All language subtitles for My Brother

[Bell ringing]

Whoa, Whoa, boy!
Eh, clear the way!

Go on, hyuh, hyuh!

[Lowing]

Clear the way, now!
Clear the way!

[Lowing]

Hyum

Hup!

[Bell ringing]

Match over, Jonno'?

- You'd better pull
yourself together.

We're on duty
in 1O minutes.

- Hmm. I suppose
your precious brother

made yet another
century.

- Not this time.

Oh, never mind.

I suspect his adoring
female public consoled him.

- Well, thanks for leaving me
some of the beer.

Ha. You know, the value
of alcohol as a drug

has never really
been appreciated.

- This hospital is full of people
who'd disagree with you.

The whole matter is complicated
by religious prejudices.

Like chloroform.

I mean, the churches
used to protest

against the use
of anesthetics.

- Arthur, get ready.

Oh, God!

Dreary, sordid,
damned routine.

There is absolutely
nothing less enthralling

than spending
a fine afternoon

contemplating
medical case sheets.

[Knock at door]
JONATHAN: Yes?

Casualty's just come in,
sir. Motor accident.

Ooh.
- Thank you, Joseph.

Yes, but We're not on 'til 6:00.
Where's Mr. Boyce?

- Thank you, Joseph.
I'll be down in a minute.

Thank you, sir.

Jonathan!

Good evening, Sister.

-I'm afraid he was dead
on arrival, Doctor.

Oh.

- The ambulance is Waiting
to take him to the mortuary.

I'd better take
a look at him.

Bad job, sir.

Walked out of the cricket ground
and straight under the wheels.

Driver never stood
a chance.

Oh, God.

If you've no objection, Doctor,
I'll go through his pockets

before they take him away,
find out who he is.

- L can give you
all the particulars

you need, Sergeant.

You knew him, sir'?

- Yes.

Thank you for coming.

-[sigh] Of all the rotten
things to happen.

Yes.

- Listen, old chap,
you leave everything to me.

You go home.

Would you like me
to call you a cab'?

- Um...

I think I'll walk
to the station.

It'll do me good.

Jonathan.

You know how I feel,
don't you'?

All stations
to Worcester!

Change at Stourton
for Halesby and Brimsley.

Hurry along, please!

Come on, boy,
come on!

Head back.
Best foot forward!

[Official
blows Whistle]

Come along, Jonathan!

Come on, boy!
Come on! Come on!

Brimsley!
This is Brimsley station!

- Come along, Jonathan!

You clumsy oaf!

Sorry, Father.

Get on the train!

- Come along, now, please, sir.
Hurry along, sir!

[Blows Whistle]

I say, Dakers,

why don't you ever travel
with your father?

[Whistle blows]

"In Gath, you shall not
publish it".

[sigh]

"In Gath...

you shall not tell it

nor shall you publish it
in the street- ♪

[Bat cracks]

Ohh!

No, no, no!

Good heavens, boy,
you're not killing a fly!

- Father,
do come and play.

Chin up, lad.
Turn about!

Now, lower your grip.

Lower, still!

Ugh. Now hold
the bat straight.

That's it.

A fast half-volley

to the leg stump,
old chap.

Well done!

- Thank you, Father.

Harold's turn to bat.

We'll make a cricketer
of him yet, old chap.

Watch Harold, Jonathan.

Learn from him.

Run, Jonathan!

I am uneasy about
Jonathan, Lavinia.

He seems incapable
of going anywhere

or doing anything Without
Harold at his side.

I really think

you should
encourage Harold

to spend less time
with his brother.

Jonathan must find someone
of his own age to play with.

As you Wish, Eugene.

I should be upset if Harold
were to be infected

by any grammar-school airs
before he went to Eton.

Yes, Eugene.

Ah, good, good.
You're still awake.

-L-is anything
wrong, Father?

Not at all, old chap.

Wanted to sound you out
about Saturday.

Thought we might invite that
friend of yours to join us.

The more the merrier, eh'?

He can stay the night,
if he likes.

Who do you mean'?

Who do I mean'?

I mean the lad
you go to school with

every morning;
that's who I mean.

Boy from Halesby,
goggles.

- Martock'?

Like the out of him.
Ask him for Saturday.

Bound to have
a bicycle.

- But he's not really
a friend, you see.

High time you were
asleep, young man!

Hello.

That's my mother.

She was a Shakespearean
actress.

That's
my brother, Jonathan.

- I know.

He was named after a character
in one of my father's poems.

- No, he wasn't.
It was in the Bible.

My father
wouldn't crib!

Father's poems
are magnificent.

- The Bible's better.

Ready, boys'?!
[clap-clap] All set'?!

[Rings bell]

A perfect Rossetti,
Arthur.

Have you ever seen

such a perfect
Rossetti?

She was once a fine
Shakespearean actress, Arthur.

Her hair that lay
along her back

was yellow,

like ripe corn.

Come, lads, let us descend
from our little Parnassus.

"L am distressed for thee,
my brother Jonathan:

thou hast been
very pleasant unto me:"

thy love for me "was wondrous,
it surpassed the love of women.

How are the mighty fallen

and gone forever all
the weapons of war!"

Do you play cricket,
Arthur'?

- Yes, sir.

Splendid, splendid!

[Singing in German]

Tell me, Arthur, what
do you think of Harold'?

Arthur.

- He's very --

He's very
aristocratic, sir.

- Blood will tell, Arthur;
blood will tell.

Yours or
Mrs. Dakers's, sir'?

Our aristocracy is no mere
physical accident, lad.

An ancestor of mine was knighted
by Richard Coeur de Lion

for gallantry against
the Saracen in Palestine.

- You mean Jonathan's
almost royal'?

Jonathan'?!

Considering his mother's
beauty and my intellect,

it's difficult to believe

that Jonathan is
the child of either of us.

Time to move on.

Listen, boys!
A skylark!

Quiet! Listen.

"Listen Where
thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool,

translucent Wave...

ls that something
you wrote, Mr. Dakers'?

No, Arthur;
that is Milton.

Real poetry.

Not that Jonathan is
Without brains, of course.

In quantity, I imagine his
wit's as good as Harold's.

In quality, they're
as different from each other

as the Isle of Wight
and...

Sicily.

Harold is the vessel
that contains

the blood of
my crusading ancestors.

All that a normal child
needs, Arthur, in the way

of primary instruction,
is a cultural background:

the names of flowers,
how to distinguish a bird

from its song,
a Wide vocabulary.

An early familiarity
with fine literature, Arthur,

is the basis
of all culture.

That's Where
the Martyn family live.

It's called
Silver Street.

It was built
on an old Roman site

known as wood
on the road --

wood: sffva,
street: stratum --

Silva Stratum.

- Silver Street.

And it's Martyn
with a y, not an i.

- Silver Street.

[Bicycle bell rings]

Here we are, at last,
my love,

hungry as hunters, home
from our great journey.

Ah!
We have visitors.

- Eugene, I must speak
to you at once.

[whispering]
Bailiffs.

- Bailiffs!

Put away the
bicycles, boys.

Gentlemen.
Lavinia, my dear,

what have we ready for
our distinguished company'?

Ready, Eugene'?

Come, now, boys,
stir yourselves!

This is
a great occasion.

Jonathan, fetch that
magnum from the cellar.

Eugene, I only have
cold mutton and pickles.

Not enough for seven.

Capital! Nothing better!
Pure ambrosia.

And young Harold, here,
shall initiate us

into the mysteries
of dressing salads.

Gentlemen!
Come in, come in!

Boys! Find
our visitors a chair.

Enjoying yourself,
Arthur'?

- Very much,
thank you, sir.

Good. You must come again.
You must come often.

We'll open a new world
to you here in Chadshill.

Ah. Gentlemen,
please, be seated.

Jonathan,

if you and Harold
would do the honors.

- Eugene, what are we
celebrating'?

My love, this is
the first time

such an incident has
occurred at Chadshill.

It is our bounded duty
to celebrate.

Harold.

Gentlemen, a toast!

To the sheriff of the
Worcestershire County court

and his officers.

Why did you
come today?

- You asked me.

You didn't want to,
did you'?

My mother made me.

- Harold and I have to take
a cold tub every morning.

Father does, too.

- He's jolly interesting,
your father.

He knows an awful lot,
doesn't he'?

He knows nothing
about anything.

He's a fifth-rate sham!

I like your mother.

- Yes, there's nobody in
the world quite like her.

He treats her
like a scivvy.

Without her,
he'd be nothing.

- What does he do'?

He works
in North Bromvvich.

Shall we leave the curtains
open like that'?

- But what at'?

In an office.

- You don't really know
what he does, do you'?

Yes, I do! He does
something in the city.

He's the only first-class
season-ticket holder

at Brimsley Station.

- Why do you go to grammar school
if Harold's dovvn for Eton?

They can't afford
to send us both.

Father says Harold
will be good enough

to play cricket
at Lord's.

That's his ambition, anyway.
He's awfully good, you know.

I expect he'll go on
to Cambridge after Eton.

Harold,
Harold, Harold.

All I've heard today is
how wonderful your Harold is.

- He is!
Don't you like him'?

He's all right,
I suppose,

but your people never seem
to say anything nice about you.

[Scoff]

Father gave me up
as useless years ago.

I think he was right.

I can't seem to do
anything very Well --

not like Harold.

[Knock at door]

[insistent knocking]

Come in, Lavinia!

I have finished
the poem.

Listen to this...

"Upon high places the
beauty of Israel is slain.

How are the mighty
fallen now."

- Eugene --

"ln Gath
you shall not tell it;

nor shall you publish it
in the streets of Askalon."

-I'm very tired,
Eugene.

"So that the daughters
of the Philistines

may not rejoice, nor the
uncircumciséd triumph."

There.

- Well, after that,
Eugene,

anything else
would sound feeble.

- There is, of course,
a redundant syllable

in the last line;
you probably noticed.

Well, I thought it perfect,
as far as it went,

reminiscent of Keats.

I sincerely hope,
my dear Lavinia,

that it wasn't reminiscent
of anybody.

Eugene, I wish to speak
to you about those men.

- Oh, honest, decent
fellows, I thought.

They talked of selling
our furniture.

Oh, an amusing
contretemps, my dear.

No need
to concern yourself.

Thanks to some quaint
misunderstanding,

a distraint was levied;

I believe that's
the correct jargon.

But the whole
of Brimsley will know

that the bailiffs
have been in.

Nonsense. Thanks to the
prudence of your brother --

Lord rest his soul --

we have tonight
navigated troubled waters

and no one beyond these four
walls need be any the Wiser.

Jack'? What has Jack
to do with this'?

He had the generosity
and good sense, did he not,

to provide money
for Jonathan's education?

Of which I am
the sole trustee.

You intend to pay the creditors
with Jonathan's legacy?

The thing most important
to Jonathan's Welfare

at the moment, Lavinia,
is that his surroundings

should be Worthy
of his means.

And imagine
poor Harold at Eton,

if the name of Dakers should
carry the stigma of debt.

- Oh!

So, you see, my love, you have
nothing at all to worry about.

The whole matter has been
settled satisfactorily.

What are you doing?

-It's those bailiffs.

I think Father must be
dreadfully in debt.

- You wouldn't have thought so,
the way he enjoys himself.

Tsk. That's
the worst of it.

As long as he has enough
Wine and whiskey,

nothing else seems
to matter.

Sooner or later,
there'll be an awful smash.

L shall probably
have to leave school.

I wish I could.

- Tsl<. But I want to be
a doctor, Arthur.

Ever since I was quite small,
I've wanted to be a doctor.

But it takes 5 years
to qualify and,

even if you take the exams
when you're 17,

you'll be 23 before you
can start earning money.

- I know.

Anyway, I expect you'll be
all right: your governor said

he's got plenty of money
in that colliery.

[scoff] He says
a lot of things.

If you do go to medical school,
we'll be together again.

I'm going there, too.
- Are you'?

It's my father's idea.
I'd much rather be a policeman.

I'm glad We're friends.

W-vve are friends,
aren't we'?

I should jolly Well
think so.

Goodnight, Arthur.

Goodnight,
Jonathan.

But I want to be
a doctor, Arthur.

- But it takes 5 years
to qualify...

you'll be 23 before you
can start earning money.

MOORE: Finish off,
please, Sister.

[sigh]

Is it the spectacle of death
that still troubles you'?

You've been in surgery
for two years.

Isn't it about time
you were familiar

with that cold presence?

It's a natural process,
my friend.

We all have to go,
one way or another,

some of us, in guises far more
terrible than that poor vvretch.

I did my very first surgery
as an unqualified assistant

to an old josser
in Dulston.

Strangulated hernia.
Patient died.

It's a stricken road
we ride through,

not some high
romantic adventure.

We live in an odor of blood
and chloroform and antiseptics.

Get used to death.

My very first surgery.

How do you think
I felt about that, hmm'?

Make death as stereotyped
as a hospital diet sheet.

Be as little aware of it as
the oxygen in the atmosphere.

Here endeth the gospel

according
to Lloyd Moore.

You think me
very ruthless.

I think you're a genius;
I have done since my first year

at medical school.

- Admit me no confidences,
young man.

You might as Well make
a boon companion of a stone.

OFFICIAL: Brimsley!
This is Brimsley!

Halesby, next stop!

Evening, Mr. Dakers.

[Blows Whistle]
-[Horn toots]

Are you happy, Mother'?

[Door thumps]

Hello, Father.

Honoring Chadshill with
your presence, at last.

I'm sorry,
but I have to leave.

We expected you
home earlier.

-[haughtily]
"We"?

I'm needed
at the hospital.

Your mother
needs you, too.

Perhaps you might consider
her, now and then.

Good morning.

-[panting]
Good morning.

Harold!
-lt's about time.

Lord, it's good to see you.
Look who's here, Arthur.

How did you get in'?
Can you stay'?

- Hello, Arthur.
- Hello, Harold.

How is the glittering jewel
of Cambridge society'?

- Playing truant
for a day or two.

Why didn't you
let me know?

I'll leave you two
to talk.

- How are you'?
Let me look at you.

My God!
What a plutocrat.

- I don't think Arthur
approves of me.

I can't believe it.
What are you doing here?

You've been rusticated.

To answer all your questions:
I'm very well, thank you;

your porter let me in;
I haven't been sent down;

and, as a matter of fact,
I can't stay.

I've got a train to catch
in precisely 40 minutes.

Well, at least
sit down.

How can you stand
this place, Jonno'?

-It's a little bare, I suppose,
but I feel quite at home here.

But there's such a stink.

-Is there'?

Mm, it's like...acid.

- Chlorine. We're directly
over the chemical lab.

How long are you
home for, Hal'?

-'Til Sunday.

How's Mother'?
Have you seen her yet'?

- I shan't be staying
at Chadshill.

I'll be staying with the
Martyns at Silver Street.

- The Martyns'?

Alec Martyn's with me
at Trinity.

- Ah.
- They're awfully Wealthy.

Old family.

- Mother'll be disappointed
not to see you.

Well, she won't know I'm here,
unless you tell her.

How is she'?

Worn out.

And Father?

- Drinking
more than ever.

I tried to talk
to Mother about him, but,

she thinks the least bit
of criticism is sacrilegious.

Are you free
on Saturday, Jonno'?

As a matter of fact, I am.
- The Martyns

have invited you to play
tennis and stay for dinner.

Invited me?
They don't know me.

Well, I told Alec how you
spent all your spare time

crouched like a vulture
over some cadaver or another

and, now, he can't wait
to meet you.

They can't really want me there.
- Of course they do.

They've only invited me
as a sort of appendage to you.

I'll be completely
out of my element.

Nonsense! You can do
the "English country gentleman

with artistic leanings"
to perfection.

Did you say
Silver Street?

- Mm.
It's near Stourton.

The house by the river.

ALEC: Love-30.

[Laughs]
- ALEC: Let!

Thank you.

SHEILA:
Well done, Harold!

Your brother's playing
like an angel, isn't he'?

He's such a Wonderful
all-rounder.

I saw him batting
at Lord's, you know,

when he and Alec
played for Eton.

But, of course, you musfve
been there there, too.

I wonder why
we didn't meet you.

Oh, yes, of course. You were
at Winchester, weren't you'?

As a matter of fact --

- You musfve been there
with my cousin George.

George Lapton,
Lord Halberton's son.

George is a rotten
cricketer, isn't he'?

I was at North Bromvvich
Grammar School.

How extraordinary.

You know, I sometimes
despair of my daughters.

They seem to take
a perverse delight

at flaunting themselves before
every young man they meet.

- They appear to be
pleasant-enough lads.

Aleds at Trinity
with the good-looking one.

The family have a reputation
for being a little...

out of the way.

[Dog barks]
- Well, the father

has been bold enough
to confess himself

a poet of some standing,
so I suppose he could be said

to be carrying on the literary
tradition of the county.

{Dog whines]

What does he do,
precisely?

Oh, something
of an urban nature

in North Bromvvich,
according to Alex.

[whispering]
Now, be sure

and plug everything
at my sister.

It won't hurt her
at all.

We simply must win because
she hates being beaten.

Play on her backhand.
That's her Weakness.

-I'll do my best.

They Won't spare us,
you know.

We're ready!

Sorry, partner.

I say,
steady on, Jonno.

[whispering]
That's the stuff.

Rather violent,
don't you think?

Sheila has her eye
on you, you know.

No, she doesn't.

- Well, not at this very
moment, perhaps,

but her feelings for you are
quite definitely possessive.

Doesn't that frighten you'?
It ought to.

- You shouldn't talk about
your sister like that.

[laughs] Why not'?
I can't stand her.

I can't stand any
of them.

I'm a throwback, you see,
a sort of Martyn family freak.

[Scoff]

Edith the rebel.

"Edie", please. Nobody
ever calls me Edith.

There you are.

What were you
looking at'?

- I was thinking of the first
time I saw this place.

I think
you were escaping.

Now, you're my prisoner
and I grant you

5 more minutes of freedom before
I drag you in for dinner.

Well, come along.

If we don't move, we shall
freeze on the spot.

Were you going to say
how beautiful I was?

Something
along those lines.

- As pale and beautiful
as the moon'?

Yes.

- But the moon has
a dark side, Jonathan.

Nobody's
ever seen it, yet.

- Why do you
let people see

nothing of yourself
but '(he outside?

Don't all women
do that?

Let's go in.
It's cold, standing here.

You're such a romantic,
aren't you'?

I doubt
if it's curable.

- Why do you persist
in laughing at everything'?

I suppose because
most things are a joke.

[Train Whistle blows]

SERGEANT: Bad job, sir.
Driver never stood a chance.

- I can give you
all '(he particulars

you need, Sergeant.

His name is
Eugene Dakers.

The address is
ChadshiH, Brimsley.

[Official
blows Whistle]

-[Horn toots]

Eugene?

Why, Jonathan,

what a surprise.

I thought it was your
father, home at last.

He's been
to the cricket match.

He should've been back
a long time ago.

Jonathan'?

- There's been
an accident, Mother.

Your father?

Tell me what happened.

-[quietly] He was knocked
down by a motor oar

in the Bristol Road.

It musfve been
instantaneous.

They brought him in
to the hospital.

- I see.

Oh, Mother!

I'll go and make up
your bed.

- Please don't, Mother.
Leave that to me.

No no no, I'd rather
do it myself.

Then, I think
I shall go to bed.

You'll find some supper
on the dining room table.

Mother.

Goodnight, Jonathan.

[Ring]

Another Wreath.
Brimsley Cricket Club.

I can't believe it.
- They're unpaid, all of them.

Some of them date back
to the beginning of last year.

There doesn't seem to be
a farmer in the district

who hasn't supplied us
with produce.

Every dravvefis
stuffed with bills.

Do you suppose
Mother knows?

- She doesn't even know whether
Father made a will or not.

I think we should speak
to the solicitor.

- Mm-hmm, I've made
an appointment to see him.

And the bank manager.
We must get things sorted out.

Everywhere we look is a muddle
of overdraft and mismanagement.

-I'd better come with you
when you go to see them.

I'm glad
you're here, Hal.

You're so levelheaded
about everything.

You've been marvelous.
-[Thump upstairs]

Hmm.
-[Creak]

Have you seen her yet
this morning'?

Tsk. Poor Mother.

She's still
terribly shocked.

I don't think she's shed
a single tear yet.

Her composurés
almost inhuman.

Good God! Look at these!
- Hmm'?

The Fit-u Corset Company,
Sackville Street.

Midland representative:
E. Dakers.

What'?!

Burn them.

He was a sales agent.

I don't want Mother
to see these.

Well, she
musfve known.

We didn't.

Burn them, Hal.

The old fraud.

- Hal, do you remember

Father saying he had
shares in a colliery'?

- Was that a sham, too'?

No, he had them, all right. I've
just found the certificates.

Well, thank God for that.
We're going to need every penny.

In Sedgebury Main Colliery,

the mine that flooded
two years ago.

[sigh]

It's pretty bad,
isn't it?

I'm afraid, old chap,
it really rather looks

as if We're
in the soup.