Zorba the Greek

Synopsis: An aimless English writer finds he has a small inheritance on a Greek island. His joyless existence is disturbed when he meets Zorba, a middle aged Greek with a real lust for life. As he discovers the earthy pleasures of Greece, the Englishman finds his view on life changing.
Genre: Comedy, Drama
Director(s): Michael Cacoyannis
Production: Fox
  Won 3 Oscars. Another 4 wins & 16 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.8
Rotten Tomatoes:
86%
NOT RATED
Year:
1964
142 min
2,379 Views


Be careful.

Crete.

Excuse me.

He says, "Big storm. Ship must wait."

- How long?

- I don't know.

You're traveling.

Where to, with your permission?

Crete.

And you stay there long, no?

How do you know?

I watch you with all the boxes

in the rain. Very funny.

I like you.

Take me with you. Will you?

Take..?

- Why?

- Why?

Will no man ever do something without

a "why?" Just like that. For the hell of it.

All right, take me as a cook.

I make soups like...

You like soups, no?

- Well...

- Of course you do. You're English, no?

- Half.

- Half?

My father was Greek,

but I was born in England.

Same thing.

With your permission.

Hey...

"Virginia."

- No. No, thank you.

- Please.

Keep the packet.

Only one.

Are you a cook?

If you need one, I am.

What I meant was,

what work do you do?

Listen to him. I got hands,

feet, head. They do the jobs.

Who the hell am I to choose?

Well then, what was the most recent?

In a mine. I am a good miner.

I have a clever nose for the metals.

But I beat up the boss,

and they kicked me out.

I'm getting awfully nervous

about the boat. I think I'll...

If you like, I go ask.

No, thank you. It's... It's all right.

Well, maybe we could go together

and then you could ask for me.

- Sure. Give me.

- No. Thank you, I can manage.

He says 10:
00.

Well, that's three whole hours. Damn.

- Are you in big hurry?

- No.

Then it's all right. Come.

Roumi. That's "rum."

- I'll have some tea, if you don't mind.

- Tea?

And you, mister, what do you do?

Me? Well, I'm a writer.

Excuse me, but you look it.

What do you write? Love stories?

No. Poetry. Essays.

What's that?

Essays.

No. You think too much.

That is your trouble.

Clever people and grocers,

they weigh everything.

Me? If I was you, I would look

at me straight and I would say:

"Zorba, come." Or, "Zorba, don't come."

Zorba?

That's me:
Alexis Zorba.

- I have other names, if you are interested.

- Oh, I am.

"Spaghetti," because I am long.

And "California,"

because I have been to America.

And "Epidemic," because every place

I go, people say I louse things up.

Your health.

Listen to that b*tch, the sea.

That maker of widows.

What have you got in there?

Clothes?

You ask such sensible questions.

- It's my santouri.

- Your what?

My santouri.

Makes the best music.

It goes with me always.

And you, what are you go to

do in Crete? With your permission.

I have some land there.

It belonged to my father.

And you go to write?

Not exactly.

What, exactly?

I haven't written anything in months.

On this land, there's an old mine.

- Lignite.

- Lignitis! I know!

It's been idle for years.

Why?

Because I let it.

And now you want to make it work.

If I can.

Yes.

I must.

Which way is it going?

- What?

- The weighing machine.

Zorba up, or Zorba down?

Well. I was thinking...

That mine...

I'm not very rich, and I will need

someone with experience.

- So I...

- And so?

Well, although I...

I don't really know you very well...

And what I'm doing is probably mad.

It's yes.

Yes?

Yes.

Shake.

Mister, you are a lucky man.

When Zorba goes to work...

...no mine stands a chance.

Be wonderful to get down

to some real work.

Also, it'll be good for the village.

I understand it's rather poor.

We make everybody happy.

And we'll have fun too.

We'll swim. And we'll drink wine.

And you'll play the santouri.

What's the matter?

It's about the santouri.

We make a bargain, or I cannot come.

In work, I am your man.

But in things like playing

and singing, I am my own.

How do you mean?

I mean free.

You...

...you sign?

I sign.

- Here.

- But I don't drink rum.

This time you will.

Why start with the wrong foot?

Well, Zorba, God bless.

And the devil too, boss!

You like her, boss?

No.

Are you all right?

Sure.

Here.

Thanks, boss.

Your friend in there

will be looking for you.

Incidentally, you never told me.

Are you married?

Am I not a man?

And is not a man stupid?

I'm a man. So I married.

Wife, children, house. Everything.

The full catastrophe.

What happened?

Be a pal, boss.

Don't make me talk.

And you?

No, I'm single.

I guess too many books.

Look! Look! A dolphin.

Why, yes.

What kind of a man are you?

Don't you even like dolphins?

- I hope we find somewhere to stay.

- Sure.

Have you never heard

of Cretan hospitality?

Now, Mr. Epidemic, you behave yourself.

We don't want to start another war.

Boss, if there is a widow around,

don't worry.

- What are they all saying?

- They all want us to stay with them.

Madame Hortense.

Who is that?

- Who's Madame Hortense?

- A French woman.

She has hotel.

I am Mavrandoni.

So you come at last. I welcome you.

- I'm glad to meet you. You got my letter?

- Yes.

Mr. Mavrandoni has been

looking after our land.

This Madame. She's a widow?

How many hairs on my head?

She's a widow of the same number

of husbands.

Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Welcome, gentlemen.

This is a great pleasure, Madame.

Two beds, Madame.

Without bugs.

Monsieur, Madame Hortense

has not the bugs.

You have to admit, boss. It is big.

But she shakes it well.

This way.

They say it was my grand success.

You may not believe it, monsieur,

but I was a very famous artiste.

I appear in all the most chic cabarets.

I slept in the silk sheets with real lace.

- Boss, ask her to dance.

- What?

- Make a pass. Pinch her.

- No.

It's only polite.

What?

He would like to dance with you.

But he is shy.

Perhaps Madame is tired.

She is not.

Are you?

Come on.

These Cretans. They are so ungrateful.

Don't cry, my little chouchou.

They would be dead, all dead,

if there was not me.

I know, I know.

- No hands.

- Madame.

Hey.

Boss. Match?

Madame.

You know how I came to Crete?

With the British fleet. Yes, monsieur.

I was in love with the admiral...

...and where he go, I go.

It was here that I met the other three.

What other three?

Admirals, of course.

The French, the Italian

and the Russian.

How lovely they was,

my four admirals...

...with their golden epaulets

and all those feathers.

Like big, beautiful cockerels!

And what beards.

So soft, and curly and perfumed.

Fortunately, each has different

perfume, so it was no mistake...

...even in the dark.

My little chouchou. Here, here.

- My darling queen, please continue.

- Yes.

Me and my admirals...

...we sit on the deck...

...dressed very informal...

...and we discussion politics.

Very serious.

All the time they pour champagne

over me to make me fresh.

It was summer, you know, very hot.

And in this time, in Crete...

...it was big trouble.

Revolution or something.

With my binoculars I could see

the poor little Cretans...

...running in mountains

with their flags.

My four admirals...

...they want to open the fire.

But I throw myself in the middle.

I pull the Italian by the beard...

You know, I was

more familiar with him.

And I cry:

"Stop it, you can't kill them!

Please, Canavaro, Canavaro mio,

no boom-boom!"

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Michael Cacoyannis

Michael Cacoyannis (Greek: Μιχάλης Κακογιάννης, Michalis Kakogiannis; 11 June 1922 – 25 July 2011) was a Greek Cypriot filmmaker, best known for his 1964 film Zorba the Greek. He directed the 1983 Broadway revival of the musical based on the film. Much of his work was rooted in classical texts, especially those of the Greek tragedian Euripides. He was nominated for an Academy Award five times, a record for any Cypriot film artist. He received Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Film nominations for Zorba the Greek, and two nominations in the Foreign Language Film category for Electra and Iphigenia. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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