Original subtitles

November in Connecticut.

The last glories of an Indian summer are about to give way to winter.

A young girl is showing a visitor around the grounds.

I come to the country to get back in touch with nature, the fields, the

away from all those false trappings of civilization.

Thunder in the mountains, lightning in the black of midnight.

The wilderness howls and something in me howls with it.

I'm one with the primal chaos.

Is that Walt Whitman?

You like the country.

I hate the country.

I like poetry.

If you hate the country, then why do you come here?

Because I have to.

I'm sorry. This is a bad day.

No, I'm sorry.

Shall I go?

It doesn't matter.

It's going to be a bad day no matter what.

I might as well have some company.

Well, indoors has its pleasures, too. A crackling fire, a book of verse to stir

the soul, fine brandy to warm the innards.

Civilization beckons.

Thank you, Vernon.

I wonder if Mother's down yet.

It's really cool in here.

Shall I get those windows?

Let them stay open, please.

Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize.

I thought I heard voices earlier.

How do you do?

Jane didn't tell me that she was expecting Gap.

I came unannounced. My name is Gregory Sadler. I'm staying at the Pollocks.

They left me your name and suggested that I call.

Jane, you should have told me that Mr. Sadler was here. Oh, Gregory, please.

The least we could do is offer you some refreshment.

Vernon took it away almost as soon as he brought it in. Show a little respect,

young lady.

Vernon goes a long way back in this family. Oh, Jane has taken great care to

entertain me.

Jane gets lonely in the country.

Don't you, darling?

Well, there's no need to sulk and pout.

My goodness, any smart young lady would give anything in the world to spend a

week at leisure in this house.

Well, you have no choice in the matter anyway.

This is a very special day.

You realize that, don't you, Jane?

Yes, Mother.

It's a ritual.

An annual ritual that means a great deal to me.

Excuse me. My headache is killing me. I've got to get an aspirin.

You know you're expected to dress for dinner, Jane. Yes, ma 'am.

Nice to have met you, Gregory.

I'm sure.

She hates me.

Oh, I'm sure that's not true.

What's this ritual she's talking about? It sounds fascinating.

It's not.

It's...

Something I'd rather not talk about, okay?

Well... I'd much rather talk about you.

Well, tell me more about yourself.

Unless I'm wrong, you're still in school.

No choice.

You don't like it?

Oh, sure.

I love wearing a white blouse and a blue sweater and a gray flannel skirt to my

knees. Do you play obsession?

A uniform?

Your school still has uniforms?

Knee socks and tie shoes.

Right up till graduation.

Do you want to play?

Oh, I don't know that game.

What about Othello?

Okay.

Well, I'm sure you get a very good education for all that.

I'd much rather travel.

I have friends in Paris and Istanbul.

Really?

I'll go see them.

I'll go live there.

I'm not surprised school seems dull, given your cosmopolitan perspective.

Google, I didn't do that very well, did I?

Well, I find ways to amuse myself.

I have friends.

We get together.

Biding my time till I get free.

Look, could we play instead of talking?

Could we talk instead of playing?

Sure.

What about you?

What do you like to do?

Oh, my life wouldn't interest you very much.

Sure, it would.

How old are you?

31.

I'm a teacher, or at least I used to be.

College? The last place was rather like your school, or so it sounds.

Girls' school?

Girls, yes.

Oh, that's how you know about knee socks.

My subject was English poetry.

She knew the lifelong martyrdom, the weariness, the pain of waiting for a man

come, who ne 'er would come again, and so on and so forth. She was a long

fellow. I know.

I thought there was something poetic about you when you were talking about

wilderness and wild animals.

I could feel your passion.

What are you trying?

Never mind.

Oh, come on, show me. Let me see. No, not yet.

Why did you leave?

What?

School.

A slight misunderstanding.

Nothing,

really.

Say I graduated.

What are you doing here in the country?

I am spending a very special afternoon with you.

I mean, what are you doing here at all?

Why are you here at all, not somewhere else?

Not... I don't know.

For the very same reason that you are, I suppose.

You have no idea why I'm here.

Tell me.

Because of her.

Your mother?

Yes.

What's the trouble with her?

Why does she talk to you the way she does?

She spent all afternoon upstairs.

What's going on here?

What's the matter with everybody?

It's the anniversary.

Your mother and father?

No, not that.

She divorced him years ago.

Why?

He was gentle and poetic.

She said he was weak.

What is today?

Apparently, it's something special in this house, and I've come at the wrong

time.

It's the first day of the hunting season.

My mother's second husband, my stepfather, kept this house for sporting

purposes, or so he said.

I don't understand.

I suppose you may as well know.

It's her secret, not mine.

He loved to hunt.

Grouse, especially.

Every year on the first day of the hunting season, he set out at the crack

dawn to shoot birds.

Oh, my mother would kill me.

I won't tell a soul I hope to die.

That's not the point.

It was three years ago.

He had a son, Stanley.

Ever since Stanley was a little boy, they went hunting together.

He adored my stepfather, looked just like him, acted like him.

They even dressed alike.

That day, my mother and I stood there and watched them tramp across that field

into those woods.

Chase, our dog, had a special little bell so they could always tell where he

was. We could hear it as they went.

They had shotguns and enough provisions for the day.

We didn't expect them home till late afternoon.

They always tried to get the limit My mother went upstairs to rest I don't

remember what I did

Sometime later, I remember hearing shots.

But I'm not sure.

Then I know I heard a dog howling.

My mother heard it, too.

She came downstairs with a worried look on her face.

It was already 5 .30. They weren't home yet.

Was there an accident?

We tried to piece it together later on.

Nobody knows for sure.

It happened at the far edge of those woods.

Maybe my stepfather wanted one more bird.

Maybe he just heard a noise in the brush.

Or maybe he stumbled.

At any rate, he fired.

There was a cry.

A human cry.

He dropped his gun and he ran.

It was Stanley.

Dead.

My stepfather knelt down.

Imagine his feelings.

He'd killed his only son.

My mother and I knew there was something wrong when the men didn't come home on

time.

We sent the gardener out to check, but nobody could believe it when he came

weeping 40 minutes later and said that he'd found Chase whimpering over two

bodies.

My stepfather had killed himself.

My mother couldn't take it in.

They carried the bodies in canvas sacks right below that open window.

My mother stood there and didn't see them.

She gazed across the field, into the woods, sure that they would appear at

moment, still alive, decked with game, caked with mud, tramping towards us,

crying, crack the ice, we're home!

That was their great joke.

Ice for drinks.

Crack the ice, we're home.

That's a terrible story.

Now you know.

Were you very close to them?

No.

My stepfather was arrogant.

I don't know how my mother could have married him.

Why did she?

For the money, the position.

This house?

My real father cared about people.

He cared about life.

My mother couldn't stand that.

And that's not the worst part.

For the past three years, we've had to come back to this house for a whole

I've begged her to sell it. She knows I hate the place.

She knows they're dead.

But on this day, she throws open the windows at dawn and then goes upstairs

wait for their headaches.

I think she's waiting for them to come back.

But that's insane.

Still here, Gregory.

Yes.

Jane must be particularly captivating today.

Well, she can be very charming when she tries.

And today is a very special occasion.

You know, Gregory, grouse hunters are a very dedicated lot.

Some people might even think they're insane, all that waiting around and so

little to show for it.

But when you marry into a household like this, you have to learn to cope. You

know, to rise to the occasion and catch a little of the excitement. I have.

Jane, of course, has not.

Oh, yes.

My husband, Stuart, and his son, Stanley, love to hunt.

It's all they ever talk about.

Not for it, in fact.

They've been out all day now, but they'll be back soon.

Coming out of those woods, across that field, covered with mud and gore, and

grinning from ear to ear.

You'll know it's them when you hear the dog's bell, and then you'll hear their

great cry, Crack the ice, we're home!

Thirsty for drinks, you see.

Crack the ice, we're home!

Why didn't you stay for dinner?

Oh, no, I couldn't.

The Pollocks were kind enough to leave our name. You were nice enough to use

The least we can do is look after you.

Oh, I really wouldn't want to put you in any bother.

Oh, it's no bother at all. We can always find room for another one for dinner.

Uh, Jane!

I see you've made quite a hit with Jane.

Mother, how can you?

What?

Never mind. I'm in a party mood.

Every now and again, I enjoy the company of men like you, Gregory.

You have a certain...

air about you.

Stuart and Stanley would be so sorry to miss you. You mustn't disappoint them.

The first day of the hunt is such a thrill.

They come home full of excitement.

They love an audience to regale with their adventures.

It's settled. I'll go tell the cook.

What's wrong with her?

And I do. She's my mother. She'd be lost without me. She's lost already, believe

me. I've got experience in these matters. I know more than you think.

before she pulls you down with her. What? Come away with me now, this

That's crazy.

Don't be shocked.

It's your only hope. Seize this chance while you've got it. I understand what

you're going through, and I want to help.

But run away?

I was in a situation just like this. When I was teaching, I felt cornered,

trapped. The pressure was insane.

Only I didn't have your chance to escape, so I cracked from the pressure.

You what? I had a nervous breakdown.

Oh, my God.

Well, it doesn't show because I've had extensive treatment.

That's why I've come to the country to have a peaceful, quiet place to stay.

When I get out of the... Well, for the past year, I've been in an institution.

You mean you're really sick?

Wise, please. I'm better now.

I tell you this because of what you told me so that you'll understand that I

know what you're going through and can help.

It began with these tension headaches.

What I needed was good physical exercise, and I wasn't getting it.

The problem was that I couldn't sleep.

But I'm over that. What about the headaches?

They're gone.

It was only with all that girlish laughter, that hubbub.

But I'm afraid my teaching suffered.

That's why I left.

My best girls, seniors, came to me after class for clarification. I wasn't being

clear.

I had always been known for my utter clarity and precision.

I don't understand. Why did this happen?

It's not important.

It's over.

Look, you can see, I'm fine.

No signs of strain. My doctors are proud of me. You need my help.

I can't run away with you.

I'm too young.

But you said yourself you hate this house. Your mother's out of her mind.

School has nothing to offer you. I could teach you so much more. We'll get away

tonight. I'm sick and tired of this awful country.

This peace and quiet is driving me crazy.

All those trees.

Red and gold.

Awful. We'll travel. London, Paris, even Istanbul.

You name it, we'll go there. Don't even bother to pack.

I'll buy you new clothes.

You'll be safe with me. You'll be happy with me. Quick, before your mother comes

back. Say yes.

I don't know what to say.

I'm very sorry.

I meant it, but I am really very sorry.

All set.

What?

Coke says we have plenty to eat. We'll set another plate.

Oh, yes.

Dinner.

Dinner?

I've got to go upstairs.

And change.

Well.

You've certainly had a wonderful effect on that young lady.

That's the first time I've ever heard her volunteer to go and change without

insistent complaining.

Really, she provokes me into being such a shrew. And I'm not. Really, I'm not.

You know, I think she's a little infatuated with you.

Oh, I hadn't considered that.

No, of course you haven't.

You're an adult, mature.

She's still a child.

Tell me about yourself, Gregory.

Who are you?

Oh, there's nothing much to tell.

Where do you live?

Nowhere, really.

Yes, of course, but you must have an address.

I spent the last year in Switzerland.

Really? How marvelous.

Skiing? Oh, no, no, no. Nothing like that.

I should say resting.

Oh, you lucky man.

I keep saying to my husband, Stuart, we...

We really must get away for a long, long vacation together.

Just the two of us.

And unfortunately, he hasn't been able to get away for the last three years.

Oh, thank you, Vernon.

What did you do before you went abroad, Gregory?

It's not important.

Don't be shy.

You've piqued my curiosity.

I was a teacher. English, poetry.

She knew the lifelong martyrdom, the weariness, the pain.

And so on and so forth.

Longfellow.

No wonder Jane's infatuated with you.

My first husband, her father, was the poetic type.

All thighs and moony glances.

No time for the basic bedrock of getting and spending that makes the world go

round.

She's never forgiven me for divorcing her father.

Yes, she mentioned something about it.

She said that you had been rather under a strain.

Did she?

No, Richard.

I wish she'd come down.

Of course, I didn't mean that the way it sounded.

It's perfectly natural for her to love her father and take a passing fancy to

you.

But I need her.

She's growing up too fast.

I respect her true essence.

I couldn't stand that.

Maybe we should change her school.

Or take her out of school altogether.

To run wild?

Absolutely not.

Though a change is possible.

Perhaps your school's too rigid.

What about your school? Are you going back there?

I don't know.

I couldn't say.

Oh, it's going to be a magnificent sunset.

Dinner after the first day of the hunt is always such a feat.

With any luck at all, they'll come across that field absolutely covered in

birds.

First time I saw them, I was in shock, I can tell you. I thought, what have I

married? My husband looking like some kind of savage, all covered in blood and

feathers.

I've got to get out of here.

Of course not. You're staying for dinner. I can't.

Please, come with me.

But we've been all through that, Gregory.

We're going to have such fun.

Please, I can't handle this by myself.

Good evening, Brent.

At last.

My, don't you two look a sight.

Gregory, come meet the hunters.

Jane, where's Gregory?

What's the matter with that man? He was supposed to stay for dinner.

It was Chase, Mother.

I should have warned him. Gregory was terrified of dogs.

He told me he was walking with a girl in the country once, and they were

attacked by a pack of wild dogs.

He ran, but she got caught.

The dogs ripped her apart.

Gregory loved that girl. No wonder he was upset.

Did you have a good time?