Perestroika Page #7

probably go to a cafe at three

in the morning,

at 5 in the morning, at 7

o'clock.

Yes.

I hate it! I hate all of this.

Because there aren't any cafes?

Because there isn't any life.

Don't make jokes, sir.

Do you think you're my father?

I don't really know.

What do you think?

I don't know. But I don't think

so.

According to my papers, I am

sixteen.

Which means that you left at least

six months before she got pregnant.

Of course, she could've forged

them.

Who?

My mother. She can do anything.

You're so harsh.

I hate her.

She is an old lying b*tch.

Well, obviously our perspectives

are a little different.

Want to know what I think of

your mother?

Yeah.

She's a lovely, talented woman.

A hard worker. Alone, she

managed not only to have a

career in science,

but to raise you as well.

That's a miracle in itself.

Through all this she's retained

a youthful sense of romanticism.

You call her a liar, but I'd

rather think of her as romantic.

Because she lies? Yeah?

We were talking about tomorrow.

You know what she wants to do?

She was dreaming of showing me

an old church.

I'm sure. She takes all her men

to that stupid church.

She's been there a thousand

times.

You are cruel.

You're cruel! Don't you see?

If you loved her even a little

bit, you wouldn't make her sound

like such a saint.

I don't think I understand.

And what do you do understand?

I want to tell you about myself.

I grew up under the portrait of

a man I never met.

He was a hero, they said.

A man who wasn't afraid to apply

for emigration when his chances

were nil.

But mostly, he was going to

conquer the Universe.

A genius. The new Einstein.

Kiss me.

Not like that. For real.

Elena.

You're supposed to know how to

take a risk.

This is my cab. Yours is the

next one. See you tomorrow.

Hi.

Morning.

Were you waiting for me?

Yeah. You want to get some

sleep?

It's already morning.

Why bother?

What do you want most of all

right now?

Seriously?

Absolutely.

An interesting question.

There's no rush.

Think about it.

I'd really like to see the house

where I grew up.

Something has definitely changed

here.

I can't believe this.

We're finally alone.

To think that, in this yard, I

spent several thousand of my

childhood days.

I recognize it, but, at the same

time, I don't.

I have this strange feeling I'm going

to wake up in New York any minute now.

You know, I can't find our

windows.

It's as if they disappeared.

Maybe I am sleeping?

Or losing my mind.

The window has been bricked up. The

building was remodeled five years ago.

They were going to tear it down,

but changed their minds.

Stop, kike!

Stop. kike! Stop kike!

Kike-take a hike!

We've got you now!

Ugh! I smell garlic!

Ugh! The kike stinks of garlic!

You're Sasha Greenberg, aren't

you?

Yes, I am.

I'm Volodya Listov.

We've got you now, you dirty

kike!

On your knees, kike!

Down, I said!

Do you recognize me?

We haven't seen each other in,

what, since we were twelve or

so, when you moved away.

I recognized you, though.

We used to be friends when we

were kids.

When we were little, we used to fight,

of course, but kids are supposed to.

Repeat after me:

"I am a dirty kike..."

I am a dirty kike...

"I stink."

I stink.

"I am gross."

I am gross.

"I am begging you to beat the

sh*t out of me."

I am begging you to beat me.

Then we used to share a desk at

school.

I, a young pioneer of the Union

of Soviet Socialist Republics,

here, before my comrades, do

solemnly swear to always uphold

the ideals of Lenin and Stalin

and to fight for Victory of

Communism everywhere.

To fight for the ideals of Lenin

and Stalin. Be prepared!

Always prepared!

You're lucky you ran into me. I am

the only one left of the old tenants.

Everyone's been moved out to the

new developments.

The building's not the same,

either.

All the walls have been moved

around.

I can't even show you your old apartment

- it doesn't exist anymore.

I am the only one who could get

a place here after they renovated.

And that, um, only because it was mainly

my efforts that saved the building.

You must be pretty powerful to

be able to save buildings.

Don't you know? I'm a writer.

Pretty famous too, in a way.

Where do you live, What do you do?

I live in America. I'm in

cosmology -

that's a science about how the

Universe works.

Interesting stuff! Do you want

to come in for a while?

We can talk, have a drink over

old times.

I really don't think so.

We're on a very tight schedule.

We have to meet someone in a

half hour.

Krymsky. At his church. Then

Sasha has to give his report.

Krymsky, the millionaire? I know

him a little. If you don't mind,

I'd like to join you.

Morning. Hello.

Hello. Good morning.

Ah, my worst enemy!

Good of you to join us!

What brings you here?

I've long been curious to see what

you do here. You have an objection?

Not at all! Welcome, welcome.

Any tongue-lashing by your magazine

is just free publicity for us.

You see, he calls me his worst enemy!

And he's not far from the truth.

Why, of course, I am.

Look! He's turned God's house into

a honky-tonk, for Christ's sake!

You people want me to be happy

about it?

Would you prefer if it were

still a warehouse for boots?

I didn't turn it into a

warehouse.

I would prefer it to still be a

house of God.

Him and his lot, you wait,

they'll be calling me a

reactionary and an anti-Semite.

Well, if you want, I am a

reactionary.

Now they're poisoning our youth

with this rock'n'roll crap.

By "they" you mean Jews, of

course?

You see, what did I tell you?

You know, there are Jews and

there are Jews.

I have friends who are Jews.

A profiteer like him, who's

Russian,

why, he's just as revolting to

me as a Jew profiteer.

Anyway, nobody can deny that

there's a disproportionately

large amount of Jews

in this new "private sector". Just

as there was in the revolution.

And just who do you think made

warehouses out of churches?

Jews are so overly sensitive to

criticism.

At Nuremberg they tried such

critics! Understand?

Yes, no doubt Russia of 1992

was drastically different from

Russia prior to Perestroika.

In the churches boot warehouses

were replaced with

freedom-loving rock singers,

and Krimsky was running business

activities which in the Russia I left

were punishable by years of

imprisonment or even execution

by firing squads.

So, what does your company

really do?

Are you a scientific research facility,

a film studio, or a rock theatre?

It's like a daisy flower

- in the center is the main enterprise

from which sprout separate

ventures and petals.

Our major petal I'll be showing

you tomorrow.

Site seeing tours of Moscow on

"troikas" with gypsies.

"Troikas"? What's "troikas"?

They're carriages drawn by three

horses together.

Very Russian.

Very Russian.

They're waiting for us in the editing

room, ready to start, I believe.

And now we were going to see footage,

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