Prank (2009) - full transcript
It is 1912 and war looms on the horizon. The school year begins in a boarding school run by priests. Zoltán's father, is one of the masters and struggling with questions that challenge their faith, while waiting for news of his brother, Titanic passenger, and is a particularly problematic group of new students, many of whom have been fond increasingly heavy play each other jokes. The arrival of Father Weigl, hired to teach physical education, will bring alarming consequences.
PRANK
...I can promise that you'll have
little time for daydreaming.
Not one moment, in fact.
Led by your teachers, who are
peerless in their respective fields...
...you'll begin your course
up a flight of stairs...
...to become, one fine day,
respectable men of our country.
Possibly, some of you will falter
or go astray on the road.
For as we know, chances are
in abundance to sin...
- One, two, three, rock.
- 7:5.
- Scissors.
- 8:6.
- Stone.
- 9:6.
- Scissors.
- 10:6.
I won. I'm the best.
...at times like these despondency
and despair overcome your souls.
They're dancing!
This is the predecessor of
film, boys.
Originally it is called
"Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae."
And this is the most famous
moving image, the Rat Eater.
All are independent images.
Our brain sets them in motion.
Double!
Redouble!
- Wearing your glasses, eh, Szebeni?
- Of course.
Watch it. Don't let it fog up.
Hearts. Ulti captured.
Well, well.
I thought I was dreaming.
You'll be sleepy tomorrow.
A hard day ahead.
What's your first class?
I didn't ask you.
First class is algebra.
It's my principle that
the first sin shall be forgiven.
We all err.
Do you agree, boys?
Good. Then pick up that filth.
Everyone their own. And get lost.
You stay.
I can see you won.
Do you play well?
Fairly well.
Ulti?
Ulti.
Can I have a look?
- Is it yours?
- It's mine.
Hold the candle. Closer.
I see now.
Did you mark every card
or just the high-ranked ones?
Why so tongue-tied?
Only the kings. And the aces.
How petty.
You can leave.
Sorry. Really sorry.
Trees are blooming
a second time around this year.
See these white threads?
Tiny spiders weave them
and use them as airships...
...to escape bad weather.
I don't feel scents nowadays.
I'm not cold, I'm not hot.
I can't taste flavours either,
it's as if I were eating sawdust.
Time stands still,
like in a photograph.
Have I shown you, Father ?goston?
My little brother.
I don't know what I'd do
if I didn't have this picture.
"Milan.
Before the fatal match."
This paper will soon get eaten by
dust and there'll be nothing left.
Who's my master? No one!
Who's mightier than I? No one!
Come and touch my hump! Moles!
What a brute. I had an idiot
like him in my old school.
He wanted us to address him as
"Your Excellency."
- He's been with a woman.
- Come on! How do you know?
Everybody knows.
- What sort of a woman?
- The female sort.
A housemaid, a whore, a lady?
Then along came that Englishman...
...split my little brother's eardrum,
deafened him for good.
In my conceit I fathomed I can
challenge the phrase "for good."
And that the doctor in Boston
will work wonders.
Boys! Boys...
This is a good place.
I like it here.
What are you rambling about,
Szebeni?
It's better here
than in my old school.
- Are you mad?
- Szebeni's a moron! He likes it here!
Are you ill, Szebeni?
A good place, this?
Reveille at five-thirty.
Morning wash. Ice-cold water.
Mass at six-twenty.
Dormitory check at seven.
Egg barley soup.
Penance! Push-up! Shut up!
They censor your readings...
...search your pockets and make you
run in place in the rain.
And they keep preaching ad nauseam!
And you call this a good place?
Have you memorized the disciplinary
measures, Szebeni? D'you know 'em?
Leave him alone!
Do you or don't you?
Gentlemen, stop chasing it!
He too is God's creature:
"Rattus norvegicus".
There are scientific methods to chase
it out of the house.
Now go to your classrooms.
Anyone who doesn't
won't get any supper.
Rome. Imperial palace.
Early morning,
an old man wishes to see the ruler.
He's wearing red shoes
with four leather straps...
...a broad purple band on his toga,
gold rings on his fingers.
What does this attire imply?
Tell him! Do you want to
write a test?
That attire in those days
was worn by senators.
Precisely.
The bodyguards took the old senator
before Marcus Aurelius.
"What brings you here, my friend?"
the emperor asked.
"I'm worried for my only son, Sir,
he is but fourteen years of age."
The senator explains...
...that the previous night his son was
arrested by the sentinels...
...near Mars Ultor temple...
...and he is still being held.
He has done nothing.
He was running in an alleyway
with a jackdaw in his hand...
...and a gang of lads chased him,
yelling "thief! thief!"
There was quite a scuffle.
Who knows what
"Mars Ultor" means?
Vengeful Mars.
Take a look at this.
Ok, now I've seen it. You can
put it back where you found it.
You're their homeroom teacher,
Father Zolt?n. This is G?czy's bed.
- What do you intend to...
- Nothing.
I don't "intend" anything.
You've just started here.
Do not judge too hastily.
For the time being consider
yourself Guardian of the Gate.
What sort of Gate?
We need to find out
where it leads to.
I am sorry, Father,
I don't understand.
And this?
Where does this lead?
Third time this week they've
done it to Szebeni.
You know,
the boy with the spectacles.
I know.
I'll find the culprits
and crack down on them.
Do you think this is a sin?
In every possible way.
I ask you not to interfere.
Let's not spoil their fun.
What sort of fun
are you talking about?
I wasn't happy either to find pins
and nails hidden in my pillows...
...or to climb into bed only to land
in a bowl of ice cold water.
But the next day
I did the same to someone else.
We took and we gave.
I poured water in someone's shoe...
...next morning I woke up to find
my feet getting roasted with matches.
We'd sew together
the legs of trousers, hide books...
...roll dead beetles into bread...
...and hide spectacles, pocket watches
and pens in secret dens.
These are just pranks.
The emperor listens empathically
to the senator's complaint...
...and promises that his son would be
at home in an hour's time.
The relieved senator leaves.
Marcus Aurelius then summons
the commander of the night guard.
The commander claims the senator's
son acted provokingly...
...so one of the guards, Sextus,
was forced to use his spear.
Szebeni, up here,
you're going to be the emperor.
And we'll also need a Sextus.
Sextus is a gigantic lad.
Voice brazen,
fist like a rock.
- Who wishes to be Sextus?
- Me!
Szebeni! What are you
fiddling with down there?
My spectacles disappeared.
- You killed the boy?!
- I killed him.
He was only fourteen years of age.
Playing with a jackdaw.
- How could you do such a thing?!
- He was kicking and screaming.
You killed without reason,
Sextus. That is a capital crime.
Do you know what lies in store
for a Roman soldier...
...who commits a capital crime?
The criminal is led out into
the courtyard of the garrison.
At the captain's signal,
the mercenaries attack him...
...beat him with sticks,
stones, bats until he...
Sextus was unable to continue.
This beef of a man stood
in front of the emperor, frightened.
Let them get away with it.
After all, they're just pulling pranks.
Colts. Little colts.
But there's something else
I'd like to show you.
Did you hurt yourself?
Is it broken?
Maybe not.
But it hurts like hell.
Oops! See that?
A string.
It's not a string, Father Zolt?n.
It's a prank. Mischief.
This silence makes me
claustrophobic.
- Makes you what?
- Ssh!
A Hungarian doesn't talk
while eating.
Five crowns to whoever bursts into
a song right here, right now.
Money on the table.
"There's a poor orphan girl,
she has no mother, no father..."
"...naught to love her,
but she has a friend: solitude."
Pick any teacher, and for five crowns,
I'll smack him so hard.
Aren't we waiting for R?cz?
- He's not coming today.
- Why not?
Didn't say.
- It's raining. Don't you mind?
- It's just a drizzle.
The angels are weeping. No wonder.
People are killing each other
in the Balkans again.
You have a nasty cough.
If I were you I'd go to Pest
and have myself examined...
...with the invention of that German
doctor called Roentgen.
Not that... Never.
Do you believe in the afterlife?
I think the Church uses that story
to hold its believers in line.
It's so quiet here!
It reminds me of a poem by Ady.
Do you know Ady?
Endre Ady? Well, not really.
Well, listen then:
"I walk the forest
in the moonlight..."
"...and whistle through
my chattering teeth..."
"...stalking behind me ten feet tall
Good Prince Silence..."
"... - 'mercy' - I tremble,
dare not turn."
Do you like it?
D'you want me to continue?
I don't have a knack for these things.
I'll take you in today, OK?
I've no money.
Only three crowns.
Haven't you got three crowns?
You must be joking.
The newsreel, that's the best part.
- Have you never seen a newsreel?
- Never.
- Are we going in?
- We are, but later.
- When?
- When it starts.
Miss Paula.
Why, look who it is, Mr. Schoolboy!
One for tonight's show?
I've just popped in with my friend.
Let me introduce him.
Beck. What's you're first name?
Never mind.
- Pleased to meet you.
- The pleasure is all mine.
My friend has never seen a film.
Five minutes, no more.
The manager might show up.
Your friend can go in
for five minutes.
Your skin is like a silk necktie.
- You can take a seat inside, too.
- I prefer to woo you instead.
Not today. Some other time.
- When?
- Sometime.
"The famous escape artist Morton
has been frozen in a block of ice..."
"...and is now loaded onto a train
and transported to Philadelphia."
To continue our little discussion
last week about sin and sinners...
Perhaps you remember.
I thought
we'd got to the end of it.
It never ends.
I hoped I convinced you,
Father Weigl.
Half convinced me. I let your infinite
benevolence assuage me..
...or shall we call it gullibility?
- Is there something I should know?
- Perhaps.
Indulge me, please.
Let's see. Cards are not sinful...
...although we do say
they're the Devil's game.
Cards? Oh come on! I'm aware
the boys play ultimo. I don't care.
And one of them is
winning too much.
Takes it all. Literally.
- Takes it all?
- Yes.
Slowly, every night
he's bleeding dry the entire class.
He's been at it for weeks.
The only question is...
What is the question?
The question is to what does he
owe his outrageous luck?
Chance? Card skills?
The stupidity of others?
Or could it be something else?
If a kid were to, say,
mark the cards...
...and this is mere speculation...
...and strip his classmates
slowly and methodically:
...would that too be just a prank?
A falter?
Have you seen boobs,
Szebeni?
I can't imagine he's ever seen any.
Bromberg, I bet he hasn't.
Szebeni doesn't even want
to see boobs!
He'll remain a virgin all his life.
Did you know, Szebeni...
...that the Mayans,
when praying for rain...
...- betli, a full -...
...they threw virgin boys into the
dried wells. Pardon - grace.
Ready for a betli?
Two coins from you, Bromberg,
two from the virgin.
Who's my master? No one!
Who's mightier than I? No one!
You're a cheat. You cheat.
Say that again.
I've been watching you.
You're cheating.
Cane doesn't work,
next time I'll use a whip...
...and if that doesn't help,
you'll be expelled.
Disgrace for disgrace.
You've blown the web of obedience
to smithereens...
...trampled on the commands like
a swine. Demons hid in that swine...
...demons, demons, demons!
Five minutes!
Oh sir! Father Weigl!
What are you oohing about? Why aren't
you running around with the others?
What a beautiful carving.
May I have a look?
You may.
Line up in double files.
Straight as an arrow.
No chit-chat, keep in line!
Crawling is the cornerstone
of a victorious attack!
A real soldier slithers and crawls
like a snake.
Attention! Crawl!
He's off the deep end again. Who
here wants to be a real soldier?
No one until there's a Monarchy
and that old fool is on the throne.
Of course, if the war breaks out...
What war? It's not my war.
I wouldn't take part.
Then you'll be a deserter
and be shot.
C'mon, moron,
this is the 20th century.
- Do you see any wars looming?
- Balkans. China. Everywhere.
I'm talking about Europe.
Can you divulge the topic
of your discussion?
The ruins reminded me of
a Japanese saying.
Let's hear it.
"Turn to the ruins if you wish
to learn more about ruins."
Japanese? Wonderful.
- I know a longer one, too.
- Let's hear it.
"I see summits..."
"...and rugged cliffs
and flowery meadows..."
"...under a golden Moon."
That's a poem, idiot.
Stand up!
Form a line around the apse!
This isn't over yet.
I couldn't care less. I'll smack
him around for ten crowns.
And I'll yank his ears
until they both fall off.
G?czy and K?llner! Fifty.
"Turn to your arm if you wish
to learn more about your arm."
A Japanese poem.
Stand up! Stop!
Mutiny! Anarchy!
Stand up! You too, stand up!
- Only 27, sir!
- Stand up!
This is mutiny. Stand up. Stop.
Hey, you... give us our grub.
None for you.
What's that supposed to mean?
No grub today. Maybe not even
tomorrow. That's all we were told.
I know of a starvation artist
who's paraded around in a cage.
He held out for forty days.
They gave him lemon and water
from time to time.
Moron, shut your mouth or I'll
punch you. Get us our supper now.
Careful, the principal!
Seventh-graders won't be
receiving supper for a while.
The reason: anarchic behaviour
during physical exercise.
Penalties of this sort are usually
meted for a whole week...
...but thanks to Father Zolt?n's
intercession...
...we shall content ourselves
with three days this time.
However, as cumulative
punishment, the chief culprits...
...D?niel G?czy,
Gy?rgy Beck and L?szl? K?lner...
...shall have to kneel for the
duration of supper deprivation.
You may begin at once, boys.
Excuse me, sir...
- The Rats?
- What?!
Are you watching the Rat Eater?
No. Not the Rat Eater.
What do you want, Szebeni?
Why did you come to me?
I lost my...
What?
My diary.
Here? In my cell?
You want to find it here?
Of course not.
Keeping a diary? Excellent.
Self-knowledge
develops character.
What did it look like?
A small, lined copybook.
Keep better watch of your
personal belongings, Szebeni.
I'll ask the Brothers
to keep their eyes open.
Now go, Szebeni.
Throw the ball high, it plummets,
then slam it with your forehead.
Use your neck. Your neck!
What are you doing? Come on.
You can head from the hand, too.
And the arse. Care to show us?
Sorry. I'm only looking for my
copybook. It has a blue cover.
Have you seen it?
I saw a copybook under a tree this
morning. But it had a green cover.
- Which tree?
- So what was it? Blue or green?
- I don't know, I'm colorblind.
- Me too.
Come in.
I'm sorry. I'll be just a moment.
According to the weather forecast,
we're in for a severely cold
winter this year.
Harsh frost, fog,
Egyptian darkness at times.
That sort of weather
is bad for football.
The boys will be at risk
for idleness of the body...
...sluggishness of heart and mind.
That can lead to fits of temper...
...aggression, and what is
most dangerous, melancholy.
You obviously know better than I
that during the Inquisition...
...the melancholic were burnt
at the stake...
...because they were
thought to be infectious.
Fortunately, I have an idea
how to prevent that from happening.
How?
We shall introduce boxing.
Boxing can be pursued indoors...
...and it can help vent
pent-up frustration.
M?r J?kai once said,
"our best ally is our own fist."
Of course,
we can't do without gloves...
What are you doing?! You can't
touch those. Put them back!
Right away,
just let me delight in them.
That's amazing - it's the best
brand in the world.
How dare you! Stop it!
"Everlast" - Father, you're hiding
a real wonder in your cell.
You can't do that,
stop it, stop it, stop it!
Where did you get it?
Did you ever box?
The two of us could give
the kids a presentation...
Enough!
I had hoped...
Never mind. I give up.
The rule is to collect twenty-five
snow-white pebbles in two minutes.
Strictly snow-white ones.
Only two minutes isn't enough.
At least I haven't succeeded yet.
And if you did succeed?
I would receive news...
Go on...
...that my brother is alive -
that is the news I'm waiting for.
All they informed me of insofar is
that he disappeared.
My son... My dear son.
I was practically panhandling to raise
money for the ferry ticket.
I'm alone responsible... Me alone.
He'd come to terms with
his deafness but I pushed him...
...saying you must get better,
you must...
And if I did it out of
selfish ambition?
So that
I too could bask in glory?
Surely Providence cannot impose
such a sin upon me.
The following story
took place in 1765...
...in a Benedictine monastery
in the Carpathian mountains.
There lived a highly educated
young monk called Cyprian...
...who was obsessed with flying.
For years
he worked on his invention...
...in the secret of the night,
in the cellars of the monastery.
Then early one morning
he decided the time was right...
...and he slipped out of
the monastery...
...dragging behind his contraption.
He climbed up to the top of
a nearby mountain, 1000 metres high...
...attached the device to his arms,
muttered a prayer and ascended.
He was truly swimming in the air.
His fellow monks watched Brother
Cyprian in awe and suspicion.
The Bishop of Nitra ordered
that this so-called "Devil's Chariot"...
...be burnt in public -
in the market place.
A huge crowd gathered round.
The proceedings were accompanied
by rude yells and cackles.
Subsequently, Cyprian
was expelled from the monastery...
...on charges of shaking hands with
the Devil.
That's all for now. We'll turn to the
subject of gravity after snack time.
Anybody hungry?
That was how things were
with flying in the old days.
Slander and failure and ignorance.
Times have changed since then.
But will J?kai be proven right?
"Flying will bring
everlasting peace on Earth."
A nice thought. But I'm not so sure
it holds up any more.
My dad, too, is waiting for the
Golden Age, but my grandfather says...
...that history ended
with the Battle of K?niggr?tz...
...and no big changes are expected.
And you, what do you think?
I believe that crazy acts
make the world go round.
What are you doing here
at half past three in the morning?
Show me your hands.
You'll get expelled for this.
Oh... I only...
It was only meant to be a joke...
A joke? Fun? A laugh?
To humiliate the Principal,
the choir and the congregation?
- But...
- Don't say a word.
You'd just be Iying. Mocking.
Tomorrow you'll visit Father
Damian. He's your confessor, right?
Good, so he'll hear your
confession, give you penance...
...and we'll forget about it.
But you should know
I could have you expelled...
...if it weren't for your parents
who are such decent folk.
- Now begone.
- Yes. Thank you.
Only I'd like to clean up.
These are consecrated objects.
Consecrated floors.
I shan't have you soil them
even more.
Go away, will you!
I would've come earlier, but some
idiot tied together a bunch of shoes.
Tough luck.
- Are we going to get off lightly?
- Perhaps.
If it weren't for Father Zolt?n, I'd
by chucked out of here.
- As would I.
- They wouldn't know about you.
- But I would tell them.
- It wouldn't help me.
- Still, we did it, mate!
- You did it. A heroic deed.
Don't be silly, we planned it
together. Only I had the ink.
Status: in hiding. Reason:
fear of literature test.
Father ?goston is under
the weather.
I'm substituting him,
so there will be no test.
Sit back now.
It is public knowledge that
I am a humorless man.
I consider humor to be repulsive.
And poetry, too. Understand?
Good. That's settled.
The man's insane.
The other day
I came across a copybook.
Among the notes I discovered
a thought that I recommend...
...to use as a guiding principle
along the bumpy path of your lives.
The sentence reads as such:
"It is as simple to keep going as
it is hard to know why."
Let me repeat:
"It is as simple to keep going as
it is hard to know why."
That copybook...
I lost that copybook.
Did you? Good news.
Authorless scribbles and stray dogs
are so depressing.
- Can I have it back?
- What do you mean?
Give it back, sir. Please.
I realise it's a precious object.
Its contents are also precious.
As they say, it is confessional.
You write fondly of your mother.
Please don't...
You mustn't, it's private.
My mother is a rose, a violet,
and springtime dawn.
Are great minds born or nurtured,
and what are their characteristics?
- Really nothing to add to that.
- Please give my copybook back.
Self-love is a bit excessive:
"I'm overcome with melancholy.
Who am I, what am I?"
"I'm surrounded
by searching glances."
- Loving your neighbour is...
- This is torture!
Our Japanese scholar.
Is this your field, too?
Szebeni's copybook is his own!
Who else's would it be?
You heard:
"It is as simple to keep going as
it is hard to know why."
We all know what it means
to keep going.
But there can be so many
reasons.
I want to know why you dream
of smacking teachers around.
You deny it?
Rise up, vermin!
This scribble plainly illustrates,
who and how many smackeroos.
But the motive goes unmentioned
by our faithful chronicler.
Bloody stool pigeon!
Informer.
Even feels sorry for himself!
Traitor! Informant!
Shut up.
He didn't squeal on anybody.
He was scribbling for himself only.
Unfortunately, he lost his copybook.
On the first page he drew a skull,
and wrote:
"Woe betide he who reads this."
Woe to me. But I'm alive.
So, the slappings.
The other teachers aren't here,
so I shan't mention them.
Mih?ly R?cz offered to give me
two punches and a nose twist...
...against the sum of five crowns. Why?
Stand up.
I'm waiting to hear your answer.
It was just a joke.
Joke?
Like I said, I have no
sense of humour.
So Mih?ly R?cz, go ahead
and accomplish your wish.
Two punches and a nose twist.
Are you afraid?
Sir, you're provoking him!
D?niel G?czy would smack
me hard...
...and yank my ears
till they fell off.
All for ten crowns.
Let's see, then. Here's ten.
I'll even put up the money.
Come on! A smack and the ears.
Loudmouths.
Never short of great ideas.
Only lacking execution.
Take Szebeni,
our chronicler, for example.
He'd slap me so hard on the nape
of the neck that I'd fall over.
Let's see.
Szebeni, at least you should
make your dreams come true.
Come.
Enter. Close the door.
Come closer.
Where're your boots?
The boys tied some boots
together.
This has to come to an end.
The Devil is teasing you all.
Stand on one leg.
Now on the other one.
Pity about you, Szebeni.
You're a good observer.
You'd make a fine
war correspondent.
Do you know the rules of
disciplinary measures?
I do.
Which is the most severe
punishment? Lift the leg higher.
In the case of indisputable
moral corruption...
...a nationwide ban from all schools.
Indeed. I haven't yet mentioned
what transpired to anyone.
But in the morning I shall have to
report it to the Principal.
That would kill my mother.
My dad, you know...
Not so loud.
I hate emotional blackmail.
Please beat me,
every day, all year round.
And don't give me any food.
And I'll kneel.
I wanted to do no harm.
Only everyone mocks me.
They think I'm a coward.
Please whip me.
I can take lashes.
There's another solution.
"List of Hungarian victims
of the Titanic"
Almost everyone travelling
first class was saved.
But he had a second-class ticket.
1517 killed. He is one of them.
And yesterday,
from all kinds of signs I deduced...
...that I'd be getting good news.
My dear son, let's pray.
The grandest ship in history.
A portentous name.
I should have thought of mythology.
The Titans were the
sons of the cruel Uranus...
...who devoured their own sons.
Repeat after me.
Lord have mercy upon us sinners
and hear our prayers.
We pray for our brothers
and sisters suffering in Purgatory.
Never shall I pray again.
Just hold him down.
What did you write in
your little diary yesterday?
Whom did you tell on?
Enough.
That's enough.
Hold him down.
Don't forget to include this!
- Father Zolt?n is rarely with us.
- Maybe he's ill. Or mourns his brother.
Or is confused.
We must persuade him.
His excessive
lenience results...
...in only anarchy.
We need to introduce only two
or three innovations.
They're good boys,
they would understand.
Halt.
Simon, step out.
What a surprise.
Stop it.
Who tied them together?
I shan't ask again,
who tied them together?
I shall ponder the punishment.
Simon and R?cz,
come and see me tonight.
Better have unfair punishment
than crimes go unavenged.
Who said that?
Johann Wolfgang Goethe said it.
I shan't mention his poems.
But he was a great statesman.
Now go.
I want to be Cicero.
He isn't involved
in the conspiracy.
Apparently he "looks with
such red, fiery eyes."
"Good evening, Casca:
will you bring Caesar home?"
Who will be Caesar? I suggest R?cz.
- I suggest G?czy.
- Me too, R?cz.
"Are we all ready?"
"What is now amiss that Caesar
and his Senate must redress?"
- Let me be Brutus!
- And me Antony!
Antony was a tall bloke.
Fine, you be Antony. I'll be
Cassius. G?czy, who're you?
Who am I? I really don't know.
I'm Brutus, I'm Brutus!
"Our enemies have beat us
to the pit:"
"It is more worthy to leap in
ourselves than tarry till they..."
I'll be the Soothsayer.
"Beware the ides of March."
I'll be the man who warns Caesar
of the danger, Artemidorus.
"Caesar, beware of Brutus;
take heed of Cassius;"
"come not near Casca; have an eye
to Cinna, trust not Trebonius:"
"mark well Metellus Cimber:
Decius Brutus loves thee not:"
"thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius."
My dear boys,
that is enough.
The performance has been cancelled.
I'm very sorry.
You've worked so hard, studied
the play, learnt your passages.
I'm really sorry. The Fathers
decided it wasn't timely now.
Please do not comment
on the event.
I've written something
on the blackboard that Cicero said.
Let's translate it
and call it a day.
I'd like a volunteer.
"There is no one who loves
pain itself, who seeks it"
"who wants to have it,
simply because it is pain..."
I have a bad feeling.
The last time
we were talking about inventions,
the many setbacks
and perseverance it takes.
How inventors kept starting anew,
even if they despaired at times.
Don't you forget that.
As to our Saturday meetings,
we'll have to suspend
them indefinitely.
Boys, boys, why are
you forcing me to do this?
Why can't you stop doing this?
So childish.
Wet towel, shoelaces, beetles.
Whatever.
Stand face to face.
A bit closer.
That's right.
R?cz, you tied
Simon's shoelaces together.
You owned up to it,
didn't you?
This is how it is going to be
from now on. Eye for an eye.
I want a virile, hard
slap on the face, Simon.
- A slap?
- No need to be sheepish.
You're not taking it,
you're giving it.
Give a hard one.
One that leaves a mark.
Simon?
Come on!
Simon!
Simon...
D'you call that a slap?
Do you call that virile?
R?cz, show this weakling
what a real slap feels like.
C'mon R?cz!
Give Simon a slap!
That's what I call a virile slap.
D'you see Simon?
Your turn.
C'mon Simon. Give him a slap.
He's coming.
Bromberg, hand out the copybooks.
The tests are null and void.
The class cheated.
Only Szebeni completed it
by himself...
...but if I'm not mistaken,
he produced the crib sheets.
This never used to happen before.
I don't know what's got into you.
What's going on here?
We're in a bad mood,
Father Zolt?n.
Dishonesty is warranted
by a bad mood then.
Duly noted.
And now we retake the test.
Each of you will have
an individual question.
You can start.
This is too much.
Have you seen Szebeni?
- Where?
- Watching from a window.
He'll report to Weigl that we left
school without permission.
A hundred lashes. Or a thousand.
- Scourges.
- That can hurt, for sure.
Up my arse.
I'm going to be an aeroplane
engineer. Did I tell you?
Is there such a thing?
There has to.
Someone has to design them.
I'm going to be a poet.
A great poet.
That isn't a profession.
Father Zolt?n.
Come, come in. Sit down.
Let me get to the point.
In a few hours
I shall be leaving the school.
I would liked to have said
goodbye to the class...
...but I wasn't allowed to.
Yet you're saying goodbye to me.
You're mature enough
not to misunderstand me.
You'II like my successor.
He's an excellent mathematician.
He employs amusing methods.
I wrote him a long letter,
introducing the class.
Everything has changed.
Everything's become nasty.
I don't understand anything.
I know. Last week,
after Father ?goston died...
...even the angels left the school.
- Is that why you are leaving?
- No, of course not.
That would count as an act of
abandonment.
It still feels like one.
I have to go.
Don't ask why because...
...I'm not going to answer.
That's an answer, too.
What is it?
I overheard you were
off. Why didn't you tell me?
Don't shout.
This is an old appointment.
For once, R?cz takes me
somewhere, and not me him.
Where? The cinema?
No, no, not there.
I only go there with you.
You'd better.
Watch out.
R?cz is a disgusting brute.
So am I sometimes.
So that's it. The famous
"Palace of Pleasures".
This?!
What did you expect?
There's a piano. And curtains
in the private box upstairs.
That redhead comes
from a saloon in Pest. From Pest!
So, shall we?
Look, I don't think I will.
Another time.
What?!
See you at school.
So finally you managed to show up,
Mr. Schoolboy.
I have a name, I told you.
I know. D?niel. I thought
you'd been devoured by lions.
You haven't come for weeks.
I didn't think I'd be missed.
Well, you weren't.
Aren't you going to ask
where my friend is?
Who?
Oh yes, your little friend.
Is he here too?
Nope. Are you sorry?
He will be sorry because
the manager has gone to Pest.
Now you can watch the newsreel.
I saw it last time. The three of us
watched it: you, my friend and I.
This one's new. It just came today.
And the two of you held hands
throughout.
You fool! He's just a little boy.
I saw it.
What did you see?
I'll show you
if you join me inside.
BOX OFFICE CLOSED.
- Have you ever kissed?
- No. And you?
I have, but that doesn't count.
I can teach you.
Would you like to?
Of course.
At last.
Have you been waiting for me?
Yep.
You knew I was still in town?
Yep.
Lipstick...
Just joking. Don't worry.
Look. I used your money
to buy a new pack of cards.
Wait.
Stay in your beds.
Brandy... Simon, a candle...
- Cards.
- Tobacco!
Aren't you interested, Szebeni?
Not the least bit.
What happened?
The Madame...
...didn't want to let me in at first.
At first.
Blonde or brunette?
Blonde.
Thin?
Just right.
Was she clean? Did she smell nice?
Stop it! We need to think up
something new.
What?
Fire?
Get a scarf.
We're going to blindfold you now.
Stand up.
Drink, Szebeni!
Sing!
Softly.
"I have but one sweetheart,
I give her my soul,"
"she is beautiful and so dear..."
Let's tickle him!
Let's tickle the traitor.
- Aren't you going to laugh?
- Harder!
Lay him on the bed.
Tickle him with this.
Go on!
Tickle him!
What's this?
Tickle him! Tickle him!
No..!
Did you teach the traitor a lesson?
I did.
Translated by Nicholas Bodoczky
Poem by Endre Ady
translated by Alan Dixon
...I can promise that you'll have
little time for daydreaming.
Not one moment, in fact.
Led by your teachers, who are
peerless in their respective fields...
...you'll begin your course
up a flight of stairs...
...to become, one fine day,
respectable men of our country.
Possibly, some of you will falter
or go astray on the road.
For as we know, chances are
in abundance to sin...
- One, two, three, rock.
- 7:5.
- Scissors.
- 8:6.
- Stone.
- 9:6.
- Scissors.
- 10:6.
I won. I'm the best.
...at times like these despondency
and despair overcome your souls.
They're dancing!
This is the predecessor of
film, boys.
Originally it is called
"Ars Magna Lucis et Umbrae."
And this is the most famous
moving image, the Rat Eater.
All are independent images.
Our brain sets them in motion.
Double!
Redouble!
- Wearing your glasses, eh, Szebeni?
- Of course.
Watch it. Don't let it fog up.
Hearts. Ulti captured.
Well, well.
I thought I was dreaming.
You'll be sleepy tomorrow.
A hard day ahead.
What's your first class?
I didn't ask you.
First class is algebra.
It's my principle that
the first sin shall be forgiven.
We all err.
Do you agree, boys?
Good. Then pick up that filth.
Everyone their own. And get lost.
You stay.
I can see you won.
Do you play well?
Fairly well.
Ulti?
Ulti.
Can I have a look?
- Is it yours?
- It's mine.
Hold the candle. Closer.
I see now.
Did you mark every card
or just the high-ranked ones?
Why so tongue-tied?
Only the kings. And the aces.
How petty.
You can leave.
Sorry. Really sorry.
Trees are blooming
a second time around this year.
See these white threads?
Tiny spiders weave them
and use them as airships...
...to escape bad weather.
I don't feel scents nowadays.
I'm not cold, I'm not hot.
I can't taste flavours either,
it's as if I were eating sawdust.
Time stands still,
like in a photograph.
Have I shown you, Father ?goston?
My little brother.
I don't know what I'd do
if I didn't have this picture.
"Milan.
Before the fatal match."
This paper will soon get eaten by
dust and there'll be nothing left.
Who's my master? No one!
Who's mightier than I? No one!
Come and touch my hump! Moles!
What a brute. I had an idiot
like him in my old school.
He wanted us to address him as
"Your Excellency."
- He's been with a woman.
- Come on! How do you know?
Everybody knows.
- What sort of a woman?
- The female sort.
A housemaid, a whore, a lady?
Then along came that Englishman...
...split my little brother's eardrum,
deafened him for good.
In my conceit I fathomed I can
challenge the phrase "for good."
And that the doctor in Boston
will work wonders.
Boys! Boys...
This is a good place.
I like it here.
What are you rambling about,
Szebeni?
It's better here
than in my old school.
- Are you mad?
- Szebeni's a moron! He likes it here!
Are you ill, Szebeni?
A good place, this?
Reveille at five-thirty.
Morning wash. Ice-cold water.
Mass at six-twenty.
Dormitory check at seven.
Egg barley soup.
Penance! Push-up! Shut up!
They censor your readings...
...search your pockets and make you
run in place in the rain.
And they keep preaching ad nauseam!
And you call this a good place?
Have you memorized the disciplinary
measures, Szebeni? D'you know 'em?
Leave him alone!
Do you or don't you?
Gentlemen, stop chasing it!
He too is God's creature:
"Rattus norvegicus".
There are scientific methods to chase
it out of the house.
Now go to your classrooms.
Anyone who doesn't
won't get any supper.
Rome. Imperial palace.
Early morning,
an old man wishes to see the ruler.
He's wearing red shoes
with four leather straps...
...a broad purple band on his toga,
gold rings on his fingers.
What does this attire imply?
Tell him! Do you want to
write a test?
That attire in those days
was worn by senators.
Precisely.
The bodyguards took the old senator
before Marcus Aurelius.
"What brings you here, my friend?"
the emperor asked.
"I'm worried for my only son, Sir,
he is but fourteen years of age."
The senator explains...
...that the previous night his son was
arrested by the sentinels...
...near Mars Ultor temple...
...and he is still being held.
He has done nothing.
He was running in an alleyway
with a jackdaw in his hand...
...and a gang of lads chased him,
yelling "thief! thief!"
There was quite a scuffle.
Who knows what
"Mars Ultor" means?
Vengeful Mars.
Take a look at this.
Ok, now I've seen it. You can
put it back where you found it.
You're their homeroom teacher,
Father Zolt?n. This is G?czy's bed.
- What do you intend to...
- Nothing.
I don't "intend" anything.
You've just started here.
Do not judge too hastily.
For the time being consider
yourself Guardian of the Gate.
What sort of Gate?
We need to find out
where it leads to.
I am sorry, Father,
I don't understand.
And this?
Where does this lead?
Third time this week they've
done it to Szebeni.
You know,
the boy with the spectacles.
I know.
I'll find the culprits
and crack down on them.
Do you think this is a sin?
In every possible way.
I ask you not to interfere.
Let's not spoil their fun.
What sort of fun
are you talking about?
I wasn't happy either to find pins
and nails hidden in my pillows...
...or to climb into bed only to land
in a bowl of ice cold water.
But the next day
I did the same to someone else.
We took and we gave.
I poured water in someone's shoe...
...next morning I woke up to find
my feet getting roasted with matches.
We'd sew together
the legs of trousers, hide books...
...roll dead beetles into bread...
...and hide spectacles, pocket watches
and pens in secret dens.
These are just pranks.
The emperor listens empathically
to the senator's complaint...
...and promises that his son would be
at home in an hour's time.
The relieved senator leaves.
Marcus Aurelius then summons
the commander of the night guard.
The commander claims the senator's
son acted provokingly...
...so one of the guards, Sextus,
was forced to use his spear.
Szebeni, up here,
you're going to be the emperor.
And we'll also need a Sextus.
Sextus is a gigantic lad.
Voice brazen,
fist like a rock.
- Who wishes to be Sextus?
- Me!
Szebeni! What are you
fiddling with down there?
My spectacles disappeared.
- You killed the boy?!
- I killed him.
He was only fourteen years of age.
Playing with a jackdaw.
- How could you do such a thing?!
- He was kicking and screaming.
You killed without reason,
Sextus. That is a capital crime.
Do you know what lies in store
for a Roman soldier...
...who commits a capital crime?
The criminal is led out into
the courtyard of the garrison.
At the captain's signal,
the mercenaries attack him...
...beat him with sticks,
stones, bats until he...
Sextus was unable to continue.
This beef of a man stood
in front of the emperor, frightened.
Let them get away with it.
After all, they're just pulling pranks.
Colts. Little colts.
But there's something else
I'd like to show you.
Did you hurt yourself?
Is it broken?
Maybe not.
But it hurts like hell.
Oops! See that?
A string.
It's not a string, Father Zolt?n.
It's a prank. Mischief.
This silence makes me
claustrophobic.
- Makes you what?
- Ssh!
A Hungarian doesn't talk
while eating.
Five crowns to whoever bursts into
a song right here, right now.
Money on the table.
"There's a poor orphan girl,
she has no mother, no father..."
"...naught to love her,
but she has a friend: solitude."
Pick any teacher, and for five crowns,
I'll smack him so hard.
Aren't we waiting for R?cz?
- He's not coming today.
- Why not?
Didn't say.
- It's raining. Don't you mind?
- It's just a drizzle.
The angels are weeping. No wonder.
People are killing each other
in the Balkans again.
You have a nasty cough.
If I were you I'd go to Pest
and have myself examined...
...with the invention of that German
doctor called Roentgen.
Not that... Never.
Do you believe in the afterlife?
I think the Church uses that story
to hold its believers in line.
It's so quiet here!
It reminds me of a poem by Ady.
Do you know Ady?
Endre Ady? Well, not really.
Well, listen then:
"I walk the forest
in the moonlight..."
"...and whistle through
my chattering teeth..."
"...stalking behind me ten feet tall
Good Prince Silence..."
"... - 'mercy' - I tremble,
dare not turn."
Do you like it?
D'you want me to continue?
I don't have a knack for these things.
I'll take you in today, OK?
I've no money.
Only three crowns.
Haven't you got three crowns?
You must be joking.
The newsreel, that's the best part.
- Have you never seen a newsreel?
- Never.
- Are we going in?
- We are, but later.
- When?
- When it starts.
Miss Paula.
Why, look who it is, Mr. Schoolboy!
One for tonight's show?
I've just popped in with my friend.
Let me introduce him.
Beck. What's you're first name?
Never mind.
- Pleased to meet you.
- The pleasure is all mine.
My friend has never seen a film.
Five minutes, no more.
The manager might show up.
Your friend can go in
for five minutes.
Your skin is like a silk necktie.
- You can take a seat inside, too.
- I prefer to woo you instead.
Not today. Some other time.
- When?
- Sometime.
"The famous escape artist Morton
has been frozen in a block of ice..."
"...and is now loaded onto a train
and transported to Philadelphia."
To continue our little discussion
last week about sin and sinners...
Perhaps you remember.
I thought
we'd got to the end of it.
It never ends.
I hoped I convinced you,
Father Weigl.
Half convinced me. I let your infinite
benevolence assuage me..
...or shall we call it gullibility?
- Is there something I should know?
- Perhaps.
Indulge me, please.
Let's see. Cards are not sinful...
...although we do say
they're the Devil's game.
Cards? Oh come on! I'm aware
the boys play ultimo. I don't care.
And one of them is
winning too much.
Takes it all. Literally.
- Takes it all?
- Yes.
Slowly, every night
he's bleeding dry the entire class.
He's been at it for weeks.
The only question is...
What is the question?
The question is to what does he
owe his outrageous luck?
Chance? Card skills?
The stupidity of others?
Or could it be something else?
If a kid were to, say,
mark the cards...
...and this is mere speculation...
...and strip his classmates
slowly and methodically:
...would that too be just a prank?
A falter?
Have you seen boobs,
Szebeni?
I can't imagine he's ever seen any.
Bromberg, I bet he hasn't.
Szebeni doesn't even want
to see boobs!
He'll remain a virgin all his life.
Did you know, Szebeni...
...that the Mayans,
when praying for rain...
...- betli, a full -...
...they threw virgin boys into the
dried wells. Pardon - grace.
Ready for a betli?
Two coins from you, Bromberg,
two from the virgin.
Who's my master? No one!
Who's mightier than I? No one!
You're a cheat. You cheat.
Say that again.
I've been watching you.
You're cheating.
Cane doesn't work,
next time I'll use a whip...
...and if that doesn't help,
you'll be expelled.
Disgrace for disgrace.
You've blown the web of obedience
to smithereens...
...trampled on the commands like
a swine. Demons hid in that swine...
...demons, demons, demons!
Five minutes!
Oh sir! Father Weigl!
What are you oohing about? Why aren't
you running around with the others?
What a beautiful carving.
May I have a look?
You may.
Line up in double files.
Straight as an arrow.
No chit-chat, keep in line!
Crawling is the cornerstone
of a victorious attack!
A real soldier slithers and crawls
like a snake.
Attention! Crawl!
He's off the deep end again. Who
here wants to be a real soldier?
No one until there's a Monarchy
and that old fool is on the throne.
Of course, if the war breaks out...
What war? It's not my war.
I wouldn't take part.
Then you'll be a deserter
and be shot.
C'mon, moron,
this is the 20th century.
- Do you see any wars looming?
- Balkans. China. Everywhere.
I'm talking about Europe.
Can you divulge the topic
of your discussion?
The ruins reminded me of
a Japanese saying.
Let's hear it.
"Turn to the ruins if you wish
to learn more about ruins."
Japanese? Wonderful.
- I know a longer one, too.
- Let's hear it.
"I see summits..."
"...and rugged cliffs
and flowery meadows..."
"...under a golden Moon."
That's a poem, idiot.
Stand up!
Form a line around the apse!
This isn't over yet.
I couldn't care less. I'll smack
him around for ten crowns.
And I'll yank his ears
until they both fall off.
G?czy and K?llner! Fifty.
"Turn to your arm if you wish
to learn more about your arm."
A Japanese poem.
Stand up! Stop!
Mutiny! Anarchy!
Stand up! You too, stand up!
- Only 27, sir!
- Stand up!
This is mutiny. Stand up. Stop.
Hey, you... give us our grub.
None for you.
What's that supposed to mean?
No grub today. Maybe not even
tomorrow. That's all we were told.
I know of a starvation artist
who's paraded around in a cage.
He held out for forty days.
They gave him lemon and water
from time to time.
Moron, shut your mouth or I'll
punch you. Get us our supper now.
Careful, the principal!
Seventh-graders won't be
receiving supper for a while.
The reason: anarchic behaviour
during physical exercise.
Penalties of this sort are usually
meted for a whole week...
...but thanks to Father Zolt?n's
intercession...
...we shall content ourselves
with three days this time.
However, as cumulative
punishment, the chief culprits...
...D?niel G?czy,
Gy?rgy Beck and L?szl? K?lner...
...shall have to kneel for the
duration of supper deprivation.
You may begin at once, boys.
Excuse me, sir...
- The Rats?
- What?!
Are you watching the Rat Eater?
No. Not the Rat Eater.
What do you want, Szebeni?
Why did you come to me?
I lost my...
What?
My diary.
Here? In my cell?
You want to find it here?
Of course not.
Keeping a diary? Excellent.
Self-knowledge
develops character.
What did it look like?
A small, lined copybook.
Keep better watch of your
personal belongings, Szebeni.
I'll ask the Brothers
to keep their eyes open.
Now go, Szebeni.
Throw the ball high, it plummets,
then slam it with your forehead.
Use your neck. Your neck!
What are you doing? Come on.
You can head from the hand, too.
And the arse. Care to show us?
Sorry. I'm only looking for my
copybook. It has a blue cover.
Have you seen it?
I saw a copybook under a tree this
morning. But it had a green cover.
- Which tree?
- So what was it? Blue or green?
- I don't know, I'm colorblind.
- Me too.
Come in.
I'm sorry. I'll be just a moment.
According to the weather forecast,
we're in for a severely cold
winter this year.
Harsh frost, fog,
Egyptian darkness at times.
That sort of weather
is bad for football.
The boys will be at risk
for idleness of the body...
...sluggishness of heart and mind.
That can lead to fits of temper...
...aggression, and what is
most dangerous, melancholy.
You obviously know better than I
that during the Inquisition...
...the melancholic were burnt
at the stake...
...because they were
thought to be infectious.
Fortunately, I have an idea
how to prevent that from happening.
How?
We shall introduce boxing.
Boxing can be pursued indoors...
...and it can help vent
pent-up frustration.
M?r J?kai once said,
"our best ally is our own fist."
Of course,
we can't do without gloves...
What are you doing?! You can't
touch those. Put them back!
Right away,
just let me delight in them.
That's amazing - it's the best
brand in the world.
How dare you! Stop it!
"Everlast" - Father, you're hiding
a real wonder in your cell.
You can't do that,
stop it, stop it, stop it!
Where did you get it?
Did you ever box?
The two of us could give
the kids a presentation...
Enough!
I had hoped...
Never mind. I give up.
The rule is to collect twenty-five
snow-white pebbles in two minutes.
Strictly snow-white ones.
Only two minutes isn't enough.
At least I haven't succeeded yet.
And if you did succeed?
I would receive news...
Go on...
...that my brother is alive -
that is the news I'm waiting for.
All they informed me of insofar is
that he disappeared.
My son... My dear son.
I was practically panhandling to raise
money for the ferry ticket.
I'm alone responsible... Me alone.
He'd come to terms with
his deafness but I pushed him...
...saying you must get better,
you must...
And if I did it out of
selfish ambition?
So that
I too could bask in glory?
Surely Providence cannot impose
such a sin upon me.
The following story
took place in 1765...
...in a Benedictine monastery
in the Carpathian mountains.
There lived a highly educated
young monk called Cyprian...
...who was obsessed with flying.
For years
he worked on his invention...
...in the secret of the night,
in the cellars of the monastery.
Then early one morning
he decided the time was right...
...and he slipped out of
the monastery...
...dragging behind his contraption.
He climbed up to the top of
a nearby mountain, 1000 metres high...
...attached the device to his arms,
muttered a prayer and ascended.
He was truly swimming in the air.
His fellow monks watched Brother
Cyprian in awe and suspicion.
The Bishop of Nitra ordered
that this so-called "Devil's Chariot"...
...be burnt in public -
in the market place.
A huge crowd gathered round.
The proceedings were accompanied
by rude yells and cackles.
Subsequently, Cyprian
was expelled from the monastery...
...on charges of shaking hands with
the Devil.
That's all for now. We'll turn to the
subject of gravity after snack time.
Anybody hungry?
That was how things were
with flying in the old days.
Slander and failure and ignorance.
Times have changed since then.
But will J?kai be proven right?
"Flying will bring
everlasting peace on Earth."
A nice thought. But I'm not so sure
it holds up any more.
My dad, too, is waiting for the
Golden Age, but my grandfather says...
...that history ended
with the Battle of K?niggr?tz...
...and no big changes are expected.
And you, what do you think?
I believe that crazy acts
make the world go round.
What are you doing here
at half past three in the morning?
Show me your hands.
You'll get expelled for this.
Oh... I only...
It was only meant to be a joke...
A joke? Fun? A laugh?
To humiliate the Principal,
the choir and the congregation?
- But...
- Don't say a word.
You'd just be Iying. Mocking.
Tomorrow you'll visit Father
Damian. He's your confessor, right?
Good, so he'll hear your
confession, give you penance...
...and we'll forget about it.
But you should know
I could have you expelled...
...if it weren't for your parents
who are such decent folk.
- Now begone.
- Yes. Thank you.
Only I'd like to clean up.
These are consecrated objects.
Consecrated floors.
I shan't have you soil them
even more.
Go away, will you!
I would've come earlier, but some
idiot tied together a bunch of shoes.
Tough luck.
- Are we going to get off lightly?
- Perhaps.
If it weren't for Father Zolt?n, I'd
by chucked out of here.
- As would I.
- They wouldn't know about you.
- But I would tell them.
- It wouldn't help me.
- Still, we did it, mate!
- You did it. A heroic deed.
Don't be silly, we planned it
together. Only I had the ink.
Status: in hiding. Reason:
fear of literature test.
Father ?goston is under
the weather.
I'm substituting him,
so there will be no test.
Sit back now.
It is public knowledge that
I am a humorless man.
I consider humor to be repulsive.
And poetry, too. Understand?
Good. That's settled.
The man's insane.
The other day
I came across a copybook.
Among the notes I discovered
a thought that I recommend...
...to use as a guiding principle
along the bumpy path of your lives.
The sentence reads as such:
"It is as simple to keep going as
it is hard to know why."
Let me repeat:
"It is as simple to keep going as
it is hard to know why."
That copybook...
I lost that copybook.
Did you? Good news.
Authorless scribbles and stray dogs
are so depressing.
- Can I have it back?
- What do you mean?
Give it back, sir. Please.
I realise it's a precious object.
Its contents are also precious.
As they say, it is confessional.
You write fondly of your mother.
Please don't...
You mustn't, it's private.
My mother is a rose, a violet,
and springtime dawn.
Are great minds born or nurtured,
and what are their characteristics?
- Really nothing to add to that.
- Please give my copybook back.
Self-love is a bit excessive:
"I'm overcome with melancholy.
Who am I, what am I?"
"I'm surrounded
by searching glances."
- Loving your neighbour is...
- This is torture!
Our Japanese scholar.
Is this your field, too?
Szebeni's copybook is his own!
Who else's would it be?
You heard:
"It is as simple to keep going as
it is hard to know why."
We all know what it means
to keep going.
But there can be so many
reasons.
I want to know why you dream
of smacking teachers around.
You deny it?
Rise up, vermin!
This scribble plainly illustrates,
who and how many smackeroos.
But the motive goes unmentioned
by our faithful chronicler.
Bloody stool pigeon!
Informer.
Even feels sorry for himself!
Traitor! Informant!
Shut up.
He didn't squeal on anybody.
He was scribbling for himself only.
Unfortunately, he lost his copybook.
On the first page he drew a skull,
and wrote:
"Woe betide he who reads this."
Woe to me. But I'm alive.
So, the slappings.
The other teachers aren't here,
so I shan't mention them.
Mih?ly R?cz offered to give me
two punches and a nose twist...
...against the sum of five crowns. Why?
Stand up.
I'm waiting to hear your answer.
It was just a joke.
Joke?
Like I said, I have no
sense of humour.
So Mih?ly R?cz, go ahead
and accomplish your wish.
Two punches and a nose twist.
Are you afraid?
Sir, you're provoking him!
D?niel G?czy would smack
me hard...
...and yank my ears
till they fell off.
All for ten crowns.
Let's see, then. Here's ten.
I'll even put up the money.
Come on! A smack and the ears.
Loudmouths.
Never short of great ideas.
Only lacking execution.
Take Szebeni,
our chronicler, for example.
He'd slap me so hard on the nape
of the neck that I'd fall over.
Let's see.
Szebeni, at least you should
make your dreams come true.
Come.
Enter. Close the door.
Come closer.
Where're your boots?
The boys tied some boots
together.
This has to come to an end.
The Devil is teasing you all.
Stand on one leg.
Now on the other one.
Pity about you, Szebeni.
You're a good observer.
You'd make a fine
war correspondent.
Do you know the rules of
disciplinary measures?
I do.
Which is the most severe
punishment? Lift the leg higher.
In the case of indisputable
moral corruption...
...a nationwide ban from all schools.
Indeed. I haven't yet mentioned
what transpired to anyone.
But in the morning I shall have to
report it to the Principal.
That would kill my mother.
My dad, you know...
Not so loud.
I hate emotional blackmail.
Please beat me,
every day, all year round.
And don't give me any food.
And I'll kneel.
I wanted to do no harm.
Only everyone mocks me.
They think I'm a coward.
Please whip me.
I can take lashes.
There's another solution.
"List of Hungarian victims
of the Titanic"
Almost everyone travelling
first class was saved.
But he had a second-class ticket.
1517 killed. He is one of them.
And yesterday,
from all kinds of signs I deduced...
...that I'd be getting good news.
My dear son, let's pray.
The grandest ship in history.
A portentous name.
I should have thought of mythology.
The Titans were the
sons of the cruel Uranus...
...who devoured their own sons.
Repeat after me.
Lord have mercy upon us sinners
and hear our prayers.
We pray for our brothers
and sisters suffering in Purgatory.
Never shall I pray again.
Just hold him down.
What did you write in
your little diary yesterday?
Whom did you tell on?
Enough.
That's enough.
Hold him down.
Don't forget to include this!
- Father Zolt?n is rarely with us.
- Maybe he's ill. Or mourns his brother.
Or is confused.
We must persuade him.
His excessive
lenience results...
...in only anarchy.
We need to introduce only two
or three innovations.
They're good boys,
they would understand.
Halt.
Simon, step out.
What a surprise.
Stop it.
Who tied them together?
I shan't ask again,
who tied them together?
I shall ponder the punishment.
Simon and R?cz,
come and see me tonight.
Better have unfair punishment
than crimes go unavenged.
Who said that?
Johann Wolfgang Goethe said it.
I shan't mention his poems.
But he was a great statesman.
Now go.
I want to be Cicero.
He isn't involved
in the conspiracy.
Apparently he "looks with
such red, fiery eyes."
"Good evening, Casca:
will you bring Caesar home?"
Who will be Caesar? I suggest R?cz.
- I suggest G?czy.
- Me too, R?cz.
"Are we all ready?"
"What is now amiss that Caesar
and his Senate must redress?"
- Let me be Brutus!
- And me Antony!
Antony was a tall bloke.
Fine, you be Antony. I'll be
Cassius. G?czy, who're you?
Who am I? I really don't know.
I'm Brutus, I'm Brutus!
"Our enemies have beat us
to the pit:"
"It is more worthy to leap in
ourselves than tarry till they..."
I'll be the Soothsayer.
"Beware the ides of March."
I'll be the man who warns Caesar
of the danger, Artemidorus.
"Caesar, beware of Brutus;
take heed of Cassius;"
"come not near Casca; have an eye
to Cinna, trust not Trebonius:"
"mark well Metellus Cimber:
Decius Brutus loves thee not:"
"thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius."
My dear boys,
that is enough.
The performance has been cancelled.
I'm very sorry.
You've worked so hard, studied
the play, learnt your passages.
I'm really sorry. The Fathers
decided it wasn't timely now.
Please do not comment
on the event.
I've written something
on the blackboard that Cicero said.
Let's translate it
and call it a day.
I'd like a volunteer.
"There is no one who loves
pain itself, who seeks it"
"who wants to have it,
simply because it is pain..."
I have a bad feeling.
The last time
we were talking about inventions,
the many setbacks
and perseverance it takes.
How inventors kept starting anew,
even if they despaired at times.
Don't you forget that.
As to our Saturday meetings,
we'll have to suspend
them indefinitely.
Boys, boys, why are
you forcing me to do this?
Why can't you stop doing this?
So childish.
Wet towel, shoelaces, beetles.
Whatever.
Stand face to face.
A bit closer.
That's right.
R?cz, you tied
Simon's shoelaces together.
You owned up to it,
didn't you?
This is how it is going to be
from now on. Eye for an eye.
I want a virile, hard
slap on the face, Simon.
- A slap?
- No need to be sheepish.
You're not taking it,
you're giving it.
Give a hard one.
One that leaves a mark.
Simon?
Come on!
Simon!
Simon...
D'you call that a slap?
Do you call that virile?
R?cz, show this weakling
what a real slap feels like.
C'mon R?cz!
Give Simon a slap!
That's what I call a virile slap.
D'you see Simon?
Your turn.
C'mon Simon. Give him a slap.
He's coming.
Bromberg, hand out the copybooks.
The tests are null and void.
The class cheated.
Only Szebeni completed it
by himself...
...but if I'm not mistaken,
he produced the crib sheets.
This never used to happen before.
I don't know what's got into you.
What's going on here?
We're in a bad mood,
Father Zolt?n.
Dishonesty is warranted
by a bad mood then.
Duly noted.
And now we retake the test.
Each of you will have
an individual question.
You can start.
This is too much.
Have you seen Szebeni?
- Where?
- Watching from a window.
He'll report to Weigl that we left
school without permission.
A hundred lashes. Or a thousand.
- Scourges.
- That can hurt, for sure.
Up my arse.
I'm going to be an aeroplane
engineer. Did I tell you?
Is there such a thing?
There has to.
Someone has to design them.
I'm going to be a poet.
A great poet.
That isn't a profession.
Father Zolt?n.
Come, come in. Sit down.
Let me get to the point.
In a few hours
I shall be leaving the school.
I would liked to have said
goodbye to the class...
...but I wasn't allowed to.
Yet you're saying goodbye to me.
You're mature enough
not to misunderstand me.
You'II like my successor.
He's an excellent mathematician.
He employs amusing methods.
I wrote him a long letter,
introducing the class.
Everything has changed.
Everything's become nasty.
I don't understand anything.
I know. Last week,
after Father ?goston died...
...even the angels left the school.
- Is that why you are leaving?
- No, of course not.
That would count as an act of
abandonment.
It still feels like one.
I have to go.
Don't ask why because...
...I'm not going to answer.
That's an answer, too.
What is it?
I overheard you were
off. Why didn't you tell me?
Don't shout.
This is an old appointment.
For once, R?cz takes me
somewhere, and not me him.
Where? The cinema?
No, no, not there.
I only go there with you.
You'd better.
Watch out.
R?cz is a disgusting brute.
So am I sometimes.
So that's it. The famous
"Palace of Pleasures".
This?!
What did you expect?
There's a piano. And curtains
in the private box upstairs.
That redhead comes
from a saloon in Pest. From Pest!
So, shall we?
Look, I don't think I will.
Another time.
What?!
See you at school.
So finally you managed to show up,
Mr. Schoolboy.
I have a name, I told you.
I know. D?niel. I thought
you'd been devoured by lions.
You haven't come for weeks.
I didn't think I'd be missed.
Well, you weren't.
Aren't you going to ask
where my friend is?
Who?
Oh yes, your little friend.
Is he here too?
Nope. Are you sorry?
He will be sorry because
the manager has gone to Pest.
Now you can watch the newsreel.
I saw it last time. The three of us
watched it: you, my friend and I.
This one's new. It just came today.
And the two of you held hands
throughout.
You fool! He's just a little boy.
I saw it.
What did you see?
I'll show you
if you join me inside.
BOX OFFICE CLOSED.
- Have you ever kissed?
- No. And you?
I have, but that doesn't count.
I can teach you.
Would you like to?
Of course.
At last.
Have you been waiting for me?
Yep.
You knew I was still in town?
Yep.
Lipstick...
Just joking. Don't worry.
Look. I used your money
to buy a new pack of cards.
Wait.
Stay in your beds.
Brandy... Simon, a candle...
- Cards.
- Tobacco!
Aren't you interested, Szebeni?
Not the least bit.
What happened?
The Madame...
...didn't want to let me in at first.
At first.
Blonde or brunette?
Blonde.
Thin?
Just right.
Was she clean? Did she smell nice?
Stop it! We need to think up
something new.
What?
Fire?
Get a scarf.
We're going to blindfold you now.
Stand up.
Drink, Szebeni!
Sing!
Softly.
"I have but one sweetheart,
I give her my soul,"
"she is beautiful and so dear..."
Let's tickle him!
Let's tickle the traitor.
- Aren't you going to laugh?
- Harder!
Lay him on the bed.
Tickle him with this.
Go on!
Tickle him!
What's this?
Tickle him! Tickle him!
No..!
Did you teach the traitor a lesson?
I did.
Translated by Nicholas Bodoczky
Poem by Endre Ady
translated by Alan Dixon