Image and sound digitally restored
by Mosfilm Cinema Concern MOSFILM Creative Association 'LUCH' V I Y 'Viy' is a great product
of popular imagination, a folk legend. I did not strive in any way
to change it, narrating it almost as
ingenuously as I heard it. Nikolai Gogol Written by A. PTUSHKO, K. ERSHOVA
G. KROPACHEVA Based on the eponymous story
by Nikolai Gogol Directed by Alexander PTUSHKO Co-directed by K. ERSHOVA
G. KROPACHEVA Camera by F.PROVOROV
V. PISCHALNIKOV Production Designer
N. MARKIN Music by Karen KHACHATURIAN Featuring: Khoma - Leonid KURAVLEV Pannochka - N. VARLEY
Cossack Lieutenant - A. GLAZYRIN Witch - N. KUTUZOV Khalyava - V. ZAKHARCHENKO
Rector - P. VESKLIAROV Gorobets - V. SALNIKOV Overko - D. KAPKA
Dorosh - P. VESKLIAROV Yavtukh - S. SHKURAT Read it, Reverend Rector. Rector! And so, as you are going home, do not play mischievous tricks. On the previous vacation
two seminarians stole chickens
in the guise of demons. I mean you, seminarians
Zozulya and Lemesh! Three others made
a deacon drunk and told him to sing
obscene songs. For shame! Let's pray to the Lord. O Lord, bless me with a spirit
of wisdom and understanding... ...and lighten my heart
and understanding of things. I shall take any punishment
in Thy glory And in Thy glory
I shall learn many a thing... Amen. Come back by the Nativity
of the Most Holy Mother of God. Devil take it, there must be a village here. I swear I can't see a damned thing. Where's the road? No road. You turn right
and I'll go straight on. Hey. Gorobets! - Gorobets!
- Hullo! Hell's bells, I mistook you
for a stump. - What's there?
- No road. Just fox holes. What do we do? Let's sing, maybe they'll hear us. Why don't we camp out
in the field? No, Khalyava. Let's try again, maybe we'll come across
a village and will get a nightcap. Right. We don't want to sleep in the field. Village! I swear, it's a village! Come on, boys. Step on it! We need to get
shelter for the night. - Open up!
- Please. Who is there? Humble folk,
theologian Khalyava. - Philosopher Brute.
- Student Gorobets. Tut-tut, my house is full, there's no room for you. Granny, have mercy. You can't suffer
Christian souls perish. - Give us shelter.
- Say, if we be helpmates in something for you... Very well, I'll let you in but you'll sleep
in different places. Be it so, we don't mind. Granny, as they say... There's a juggernaut in my tummy. Not a sliver in a whole day! Look at them! I haven't even heated
my stove today. We'd pay you handsomely
in the morning. Like hell we'll get it
from the old hag. - Come over here, my lad.
- Who? Me? Me? You sleep inside. You, Lanky, go to the closet. - What is it, granny?
- Come... What do you want, granny? It's Lent, you know. I wouldn't want to break a fast,
not even for a thousand gold pieces. You're too old, mischievous one. What's with you, granny?
God forbid. My, she's a witch. You shameless witch,
come down, let me be! In the name of the Lord
God Jesus Christ come down, let me be. It's not me chasing you away,
but Christ and apostle Thomas. Oh, I can't take it anymore... Khoma! Shoo! - You need tar.
- I know. - Khoma!
- What? Go to the rector.
Someone has come for you. Dominus Khoma! The daughter of a rich Cossack
lieutenant, - his farmstead is 50 versts away
from Kiev, - was beaten badly yesterday and
could hardly reach her home. On her death bed
she expressed a wish that you, Khoma Brute,
should read prayers for her. Reverend Rector,
I don't know how to do it. Don't you thwart me.
Get ready without delay. The Lieutenant has sent his men
and a light carriage. Do what you will,
I'm not going. No-bloody-body is asking you
whether you will or won't. Send my thanks for the honey
and eggs. And tell your lord: once I get the books he wants
I'll send them right away. I'll tell you what. If you go on
acting as a smart philosopher, I'll get your back and other parts whipped with young birch twigs so you can't go to the banya. Godspeed to you!
My regards to the gentleman. Fix them some liquor, Yavtukh. Don't stand here, go! And remember my words. Tie the philosopher up
so he doesn't run away. - Hello, fellow-brothers!
- Hello, Mr. Philosopher. So I have to sit with you here? - That's a good carriage!
- Very commensurate. If there were musicians,
we could dance here. I wonder. If goods
were loaded into it, say, salt or iron tires, how many horses would be required? Sufficient numbers of horses. I wonder what malady
the pannochka was betaken with that she should be prayed for. Mr. Philosopher, we haven't reached
our destination yet. Pull down!
A tavern! Pull down! Halt! Here we are. Off you get, Mr. Philosopher. Remember to water the horses! Welcome, highly esteemed gentlemen. - You have got liquor?
- Sure. Do come in. Let's drink the Rector's health,
fellas. Now let's drink the Rector's health. - Have a drink.
- Go for it, gentlemen. A lad drank liquor in plenty Though his pockets
were empty Pour it out! Pour it out, gal! Tell me what they teach you
in the seminary: what sextons read in church
or something else? - He's a learned man.
- I'll go to seminary too. I bet I will! You think I won't make it?
I will! God Almighty, be it so. A lad drank liquor in plenty Though his pockets
were empty - I want to know...
- Go to hell. Don't ask.
God knows it all. I want to know what's written
in those books. Maybe something else
rather than? What are you saying? Let me go.
Why should you need me? - Let him go.
- Let him go. Off you go, Mr. Philosopher. Don't worry,
the master won't know. - Hey, get going.
- Let me go, fellas. Please. The pannochka has passed away. The pannochka has passed away. Shut up!
The pannochka has passed away. - She has?
- Already? Hush, Serko, the pannochka
has passed away! Shall we let Khoma go? Yes, let him go home. Let him go home. Leave him alone. The pannochka has passed away. Dirty bitch... Don't think you can slip away,
Mr. Philosopher. It's not the place you can leave. Go to the master,
he's waiting for you in the front room. Well...
My pleasure. My deepmost sorrow,
oh my dearest daughter, is not even that you left this world in the prime of life... The trouble is
I don't know my worst enemy
who caused your death. Who and what are you and of
what estate, my good man? I'm a seminarian.
The philosopher Khoma Brute. Who was your father? I don't know. - And your mother?
- Don't know either. If you come to think of it,
there was a mother. But I really can't say who
she was and where she came from. How did you meet my daughter? I never met her, my noble milord. I never dealt with them
young ladies. Deuce take them, not to say
something improper. Why is that she named you
as the reader? God only knows
how to explain it. Noble people's wishes
can hardly be interpreted by even the most learned men. As the saying goes,
always do a nobleman's bidding. You're not lying, are you? May a thunder strike me if I am. If she lived a minute longer,
I'd have known. 'Don't let anybody
read a prayer for me. Send for Khoma Brute
in the Kiev seminary and bring him here. Tell him to pray three nights
for my sinful soul. He knows...' What does he know? I never heard. I presume you are known
for your holy life and godly deeds. She might have heard about you. Me?
Holy life? For God's sake! Nothing of the kind! I was with the bakeress
on the eve of Passions Thursday. But she appointed you. You should start today. Your Honor, allow me to say that every man versed
in the Holy Scripture can do it commensurately. But a deacon or a sexton would be
more appropriate here. They know it
and they'd do it right. And me... My voice is wrong
and I'm the deuce knows what. Unpresentable! Nonetheless, I'm gonna
execute my dove's will. I'll spare nothing. If, starting from today, you zealously read prayers for her
for three nights, I'll reward you, or else... Oh my dear, how am I going to live
without you? Rise and look at me. Forgive the deceased
the first time. Forgive the deceased
the second time. Forgive the deceased
the third time. Give him something to eat
and take him to the church. Tell him what the witch did
to the huntsman. Pity you didn't know Mikita,
Mr. Philosopher. He was a rare man. Knew every dog like his own father. He was a fine lad. Some time ago he began
to pay attention to the pannochka. - Maybe he fell for her.
- Or maybe she charmed him. He was a lost man under her thumb. One day she came to the stable
where he was brushing a horse and said:
'May I put my foot on you?' The poor guy
was only too happy. 'Not only your foot,
you can saddle me up.' The fool offered his back
and started racing around. Now, gentlemen, we will take Mr. Philosopher
to the deceased. Well...
Take care, man. - And good luck to you.
- Good luck. We'll lock you, sorry.
The master's order. Not to worry.
I'll work three nights and the master will fill my pockets
with gold coins. Not to fear. She can't rise from her casket cos she'd beware of the word of God. Right? Right.
Let her lay there. I wouldn't be a Cossack
if I feared. No man can come here. As for dead men and evil spirits,
I have prayers. I say prayers and they
won't even touch me. I mean they won't. Why fear? I had a drop too much
and I am just seeing things. Candles. That's good. I'll lighten the church so brightly to make it look like daylight. I just read for three nights. I should lighten the church
so brightly to make it look
like daylight. Why fear? Won't even touch me. Damn, Satan.
Lord, forgive me, a sinner. Like daylight! Let's read. Blessed... Oh God... Blessed are the undefiled
who walk the way of the Lord; Blessed are they
that keep His testimonies and that seek Him
with their whole heart. Pity I can't smoke
in the Lord's House. They also do no iniquity;
they walk in His ways. Thou hast commanded us
to keep thy precepts... Just a sniff... Good tobacco. Fine tobacco. Excellent tobacco. O Lord, my strength... Witch! A real witch! Holy circle, save me.
Holy circle, keep me. Oh my Lord!
Oh my Lord... Holy circle, save me.
Holy circle, keep me. Get thee gone! Blessed are the undefiled that walk
in the way of the Lord... Get thee gone! O Lord, I cry into the day
and won't be heard. I will love thee,
O Lord, my strength... The Lord is my rock,
and my fortress... My God, my strength,
in whom I will trust... My God, my deliverer... Get thee gone! - Here goes the Philosopher.
- He did it. A nice spot for living and fishing. My dear man! I won't sleep in the courtyard.
I'll sleep here. No, you can't,
Mr. Philosopher. - Have you made borsch, girls?
- We have. - Is it good?
- Ask the Philosopher. - Well?
- You saw anything? Yeah, I did see something. I drank water, icy water
but I never had enough Hey, as long as I'm around
I will not forget my love Hey, as long as I'm around
I will not forget my love. A Cossack should fear nothing
in this world. Let's go, Yavtukh. A Cossack should fear nothing
in this world. At first it's scary. Then it's not. Absolutely not. It's not scary now.
I'll be alright. O Lord, rebuke me not
in thine anger, neither chasten me
in thy hot displeasure. Have mercy on me, O Lord;
for I am weak: O Lord, heal me;
for my bones are vexed. My soul is also sore vexed. Let not the flood
overflow me, neither let the deep
swallow me up... O Lord, heal me...
O Lord, heal me! Thy terrors have cut me off… Thy terrors have cut me off
and left me afflicted... But thou, O Lord, how long? O my God, I trust in thee... Let me not be ashamed!
Deliver me a sinner! Khoma! Khoma! Inflict blindness on him; put grey hair on him; charm and cover him in white snow. Hey, Philosopher, get up! Musicians! I want musicians! He's been dancing a lot. Yes, quite a lot. - Hey, what's with you?
- You silly woman, I'm dancing. My! Ain't your hair grey! Your hair has turned grey
like old Yavtukh's. I'll go and explain everything
to the gentleman. I don't want to read anymore. What? How is it going? All's well? Well? There's devilry, I might as well grab my cap
and take to my heels. - Why so?
- Your daughter is of noble origin of course,
I must admit that much, but don't take it hard...
may she rest in peace... - What about my daughter?
- She befriended Satan and no scriptures
are of use here. Read prayers.
So that's why she called you. My dove sought to salvage her soul and banish evil with prayer. Very sorry but I can't go on. Yes, you can. It's just one night and I'll reward you
for your godly deed. Whatever the reward... I'm sorry, my lord,
but I will not pray any longer. Listen... Philosopher. I don't like it. You can do such things
in the seminary but not here. I'll skin you alive
in contrast to your rector. You know leather stripes? Don't I! Everyone knows that leather stripes
in quantities are hard to bear. My men know well
how to go about it. First they boil them, then sprinkle with liquor, then again. Go. Do your job. You don't do it,
you are lost. You do it, you get
a thousand gold pieces. A thousand gold pieces! The old miser must be lying. Well, Lieutenant,
I'll run so fast your dogs'll never keep up with me. 'tis a shame you made
such a long detour. And you've spoiled your frock-coat. Good stuff. How much is it? A match into your tongue,
uncle Yavtukh. Damned bitch! No?
Go to the church then. Scared, Philosopher?
The witch'll give you what-for. Me scared?
Ain't I a Cossack? God'll help me
on the third night too. I guess the witch was a great sinner since the evil spirits
intercede for her. Well, Mr. Philosopher, time to go. Come on, my dear man. - There's the pannochka for you.
- Such is his lot. I read the third night and the gentleman forks out
a thousand gold coins. Will I go on a spree! Go and read the prayers. Go read, Philosopher. I won't be scared, I swear to God. O my God, I cry in the daytime,
but thou hearest not; and in the night season,
and am not silent. I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up; while I suffer thy terrors
I am distracted. O God: thou art my help and my deliverer; Oh Lord,
make no tarrying Will thou show wonders to the dead? Shall the dead arise
and praise thee? They gather themselves together, they hide themselves,
they mark my steps, when they wait for my soul… In the grave
who shall give thee thanks? I’m weary with my groaning… I will cast a spell on you! O God!
Pour out thy indignation upon her, and let thy wrathful anger
take hold of her! I conjure a Haiduk, a dog tail, a bat! I shall charm you! I shall charm you! Hey, vampires and werewolves! Hey, vampires and werewolves! I summon Viy! Bring Viy here! Find him! Find him! Lift my eyelids. I can't see him. I mustn't look at him. A cockerel! Here he is! Come to your senses...
mindless creatures! Help! No luck for Khoma. God willed it thus. God repose his soul. A fine lad he was, Khoma. A good man. - He perished in vain.
- I know why. He had fear. If he didn't, the witch couldn't
have harmed him. One should just make
the sign of the cross and spit on her tail. I know it all. All market women in Kiev are witches. He got scared and perished. Who saw him perish? People are saying... What if it's old wives' tales? I mean that he's dead,
and about the witch. I saw worse things
after a third drink. Perhaps he isn't dead after all. Perhaps he's coming here. See? The hell he is. - Working?
- Working. Godspeed... THE END Restoration Producer
Karen SHAKHNAZAROV © MOSFILM CINEMA CONCERN, 2018
This film, based on a Gogol story. Has charmingly DIY feeling special effects and a creepy vibe.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viy_(1967_film)?wprov=sfti1