All language subtitles for Up.The.Women.S01E02_English

Nana was a suffragette
Almost the last alive

Nana was a suffragette, over 95

She sang
Votes for women is just the beginning

You haven't seen anything yet

Oh, Nana was a suffragette.

BIRDSONG

Ssh!

A-h-h-hem!

Gwen?

Yes, just putting out my home-made
fairy cakes, Margaret.

No!

A-h-h-h-hem!

Gwen? Yes, just coming. Er...

Yes, um, about these, um, placards,
Gwen.

Um, what was it exactly you said
to Mr Jones from the woodyard?

Well, I said six by three.

Six by three with the poles,
or six by three with the poles?

I'm not sure, Margaret.
I'm not sure.

I was just very conscious not
to take up too much of his time

as he's made them
for us for nothing.

I'm not sure I made a hand gesture.

Where were you? Well, I was
in the line at the butcher's.

Mr Hill, the butcher, had asked me

how large I wanted the beef brisket

for the annual
St Augustine's church dinner,

and Mr Jones from the woodyard
had just asked me

what dimensions I wanted
our plackets to be.

And I looked at Mr Jones and...
Oh, yes, I did gesture.

I gestured to Mr Hill, six by three.

Right. Yes, I see.

They're wrong, aren't they?
No, no, Gwen. They're not wrong.

Oh, Margaret, I'm so sorry!
I'm exhausted.

Mother was up all night
with her pleurisy.

She's finally agreed
to take up smoking,

which the doctor recommended.

But it just seems to keep
her wide awake.

Good grief! Are you putting together
a paddle steamer?

Oh, they are wrong!
No, no, no, no, they're not.

They're perfect for our purpose.

What, a trip down the Mississippi?

We are putting Banbury

Intricate Craft Circle Politely
Requests Women's Suffrage

firmly on the map, Mr Millar.

We're carrying them on a suffrage
march to the post office.

They are wide like this so we can fit
more writing on them.

You could fit the Testament
Old and New on those.

I'm here! I'm here!

I wasn't going to come tonight

as I've been extremely busy
with the annual ball bearings gala.

It wasn't a gala, Helen,
it was a dinner for seven.

Thank you, Mother.

When one has spent one's life
pursuing pleasure for its own sake,

I'm sure it's hard to imagine
how complex the responsibilities

of dutiful married life are.

Yes, I'm sure as I lie
on my deathbed,

I will cast my mind's eye back

over all the table arrangements
I never made.

Not long now.

Hello, Emily.
Don't speak to Emily.

She's being punished for indulging

in the most deplorable,
unnatural act.

I was listening to Bizet.

Music for fallen women.

What's this?
Are you building a windmill?

No, these are placards
for our suffrage protest.

We're marching to the post office
today.

Oh. I see you're still hellbent
on attempting to captain

this rudderless ship of fools

upon the topsy-turvy seas
of a motherless society.

If you mean campaigning
for women's votes, then yes.

I've come today to tell you
that I shan't be joining you.

Oh. No matter how hard you try
to persuade me.

Yes. I'm not a suffragette.
Right. And I never will be.

No. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Well, I'm sure we'd all love it
if you'd stay.

Yes, yes, please, Helen.
Please stay.

Oh, well, very well, if you insist,
I will.

But I will not participate,

I will merely observe
and criticise...constructively.

How very selfless of you.
Thank you, Helen.

Right, so shall we get on with...
Not at all.

..painting these placards?

Right, well, shall I talk you
through the various bits and bobs?

Bits and bobs? The brushes and paints
to paint the signs.

It's a complicated business

and it can't be approached
with any degree of slapdash.

There's art in it.

You can't dip brushes
like you're dipping toffee apples.

I know that. I've recently read
Ruskin's Placards of Venice.

I think I know what I'm doing.

Right, well, just remember
to thin the paint with the turps.

Turps? Ruskin didn't mention turps.

Hang on. Why don't I do one?
You've got enough placards.

Now, this is a one-inch
horsehair Merriweather.

The second most expensive
you can buy.

Dip it in lightly. Just a little.
You don't want to clog it.

Now, what do you want me to write?

Oh, er...down with men?

Down with men. Right-ho.

So...lightly as you go.

Paint it right out till the brush
is empty and then dip again.

Oh, right. Had Michelangelo
been a caretaker...

Yes?

Well, had he been
a caretaker, he would have...

I don't understand.

Well, I'm just saying
if he had been a caretaker,

he would have paid a lot
of attention to his brushes.

Oh! Goodness.

I wasn't... It was just
a passing... Please, I...

I'm a bit worried about
these plackets, Margaret.

I'm not sure if we'll be able
to lift them up high. Really?

Oh, yes. Um...
No, I'm sure it'll be fine.

I'm sure it'll be fine. Just...

The gravity exerts a downward force

and the floor exerts an upward force.

And seeing as both forces
are of equal magnitude

and in opposite direction,
they balance each other out.

It's simply a case of just finding
perfect equilibrium.

Like this.

Agh!

Mr Millar?

I think this is commonly known
as falling at the first hurdle.

Don't worry, Mrs Unwin.
I have a solution.

There are many ways
to wrangle a pole.

Indeed.

I shall be back with
technical reinforcements.

Let's get on with painting
the placards.

Everyone,
there's been a suffrage attack

on the statue of Venus
in the Banbury library.

It's in the papers!

Oh! Yes.

"The attack is believed to have been
carried out by suffragettes.

"The suspects are still at large

"and the police are calling
for witnesses."

Do you want to see, Helen?
No, thank you.

They axed off her blubbery Mabels!
Goodness!

And they painted out
her flannery Ann!

Why would they do such a thing?

Because she's more than just
her flannery Ann

and her blubbery Mabels, Gwen!

Emily! She's not an object.

Well, she's a statue,
which technically is an object.

I've spent many GLORIOUS afternoons
being an object of desire.

When I worked as a governess for
the Tutti Filangieri's in Napoli,

the baron took a shine to me

and we lay in his orchard
discussing beauty and truth

in the shade of his rare plums.

Eva, what is a flannery Ann?

Your, er... Your pompom la bute.

Your Jennifer.

Your Michaelmas Avenue.

Your vagina, Gwen! Emily!

Emily, there is a child present.

Oh, are we doing placards?
Oh, that's exciting!

What can I write on mine, Margaret?

Oh, um...

taxation without representation
is tyranny?

All right.

Do we have to write slogans,
or can we just do patterns?

We're a protest group, Gwen,
not a children's nursery!

Yes, but I don't see why
we can't decorate them.

Perhaps with some flowers
in the corner.

It is vital one studies one's canvas

before one commits one's brush
to it.

When I studied painting
under Jacopo Tonillieri in Roma,

he would insist that I paint naked
to add frisson to my brush.

Did it work? It certainly did.

Could you please spare us

this catalogue of lecherous trysts,
Mother?

No!

Eva? Yes, Gwen?

You know your...well,
your flannery Ann...?

Yes, Gwen.

Um...how does the...
Well, does it join up?

Is that...
Is that how the kittens come out?

Join up with what, Gwen?

Well, does it join up
with your soldier's mitten?

Your what? Your rear guard.

Your reserve constabulary.

Oh! No.

So, where do they come from?

Oh, dear, sweet, innocent Gwen.

They come from heaven.

Through the fiery furnace of hell.

Oh, no, I've ruined mine!

Oh, I'm sure you haven't.

Oh! No, look, everyone.

Yes, she has.

Yes. So I see. I see.

Don't worry, Eva,
everyone will know what you mean.

I just didn't want anyone to know
that I couldn't spell tyranny.

Nor taxation.

Nor representation.

Nor is.

Did you hear about Mrs Latham
and the General's eldest son?

Oh, yes! He's quite exquisite,
though, is he not?

She's no better than she should be.

I heard they were at it
in the kitchen

and Fran the scullery maid walked in
and found them.

Apparently, he was in nothing
but his boots.

Troppo-troppo non-stoppo!

Listen to yourselves!

This is all just a little game
for you, isn't it?

You provincial gossips!

Nothing but
a petty distraction from

the loveless servitude
of your empty lives.

Well, I hope I never end up
like you.

Oh, really, Emily?

And how exactly do you think
you will succeed

where all these women have failed?

It's perfectly obvious.

I will simply choose
never to fall in love.

That is a woman's downfall.

To succumb to the vanity
and idiocy of romance!

Sorry I'm late.

Ladies. Miss Emily.

Late for what?

For the meeting.

This is our woman's suffrage meeting,
Thomas. Yes.

And you wish to join us?
Very much so.

Absolutely!

Welcome! Welcome! Piu sono meglio!

I don't think my Charlie
would like it

if he knew I was in a group
with other men.

Please, please, do not think of me
as a man.

More as a pupil, one whom you can
educate and illuminate

as to the nature of your truthful,
fearless, human hearts.

You...

you, you, you...you are unhappy cogs

worn down by the grinding mechanics
of male society.

Cogs that would break free
of the system

and shatter the machine for ever!

And though I am not a cog,
I can act as a spanner.

A spanner in the works
of your oppression.

Yours to... Hmm...
Yours to use at will.

A tool of protest. Thank you.

Bravo! We have ourselves a spanner!

What do you think?
Shall we use this tool?

Gwen, will there be enough cake?

Oh, yes, there's plenty of fairy
cakes left. Fairy cake, Thomas?

Oh, thank you.
Did you make these, Miss Rapier?

Er...n... Yes, yes! Absolutely
positively made those myself, yes.

Very firm.

Did you read about the attack
on Venus?

Yes. Isn't it wonderful?

Oh, um, I could never consciously
set about

mutilating such a fine depiction
of gentle beauty.

Shouldn't this battle be waged with
the pen rather than by the mallet?

Well, I suppose the weight
of one's weapons

depends on the strength
of one's wrists.

This is the sort of thing
we should be doing!

Not picketing some stupid postbox.

I chose the post office
because of its proximity,

but I'm perfectly open to any
suggestions for suffrage action.

Anyone?

We could shout.

Shout! Very good, Gwen.

Shout. Anyone else?

Arson!

Arson. Yes, good.

We could set fire to something.

Again, good.

Ride a horse bareback through
the town completely naked

with garlands in our hair.

They do that sort of thing
in Wiltshire all the time.

We are not in Wiltshire!

And we're not celebrating harvest
festival. We're protesting!

I think we should chain ourselves
to something.

Chains. Very good, very good!

Kidnap the Prime Minister!
Er...well, um...

You will do no such thing!

Blow up Parliament! Er...yes.

I-I-I'm writing these down,

but that doesn't necessarily mean
I agree with them.

Kill the King! Sit down, Emily!

I'm not going to write that down
because I don't think any of us

want to face the death penalty, now,
do we?

I did rather think that preventing
people from posting letters

does set just the right tone.
Thank you, Thomas.

We're not doing that, are we,
Margaret?

What if it's an important letter?
An order of wool, for example?

Or a birthday card
for a little kitten?

A detailed letter of complaint
to Banbury Council?

A letter to a married man
trapped in a loveless hell?

Er, yes, well, we don't have
to if no-one wants to.

We could just go to the post office

and stand near the postbox
and shout.

Well done, Gwen.

We're supposed to be disturbing
things, aren't we?

If we're worried about
inconveniencing people,

surely we're missing the point.

You're right, Emily, you're right.
Ladies. Thomas?

Frank. I knew we had something.

Excellent! What have you brought us?

They're from the marching band.

You just hook on your drum, or
in this case, pop up your placard.

What a good idea.
They're absolutely perfect, Frank.

I don't think you step into it, Gwen.
I think you put it over your head.

No, no, no. You're doing it all
wrong. Let me demonstrate.

Are you suffragetting, Thomas?

Yes, I am, as a matter of fact,
Frank.

Do you want me to pop back
and get you a marching band belt?

No, no, I think I can manage
perfectly well, thank you. Oh.

Can I help you, Miss Emily?

Yargh!

I'm all right. I'm quite all right.

I have a congenital wrist condition.

How are you managing, ladies?

These are wonderful, Frank.
Just absolutely perfect!

Good evening!

Oh, it is now.

Good evening, officer.
May we be of assistance?

Are you the Banbury
Intricate Craft Circle

Politely Requests Women's Suffrage?

They are, I'm not. I'm just here.

Right, who's in charge?

Goodness only knows.
Frankly, it's a Rangoon fiasco.

Well, it was Margaret's idea.

Margaret. Right.

Margaret? Margaret Northcote?

You do recognise me! Hello, John!

I spent my summers
on John's father's farm.

Ooh, John!

What are you doing here?
Investigating a crime.

What a surprise to see you. Yes.

We were always up to something
in those hay bales, weren't we?

Ladies and sailors, ladies and
shepherds, ladies and highwaymen.

Stand and deliver! Yes, of course.

You won all my marbles.
I gave them you back, though.

Yes, you did, you did.
I still have them all.

Only just.

To what do we owe this pleasure,
John?

I'm here to investigate
a terrible act of vandalism

that was carried out on a statue
in Banbury library.

They axed off her blubbery Mabels.
Indeed.

I don't want to make
any assumptions,

but Miss Reid from the baker's
on Thrumchurch Street

told me there was a suffrage group
meeting here. How dare she!

What a...cow!

Gwen! Sorry.

I thought I'd pop down
and ask you a few questions

and then let you get back
to your...whatever it is.

You don't think we did it, do you?

No, no. Just routine.
Do you have any clues?

The only things left at the scene

were a mouldy cheese sandwich
on stale bread

and a chunk of peanut brittle.

Well, we are suffragettes,
but we're very low-key.

We're just taking these placards
on a march to the post office.

Yes, they look like you're about
to barricade yourselves in.

As I say, I'm sure you've
got nothing to do with it.

Kidnap PM.

Blow up Parliament.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no,
don't worry about that, John.

That was... It was... We were...
Just a...

"Kill the King".

Emily! You are not going out
like that!

Officer, she's not a suffragette.
Yes, I am.

No, you're not!
You're a naughty girl!

Well, be that as it may, I need
to speak to you all individually.

I'm sorry, Margaret. I'm going to
have to file a full report on this.

"Kill the King" and everything.
I understand, John.

Officer Thackeray. Sorry, John...
Sir... Officer Thackeray.

I'm sure it's all very innocent.

Is there somewhere I can use
for interviews? The kitchen?

Right. Who would like to be
interviewed first? Me!

The one that got away.
Oh, stop it, Myrtle!

Ask me anything you like.

Right. Yes, well, I intend to.

I'm an open book.

Name? Myrtle Von Heckling.

Age? Guess.

I'm sorry? See if you can guess.

Where were you last night between
the hours of 10pm and 11pm?

In bed.

Alone?

Alas.

Right, in bed alone.

Can anyone verify that?

No, because you were alone,
obviously. Yes.

Who do you think it was, Margaret?

Someone who likes peanut brittle
and cheese sandwiches, I imagine.

I like cheese sandwiches!
Did I do it?

I don't know, Gwen. Did you?

I don't think so!

You'd know if you did or not, Gwen.

How? You'd remember, Gwen.

Oh, yes, of course. Sorry.

Thank you, Mrs Von Heckling.

Miss.

Who's next? Gwen, would you mind?

Margaret, if I do not return,

will someone take Mother
her fresh poultice?

Yes. Yes, I will.

But don't worry, Gwen.
You will return, it's just routine.

She has the look of a guilty woman.

Now, there's no need to be nervous.

I just want to ask you
a few simple... Yes.

..questions. What's your...

Gwen Rapier, 3 Dundonald Street,
Banbury, Oxfordshire.

And what's... Seamstress.

Who...

My mother.

Have you... No, never.

I had a proposal
from Kenneth Hillingdon,

but Mother forced me to turn him
down. She said he was a simpleton.

Were...
No, I was never in love with him,

but he had a kind heart
and I felt he loved me deeply.

No, Miss Rapier,
I wanted to ask you where.

Oh, sorry. Um, with my mother.

Right. All evening? Yes.

Thank you. You may go.

Oh, thank God! Oh! Thank you!

Just to re-iterate, we have no
intention of killing the King.

You've done very well, Gwen.

Try not to undo that good.

Could you send in the next person,
please? Right.

I'm in the clear!

Helen, you're next.

If I must.

Mrs Helen Bute, wife of Samuel Bute,

owner of the Bute Ball Bearing
Company.

Sponsor of the Banbury Flyers,
the Banbury Rovers

and the Banbury Waterboatmen.

Thank you. Er...

I think what you are trying to say
is,

"Thank you, Mrs Bute,
that will be all."

Yes, yes. Thank you, Mrs Bute,
that will be all.

You are too kind.
Would you send in the next one?

No.

Who's next, please?

Um, Eva? Would you...? Oh.

Let me just get this right.
You've got...

14. Yes, 14 children.

Liberty, Charity, Patience,

Providence, Prudence, Justina,

Earnestina, Constance, Clemence,

Chastity, Virginity,

Abstinence, Moderation and John.

That's 13 girls, 1 boy.

Last night, you were...

Last night, Virginity was locked

in the coalhole by Chastity
and Abstinence

because she'd smashed Chastity's
doll on the fire grate.

Virginity, she's got
a terrible temper.

She gets that from her father's
side. He's hot-headed.

He weren't there last night,

otherwise they wouldn't dare
behave like that in front of him.

They gave the key to Liberty,
who's two,

so only the good Lord knows
where that went!

It was the housekeeper's night off,

so cook and I, we had to bash down
the door

with my husband's
bronze lion doorstop.

Well, I think that's...
Bless the little pigeon!

She was fast asleep
on a pile of coal

by the time
we smashed the door down!

I knew I probably should
give her a punishment

for smashing Chastity's doll,
but I just didn't have the heart.

See, my feeling
is Virginity's punishment

had already been meted out
by Chastity and Abstinence.

Yes, well, thank you for your time,
Mrs, er...

Do you have any children?

Would you just send in Margaret,
please?

Of course.

Your turn, Margaret!

Right. Yes.

John and Margaret
sitting in a tree.

Mother!

Well...this really couldn't be
any worse for Margaret, could it?

Huh! I mean, picketing the post
office. What a catastrophic idea!

I thought we should picket
Betty's sweet shop.

She's always very miserly
with her peanut brittle.

If they was going to picket
anywhere,

it should be Mrs Allam's
cheesemonger's on Gridley Hill.

She once sold me mouldy cheddar
and told me it was blue Leicester.

Or that dreadful bakery
on Thrumchurch Street

run by that slattern - Miss Reid.

The one who shopped us over.

Why anyone would let her near flour,

eggs and a mixing bowl
with those hands!

Oh, I know! Have you seen them?

She's got filthy fingers
like burnt sausages.

Well...

..this is...

However could we have guessed
we'd be in such a situation?

Ah, it's just routine.
Nothing to worry about.

Right, just going to ask you
a few questions.

You know my name, obviously.

Not your married name.

It's Thackeray... Unwin.

Yes, Unwin. I'm married. Married.

12 long years.

Extraordinary, isn't it,

that we should meet like this, again,

after all these years?

You remembered my name.

Yes. Well, I'm good with names,
faces.

It helps in my profession.

Yes. You must be professional.

What's your address?

14 Lavender Road, Banbury, obviously.
And yours?

Um...

No. just...just ask your questions.

Right, I will.
Where were you last night?

My husband was in his bedroom,
reading, and...

..I was in mine...alone...

on my own...writing.

Were you there all night?

I can't do this!

I must think of my son Cecil.

Was he awake?

He sleeps fitfully.
He wears callipers.

Well, I, er...I think that's all.
Thank you.

Yes. Yes. Goodbye, John.

Thank you for being strong
for both of us.

It's the right thing to do.

Goodbye. Bye, then.

Yes, you can't look up.

It's too painful.
I understand. Goodbye.

SHE SIGHS

Oh! Oh, yes.

Sorry. Yes.

Right. Well, I'm off.

Wait!
Aren't you going to interview me?

I don't really see there's any...
What if I did it?

But you didn't! Be quiet, Emily!

I did! I did it! Arrest me!

She didn't.
She was with me all evening.

What colour paint did you use
to paint out her...

Flannery Ann?

Um... B-lue?

Yell...?

Red?

FAINT WHISTLE >

You're all perfectly innocent.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall
leave you to get on with your...

whatever it is.
Ladies. Frank. Thomas.

FAINT COMMOTION

Officer Thackeray.

Right. Come on, everyone, placards
up. Let's get to the post office.

I am abstaining.

Everyone except Helen!

Oh! Mrs Unwin, the post office
shuts in five minutes.

Oh, no! Shall I

pop down the road and see if they'll
stay open for a bit longer?

Would you, Frank? Would you?

I know Bob from
the Vegetable Grower's Guild.

Do you think we need a signal
to alert us to danger?

What, like a whistle?

Oh, I never whistle, it's common.

Everyone can whistle, can't they?
THEY WHISTLE

We don't need a whistle!
Can't we just go?!

How about a bird call?

What about an owl? We can all
do an owl, can't we? Owl?

THEY IMITATE TAWNY OWL

Yes. On your own, Gwen.

SHE HOWLS

Yes, not your wolf, Gwen, your owl.
That was my owl.

SHE HOWLS

That's definitely a wolf.

We can we all do a wolf, can't we?
THEY HOWL

Argh! I can't stand this!
I can't bear it any longer!

I wish to be turned inside out and
rolled on the salting room floor.

Anything! Anything
but this interminable inaction!

Can't we just do something?!
Somebody just DO something!

Up the women! Huzzah!

SMASH
Oh!

Oh, no!

< WHISTLE BLOWS

GWEN HOWLS

Yes, all right, Gwen, thank you.
Yes, yes.

Who threw this?

I did!

No, I threw it. Arrest ME!

No, you didn't! Be quiet, Emily!

Who has been consorting
with Miss Reid

from the Thrumchurch Street bakery?

I have! I'm sorry, everyone!

Gwen! How could you?

I just didn't have time
to make our tiffin!

I would never ever normally buy
shop-bought cakes, officer!

Well, it was Miss Reid,
Mrs Allam the cheesemonger

and Betty from the sweet shop
who attacked the Venus.

No!

Am I an accomplice?
Are you going to arrest me?

Margaret, Mother's poultice
is in the larder on the meat shelf.

Please don't force-feed me!

No, that won't be necessary.

As far as I can see,
the only crime you've committed

is buying cakes
from Miss Reid's bakery.

I recognised it because I use them
as slow compost on my courgettes.

Do you really?

Yes. They work a treat.

Anyway, it turns out you're not
the only suffragettes in Banbury.

They're calling themselves
the Free Suffragette Army.

Now, that IS a strong name,
don't you think, Margaret?

The post office will stay
open for ten more minutes!

All right, come on, then.
Placards up.

No. Put that down, Emily.
Carry your grandmother's.

UNINTELLIGIBLE
AND OUT OF TUNE SINGING

Nana was a suffragette

It's as if she's still alive

Nana was a suffragette

Their voices still survive

Singing
Votes for women is just the beginning

You haven't seen anything yet...

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd