Ének a búzamezökröl (1947) - full transcript
The Hungarian Central News Agency
presents
Song of the Corn Field
Adapted and directed by István Szőts
based on a novel by Ferenc Móra
Art advisor
Music
Cinematographer
Assistant director
Sound editor
Set designer
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Starring
Music played by
Studio
In great misery
our country calls:
Don't forget
our dear country,
Hungary,
and the poor Hungarians.
Let's pray for our brothers who are far away
so that they may come home
as soon as possible
in order to sow and beget children
for the benefit of the homeland.
Our Father, which art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come; thy will be done,
in earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive them that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil. Amen.
Mother, when will father arrive?
Rókus! Rókus!
- Who's that?
- It's me.
The notary sent me.
- Who's that?
- It's Gyurka Messzi, the ranger.
We found him! Rókus.
Rókus.
Rókus.
Found.
Or rather, not found but lost.
He's missing in action.
The army's announcement was this.
MIA.
Missing.
The State removed a strong man
from his family
and when the State should return him
it says that he has gone missing.
Like a mangy little kitten, or a chick.
Where did they send him?
Why wasn't he taken care of?
Are you kidding me?
The reverend's sermon applies to you, too.
"You're like Potiphar's wife, the impertinent,
and the dishonourable
daughters of Jezebel."
I needed a translator.
Someone with whom I could
compose a letter to Ferenc.
Why do you hurt him? He's a good man.
He kept his farm well-maintained.
He likes children, takes care of everything.
Takes good care of her, too!
I have to join the army
I have to leave my babe behind
Give me a break, damned judge,
you will rue the day!
The war is over!
The Hungarian freedom is here at last.
The war is over!
The prisoners can go home,
our boys can come back home.
That's it. Freedom! Arise, Hungarians, now!
What will you do if Ferenc returns, Piros?
What happened to her?
She was singing yesterday.
I told her she'll calm down
when Ferenc returns.
That was the problem.
She was informed yesterday
about Ferenc's arrival.
Piros was frightened.
She wanted to hasten the process,
to get it over with as soon as possible.
War causes much trouble, no doubt.
I wish those were the only casualties
who had perished on the battlefield.
The war has not ended yet.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
I'll leave him alone.
He is loud enough to wake the dead.
So what will happen to the child?
I told you: we adopt him
until his father arrives.
Whence?
Siberia.
Through China and America.
I don't want it.
I ate one too many mouldy breads.
Bread made from tree roots.
I don't like it any more.
Bojszi. My little Bojszi.
And this is... the little bunny!
I don't need no bunny, I need the bear!
You want the bear? All right.
A little bit more...
Greetings.
- Greetings.
- Oh!
Look who's here! Ferenc!
Péterke.
Look at what daddy has brought you.
I'd like to have a good bath.
I came straight from the internment camp.
Oh my God!
Oh yes.
He's been here ever since.
Poor soul.
I've heard about that case.
How are you?
I lead an austere life.
I feel piercing pain near my liver.
I caught a cold in Murman.
- I've been coughing since then.
- We cough until we die.
- How did you say that? Where?
- In Murman.
Our Rókus vanished there, too.
Well, not exactly there.
- Not there? Have you seen him?
- Of course I have.
We escaped together, that's why.
I got away alone though.
It was me who closed his eyelids.
Did you bury him?
The ground was ice cold.
I buried him in moss and leaves.
He didn't have anything else
besides this small piece of paper.
If people were not able to sigh,
they would...
...choke to death.
Ferenc is quite a lucky man.
Our land is full of groundwater
but his field is perfect.
Let me tell you:
these lands will be united one day.
I can cook basically anything I want,
whether it's paprika potatoes, potato soup
egg barley
or sour potatoes.
You deserve a woman,
not only this huge pile of potatoes.
Enough is enough.
What about the child?
Listen here Etel,
this will suit the son of Ferenc.
But dear Szüle,
how he would be sneering at you!
- It belongs in the hearth.
- This?
He could make use of it on a stubble field,
after harvest.
Not in the near future, for sure, Szüle.
Old women are prudent.
- Good evening.
- Good evening.
I came for Péterke.
I could hardly recognize you, Etel.
You resemble Russian women.
- You've got to be kidding.
- I'm not.
There are these blonde, pale-skinned types.
You will visit us more often, then,
if you want to see a "Russian" woman.
I know you got used to Russian women.
I've had enough of them.
Don't disturb Etel and Ferenc!
They should be there, together.
Some say it is diluted with water.
Nowadays, cowsheds are lit electrically
in America.
It seems like you've grown to love America.
I loved it for a while,
but I got homesick after all.
Your home country is where your family is.
Yes. But not only that.
The soil is different. So is the wheat.
And... everything.
How long have you been living
with your mother-in-law like this, Etel?
Only around this time of the year.
During winter.
We can share the lighting this way.
We doubled up.
I'll go back when springtime comes.
I must see that once.
I have to go now.
They are having a ball.
I will draw the curtains next time.
I must knead the dough today.
Good night, Etel.
Be careful: don't let the
pasta reek of tobacco!
Have you seen something, Etel?
I'm only searching for the jug.
My mouth is dry.
It's awfully hot because of this furnace.
What do you think?
Will they be the subject of a sermon?
Of course.
I'm familiar with womankind well enough.
Wild fowl grow tame when they get hungry.
You have to proceed gingerly
with Ferenc though,
because we don't know his inner self.
The lands will be united no matter what.
What are you doing?
Special bread. It attracts menfolk.
Mátyás got one too when he was small.
You surely didn't eat
anything like this in Russia.
That's true.
What kind of bread do the Russians eat?
Did you have military flour?
Do they like it with corn?
It depends on...
Ferenc, you're not a bread enthusiast,
are you?
I'm not.
My poor Rókus loved it.
He was dying for bread.
I became a prisoner of war near Königgrätz.
They made me plough a large territory
and sow millet.
To this very day I still prefer
sausage
to mush-filled millet pudding.
Wine, wheat, peace, and a pretty woman!
Here's to health and strength.
I'm not too fond of poppy seed strudels.
Since
famine was so severe in Königgrätz that
crescent rolls were dusted with gunpowder
instead of poppy seeds.
Why did you step on my foot?
I thought you were going to say
something else, brother-in-law.
When the Holy God
in Heaven
conceived the Holy Trinity...
When God
conceived the Holy Trinity... in Heaven...
Enough said, Uncle Gyuri.
You should rather drink.
No. I cannot.
Drinking is allowed.
I was hired to...
What the dickens?
So that I can tell this decent iron pot that...
And to you too.
Why are you whining?
When the Holy God...
Golden lamb, golden ram,
they will clash soon.
Am I right, 'in-law Mátyás?
Don't you think so?
- The rain has stopped. I can leave now.
- Don't go!
What shall I do with this old, dirty swine?
I'll show you what you ought to do.
- Get away!
- Oh, you bastard.
These rambling soldiers are boozing all day
instead of searching for Serbian troops
at the demarcation line.
They steal chickens at night,
and molest women.
Did you hear it? What was that?
I'm sure those hungry fugitive soldiers
came here to steal chicken.
They're probably in the vicinity,
near Etel's farm.
Good thing she didn't take the child home.
Blimey.
Will you open it, woman?
The sergeant is so tired
that he'd rather sleep. Haha!
Call Ferenc! He has a rifle. Fast!
The soldiers will burst the door upon Etel
any time now.
So what? It's hard as a stone rood.
She can withstand what others can.
She won't be riding the high horse at least.
Forget horses, she's your daughter-in-law!
All right, all right. I'm so afraid, though.
Go!
How could I leave the farm behind?
We have horses,
the cows are in the shed,
and I can't leave you here anyway.
Can we go in, or will you come out?
Don't peep at me!
I don't even have my clothes on.
We like it that way. Ha ha ha.
Huh? Can't you hear me?
Their manners are inappropriate.
Whenever I visit them they're always
slobbering over each other.
This is unacceptable!
I feel shame when I look at them.
Don't watch them then.
This is a disease from which
everyone will eventually recover from.
We know that well.
Night-night.
You can be honest with me.
I've already heard that story.
- Which story?
- Rókus' story.
You heard it, you know it already.
- Did he really have a woman?
- Really.
- The barkeeper's wife?
- Yes.
Is she attractive, pretty?
Like most of them. She looks Tartar.
How did poor Rókus
become infatuated with her?
He didn't need encouragement.
She supported and financed her,
and how Szüle used to say
"the rules of love are not universal".
And you? Did you chat regularly?
Rókus invited me for supper once.
Did you like her?
Absolutely not!
She was a hairy-mouthed, skinny nag.
- But you noticed her.
- I had to.
It looked like she was eating a wooly bear
and it got stuck under her nose.
Much better.
My dear man.
Do you have a letter for me?
Are you going to town?
We hold the first Lake Conference tonight.
I'll bring some tomatoes.
Please take care of the children
while we're away, Szüle.
They'll play with their toys.
- Be kind to each other.
- All right.
- Come here, the bread is ready!
- I'd like to have some new bread.
We've run out of new bread. Go and play.
Don't go to the lake. You may get muddy.
New stuff in my belly,
shivers down my spine.
New stuff in my belly,
shivers down my spine.
Oh, silly.
The saying doesn't work with old bread.
Give me some new bread!
- Not likely.
- A single bite, please, Márika!
No. Szüle gave it to me. Ask her.
I took your bread, I took your bread!
Thief! Give me back my bread!
I took your bread!
Péterke!
I have good news, Szülike.
We established the
flood prevention company.
We can finally put an end
to the lake's existence.
Who's your master, Arthur?
Róza! Róza!
Little Pete!
Oh no.
I'm not responsible.
He stole my bread.
He would have
grown up to be a respectable man...
He was the weakest
yet he owns the bread now.
Look, how he grips it even in death!
Take him away!
Take him away!
What a talented little boy we have,
don't you think Doctor?
Take it, please. Now.
I feel dizzy again.
Look! He has a birthmark.
Looks like a piece of bread.
Bread?
I think it looks more like a strawberry.
Bread.
It forms the same shape,
as if he had gazed at that
little piece of bread in Péterke's palm.
What did I bring, hmm?
A letter! Here.
Jewish paper.
Authentic document from Jerusalem.
From Turkey or China.
Or something like that according to the
Miss at the post office.
Dear parents,
It's Rókus.
I hope that you will be in good health
when you get my letter,
furthermore I'd like to inform you that
being imprisoned is woeful.
I'm down on my luck
and the bread is very expensive.
What's the news?
Where did you get that letter from?
Nothing. Just a catalogue.
You're a good man, Ferenc.
You're a self-made man.
I have to get going.
I'm glad that you have such a strong boy.
It must be a great pleasure.
- God bless you, Ferenc.
- God bless you, Doctor.
Doctor, you know the law inside out,
don't you?
Only what I have to.
The means to avoid confinement.
Why?
Just in case.
Let us assume that
a prisoner of war was
declared legally dead,
his wife remarried,
then out of the blue the POW turns up...
What will happen next, Doctor?
He should be delighted
because he not only escaped captivity,
but his wife, too.
I think in this case
the first marriage is the valid one
and the second gets revoked.
Is everything all right at home, Ferenc?
I'll get a priest.
I think we're going to lose your mother.
She's barely alive.
She couldn't stand cats, however,
she's indifferent to them now.
God's hand should be upon
the purified soul.
Don't leave, Reverend.
You need a notary, not a priest, Szüle.
Don't yearn for that.
Look, Our Lord, Jesus Christ
gave us two testaments,
yet people don't abide by either.
I want to make a testament
which requires a priest.
Tell me, Szüle.
I'd like to ask for a memorial service
each year, on St. Rosalia's day
for my Rókus' salvation.
All right.
With singing!
The cantor must sing, too.
The cantor will sing.
God bless you for that.
Mátyás will bear the cost.
The song
should contain this:
"He lies in his cold grave
- in Biács-Bosznia."
- What?
Rókus.
My Rókus.
My son.
But Róza, the Bosnian war
ended a long time ago.
Rókus' grave is in Siberia, not Bosnia.
I heard it once when I was a young girl...
they held a memorial service
in honour of a lad.
It was heartbreaking.
The cantor was singing
that "in Biács-Bosnia
he lies in his cold grave."
Sing this.
For my Rókus.
Do it for me, please.
There's a burial mount in Biács-Bosnia
There lies my dear mate
The poor soul's
right arm was amputated
with which he held his babe all the time.
These postmarks are indecipherable.
Of course.
Soldiers were trained
to leave out their addresses
on their letters during wartime.
It won't be easy
but we can initiate an investigation
via the Foreign Office.
I don't care about the cost, Doctor.
I wouldn't mind if my house
was encumbered by a mortgage
for the resurrection of Rókus.
But the dead don't wake up.
The correspondent in question
is an impostor, no doubt,
he wants to swindle me out of my money.
Possible.
Possible, but the crook
would certainly indicate the place
where the millions should be sent.
Are you sure Ferenc that this
was not written by Etel's first husband?
I'm sure as hell.
I buried him with these hands
in the mossy ground.
I folded his arms across his chest.
It was cold as ice.
He couldn't have written this.
He had already been perished with cold
before I tried to rouse him.
That could have been the weather.
If I were not certain,
he wouldn't appear in my dreams so often.
He wouldn't appear
whenever I looked at a bread.
You're not sinful, Ferenc.
It would be great if you told Etel everything.
She'd better hear it from you first
than someone else.
She would be perturbed.
But your eyes are open, Lord,
please guard me through the night.
Amen.
Cross yourselves.
My dear man!
Where did you get this?
Do you believe
that the dead can be resurrected?
Listen here.
I've already told the doctor
- I haven't done anything
that shouldn't be told -
It happened on the riverbank
of the Murman, when we escaped.
I became very weak.
Rókus was stronger than me.
He picked me up:
he carried me on his back or in his arms.
My dear man.
We found a farmstead.
Lumberjacks lived there.
They gave us a shoddy sack,
they put two breads into the sack,
"It will be enough for four days" they said.
"If we go straight ahead
(to the East) we'll reach the village."
I carried the sack.
Rókus was helpless,
thus we progressed slowly.
Four days turned into six days.
The forest seemed to be infinite.
No matter how I divided our rations,
we ran out of bread.
I was thinking about the Redeemer
and always tore larger pieces for Rókus.
On the last day,
I gave him the remaining crumbs.
I chewed wild berries instead.
That night he asked for bread
'cause he was starving.
I told him I was famished too.
I hadn't eaten all day;
he should have waited patiently
till the morning.
He said
he would probably die before dawn.
He insisted:
he wanted to have one fine last meal.
What shall I do then?
Why would I want to kick the bucket
if I got that far?
Then suddenly
That's what I did.
"What I did".
It was you... you did it!
Me.
You...
Etel!
Etel!
I hear a voice from a great distance.
The Blessed Virgin
has an important task for you,
my daughter.
She became unhinged
only God knows what happened to her.
She locked the door of the sitting room.
She didn't say a word,
she bowed down before the portrait of Mary.
There's a fraud in the neighbourhood,
a sorceress.
She says that Etel conveys
Mary's words and orders.
She attracts admirers,
swarms of old women.
Poor soul.
She's a victim, too.
She will settle down eventually.
Don't blame her.
That impostor confused her
by claiming to be her first husband.
I told her everything. That was pointless.
Don't you think that she became upset
not because he was found to be alive
but rather because of the way he died?
Is that what you think?
Do you think that I'm a murderer?
Rókus died because he was sick.
You had done what others would have done.
Don't worry Ferenc.
You will be pure when you stand before God.
Why does Rókus
materialize in my presence
given that I'm not guilty?
I've seen thousands of dead soldiers,
I stabbed many to death with my bayonet.
Why don't I dream of them at all?
Why does he enter my mind
when I see a bread?
And why can't I look at
my innocent son's body
and the birthmark?
And what about Péterke's hand
clutching at the last morsel
which he snatched from Rókus' daughter?
What is this, if it's not God's punishment?
Calm down, Ferenc. Calm down.
When I throw a fit,
I keep saying to myself "It's not true"
to no avail.
Something inside me says "murderer".
"Murderer".
Even so, I'm not a killer.
You're hallucinating, Ferenc.
This is a recurring dream
caused by the war.
We need sanity, knowledge.
Be sensible for a moment.
This is a punishment.
God's punishment.
God's punishment.
Woe betide those
who are found to be wicked!
Evil diseases will arise, hideous ulcers.
They will swear at the Lamb in pain,
who has great control over the calamities.
Show your penance, people!
Show penance. Penance.
All wells throughout the fields will run dry.
The herd becomes derelict
and red flames rage through the forest.
Rivers turn red.
Red as the blood of the dead.
Have mercy on us! Have pity on us!
Show us signs so that we can hear you,
see you!
Give heed to the holy woman!
She can see the Blessed Virgin in the well.
Mary, Mary
we fall on our knees before you
with clasped hands
tears in our eyes.
Bitter agony
torments us.
We ask you with pain in our hearts
to consider our words.
Ferenc!
I bring good news. They've found Rókus.
He lives near Minsk in a croft.
That is not true. It is a lie.
This is his letter. He sent a photograph, too.
So...
I'm not a murderer!
Look, doctor...
Don't "look" anywhere! Come with me
and let's bring the good news
to those who really need it.
Woe betide the depraved wardens
and foul pedlars,
Virgin Mary has already trampled
the dreadful snake's head.
The Deluge is here!
Even the archangels tremble in fear
from her wrath.
A week from today Virgin Mary
will give an important message.
All pious men and women,
gather here at three o'clock!
Hand me what you had brought
to the holy woman.
Let's get started.
Do you want to talk to the holy woman?
Yes. Buzz off!
You can talk to her... She won't obey
anyone else but me, anyway.
Etel!
Etel, do you recognize me?
Etel! I've brought you good news.
Rókus is alive. He's alive!
Ferenc is not a murderer.
Etel! Etel, my dear.
Rókus is alive. I'm not a killer.
Here. Take a look at this.
He's alive.
He goes home, you'll get divorced
and you'll be my wife.
Can't you hear me?
Don't you know who I am?
I'm Ferenc.
Etel.
Haven't I told you
that she takes orders only from me?
Do you know anything about her at all?
Good water. Contains frogs. But not Mary.
Be patient. Time is the healer.
Let's get going.
Others want to hear these good news too.
I can't put my finger on it.
Take a good look at him again.
It's him. Say it already, don't be shy!
Rókus?! My Rókus?
This bride though...
Rókus didn't have a Russian wife.
He not only had one, but he has one.
There's Rókus and his woman.
- Alive? My son?
- He's alive.
He was found by lumberjacks.
They brought him back to life.
He had a Tartar hostess,
he went back to her.
He wanted to come home 'cause
it seems like he got fed up with the wife
but the wife still clings to him
and she says that as long as Rókus
doesn't pay his dues
she won't finance his travelling expenses.
According to the letter
we should sell the domain because
that's his property anyway.
I will acquire that sum
even at the expense of my acres.
Selling the homestead?
The fields which were united?
Aren't you worried about my grandchildren?
Take good care of the letter.
If the address gets lost,
we won't find Rókus easily again.
Etel, my daughter.
Can you hear me now? Etel!
Forgive me, mother.
I don't know what has been
happening with me lately.
I tend to forget everything.
I don't even know who I am
- or where I am any more.
- Dear Etel...
you're in the sitting room.
See? Here's your chiffonier and mirror
your wedding bouquet is here too,
under the bed, under the blanket.
Do you remember?
I do.
The only thing I don't know is...
Who was my groom?
Don't worry about that, daughter.
The earthly groom is fleeting
like a forget-me-not.
Have you found out yet
where we are going?
No, mother.
Into God's garden, daughter.
Do you know who's waiting for you there?
Your heavenly groom, daughter.
Let's put on your wedding wreath,
daughter.
War took its toll, Mátyás.
That's true.
We suffered the most, I guess.
It's over.
The plough turns everything
under the surface of the soil.
That's right.
You know, I feel sorry for young people.
They should've lived longer.
That's why God created them.
Reverend, can we ask a requiem
for those who are alive?
No, that's not possible.
We can hold and offer a Holy Mass
for the living
at their request according to God.
Yes. That's what I thought.
I ought to note this down in my calendar.
Reverend!
Could you show me Tatarstan on the map?
Absolutely. For sure.
But why did you ask?
Well, I was thinking all night long
and it struck me.
Come in. You're welcome.
Not a big country.
Does it have bountiful fields?
There?
You wouldn't want to be a ranger there.
- Why not?
- Because
rangers have to use ladders there.
Otherwise they would be
buried in the wheat.
You don't have to worry about a
nation that has such rich soil.
We will plough tomorrow.
We plough... and we sow.
Translated by OFMS.
We plough and sow.
Because the plough
is stronger than the sword
and life is stronger than death.
Let the song of the wheat field
praise the people who can
withstand the trials like the land.
And whatever anguish
may afflict their lives,
if the land remains, they'll plough and sow.
presents
Song of the Corn Field
Adapted and directed by István Szőts
based on a novel by Ferenc Móra
Art advisor
Music
Cinematographer
Assistant director
Sound editor
Set designer
Production manager
Starring
Music played by
Studio
In great misery
our country calls:
Don't forget
our dear country,
Hungary,
and the poor Hungarians.
Let's pray for our brothers who are far away
so that they may come home
as soon as possible
in order to sow and beget children
for the benefit of the homeland.
Our Father, which art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come; thy will be done,
in earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive them that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil. Amen.
Mother, when will father arrive?
Rókus! Rókus!
- Who's that?
- It's me.
The notary sent me.
- Who's that?
- It's Gyurka Messzi, the ranger.
We found him! Rókus.
Rókus.
Rókus.
Found.
Or rather, not found but lost.
He's missing in action.
The army's announcement was this.
MIA.
Missing.
The State removed a strong man
from his family
and when the State should return him
it says that he has gone missing.
Like a mangy little kitten, or a chick.
Where did they send him?
Why wasn't he taken care of?
Are you kidding me?
The reverend's sermon applies to you, too.
"You're like Potiphar's wife, the impertinent,
and the dishonourable
daughters of Jezebel."
I needed a translator.
Someone with whom I could
compose a letter to Ferenc.
Why do you hurt him? He's a good man.
He kept his farm well-maintained.
He likes children, takes care of everything.
Takes good care of her, too!
I have to join the army
I have to leave my babe behind
Give me a break, damned judge,
you will rue the day!
The war is over!
The Hungarian freedom is here at last.
The war is over!
The prisoners can go home,
our boys can come back home.
That's it. Freedom! Arise, Hungarians, now!
What will you do if Ferenc returns, Piros?
What happened to her?
She was singing yesterday.
I told her she'll calm down
when Ferenc returns.
That was the problem.
She was informed yesterday
about Ferenc's arrival.
Piros was frightened.
She wanted to hasten the process,
to get it over with as soon as possible.
War causes much trouble, no doubt.
I wish those were the only casualties
who had perished on the battlefield.
The war has not ended yet.
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
I'll leave him alone.
He is loud enough to wake the dead.
So what will happen to the child?
I told you: we adopt him
until his father arrives.
Whence?
Siberia.
Through China and America.
I don't want it.
I ate one too many mouldy breads.
Bread made from tree roots.
I don't like it any more.
Bojszi. My little Bojszi.
And this is... the little bunny!
I don't need no bunny, I need the bear!
You want the bear? All right.
A little bit more...
Greetings.
- Greetings.
- Oh!
Look who's here! Ferenc!
Péterke.
Look at what daddy has brought you.
I'd like to have a good bath.
I came straight from the internment camp.
Oh my God!
Oh yes.
He's been here ever since.
Poor soul.
I've heard about that case.
How are you?
I lead an austere life.
I feel piercing pain near my liver.
I caught a cold in Murman.
- I've been coughing since then.
- We cough until we die.
- How did you say that? Where?
- In Murman.
Our Rókus vanished there, too.
Well, not exactly there.
- Not there? Have you seen him?
- Of course I have.
We escaped together, that's why.
I got away alone though.
It was me who closed his eyelids.
Did you bury him?
The ground was ice cold.
I buried him in moss and leaves.
He didn't have anything else
besides this small piece of paper.
If people were not able to sigh,
they would...
...choke to death.
Ferenc is quite a lucky man.
Our land is full of groundwater
but his field is perfect.
Let me tell you:
these lands will be united one day.
I can cook basically anything I want,
whether it's paprika potatoes, potato soup
egg barley
or sour potatoes.
You deserve a woman,
not only this huge pile of potatoes.
Enough is enough.
What about the child?
Listen here Etel,
this will suit the son of Ferenc.
But dear Szüle,
how he would be sneering at you!
- It belongs in the hearth.
- This?
He could make use of it on a stubble field,
after harvest.
Not in the near future, for sure, Szüle.
Old women are prudent.
- Good evening.
- Good evening.
I came for Péterke.
I could hardly recognize you, Etel.
You resemble Russian women.
- You've got to be kidding.
- I'm not.
There are these blonde, pale-skinned types.
You will visit us more often, then,
if you want to see a "Russian" woman.
I know you got used to Russian women.
I've had enough of them.
Don't disturb Etel and Ferenc!
They should be there, together.
Some say it is diluted with water.
Nowadays, cowsheds are lit electrically
in America.
It seems like you've grown to love America.
I loved it for a while,
but I got homesick after all.
Your home country is where your family is.
Yes. But not only that.
The soil is different. So is the wheat.
And... everything.
How long have you been living
with your mother-in-law like this, Etel?
Only around this time of the year.
During winter.
We can share the lighting this way.
We doubled up.
I'll go back when springtime comes.
I must see that once.
I have to go now.
They are having a ball.
I will draw the curtains next time.
I must knead the dough today.
Good night, Etel.
Be careful: don't let the
pasta reek of tobacco!
Have you seen something, Etel?
I'm only searching for the jug.
My mouth is dry.
It's awfully hot because of this furnace.
What do you think?
Will they be the subject of a sermon?
Of course.
I'm familiar with womankind well enough.
Wild fowl grow tame when they get hungry.
You have to proceed gingerly
with Ferenc though,
because we don't know his inner self.
The lands will be united no matter what.
What are you doing?
Special bread. It attracts menfolk.
Mátyás got one too when he was small.
You surely didn't eat
anything like this in Russia.
That's true.
What kind of bread do the Russians eat?
Did you have military flour?
Do they like it with corn?
It depends on...
Ferenc, you're not a bread enthusiast,
are you?
I'm not.
My poor Rókus loved it.
He was dying for bread.
I became a prisoner of war near Königgrätz.
They made me plough a large territory
and sow millet.
To this very day I still prefer
sausage
to mush-filled millet pudding.
Wine, wheat, peace, and a pretty woman!
Here's to health and strength.
I'm not too fond of poppy seed strudels.
Since
famine was so severe in Königgrätz that
crescent rolls were dusted with gunpowder
instead of poppy seeds.
Why did you step on my foot?
I thought you were going to say
something else, brother-in-law.
When the Holy God
in Heaven
conceived the Holy Trinity...
When God
conceived the Holy Trinity... in Heaven...
Enough said, Uncle Gyuri.
You should rather drink.
No. I cannot.
Drinking is allowed.
I was hired to...
What the dickens?
So that I can tell this decent iron pot that...
And to you too.
Why are you whining?
When the Holy God...
Golden lamb, golden ram,
they will clash soon.
Am I right, 'in-law Mátyás?
Don't you think so?
- The rain has stopped. I can leave now.
- Don't go!
What shall I do with this old, dirty swine?
I'll show you what you ought to do.
- Get away!
- Oh, you bastard.
These rambling soldiers are boozing all day
instead of searching for Serbian troops
at the demarcation line.
They steal chickens at night,
and molest women.
Did you hear it? What was that?
I'm sure those hungry fugitive soldiers
came here to steal chicken.
They're probably in the vicinity,
near Etel's farm.
Good thing she didn't take the child home.
Blimey.
Will you open it, woman?
The sergeant is so tired
that he'd rather sleep. Haha!
Call Ferenc! He has a rifle. Fast!
The soldiers will burst the door upon Etel
any time now.
So what? It's hard as a stone rood.
She can withstand what others can.
She won't be riding the high horse at least.
Forget horses, she's your daughter-in-law!
All right, all right. I'm so afraid, though.
Go!
How could I leave the farm behind?
We have horses,
the cows are in the shed,
and I can't leave you here anyway.
Can we go in, or will you come out?
Don't peep at me!
I don't even have my clothes on.
We like it that way. Ha ha ha.
Huh? Can't you hear me?
Their manners are inappropriate.
Whenever I visit them they're always
slobbering over each other.
This is unacceptable!
I feel shame when I look at them.
Don't watch them then.
This is a disease from which
everyone will eventually recover from.
We know that well.
Night-night.
You can be honest with me.
I've already heard that story.
- Which story?
- Rókus' story.
You heard it, you know it already.
- Did he really have a woman?
- Really.
- The barkeeper's wife?
- Yes.
Is she attractive, pretty?
Like most of them. She looks Tartar.
How did poor Rókus
become infatuated with her?
He didn't need encouragement.
She supported and financed her,
and how Szüle used to say
"the rules of love are not universal".
And you? Did you chat regularly?
Rókus invited me for supper once.
Did you like her?
Absolutely not!
She was a hairy-mouthed, skinny nag.
- But you noticed her.
- I had to.
It looked like she was eating a wooly bear
and it got stuck under her nose.
Much better.
My dear man.
Do you have a letter for me?
Are you going to town?
We hold the first Lake Conference tonight.
I'll bring some tomatoes.
Please take care of the children
while we're away, Szüle.
They'll play with their toys.
- Be kind to each other.
- All right.
- Come here, the bread is ready!
- I'd like to have some new bread.
We've run out of new bread. Go and play.
Don't go to the lake. You may get muddy.
New stuff in my belly,
shivers down my spine.
New stuff in my belly,
shivers down my spine.
Oh, silly.
The saying doesn't work with old bread.
Give me some new bread!
- Not likely.
- A single bite, please, Márika!
No. Szüle gave it to me. Ask her.
I took your bread, I took your bread!
Thief! Give me back my bread!
I took your bread!
Péterke!
I have good news, Szülike.
We established the
flood prevention company.
We can finally put an end
to the lake's existence.
Who's your master, Arthur?
Róza! Róza!
Little Pete!
Oh no.
I'm not responsible.
He stole my bread.
He would have
grown up to be a respectable man...
He was the weakest
yet he owns the bread now.
Look, how he grips it even in death!
Take him away!
Take him away!
What a talented little boy we have,
don't you think Doctor?
Take it, please. Now.
I feel dizzy again.
Look! He has a birthmark.
Looks like a piece of bread.
Bread?
I think it looks more like a strawberry.
Bread.
It forms the same shape,
as if he had gazed at that
little piece of bread in Péterke's palm.
What did I bring, hmm?
A letter! Here.
Jewish paper.
Authentic document from Jerusalem.
From Turkey or China.
Or something like that according to the
Miss at the post office.
Dear parents,
It's Rókus.
I hope that you will be in good health
when you get my letter,
furthermore I'd like to inform you that
being imprisoned is woeful.
I'm down on my luck
and the bread is very expensive.
What's the news?
Where did you get that letter from?
Nothing. Just a catalogue.
You're a good man, Ferenc.
You're a self-made man.
I have to get going.
I'm glad that you have such a strong boy.
It must be a great pleasure.
- God bless you, Ferenc.
- God bless you, Doctor.
Doctor, you know the law inside out,
don't you?
Only what I have to.
The means to avoid confinement.
Why?
Just in case.
Let us assume that
a prisoner of war was
declared legally dead,
his wife remarried,
then out of the blue the POW turns up...
What will happen next, Doctor?
He should be delighted
because he not only escaped captivity,
but his wife, too.
I think in this case
the first marriage is the valid one
and the second gets revoked.
Is everything all right at home, Ferenc?
I'll get a priest.
I think we're going to lose your mother.
She's barely alive.
She couldn't stand cats, however,
she's indifferent to them now.
God's hand should be upon
the purified soul.
Don't leave, Reverend.
You need a notary, not a priest, Szüle.
Don't yearn for that.
Look, Our Lord, Jesus Christ
gave us two testaments,
yet people don't abide by either.
I want to make a testament
which requires a priest.
Tell me, Szüle.
I'd like to ask for a memorial service
each year, on St. Rosalia's day
for my Rókus' salvation.
All right.
With singing!
The cantor must sing, too.
The cantor will sing.
God bless you for that.
Mátyás will bear the cost.
The song
should contain this:
"He lies in his cold grave
- in Biács-Bosznia."
- What?
Rókus.
My Rókus.
My son.
But Róza, the Bosnian war
ended a long time ago.
Rókus' grave is in Siberia, not Bosnia.
I heard it once when I was a young girl...
they held a memorial service
in honour of a lad.
It was heartbreaking.
The cantor was singing
that "in Biács-Bosnia
he lies in his cold grave."
Sing this.
For my Rókus.
Do it for me, please.
There's a burial mount in Biács-Bosnia
There lies my dear mate
The poor soul's
right arm was amputated
with which he held his babe all the time.
These postmarks are indecipherable.
Of course.
Soldiers were trained
to leave out their addresses
on their letters during wartime.
It won't be easy
but we can initiate an investigation
via the Foreign Office.
I don't care about the cost, Doctor.
I wouldn't mind if my house
was encumbered by a mortgage
for the resurrection of Rókus.
But the dead don't wake up.
The correspondent in question
is an impostor, no doubt,
he wants to swindle me out of my money.
Possible.
Possible, but the crook
would certainly indicate the place
where the millions should be sent.
Are you sure Ferenc that this
was not written by Etel's first husband?
I'm sure as hell.
I buried him with these hands
in the mossy ground.
I folded his arms across his chest.
It was cold as ice.
He couldn't have written this.
He had already been perished with cold
before I tried to rouse him.
That could have been the weather.
If I were not certain,
he wouldn't appear in my dreams so often.
He wouldn't appear
whenever I looked at a bread.
You're not sinful, Ferenc.
It would be great if you told Etel everything.
She'd better hear it from you first
than someone else.
She would be perturbed.
But your eyes are open, Lord,
please guard me through the night.
Amen.
Cross yourselves.
My dear man!
Where did you get this?
Do you believe
that the dead can be resurrected?
Listen here.
I've already told the doctor
- I haven't done anything
that shouldn't be told -
It happened on the riverbank
of the Murman, when we escaped.
I became very weak.
Rókus was stronger than me.
He picked me up:
he carried me on his back or in his arms.
My dear man.
We found a farmstead.
Lumberjacks lived there.
They gave us a shoddy sack,
they put two breads into the sack,
"It will be enough for four days" they said.
"If we go straight ahead
(to the East) we'll reach the village."
I carried the sack.
Rókus was helpless,
thus we progressed slowly.
Four days turned into six days.
The forest seemed to be infinite.
No matter how I divided our rations,
we ran out of bread.
I was thinking about the Redeemer
and always tore larger pieces for Rókus.
On the last day,
I gave him the remaining crumbs.
I chewed wild berries instead.
That night he asked for bread
'cause he was starving.
I told him I was famished too.
I hadn't eaten all day;
he should have waited patiently
till the morning.
He said
he would probably die before dawn.
He insisted:
he wanted to have one fine last meal.
What shall I do then?
Why would I want to kick the bucket
if I got that far?
Then suddenly
That's what I did.
"What I did".
It was you... you did it!
Me.
You...
Etel!
Etel!
I hear a voice from a great distance.
The Blessed Virgin
has an important task for you,
my daughter.
She became unhinged
only God knows what happened to her.
She locked the door of the sitting room.
She didn't say a word,
she bowed down before the portrait of Mary.
There's a fraud in the neighbourhood,
a sorceress.
She says that Etel conveys
Mary's words and orders.
She attracts admirers,
swarms of old women.
Poor soul.
She's a victim, too.
She will settle down eventually.
Don't blame her.
That impostor confused her
by claiming to be her first husband.
I told her everything. That was pointless.
Don't you think that she became upset
not because he was found to be alive
but rather because of the way he died?
Is that what you think?
Do you think that I'm a murderer?
Rókus died because he was sick.
You had done what others would have done.
Don't worry Ferenc.
You will be pure when you stand before God.
Why does Rókus
materialize in my presence
given that I'm not guilty?
I've seen thousands of dead soldiers,
I stabbed many to death with my bayonet.
Why don't I dream of them at all?
Why does he enter my mind
when I see a bread?
And why can't I look at
my innocent son's body
and the birthmark?
And what about Péterke's hand
clutching at the last morsel
which he snatched from Rókus' daughter?
What is this, if it's not God's punishment?
Calm down, Ferenc. Calm down.
When I throw a fit,
I keep saying to myself "It's not true"
to no avail.
Something inside me says "murderer".
"Murderer".
Even so, I'm not a killer.
You're hallucinating, Ferenc.
This is a recurring dream
caused by the war.
We need sanity, knowledge.
Be sensible for a moment.
This is a punishment.
God's punishment.
God's punishment.
Woe betide those
who are found to be wicked!
Evil diseases will arise, hideous ulcers.
They will swear at the Lamb in pain,
who has great control over the calamities.
Show your penance, people!
Show penance. Penance.
All wells throughout the fields will run dry.
The herd becomes derelict
and red flames rage through the forest.
Rivers turn red.
Red as the blood of the dead.
Have mercy on us! Have pity on us!
Show us signs so that we can hear you,
see you!
Give heed to the holy woman!
She can see the Blessed Virgin in the well.
Mary, Mary
we fall on our knees before you
with clasped hands
tears in our eyes.
Bitter agony
torments us.
We ask you with pain in our hearts
to consider our words.
Ferenc!
I bring good news. They've found Rókus.
He lives near Minsk in a croft.
That is not true. It is a lie.
This is his letter. He sent a photograph, too.
So...
I'm not a murderer!
Look, doctor...
Don't "look" anywhere! Come with me
and let's bring the good news
to those who really need it.
Woe betide the depraved wardens
and foul pedlars,
Virgin Mary has already trampled
the dreadful snake's head.
The Deluge is here!
Even the archangels tremble in fear
from her wrath.
A week from today Virgin Mary
will give an important message.
All pious men and women,
gather here at three o'clock!
Hand me what you had brought
to the holy woman.
Let's get started.
Do you want to talk to the holy woman?
Yes. Buzz off!
You can talk to her... She won't obey
anyone else but me, anyway.
Etel!
Etel, do you recognize me?
Etel! I've brought you good news.
Rókus is alive. He's alive!
Ferenc is not a murderer.
Etel! Etel, my dear.
Rókus is alive. I'm not a killer.
Here. Take a look at this.
He's alive.
He goes home, you'll get divorced
and you'll be my wife.
Can't you hear me?
Don't you know who I am?
I'm Ferenc.
Etel.
Haven't I told you
that she takes orders only from me?
Do you know anything about her at all?
Good water. Contains frogs. But not Mary.
Be patient. Time is the healer.
Let's get going.
Others want to hear these good news too.
I can't put my finger on it.
Take a good look at him again.
It's him. Say it already, don't be shy!
Rókus?! My Rókus?
This bride though...
Rókus didn't have a Russian wife.
He not only had one, but he has one.
There's Rókus and his woman.
- Alive? My son?
- He's alive.
He was found by lumberjacks.
They brought him back to life.
He had a Tartar hostess,
he went back to her.
He wanted to come home 'cause
it seems like he got fed up with the wife
but the wife still clings to him
and she says that as long as Rókus
doesn't pay his dues
she won't finance his travelling expenses.
According to the letter
we should sell the domain because
that's his property anyway.
I will acquire that sum
even at the expense of my acres.
Selling the homestead?
The fields which were united?
Aren't you worried about my grandchildren?
Take good care of the letter.
If the address gets lost,
we won't find Rókus easily again.
Etel, my daughter.
Can you hear me now? Etel!
Forgive me, mother.
I don't know what has been
happening with me lately.
I tend to forget everything.
I don't even know who I am
- or where I am any more.
- Dear Etel...
you're in the sitting room.
See? Here's your chiffonier and mirror
your wedding bouquet is here too,
under the bed, under the blanket.
Do you remember?
I do.
The only thing I don't know is...
Who was my groom?
Don't worry about that, daughter.
The earthly groom is fleeting
like a forget-me-not.
Have you found out yet
where we are going?
No, mother.
Into God's garden, daughter.
Do you know who's waiting for you there?
Your heavenly groom, daughter.
Let's put on your wedding wreath,
daughter.
War took its toll, Mátyás.
That's true.
We suffered the most, I guess.
It's over.
The plough turns everything
under the surface of the soil.
That's right.
You know, I feel sorry for young people.
They should've lived longer.
That's why God created them.
Reverend, can we ask a requiem
for those who are alive?
No, that's not possible.
We can hold and offer a Holy Mass
for the living
at their request according to God.
Yes. That's what I thought.
I ought to note this down in my calendar.
Reverend!
Could you show me Tatarstan on the map?
Absolutely. For sure.
But why did you ask?
Well, I was thinking all night long
and it struck me.
Come in. You're welcome.
Not a big country.
Does it have bountiful fields?
There?
You wouldn't want to be a ranger there.
- Why not?
- Because
rangers have to use ladders there.
Otherwise they would be
buried in the wheat.
You don't have to worry about a
nation that has such rich soil.
We will plough tomorrow.
We plough... and we sow.
Translated by OFMS.
We plough and sow.
Because the plough
is stronger than the sword
and life is stronger than death.
Let the song of the wheat field
praise the people who can
withstand the trials like the land.
And whatever anguish
may afflict their lives,
if the land remains, they'll plough and sow.