Mosfilm presents
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Requested by the USSR State TV and Radio Broadcasting Committee
In 1780, a carriage crossed the Russian border...
carrying in it a renowned across all Europe mystic and intrigant...
the Count Cagliostro.
- That's enough, senora!
We're in Russia, so please speak Russian.
- That's what the great master demands. - No!
- Yes!
[Mock Italian]
- Oh, "stronzo"?
- I no can do!
My head no able! No remember!
- It is able.
- Yes!
- The head is always able.
- Especially if it's the head of the great master. Am I right?
- Yes.
- My head nicht.
- Russian speech is no more difficult than others.
- Absolutely.
- You should be ashamed. Take Margadon -- an uncultured man.
- Couldn't get any worse.
- Even he learned it.
Margadon!
- One more spoonful, dear. There we go, very good.
- Study hard, and it will pay.
Maidens work, gentlemen play.
Don't spit in a well, you may need it some day.
And as they say...
- Double-check the mirrors.
The head is always able, so let's start from the very beginning.
- Devil screw you all!
Greetings!
- Softer.
Like you're singing a song.
Concentrate.
Even softer.
Now please!
- Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!
And so, let us begin!
"The Formula of Love"
Based on the novel "Count Cagliostro" by Aleksey Tolstoy.
Screenplay: Mark Zakharov
- It's a common trick.
That's sulphuric acid.
- I am Giuseppe Cagliostro...
Supreme hierarch of all matter.
I appeal to incorporeal forces...
to great sacraments of fire, water and earth.
I submit myself to their power...
and adjure them to transport my incorporeal substance...
from present time to the future...
so I could glimpse the faces of our descendants...
living in a distant era yet to come.
- Good to see you.
- Likewise.
- I want to ask you, sir, about the fates...
of the people gathered here in St-Petersburg...
on this day in the summer of the year 1780.
Are you ready to respond?
- Enquire.
- Are you ready to tell us the whole truth?
- Well, maybe, maybe not... What interests you?
- Ask about me, count!
How much do I have left?
- The mists of time my gaze encumber And writs of fate are hard to glean.
I do make out a certain number... Nineteen.
- What does that mean?
- The coming 19th century will bring you peace, madam.
- And there I was, thinking it was time to die, the old fool.
Could you ask, dearie...
Should I get married, then, one last time?
- Could you ask, count, should I sell the estate or not?
- My mother, count. My mother...
- Would you shut up about your useless tripe?
Ask about the Turks.
When will the war with the Turks be over?
- He's transcending.
- He's getting out.
- Where is he going?
- Why, into the future, of course.
- From his eminence prince Potemkin.
I have an order to detain Mr. Cagliostro...
and to deliver him to his office for explanations.
- That is impossible. He's in the future.
- We'll get him from the future. Won't be the first time.
- Go fast, Jacob!
- Giddy up, darlings! Fortissimo, mama mia, giddy up!
- What else have we got today?
- Visit with general Bibikov to discuss magnetism.
- Ugh.
- Visit with chamber-fraulein Golovina in order to...
rejuvenate her and turn her into a maiden.
- Won't make it.
- Countess von Kieswetter -- transforming mercury into gold.
I must warn you that we're all out of mercury.
- You're so mercantile, Margadon. Ever think about the soul?
- About the soul?
The soul... the soul...
Maria.
- Maria!
- You're feeling better, sir?
- Yes...
It eased off...
- Wizard!
How could we thank you enough?
- No need. Thank nature, she's the one who heals.
I'm a crude instrument in her hands.
A few more sessions, Ivan Antonovich, and your illness would be cured...
...but alas...
Circumstances demand that I leave St-Petersburg immediately.
- Any way to delay that?
- No, I'm expected in Warsaw, Paris and Copenhagen.
- What about Daddy?
- There is one solution, but I'm afraid it will be misinterpreted.
One of the people close to the patient could leave with me.
That is to say, a relative.
This way I could treat the patient via an intermediary...
through one of his kin.
I've done this previously in my practice and it bore fruit.
- But who have we got?
Just me... and Mashenka.
- No, how could that be?
A young woman, alone, in a company of men.
- I knew that I'd be misunderstood. - We knew it.
- People have long stopped believing in noble intentions.
- Not a soul! - For shame!
- Shame!
- Mr. Cagliostro! Wait! I accept!
- What if I'm lying?
What if I'm in love and want to kidnap you?
Then what?
- You jest.
When someone is in love, you can tell.
- How can you tell?
- By the eyes.
Your eyes are...
- Cold?
Empty?
- Go fast, Jacob!
- Giddy up, darlings! Fortissimo, mama mia!
- The river flows from distant glens
where natal sunrise brightly kindles.
It gently rocks the boats, and then...
into the ever-after...
...dwindles.
Powerful lines, auntie, aren't they?
- About the river? Yes, they are.
Why don't you go for a swim?
Or go fishing, perhaps?
- What are you saying, auntie...
The river of life dwindles into the ever-after...
What does this have to do with fishing?
- I thought perhaps you felt like some fish soup.
Well, if you don't, there's nothing wrong with noodles.
- Oh, auntie... We both use Russian...
and yet speak two different languages.
I'm trying to talk to you about the meaning of life itself.
Why were humans put on this earth?
Tell me.
- Well, that's a bit much!
Then again, put on earth where?
If like us, in Smolensk province, that's one thing.
If in Tambov province, that's completely different.
- No, this is all too much.
- It's high time you got married, my dear, that's what I'll tell you.
You need something prettier to look at, than an old rag like me.
Much more of that and you'll come down with something nasty.
- Marry?
Why?
And whom, beg your pardon?
- Well, goodness!
Our neighbours Zagosins, for example.
Three daughters, very good looking!
Practically blooming with health.
Mashenka, Sashenka, Aglashenka...
What's not to like?
- Oh, auntie, I didn't escape the capital and the high society...
only to sink in a conjugal swamp.
Let's say I get married, what then?
I'll spend entire days wearing a bathrobe...
and my wife, who is supposed to be my ideal of love...
will order noodles and start eating them in front of me.
- Why noodles? Doesn't have to be noodles.
And even if it's noodles...
that's not so bad either.
- No, mille pardons, Feodosiya Ivanovna.
That's not what I dream of in my hours of solitude.
- I know what you dream of.
You'll wait!
For shame!
It's embarrassing.
- What are you talking about?
- What about?
That stone dame, that's what it's all about.
All peasants are laughing already.
- My god, I'm being spied on. How pedestrian!
- Looks like the young master has another bout of hypochondria.
- Yeah. About time.
Hypochondria always happens around sunset.
- How come it's around sunset, Stepan Stepanovich?
- From silly doubts, Fimka.
He looks at the sun and wonders -- will it come up tomorrow, or won't it?
As the Latins used to say, "sic transit gloria mundi."
"Thus passes the glory of the world."
- Where is all this Latin coming from?
You don't come from Latins, I don't think?
- Our previous master made all his servants learn Latin.
"I want to feel like I'm in Ancient Rome," he said.
Great educator, he was.
Always told us "aut cesar, aut nihil."
- How did the Latins say "love"?
- For "love," Fimka, they had the word "amor."
"Amor," and with your eyes like this.
- Amor...
You know how much I love you,
o marvelous creation
I love your tender image
your shy and gentle glance.
Your still and pale demeanour
in silent conversation
tells my entire being
so much, so much at once.
Somehow I have this feeling
this phantom recollection
I know your name, I've met you
back in my native land.
Though you are not an angel,
nor goddess, nor perfection
I love you, I adore you,
I am at your command.
- Stop!
What are you...
Where are you taking that?
- The mistress told me to wash it.
- Wash what?
- The sculpture.
- Put it back!
No wait!
Throw it...
...at me.
Not like that!
Slowly!
- He's got a cold, poor dearie.
A cold, bless his soul.
Too much bathing.
- Oh, quit wailing.
The poor dearie hasn't got a cold: he's lost his marbles, that's what.
Dragged this abomination into the house, goodness me!
- Ma tante! Let's not have el scandal in front of others.
I would like this piece of art to be put in my study.
- It's not a piece of art, it's Sodom and Gomorrah.
- There's two of them?
I thought there was only one. - One what?
One Gomorrah.
- From which was this modelled?
- From both of them.
My father put this one up, bless him.
And my father was a womanizer like no other...
Bless his soul.
- Looks kinda like Praskovya Tulupova.
She was the miller's daughter, back in the day.
Man...
A gorgeous girl, she was.
Master had one look at her and went all strange in the head.
"I'll either marry her," he said, "or sculpt her in marble."
- "Amor" happened to him, then?
- What?
- Amor.
- So, her name was Praskovya.
- Not Amor, and not Parskovya.
That's Giselle.
The French girl.
I recognize her...
By her leg.
- No, that can't be Giselle.
Giselle was a brunette.
And this one is all white.
"He's got a cold, poor dearie..."
- Your tongue.
Close.
Open.
Close.
Open.
What's bothering you?
- His head is bothering him.
- That's good.
The lungs are breathing, the heart is beating.
- And the head?
- The head is an obscure object and doesn't lend itself to treating.
- That's clever.
- A bite before you go, doctor?
- A bite is good. When the doctor is full, the patient feels better.
- This way, please.
- Hypochondria, that's all.
- Hypochondria is a cruel condition...
that keeps the soul in a constant depressed state.
Here, medicine can offer several remedies...
the best and most harmless of which is conversation.
The words heal, chatter chases idle thoughts.
Would you like to talk, sir?
- What about?
- Whatever you like.
About the war with the Turks, about the fickleness of climate...
Or, if you like, about Count Cagliostro.
- Who?
- Cagliostro.
- Notable sorcerer and master of the occult forces.
Recently made quite a splash in St-Petersburg.
Newspapers say...
grew precious stones, foretold future...
And that for Fraulein Golovina...
he restored the form of her dead husband from a medallion...
and so well, that she was able to perceive him... and is now pregnant.
- Materialization!
That's "materialization of sensual ideas," I've read of such sacraments!
- No need to get so agitated, my dear!
You're not supposed to be up, lie back down this minute!
- Auntie, dear...
I've been thinking of him, of Cagliostro.
I was going to write him to London, Paris... and he's here in Russia!
- Not only is he in Russia, he's just 20 miles away from here.
The carriage broke down, the smith has fled...
so he's stuck at the Vasilyevsky Inn feeding the bed bugs.
- Bed bugs?
- Great man, great master, and bed-bugs!?
- They cannot tell who is master and who isn't master, you see?
- They cannot tell?
- That may be, but there are still a few enlightened people left in Russia!
- I'm not letting you go!
- There are still people who treasure enlightenment!
- No!
- Alexis! Alexis!
- Fimka! - Yes?
- Keys from the door! - Right away!
- Stepan! My horse!
- I won't let you!
- Oh yeah?
- No!
- Never!
- There are still people who treasure enlightenment!
- He'll hurt himself!
- Giddy up!
- Horrible town. No girls, nobody gambles...
Stole a silver spoon at a pub yesterday...
nobody even noticed -- they figured it was never there.
Your move.
Very well...
Barbaric game, uncultured place... I feel like going home.
- Where's that, anyway? - No idea.
I was born on a ship. Its origin or destination...
nobody remembers.
- Where were you born, Jacob?
- I haven't been born yet. - Haven't?
- No. - And how is that working out?
- I will have a chain of births, and will finally come to this world...
as the Prince of Wales.
- Oh? - Yes.
- That won't be for another couple of hundred years, in the 20th century.
That's what Mr. Cagliostro promised me.
Therefore my current incarnation has absolutely no meaning to me.
- It does to me, in the future I will be a cat.
Therefore I cherish every hour.
And I fail to see why we're stuck in this miserable town.
- Waiting for Lorenza.
- He doesn't care for Lorenza, or for us!
- Your thoughts are far away, miss.
- I am thinking of Daddy.
- Thinking about your Daddy is my job.
You should think about me.
And without resentment, if possible.
- What are you saying? What resentment?
- Am I that repulsive to you, miss?
- Not at all, Mr. Cagliostro!
- Giuseppe.
Didn't I ask you to call me by my name, Giuseppe?
Or just Jose.
That's what my mother called me.
As she petted me on the head.
Like so...
- Your eminence!
I am already in your power.
I came without caring what people would say.
I am staying at the same inn with you.
Why are you torturing me?
I am now neither afraid of death nor anything else.
- I am not a tyrant, miss.
I need true feelings, not obedience.
- You can't command your heart, as our people say.
- Your people say stupid things. The heart is an organ like any other.
And it obeys commands from above.
- Now it's beating really fast...
And now really slowly...
And now it's completely stopped if you like.
Should it stop forever, or should I start back up?
- Start it up, sweet Jesus!
- Starting up...
- Started up. - Again?
- Mm-hmm.
- As you see, the heart obeys the mind.
Feelings obey the heart, the mind obeys the feelings...
The circle is complete: we start with the mind, we end with the mind.
And the result of this...
is that the whole creation...
is nothing but...
a game that my mind plays.
And if you agree with me...
then yours as well.
- Sure.
But... I don't love you, your eminence.
Can you not see that?
- I can, but we're only at the beginning of the experiment.
Gold appears from mercury on the 10th day...
Love from hate on the 15th...
We've been travelling together for 2 weeks.
We're now reaching a critical point.
[Song in mock Italian.]
- What does that mean?
- This is a song about a poor fisherman...
who set out from Naples during a storm.
And his poor girl waited for him on the shore...
until she could wait no longer.
She cast off the last of her clothes, and...
also cast herself into the stormy sea.
And the abyss swallowed her in one moment.
In two words, everyone died.
- Excuse me, sir, is this where resides Mr. Cagliostro?
- Margadon, why is the door not locked?
- Excuse me, master.
- "Excuse me" what?
- Barbaric customs -- they give you the keys, but there are no locks.
- Oh, is this a bad time?
- You, sir, were born at a bad time, but it's too late now. Come in.
- I'm the local landlord Fedyashev...
I came to make your acquaintance and perhaps invite you over...
- You're bad at lying, young man.
There are two kinds of people: those who need something from me...
and the rest, from whom I need something.
I don't need anything from you. Spit it out, what do you want?
- I came to ask you for a miracle. You see, I'm in love.
In love deeply and without hope. I'm in love!
But the subject of my love exists only in my imagination.
Her corporeal silhouette is a sculpture, but it's just cold marble.
Dear sir, if you could only perform a miracle!
- I do not perform miracles, I operate within the physical realm of nature.
I'm a materialist.
- That's what I mean, the materialization of sensual ideas.
Give life to my dream, your eminence!
Breathe life into her, as ancient Greek gods breathed life into Galatea!
- I'm sorry, sir.
Materialization of sensual ideas is the hardest task in the science of magic...
It requires expending immense amounts of energy.
- Take everything I have. My house, my estate!
- Riches no longer interest me, sir.
- Then I'm ready to give my own life!
You... you don't believe me?
I'll prove it to you! I'll prove it to you right now!
- The pistol is loaded.
- Excellent! My life is in your hands, I will shoot myself!
- No need for loud statements. They shake the air but make poor company.
- Help this young man, Giuseppe.
Can't you see, he truly is in love?
- Indeed? How do you know that, miss?
- Could you do this because I asked?
- They're coming!
They're coming!
- S'il vous plait, dear guests...
S'il vous plait...
Je vous prie...
Avec plaisir...
Good Lord... All the words got scared right out of my head.
Alexis!
They don't understand ours at all?
- They understand.
Margadon, please accept!
- There you go, sire.
- He must have enjoyed that, I'd say.
- Good man.
- Stole the salt-shaker. - Didn't even flinch.
- Uncle Stepan...
Their coachman looked at me through his lorgnette, what's with that?
- What do you think?
Poor eyesight, that's what.
- Poor dear.
- Ladies, gentlemen!
Here is the great master himself.
And this is his companion, Maria Ivanovna.
- Maria Ivanovna?
- And you said Italians have difficult names.
Welcome, dear guests!
Do come in. Make yourselves at home.
- Mr. Cagliostro!
I'd like to introduce myself.
I'm the local artist...
Zagosin, Modest Timofeyevich.
It has been my dream to paint your portrait.
- Later, sir. Later.
- Stepan!
The guests' carriage broke down.
- I see that, master. The axle is shot.
Spokes should be changed, too. - How much time to fix?
- A day or so.
- What about two days?
- Could make it two days.
- What about five?
- Well...
With a bit of effort...
could do it in five.
- What about ten?
- These are odd requests, master.
I can't do it alone in ten days. I'll need an extra hand...
Homo sapiens.
- Take all the help you need, but not earlier than that.
- Odd bunch, huh?
Are they staying for long?
- That would be up to me.
- "Alen nobi, nostra ales."
Which means...
"If one man put it together, the other can always take it apart."
And why exactly do they hook them like that?
Come on, English junk!
All is up to me here.
- Thank you for the feast, it was sumptuous.
- You barely ate anything, your eminence!
- He who eats little lives long...
for with a fork and knife we dig our own graves.
- That's clever.
- However, I can read plenty of questions in your faces.
- There are so many things, Count...
- There are so many falsehoods about me that I'm tired of disproving them.
Especially since my biography is both simple and common.
I was born in Mesopotamia, two thousand one hundred twenty five years ago.
You are probably surprised by such ancient date of my birth?
- No, not surprised.
We once had a records clerk in our district...
He marked the birth year in the passports with only one digit.
Tried to save on the ink, you see.
Then things came out, he got jailed...
But the passports were left as they were.
Official records, after all.
Merchant Yefimtsev was registered as born in the year 3...
Anno Domini...
Kulikov, 2 AD.
Kutyakin, 1 AD.
- Yeah...
People live long around here.
- That's not an appropriate analogy.
It's not by my "passport," as you say...
but by my own life that I was born two thousand years ago.
Mount Vesuvius erupted in the very year and hour of my birth.
Probably due to this remarkable coincidence...
part of the volcano's energy was transferred to me.
- I hope this doesn't also happen in your district?
- Not as far as lighting up a pipe from a finger, I won't lie.
We have had a few cases of sparks from the eyes, though.
Ask Mr. Zagosin here, if you must.
Last year one of his men fell off a cart, head right on the drive shaft.
Quite the fireworks, I must say!
- Burnt all the hay!
Not just any hay -- pure clover!
- Oh, please...
"pure clover..."
Your whole place is infested with sedge and burdock.
- What are you saying, Fedosiya Ivanovna!
A cart of my hay costs 10 roubles.
- It may cost that, yes, but nobody's buying it!
Your hay is totally worthless.
Except, perhaps, that it burns well.
- Indeed, Count...
If you're looking to buy some hay...
buy it from Fedosiya Ivanovna, you won't regret it.
- Oh, yeah, my hay is very good.
- My god, what are you talking about, ladies and gentlemen!
What grave misunderstanding.
Our guest talks about completely different phenomena!
- I see I'm surrounded by sceptics, therefore let's get back to supper.
You see this fork? - And?
- Would you like me to eat it?
- We'd be much obliged.
- My goodness, Count!
I'd be disgraced as a hostess.
It's time for desert!
Fimka! Don't just stand there!
Serve the blanchemange with kissel!
- That was from the heart.
Impressive.
Quite worthy of admiration.
I've had to deal with swallowed spoons in my practice, no denying that...
But that, a sharp object during supper, instead of desert...
Impressive.
For that, we can offer our sincere and heartfelt gratitude.
Unless, of course...
If in addition to iron utensils you could also go for a bit of porcelain...
Then, what can I say, we'd be lost for words.
- Thank you, sir, but I'm full.
Time to talk business.
Well, where is your ideal, Mr. Fedyashev? Show it to us!
- This way, please!
- Mr. Cagliostro! What about the portrait?
- The portrait can wait, my good man, let him deal with the sculpture first.
- Bravo, sir, I like your taste. You recognize her, Margadon?
- Naturlich, excellence. Femina top notch.
- Fates allowed me to gaze on these features more than once before.
Long ago she was known as Helen of Troy.
- Helen?
- Later as Beatrice.
- Beatrice!
- Praskovya was her name.
She was modelled from Praskovya Tulupova.
- Doesn't matter who she was modelled from.
True artist sculpts not from the model, but from his own imagination.
I hope you understand that, sir, and don't expect precise resemblance.
- Well, of course, but on the other hand I hoped she would still look like that.
- Materialization of sensual ideas visually fulfils the fantasies.
It only preserves the basic outlines of the original.
Has it been dropped?
- I warned not to touch it!
I warned!
- Well, you see, it was in a park. I thought the rain, pigeons...
- The ideal should never be removed from its soil.
It interferes with the magnetic resonances.
- Now I can't even predict what she'll look like.
This...
...Laura of yours.
- Laura?
Not the Laura praised by the great Petrarch?
- Yes, she once was that.
She visited this world under many different names.
Juliette, Laura...
Don't even know what she'll call herself now.
- Perhaps, Maria?
You wouldn't object, miss?
Miss!
Do you object?
- Why not, I would be honoured.
If not me, then at least my name will serve someone's love.
- You don't object, then. And you, sir? Do you object?
And you, madam, what do you say?
- It's a wonderful name.
I would gladly accept the outward appearance of your escort as well...
- I must disappoint you, my friends.
I just had a vision.
Galatea's name will be Lorenza.
- I knew it. Now please, ladies and gentlemen...
- Please pardon my insolence...
- What insolence?
- I thought to give my ideal your features and said so publicly.
- You changed your mind, then?
- Oh, no, Maria Ivanovna, I would be more than happy...
But I felt that I overstepped the rules of courtesy.
And I think that Mr. Count is upset at me, as well.
- Ah, so these flowers are for him, then?
- N-n-no.
Please, Maria Ivanovna!
Please...
Maria Ivanovna...
- You are a puzzling man, Aleksey Alekseyevich.
You have such a complicated way of saying things.
And to think that you live in the country among simple, common folk.
Yet you dream of incorporeal ideals.
- But isn't that how the great Petrarch dreamt of his Laura?
- Not true.
Petrarch loved a regular woman...
Who also happened to live next door to him.
It's only later that he raised her ideal to celestial heights.
You're going backwards about it, sir.
Trickery and magnetism won't earn you love and happiness.
- Then tell me how to earn them!
- I do not know.
If I knew that, I'd be happy myself.
- I'm losing my touch!
Supper's done, they bring mushrooms.
After mushrooms, crepes. Terrifying place!
Nobody locks their doors.
Yesterday I asked the housekeeper for 3 quid, and the bugger gave them to me.
Didn't even ask when I'll give them back.
- Would you like a bite to eat?
- What do you call this?
- Pancakes.
- Pancake-hey...
Pancake-ho...
To the grandma's house we go.
Say, sweetheart.
Have you got a grandma? - Nope.
- Orphan then, eh? Come closer.
Do you want some big and wholesome love?
- Who wouldn't want that?
- Then come to the haystacks after it gets dark.
Will you come?
- Why not, I shall come.
But don't forget to come, too, then.
Because this sir also invited me...
But then got cold feet.
- She won't come alone, she'll come with the smith.
- Smith? What smith?
- That's my uncle, Stepan Stepanovich.
He's our smith, and like a father to me.
- And why do we need a smith?
No, we don't need a smith. What am I, a horse? Why a smith?
- For the blessing. You're going to propose, aren't you?
- Woah, all right, you're free to go. Can't you see we're playing here?
- Sir, sir! You're not holding the bat right.
Hold it like this, elbow to the side, gently...
- This is humiliating, Jacob. Your turn, prince.
- I dream of painting your portrait! Do you have a moment free for me?
- I don't have free moments!
- Hello, boys! - Why did you come?
Someone could have seen you!
Did you get my memo?
[Mock Italian]
- What the hell?
You abandon me in St-Petersburg...
Police is chasing after me...
Then I have to rush alone across half the country, choking on road dust...
And when I get here, I'm apparently not even allowed to show my face!
I'm stinky tired of that! - That's "sick and tired."
Just pointing out that it's "sick and tired."
- You must not show up until I say you can!
- I know why you're hiding me, it's another "materialization!"
More white paint and running around in my undies.
I've had enough!
- Margadon!
- I'm all ears, monsignor.
- Did you tell her?
- No, master, I was numb like a fish.
- Liar. - No.
- And for that you'll be a fish. - No!
- Ugly and slimy.
- Yes, but you promised a cat...
- Not worthy.
- Leave him alone, Jose!
- Mama...
- Mia!
- Right.
- It's not his fault. I learned to read minds.
We are all slowly learning your art, Jose.
But we are all troubled by the same thought: why the hell are we doing it?
When you materialize in a big city for some prince or noble, that's one thing.
But here, in the country...
No money and no fame.
Is this all just to amuse your Russian mademoiselle?
- Did you just think that?
Yes or no?
- Yes. No!
Whatever the consequences...
Yes, that was my thought.
- And yours, too, Jacob?
- No, sir, no.
As you know, all my thoughts are far in the future.
But, to be honest, if someone in the House of Lords ever asks me...
"Why, prince, did you spend so much time near Smolensk?"
I wouldn't know what to tell them.
- A mutiny, then?
I've been warned that spending time in Russia poorly affects immature minds.
Worthless, wretched fools.
I could incinerate you, turn you into dust...
But I won't waste my magical powers on you.
- Don't waste...
- You're not worth it.
I'll do something different.
I'll turn you over to the police.
- Turn us to what?
- To the police.
They will publicly flog you like hobos...
and exile you to Siberia to shovel snow.
- All of it? - Yes.
Plenty of snow there.
Giddy up!
- Why is he threatening me?
What's the point, I've already got three life sentences.
And how is he talking to you?
You, the man who reached the heights of London's depths!
Are you still planning to be a prince or not?
- "Yes, it is!"
- You're magicking love again, Giuseppe?
- What is love for a woman compared to the love of truth.
The truth is that people are unhappy. Heaven turned its face from us.
I'm alone in this world...
who makes people happy.
They want riches, I cook them gold.
They want to know their fate -- I foretell the future.
- But it's all a lie.
- People want to be lied to, remember that.
Everyone lies to everyone else, but their lies are too primitive.
I alone turned lies into a fine art, which is how I got famous.
But once I got past that point...
I had another revelation.
It's as if someone high above...
has decided to trick me.
You know...
I am unable to evoke love.
Fear...
admiration, respect...
these I can easily evoke in others, but love...
Alas!
- You must not be seen by anyone.
- It's unfair.
Why uncover the mysteries of complex things if I can't explain simple ones.
I want to come up with a formula of love.
- You're insane.
Love is a divine feeling.
- That's a common misconception.
Fire was divine, too, until Prometheus stole it.
Now we use it to boil water.
I'll do the same with love.
Not for me -- for everyone else.
People will stop suffering and will finally be happy.
- All of them?
- Yes, every one!
- And if someone doesn't want to live happy?
- Then they will die.
All wishes must come true.
- More and more I think of transformation.
- Of?
- Everything, including love.
This formula has it all.
First acquaintance...
attraction, jealousy, despair...
All sides and facets.
I'll take this girl through the entire labyrinth.
Yes.
If at the end I get the flame of passion...
that means not gods set it aflame, but men.
And therefore...
we're equals!
- So that's who you are competing with?
- Oh yes.
Yes, other competitors are of no interest to me.
Speaking of competitors...
You must seduce this youthful dreamer.
He's getting in the way and interfering with calculations.
- Very well, Jose.
I'll do anything you want.
Charm...
seduce...
kill...
Anything to ease your suffering.
- So, it's agreed? - Yes, prince!
- I present the ultimatum... - Yes!
And I come in from behind.
Watch out, Jose!
- What a night, Jose!
Include it into your formula!
If you're set on making everyone happy, then start with me!
- Italians...
- And if we're not leaving tomorrow, I'll flee.
- You're not afraid? - Oh, I've plenty of courage to flee.
- Hi there, folks!
- Greetings!
- Carriage taken care of?
- Of course! Come in.
Here is your baby.
- That's our carriage?
- Another week, and it will be as good as new.
"Labor ist est ipse voluptas."
Which means "labour in and of itself is pleasure."
- Tell me, bastard...
Are you learning Latin here instead of doing real work?
- "Liberation est perpetuum mobile."
- Jacob, we're never getting out of here.
We're going to die here.
I get it now, Jacob.
All outsiders who come to Russia will meet their doom near Smolensk.
- Sir...
Is it true that your master is 2000 years old?
- I can't say for sure, my lady.
I can only tell you that during the 200 years that I've served him...
he hasn't changed one bit.
- Uncle Stepan, won't you help them?
It's bad to make fun of the wretched, but just look at them...
They're like slaves or something...
probably eat nothing but fish.
And sing so pitifully.
- My word...
must they do this every night?
- They'll be gone soon.
- Can't sleep, Alyosha?
- No.
Getting ready.
- Listen what the great poet says when bidding adieu...
to the one in his heart...
- Don't want to hear it.
- Why not? - Don't like it.
- What do you mean, it's the great Petrarch!
- Who cares.
- About Petrarch? - About Petrarch.
Petrarch had his own auntie, and worrying about him was her job.
But you, you're my only nephew and here's what I have to say...
If you're a living being, then love a living being.
And don't dream up some kind of "incorporeal dream," god forbid.
And what sort of woman will that wizard create for you?
It's not munching forks, now, is it?
- Oh, auntie... Don't you start, I'm worried myself.
- Then refuse!
Refuse! Say you've changed your mind!
- I'd embarrass myself, auntie!
To start this whole business and then chicken out?
That's not very manly!
Here's what I've decided...
I'll be thinking about Maria during materialization.
I'll think of her face...
her eyes, shoulders... hands...
...and so on.
- Sweetie pie...
What's to think about when all that is walking right next to you, ready made?
- What are you saying, auntie?
You taught me yourself not to covet what belongs to others.
- Who cares about the stupid things I said?
Besides, when you're in love you don't pay attention to what others say.
- What are you saying? I should steal her from Mr. Count?
- And why not?
Steal her!
You, Alyosha, are used for everything to be available whenever you want it.
You came up with this ideal...
...so someone ought to bring it to you on a silver tray!
And reading other people's poems, that's not very tough either!
That Petrarch of yours?
He probably put his Laura on his horse, and whoosh...
that's the last anyone's seen of them!
- Auntie...
Something like that must have happened to you, admit it!
- If it had, I wouldn't be an old spinster, now, would I?
There was a dreamer like you, once...
A powerful man, he was...
Spent all his power on poetry...
...ruined my life.
Go to her, Alyosha.
She's waiting, trust me.
- She told you that?
- My goodness, you're such a dope.
Nobody says such things outright...
You say it with silence and meaningful sighs.
I passed by her room just now...
It was really quiet inside.
That's a true sign.
Go to her, Alyosha.
Steal her!
- Maria Ivanovna!
You know... how much... I love you...
o marvellous creation.
I love your tender image...
your shy and gentle glance.
Your still and pale demeanour...
in silent conversation...
tells my entire being...
so much, so much at once.
- Can't sleep?
- Yes, I...
...enjoy riding at dawn.
- On two horses at once?
You don't have enough buttocks.
You, sir...
should get ready for the materialization of your ideal, not horse around.
- Listen, Mr. Count, I thought about it last night...
my soul disposition has changed!
- Oh yeah? Come!
I already woke up the energy of the elements...
I've already co-opted the powers of the magnetic substances...
You think we're playing games here, sir?
The signs of the Zodiac...
the 24 symbols of the Cabala...
the key, the doorway, and the seven spheres...
It's all breathing and it's all ready.
- Oh god, woe is to me!
What should I do, Mr. Cagliostro?
I no longer dream of her, I fell in love with another!
- Another?
Fell in love?
When did you have time?
- Who cares when... Often one glance is enough to send your world tumbling.
You know how it happens!
You know how love comes about!
- I don't know and I don't care.
You're just mad. Mad!
You'll get what you wished for, along with the overall likeness.
- To hell this likeness!
I can no longer stand it!
If you are unwilling to destroy this statue, then I'll do it myself!
- And now go to her.
Your dream awaits you, impatiently.
- Oh, I get it.
You, sir, are a damned liar.
I'll kill you!
My good sir!
You are without honour!
- Are you challenging me? - Yes!
- Gentlemen...
Last chance to resolve this peacefully.
- Merci, but that is impossible.
- Then let's duel!
- Why the delay, sir?
- You're the guest, you're supposed to shoot first.
- Awful customs!
Where didn't we duel? France, Holland, anywhere!..
Usually quick and painless.
Like among civilized men: one shot and they're dead.
- Let's even out the odds. Margadon!
Load only one gun.
- Yes, master!
Only one, coming up!
- Pick one, your excellence. - It's for our host to choose.
Let fate herself become our arbiter.
I hope shooting yourself in front of a guest doesn't upset your customs?
- Scared?
- Scared.
- Oh, yes, please don't tell the auntie about the duel.
Just tell her...
that Alyosha failed to materialize... and that's the end of it.
Same to Maria.
I must say, Count, I'm thankful for what you've done.
Yes. You promised to make my dream come true...
And you did.
And now...
I won't regret dying for her.
Farewell...
Maria Ivanovna, my dream!
- Congratulations.
- Please, Mr. Count! We got carried away, let's end this. I forgive you!
- God may forgive. That's his job, not yours.
My shot, sir.
Please don't interfere!
- Stop!
Don't do it!
I... love you!
Truly!
Your...
Your experiment was a success!
I...
I fell in love with you, and I'm ready to follow you to the end of the world!
You are...
smart...
gentle...
and unhappy, above all!
You can't survive without me!
- Wh... What about me?
- Such is life, Alyosha!
We'll all suffer!
Suffering perfects the soul!
Take my Daddy!
Daddy says that knowing nothing but happiness is unbecoming!
- I don't give a damn what your Daddy says!
I don't care to live without you! Give me your gun, Count!
- No, don't give it to him! - Give it to me!
- If you die, I won't live either!
I'll stop my heart, Mr. Count taught me how!
- My god, why did I ever meet you?
It's all that damned statue!
- No, Alyosha, no! The statue has nothing to do with it!
She's a wretched woman herself, she's in love with the Count.
- Don't worry, my friends...
I'll leave you alone in a moment and then you'll be free to...
continue your conjugal spat.
I am thankful to you, too.
You helped me...
to understand a very important thing.
Apparently, in love...
the most important thing...
is when you are ready, without even questioning it...
...to give up your life for another.
I'd like try how that works.
How terrible it is, that I'm not afraid to die.
It's probably because Cagliostro is already dead.
Dead are his feelings and his desires.
Only his mind is left.
Feeble human mind...
that imagined that it is alone in the universe and that all is permitted.
The mind that cast into doubt...
all laws of creation...
and decided to establish its own.
It is now asking me for one last favour.
It desires freedom.
Margadon!
You should have loaded one of them.
- You are a dishonest man, Margadon! - Of course.
If I were an honest man, do you know how many people would be dead by now?
The horror!
- We had a similar case in our district.
I think you of all people should find that quite interesting.
A certain landlord Kuzyakin tried to shoot himself...
- Santa Maria, where are you?
- No!
- I'll finish then, shall I?
A certain landlord Kuzyakin tried to shoot himself.
Put a gun to his forehead...
pulled a trigger... misfire!
pulled again... another misfire!
Figured it wasn't in the cards.
And indeed! He sold the gun, then...
And it was valuable, with gems and such...
So, he sold it...
And, to celebrate it, went drinking.
Then, while drunk, fell into a pile of snow...
and froze to death.
- He means to say, that...
Everyone has their time set on this Earth, and you shouldn't hurry it.
- Absolutely right.
Especially since your health is very much upset by your errant life style.
The liver is listless...
the heart is twitchy.
How you managed 2000 years with it, I have no idea.
Time to wrap up all these idiosyncrasies, my good fellow.
Munching forks, setting fingers on fire...
you and I are getting too old for that.
And take care around the ladies, too.
No matter whether they are made of marble or not...
Our job is simple...
to sit on the porch and enjoy the sunshine.
- You should try some medicinal herbs, too!
Infusions of chamomile, or mint...
Do you have mint in Italy?
- Where would they get mint in Italy?
I saw Italy on a map once -- looks like a boot, and that's about it.
- And here's our Galatea!
Come see Mr. Count.
Don't be afraid.
- Is he bad?
- No.
He's good.
- Good?
- To the living, all is good.
- We told all our neighbours that the materialization was a success, Count.
To keep your reputation undamaged.
We said...
Before it was a sculpture...
and now it's Maria Ivanovna.
Many actually believe that.
- Where is Margadon going?
- I sent him to the city.
They say some captain is looking for you, from Prince Potemkin...
I figured I'd send him there to find out what that's all about.
Margadon! Come up!
- Mr. Count, I'd like you to stay for a few more days...
For the betrothal on Sunday.
I proposed to Maria Ivanovna.
- Will you wait?
I told you I can't make any decisions without my Daddy.
- Could you help us, Mr. Count? You're our only hope.
Maria Ivanovna says you have an astral link with him...
Could you ask for his blessing? I beg you!
- Alyosha!
Alyosha, Mr. Count has other things on his mind right now.
- No, no he doesn't.
Well, what does Daddy have to say?
Daddy agrees!
- You were trying to abandon your master?
- I thought my master was dead, and dead have no need of servants.
You always played with lives of others, but not with your own!
The police is after us!
And you're lying there in a robe thinking of god knows what!
- The chase is on?
- On, your majesty.
- That is excellent.
When you're fleeing the chase, you no longer worry about anything else.
Time should be filled with events.
Then it flies by unnoticed.
- Jacob!
[Dialogue in mock Italian.]
- Jacob, sweetie...
Don't go...
Stay here, eagle.
Here you'd be a prince in no time.
And I'd make you a baby...
And teach it to sing...
- I'll be back for you.
I'll be definitely back...
for you...
except different.
No, really!
I swear to god!
Very different!
- I have an order to arrest Mr. Cagliostro.
- Grandpa!
- Grandpa Cagliostro, is that true that you'll bring my grandma back to life?
- Who are you?
- Praskovya Tulupova!
- Mr. Cagliostro!
Pardon me... but are you very busy right now?
- In the year 1791...
Giuseppe Cagliostro returned to his home town of Rome.
Where he unexpectedly turned himself in to the police.
The judge sentenced him to life in prison.
Lorenza visited him there.
Shortly before his death, she passed him a painting by an unknown artist...
which arrived from Russia.
Who was depicted in that painting...
and what those people meant in the life of the great Cagliostro...
for the historians...
forever remained a mystery.
Cast:
Cagliostro: Nodar Mgaloblishvili
Maria: Yelena Valyushkina
Aleksey: Aleksandr Mikhaylov
Lorenza: Yelena Aminova
Jacob: Aleksandr Abdulov
Margadon: Semyon Farada
Fedosiya Ivanovna: Tatyana Peltser
Fimka: Aleksandra Zakharova
Doctor: Leonid Bronevoy
Stepan: Nikolay Skorobogatov
Also: V.Cherkasova, M.Romashina, A.Kharitonova, A.Terekhina
A.Frolovtseva, G.Vsevolodov, V.Makhmutov, V.Tkalich, G.Kramerov
V.Gorbunchikov, V.Myshkin, Anya Andriyanova
Ballet group: N.Kulomzina, Ye.Afanasyeva, I.Krivichenkova
S.Savelyev, I.Bekhtemirov, A.Zhivlyuk, K.Geraskin
B.Maryamov, M.Kudryavtsev Soloist: Aleksandr Kulomzin
Screenplay: Grigoriy Gorin
Producer: Mark Zakharov
Cinematographer: Vladimir Nakhabtsev
Art director: Viktor Yushin
Composer: Gennadiy Gladkov
Sound: Yuriy Rabinovich
Song lyrics: Yulia Mikhaylova
Choreography: Svetlana Voskresenskaya
State Philharmonic Orchestra for Cinematography
Conductor: S.Skripka
Director: Yu.Daniyalov
Camera: Yu.Rayskiy, N.Fudim
Costumes: N.Moneva
Editing: V.Kulagina
Makeup: O.Sergeyeva
Special effects:
Camera: G.Zaytsev
Director: A.Klimenko
Magic tricks: A.Shag-Novozhilov
Gaffer: S.Shebeko
Assistant: L.Merkulova
Script editor: I.Naumova
Score editor: M.Blank
Film director: Aleksandra Demidova
The End. (C) 1984 by USSR State TV and Radio
Subtitles by subs.mricon.com (cc) by-sa 3.0, 2011, Montreal