A Young Doctor's Notebook s02e02 Episode Script

1 - This is nice.
- Yes.
We have everything we need right here.
Mikha.
Are you all right? I'm amazing.
Don't tell me you found religion.
I have found peace.
Shut the door.
Well, what percent solution is that? But I haven't taken that much, some days I don't take it at all.
I need a quart of morphine.
It's as simple as that.
That is a lot of morphine.
Those Bolsheviks.
There's been a lot of fighting.
What are you doing? Other people need it more than he does.
There it is.
Thank you.
I hate morphine addicts.
Well, I he my friend isn't just a morphine There are pages missing.
I ate a lot of borsch.
October, November Bad borsch.
You wipe your ass with Christmas? Cocaine is the devil in a bottle.
I mean, yes, bliss and euphoria.
But for what? A minute? Two minutes? And then it's gone, lost without trace.
What is the point of having your own hospital if all you can find is cocaine.
Damn the Bolsheviks.
If I ever see them again I thought you're already in here.
Mikha have you tidied up? Yes, yes, I have.
And I put the small table over here under the window, because I think it makes the room less cramped.
I don't think it does.
There, there, it's just a table in the wrong place.
Are you sure there's not any morphine left? You know there isn't.
Anna, Anna.
What is it she's always saying? Leopold Leopoldovich always insisted on a well stocked dispensary.
What do you think that was? Go, go to her room.
Go search her room for morphine.
Tell her your pregnant.
But not that it's mine.
Go, go go go, now.
Mikha, there is no morphine.
Fine, I'll do it myself.
- Mikha, please.
- Let go.
Mikha.
Mikha.
Mikha.
What? I didn't mean to.
I'm going.
Thank you.
Not to Anna's bedroom.
To mine.
Good decision.
Not to go to Anna's room.
For one thing, she doesn't have any morphine.
For another, it would be impolite to call on a spinster at this late hour.
Specially with a giant cocaine erection.
Jesus.
- Do you have morphine? - No.
But, I think, I know what you need.
- Morphine.
- A hug.
Stay where you are.
- Come on.
- Don't touch me.
Well then it wouldn't be a hug, would it? I just want to be left alone.
I think we can come up with something to take your mind off this.
But I hate cocaine.
Wait, do you have cocaine? - Oh, no.
No.
No.
- Ah, yes.
Yes.
- That's better.
- No, it's not, it's worse.
It's much worse.
- No, this is good.
I can feel it.
- No.
That's the cocaine.
I feel terrible, didn't sleep at all last night.
It's all right, Mikha.
It was an accident.
Right, yes, it was.
Hmm When you fell on the table, accidentally.
I've just see more soldiers on the brow of the hill.
It's typical, I'd only just filled in the last pit.
I'll go get the flag.
They can't just turn up unannounced and expect medicines.
Let's hope they only have minor injuries.
Or be dead.
Honestly, these Bolsheviks, they come in here, they treat the place like a hotel, they've no respect for other people's property.
Ah yes, the flag.
A humble piece of fabric, yet one that crystallizes an ideology.
In this case, the deep red of the blood spilled in the fight for freedom.
Captures everything the Bolshevik stand for.
I must say, doctor, it shows tremendous courage to display this symbol with the White Guard moments from the door.
Courage, but tempered with cunning.
Yes, we have a door bell.
Not animals.
Forgive the intrusion.
You wouldn't happen to know where the hospital is, would you? I do, this is the hospital.
I'm the doctor.
Gosh.
And I'm the Feldsher.
Gosh.
But you can't have any morphine.
Because there is no more.
Wait.
Do you have morphine? No.
You're safe now, dear brother.
Feldsher, he's ready to go to the ward now.
Allow me.
Were you shot, too? Oh, no.
A chandelier fell on me.
I'm sorry, and you are? Please, you can call me Natasha.
Of course you are.
I'll try to remember it.
Now, if you'll excuse me.
Stay there, right, I'd better have a look at it.
Of course.
I once, cut a leg off a girl called Natasha.
Tell me she had more than a injured shoulder.
Oh, yes, yes, she fell in a lathe.
She was eight.
Still is, she's not dead.
And he's cut off three more legs since then.
How many legs did this girl have? No, no.
Three legs of three different people.
- It was a farmer - Doctor, it was a joke.
Yes, I know, obviously.
She wasn't a horse.
Although we did kill a horse, last week.
Chop, chop, stop fanning about.
Don't you know there's a war on? Now, no, stop right there.
This is a hospital, not a summer retreat.
And thank you again for taking us in.
I'm very grateful.
In fact, I insist you join us for a light supper.
Oh, no, no, no.
You're traveling, you need to eke out those rations.
Nonsense, I was able to pack a hamper.
What time? I don't even want a light supper.
- I'll tell you what I want.
- Yes.
Yes.
You have mentioned it, several times.
I just want a 1% solution.
And again.
Come on.
I'm not gonna stay.
And what am I gonna talk to them about? Syphilis? Yes, you're a spell-binding conversationalist.
We have nothing in common.
You both hate the Bolsheviks.
Although for different reasons.
Will you get off, it's fine.
No.
You listen to me.
I can't let you run yourself down like this.
Right now all you can think about is morphine.
You have to realize there's so much more to you than just morphine.
You're a doctor.
You scored 15 fives in the state exam.
And you have passions, you like to write.
You feel such a release.
When I think of my novel, well, it's not really a novel.
But when I talking about my play Play? Yes, you love the theatre.
Remember? At the Moscow State University of Medicine and Dentistry you wrote a satirical review.
Yes, of the Moscow Quacks.
He must be bonkers.
Yes, I am, Doctor Bonkers.
Come on, it'll be fun.
- I thought I saw a balalaika.
- Dear God.
And you don't want to let Pelageya down? She's going to wear going out dress.
She's made it herself.
Smell nice.
Oh, thank you, but, that's the horse soup.
He went into town and purchased the most unusual item, an item of clothing, a most dazzling pair of trousers.
So dazzling he had to I'd call it a small hamper.
- Oh, marvelous anecdote.
- Wait, there's more.
She cracked her skull open, on a gate post and died of a brain contusion.
- Sad.
- Hmm.
Yes.
Once again, thank you for your kindness.
I haven't felt such warmth, since since I sit and watched the Bolsheviks burned down my childhood home.
Please, you must be ravenous.
- Colonel, the wine.
- Yes, wine.
I'm told you made this splendid hairpiece out of a dead horse.
Indeed.
- And the glue? - Nothing goes to waste.
Matron, please, it is a buffet.
Help yourself.
Thank you.
Yes, I do know what a buffet is.
I would often put on a magnificent spread for Leopold Leopoldovich.
Buffet.
Alexander Blok, the Mask of Snow.
Oh, you know Blok? Well, a little.
Same.
I mean, just to say hello to at parties.
Natasha, forever indebted, Alexander.
This is exactly what you need.
Good company, and a glass of wine.
Who invited you? Extraordinary.
Oh, it's actually a self portrait.
Oh, I see.
Of whom? Me.
Extraordinary.
Well, this is almost beyond fauvism so deceptively childlike.
Yes, thank you.
This is exactly what you need.
Good company, a bottle of wine.
Oh, you wouldn't believe what we have to endure.
The last two weeks we've been to hell and back.
Well you arrive in remarkably good time.
Oh, right.
You didn't mean the town of Hallenbeck in Bavaria.
So, you have a passion for the old atlas, do you? Aye.
But war is unkind to the rigorous cartiphiles, St.
Petersburg one day, Petrograd the next.
It's costing me a fortune.
Of course, you are all most welcome here.
But when you're going? Oh, soon.
Sooner we can get out of this fetid cesspit the better.
Well, if that's your attitude you can take your poached chicken and you jelly He means Russia, not this hospital.
Oh, yeah.
I won't feel safe until we reach Paris.
Ah, Paris.
Vous avez déjà visité la belle France? Je have fifteen fives.
People would tell you, you can only catch syphilis through sexual contact with an infected lesion.
It's not true.
What if you're pregnant? You can actually infect a new born child in labor.
It's been given a death sentence before it's even been given a name.
Happy birthday! Welcome to a grim but mercifully short life.
I'm sorry, that doesn't answer your question about syphilis.
I didn't ask about syphilis.
Forget that.
Watch this.
You'll love this.
Oh, doctor, not the Moscow Quacks again.
- Why not? - I'll help you upstairs.
No.
But you know what I hate even more than syphilis? Bolsheviks.
Bloody Bolsheviks.
What're you doing? I'm learning to shoot a rifle.
Go on, up to bed, you can still catch Pelageya before she falls to sleep.
No.
No.
No.
I have joined the White Guard.
I have to fight this Bolshevik curse.
Cause they took your morphine? No, no, because of everything they did.
They kill people, and burned childhood dreams.
This is for Natasha.
No.
Anna.
Leopold.
Excuse me, I Yes, that was a unexpected discharge.
- Give me that rifle.
- No.
No.
- Now.
Yes.
- No, get off me.
- Give it to me.
- Get off me.
Give it to me.
You idiot.
You idiot.
Put the boy on the table.
Feldsher, fetch the amputation saw.
Whatever happens, don't pity me.
My God, Mikha, what happened? I shot myself in the foot.
Now I'm gonna have to cut off my own leg.
It's barely more than a scratch.
What? I'll do you a couple of stitches.
I shall shine in waiting of the meeting, between you and I, however fleeting.
Your passion crushes this powerful wave You're awake.
Am I in heaven? Would you like me to finish that poem? That was a poem? Blok, silly.
Yes, of course.
Carry on.
And all fall beneath it, it's lover, it's slave.
I just love Ophelia Song.
Do you? I can read that one next, if you like.
Have you been here all night? No.
I just came to see that you're all right.
I feel terrible.
If I hadn't suggested you join the White Guard, this would never have happened.
No, I have no regrets.
I wanted to aid your cause.
Then perhaps you should join the Bolsheviks.
How would that help? Right.
I think you should rest.
I'll read you that poem.
Say again, "Farewell, dear sweetheart.
" The friend you swore to love So leave now, this dreary landscape No, don't stop.
Alright, but this is as far as I've got.
What a night.
Didn't I tell you it would be? Sorry about the But other than the foot, I mean, that was a great hamper.
I'll admit it wasn't all bad.
Wasn't all bad? I am proud of you.
Come here.
And look at this.
I've been here two minutes, and you haven't asked me for morphine once.
You see, I was right.
There's more to us than morphine.
What're you doing out of bed ? I think Pelageya really appreciated you making the effort.
I think she looked radiant.
And what an appetite.
- A force.
- Yeah.
I'll redress the bandage for you.
You had a terrible fever last night, you were hot and then cold, and hot and then cold again, I didn't sleep a wink.
Pelageya, I don't think it's appropriate for you to call me Mikha, in front of the others.
I'm sorry.
Mikha.
You did it again.
But there are no others here.
Perhaps it's best if you if you just call me doctor, even in private.
Yes, doctor.
Doctor Bonkers.
Do I have to remind you, I'm a doctor in this hospital, you're a junior midwife.
I've a reputation to think of.
There're strict rules.
Are there? Guidelines? Etiquette, at best.
What're you saying? That you want me to resign? No, no! Well Not from the hospital.
But you can't resign from love.
You want to end us.
I don't make the etiquette.
But you said you loved me.
Be nice.
I never loved you.
Nicer.
I just said I loved you because I was on morphine, and I was only on morphine because you injected me.
- You're lying.
- You drug me, so you could keep me.
I bid you good night, doctor.
And the sheaf.
You need to say sorry.
You're out of bed.
You look so much better.
Sorry, I hope you don't mind, I just came in here to practice my harp.
A little thank you.
Well, how lovely.
What for? You nurse me back to life.
Well, yes.
Now we're even, doctor.
Mikha.
Please, call me Mikha.
How very Parisian.
Are you sure you haven't been? Mais oui.
Yes.
Grigory and I will have to get used to such custom.
Grigory, your brother? - No, my - Friend? No, my betrothed.
He's a military man, is he? Yes.
A general.
He's very big.
Shut up.
But I have began my opera.
An opera.
No wonder you hate yourself.