All language subtitles for Around.the.World.in.80.Days.S01E02.WEBRip.x264-ION10

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[birds chirping]

[steam train approaching]

[man in Italian]

[Moretti chuckles]

[train chugging]

♪♪♪♪♪

[train whistles]

[Fogg] This really is
the only way to travel.

[cracking, thuds]

♪♪♪♪♪

[Passepartout]
We could have all died.

[Abigail] But we didn't.

♪♪♪♪♪

[Fogg] How was I to know
which way was up

and which way was down?

[Passepartout]
It said so on the lever.

[Fogg] What sort of man
marks the dials in French?

A French man.

According to my calculations
we won't be here long.

[clock ticking]

Please, Mr. Fogg,
just a few words.

Firstly, what makes you think
you are capable

of going around the world
in a mere 80 days?

Uh, well,

improvements in the speed

and reliability
of trains and boats,

that should make
an enormous difference.

I was hoping
for a little more color.

Did you travel a lot as a boy?

Is that where you got
your travel bug?

Technological innovation,
new forms of travel.

Um, did you know, for instance,
Mr. Lôme's balloon

just navigated the Alps faster
than any train could have done?

The crashed balloon
that is lying in the field?

Mr. Fogg, what makes you think

you are capable
of going around the world

in a mere eighty days?

[bell tolls]

[whispers] Come on, come on...

[theme music plays]

Who has inspired you?

Alexander the Great?

Richard the Lionheart?

What qualities
would you say define you

and will drive you on?

Answer the questions,
make her stop.

Courage?
Square-jawed determination?

Love of queen and country?

Oh, enough questions,
please, Miss Fix.

I'll stop asking them
when you stop being so evasive.

I'm not being evasive.

♪♪♪♪♪

[man in Italian]

Bravo! Bravo!

I was right.

-Bless the Italians!
-For what?

For the three o'clock
to Brindisi bang on time.

Hello!

[train whistles]

[train whistling repeatedly]

♪♪♪♪♪

[Fogg shouts] Stop there!

Halt!

Halt! Desist!

[wheels screeching]

[in Italian]

Excellent.

♪♪♪♪♪

[Bellamy] A damn map?

Seems a ridiculous expense
to go to, don't you think?

The man will be home
by the weekend

with his tail between his legs.

Well, let's hope so,
for your sake.

Seriously.

There's not
a snowball's hope in hell

of him making it
around the world in 80 days.

Well, probably not, but, um...

he has Abigail by his side,

and she's a force of nature, so.

who knows?

[men chatting in Italian]

[Fogg]
Do we stop anywhere?

-Straight through to Brindisi.
-Splendid.

We can catch a steamer there
to the Suez Canal.

Great.
Your compartment, Mr. Fogg.

Oh, excellent, thank you.

And yours, Miss Fix.

Thank you.

Oh.

You couldn't rustle up some
hot water and soap, could you?

I haven't washed since London.

[in Italian]

Third Class is
at the very rear of the train.

A few of us
are playing cards tonight

in the guard's van,
behind the engine.

You're welcome to join us.

Not for me.

Ah, shame.

I heard a Frenchman
and his money are easily parted.

Mr. Fogg, Miss Fix?

Would you like to meet
your fellow travelers?

-Certainly.
-Of course.

Please.

[indistinct chatter]

[chickens clucking]

♪♪♪♪♪

Anyone know any good songs?

♪♪♪♪♪

[train chugging and whistling]

[in Italian]

This is Mr. Fogg,
pilot and adventurer.

Flew all the way
from Paris under a bag of air.

And this is
his companion, Miss Fix.

Uh, journalist, actually.

Si. This is il Signor Fazi.

Welcome, Mr. Fogg.

Pleasure.

-My wife, Eva.
-Mr. Fogg.

Did you really fly to Italy
in that contraption?

Such valor and skill.

Oh, you're far too kind,
signora.

Just a man going
about his business.

Valor and skill.

Write that down, Miss Fix.

I'm a journalist,
not a note taker.

And soap,
if you could be so kind.

-And towels.
- Certo, signorina.

Sorry, we must both smell

like August
in Smithfield Market.

Must we keep mentioning
body odor in company?

[clears throat]

Now, who might
this fine fellow be?

This is my son, Alberto.

Alberto.
Pleasure to meet you, Alberto.

Nice to meet you.

This is Signor Niccolo Moretti.

[bones cracking faintly]

[in Italian]

A pleasure.

♪♪♪♪♪

[crunch]

[Passepartout] Ugh!

[in French]

[in Italian]

[sniffs]

Olive oil, garlic...

and chopped anchovies.

Si.

Something else.

Truffle.

[in Italian]

No.

[crunching]

Mmm!

Mmm!

[laughter]

[applause]

♪♪♪♪♪

It's absolutely incredible,
Mr. Fogg.

You really think
you can cross the entire globe

in just 80 days?

Certainly, madame.

Or die trying.

What it must be to be
a great adventurer.

It is your nation's greatest
gift to the world.

Glad to see you brought

your full dress suit
with you, Fogg.

Well...

a chap likes
to maintain standards.

At least
you'll be properly dressed

when they're boiling
your head in Borneo.

[laughs]

What made you want to take on
this challenge, Mr. Fogg?

I've been asking him that
since we left London.

What's your answer, Mr. Fogg?

Well, I'd long
thought it possible

that something
like this could be achieved.

And yet, funnily enough,
you didn't move

from your chair
in the Reform Club

until you read a rather
brilliant article by me.

Yes, it's certainly true
that Miss Fix gave me

the nudge I needed.

You have travelled extensively,
Mr. Fogg?

Ah...I wouldn't say
extensively, exactly. Um...

Uh, well, for instance,
I understand

some of you are going on
to Pompeii now.

If I was not in such
a hurry myself I should--

Where have you been, Fogg?

My business
has taken me all over Europe

the Far East, America.

Nothing compared with you,
I imagine.

Um... Edinburgh?

[chuckles] Edinburgh?

For a wedding.

Where else?

Paris.

You've just come from Paris,
you told us that.

He didn't just go to Paris.

He actually stopped
an assassination attempt

on the president of France.

This cannot be true.

I was just in the right place
at the right time.

Edinburgh, Paris...
Where else?

Italy.

[Moretti laughs]

You have my sympathies,
Miss Fix.

Traveling around the world
with a great adventurer--

a man who once went
to Edinburgh. [laughs]

Tchin-tchin.

[Moretti continues laughing]

[train chugging]

Does your wife
mind you gallivanting

all around the world, Mr. Fogg?

Alas, there is no Mrs. Fogg.

Oh. You've never found
the right woman or...?

No. Well...

long time ago.

You used to come
to our house for Sunday lunch

and you never talked
about women.

A woman.

And you, Miss Fix?
You have a fiancé?

Good grief, no.

I need a man like a fish
needs a penny-farthing.

[giggles]

Where's your wife, Mr. Moretti?

In a coffin in Pisa.

[gulps]

I am so sorry.

As am I.

My deepest sympathies
to both of you.

I am taking the boy to live
with my sister in Brindisi.

We decided
he needs a woman's care.

[in Italian]

Mr. Fogg, have you read this?

Of course he hasn't.

Busy men don't have time
for children's stories.

I have, actually.

Jules Verne, yes.

Yes, I enjoyed that enormously.

Do you think that one day

man will be able
to travel to the moon?

Well, now,
that's quite a question.

Don't feel
you have to answer it.

I see you British have legalized
the trade unions, Fogg.

That'll come back to bite you.

I have a friend--
had a friend, um,

who always said

"Any one of us
can achieve anything--

-What was his name?
-Hers, actually.

What was her name,
this mysterious woman?

So why not the moon?

I have made a model of a rocket

that I believe could get us
to the moon, Mr. Fogg.

Would you like to see it?

Yes, I'd like that very much.

Thank you!

[in Italian]

I think he likes you, Mr. Fogg.

Odd. He generally prefers
the company of women.

[snoring]

[boy 1, in Italian]

[boy 2]

[woman]

[In French]

♪♪♪♪♪

[in Italian]

[breathes heavily]

♪♪♪♪♪

[Moretti] Look, the point is not

if we can go to the moon or not,

it's why bother
in the first place?

Surely even industrialists
can dream, Mr. Moretti.

If you ask me,
dreams are for people

who have failed
with their real lives.

Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Fogg?

-Look!
-Oh. Oh.

No, just a drop of water,
no harm done.

[gasps]

Alberto...

This is your fault, Fogg.
You encouraged him.

[man in Italian]

Your Mr. Fogg
is annoying Signor Moretti.

He is very good
at annoying people.

[laughter]

[hooting, laughter]

She likes newspapers.

Is everything all right?

I am talking to my son.

Don't let us keep you
from your dinner.

No, you were absolutely right,
Moretti.

It was all my fault
for encouraging him.

No need to punish the lad.

Are you telling me
how to raise my own son?

[stammering] No, not at all.

It was an accident,
you know...

You spend your life

in gentlemen's clubs,

flying about in balloons,

single, childless,
and you dare lecture me?

No, not a lecture.

I have spent my life
making something of myself.

If you think I'm now going
to be told how to raise my son

by some preposterous,
effete Englishman

who has achieved
precisely nothing with his life.

Go to bed, Signor Fogg,

before I thrash you
in front of my boy.

What on earth is going on here?

Mr. Fogg was about to go to bed.

Isn't that right?

[Abigail] Mister Fogg...

He's a fraud, Miss Fix.

You are traveling
around the world...

with a fraud.

[sighs]

There you are, Passepartout.

Would you like a glass of wine,
signorina?

I couldn't sleep.

You can sleep when you're dead.

Are you drunk?

Yes, I am.
Thank you for asking.

When Fogg
talked to Lôme in Paris,

he had such passion,
such belief.

I honestly believed he could
get us around the world

and win his wager.

A certain energy,
a certain light in his eyes.

What's he done now?

Use the wrong fork?
[chuckles]

He's not the man
I thought he was.

In fact, I'm not sure
he's much of a man at all.

♪♪♪♪♪♪

It's not always easy
being a woman, Marco.

It's all about expectations.

My father expects me
to write about ponies,

meet a nice man, settle down
and give him grandchildren,

but that's not for me.

No, madame.

Miss Fix, you are naive
to the ways of the real world.

If your father wants you marrie,
you will be married.

Don't patronize me,
French person.

Besides, you know
nothing about me.

None of us know anything
about any of us.

I am a writer, Marco,
a good one.

I'm not sure how good yet,
but I'm going to find out.

If that means no husband
and no children, then so be it.

Very interesting, signorina,
but now I must play my--

You speak Italian?

Are there no ends
to your talent?

I was always
dreadful at languages.

I had this teacher
at school who once said--

[glass breaks]

♪♪♪♪♪

[grunts]

[Abigail] Stop fighting now!

[indistinct chatter]

[groans]

Did you really think
Fogg had it in him?

I'm not sure
I really considered it,

if I'm honest.

I just saw glory.

Me walking back
into the Reform Club

and everyone would be waving
their copies of The Telegraph

and there would be
my cheering father,

ridiculously proud of me.

Sorry.

What do you care?

You're going to leave us

when we get to Brindisi,
aren't you?

What makes you say that?

Because I think
you're the sort of man

who runs away
when things get difficult.

Well...

if you say so.

When your father died,
you ran away from France.

I think something
happened in London

and you're
running away from that.

And now you think
you'd be better off without us.

It is true that...

when life gets complicated,

I find somewhere where it is...

a little simpler.

By running away.

You think you're very wise.

Wiser than you.

Now I'm going to bed.

Thank you for fixing me...

Miss Fix.

I know you're grieving
for your brother

and I'm really sorry.

But I think it's much better
to talk about it

than goad some Italians
into beating you up.

Miss Fix.

Don't worry about Fogg.

I'll talk to him in the morning.

Thank you.

[birds chirping]

[train rumbling]

Here you are, sir.

Will you shave here

or shall we return
to your carriage?

Go away, Passepartout.

Miss Fix is worried about you.

It is of no interest to me

what Miss Fix does
or does not worry about.

Monsieur will feel better
after a shave.

Go away.

Monsieur.

Down the hatch?

Did you find him?

He's sitting
on the viewing platform

staring at the rails.

How did he seem?

Like a wet Sunday afternoon
in Nantes.

It looks like we bet
on the wrong horse, Miss Fix.

It happens.

[sighs]

I'm sorry, Mr. Fogg.

For what?

I think I got you
in trouble with my father.

Oh no, I should be
the one to apologize.

I made him angry with you.

I disappoint him.

I'm sure that's not true.

It is.

He thinks I'm weak, a coward.

Well, perhaps...

the opportunity for him
to see your courage

has not yet presented itself.

What was your father like,
Mr. Fogg?

My father?

He died a long time ago.

I can hardly remember.

Was he proud of you?

[chuckles]

The thing about Englishmen,
Alberto...

is that they're not
generally in a hurry

to share their feelings.

If you were my son,
I would be very proud of you.

Thank you.

When you get back to London
on Christmas Eve,

will you send me a postcard
to say you were successful?

Well...

I'm not quite sure I'm the man
for the job after all.

Maybe in a few years' time,

you can be
the first man to do it.

You could send me a postcard.

[train wheels screeching]

[all clamoring]

[screeching]

You should have asked,
mademoiselle.

I would have got you a spoon.

If you laugh, I'll kill you.

[indistinct chatter outside]

[man in Italian]

An earthquake
has cracked the bridge.

I'm sorry, everyone.

We will have to go back.

Perhaps this is the Fates
telling us to go home.

It certainly is not.

Tell him, Passepartout.

Tell him what, mademoiselle?

That it was crazy
from the start?

I think he knows.

You are both
completely hopeless.

[Alberto whimpering]

[Alberto wails, cries]

Are you a doctor?

We need to get him
to a hospital quickly.

That's six hours back to Rome.

He doesn't have six hours.

How far to Brindisi?

If we were that side
of the bridge, two hours.

But we are not
on that side of the bridge,

so it's impossible.

[crying]

[Alberto moans]

Technically, this is possible.

It wouldn't be without risk,
but it can be done.

I think it can be done.

Tell me.

All the carriages
but the last one

would have to be uncoupled.

Just the engine and one carriage
would go over the bridge.

The engine alone is 65 tons,
it would be madness.

Have you ever seen
the Lugar Viaduct?

I have.

160-foot piers,
completely hollow,

carrying the Glasgow
and South Western Railway

over the Lugar water.

The rivets and steel
don't provide the strength.

It's all about load and balance.

All the coal
and some of the water

will have to be jettisoned.

[Marco] That's insane.

If we did get over
the bridge,

we'd have no fuel
to get to Brindisi.

[Alberto] If Mister Fogg says
it can be done...

I believe.

[indistinct chatter]

Can you do it?

♪♪♪♪♪

Yes.

[Hughes] I distinctly remember
advising you

to be extremely wary

of investing all of your savings

in the American
railroad industry.

Yes, well. The question is,
what is to be done about it?

I don't understand.

You owe the bank 15,000 pounds.

Yes, but how do we
restructure the loan?

We don't restructure it,
Mr. Bellamy.

We call it in.

You are without savings
or investments.

You've never done
a day's work in your life,

as far as I can tell.

Well, of course I haven't.

We will give you a month
before we call in our loan.

That should give you
a little time to try

and raise some funds or
find alternative accommodation.

My house?

You will bankrupt me?

I rather fear
you've done that yourself.

I am coming into money.

On Christmas Eve,

I come into a considerable
amount of money.

How much?

More than enough to make
this unpleasantness go away.

Christmas Eve, you say?

Yes, if not before.
Or most definitely before.

And I have your word on this,
as a gentleman?

Of course.

All right, Mr. Bellamy.

The bank
will hold off foreclosure

until Christmas Day.

But not a day more.

Positions, everyone!

Passepartout,
take this bucket.

What?
Why do I need a bucket?

Sprinkle the sand on the rails

to stop the wheels
from spinning too fast.

With nothing but air under us,
we need friction

or the wheels will sheer
through the rails like butter.

[rails creak]

Come on. Come on!

Ready, Mr. Fogg.

Good. Now, I've worked out
the load exactly.

It is imperative nobody moves
until we're over the bridge.

When we're ready to leave,
I'll sound the whistle.

Ready, Passepartout?

Ready, Monsieur.

Here we go.

Stay still.

[train whistles]

Slowly.

Ease ahead.

Gently, now.

Good luck, Mr. Fogg!

Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Start to drop the sand.

[slow chugging]

[steam engine chugging]

We're going over.

I think it's working.

[wheels screeching]

Ah!

Mr. Fogg!

The wheels are spinning

and I've dropped the bucket!

Stop, stop, stop.

What is happening?

What is happening?

We're over the gap.

No sudden movements!

Merde.

Come on.

Come on!

[whispers prayer]

Where are you going?

Just give me second to think.

We need
more grip on the wheels.

Miss Fix?
I told you stay in position.

No, no! Absolutely not!

I promised your father!

I won't tell him if you won't.

No, Abigail!

You had one job.

We go again, monsieur!

Ready?

Slowly.

[wheels creaking]

[creaking]

[Fogg]
Slowly, slowly. Good.

[praying continues]

That's it, keep going.

Faster.

Open her up.
Let's push her through.

[steam engine puffing faster]

♪♪♪♪♪

[laughing, cheering]

-[whistle blows]
-[spectators cheer]

[cheering and applause]

♪♪♪♪♪

Good job, Miss Fix.

Never in doubt,
Monsieur Passepartout.

[engine slows down]

[wheels screeching]

Hey!

Don't stop here.

We have to keep going.

[Fogg] Not that simple.
We have no coal.

-I told you, Mr. Fogg.
-No, no, no.

We would never
have made it over

with that load of coal.

But coal is not the only fuel.

Come on, chop, chop.

[grunt of exertion]

[train chugging quickly]

[whistle blows]

What's the matter?

You did your calculations.

-Were they right?
-Yes.

Then believe in them.

I've never done
anything like this before.

Don't you dare give up now,
Mr. Fogg.

We all need you.

Yes.

[train chugging fast]

Don't let him sleep, monsieur.

Wake him up. Trust me.

[train rumbling]

♪♪♪♪♪

♪♪♪♪♪

[Alberto]
If anything is possible...

why not the moon?

Passepartout.

We're getting low on wood.

The driver thinks
he can't make it.

Do not let him sleep.

♪♪♪♪♪

[train chugging fast]

[engine slows down]

[indistinct chatter]

[engine hisses]

[driver shouts]

[man]

♪♪♪♪♪

[Moretti]

Wait until my father
reads about this.

[Alberto]

Fogg!

He won't leave
until he says something to you.

-[weakly] Mr. Fogg...
-What is it, Alberto?

I think you are...

exactly the man for the job.

♪♪♪♪♪

Crazy man.

But brilliant.

But crazy.

But brilliant.

What are you going to do?

Find out which one he is,
I suppose.

And you?

♪♪♪♪♪

I nearly got us all killed.

But you didn't.

You saved a boy's life.

It could so easily
have gone the other way.

But it didn't.

If a mere valet could interrupt

and make a suggestion, sir?

If we are going,
we only have ten minutes

to make the connection
for the steamer to Suez.

You really think we should?

Oui, Monsieur.

I think we should.

So do I.

[Fogg] Arabia?

[Abigail] Onwards.

[Passepartout]

[ship horn honks]

[man, in Arabic]

[in English]
From a Mr. Bellamy, sir.

In London.

♪♪♪♪♪

[theme music plays]