Lenin in Paris (1981) Movie Script

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We were approaching Paris.
How much this city has experienced,
how many uprisings, coronations, barricades,
how many hopes, chimeras,
despairs and jubilations. How many generations of
people lived under this massive roof?
How many liars and righteous people.
These houses have seen it all. The
Gare du
Nord is one of the oldest
station buildings in Paris.
This is where the routes
connecting the capital of France with our
country begin and end. And so, it was here that
Lenin so often hurried to catch the evening train
to drop the
next article for the party newspaper into the mailbox of the mail car. And
those whom he had been waiting for from Russia in the distant
years of his exile also came to
this station. We felt it necessary to
go through this journey ourselves in order to understand,
feel, and experience the fate of
some of the heroes of our future
story. We came out to the square,
no one met us, and no one was supposed to
meet us.
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I went out to the square. It was spring. The
year was 1911. Nobody met me. No
one was supposed to meet him. In
Russia they gave me 60 francs and an
address written in French.
The carriage was not from St. Petersburg. The cabbie wears a top hat and a
long whip, like in a circus. I didn't
know whether it was close to me or far away. We started to
bargain with him.
This Parisian Vanka first demanded
so much from me
that I almost died of fear. Judging by the price, it
turned out that either he was a scammer, or it was
really far away.
In the end we somehow managed to get along.
And our rider began to move away along the streets,
squares and boulevards, which looked
[music] then just like on those old
postcards or paintings of artists.
His route was long, across the entire city, and
it ended at number four on
Marie Rose Street.
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It turns out it really isn't close.
We hung around some
park for a long time before we found it.
I was so worried about whether I would find it or not
that I didnt even understand what
Paris was like.
The driver wanted to rip me off another 20
centimes. It was visible from a distance, but I was
stubborn. If you asked for so much, then so
be it. A
woman answered my call. I
said Syo Ulyanov in a questioning tone. A
stream of words came crashing down on me in response.
Only later did I learn that such
shapeshifters are found everywhere in Paris and
that they are called concierges. And all of them,
like this [music] madam, are at a respectable
age well over 50. And it is dangerous
to enter into conversation with them, especially when you
are in a hurry, because each of them
will tell you about their late husband,
children, [music] illnesses, the prices of meat,
vegetables and soles, before they answer
properly.
I didnt understand anything [music] until after
finishing her thrashing she showed me
three fingers up, which apparently meant the third
floor. A
woman opened the door for me and was obviously very
happy.
I was glad myself, because I thought that they were
nt waiting for me.
She said that she herself was not at home, but that I should
not be embarrassed to pass by.
Come here. I can't move away. I'm fiddling with the
scrambled eggs.
I put it for you too. They must have
gotten hungry on the road. It is what it is
. Yesterday evening
I finished the bread and sausage. Still need
to stock up in St. Petersburg. We have
n't eaten anything since yesterday. Right now, right
now.
Come here.
Sit down.
And where are you?
He's not in now.
Eat.
And excuse me, who will you be?
I am a wife. It's
clear.
Wife.
I was told about her in St. Petersburg that she is a
wonderful worker. But from the outside it doesn't look like
anything special. A wife is like a wife.
Well, how do you like the fried eggs? Just right
.
That's good.
I must apologize to you. I'm in a
hurry, I'm late for my
French lesson.
And when will comrade Ilyin come?
Only in the evening. Every morning he
works at the National Library, and
the commute is long and runs through the entire city. And
there is no point in returning home during the day.
Moreover, today he is in a hurry
to finish an article about the Paris Commune.
It must be published in Russia by the fortieth anniversary of this event. The
memory of the fighters of the Commune is honored not only by
French workers, but also by
the proletariat of the entire world, for the Commune
fought not for some local or
narrow national task, but for the
liberation of all working
humanity, all the humiliated and
insulted.
pictures of her life and death, the sight of the workers'
government that captured and held the
capital of the world in its hands for over two months, the spectacle of the heroic
struggle of the proletariat and its suffering
after defeat. All this raised the spirit of
millions of workers, aroused their hopes
and attracted their sympathies to the side of
socialism. That is why the Commune's cause did not
die. It still lives in each of
us. The
cause of the Commune is the cause of social
revolution. The
cause of complete political and
economic liberation of the workers
is the cause of the world proletariat.
And in this sense it is immortal.
Vladimir Ilyevich will be very pleased with your
arrival. Pitichay.
Thank you.
He was the first one to arrive at our school.
We were informed of his arrival, but we
knew very little about him. Surname Trafimov,
Nickname Poet.
They knew that he was a worker at Three Hills. The
last time someone was arrested in Presnya was in the
fifth year. He served in prison companies in
Perm. Then he was exiled to the Tobolsk
province, but fled before reaching his destination.
Be prepared for Vladimir Ilyevich to
question you in detail about all
Russian affairs.
What is there to tell?
Things, I'll tell you frankly, are not very cheerful.
To be honest, I dont understand why I
came here. After all, there, in Russia, every
person counts, but here its some kind of
school. Well, is it time for that now?
You know, this is a long conversation. Not on
the move, of course. Let's put it aside for a while. They
will come for you soon and arrange for you to
live. Please
forgive me for saying this. Nothing can
be done.
Vladimir Ilyich categorically asked that
I definitely learn French.
Goodbye, Alexander.
Goodbye. The
organ-organ played twice.
The sound was similar to ours, but not as
pitiful.
They lived rather poorly. The
best room [music] was given to the
mother-in-law. It was light there,
calm and neat in an old woman's way. The
large room was piled high with books.
Apparently, not all are Russian.
On the table there are foreign newspapers [music] and a
lot of all sorts of writing.
It's noticeable that they work a lot here, but there's
no homework involved.
And the bedroom is just
like my mansion in the last
prison.
I opened [music] the door. In front of me
was a lady in a French-
style hat.
"My name is Inessa," she said,
extending her hand to me.
Apparently, she was a businesslike person.
First of all, she went into the office, brought
the mail to the owners, put it on the table, and then
announced that she had come for me in order to
arrange for me to live there.
She looked me up and down and
said, "Okay, that'll do. In Paris, no one
pays attention to anything. You can run as
fast as you can." Only, only
[music] Kartuz. What cap? I didn't understand.
She explained that here too, around people like
us, they were snooping around, where did the
Tsars spies come from?
And such a Russian cap
will be noticed in an instant. "But we'll sort this out quickly,"
she said. I obediently followed her.
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Everything here was alien to my
charge.
I tried to interest him in the successes of
Russian ballet, which had
driven the entire French public crazy. But
he only grumbled sullenly something about the
lord's plans and that he was not at all in the mood for dancing
.
The operation to replace the cortex went
smoothly,
but then a much more noisy event happened
that seriously touched him. Do
n't interfere.
At first, I must admit, I envied these
guys who so cleverly robbed the
capitalists at the bank in broad daylight, but it
turned out that I had cheated. Comrade
Inasa immediately explained to me that they were
not revolutionaries, even though they called
themselves anarchists. Leader Bano came up with
the slogan "everything for individuals", so
they are as useful to our cause as a goat is to
milk. And there is a lot of harm.
Three innocent bank employees have already been killed.
And the bourgeoisie is raging, frightening the people with
these bandits. This is what
your revolution leads to.
Certainly. Many things may seem unusual and even strange to a
visitor
to an unfamiliar city.
From my experience of wandering, I knew how
difficult it is to get used to new places and customs in the first hours, days, and sometimes
even months. It was
necessary to find a
cheap and safe shelter for Trafimov. I
thought I found him here. Under
the sign Hotel Mimi, rooms are rented for
a month, a week, or a day. This is where
he was to begin his French
life.
The next morning, almost early in
the morning, a
quick, smiling man appeared on my top. I
had heard of him before, although he was not that well
known. Some called him Ilyan, others
Tulin, and others Lenin. And his real
surname, they say, was Ulyanov.
He was also called Ilichm. And thats why I assumed that it was an older man
, perhaps even an
old man. But he was strong, durable, in his prime
. No demolition. Although
he is short, he has a large forehead,
reddish hair, and a complex eye.
He immediately grabbed hold of me. He
needed to know everything about Russian affairs. Everything
interested him. He was picky about every little detail.
I laid it out as is. and about prisons, and
about the fact that things are salty. But
our brother, the Russian proletarian, is not so
easy to bend, I said at the
end to encourage him. He
also revealed to him that he had not come here
for personal reasons. When they sent me away,
I immediately asked: "Where should I go?
Why?
I didn't flee exile to
wander around Paris. What kind of
school is that? We need to make a revolution, not just
chat." To this he objected that a
revolution must be made skillfully. And to do
this, it is worth learning from history and knowing
its laws. By the way, he said that there is a small
museum nearby that he himself had been meaning to go to for a
long time. I do
nt promise you any masterpieces of art, but its an interesting spectacle.
If you happen to be in
France, it wouldn't hurt for you to learn
a little about its past.
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Okay, let's take a look at the catalog.
Before us is a concert in the boudoir of the
king's favorite, 15th century on the throne of Louis XV. The
same fruit that said: "After us, the
flood."
Remarkable wax figures. What is
immobility? Confidence in the power of
one's authority. Olympus. Interesting.
Not too much. What do
I need this Louis for?
Anaton, my dear friend. Lest we
forget that the next Louis had
his head chopped off by the revolution, and the whole of Talim
went up in smoke. So much for
the serenity of Madame Pompadour's salon.
And here is Joan of Arc, the peasant woman who saved
France and rescued the king. And, of course,
this king betrayed her as soon as he could
stop himself. It is shocking how
despots have a brutal tendency to betray those who
serve them.
Now look, you and I were just
courting in the salon of the favorite, so to
speak, at the origins. And here is the
result for you.
That same flood. Have
you heard of Mara? I have
had to. In the face of revolution. Here
, my dear comrade,
we see once again how the
obscurantists and shopkeepers deal with the Jacobins.
Basically, it's the same story as with Joan of Arc.
Marat was rightly called a friend of
the people, and he was killed by Charlotte Kordaya,
sent by the enemies of the revolution. It was in
this very bathtub that he was stabbed to death. Although
everything he said
was probably useful in its own way, I
confess that I suddenly felt out of place.
Once again, something has come crashing down on me that I myself had so recently
seen, that I myself had experienced, that is still
burning there, in my homeland.

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Sabbath,
what did you say?
I say: "Shabash, let's get out of here."
Excuse me, why?
Because all this is pointless. You
understand, its no use.
What exactly? All these
wax kings are cuckoo.
They dont care about us, about
how we live, about what we suffer from. It was as if I was
looking into the water when I refused to
come here. When I think that my
comrades are now, Im
looking at some bathtub here. Please understand. It is not
we who need to go here, but you who need to go there. You
must act, and not
sit in libraries or museums. I don't give a damn about
that story, those wax
dolls. Farewell.
Yesterday, when he returned home, Volodya
told me about the story at the
wax museum and how he was taken aback by
Trofimovs sudden attack. He even spoke
with humor. But only today, when we
were going to visit Flafarks wife, I
felt from his mood how
deeply and sharply this
lack of understanding of the meaning of our entire
life here had struck Volodya. The
scale of his daily
work on the theoretical understanding of the
new revolutionary onslaught was enormous.
Participation in the work of the International
Socialist Bureau was combined with
the organization of the transport of illegal
literature to Russia. the activities of the Central Committee of the
Social Democratic Party, the convening of its
fifth all-Russian conference, and the
leadership of its faction in the State
Duma. All this and much more was
interspersed with reports, discussions, and
participation in many political
demonstrations of the French proletariat.
With incredible difficulty he established the
publication of a Russian workers' newspaper here. Every
day an article, sometimes two.
That is why Trofimovs reproach touched him so deeply
.
After all, there was no one in the emigration
who was so eager to get to Russia as he was.
To Russia.
We have discussed this issue with him more than once. Is
n't that where he belongs? Of course, they are there here
, on these foreign roads. It seemed that
Trafimov was right, because duty
and conscience demanded it. But wouldn't such a
return be an act of despair, a fruitless act of
courage, an inevitable, quick arrest, a
prison sentence for many years,
time wasted in vain? Wouldn't that simply mean a
voluntary surrender, more dishonest?
It is precisely by the call of duty and conscience that we
remain in Paris for the time being in order to
expand the fighting core of the party in the shortest possible time
, arming it with new tactics in the
new conditions of struggle.
So what? Return to Russia or
maybe move somewhere
closer to Russia?
So, lost in our thoughts, we almost
missed the turnoff to Dravel, a town
located twenty miles from
Paris. There was the final destination of our
trip.
Volodya had long been planning to see
Polyafargue, one of the most famous
representatives of the French socialists.
Having retired from business due to age, he lived
here with his wife Laura, the
daughter of Karl Marx.
She greeted us warmly, showed us
where we could park our bicycles, and
invited us into the house.
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owner himself was waiting for us in the office.
He was a handsome, grey-haired man,
aging, but still quite free in his
movements.
Knowing that our men would certainly
delve into the depths of philosophy, Laura
invited me to take a walk around the garden.
She said that in her later years she and the
field came to appreciate the joy [music] that
communication with nature brings to a person.
I haven't been as nervous as I was during
this walk for a long time. After all, Marx's daughter was next to me
.
For Volodya, who was not very fond of
the leaders of the French [music] socialists
and often criticized them, scolded them, and scolded them in every way
possible, Lafarque was an undoubted
authority,
one of the few whom he treated with
sincere respect.
Although Lafarco did not read Russian.
Volodya brought him his new
work, materialism and emperiocriticism, as a gift.
In it he quoted extensively from
Lafargue's article entitled [music]
Marx's materialism and Kant's idealism.
And so, having found an ally in the fight against the
distorters of Marxism, he with obvious
pleasure inscribed his book to him [music]
.
I looked into Lauras face,
searching for Marxs features. And since
she really was similar to
my father in some ways, I somehow became embarrassed and, in my
embarrassment, mumbled something
inarticulate about the role of women in the
Russian revolutionary movement.
It must have sounded like some kind of
stupid report, because Laura
looked at me strangely several times
.
Later Volodya told me that he was
very pleased with his conversation with
Lafargue. This
meeting [music] even helped him in some way
to gain a new charge of faith in the common cause.
At parting [music] Paul said:
"A true revolutionary has only
one enemy who is
capable of breaking him."
We realized what he meant by this much
later.
And Laura suddenly uttered a phrase
that I later remembered for a long time, but
[the music] did not understand it then and was unable to
appreciate its full tragic meaning.
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We had no idea that this meeting could
be [music] the last.
On the way back, Volodya was cheerful and
inspired.
Maryhlundia aside. He said that
people like Lafargue were the spiritual
lever of the revolution. This is the moral
foundation on which it grows.
And these thoughts strengthened his faith in the
proletariat of France, his faith in its future.
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Then at the trial this vikon
also raged for the devil's sake, but they forced him
to pay the fine.
In the meantime, Volodya had to ride to the
library on my bike.
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In accordance with your Excellencys order,
I continue my regular reports on the
state of the mood and affairs in the
social democratic
Russian-Parisian circles at the current
moment. The other day, another crowd of about 35 people gathered at the caf on Avenue
Dorlian, Building 11.
Principal Ulyanov himself made the report.
"The party," he said, "has two abscesses:
liquidators and enviers. We must
get rid of both." A
heated debate ensued, from
which, in order not to tire your
Excellency, I will cite only the most
significant tirades.
We believe that the hope for a revival of
the revolution, I emphasize, the hope for a
revival of the revolution is completely
unfounded. And a
harmful one at that, I ask you to speak.
What does it mean? That is, as I
explain without reason,
I explain.
The events of recent years
speak eloquently in favor of my words. The
Russian working class will
not soon recover from this
catastrophic defeat. The party
was defeated.
This is not true. We do
n't have the strength for political struggle.
Therefore, we need to come out
from underground.
Only economic demands, only
reforms.
The party must be legal.
Swedish chatter. No legality.
The Bolsheviks must boycott the
Black Hundred Duma. We are only for the
underground.
Reconciliation is impossible.
Impossible. Do
you want to destroy the party?
And I'll tell you this.
You're arguing here to the point of almost a fight.
Liquidators, envious, conciliators.
And I, if you like, am neither one nor the other, nor the
third.
I'm on the plevist.
On the plevist, you understand? I don't give a damn about either
legality or underground activity. I'm
tired of it. I just want to
live and that's it. Well
, comrades,
when we had a locomotive, let's
agree to call our revolutionary
movement that,
we had a very serious disagreement
about whether
the strength of the entire locomotive and its
fuel supply corresponded to a speed of, say, 25-50 hp per
hour.
But when the Locomotive happened to suffer a
breakdown, when it lies in the swamp,
surrounded by such slandering
and reservation-loving intellectuals, who
are lying about the fact
that there is nothing to liquidate
, because the locomotive no longer exists,
then we must, without renouncing anything
and without forgetting anything, direct all
efforts to raise the locomotive,
renew it, strengthen it and install it.
When suddenly the door of Nastish appears one of the
leaders jealous with their
supporters. Demanded to speak out of
turn. He was refused. Then his guys
started to knock over chairs. But the
cafe owner, accustomed to the fights of the timid,
turned off the light. With
this I will allow myself to conclude my
message, which will be gratifying for every
true patriot.
I dare to add that I am in the
very nest of the Bolsheviks.
Taking into account the
danger that is constantly threatening me in this regard, I
ask you to petition for an increase in my
allowance to 300 rubles. per month.
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all around, big Paris was noisy, glittering, living its
restless life [music]
. And no one in it cared about the
strife among some insignificant
group of migrants.
The city celebrated the
Maslenitsa festival of Mordigra with a traditional carnival.
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Only 3 years [music] remained until
the beginning of the First World War.
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That night after the scandal in the cafe,
Ilish walked alone for a long time around Paris, and I
metal. through the rooms waiting for him.
When he returned home, his face was gone
, everything was black, even his lips were black.
He went into the bedroom.
I wrote letters to my comrades in Russia and
heard him sigh and cough.
To everyone he always seemed calm and
unperturbed, but only I knew how
painfully and intensely he experienced everything.
Never before has the party been in such a
desperate situation.
The Moscow committee was arrested 11 times, the
St. Petersburg one 16.
The situation could not be worse.
Here in emigration there are squabbles, scandals, fuss,
gloating, gossip. My nerves were on edge. It's
unbearable not in Magota. The
Russian working class will not soon
recover from this catastrophic
defeat.
The party was defeated.
Reconciliation is impossible.
Impossible. Do
you want to destroy the party?
And I, if you like, am neither one thing nor the other, nor the
third. I don't care
. I don't
give a damn, you understand? I don't care, I wanted both
legality and underground. I'm tired of it. Are
you awake? - I asked. Im sleeping,
he answered in an even voice. You're the
only one who doesn't sleep at night.
And I continued to write and write to St. Petersburg,
Kaluga, Perm, Teflis.
Sometimes I got an answer, and sometimes I
got nothing.
And then we understood what it meant.
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It must be assumed that there is no visitor to Paris
who has not been eventually
brought to Manmartre.
Inessa dragged me there.
Although on this particular day I felt
unwell. My head was splitting desperately.
Besides, someone, probably Krupskaya,
told Inesa about the incident in the
damned museum.
And so she pulled me all the way,
fried me, turned me over [music] and
fried me again.
She said that you have to be the last
fool not to understand the
incredible work that Lenin is doing here
. You must be a complete idiot.
She may have even told the blockheads
not to see how, step by step,
he was creating an amazing strategy for a new
attack.
And its time for me to realize
that the time has come when its important to
pore over philosophy, because the
purity of our ideas and the search for new means of
struggle come to the forefront.
Ines [music] was so passionate and so
sweet
and so protective of Ilyin, calling him
Ilch, that I immediately vowed to overcome,
although not in one sitting, his
philosophical book. and be diligent in the
French lessons
that she took on to teach me.
Lep
le
bread.
Rabbit bread.
How's that for a
blooper?
Blooper. What a blooper.
Rabbit.
Blooper.
Lyars.
Street. Ry.
Ryu.
Ry.
Ryu. And the street.
la maison. A
house, or what? Yes.
Suk sugar. [music]
Syuk.
Silvouple,
please.
Thank you.
How do you say thank you? Merci
.
Well, that's our way.
What province are you from?
I was born in Paris. Wow
.
Yes, it is true.
And who are your parents?
My parents were, well, how can I put it, my
father was an opera artist,
my mother gave singing lessons.
So you are from Paris. Well, and then?
What next?
Well, after Paris.
Let's continue our lesson.
And yet I got something out of her [music]
of what happened next. My father died early.
The aunt, who went to Russia as a governess,
took her with her. In Moscow they ended up in the
house of a rich man, Armand. When she grew up to 19,
she married his eldest son.
Then she fell in love with her husband's younger brother, but
he soon fell ill with sneezing and died in her
arms.
I diligently continued to write out
foreign words and at the same time thought,
how could this daughter of a singer, the daughter-in-law of a
Moscow rich man, a Frenchwoman in a fashionable
hat join the revolution, and even
the Bolsheviks? What brought her here? What
guided?
Well, my dear Trafimov, let's not
delve into my biography, otherwise we won't
get anywhere.
You didn't remember anything anyway.
Well, why nothing?
Pen is bread, and lyap
is a rabbit. Yes. Yes.
Well, here are
the rooms of the
shamb.
Tab is
now a
table.
Table.
Table.
I was ready to grab the whole bunch at once and,
forgetting about [music] my budget, I was already
reaching for the francs. But Inessa got ahead of me
.
My God, she was so beautiful. I
immediately wanted to write her a poem, but I
felt worse and worse and couldnt
think of a single rhyme.
How old do you think she is? She
looks about 100 years old.
No, Mademoiselle Mireille is no more than
fifty.
She was born here in Montmartre. Here,
in 1971, as a little girl, I
fought to defend the commune. The Versailles people
shot her father. She herself was
wounded in the leg. Since then she has been dating them and
lives alone. We still call her
Mademoiselle Mireille. To
tell you the
truth [music], I was very surprised that
these battles, about which I had read and
heard so much in prisons, took place right here. The
Versailles people stormed into Paris.
In May they attacked Manmart. Unexpectedly,
from the northern side, the Prussians let them
through their positions.
Thiers gave Bismarck a large bribe for this. The
Versailles forces surrounded Manmartre.
The forces were too unequal. Dombrovsky died here
.
Louise Michel fought here.
She was nicknamed the Red Virgin of Montmartre.
The Communards fought to the end, to the last
drop of blood.
She spoke so vividly and with such
detail, as if she herself had been a
participant in those battles.
Everything was getting strange. I
felt very uneasy. The arms and legs
somehow didn't feel like they were mine. My head was burning. I
thought, maybe I have the flu. This is what
I needed in a foreign land.

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music]
[music]
When I woke up, I found out that I had been in a
fever for about two weeks. There in the
cafe I collapsed, and Inessa with difficulty
[music] dragged me to the hotel.
She told me that Ilyich visited me
almost every day, and it was he who brought the
doctor, our Bolshevik comrade
named Zhitomirsky.
Later, I could see many times that
Lenin also cared about each of his
comrades who needed help and
support if trouble befell them.
That's how all three of them nursed me back to health.
It also turned out that during my
illness, important events had occurred in our party affairs
.
I learned about them during my first
outing.
Mausuri Park is Vladimir Ilyevich's favorite place for walks
. He liked this
peaceful kingdom of trees, birds,
old people and children. Here I had a wonderful time thinking
and relaxing.
Here he told Trofimov the good
news. Our classes at school will start
in exactly 2 weeks.
These days Ilyich was in high
spirits.
The students of the party school were arriving. But the
main thing was not this, but the
top-notch news from Russia.
The wave
of strikes grew stronger and stronger. It became increasingly clear that a
new upsurge was taking shape. We rarely
went to theaters, concerts, or
movies, but here, in our joy, we
went on a spree and went to a small
theater on the outskirts. The popular
chanson Montegus performed here.
Here the audience loved and appreciated the song.
The program began with a song by
Medinetka.
[applause]
I'm in a room in Paris, where
Inessa explained to me that a medenetka is
simply a seamstress in our language.
She works in a hat shop from morning
until night and sings. Oh, how I want to find a
nice friend. But how can you do this if
you can only see men from your basement
for so long?
Je dois qui je dois pour me passer la
doigt ami doit choisir
le the
hall had to help her decide who she
should marry;
je guete par le
soupirail les gens qui vont les gens qui viennent
leur plaisir leur travail
le long des jours et des semaines pour
tre aim du matelot j'apprendrai
marcher sur les flots je rendrai plus douce
ma police pour l'agent de police.
Vous pourriez peut-tre m'aider
choisir celui qui je dois qui je
dois pour me marier. Passer la bague au
doigt. qui dois donner mon petit cur?
Matel? No.
But what was the uproar in the hall when it was necessary to
choose between the sailor and Ajan,
their policeman? At the
end she sang. Here is the one who will put a
ring on my finger.
[applause]
[applause]
Inessa explained to me, [music] that this is the
famous Montigus.
He praises the soldiers of the Seventeenth Regiment,
who rebelled and went to fraternize with
the people when the rebellion engulfed the south of the country.
restito
la patrie c'est d'abord sa mre
qui vous autoie [music]
mme all
[music]
assassin
salut vous
[music]
from the whole room, then
I am the only one,
because I did not know the words or the tune.
[music]
Although Inessa translated the chorus for me.
Greetings to you, brave infantrymen, and glory to
your deed.
After all, if you had shot at us, you would have killed the
republic.
en France
la paix la concorde rayons
tous au cur esprent
ce grand jour viendra
vous avez jet la premire graine dans le la
rcolte sera prochaine [music]
et ce jourl vous
Salut [music]
salut
bravo sold
[music]
[music]
a [music] manli
[music]
[music]
[applause]
two weeks have passed since our
arrival in Paris. The day has come for a trip
to one of the most important [music]
places for us.
However, to get there we had to
cross the entire city, and we once again
noted the [music] changes that had taken place
in it recently. The
belly of Paris, the ancient market,
sung about by Emile Zola, has disappeared. [music] In
place of the butchers, sheep and fish shops and the
bins with garbage and scraps,
a certain transparent forum has arisen [music],
equipped for commerce and
entertainment.
The famous Eiffel Tower has been pushed aside.
It is no longer she, but the intricate architecture of the
new center [music] of art and
culture on Bubur Square, that has become the main
attraction [music] of the capital.
[music]
And even the outskirts of the city acquired some kind of
foreign,
overseas accent.
[music]
We finally reached the highway
heading south.
There, 15 kilometers from Paris, off the
highway, there is a
place called Lenjumu.
Today it has grown into a bustling town,
but in the days of which we speak
it was only a village, spread
along the single street [music] Granu, a
quiet abode of tanners, gardeners and
laundresses.
[music]
[music]
And here is the place we were looking for.
Granu, house number 91.
We got out of the car and read the inscription on the
plaque.
Vladimir
Ilyevich Lenin, the theorist and leader of the
international communist
movement and founder of the Soviet Union, lived and worked here in 1911. After
wandering around looking for an entrance that would lead
to the second floor, we turned the corner and
found ourselves in the courtyard.
There was a feeling that everything here remained the
same as when Vladimir Ilyich
lived in this house, which belonged to a
mustard merchant.
Workers selected by party
organizations in different parts of Russia came here to Longjumos.
They became students of the first
Bolshevik school, where they were taught by Lenins great teachers
, those who remained faithful to him
during all the difficult years. Lectures were given here by
Simashka, Krupskaya, Lunacharskaya, Ines
Armant, but more often than others and almost daily by
Vladimir Ilyevich.
The summer turned out to be hot. In the evenings, all
the students and teachers went together
to the river named Iveta.
They swam until sunset, and then someone would start singing a
Russian song, familiar to both political
katarns and barge haulers.
and its sounds carried over the small
French town that entered our
history.
But without sorrowful
tears, without sobs,
so that they, filled with proletarian
anger,
sound like a
call
to rebellion.
From the cathedral square we set off in
search of the barn where lectures were given and where the
audience generally whiled away the evenings.
This premises once belonged to
Leon Duchon. Then he went bankrupt and published it to the
carpenter Kartevey, who opened a
workshop here.
Today, as it seemed to us from the outside, there
was also something like a workshop there.
The owner declared that he was not running a museum, and that
he did not care what had been housed
here before, even if it had been the manger of
our Lord Jesus Christ himself.
The entrance was sealed tightly,
but people involved with pen and
film always have the opportunity
to get in where the bolts are slid and the
locks are hung.
These refectories gathered
here in the barn every day to fully understand
the goals and means of their struggle, to strengthen
their faith, because without faith a
person cannot live with dignity.
And it seemed important to us, having penetrated
through time, to reflect on the destinies of
those young people who today either wander
aimlessly, or have chosen
[music]
unbelief with their faith, but whom life will still force
[music] to find their place in the struggle.
Now bitterness [laughter] is
completely different,
white, even.
Yes, be quiet. [laughter]
Look who's there,
you know?
[laughter]
Pass
the potatoes.
They are also basses. Let's clean it
.
And none of them smoke. They do
n't smoke. But they are vegetarians.
Or maybe these are wandering saints?
Or maybe new apostles? A?
Oh, count them. There are 12 of them too.
Who are you?
Proletarians.
Where?
From Russia.
And
then congratulate them. They know where good
and evil are.
They figured out how to save humanity.
[laughter]
What are you doing here?
We are learning.
And who are you? Are you studying too?
I don't study. I am teaching
. Wow
.
What?
Hatred.
To whom?
To the bourgeoisie,
to its morality, religion. science,
its laws, [ ] and generals,
all its lackeys
and in general this whole life
will be damned.
You are right about the bourgeoisie. But life,
we didnt curse life,
we loved it.
This is a lie.
Don't believe them, they're lying.
Freedom is the
fundamental principle of life.
And what did they learn here,
in this barn? They learned how to strangle
her when they came to power.
[laughter]
You ask them how they managed to waste their time here.
Life in the most colorful
city in the world went on nearby. And they, these fasters, these
neat freaks, they passed by this
life. They turned away from her,
entangled, as if by blinders, in the dogmas of their
common faith.
Listen to
what their teacher began his lectures with here in
Longmoux
. There is nothing more
important now.
as a unification of all Marxists to
defend the theoretical foundations of
Marxism and its fundamental principles,
distorted by the most opposing sides. The
bourgeois press, as always,
creates many misconceptions on this matter and
spreads them widely.
Marx and Engels noted this back in the Communist Manifesto
when they wrote: In bourgeois
society, capital has
independence and individuality.
Meanwhile, the working individual is
deprived of independence and is depersonalized. And
the destruction of these relations the bourgeoisie
calls the abolition of personality and freedom.
They are right. We are talking about the exercise of the
bourgeois personality, bourgeois
independence and bourgeois freedom. Did
you hear?
Personality and freedom are abolished. And this is what they
gave their lives to. What does he say?
What?
But I knew that life is short and one must
hasten to enjoy it.
I loved life,
and they despised it, so I hated
them
and betrayed them. What?
Yes. Yes. I
betrayed them and I am proud of it.
I did not do it for the money. I was thinking about
you, about the youth, about your future.
Get out, scoundrel.
And so you are of the same breed.
You also do not understand anything. Are
you capable of understanding?
Some kind of The sweetness of
deceiving those
who thought themselves wiser than others.
Putting fools behind bars
who decided to understand the
incomprehensible.
I'm not alone. There are tons of people
like me.
And you shouldn't curse us,
but bless us,
because if it weren't for us, humanity
would be mired in the righteous.
Remove him.
Fine.
I'll leave.
But remember,
I only betrayed him,
and you
will kill him.
I hope you didn't believe this scoundrel.
I'm as much a rebel as you are, and I also
despise traitors.
You said you were studying here.
What?
Revolution.
And what
have you learned?
We made it.
[music]
[music]
And what about Langimo, Sasha? Do you remember? Of
course, Vladimir Ilyevich, and me too.
And the table there, I think, was like this. Something like
this. Have you
met any other comrades from Zhimovtsy here in St. Petersburg?
No, I don't think so, I'm alone with Meaulnes.
Life has scattered everyone. Some in the Urals, in
Siberia, others are no longer there. Rotted away in the tsarist
prisons. But they never came back. But have you
forgotten the lessons of the Paris Commune?
No.
What were we talking about then?
About the communards stopping
halfway, carried away by dreams of higher
justice, and missing the opportunity
to take money and institutions from the bourgeoisie. The
answer: the banks. Very true. Once
the uprising has begun, we must continue it with
all determination.
Knock down all the supports of capitalism,
seize the banks and the ministry. And since
that's so, why are you, my friend,
here and not at the
State Bank of the Russian
Empire?
Vladimirovich, I'll be right back. No need.
We've already taken care of the banks.
We've occupied the post office. The train stations, the city
power plant, the central telegraph are in
our hands. The Winter Palace is surrounded.
Antonov Ovsenko is about to begin the assault.
Things are looking up. Things are going well.
The main thing now is to prevent the enemy from
getting reinforcements.
Where could they come from?
Vladimir Il'vich, I understand. The bridges, that's
right. Letelny, Troitsky, and
Dvortsovy must be under our
control.
And you [music] guarantee that this is the case.
Okay, I'll quickly check.
Smol is listening.
Who? Who?
Ah, hello. Hello.
On behalf of all the telephone operators. Excellent.
True, Russia's revolution is even more wonderful.
Why are you refusing to work?
Ah, you haven't eaten for 24 hours.
Let's try to do something.
Tada.
There you have it, the bastard. He was campaigning, the bastard, among
the scooter riders.
Who are you, fools, fighting for? For
new tyrants, you idiots. Come on, talk, or
I'll give you a spanking.
Ah, comrade Irin, hello. So
that's where we met again. We
sat in prison together, used the same toilet
. Has your memory failed you? All over
Russia We wandered around among the Germans, among
the French.
Don't you remember? No? Calm down, calm down
your sbir. After all, if you allow yourself to
treat Marxists like this, they'll
chop cabbage out of you too. I understand
that you don't like what I'm telling
the workers. Let's not argue. We can't take you by the scruff of the neck
like that. We
need to argue, but don't forget about shivorita
.
What are you even talking to him for, Comrade
Ilyin? He used to call us such names. Swindlers, he
says, freeloaders, traitors
of the revolution, spies.
Well, he called us names, so go ahead, you unwashed hookah.
He did. He called us names and I'll keep calling us names, and even
worse. And you'll establish a dictatorship of
democracy and society, you'll be Asian Marxists and usurpers
. Of course.
And what kind of dictatorship. What world didn't know? A
dictatorship of the proletariat, ensuring the
dawn of genuine people's democracy.
You'll attach class struggle to it,
together with Those who gave their lives for
the revolution. We'll
buckle you up if you rise up to workers'
power. We're not kind at all, keep
that in mind.
But we're no angels either.
Yes, yes, we know that. Go. I'm leaving.
Remember, this isn't the end. You'll
pay for this. Yes,
yes, of course, I'll pay. Go.
Comrade, I have a favor to ask of you.
The telephone operators need to be fed.
What are you kidding, comrade, about me
feeding women? They've been feeding me my whole life.
You see, this is an extremely important matter.
The station needs to work, but the operators
refuse to connect hungry people. We need to
get the food delivered. Can you manage? There are cadets
nearby.
Well, we'll scatter the cadets. Here
you go.
Please give the bearer of this 50
loaves of bread, 30 cans of
meat, two sacks of sugar, and 2 pounds of
tea.
Signed Lenin.
Return before bed.
Okay, I'm swimming. There will be sons.
[music]

Now he's writing a decree on peace, on
what will become the fundamental basis of our
state life.
He just took care of bread and
sugar for the telephone operators.
But has he eaten himself these days?
I can swear that he hasn't
had a crumb in his mouth for two days. He's simply
hungry. Damn hungry.
But he forgot about it in the hustle and bustle.
And maybe also because
he's very happy.
Only much later, remembering this
incredible night, he realized that
he had been preparing for it his whole life.
For decades, wherever fate threw him
, he weighed every possible
step, all the surprises and turns.
Hundreds of times he went over it bit by bit,
checking all the subtleties and traps.
And then
this night
came,
victory was approaching.
[music]
[music]
[music]
Lenin is needed. Report.
What You say, comrade?
Are you Lenin?
Yes.
Report from commander Antonov
Ovseenko. The
Provisional Government has been arrested and
taken to Peter and Paul Fortress. Kirensky
has escaped, the Winter Palace has fallen.
Thank you, comrade.
Comrades, the worker of the peasant
revolution, the necessity of which
the Bolsheviks always talked about, has happened.
Hello,
some telephone operator ladies.
They are thanking you. Some sailor fed them
.
Hey, haven't you noticed yet?
No, go and admire this Magdalene
of Sin.
Go.
[laughter]
And remember this night.
Your Lenin was a smart man. I also
learned from him.
And what did you learn?
Intolerance.
That's true. But that's not all he taught.
What else, in your opinion?
He taught
that without a party of the working class, the
victory of the revolution is impossible.
Get that into your head. The
working class is bankrupt.
History has buried it in exams.
Today we, the revolutionary
youth brigades, have accepted relay race of uprisings. You
and I have different understandings of
revolution. We
did a good job in October of
1917, but then we stopped. But
revolution is eternal movement,
destruction,
incessant riot, blizzard, explosion.
[laughter] Did
you hear everything, student from John Jimo?
What will you say now?
You shouted that revolution is eternal
destruction.
But revolution is,
first of all, the creation of something new,
unheard-of work, which requires no less
selflessness, courage, fire than on
any barricade.
But in the name of what? - you will ask. I will answer
you,
but not with a shout.
Come to me, girl.
You have a loved one. It was he who gave you
this flower.
You will soon get married,
and your husband will give you these flowers.
And then your son will present you with this gift
.
But answer me, do
you want your son to live on earth,
where he will be free? Not in words, but
in deeds,
where there will be neither no fat cats, no beggars,
no fear of losing a job, no horror of
war.
Creating a new life is not easy. It will require
work and faith, perseverance and devotion.
Sometimes giving up a lot.
You still want your son to choose
this path.
Then give these flowers to the one who opened
this path and was the first to build a country
where everything will be for man and for him.
Thank you. Return to your
future.
That is my answer.
I hope you understood it. If the hatred
you preach has not completely blinded
you. Have
you said everything,
apostle?
No, he forgot to add that when you
yell at him, you will get a spanking on the ass,
[laughter] and you will return to your dads.
Everything will go on as usual. Study peacefully,
marry successfully and calmly raise
children. the same bourgeois as you yourself.
Shut up.
You still haven't understood anything.
You overlooked that we have come to replace yesterday's
mama's boys. And we
will not build clownish barricades and
set fire to the cars of our ancestors. We will get down to
business,
exterminating capitalists one by one,
holding them hostage, planting
bombs under their houses, blowing up parliaments and
churches, executing their ministers.
Remember,
we are not sheep, and we will not be so easily
knocked out of the game.
Our dispute is not over. This is the dispute of the century.
I soon found out that
this dispute will last a long time. In
the spring of 1921, when I
was traveling from the front to Moscow for the Tenth
Party Congress, news of the Kronstadt rebellion reached me en route
. Times were
hard. The country was only just beginning
to recover from the devastating
consequences of the war and the siege. It was freezing cold
and groaning from hungernot enough
heat, light, and bread.
The peasantry suffered the most.
Crop failure, livestock deaths, the burden of
food tax collection. And when news from the
villages reached Kronstadt, a
rebellion broke out there. It was ignited by the declassed Kleshniks who had by then infiltrated the
ranks of the professional sailors
, and behind them
stood counterrevolutionaries of all stripes.
They hoisted the black banner of anarchy, and
their fury fell first and foremost on the
communists. Here, in Kronstadt,
Lenin's enemies rallied tirelessly. Comrades
, we
'll hold out a little longer. Just a little longer. The
American Red Cross
is sending you food supplies through Finland,
comrades, just a little bit.
Saratov declared itself a free city.
Volyn rebelled. Lenin and Budyonny fled to
Crimea.
Don't worry, eagles, we'll crush
the Bolsheviks en masse.
Signed Nester Makhno. Come on, let's get to work.
Lenin told us that this
petty-bourgeois anarchist
counterrevolution, directed against the
dictatorship of the proletariat, is more dangerous than
Denikin, Yudenich, and Kolchak combined.
And we, 279 delegates to the congress, declared
themselves mobilized, boarded
freight cars and arrived in St. Petersburg. That's how I
found myself on this fragile Kronstadt
ice.
I was killed on the night of March 18, 1921,
that cursed night when we went to
storm Kronstadt.
The fortress bristled with cannons, it seemed
impregnable, but I knew that it had to be
taken at any cost. I had to run.
Run to the wall. There, artillery was no longer a
threat. Forward, only forward. Ilyich
said that if we don't win, we'll
slide back, like the French
Revolution. No, we won't slide back, then
only forward. How do you say that in French?
Anvan. Ines hasn't been with us for six months. For
Ines, for Longimo, for everything I've
learned by increasing forward. And suddenly,
through the whistling in the south, I thought I heard an
echo of our
unfinished argument there beyond the Grandstatt wall.
May you have mercy wisdom. It is
not bookish trash, but the rifle that
decides the fate of the revolution.
Very well. We will finish it with the
weapon you yourself have chosen. Forward. A
rocket flashed over the wall. A signal that
our forces had broken into the fortress.
That was the last thing I saw.
[applause]
in the mornings I sometimes went to see Trofimov,
because we had resumed our
French lessons.
And soon I felt
what a turning point had occurred in him after
talking with Lenin.
He realized that the revolution, history, life were
not as straightforward and simple as he had
previously thought. He was seized by a furious
thirst for knowledge. Day and night he
sat over books.
Today, as he later confessed to me, he was
tormented towards morning by some kind of heavy and
strange dream.
And maybe thats why he rinsed himself so diligently
over the sink,
as if trying to quickly wash away the traces of
this dream.
The autumn that year turned out to be rainy and
cold. I will
never forget how at the end of November,
shortly before my departure, I ran to
Mariros Street with a newspaper that
printed the sad news.
Ilic knew nothing. He was, as always,
happy to see me. Besides, he was
eager to beat me at chess.
What is this? It ca
n't be. It ca
n't be.
Nadya, Nadya, come here.
Paul and Laura Lafargue died by
suicide.
In the morning, the gardener, worried about their
absence, went into their room.
Lafargue was lying dressed on the bed. Laura
was sitting in a chair. It turned out they were sleeping.
They died together, just as they had lived together.
Incredible. Incomprehensible.
So who allowed them [music]
to manage their lives? Who gave them
the right to die?
There is no such indulgence for our brother.
There is only one thing: life and struggle.
Look at the letter he left, how he
justifies himself.
Being of sound mind and With a clear memory,
I'm taking my own life before
inexorable old age robs me of my
physical and spiritual strength, paralyzes my
energy, and turns me into a heavy burden for
myself and others.
It's a fact.
Incredible.
Now I understand everything.
What do I understand?
When we were last with them,
Laura whispered to me:
"Soon he will prove to everyone how
sincere his philosophical convictions are.
What a misfortune,
what irreparable grief.
How many hypocrites, [music]
nobodies, half-wits are around us, they cling to
life with a forest of newspapers.
Alefargyushli. There are
none.
We were left alone. We
had walked together before, talked,
argued, and spent hours together. But it has never
happened so close and openly as now.
Here, Davich, I allowed myself to armor the
unfortunate Lefargs.
And what right did he actually have to do this?
After all, every person can experience
moments of melancholy, despair, and darkness. Has this ever happened to
you, Sasha?
It happened, Vladimir Ilyevich, it happened.
Sometimes you wake up after midnight,
open your eyes and for a long time you cant understand
where you are.
In Siberia, in Geneva, in France.
Night,
no sound, no light.
And before you is the incredible immensity of a world
all in cannons. bullets armored vehicles.
And you only have letters,
tiny letters, which you have to put together to form
words.
Yes, such that they would overturn this
world.
By the way, there is nowhere to print these words.
No money, no printing house,
nothing. You'll
come to despair.
Such a huge mountain.
You have to live, dig,
dig all your life.
Vladimir L'evich, do
you ever think about death?
And I dont know what shes like.
I know what the field, the sky, the river look like.
This is what death looks like.
What will she be like when she comes? Do
n't know.
He could have written it in French himself,
but he
asked me to help him translate it.
Je prends la parole au nom du parti
ouvrier socialdmocrate russe
pour exprimer la peine profonde que nous
ressentons
devant la mort de Paul et Laura Laf. Ds
l'poque de la prparation de la
rvolution russe,
les ouvriers conscients
et tous les socidmocrates de Russie avait appris
prouver pour la fargue
le profond respect d l'un des
propagateurs les plus dous, les plus
profonds des ides du marxisme.
que l'exprience de la lutte des classes
lors de la revolution et de la
contrevolution russe
I listened to him then in this cemetery
and thought about what kind of
person he was. His
enemies called him a dogmatist,
his friends a sage.
To the shoemaker, whose shoes he repaired, he was
silent, to the baker, whose
bread he bought, he was a talker. The postman
is clever, the coal miner is a simpleton,
the concierge on Mariros Street is
heartless.
And I knew
that he was, from his soul to his body,
committed to the victory of the working class. And
even here, at this sad
ceremony, he spoke about what he most desired
and dearly loved.
personnalit de la Farg aura runi
poques.
o la jeunesse rvolutionnaire de France se joignait
aux ouvriers franais
pour monter l'assaut de l'empire au
nom des ides rpublicain
et celle o le prolar franais guid par
les marxistes
amen une lutte de classe nergique
contre tout le rgime bourgeois se
prparant la lutte finale contre la
bourgeois
pour le socialisme.
The time of my departure was approaching.
I invited Inessa to that very cafe on
Manmartre where I fell ill.
[music]
I had [music] one extremely important
point for this last conversation.
The most important, central and nodal.
But I suddenly became shy, softened and didnt
[music] know at all how to begin.
Of course, despite the underground life and the
eternal hanging out, I still
fell in love twice, but it was just [music]
in passing, although strong.
And here I felt
it forever.
Why are you silent?
I am not silent. You
look as if you can
only talk about the fight against the Mensheviks.
[music]
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Merci
Thank you, Orevo.
And suddenly, unexpectedly for myself, I
said in a foreign language what was so
difficult to pronounce in Russian.
Zhevuzel.
Yes, yes, I love you. I can't live without you
. I understand that its not nice to
say this before leaving, but
well meet someday, damn it
, in Russia. Then we'll get married.
Decided.
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After a pause, she said: "Listen,
Sasha, as your mentor, I should be
happy about your [music] success in the language. But
let's forget what you just
said. After all, we must think [music]
first of all about business." I cried out: "Business!
I have devoted my whole life to our business, but I am a
man, you understand? A man, and it
so happened that I fell in love."
She interrupted me. Sasha, think about it, we
both have a difficult life ahead of us, and we
will really need a friends hand in it. I began to
object that I would still wait for her, I
would hope.
She answered softly and decisively: "No,
we'd better remain friends."
and immediately got down to business.
So, remember, [music]
first of all, you will go to Kyiv, there on
Vasilikovskaya Street lives a person with
whom you will establish a permanent connection.
[music]
It's time for us to leave.
We carried with us a lot of material for
work and, impatient to sort it out,
we swapped the train for a plane.
The airport in Roissy is one of the most
modern buildings in Paris. It is a
glass labyrinth with a multi-ethnic
crowd, a motley assortment of clothes,
different sizes of suitcases, a mixture of
smells and languages.
And in the center of this bustling merchandise with its
escalators and stairs, counters and
display cases,
bar counters and souvenir kiosks, there
even stood a fountain, seemingly
having escaped here from the park in Versailles.
But just a few decades
ago there was only a lawn covered with
grass here.
Two spectators were usually seated on it
.
They often came here on their
bicycles to watch the efforts of the first
aviators to get off the ground.
We were flying back to our homeland,
and below us stretched the land, where
particles of this great life were preserved
in the town of Lenzhimu,
and in the library halls, and in the alleys of
Munsuri Park,
and in the workroom in house number four.
along Maria Ross street.

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