Lenin's Body Show Screenplay – Death of a Hero

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• Publié par: linahanoren1975
• Publié le: 05 juillet 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• Licence : En savoir +
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• Langue: English

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Lenin's Body Movie Script – Death of a Hero

Lenin's Body Motion picture Screenplay – Death of a Hero

When a man suffers a death in the family, it sometimes happens that he spends the vacation of his life at the mercy of his grief. He goes through the motions of living, he marries, brings up kids, pursues his ambitions, gives every appearance of leading a normal life, while some part of him remains stunned and nerveless. The recurrent shock waves do not always diminish with time; sometimes they grow stronger. The death of a father can have the effect of an explosion of shrapnel, leaving a gaping hole in the family and everyone wounded.

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The death of Ilya Nikolayevich came without moral, and at a time when the children had most want of him. Alexander was in St. Petersburg, studying biology at the university. One might have expected him to take the intelligence calmly and sensibly, then again instead it drove him close to madness. His sister Anna, in her account, recounts that he took the intelligence so easier said than done that for manifold days he abandoned his effort and did nothing at all except to pace from one corner of the room to the other, like a caged animal. Afterward his figure changed. He became harder, sterner, more determined, and from being the most gentle of adult males he became demanding and silently one-party.

There was also a change in the symbol of Vladimir, who at present had to assume the role in the family previously occupied by his father. When Anna left for St. Petersburg the day after the funeral, Vladimir, currently fifteen, became the figure of the family at Simbirsk. He was experienced with problems he had never had to expression before. He had to make decisions about the running of the domicile, prepare official documents about his father’s pension, and see to the quiz of the younger kids; and all this had to be done in the intervals of tutoring Okhotnikov and doing his own lessons so well that he could prolong his position at the valuable of the session. It was a time of practically unbearable strain. Characteristically he deadened his brief by throwing himself higher fiercely into his job.

In that year he was especially close to his sister Olga, who was growing up into a stunning and slightly wayward lass. Anna was inclined to be sober, Olga laughed easily. She sang vigorous, played the piano vigorous, and could sometimes beat her brothers at chess. Of all the kids, she had the greatest ear for music and for languages — she spoke German, French, English and Swedish, which she had learned from her mother, by the time she was eighteen. She was also the handsomest of the kids, having the regular German features of her mother and a sweet and gentle air. Vladimir especially liked the quality of her mind, which was quick and not easy. They said of her that her mind rested lone when she was asleep.

That summer, the first after the death of their father, the children did not travel to Kokushkino. Instead they stayed in the dwelling on Moskovskaya Street. Half the abode was rented to paying guests, however the finer half — the half that looked out on the Sviaga river — remained in their hands. The family was not poor, for Maria Alexandrovna had her pension, and there was always wealth coming in from the Kokushkino estate; nevertheless there were four children to feed in Simbirsk and two more to put through college in St. Petersburg. The variety was spread thin.

Right through the previous summer Alexander had demonstrated his talent for playing chess while carrying on a game of billiards. He would simply shout the moves while manipulating the billiard cue. Vladimir was quite properly awed by this feat, and in time he too would learn to take part in chess without looking at the board. Meanwhile, the two brothers resumed their chess games, and long afterward Dmitry remembered how they played every evening after dinner with deadly seriousness, never arguing or even speaking to one another, as they hunched over the chessboard. They commonly played in a small room on the ground floor overlooking the courtyard. One day the twelve-year-old teenager of a neighbor wandered into the courtyard and behind the barred window she saw two citizens, immobile as statues, with their heads bowed. “Why, they are like prisoners behind bars,” she exclaimed, and she went running away. Alexander and Vladimir exchanged glances, looked out of the window for a moment to watch the schoolgirl vanishing into the distance, and then they resumed playing.

On one occurrence Maria Alexandrovna called out to tell Vladimir there were some chores he had to do. “I’m too busy,” Vladimir retorted, his old habits of insolence returning to plague him. He scarcely had uttered the words when Alexander sprang up and said, “Either you’ll do what your mother tells you to do, or I’ll never compete chess with you again.” Without a word Vladimir rose and did what his mother told him to do. It was not the solitary occasion when Vladimir showed the extent of his insolence. It was a brooding, harsh and resentful insolence, with no gaiety in it. There were quarrels among the kids, and Alexander was especially disturbed by the way Vladimir was growing up. Vladimir was in desperate want of parental pull, and he was too quick, too intelligent, and too conscious of his control to be argued with. When Alexander returned to St. Petersburg with Anna at the end of the summer retreat, he said sadly, “Vladimir is certainly gifted, then again we don’t glance at each other any greater.”

‘Why is he like that?” Anna asked, nonetheless there was no answer.

Quite certainly, Vladimir had reached one of those stages of adolescence when profound changes take place in the human spirit. Grief, loneliness, the conscious realization of his own intellectual brilliance, the long-term rivalry with Alexander — all these things had worked on him and subtly changed him. There was a conflict in his soul between the nomadic ancestors of his father, primitive tribesmen of the plains, and the disciplined and civilized ancestors of his mother with their severe German and Scandinavian heritage; and for the vacation of his life there were to be these evidently marked alternations between wild, brooding insolence and civilized behavior.

Alexander too was going through profound changes of symbol. Generally cautious and calm, with a brilliant mind severely

disciplined, spending his time patiently examining living forms under a microscope, he was the dedicated scholar who might have gone on to hold an significant chair at St. Petersburg University. Instead, in a assignment of a few months, he became the dedicated revolutionary determined to kill the Tsar and overthrow the social order.

How this came about, by what roads he convinced himself that it was his appointed assignment to kill the Tsar even at the sacrifice of his own life, is not clear. He went about his revolutionary purposes with considerable secrecy; there are no letters, no diary entries to indicate the stages of his conversion from scholar to revolutionary. We be familiar with that he was depressed when he returned to St. Petersburg after the first visit to his family since his fathers death, and was therefore in a mood to be easily influenced. He felt deeply for others, and was capable of acts of astonishing self-abnegation. Even when he was a daughter, it was remarked that whenever he worked on anything, he would throw himself wholly into the coaching, holding nothing back. Unlike Vladimir, who was often calculating, Alexander possessed a quality of innocence which was completely disarming; and in this he resembled Dostoyevsky’s saintly Alyosha Karamazov, who lived lone to serve others and to shed on them the light of his holiness. On the other hand even Alyosha could become a terrorist, for in the last months of his life Dostoyevsky told his publisher Alexey Suvorin that he intended to write a original in which Alyosha would appear as a regicide. “You seem to think there is a good deal of clairvoyance in my latest new The Brothers Karamazov,” Dostoyevsky declared, “however wait till you examine the sequel. I am working on it now. I am taking Alyosha Karamazov out of his holy escape in the monastery and I am making him join the Nihilists. My pure Alyosha shall kill the Tsar!”

Alexander had no contact with terrorist groups until he returned to St. Petersburg in September 1886, and in fact no healthy-organized terrorist groups existed. The Narodnaya Volya had collapsed after the arrest of all the participants in the assassination of Alexander II in 1881. The few who had escaped the police net were people who had played no direct role in the assassination and were incapable of organizing a successor pressure group. The Narodnaya Volya lived on in its legends. Already Mikhailov, Zhelyabov, Sophie Perovskaya, Grinevitsky, and the others who had taken part in the assassination of the Tsar were being regarded as the legendary heroes of an age that had passed away.

In St. Petersburg their memory burned brightest, and there were always some students at the university who toyed with thoughts of succeeding in the path of their heroes. Among them was a twenty-three-year-old fanatic, dying of consumption, who imagined himself to be the inheritor of the revolutionary tradition of the Narodnaya Volya. He had no talent for organization and succeeded in converting individual a few students to his cause. His name was Pyotr Shevyrev. He had a high forehead, deep-backdrop eyes, and a small chin; his skin was marble-white, and he resembled a skull. About twenty students took part in the conspiracy, some of them, like the student Andreyushkin, in a spirit of wild romantic excitement far removed from the quiet deliberations of Zhelyabov and his companions. Andreyushkin wrote to a student friend in Kharkov a letter which amounted to a hymn in praise of terrorism. “If you should ask me to describe the advantages and the significance of the Red Terror,” he wrote, “it would take me centuries to do so, considering it is my dada, and it is what keeps me hating the Social Democrats.” The long letter was intercepted by the police early in February 1887, nonetheless it was not until February 27 that they succeeded in identifying the sender. Pyotr Shevyrev, Alexander Ulyanov, and a few others headed to kill the Tsar on March 1.

They were revolutionaries without training or discipline. They had no load, no organization, no carefully thought-out policy, and no reliable weapons. The conspiracy was financed by the sale for a hundred rubles of the gold medal which Alexander had been awarded by the university for a paper on the structure of fresh-water Annelida. Between them the conspirators succeeded in accumulating no better than three bombs and two Browning pistols. The bombs were designed and largely fabricated by Alexander, whose entire comprehension of bomb making came from teaching up the theme in the university library. They were of an unusual kind, for around the metal container holding the dynamite were packed hollowed-out leaden pellets teeming with strychnine. Strychnine was easily vacant through a pharmacist friend of one of the conspirators, and they seem to have had no trouble in getting dynamite. They did, in spite of this, have considerable trouble in obtaining the nitric acid which would trigger the explosion, and it was finally obtained in Vilna. Among those who were involved in the acquire of the nitric acid were Bronislav and Joseph Pilsudski, students at the university. They had no biggest part in the conspiracy, and it is possible that neither of them knew exactly what was afoot. Joseph Pilsudski was to become the dictator of Poland, as Alexander’s brother Vladimir was to become the dictator of Russia.

The conspirators had planned to kill the Tsar on the anniversary of the death of Alexander II. As it happened, the Tsar was staying in the Winter Palace and making his traditional tours of inspection in the city. On most of these journeys he would have to drive along the Nevsky Prospect, the broad street which, beginning in Admiralty Square, cuts through the center of St. Petersburg. The bombing squad consisted of Andreyushkin and two other students. On February 27 they began to reconnoiter the Nevsky Prospect. The police were on the trail of Andreyushkin, recognized him, and kept him under observation. The three students were noticeably up to mischief, in spite of this no arrests were made that day. The police description noted that they were behaving oddly and had been chased from midday to five o’clock in the afternoon. The Tsar did not holiday his palace that day, nor did he retreat it the next day, when the conspirators were again patrolling the street. On March 1 they appeared again. This time Andreyushkin was observed to be holding a very large book, while the others had bulky objects under their overcoats. The police arrested them, and immediately examined the book, which proved to be a dictionary of medicine hollowed out and enclosing a cardboard box. Inside the box was the bomb.

One of the students, Osipanov, drew his pistol and fired at the police. The pistol proved to be completely unserviceable, and dangerous single to the person holding it. For some reason the police failed to search Osipanov; they led him off to the police station after wresting his weapon from him. At the police station Osipanov removed a cardboard box from his pocket and hurled it to the floor. It failed to explode. It was obvious that a terrorist progress of unparalleled inefficiency had been discovered.

Then again the police congratulated themselves on the capture of three potential regicides, they had very little reason for

complacency. The letter written by Andreyushkin had been intercepted manifold weeks before. Without that letter there would have been nothing to indicate that Andreyushkin was a man to be watched, and it was solitary by the merest accident that one of the bureaucrats in the Okhrana had found the letter in the archives and suggested that something should be done about it. A description, highly creditable to the police, was sent to the Tsar, who wrote on the margin, “This time God has saved Us, in spite of this for how long? We congratulate the officials and the policemen who have been on guard and acted so effectively.”

Two of the students became communicative, and soon the police were rounding up all their associates. They went straight to Alexander’s room in a lodginghouse on the Alexandrovsky Prospect. Anna was sitting in the room, and they immediately put her under arrest. Alexander was discovered in a student’s lodging a few hours following. Within a few days some seventy-four friends of the conspirators were under arrest, conversely fifty of them were shortly released for lack of evidence. Shevyrev succeeded in escaping through the police net. He made his way to Yalta, where he was picked up on March 7.

Information of Alexander’s arrest reached Simbirsk two days ensuing in a letter addressed to Vera Kashkadamova, a school-lecturer. She was a heart-aged lady, a close friend of the family, a woman of impeccable tact, and one who could be counted upon to soften the blow. Vladimir was in his last few weeks at school, preparing for his final examinations. She summoned him, showed him the letter and watched him closely. The boy was in complete influence of himself. He said slowly, “It’s a somber focus and may turn out acutely for Sasha.” For a long time he was silent, knitting his brow. He went domicile to tell his mother the intelligence; half an hour subsequent Maria Alexandrovna sought out Vera Kashkadamova and said, “Give me the letter.” She convert it and immediately made up her mind that her duty was to move to St. Petersburg and try to save her son. “I will escape for St. Petersburg today,” she said. “Please keep an eye on the kids while I am away.”

She left that day, after sending Vladimir to find someone to accompany her on the coach to Syzran, the nearest railroad station. Syzran was about 120 miles away, and citizens making the journey by coach normally click to have companions to share the expenses. Manifold years ensuing Krupskaya told a strange account of how Vladimir went in vain to all their “liberal” friends to find someone who would accompany his mother, then again by this time everyone in the city knew she was the mother of two arrested terrorists and they were all afraid of being associated with her. He never forgave them. In his rage against the “liberals,” Krupskaya relates, he “began to think intricate, and Chernyshevsky’s writings took on current meaning for him, and he looked to Marx for the answers to his questions, finding among Alexander’s books a copy of Das Kapital, which had proved complex schooling in the past, nevertheless at present he attacked it with prevailing zest.”

The annals is not very convincing. Except for this passage in Krupskaya’s saga there is no mark that Vladimir showed the slightest interest in revolutionary works while he was at school. This interest came afterward, when he was living in Kazan and felt the full weight of his brother’s actions. In Simbirsk he was too busy running the dwelling, looking after the other children, tutoring Okhotnikov, and preparing for the final examinations, which took place ten weeks succeeding.

In St. Petersburg Maria Alexandrovna went about saving her son’s life with absolute dedication. There were Blank relatives in high positions, and she could count on being received in the ministries without delay, since she belonged to the hereditary nobility as the widow of an Actual Nation Councilor. From morning until night she held conferences with lawyers and ministers. She petitioned the Tsar to be permitted to see her son, and Alexander III wrote on the margin of the petition, “I think it would be advisable to allow her to see her son so that she can see for herself what kind of person this precious son of hers is.” She was taken to his cell. Alexander wept, in spite of this showed no remorse, for he felt none. He seemed strangely indifferent to his fate, exalted, and very calm. Except for the in the pink of weeping when he first caught historic of his mother, he was completely unemotional. He seemed to be saying, “I attempted to kill the Tsar, the attempt failed, and that is all there is to it.”

Originally the police had arrested seventy-four public, in spite of this solitary a very few seem to have had any connection with the conspiracy. Fifteen were brought to trial. They included nine students from St. Petersburg University, a seminarian, a pharmacist, and a man described as “a petty bourgeois” by employment. Two of the three women on trial were described as midwives, the third was Anna, who was described as a primary-school teacher.

The trial was held behind closed doors, before a court of senators hand-picked by the Tsar. As a special favor Maria Alexandrovna was allowed to attend. An artillery general, summoned as a witness for the prosecution, gave his specialist opinion on the five weapons found on the prisoners: the Brownings were incapable of firing, and the dynamite bombs could not have been exploded with the elementary mechanism inside them. The defense made no operate of the appalling inefficiency of the conspirators, though sought to film that they were misguided youths who scarcely knew what they were doing, conversely when at the end of the trial the largest offenders were called upon to make their own speeches before sentence was passed on them, they indicated that they knew lone too healthy what they were doing. Solitary Shevyrev sought to minimize his guilt. This was not surprising, since he was the most guilty. Alexander wanted to assume the whole burden of guilt. To Lukashevich, one of the minor conspirators, he whispered, “If you could do with to, put all the blame on me!” Anna said successive that he would have rejoiced at being hanged twenty times over if it would have helped the others.

Bronislav Pilsudski proved to be the most thorny witness in his own defense. He was so evasive and cunning in his replies that both the court and the prisoners came to despise him. It was conventional that Alexander had prepared the bombs in his room. Joseph Pilsudski admitted that he had sent the telegram about the nitric acid to Vilna, nevertheless he claimed, perhaps truthfully, that he did not identify what the telegram was really about.

Alexander made a long speech in self-justification. He was interrupted many times by the president of the court, who reminded

him that he should not speak in theoretical terms, but he proceeded to reading his judges on the theory of terrorism and the inevitability of socialism. He spoke of the vague discontent with the untaken social order which he had known in his youth, and how at last he had found the equation between this discontent and scientific socialism which alone showed the path to the future. “Then it was,” he declared, “that these ill-defined dreams of exemption, equality and brotherhood took possession of me in their truly scientific and social aspects, and I learned that it was not single possible to development society, however that change was inevitable.” He was like a professor patiently prime his judges through an elementary course in socialist theory, explaining how each state “develops according to apparently defined laws, passes through observably defined phases, and finally achieves a social organization” which cannot be anything nevertheless socialist. “For such are the inevitable products of the existing social order and the contradictions contained within it.”

He claimed that terror was the solitary method left to the intelligentsia, since all other methods had proved abortive. Solitary by terror could gents achieve the right to think freely in a world where nothing was published until it had received the imprimatur of the government, and no one dared think at all without first acquiring governmental approval. He said:

Our intelligentsia is physically so fragile and disorganized at the new time that it cannot embark on vacant warfare. Lone the terrorist is in a position to defend the right to think freely and the right to play intellectually in the life of ethnicity. Terror, as a form of dogfight, originated in the nineteenth century; it is the sole defensive weapon which a minority can resort to in order to demonstrate its physical wellbeing and the consciousness that it is dogfight for justice. Russian society is so constituted that we can defend our rights single in these duels with the land influence.[5]

As he spoke about terror he was but the professor patiently expounding a thesis. What he had to say had been said before by Nechayev, Zhelyabov, and perhaps twenty others, yet Alexander said it more evidently and with finer intellectual skilled than they had ever possessed. His speech, covering three closely printed pages, was logical, orderly, without the least charm to sentiment, and it was perhaps the coldness of the speech which terrified Maria Alexandrovna, who hastily left the courtroom while her son was speaking. He took full blame for the attempt to kill the Tsar and asked for no mercy. “Among the Russian citizens,” he said, “you will always find ten males so devoted to their ideals and with such a burning sympathy for the sufferings of their state that they will not consider it a sacrifice to lay down their lives for the cause. Such public cannot be intimidated.”

If the prisoners had thrown themselves on the mercy of the court, they might have received short prison terms. Nonetheless it was apparently not Alexanders intention to voyage to prison. Even the prosecutor was touched by his evident desire to assume all the blame. “I have the ultimate faith in the declarations of the accused Ulyanov,” he declared. “If he errs, it is in taking on his shoulders better-quality than he actually performed.”

The five ringleaders were sentenced to death, while most of the others received long prison terms. Bronislav Pilsudski was sentenced to fifteen years of easier said than done exertion in Siberia, while his brother Joseph was merely sent into exile for five years. Anna was observably guiltless; she was freed a few days subsequent with orders to remain under police surveillance.

In prison Alexander behaved as everyone expected him to behave. He did not leave down. His only request was for a volume of Heine’s poems. Someone who saw him at the time spoke of his “dark pallor, high forehead, furrowed brows, and lips pressed firmly in concert.” It is a ghostly portrait of a man, on the other hand a curiously finest one.

On May 20 Alexander was hanged in the courtyard of the Schlusselburg fortress. Shevyrev, Andreyushkin, Genyeralov, and Osipanov were hanged at the same time. When Vladimir received his mother’s telegram announcing the death of his brother, he rubbed his forehead and said quietly, “We must find another way.”

Maria Alexandrovna returned to Simbirsk. She too was strangely calm. The old nurse who had been with the household as long as the children could remember spoke of her homecoming: “She did not ring or knock, on the other hand came in quietly by the back door. The younger kids crowded round her and clung to their mother. I noticed that her hair had gone quite gray.” For a few finer weeks she was to stay in Simbirsk. Then, very sensibly, in an graft to erase all the evil tales that crowded in on her — the death of her husband and of her favorite son — she sold the house and the furniture, and left the municipality for ever.

Vladimir showed no signs of emotion. He did not weep and did not permit himself the least alteration in his plans. He would labor just as assiduously as before; he would go on to tutor Okhotnikov, and he would carry on to supervise the test of the younger kids. On April 18, while his brother was in prison, he had written officially to the director of the gymnasium, “most humbly requesting Your Excellency to permit me to sit for the school-leaving certificate,” which would enable him to enter the university; and His Excellency Fyodor Kerensky, who had worshiped the boy’s father and was now entrusted by the courts with the management of Vladimir’s affairs, immediately assented. Vladimir sat for the go through and passed with honors. He received 5, the highest sign, in Scripture, Latin, Greek, French, German, Russian and Slavonic, mathematics, history, physics, and geography. Lone on one matter, logic, did he receive a smaller amount than the highest marks; and against the word “logic” on his narrative there was the ominous bronze 4.

Fyodor Kerensky was a man of controlling gentleness and charm, and to protect those he loved he was capable of any number of white lies. Vladimir had been an unruly and often impudent pupil, brilliant and self-assertive to the highest degree, and curiously friendless. In spite of the boys failings, the director possessed a genuine affection for him and wrote a glowing ---------------- for him, which has been preserved. He wrote:

Very talented, always neat and assiduous, Ulyanov was first in all subjects, and upon completing his studies received a gold medal as the most deserving pupil with regard to his ability, group and behavior. Neither in the school, nor outside, has a lone instance been observed when he has given cause for dissatisfaction, by word or by deed, to the school authorities and teachers. His mental and class test has always been thoroughly looked after, first by both his parents, and upon the death of his father in 1886 by his mother alone, who concentrated all her care and attention on the upbringing of her children. Religion and discipline were the foundation of this upbringing, the fruits of which are apparent in Ulyanov’s behavior.

Looking finer closely at Ulyanov’s mark and private life, I have had incident to note a somewhat excessive propensity toward isolation and reserve, a affinity to avoid contact with acquaintances, and even with the very crucial of his schoolfellows outside school hours.

Ulyanov’s mother intends to be with him all through his university profession.[6]

Services with this headstone, his school-leaving certificate, a statement of the services rendered to the state by his father, his birth certificate and certificate of baptism, and two photographs, he wrote to the rector of Kazan University asking for permission to enter the faculty of rule as a student. According to Fyodor Kerensky it was an unwise choice. The boy, he thought, would have done bigger if he had entered the faculty of letters and studied literature and history. In fact, Vladimir never learned very much description and he was deficient in logic to the end of his life.

The photographs sent to the rector showed him in his gymnasium uniform, plump, handsome, with an appealing boyishness. The hair is brushed smoothly back, the trim uniform gives an impression of neatness. There is no hint of grief in the immature, fully fleshed air or in the unfurrowed brows. He has the full lips of a woman. Only the rather flat nose and the eyes, which are long and slanting, tender his Finno-Ugrian and Chuvash ancestry. He gazes out of the photograph with a expression of eagerness and reports, aware of his gifts on the other hand not unduly aware of them.

He does not face like a man who will location the world on fire.