A Young Doctor's Notebook & Other Stories (2012–2013): Season 2, Episode 4 - Episode #2.4 - full transcript
The Young Doctor reads a rather bland and callous eulogy over Pelegaya's body, before reciting a poem which he hopes will impress Natasha. He also admits to her that he lied about her lover being dead but she and the rest of the White Guard are forced to flee when the Bolsheviks return to the hospital and they escape on a medical supplies train. However the train is derailed following an explosion and the carriage in which Natasha is travelling catches fire. The Young Doctor goes to save her but is distracted when he discovers several bottles of morphine which have been flung from the train. In the event he chooses the morphine over attempting to save Natasha, another selfish act of which his older self is reproachful.
Right now all you can
think about is morphine.
- Do you have any?
- No.
Natasha.
Do you think it is too soon for me
to declare my feelings for her?
Grigory, remember?
General Big Hands.
I'm afraid there's been a massacre.
My darling Grigory.
They were shot in the
back as they ran away.
You would tell a lie to get
your hands on anything.
Doctor, I'm ill.
Typhus.
- Typhus?
- Typhus?
Pray, for a quick and painless death.
Well, friend, this is me.
Sorry again about all the...
sobbing...
But...
I do hope you have found our time together,
to be as...
rewarding and as agreeable as I have.
And you were right, about the opera.
It's only good for toilet paper.
For God's sake.
Just like a sister to me.
More like a daughter.
Doctor, would you like to
pay tribute to Pelageya,
if you feel strong enough.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
We're here to honor the untimely death of
not just a respected colleague,
but a respected friend.
It is incomprehensible even to me, a doctor,
that Pelageya, built as she was, like an ox
could be felled by something
so small as a typhoid louse.
But if there is a crumb of solace
to be taken from this tragedy,
it is the knowledge that
there is nothing any of us,
any of us, could have done.
So let us remember fondly
Pelageya for who she was.
Her...
smell...
Her fragrant smell...
and she was always,
always attentive to the needs of others.
She deserves better than that.
I could recite a poem.
I've recently refamiliarized myself...
Not Blok.
Pelageya hated Blok.
No, she didn't, she didn't
even know who he was... or is.
Is he dead too?
The miserable creature
With the face of ash
Staggering, she echoes the lament
- Doctor.
- In holes now darkened
The infection spread to every word
And I stood at the door
of the beautiful woman
Crying.
- No, we've got to...
- No, back. Go back.
Go back.
From across the gallery he aspied me
Doctor, swing around.
Then covered his face
And frowning departed with
the lackeys and the vassals
Hold on, doctor.
Back off.
She weighs more than the bath.
I am afraid the ground's frozen solid.
We couldn't dig a pit.
We'll have to burn her like the Norse.
As in early Scandinavia,
not a horse, the animal.
Well, can't we just burn her here then?
It is desperately cold and
we are very low on firewood.
Have you no respect?
She saw you at your worse,
and still she loved you.
She was the only one.
No, I am sorry, let's do this properly.
We'll need a lot of kindling.
Over my dead body!
Yes, that one is good,
as in good for firewood.
I'm sorry, I'm gonna have to put her down.
You are not fit to carry her.
I tried.
I tried everything, to like you,
to love you, even to look at you.
But I'm finished, you can go rot in hell.
Forward, forward.
So, what did you think?
I thought it went well.
Yes, yes, you spoke,
they were beautiful words.
They were not mine actually, but
those of our dear friend Blok.
He's still alive, isn't he?
Yes, yes. I thought you...
No, no, no, I do, I do, I just...
He... he writes so beautifully about death
that I... suppose I thought he must've
Died.
I know it sounds silly.
I'm sorry, I'm exhausted,
I feel like I've been
carrying a great burden.
You mean Pelageya.
Yes.
Grief is a great burden, but
one that we have to bear.
It does not become lighter,
we must become stronger.
What the hell was that?
Oh, it's probably Pelageya.
I thought it might be nice if she
had on her favorite perfume.
Plus it helped match the smell.
I best go and check.
Actually, doctor, I'm glad you're here.
Please, call me Mika.
Mika, forgive me if this is indelicate,
I would hate to intrude on your grief.
No, no, no intrusion.
I too have recently lost someone.
You know, perhaps we're not
so dissimilar after all.
Come, let's sit.
You understand me, Mika.
We speak the same language.
Languages.
Vos yeux brillez comme
un trousseau des clés perdues dans
la neige infinie de la Russie.
The time for your beautiful words is past.
Actually, doctor, I'm glad you're here.
Please, call me Mika.
I wanted to ask you about Anatoli.
Ah, right, yes.
- Who is Anatoli?
- He's my brother.
Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Yes, he... he's fine.
- You mean he's fully recovered?
- Fighting fit.
He's probably better now
than before he was shot.
Yes, they may be small hands,
but they make a big difference
in people's lives.
Thank you, doctor. So, you mean
he's fit enough to travel?
No, absolutely not, no,
that would be madness.
But you just said he was fighting fit.
Well yes, but that's a medical expression.
It means out of danger but
not well enough to travel.
You need to stay here.
You all need to stay here.
He needs bed rest in a hospital.
In this hospital.
Otherwise, there... there
could be a relapse.
- Of a gunshot wound?
- You know what I mean.
Good lord, how much perfume
did the Feldsher put on her?
Quickly. Quickly.
Bolsheviks, no more than
15 versts from here.
What are they doing?
Well, they want common ownership
of the land and industry
- and end to the class system.
- Not now.
- Demyan. - You have to leave,
it's too dangerous for you here.
Natasha, please, you can't leave.
It's too dangerous, as your doctor...
We better move out, to Gracevka.
For the sake of your poor brother,
Anatoli, we travel light this time.
I won't be safe until I reach Paris,
there's a supply train
headed north to Archangel.
Stay here, you can have Pelageya's papers,
she's dead.
Pretend to be a midwife,
or pretend to be my wife,
or be my wife.
Mika, I'm flattered,
but I only came here for my brother.
And to wait for the general,
and now he's dead.
Yes, but... well,
what if the general wasn't quite
as dead as we thought he was?
But you said he was killed in a massacre,
shot in the back as he ran away.
Oh, we don't know for sure that he wasn't.
But you said...
I didn't want to give you hope.
Is the man I love alive or dead?
If you mean the general
then I don't know for sure.
But there definitely was a massacre.
It feels so good to finally
tell you the truth.
Let's never have secrets again.
I used to be a morphine addict.
You told me my fiance was dead.
Why would you tell such a grotesque lie?
You're very beautiful.
Women, eh?
I'm no expert.
Well, it's nice to have the
hospital back to ourselves.
I'm not the kind of person
to sit in judgment.
But I did not care for those people.
Well, your friend was clean and tidy.
He was nice enough.
But it was just that girl
I didn't take to.
She was... what's the word,
Hateful.
But she's gone now, so I'll
say no more on the subject.
She looked at me like I
was dirt on her shoe.
But I'll say no more.
Matron.
I'm going to bed.
You're the miserable
creature with a face of ash.
And I shall shine in waiting of
the meeting between you and I...
Where's the doctor?
I am the doctor. Who are you?
Where are the medical supplies?
We don't have any.
You're lying! This is...
This is a hospital.
Well, I had to give it all to
the bastard soldiers, didn't I?
Not you lot, I mean, the other lot.
The other bastards.
You're not bastards, comrade.
You treated the White Guard.
No, no, but they made me do it.
They were brutal, I hated it.
No winter has ever snowed,
no crow has ever crowed,
nor wind blowed, more than this love.
- Yes, but...
- Darling Natasha.
Snow Queen of the White Guard.
It's comic verse.
Where have they gone?
Gracevka.
But I'm afraid they've got a
two day head start on you.
Yeah, alas comrade
this time tomorrow they'll
be on a train out of here.
What train?
I think it was a supply train?
Medical supplies?
Well, yes, I suppose so, comrade.
But they were going north
all the way to Archangel.
Isn't Gracevka south from here.
I mean the train must've
past within 60 vests.
- Have you got a map?
- No.
Have you got a fucking map?
But if you let me finish, comrade,
I think the Feldsher does.
- He's a big fan of maps.
- Thank you, comrade.
Come on.
But, it's a waste of time.
I mean, after Gracevka
there's not another station
for hundreds of versts.
You can't stop a train, can you?
Well, unless you...
Ah, yes, Feldsher, there you are.
I see the Bolsheviks gave
you a beating as well.
They... they wanted a map.
I said no.
Again and again I said no.
But they wouldn't stop.
You mustn't blame yourself.
I've to go.
They know about the train.
No, no one's to blame.
But I can't just stay here and do nothing.
Feldsher, you have to stay in the hospital.
This isn't a hospital.
We don't have a bandage
let alone medicines.
Yes, but it's too dangerous, isn't it.
Doctor, a friend of mine
is in mortal danger,
a very dear friend of mine.
He's the only man I've ever...
known to appreciate
nuances of a good atlas.
Or a perfectly delivered anecdote.
A man who appreciates a pickled sprat
and a walk in the glade.
Although, obviously not at the same time.
Come with me, doctor.
As I said, no one's to blame.
Come on doctor, only 40 versts to go.
40?!
We have to flag down the train
before it reaches the Bolsheviks.
Come on hero.
I do have a gun shot wound,
it really does hurt.
Well, perhaps you can find
something for it on the train.
After you rescue Natasha of course.
You know, Feldsher, it is late, isn't it?
I'm sure you're very tired.
So if you wanted to lie down
for a minute, I'd understand.
Demyan? Your name is Demyan?
Yeah, Demyan Lukich.
Demyan Lukich?
Well, well, well, isn't that funny.
I never would've have you down as a Demyan.
Well, I am a Demyan.
You don't mind if I still call
you the Feldsher, do you?
Shush.
I can hear the train.
It's coming, it's coming.
No, it's not, it's going.
It's going.
It's gone.
After you.
Feldsher.
Feldsher. Feldsher.
Dem... Feldsher.
Over here.
Natasha?
Yeah.
Natasha, you're hurt.
You came after me.
Yes, yes, I felt bad about
what happened. And...
Well, I... I just hope
we can still be friends.
Perhaps we can talk about this later?
I think my leg is broken.
Yes, of course.
It was more than a chandelier
that fell on me this time.
Yes, it was a crate.
A chance for you to saw off the fifth leg.
No, no, it's not that bad, yet.
I just need to find some...
Oh, God, I thought this
train had medical supplies.
Wait here.
Want to say I told you so, but...
No, wait, I do.
I didn't know these would be here.
But we live in hope.
Excuse me, I have a patient to see.
- Go on then, it's only a small fire.
- Small?
Doctor? Doctor? Help!
Come on, you're a big strong boy,
carry her out, you still got time.
Or would you rather I held you back,
told you it's too dangerous.
Mika, please.
Said there was nothing you could
do, even though there is.
Come on, this is it.
The chance to be a genuine hero.
Shut up.
Doctor,
help!
Just how much pain is she in, doctor?
Yes, that's it, run.
Faster!
Go on, don't forget to limp.
Other foot.
Come on.
Come on.
No, no.
No.
Look at it.
Look at the poor girl.
Look at what you've done.
You're an addict.
Look at it.
You did this.
All you are is morphine.
Yes! Yes!
You're right.
I'm an addict, I'm a hopeless addict.
There's nothing I can do.
None of this is my fault.
Yes, it is.
I can't be the man you want me to be.
I don't want love,
I don't want forgiveness,
I just want morphine.
Does it hurt?
A little.
This will help.
Comrade doctor,
it is nearly two years since
you were posted to Muryevo,
in the district of Corabovo.
In that time you've proved yourself
to be an extremely capable physician.
You've shouldered great responsibility
with the maturity that belies your age.
This is not to mention the
frequent acts of heroism
shown in aid of our glorious cause,
twice you were shot and badly wounded
trying to secure vital medicines to save
the lives of your fellow Bolsheviks.
What kind of a coat you call this?
And of course your academic
record speaks for itself,
fifteen fives is unprecedented.
Valiant comrade,
Moscow urgently needs doctors
of your undoubted caliber.
We would be honored if you
were to accept a position
at the Moscow Institute
of Venereal Diseases.
Doctor?
Sorry, I'm late.
think about is morphine.
- Do you have any?
- No.
Natasha.
Do you think it is too soon for me
to declare my feelings for her?
Grigory, remember?
General Big Hands.
I'm afraid there's been a massacre.
My darling Grigory.
They were shot in the
back as they ran away.
You would tell a lie to get
your hands on anything.
Doctor, I'm ill.
Typhus.
- Typhus?
- Typhus?
Pray, for a quick and painless death.
Well, friend, this is me.
Sorry again about all the...
sobbing...
But...
I do hope you have found our time together,
to be as...
rewarding and as agreeable as I have.
And you were right, about the opera.
It's only good for toilet paper.
For God's sake.
Just like a sister to me.
More like a daughter.
Doctor, would you like to
pay tribute to Pelageya,
if you feel strong enough.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
We're here to honor the untimely death of
not just a respected colleague,
but a respected friend.
It is incomprehensible even to me, a doctor,
that Pelageya, built as she was, like an ox
could be felled by something
so small as a typhoid louse.
But if there is a crumb of solace
to be taken from this tragedy,
it is the knowledge that
there is nothing any of us,
any of us, could have done.
So let us remember fondly
Pelageya for who she was.
Her...
smell...
Her fragrant smell...
and she was always,
always attentive to the needs of others.
She deserves better than that.
I could recite a poem.
I've recently refamiliarized myself...
Not Blok.
Pelageya hated Blok.
No, she didn't, she didn't
even know who he was... or is.
Is he dead too?
The miserable creature
With the face of ash
Staggering, she echoes the lament
- Doctor.
- In holes now darkened
The infection spread to every word
And I stood at the door
of the beautiful woman
Crying.
- No, we've got to...
- No, back. Go back.
Go back.
From across the gallery he aspied me
Doctor, swing around.
Then covered his face
And frowning departed with
the lackeys and the vassals
Hold on, doctor.
Back off.
She weighs more than the bath.
I am afraid the ground's frozen solid.
We couldn't dig a pit.
We'll have to burn her like the Norse.
As in early Scandinavia,
not a horse, the animal.
Well, can't we just burn her here then?
It is desperately cold and
we are very low on firewood.
Have you no respect?
She saw you at your worse,
and still she loved you.
She was the only one.
No, I am sorry, let's do this properly.
We'll need a lot of kindling.
Over my dead body!
Yes, that one is good,
as in good for firewood.
I'm sorry, I'm gonna have to put her down.
You are not fit to carry her.
I tried.
I tried everything, to like you,
to love you, even to look at you.
But I'm finished, you can go rot in hell.
Forward, forward.
So, what did you think?
I thought it went well.
Yes, yes, you spoke,
they were beautiful words.
They were not mine actually, but
those of our dear friend Blok.
He's still alive, isn't he?
Yes, yes. I thought you...
No, no, no, I do, I do, I just...
He... he writes so beautifully about death
that I... suppose I thought he must've
Died.
I know it sounds silly.
I'm sorry, I'm exhausted,
I feel like I've been
carrying a great burden.
You mean Pelageya.
Yes.
Grief is a great burden, but
one that we have to bear.
It does not become lighter,
we must become stronger.
What the hell was that?
Oh, it's probably Pelageya.
I thought it might be nice if she
had on her favorite perfume.
Plus it helped match the smell.
I best go and check.
Actually, doctor, I'm glad you're here.
Please, call me Mika.
Mika, forgive me if this is indelicate,
I would hate to intrude on your grief.
No, no, no intrusion.
I too have recently lost someone.
You know, perhaps we're not
so dissimilar after all.
Come, let's sit.
You understand me, Mika.
We speak the same language.
Languages.
Vos yeux brillez comme
un trousseau des clés perdues dans
la neige infinie de la Russie.
The time for your beautiful words is past.
Actually, doctor, I'm glad you're here.
Please, call me Mika.
I wanted to ask you about Anatoli.
Ah, right, yes.
- Who is Anatoli?
- He's my brother.
Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Yes, he... he's fine.
- You mean he's fully recovered?
- Fighting fit.
He's probably better now
than before he was shot.
Yes, they may be small hands,
but they make a big difference
in people's lives.
Thank you, doctor. So, you mean
he's fit enough to travel?
No, absolutely not, no,
that would be madness.
But you just said he was fighting fit.
Well yes, but that's a medical expression.
It means out of danger but
not well enough to travel.
You need to stay here.
You all need to stay here.
He needs bed rest in a hospital.
In this hospital.
Otherwise, there... there
could be a relapse.
- Of a gunshot wound?
- You know what I mean.
Good lord, how much perfume
did the Feldsher put on her?
Quickly. Quickly.
Bolsheviks, no more than
15 versts from here.
What are they doing?
Well, they want common ownership
of the land and industry
- and end to the class system.
- Not now.
- Demyan. - You have to leave,
it's too dangerous for you here.
Natasha, please, you can't leave.
It's too dangerous, as your doctor...
We better move out, to Gracevka.
For the sake of your poor brother,
Anatoli, we travel light this time.
I won't be safe until I reach Paris,
there's a supply train
headed north to Archangel.
Stay here, you can have Pelageya's papers,
she's dead.
Pretend to be a midwife,
or pretend to be my wife,
or be my wife.
Mika, I'm flattered,
but I only came here for my brother.
And to wait for the general,
and now he's dead.
Yes, but... well,
what if the general wasn't quite
as dead as we thought he was?
But you said he was killed in a massacre,
shot in the back as he ran away.
Oh, we don't know for sure that he wasn't.
But you said...
I didn't want to give you hope.
Is the man I love alive or dead?
If you mean the general
then I don't know for sure.
But there definitely was a massacre.
It feels so good to finally
tell you the truth.
Let's never have secrets again.
I used to be a morphine addict.
You told me my fiance was dead.
Why would you tell such a grotesque lie?
You're very beautiful.
Women, eh?
I'm no expert.
Well, it's nice to have the
hospital back to ourselves.
I'm not the kind of person
to sit in judgment.
But I did not care for those people.
Well, your friend was clean and tidy.
He was nice enough.
But it was just that girl
I didn't take to.
She was... what's the word,
Hateful.
But she's gone now, so I'll
say no more on the subject.
She looked at me like I
was dirt on her shoe.
But I'll say no more.
Matron.
I'm going to bed.
You're the miserable
creature with a face of ash.
And I shall shine in waiting of
the meeting between you and I...
Where's the doctor?
I am the doctor. Who are you?
Where are the medical supplies?
We don't have any.
You're lying! This is...
This is a hospital.
Well, I had to give it all to
the bastard soldiers, didn't I?
Not you lot, I mean, the other lot.
The other bastards.
You're not bastards, comrade.
You treated the White Guard.
No, no, but they made me do it.
They were brutal, I hated it.
No winter has ever snowed,
no crow has ever crowed,
nor wind blowed, more than this love.
- Yes, but...
- Darling Natasha.
Snow Queen of the White Guard.
It's comic verse.
Where have they gone?
Gracevka.
But I'm afraid they've got a
two day head start on you.
Yeah, alas comrade
this time tomorrow they'll
be on a train out of here.
What train?
I think it was a supply train?
Medical supplies?
Well, yes, I suppose so, comrade.
But they were going north
all the way to Archangel.
Isn't Gracevka south from here.
I mean the train must've
past within 60 vests.
- Have you got a map?
- No.
Have you got a fucking map?
But if you let me finish, comrade,
I think the Feldsher does.
- He's a big fan of maps.
- Thank you, comrade.
Come on.
But, it's a waste of time.
I mean, after Gracevka
there's not another station
for hundreds of versts.
You can't stop a train, can you?
Well, unless you...
Ah, yes, Feldsher, there you are.
I see the Bolsheviks gave
you a beating as well.
They... they wanted a map.
I said no.
Again and again I said no.
But they wouldn't stop.
You mustn't blame yourself.
I've to go.
They know about the train.
No, no one's to blame.
But I can't just stay here and do nothing.
Feldsher, you have to stay in the hospital.
This isn't a hospital.
We don't have a bandage
let alone medicines.
Yes, but it's too dangerous, isn't it.
Doctor, a friend of mine
is in mortal danger,
a very dear friend of mine.
He's the only man I've ever...
known to appreciate
nuances of a good atlas.
Or a perfectly delivered anecdote.
A man who appreciates a pickled sprat
and a walk in the glade.
Although, obviously not at the same time.
Come with me, doctor.
As I said, no one's to blame.
Come on doctor, only 40 versts to go.
40?!
We have to flag down the train
before it reaches the Bolsheviks.
Come on hero.
I do have a gun shot wound,
it really does hurt.
Well, perhaps you can find
something for it on the train.
After you rescue Natasha of course.
You know, Feldsher, it is late, isn't it?
I'm sure you're very tired.
So if you wanted to lie down
for a minute, I'd understand.
Demyan? Your name is Demyan?
Yeah, Demyan Lukich.
Demyan Lukich?
Well, well, well, isn't that funny.
I never would've have you down as a Demyan.
Well, I am a Demyan.
You don't mind if I still call
you the Feldsher, do you?
Shush.
I can hear the train.
It's coming, it's coming.
No, it's not, it's going.
It's going.
It's gone.
After you.
Feldsher.
Feldsher. Feldsher.
Dem... Feldsher.
Over here.
Natasha?
Yeah.
Natasha, you're hurt.
You came after me.
Yes, yes, I felt bad about
what happened. And...
Well, I... I just hope
we can still be friends.
Perhaps we can talk about this later?
I think my leg is broken.
Yes, of course.
It was more than a chandelier
that fell on me this time.
Yes, it was a crate.
A chance for you to saw off the fifth leg.
No, no, it's not that bad, yet.
I just need to find some...
Oh, God, I thought this
train had medical supplies.
Wait here.
Want to say I told you so, but...
No, wait, I do.
I didn't know these would be here.
But we live in hope.
Excuse me, I have a patient to see.
- Go on then, it's only a small fire.
- Small?
Doctor? Doctor? Help!
Come on, you're a big strong boy,
carry her out, you still got time.
Or would you rather I held you back,
told you it's too dangerous.
Mika, please.
Said there was nothing you could
do, even though there is.
Come on, this is it.
The chance to be a genuine hero.
Shut up.
Doctor,
help!
Just how much pain is she in, doctor?
Yes, that's it, run.
Faster!
Go on, don't forget to limp.
Other foot.
Come on.
Come on.
No, no.
No.
Look at it.
Look at the poor girl.
Look at what you've done.
You're an addict.
Look at it.
You did this.
All you are is morphine.
Yes! Yes!
You're right.
I'm an addict, I'm a hopeless addict.
There's nothing I can do.
None of this is my fault.
Yes, it is.
I can't be the man you want me to be.
I don't want love,
I don't want forgiveness,
I just want morphine.
Does it hurt?
A little.
This will help.
Comrade doctor,
it is nearly two years since
you were posted to Muryevo,
in the district of Corabovo.
In that time you've proved yourself
to be an extremely capable physician.
You've shouldered great responsibility
with the maturity that belies your age.
This is not to mention the
frequent acts of heroism
shown in aid of our glorious cause,
twice you were shot and badly wounded
trying to secure vital medicines to save
the lives of your fellow Bolsheviks.
What kind of a coat you call this?
And of course your academic
record speaks for itself,
fifteen fives is unprecedented.
Valiant comrade,
Moscow urgently needs doctors
of your undoubted caliber.
We would be honored if you
were to accept a position
at the Moscow Institute
of Venereal Diseases.
Doctor?
Sorry, I'm late.