. My head's clear, I am perfectly sober now.
And I shall remain sober to the end of my days.
Ah.
Well, one must go on.
As I said, my time is over. It's too late for me now.
I've worked myself to a standstill. I... I've aged.
I don't love anyone. I don't... I never shall now.
The only thing that still affects me is... beauty.
I can't remain indifferent to that.
I believe that if Yeliena Andreyevna wanted to, she could turn my head in a day.
That's not love. That's not affection.
What is it? Nothing.
In the first day of Lent, one of my patients died under chloroform.
Oh, you must forget about that. Yes.
Tell me, Michail Lvovich,
if I had a friend, or a younger sister,
and if you got to know that she...
Well, suppose that she loved you.
What would you do?
I don't know.
Oh, probably nothing.
I'd tell her that I couldn't love her.
Besides, I've got too many other things on my mind.
Well, if I'm going, I ought to start.
Well, I'll say goodbye, my dear girl, or we'll be here until morning.
I'll go through the drawing room, if I may.
Otherwise I'm afraid your Uncle Vanya may keep me all night.
Good night.
(Dog barks)
He said nothing to me.
His soul and his heart are still shut off from me.
Then why do I feel so happy?
I told him, "You have dignity and nobility of mind.
"And such a soft voice."
Did it sound out of place?
His voice vibrates and caresses.
I can almost feel it in the air now.
When I said that to him about a younger sister, he didn't understand.
Oh, how dreadful it is I'm not pretty.
I know I'm not. I know. I know.
Last Sunday, as people were coming out of church, I heard them talking about me.
And a woman said...
"She's kind and generous.
"But what a pity she is so plain."
So plain.
The storm's over.
Mmm. Oh, the air is so fresh.
Where's the Doctor? He's gone.
Sonia. What?
How long are you going to go on being sulky with me?
We've done each other no harm, so why should we be enemies?
Oh, let's make it up.
I've wanted to myself. Oh, don't let's be cross any more.
Oh, no. No, that's better.
Has Papa gone to bed? Oh, no.
He's in the drawing room.
What's this? The Doctor's been having supper.
Oh, there's wine, too!
Oh, let's drink to our friendship. Yes, let's.
Out of the same glass, shall we? Oh, it's better like that.
There.
No.
Ah, now we're real friends.
Friends.
I wanted to make it up for ever so long, but I felt so ashamed.
Why are you crying?
Never mind. There's no reason.
Oh, don't cry. No, there. No.
Oh, I'm a queer creature.
I'm crying, too.
You're angry with me because you think I married your father for the wrong reasons.
If it helps you, I'll swear. I married him for love.
I was attracted to him as a learned man.
A celebrity. It wasn't real love.
But it did seem real to me at that moment.
I'm not to blame.
Ever since our marriage, you've been punishing me
with those shrewd, suspicious eyes of yours.
Please, let's forget about it. You mustn't look at people like that.
It doesn't suit you. You should have trust in everyone.
Or your life becomes impossible.
Tell me, frankly.
As a friend.
Are you happy?
No. I knew that.
One more question.
Tell me, honestly,
wouldn't you have liked your husband to be young?
God! What a child you are still!
Of course I should.
Oh, ask me some more questions.
Go on. Oh, do.
Do you like the Doctor?
Yes. Yes, very much.
He's gone, but I can still hear his voice.
And when I look at the dark window, I can see his face.
Do let me tell you.
But I mustn't speak so loudly. I should feel ashamed.
We'll go to my room. We'll talk there.
Do I seem obsessed to you?
Oh, no.
Tell me something about him. Oh, what shall I tell you?
He's so clever. He knows how to do things. He can do anything.
He cures the sick and he plants forests, too.
It isn't a question of forests or medicine. Oh, my dear, don't you understand?
He has a spark of genius.
Oh, and you know what that means. Courage, freedom of mind, breadth of outlook.
He plants a tree,
and pictures what will come of it in a thousand years' time.
And he speculates on the future happiness of mankind.
Oh, such people are rare, and we must love them.
He... drinks. Sometimes he seems a little coarse.
But what does that matter? A talented man cannot stay unblemished in Russia.
Oh, just think of the life that this doctor leads.
The impassable mud on the roads. Frosts, snow storms.
Vast distances.
Crude, primitive people.
Poverty and disease all round him.
Oh! It's hard for a man to keep pure and sober till he's 40.
I wish you happiness with all my heart.
You deserve it.
I am just a tiresome person of no importance.
In my music studies, in my home life and all my romantic affairs.
In fact, in everything, I've always been just a person of no importance.
Really, Sonia, when you come to think of it,
I'm a very, very unfortunate woman.
There's no happiness for me,
here on this earth.
(Sonia laughs) Why do you laugh?
Oh, I am so happy. So happy!
I should like to play something. Oh, I should like to play something now.
Do. Do play. I can't sleep.
Oh, no. No, in a minute.
Your father isn't asleep. When he's unwell, music irritates him.
Go and ask him. If he doesn't mind, I'll play.
Well, go! I'm going.
It's a long time since I've played the piano.
I shall play...
...and cry.
Cry like a foolish girl.
(Watchman's rattle claps)
Is that you tapping, Ephim?
Yes, it's me. Don't tap. The master's not well.
Oh, I'm just going. Heela! Good dog.
Come, boy. Good dog.
(Hums)
We mustn't.
The Herr Professor has graciously expressed the wish
that we should all assemble here at one o'clock.
It is now... a quarter to.
He desires to make some communication with the world.
It's probably some business matter. He does no business.
He just writes nonsense, grumbles and is jealous.
Uncle! Oh, well. Ah!
I apologixe.
Just look at her.
She can't even walk without staggering, she's so laxy.
Wonderful! Wonderful!
And you drone on all day long. Aren't you tired of it?
Oh!
I'm dying of boredom.
I don't know what to do.
Isn't there plenty to do if you wanted to?
No. What?
You could help run the estate.
Teach the children, help to look after the sick. There's plenty to do.
Before you and Papa came here,
Uncle Vanya and I used to go to the market ourselves and sell the flour.
Well, I don't know how to. Anyway, I'm not interested.
It's only in idealistic novels that people teach and doctor the peasants.
Oh, how am I suddenly to start teaching and doctoring?
Well, I don't understand how you can help wanting to.
Wait a little. You'll get used to the idea.
Now, don't be depressed, dear. You're bored and don't know what to do with yourself.
But boredom and idleness are infectious.
Look, Uncle Vanya isn't doing anything either.
Just following you about like a shadow.
And I've left my work to come and talk to you.
I've grown quite laxy. I can't help it.
The Doctor, Michail Lvovich,
only used to come and see us very rarely.
Once a month. It was hard to persuade him.
Now he comes here every day.
He's neglecting his forestry and his practice.
You must be a witch.
Why be miserable?
Come, my dear, wonderful woman!
A mermaid's blood flows in your veins, so be a mermaid!
Let yourself go for once in your life, and fall passionately in love with some water sprite,
and plunge headfirst into deep water,
so that the Herr Professor and all of us throw up our hands in amaxement.
Leave me alone!
Oh, this is cruel.
Come.
Come. Forgive me.
My treasure.
I apologixe.
Peace.
You would try the patience of an angel, you know.
As a token of peace,
and harmony,
I'll bring you a bunch of roses.
I've had them ready for you since this morning.
Autumn roses. Exquisite.
Mournful roses.
Hmm.
(Sighs)
Autumn roses.
Exquisite, mournful roses.
It's September already.
How are we going to live through the winter here?
Where's... Where's the Doctor?
In Uncle Vanya's room. Writing.
I am glad Uncle Vanya's gone.
I must have a talk with you. What about?
What about? (Cries) Oh, no. Now, don't.
I'm not goodlooking. You have beautiful hair.
No, no!
When a woman is plain, they always say,
"You have beautiful eyes, you have beautiful hair."
I've loved him now for six years.
I love him more than I did my mother.
Every moment, I seem to hear him,
to feel his hand in mine.
And I look at the door, waiting, expecting him to come in.
Oh, you can see how I keep coming to you just to talk about him.
Now he comes here every day.
But he doesn't look at me,
doesn't see me.
I have no hope at all. None, none!
Oh, Lord, give me strength!
Oh, don't.
I've been praying all night
I often go up to him, start talking to him, look into his eyes.
I have no more pride, no strength left to control myself.
I... couldn't help it.
Yesterday I told Uncle Vanya I am in love.
And all the servants know. Everyone knows.
And he?
He doesn't notice me.
Hmm.
He's a strange man.
I've an idea.
Let me talk to him.
Well, I'll be careful. I'll do it in a roundabout way.
Yes, really. After all, how much longer are you to remain in uncertainty? Now, let me.
Oh, that's fine. It won't be difficult to find out whether he loves you or not.
Oh, darling. Oh, no, now you mustn't feel ashamed.
Don't worry. I'll question him so carefully he won't notice.
All we want to find out is if it's yes or no.
If it's no, he mustn't come here any more, must he?
Well, it would be easier to bear then, if you didn't see him.
Now, we won't put it off. I'll talk to him straight away.
He was going to show me some charts.
Go and tell him I want to see them now.
You will tell me the whole truth? Of course I will.
I think it's better to know the truth, whatever it may be.
Nothing is so dreadful as uncertainty. Now, trust me.
Yes, yes.
I'll tell him you want to see his charts.
No, uncertainty is better.
At least there's some hope. What do you say?
Nothing.
There's nothing worse than knowing someone's secret and not being able to help.
He doesn't love her. Hmm, that's obvious.
Why shouldn't he marry her?
She's not pretty, but she'd make an excellent wife for a country doctor,
at his time of life.
She's intelligent, she's kind and she's pure.
No.
Oh, I understand the poor girl so well.
Amidst all this desperate boredom,
he... appears.
So different from the rest.
Handsome, interesting and attractive.
Like... Oh, like a bright moon rising in the dark.
Oh, to fall under the spell of a man like that.
To forget oneself.
I believe I'm even a little attracted to him.
Yes, I'm bored when he's not about.
And here I am, smiling when I think of him.
Uncle Vanya says I have mermaid's blood in my veins.
"Let yourself go for once in your life."
Perhaps that's what I ought to do.
Oh!
To fly away,
free as a bird!
Away from all of you.
I am timid and shy.
My conscience would drive me to distraction.
He comes here every day.
And I can guess why.
Already I feel guilty.
I want to throw myself on my knees before Sonia and ask her forgiveness, and cry.
Good day to you. Oh!
You wished to see my artistic handiwork?
Yesterday you promised to show me.
Are you free now? But of course.
Thank you.
Ah!
Where were you born? In Petersburg.
Where did you study? At the School of Music.
Ha.
Erm...
I don't suppose this will interest you.
Why not? It's true I don't know the country, but I've read a great deal.
Hmm.
I have a table of my own here. In Vanya's room.
When I am completely exhausted, I escape there and amuse myself for an hour or two with this.
Vanya and Sonia click away at their counting beads and I sit beside them at my table
and, well, mess about with my paints.
It's warm and snug and the cricket sings.
I don't allow myself this pleasure too often, just once a month.
Please. Thank you.
Now... Look here.
It's a map of our district as it was 50 years ago.
The dark and light green stand for forest,
and half of the whole area was covered with forest.
Where there's a sort of network of red over the green, elks and wild goats were common.
I show both the flora and fauna here.
This lake was the home of swans, geese and ducks.
There was a power of birds, as the old people say, of all kinds.
No end of them. They flew in clouds.
Now, as well as the villages and hamlets, you can see all sorts of small settlements,
scattered here and there.
Small farms, monasteries and water mills.
Cattle and horses were numerous. That's shown by the blue color.
For instance, there's a lot of blue in this part of the region.
There were any number of horses there, and every homestead had three, on the average.
Well, let's look lower down.
Now, this is the area as it was 25 years ago.
Already, only a third of the area is under forest.
The goats have disappeared. There are still some elks.
The green and blue colors are paler, and so on.
Now, let's look at the third section.
Now...
This is a map of the area as it is now.
There are still some greens, scattered here and there, but they're only patchy.
Swans, geese, elks and wood grouse have all disappeared.
There isn't a trace of the small farms, water mills, monasteries that were there before.
In general, it's an unmistakable picture of gradual decay,
which will obviously be complete in another ten, fifteen years.
You may say it is the influence of civilixation,
that the old way of life had to give way to the new, and I would agree with you.
But if, on the site of these ruined forests there were now roads and railways,
if there were factories, schools, people would be healthier, better off, educated.
But there's nothing of the sort. There's still the same swamps, mosquitoes, absence of roads.
The entire poverty. Typhus, diphtheria, fires.
We have a picture of decay, due to an insupportable struggle for existence,
to inertia, to ignorance, to utter irresponsibility.
As when a sick, hungry, shivering man, simply to save his life and to protect his children,
instinctively and unconsciously clutches at anything that will satisfy his hunger
and keep him warm, and in so doing, destroys everything without a thought for tomorrow.
And practically everything has been destroyed already.
Nothing has been created in its place.
Erm...
I see from your expression, it doesn't interest you.
Forgive me. I understand so little of all of this.
There's nothing to understand. You're just not interested.
To be perfectly honest, my mind was on something else.
Forgive me, I want to put you through a little interrogation.
But I feel rather embarrassed. I don't know how to begin.
Interrogation? Yes, an interrogation.
Oh, it's a fairly innocent one.
Shall we sit down?
It concerns a certain young person.
Let us talk frankly, like friends, without beating about the bush.
Let us talk it over and forget about it afterwards. Agreed?
Agreed.
The matter concerns my stepdaughter, Sonia.
Tell me, do you like her?
Yes, I respect her.
Do you like her as a woman?
No.
One thing more, and then it'll be over.
Have you noticed nothing?
Nothing.
You don't love her. I can see it from your eyes.
She... She is suffering.
Understand that and... and stop coming here.
My time is over.
I have too much to do, and I am too busy for such things.
Oh, an unpleasant conversation. I feel as though I have been carrying a great weight.
Anyway, we've finished now, thank heaven.
Let's forget it, as if we hadn't talked, and... go away.
You're an intelligent man. You will understand.
Oh, I feel quite flushed.
There's a... If you'd told me a month or two ago, I might perhaps have considered.
But erm... now...
Of course, if she is suffering, then, of course, I will go away.
There's only one thing I don't understand. Why did you have to interrogate me?
(Laughs) Oh, you're a sly one. What does that mean?
You're sly. Suppose Sonia's suffering. I'm prepared to think it probable.
What is the purpose of this cross examination? Don't try to look astonished.
You know perfectly well why I come here every day. Why? You know very well indeed.
You know very well, you wonderful bird of prey.
Don't look at me like that. I'm a wise old sparrow.
Bird of prey? I don't understand... Beautiful weasel, then.
You must have a victim. I've been doing nothing for a month.
I've dropped everything. I seek you out hungrily, and you're awfully pleased about it.
Well, I'm conquered. But you knew that without an interrogation.
I submit. Devour me. You've taken leave of your senses.
Oh, you're coy? Oh, I'm not so mean...
I'll go away today. I won't come again. I won't come.
Just tell me, where shall I see you? Tell me, quickly, where?
And how wonderful, how beautiful you are. One kiss!
If only I could kiss your fragrant hair.
I swear... Don't swear anything.
There's no need for unnecessary words.
How beautiful you are! Just... Your hands! Oh, no, no, that's enough.
Speak, speak, where shall we meet? You see, it's inevitable that we must see each other.
(Footsteps approaching)
Oh, no. No, leave me. Spare me!
Please, come to the plantation tomorrow. Two o'clock, say you'll come.
(Screams) Oh, let me go. Oh, this is dreadful!
Nothing. Yes, nothing.
The weather's not too bad today, my dear Ivan Petrovich.
It was overcast this morning as though it were going to rain, but now it is fine.
It must be admitted that the autumns have turned out very fine,
and the winter corn is quite promising.
Though, er... the days are getting shorter.
You will try, you will do your utmost
to see that my husband and I leave here today for certain.
Do you hear? Today, for certain.
What? Oh, yes, to be sure.
Do you hear? I must leave here.
This very day.
I am not too well myself, Your Excellency.
I've been poorly for the last two days.
Something the matter with my head.
Now where are the others?
Oh, I don't like this house. It's like a sort of a labyrinth.
26 enormous rooms. People wander off in all directions. There's no finding anyone.
Ask Marya Vasilievna and Yeliena Andreyevna to come here.
I am here.
Oh.
Er... Sit down, my friends.
What did he say? Tell me. I'll tell you presently.
You're trembling. You're upset.
I understand. He said he wouldn't be coming here any more.
Yes?
Tell me, yes?
One can put up with ill health after all,
but what I can't endure is the whole pattern of life in the country.
I feel as though I've been cast off on some strange planet.
Er... Please, sit down, my friends.
Please. Sonia!
Sonia!
Oh, she doesn't hear. Erm... You, sit down, too, Nanny.
My friends, lend me your ears.
As the saying goes!
Maybe I am not wanted here. Can I go?
Oh, you're needed more than anyone.
What do you require from me?
Require from you? Why, are you annoyed about something?
If I've offended you in any way, please excuse me.
Don't adopt that tone with me. Let us come to business. Tell me what you want from me.
Ah, there's my wife.
Let me begin, my friends.
I've invited you here, ladies and gentlemen,
to inform you that the Inspector General is coming to visit us.
Joking apart, this is a serious matter.
I have called you together to ask your help and advice.
And knowing how obliging you always are, I hope to receive it.
I am an academic, bookish man, and I've never had anything to do with practical life.
I must have guidance from people better informed than I am.
So I want to ask you, Ivan Petrovich...
and you, Ilya Ilyich, and you, Maman.
Erm... The point is, manet omnes una nox.
We are all mortal. I am old and ill.
And I think it's high time I settled my property insofar as it concerns my family.
My own life is over now.
I'm not thinking of myself, but I have a young wife and an unmarried daughter.
It is impossible for me to go on living in the country.
We are not made for country life.
But to live in town on the income we receive from this estate is also impossible.
Suppose we sold the forest.
That would be an exceptional measure which could not be repeated every year.
We must find means which will guarantee us a permanent, more or less definite income.
One such measure has occurred to me. I would like to submit it for your consideration.
Omitting the details, I will describe it in rough outline.
Our estate yields, on an average, not more than two per cent on its capital value.
I propose we sell it.
If we invest the money in suitable securities,
we should get from four to five per cent.
And I think we might even have a few thousand rubles to spare
to buy a small villa in Finland.
Moment!
Surely I haven't been hearing correctly. Say that again.
I propose investing the money in suitable securities,
and, with whatever is left, buying a villa in Finland.
No, no, not Finland. You said something else.
I propose we sell the estate.
That's it. We sell the estate.
A fine idea. Magnificent.
And where do you propose that I should go with my old mother and Sonia here?
Well, we'll discuss all that in due course. We can't do everything at once.
Wait a moment.
I must have been incredibly stupid all this time.
Up till now, I've been foolish enough to believe that this estate belonged to Sonia.
My father bought it as a dowry for my sister.
I've been too simple, not interpreting the law like a Turk!
I thought that my sister's estate passed to Sonia.
Certainly, the estate belongs to Sonia. Who's disputing it?
Without Sonia's consent, I wouldn't consider selling it.
Besides, I am proposing that it should be sold for Sonia's benefit.
It's inconceivable. Inconceivable!
Either I have gone out of my mind, or...
Jean, don't contradict Alexandr.
Believe me, he knows better than we do what's good for us and what isn't.
No!
Give me some water.
Say whatever you like. Say anything.
I don't understand why you're so upset.
I don't say my plan is ideal.
If everyone thinks it unsuitable, I won't insist on it.
Erm... Towards learning, Your Excellency,
I have not merely a feeling of, er, of reverence,
but a sort of family relationship, as well.
The brother of my brother's wife, Constantin Efemovich Lakedemonoff,
possibly you know him, he was a... Stop, Waffles!
We're talking business. Wait a little. Later.
Here, ask him.
This estate was bought from his uncle.
Indeed.
Why should I ask him? What for?
The estate was bought at the time for 95,000 rubles.
My father only paid 70,000, and 25,000 remained on mortgage.
Now, listen.
This estate would never have been bought if I hadn't given up my inheritance
in favor of my sister, whom I love dearly.
What's more, I worked like an ox for ten years and paid off the whole mortgage.
I wish I'd never started this discussion.
This estate is in good condition and free from debt simply because of my efforts,
and now I'm growing old, I'm to be kicked out!
I don't know what you're driving at. For 25 years I've been managing this estate.
I've been working and sending you money like the most conscientious bailiff,
and not once have you ever thanked me for it.
All this time, both when I was young and now,
you've paid me a salary of 500 rubles a year.
A pittance! And never once have you thought to add a single ruble.
Jean! Ivan Petrovich.
How was I to know? I'm not a practical man, I don't understand these matters.
You could have taken as much as you liked. Oh, yes.
Why didn't I steal?
Why don't you all laugh at me because I didn't steal?
It would have been fair, and I wouldn't have been a pauper now.
Jean! Vanya, don't! I'm all of a tremble.
We're all on such good terms here. Don't spoil it. You mustn't.
For 25 years I sat here with my mother,
devoting all our thoughts and feelings to you.
By day we thought of you. We talked of you and your works.
We were proud of you. We uttered your name with reverence.
We wasted our lives reading books and magaxines which now...
I don't know what it is you want. You're a being of a higher order.
We knew all your articles by heart.
But now my eyes are opened, I see it all.
All your works, which I used to love, aren't worth two kopeks.
You have deceived us! Oh, do make him stop.
I insist that you stop! Jean!
I will not be silent! Wait, I haven't finished yet.
You have ruined my life. I haven't lived. I have not lived.
Thanks to you, I have destroyed, I have annihilated the best years of my life.
You are my worst enemy. I can't bear it.
What right have you to speak to me like this? You nonentity!
If the estate is yours, keep it. I don't need it.
I'm going away from this hell this very minute. I can't stand it any longer!
You have ruined my life! I had talent, courage, intelligence.
if I'd lived a normal life, I might have been a Dostoevsky.
Oh, I'm talking rubbish.
Mother, I'm in despair. Mother!
Do as Alexander tells you. Nanny! Nanny!
Mother, tell me what to do. What can I do?
No, I know what I must do.
You'll remember me.
Oh, Jean. Jean!
What does he mean by this behavior?
Send the madman away. I won't stay under the same roof with him.
He lives there, almost next door to me.
Make him move to the village or into the lodge, or I'll move.
I'll not stay in the same house with him. We'll leave here today.
We'll make plans immediately. That nonentity!
You must have pity, Papa.
Uncle Vanya and I are so unhappy.
You must have pity.
Remember when you were younger,
Uncle Vanya and Grandmama used to spend whole nights translating books for you.
Copying your manuscripts. Whole nights on end. Whole nights.
Uncle Vanya and I worked without rest.
We were afraid to spend a penny on ourselves and sent it all to you.
We really did earn our daily bread.
I am saying it all wrong. All wrong.
But you must understand us, Papa.
You must have pity.
Oh, Alexandr, for heaven's sake, go and talk it over with him. I beseech you.
Very well. I'll talk to him now.
I'm not accusing him of anything. I... I'm not angry.
But you must agree with me that his behavior is very strange, to say the least of it.
Please... Very well. I'll go and see him.
Oh, be as gentle as you can.
Try to reassure him.
Nanny, Nanny! Oh, never mind, child.
The ganders will cackle a bit and then leave off.
They'll cackle and leave off.
Nanny! Ooh! Ooh!
You're shivering as though you were out in a frost.
Ah, there, there, my little orphan. God is merciful.
A drink of lime flower tea or hot raspberry and it will pass.
Now, don't get so upset, my little orphan.
(Angry voices) Oh, the row they're making, the ganders!
No, don't! (Scream)
(Gunshot) Oh, drat them!
Stop him, he's gone mad! Help! Stop him!
(Vanya) Come back!
(Women wailing)
Give it to me. Give it to me, I tell you. No!
Let me go!
Where is he?
Ah, there he is!
Oh, Jean! Jean!
Bang! (Screams)
Missed.
Missed again.
Damnation! Devil... Devil take it!
Take me away from here. Take me away.
What have I done? What am I doing? Nanny! Dear Nanny.
Hurry up, Marina Timofeevna.
They'll soon be calling us to say goodbye.
They've ordered the horses to be brought round.
There isn't much left.
They're going to Kharkoff. They're to live there.
That'll be much better. Mmm, they've had a fright.
Yeliena Andreyevna keeps saying, "I won't stay here another hour.
"Let's get away. Let's get away.
"When we've lived in Kharkoff for a bit and had a look round,
"we'll send for our things," she says.
We'll live again as we used to. In the old way.
Morning tea soon after seven, dinner at twelve.
And we'll sit down to supper in the evenings.
Everything as it should be. Just like other people.
Like Christians.
Ah, it's a long time since I've tasted noodles, sinner that I am.
Yes, it is a long time since they gave us noodles for dinner.
A long time.
Marina Timofeevna, as I was walking in the village this morning,
the shopkeeper shouted out at me, "You scrounger, living on other people."
I was so hurt. You shouldn't take any notice.
We all live on God.
You and Sonia and Ivan Petrovich are just the same.
None of us sit with folded hands. We are all working, all of us.
Where is Sonia?
In the garden with the Doctor, looking for Ivan Petrovich.
They're afraid he may do himself harm.
But where's his pistol?
I've hidden it in the cellar.
What goingson!
Leave me alone.
Leave me alone. Please go away, if only for an hour. I can't stand being watched.
Certainly, Vanya.
You old gander. Ga ga ga!
Leave me alone.
With the greatest pleasure. I ought to have left hours ago.
But I repeat, I am not going until you give me back what you took from me.
I didn't take anything. I'm serious. Don't keep me waiting.
I haven't taken anything from you.
No?
Well, I'll wait a little longer,
then I'm sorry, I'll have to use force.
We'll tie your hands and we'll search you. I'm speaking absolutely in earnest.
As you please.
To have made such a fool of myself, to have fired twice and missed both times.
I shall never forgive myself.
If you really felt like shooting someone, you'd have done better to take a potshot at yourself.
It's strange. I tried to commit murder,
yet no one arrests me, no one charges me with anything.
It can only mean they must think I'm a madman.
I'm mad, but those who conceal their utter lack of talent, their dullness, their heartlessness,
behind the mask of a professor, a learned quack...
they aren't mad.
Women aren't mad, who marry old husbands and then deceive them for everyone to see.
I saw you with your arms round her! I saw it.
Yes, I put my arms round her, which is more than you did.
The world must be mad to let you go on living.
Now you're being silly. I'm mad. Irresponsible.
I have a right to say silly things. You're not mad. You're simply a crank.
A silly fool.
I used to think all cranks were ill or abnormal.
Now I believe it's perfectly normal for a man to be a crank. You're perfectly normal.
I feel so ashamed. If only you knew how ashamed I feel.
It's worse than any pain. It's unbearable.
What am I to do? What can I do?
Nothing.
Give me something.
Good God, I am 47. If I live to be 60, I've another 13 years.
How am I to get through them? How do I fill my time?
What can I do?
Oh, don't you see?
Don't you see? If only we could live the rest of our life in some new way.
To wake up on a clear, calm morning, and feel that we were starting our lives over again,
and that all our past was... blown away,
like smoke, all forgotten.
To begin a new life. Tell me how! What with?
Oh, get away with you. A new life, indeed.
Our situation is hopeless, yours and mine.
Do you mean that? I'm certain of it.
Give me something.
I've a burning sensation here... Stop it!
The people who come after us in a hundred, two hundred years,
and despise us for having lived in so stupid and tasteless a fashion,
perhaps they'll find a way to be happy.
But as for us,
there is only one hope for you and me.
That is, that when we're at rest in our graves, we may have visions of that future.
In the whole of this province there have only been two decent, cultured men. You and me.
But ten years of this contemptible routine, this trivial provincial life,
have swallowed us up and bottled and poisoned our blood.
Until now, we've become as petty as the rest.
Don't talk your way out of it. Give me back what you took from me.
I didn't take anything. You took a bottle of morphia out of my chest.
Now look here, if you insist on putting an end to yourself,
go off into the woods and shoot yourself there, but give me back the morphia.
Else there will be suspicion and talk. People will think I've given it to you.
It'll be quite enough to have to do your postmortem.
You think I'll find that interesting? (Footsteps)
Leave me alone!
Sofia Alexandrovna, your uncle has stolen a bottle of morphia and won't give it back.
Will you tell him it's not a bit clever, and I haven't the time to waste? I ought to be going.
Please.
Uncle Vanya, did you take the morphia?
He did. I'm certain of it.
Give it back.
Why frighten us like this?
Give it back, Uncle Vanya.
I dare say I'm just as unhappy as you are.
But I don't despair. I bear it.
And I shall continue to bear it until my life comes to its natural end.
You must bear it, too.
Give it back.
My dear, kind uncle,
give it up, dear.
You're so good.
I know you'll have pity on us and give it back.
You'll have to bear it, Uncle.
You must.
Here, take it. But I must occupy myself with something, I must work.
All right, go on. Go on.
Yes, work, work. As soon as we've seen the others off, we'll settle down to work.
We've been neglecting everything.
Well, now I can be on my way.
(Yeliena) Ivan Petrovich, are you here?
I...
We're just going. See Alexandr. He wants to say something to you.
Come along, Uncle Vanya. You and Papa must make it up.
It's essential.
I am going away. Goodbye.
Already? The horses are waiting.
Goodbye.
You promised me today you would go away.
I haven't forgotten. I am just going.
Did you take fright? Was it so frightening?
Yes.
Why not stay, all the same?
Tomorrow, at the plantation... No, it's settled.
I'm looking at you so fearlessly now just because it is settled.
I ask only one thing of you.
Think better of me. I should like you to respect me.
Ha!
Do stay, I beg you.
You must admit that you have nothing whatever to do,
nothing in life to occupy your mind,
so that sooner or later, you're bound to give way to your feelings.
It's inevitable.
And better not in Kharkoff or somewhere down in Kursk,
but down here in the lap of nature.
At least it's poetical here.
Even the autumns are beautiful.
There are forestry plantations and halfruined country houses in the Turgenev style.
How absurd you are.
I am angry with you.
And yet, I shall remember you with pleasure.
You're an interesting, original man.
We shall never see each other again.
So why conceal it?
You did turn my head a little.
Come, let us shake hands and part friends.
Think well of me.
Yes.
You'd better go.
You're so good and warmhearted.
Yet there is something strange about you.
You come here with your husband,
and all of us here, who'd been working, trying to create something, running round,
all of us had to drop everything and occupy ourselves solely with you,
and... and your husband's gout.
You two infected us with your indolence.
I was attracted by you. I haven't done anything for a whole month.
In the meantime, people have been ill,
and the peasants have been using my plantation of young trees as pasture for their cattle.
You see, wherever you and your husband go, you bring destruction with you.
I'm only joking, of course.
But all the same, it is strange.
I believe that if you had stayed on here, the devastation would have been immense.
I'd have been ruined, you wouldn't have fared too well either.
Go, then. Finita la comedia!
I'm taking this pencil as a keepsake.
While there's no one here, before Uncle Vanya comes in again with a bunch of flowers,
just allow me to... just kiss you goodbye, yes?
There.
I... wish you every happiness.
Well, for once in my life...
I must be off. Finita.
Alexandr, I'm so happy. Fare thee well.
Let bygones be bygones.
I've lived through so much in the last few hours,
I believe I could write a whole treatise on the art of living for the benefit of posterity.
I gladly accept your apologies, and I ask you to forgive me too.
Goodbye.
You will be receiving the same amount as before, regularly.
Everything shall be as it was.
Maman.
Alexandr, do have your photograph taken again and send it to me.
You know how much you mean to me.
Goodbye, Your Excellency. Don't... Goodbye.
Maman.
Goodbye, everyone. I thank you for the pleasure of your society.
I respect your attitude of mind, your enthusiasms, your impulses,
but permit an old man to add one observation to his farewell.
You must try to do real work, my friends.
Yes, real work.
I wish you all happiness and good fortune.
Goodbye, Your Excellency.
Goodbye.
Forgive me.
We shall never meet again.
Goodbye,
dear Ivan Petrovich.
Ah, Waffles, would you mind telling them to bring my horses round?
Certainly, my dear friend. Thank you.
Aren't you going to see them off?
Let them go.
My heart is too heavy.
I must occupy myself with something. Work, work.
(Carriage pulling away) Goodbye, Your Excellency.
They've gone.
The Professor's glad, I dare say.
Wild horses wouldn't drag him back.
They've gone.
God grant them a safe journey.
Well, Uncle Vanya, let's start.
Work, work...
First of all, Uncle, let's make out the bills. We've neglected it all dreadfully.
Someone sent for his account again today.
You make it out. While you do one, I'll do another.
It's a long, long time since we sat at this table, just the two of us.
There doesn't seem to be any ink.
But I feel sad now they've gone.
Gone.
I feel like going to bed.
"Delivered to..."
How quiet it is.
The pens scratch.
The cricket sings.
It's warm and snug in there.
Oh, I don't want to go.
(Carriage bells rattle)
Ah, my horses.
Well, my friends, it only remains for me to say goodbye to you all,
goodbye to my desk, and be off.
Why are you in such a hurry? You might as well stay.
I can't.
"Remaining to your debit,
"two rubles, seventyfive kopeks."
Michail Lvovich, the horses are ready. I heard them.
Take that.
And that.
Don't bend the portfolio. Very good, sir.
Here.
Thank you.
Well... When shall we see you again?
Oh, not before next summer. Hardly in the winter.
Of course, if anything happens, you'll let me know and I'll come along.
Thank you for your hospitality, for your kindness. For everything, in fact.
Bye.
Goodbye.
Bye.
Goodbye, Nanny. So you're going before you've had any tea.
I don't want any.
Perhaps you'd like a drop of vodka.
Well, perhaps.
(Sighs)
One of my horses went lame yesterday.
I noticed it when Petrushka took her to water.
You must change its shoes. Hmm.
I'll have to call in at the blacksmith's.
It can't be helped.
(Whistles)
I suppose down there in Africa the heat must be terrific now.
Yes, very likely.
There you are.
Good health, my dear.
Oh, you should take some bread with this. No, this will be all right.
Good luck to you all, my friends.
Don't come out to the door, nurse. There's no need.
February 2nd. Linseed oil, ten jars.
February 16th. Linseed oil again.
Ten jars.
Buckwheat.
(Carriage clattering)
He's gone.
Total... 25...
(Mutters)
Lord, forgive us our sins.
(Tuning guitar)
My child,
how my heart aches.
If you only knew... how my heart aches.
But what can we do?
We must go on living.
We shall go on living, Uncle Vanya.
We shall live through a long, long chain of days,
and weary evenings.
We shall suffer patiently the trials which fate sends us.
We shall work for others,
now and in our old age.
And we shall have no rest.
When our time comes, we shall die submissively.
And there, beyond the grave,
we shall say that we've suffered,
that we've wept, that life has been bitter,
and God will take pity on us.
And then, Uncle, dear,
we shall begin to know a life which is bright, lovely and beautiful.
We shall rejoice, you and I,
and look back at these troubles of ours with tenderness,
with a smile.
And we shall have rest.
I believe it, Uncle.
I believe it fervently, passionately.
We shall have rest.
We shall rest.
We shall hear the angels.
We shall see the heavens, covered with stars like diamonds.
And we shall see all earthly evil,
all our sufferings swept away,
with a grace which will fill the whole world.
And our lives will become gentle...
...peaceful...
...and sweet as a caress.
I believe it.
I do believe it.
My poor Uncle Vanya.
You've had no joy in your life.
But wait, Uncle Vanya.
Wait, Uncle, dear.
We shall rest.
(Watchman's rattle clapping)
We shall rest.