All language subtitles for Providence (1977) [Alain Resnais]

Damn, damn, damn!

Damn!

Surely the facts are
not in dispute?

This man...

a harmless enough old
creature by all accounts

was running away
from an army patrol.

He was sick, terrified.

You're hurt...

Please!

And you killed him,
did you not?

He was mortally wounded
when I found him.

And you Kevin Woodford took it upon
yourself to put him out of his pain.

He said he was dying,
he begged me to finish him off.

A sick old man...

frightened...

doubted himself out of his wits.

No doctor present?
No medical orderlies?

We hope not many such
fall into your hand.

It wasn't just his bullet
wounds from the patrol.

Really?

His illness...

he had...

he was...

turning into an animal.

Are you being metaphorical Woodford?

Or are you suggesting some
kind of actual metamorphosis?

A werewolf.

A werewolf perhaps?

Well, well, well.

Changing...

It seemed to me

into some kind of animal.

How extraordinary!

Well...

That obviously justified you
finishing him off, didn't it?

I'm not saying that.

We shall not try to penetrate the odd
recesses of your imagination Woodford.

We shall ask you exactly what you
are trying to saying about his death.

Did you feel you personally
have the right

to arbitrate on a matter
of life and death?

Please!

I was confused.

As indeed I'm sure we all
are in this court today.

- But it wasn't murder.
- But you did shoot him?

Yes.

And you seriously plea that
this was an act of mercy?

Yes.

Well as in the eyes of the law
it was plain homicide.

I was confused.

As indeed I'm sure we all
are in this court today.

- But it wasn't murder.
- But you did shoot him?

Yes.

And you seriously plea that
this was an act of mercy?

Yes.

Well as in the eyes of the law
it was plain homicide.

I think maybe...

people should be allowed
to die the way they choose.

Ah, I see.

An expose of some higher moral law
to which you have privileged access.

I wouldn't say that exactly.

No, but some moral argument

which exonerates you
from the charge of murder.

- I'd say that. Yes, I would.
- Hmm, I see.

So you feel that your
action lies outside

the inadequate and pathetic
assumption of this court...

that wilful slaughter
is murder?

Why are you so
contemptuous?

The idiosyncratic notions of moral law
which exist within the accused's head

are not our concern.

However innocent he is
within his own eyes,

he is guilty before the
laws of the state.

We are here to decide not whether
his action was justifiable,

nor even comprehensible,

only if it is criminal.

We have the medical evidence
here of Dr. Mark Eddington.

We have the accused's own word.

And we have the unequivocal
nature of the law of the state.

I'm assure the ladies and
gentlemen of the jury...

I'm sure that your
conclusions

must be...

inevitable.

Oh, Sonia!

Why did you marry that petrified
lawyer, the son of mine.

I tried to warn you...

It'll have to be rewritten

in so little time.

And...

Oh shit!

It's Mark Eddington.

Damn it, I'll make you
a friend of Claude's.

I haven't seen you for ages.

What did you make
of that, then?

Well, you've seen Claude
prosecuting before.

He was hateful today,
I'm furious!

I wouldn't say that...

Fury in Claude isn't
like most people,

comes out ice-cold,

logical.

The jury was obviously
sympathetic to that boy.

And it's not Claude's way to
let that confuse the issue.

What a strange young man.

Funny sort of crank
to find in the army.

Crank? I thought what
he did was brave.

- Well I...
- Mark.

You're going to have lunch
with Claude and me.

Come on, join us at Luigi's
in about half an hour.

- Yes, fine, I'd love to.
- Ya, alright.

But dear I'd...
Oh.

Sonia!

Wait a minute!

But what are you in my
scheme of things Eddington?

The Jolly old, bloody old
doctor character?

God forbid...

Here he is again!

Never liked you Eddington,

never understood what
Claude saw in you.

I'm getting rid of you at once.

Sonia!

Here now...

What she...

Of course, she's intrigued.

She wants to meet that
Kevin Woodford.

I get it. He wants to cut me up.

Shall we let him try?

Wait a minute though...

right hospital,
wrong pathologist.

Wasn't Eddington going to
lunch with Sonia and Claude?

Oh, get out of my mind!

I regret nothing! Damn and blast you!

My love and respect
for the human body...

the hard muscle,

fine skin.

At Cap Ferrat, those days
salty and strong out of the sea.

Not a vain man, well...

"Ugly", Molly used to say.

Green,

but handsome in your
own fashion Clive Langham.

I loved the sun, loved
the cold wine...

Christ, I can taste it now!

God, what a tailor's dummy he is.

Your mother...

Ah, Molly where are you?

She always had the wine chilled
to exactly the right temperature.

And prawns
red in their shells.

Yes, I see her laughing there
on the terrace in the sun.

We...

Can't you take a hint?

Didn't I say bugger off!

You think this horrifies me?

All the pain before I care about.

Well, there's the
morphine I suppose...

Verdict: "Not guilty"

There wasn't a jury in there.

There was a twelve man
law reform commission.

I wonder why Sonia
asked me to lunch.

Well, why shouldn't she?

She's always seeking
allies these days.

What's the matter with you?

We've know each
other for thirty years

and trusted each
other for nearly ten.

It was a command really.

Are you and she in
some sort of crisis?

Oh, for Christ's sake Mark, really!

She always thinks I'm prosecuting her
when she sees me in court.

Do you resent the
boy getting off free?

Well, I have no things
about him whatsoever.

What about losing the case?

Oh, I think my reputation
will stand up.

Where the hell is she?

Look, I'm going to have a pee
and then I'm going to order.

Oh, I got another of those telegrams
this morning from my father.

He's still dying,
of course.

I've never known anyone take
quite so long about it.

And do it in such good health.

Claude.

I thought you might like to
meet Kevin Woodford.

I have met him.

To apologize for your aggressiveness
in court, I thought.

I was just going for a pee.

- Why did you whether bring you here?
- I don't mind where I go.

I never mind where I am.

Oh dear!
I think he's fey.

It's always tiresome.

You are fey aren't you?

Oh, I know that you
have inner peace.

That usually implies no powers
of rational thinking.

Whatsoever...

I don't feel like lunch today...

suddenly.

Oh Hell!

These places are almost becoming
de rigueur as fear symbols.

Jolly well, bloody old
de rigueur, eh.

Well, if one's had
a fatuous life

one might as well have
fatuous nightmares.

But I am frightened.

You will not get me,
you fucking bastards!

That's right children,
go in, go in.

Why not in Claude's house?

Let battle commence!

Yes.

In here.

Bang on Clive Langham!
Get it down!

No.

No, stop...

it could seem vulgar.

And must not!

Now, that's fascinating.

Yes, I approve of that.

Do get on with it children.

My god, he doesn't look
as if it's urgent though...

Not angry when rejected...

but wistful.

Good, good.

But what about the
tyrannical lawyer himself?

Where would he be?

OK, so in his office then.

And furthermore father since there is
no point in telephoning you,

far less in visiting you, which
would only be exposing ourselves

to our now familiar
mutual recriminations.

Damn it all father,
you're a rich man!

If you must do your
dying with such a...

disgusting lack of dignity.

Why don't you do it in
a nursing home?

Or some such place...

Where they can
stand in...

amazed, well paid tolerance,

while you shout and drink and
protest your way to death's dark door.

The silence when you reach
the other side will be our

only reassurance that
you're actually gone.

And I could add...

I could add...

When you find yourself
potentially alone.

You sod!

You odious, sanctimonious,
stiff-necked little crumb.

I'm not having this, by god!

Watch it Langham.

The blood pressure...

I mean to say...

If I don't know how to die,
at least I knew how to live.

But what about that mistress
of yours, my son?

What did I do with her?

Don't tell me I mislaid her.

I-diddle-i-de a drunken life for me.

Damned it I'm giving you
to the dreaded Claude.

I could do with you myself...

if I could just get off this bed,
out of this coffin of a room.

Yes, you'll do for the moment.

You can be Claude's mistress.

Quick, quick, quick,
first name into the mind...

Helen...

Wiener

Ya.

Intellectual journalist.

Goes to conferences on every bloody
thing, that's you Helen Wiener.

Just another wee drinkie whilst
they get you onto terra firma.

Did you know...

Did you know,

those astronauts who've
been to the moon

It's had a peculiar effect
on some of them.

Lurching about on a lump of
frozen rock hanging in space.

Claude's due back.

I think of God's eyes
watching them.

A pair of huge brilliant eyes somewhere
out there beyond the sun,

brighter then the sun.

Kevin, I'm not overawed
by the universe.

It's a very peaceful place
you have here,

you and Claude should like it
quite a lot I should imagine.

And you also imagine that we
should get out before he arrives?

I've never done this before.

I always thought if I did it would be
somewhere else and in the sweat of guilt.

On his account...

I'm quite easy in
most situations.

You see there's every indication
that some of the astronauts

have been profoundly disturbed
by going out there.

- Kevin.
- Yes?

Why are you so bloody obsessed
by the fucking astronauts?

Why do you go on
about the astronauts?

Well I think it all
has its poetic side.

Clomping about under
the stars and so on.

Sod the moon.

No poetry there anymore.

Another of those stabbing
pains right up the arse!

Then another stinger
coming right down the spine.

Meet the one from
the backside.

Out there...

in the icy universe...

there's nothing.

Physiological disaster...

there'll be some reddish brown stains
on the underpants yesterday.

No more doctors!

I suppose he'd meet his
mistress in a motel.

No...

Here, Claude, here.

You can't, not now.

Mustn't go home.

It's inconvenient.

Or is it...

Now...

Am I springing Claude on them?

It will give me no end of fun.

With me it was almost
the other way round,

husbands catching me
with their wifes.

Bang, thump, wallop.
Down you go Langham.

Always the bungler...

Never caught anyone with my wife.

I don't actually smell sex.

Hasn't there been any?

You should meet my brother.

He'd take it just like you,
he's a famous footballer.

The telephone...
Why not?

What would you say was
interesting about him?

I mean, what exactly is the
point about him, his attraction?

Any clues about yourself, Woodford?

Any ideas...

If your wife's attracted to me,
I think that's your problem not mine.

I don't I've ever been
a problem have I, Claude?

Problems have a way of acquiring
status in a relationship you see.

Hello.

Helen.

Where?

No, I'm having a drink in the
bedroom with my wife,

and the young man
she seems keen on.

Now?

Yes.

Right away.

Who's Helen?

I despise you Woodford.

I'm sorry about that.

He's frightfully unattractive.

I mean, it doesn't matter whether
you're good enough for my wife...

but are you good enough for me?

I really don't think so.

Who is Helen?

I don't remember.

I don't remember...

I think he'd better get off
and meet old Helen.

Oh, there goes
another thing.

Slip the suppository
into position.

No such luck for me,
a sudden coronary.

No, it has to be...

slow, squalid and messy things.

Live by the guts and
die by the guts.

Now let science soothe
the troubled rectum.

And back to business...

I-diddle-i-de-ti-tum-ti-tum-ti-tum.

Who does not know the mixture of fear and
excitement of going to meet an old flame.

Carrying one's thundering prick...

Already composing
the get out clauses,

just in case she's cooked up
an actual demand,

or the erstwhile reliable
member should fail

in it's exquisite duties.

And what's more
if the new encounter

should turn out disastrous
from the word "Go".

Will one be able to get rid of her
with a dash of style?

A little panache?

Not you Woodford,
damn and bugger you!

Christ he's intractable this one.

I'll never get the hang of him.

Out! Out!

She looks like his mother.

Clearly the boy must have
an unconscious mind,

just like everybody else.

Oh, Molly...

You look well.

I'm dying.

Have you ever heard
of an allegedly...

famous footballer...

called Woodford?

How's your wife?

I'm thinking of killing
this footballer's brother.

It's one of those rare, slow, deadly
diseases you can have without knowing.

Then it suddenly accelerates and
nothing can stop it, or reverse it.

Suddenly you are
not just ageing,

you are irrevocably dying.

How's your father?

He's still dying.

Well, he's an old man.

There is no necessary connection
between one's age

and the length of time
taken to die.

I am told I have about six months.

Maybe a year...

We must make the most of it.

What a bastard!

Great! Smashing!

Of course it's been said about
my work that the search for style

has often resulted
in a want of feeling.

My goodness, does he
find this erotic?

However but I'd put it another
way I'd say that,

style is feeling,

Its most elegant and
economic expression.

Ten out of ten, Clive Langham.

Christ, it's the bloody footballer,
the dreaded younger Woodford!

He can't just, just trundle in here
and take a shower.

Can he?

So what to do?

I suppose we could start up
again in another hotel.

We could live together.

And leave Sonia?

To watch me die?

Shouldn't everyone live as
if they're about to die,

not next week, nor
next month but now?

Anyway...

it's impossible.

So how do you and Sonia live?

In a state of unacknowledged mutual
exhaustion behind which we scream

silently.

Sounds binding.

I learnt self control as a reaction
against my father, it started as a habit

then became a trap.

We squirmed...

How did you get out?

Maybe you really scream...

No, I never have...

No, you have to have a big passion,
a compelling reason.

I've had neither of those...

neither, I think, has she.

How glad I am

I chose to live alone,

right from the beginning.

Are you?

I feel nothing at all.

He can say that again.

Damn!

He'll be bloody well
blind anyway.

Poor Claude!

What a thin owlish little sod
you were at school.

Prig from the
word "Go."

Ought we not always to live
as if one's going to die.

Eyes like marbles.

"Why haven't you got the
Nobel Prize daddy?"

"Our English master says you aren't
nearly as good as Graham Greene."

Beset the bugger, say I.

Some of us, fuckface, wonder why Graham
Greene hasn't got the Nobel Prize either.

He once offered to teach me
how to masturbate.

Your father?

I was deeply shocked.

He'll have to go into a
nursing home, of course.

Eight housekeepers
in five months.

Nobody tries still...

he tries to screw them.

You are not going to put that extraordinary
old man in a nursing home.

That purely incontinent,
ageing infant!

You just resent his independence,
just as you'd resent mine,

if I had any.

You're not a husband or a son,
you're a goddamn jailer.

How's Kevin?

And being a goddamn jailer is the
nearest thing you've got to an instinct.

You must want him very much.

Well I don't want you very much.

Not anymore...

You must be forcefully
attracted to him.

I want...

I want...

I suppose you fancy he's got the
poetic spirit, or something like that.

I want...

I would like...

I...

I...

I!

First person singular!

Do I have to oppose you to
reassure myself that I exist?

Let's just say there's something
in Kevin that intrigues me.

In him?

You mean inside him?

A kind of visionary?

Funny pictures, in his head?

Chubby little people with wings?

Get out.

Get out!

Get out!

Now look I do insist...

We must do something about father.

When will you pull
yourself together?

You're always sniveling.

Shall we never be free of you?

Well, yes father I...

I admire your books very much.

I think you're a very fine writer indeed.

And I hope that you die with every
nerve end in your body shrieking.

When will you pull yourself together?
You're always sniveling.

Shall we never be free of you?

Yes, father I...

well, yes I do...

He's improving, improving.

So now...

How about a half of
cold champagne.

Petite truffles.

Damn footballer, must've got
lost in that hotel somewhere.

Molly...

If you're out there in the
cosmic dark somewhere,

don't wait for me.

I'm not coming.

There we go...

the tremors, the warnings.

Once death seemed like a gentlest
earthquake of the system,

but now...

gathering force,
after the years.

What I really mean to
say Molly is, of course,

I'd prefer not to come.

I think we'll try this one again.

How's Helen?

He killed her.

Father killed her really.

Those holidays of
ours at Cap Ferrat.

He tortured her.

He was always randy
when he had a hangover.

There's a chap in football gear...

jogging along the street.

I haven't been...

no, I wouldn't say
bored with you.

Self eliminating, yes.

Clever of you to catch
me at seventeen.

Well I've been dreaming
you'd wake up.

You became my authority.

There's a deep sadness...

You remain my only authority...

As if dreaming is my only
real level of existence.

And so I passed from childhood,
more or less...

to wifehood?

Without the tiresome
intervention of a....

developing personality in between.

I'm not a person...

I'm a fucking construction.

Yours...

Was...

After certain dreams nothing in waking
life can have such intensity.

Even if it's a common fiction,

it's still poignant.

One thinks...

ho-hum.

You might as well drink my drink too.

Not Molly!

You can't have my wife!

Do I resemble your mother?

There's something...

Mugged!

Yes, mugged!

This city is definitely falling to pieces.

All hell out there sometimes.

My last conscious words were...

On the question of subatomic
particles, gentlemen...

One gets confused by
what is infinitely small,

and what is infinitely large.

The mind buckles...

the head aches...

Much more violently than
the impact of your fists.

gentlemen.

So this is how it was?

This is how it was.

Nothing can compare with the
memories of childhood.

And yours and mine of each others...

I think I began to love you because
I knew straight away you wouldn't...

invade me,

colonize me.

Not some kind of moral achievement
on your part, it's just that I...

suppose you simply exhausted
your prejudices on your wife.

How penetrating.

Truly, I wouldn't have lived
as I have if I'd met you first.

I now look back on all those years
with bitter scepticism.

I'm ready to defect.

It's a little late.

Aren't you rather letting yourself
down by saying that?

I thought you were bored and
disgusted by the idea of living

with someone continuously.

How you and father
would have fought.

There's a terrific fire across the city,
the sky's red for miles.

Are you still here?

What are your opinions on adultery?

Do you care about
the nature of things?

Have you got a philosophical bent?

Do you worry?

What do you think of
my wife's body?

It isn't the point.

I beg your pardon?

Let me put it this way...

It isn't the point.

Did you hear that old boy?

She has a concise way
of putting things.

Well what do you make of it?

What do you make of love?

How'd you like to run
away with her?

There's no need to run anywhere.

I've already left you,
so why run?

We can manage perfectly
well just as we are.

See if you can cope,
I'd be fascinated.

You will continue to exert
self-control I'm sure.

The chap's an enigma,

he really is.

She is an enterprising fuck
though, isn't she?

I'm always content where I am.

My husband you see Kevin, Claude,
is committed to self control.

He exaggerates of course,
it's a performance.

If you knew him you'd realize
he has no emotions to control.

My wife has turned your head.

Oh yes she has...

I can tell the signs.

Woodford! Don't go to sleep!

I know you have inner peace...

And you have inner stagnation.

Childhood is shattering.

I can see that you must
have got off to a bad start.

But you've got more than your fair
share of inner peace, old boy.

You'll have to be put down.

"Like a mad dog" as they say.

Sonia!

Put him down at once.

- Where's the lady?
- Going for a swim.

- Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
- I get around.

Aren't you the famous footballer?

Or is it cricket?

Steady.

I believe I'm the affronted party.

After all it is your brother who's
screwing my wife, isn't it.

He's not screwing anybody,
isn't Kevin.

Do you spend very much time jogging
about town dressed like that?

Oh, training are we?

Big match coming on.

I'm very famous indeed, see.

And an equally serious occupation
of mine is taking care of our Kevin.

He needs it, he needs it...

Our childhood Mr. Langham...

we was brought up like pigs.

My goodness!

You do seem to be a very
serious sort of chap.

It's a fine game, football,
beautiful to watch.

Well, you know...

I mean as a general activity
it seems meaningless,

but the form, pattern,
is elegant.

If it is football...

Choreographically there's
plenty of poetry there.

Plenty, plenty...

Oh, when one gets hold
of the ball, and...

tickles it along...

Can I do anything for you
famous footballer?

Ah, this'll never do.

Won't do at all!

Can't have people thumping
our poor old bloody Claude.

Can we...

Oh, for Christ's sake.

The pains are banging in my neck
like sodding tom-toms.

Oh, is it the arteries?

Or the jugular...

Going to burst?

Then spew out,

living, red juice.

Helen?

Molly?

The pains are catching up with me.

In the end I shall call for morphine.

No hero, not heroic, never was...

Do you see Molly, they're taking
some of them away.

But not you my love.

No...

What a punctual fellow you are.

Come on.

Miss Boon.

Ah Miss Boon, how erotic
you look this morning.

This is my friend Woodford.

He used to be in the army.

But now he's nothing more,
nor less, than a failed astronaut.

That's his, his brother Dave.

The famous footballer.

What can I do for you
Mr. Langham and...

or Mr. Woodford?

Well you see...

frankly...

my wife is thinking of taking
him away with her.

He has to be taken otherwise
he'd never go.

He's never had the urge for...

Bangkok

Venice

Tokyo

any of those places
you and I would

side for.

Woodford, sit down and
explain your problem!

Well...

It all started after his wife had
asked me out to lunch.

I'd just been acquitted of murder.

What's more...

I think that he and Sonia should
have a quiet, beautiful place

where they can fuck,
night and day.

A sort of backdrop
of a place...

I don't even know
his wife, not really.

Nonetheless, bundle him
out of the country we must

before I shoot him.

Do you approve of
violence Miss Boon?

Certainly not!

Neither do I.

It reeks of spontaneity.

Come, come, young Buddha.

Right...

now...

Yes...

Where was I?
In the travel agent...

In case there's a myocardial
infarction, but patient...

No...

Jesus! That was a spear of fire.

So...

Dress the creature will you.

What was that Mr. Langham?

Dress the creature!
Don't bugger about.

He can't walk with my wife
dressed like that.

Yes, Mr. Langham.

Dress not the humble exterior clay
Mr. Jennings, but the man within.

Oh come, come, come.

I have to leave for my
gunmaker by noon.

Your father rang yesterday,
ordered a dozen shirts.

Shirts?

He should be ordering shrouds.

Yes, yes into bed...

Ah, there that's better.

A little whisky this time?

Why not?

Where do they say the
thrombosis, the symptoms?

Now, there's a symptom my my
such a type is this?

Now just look at that Clive Langham.

If that isn't quite something
of a heart, eh?

Marvellous to behold,
stiff as a...

Watch out! Watch out!

You look very cool this morning.

Very lovely.

Those gloves...

Molly was always fond of
wearing gloves like those

in the summer,

at the races.

- Who?
- What?

Molly?

I don't know anyone called Molly.

- But you just said...
- I can't remember what I just said.

How curious.

You see, Molly was
Claude's mother,

she committed suicide.

Because well, as it turned out she was
already dying and in great pain.

Claude, of course, considers her death
as crucial evidence against his father.

How strange.

So is this...

What?

I've got an erection.

Oh, so you have.

Is it urgent?

It isn't mine.

Then who's is it Woodford?

I mean if it's going to
break up my marriage

we have the right
to know the culprit.

You can't just bring your erection
into my marriage Woodford

and then disown it.

Your own flesh and blood.

Do you think he resembles
the elder Langham?

He was prone to random erections,
that's one thing I do know.

I'm quite prepared to be civilized
about the whole business.

I though to it might help keep my
own pecker up, as you might say

If I invited my mistress.

Oh, that ridiculous word.

Our dear Molly, of the long
white summer gloves.

You met her, she must've
had about thirty pairs.

I would say that anyone that
would take you on in that role

must be nothing short of heroic.

Could she be conducting some obscure
form of research, I wonder?

Dear Helen, what a crusader
for women's rights she was.

In her time...

And how nice to be able to relax
when one's intellectual convictions,

now and then, with the man
who finds them so unconvincing.

Do you know Woodford,
I even detest the way you eat.

Do you like the
way he masticates?

I'm more interested in
how he fornicates.

I'm more interested in
how he fornicates...

Splendid word.

Fornicates.

Yes...

Twilight

Dawn

How darkness creeps
into the blood.

Darkness...

the chill of obsidian fingers.

A little more venom children.

A little more violence.

Not hard to come by...

Violence...

is quite unnecessary.

Rows, scenes, exhibitions.

I myself posses nothing
with such tenacity,

that I cannot
bear its loss.

On the other hand...

I cannot lose with such equanimity
that I will not have my say.

Do you think we should
look upon this occasion

as a very civilized...

board meeting.

You obviously have no intention of
hearing the truth from anyone.

You're the lady who's dying?

Isn't the boy refreshingly direct.

I gather that his mind is in
outer space for most of the time.

So when it returns to us
it has all the uneasy

candour of a
cosmic scale of values.

Yes, I'm the lady who's dying.

I feel closer to someone who's dying.

I once killed a man
who was already dying.

He asked me to.

I think it was a peaceful
experience for both of us.

I don't think we have to
go into all that again.

Do we?

He wouldn't dare, would he.

Oh, Claude...

Some people might say you're
your own worst enemy

but I'd say you're
your only best friend.

I went on trial for murder.

I think in some other period of history
I might've done quite well as a saint.

One of those that
got burnt at the stake.

Wooders!

What do you think about Bangkok?

Palm trees, beaches,
that kind of thing.

Maybe I should just take
you out and thrash you.

You'll have noticed, as I did
early on in our marriage

Claude is a very
frightened man.

He's frightened of
himself, that's all.

It's a great deal.

It haunts him.

He's tragically incomplete.

He admits no rage.

How do you find him?

Much the same as
you do Sonia,

but in my case,
right from the beginning,

I've used him.

Quite tenderly though...

I shall put him
in my next novel.

Before you die?

Garrote him with words.

Its an amusing little bourgeois.

Another bomb...

They're closing in.

I suppose in the last resort we
could always blame the bourgeoisie.

Don't you blame the
bourgeoisie Woodford?

Are you political at all?

Do you know the jargon old boy?

My father was a great revolutionary,
in his time, inside his head.

What is a bourgeois Woodford?

What if not someone who
simply has lost faith in

the capacity of human nature
for radical transformation.

Do we have the slightest shred
of evidence to the contrary?

Do we have the slightest shred
of evidence to the contrary?

That's not amusing at all.

Kidney walloping, his
balls the size of three.

Revolutionary, inside my head.

Well, where else damn buggers.

Evolution...

Ah, Molly...

Your breasts, a biological triumph.

Ditto the thighs.

and the little tuft of hair
so snug between.

Bless you.

Very amusing.

Listen.

If Claude every blamed me
for your death

he will grimly blame me
for my own too.

Well, it's typical of
the way in which

parents and their children approach
the problem of justice.

Does all this embarrass
you Miss Lister?

Yes sir.

Hard words for a dying man.

Since you mention
it Mr. Langham...

But he's not dying.

He's having what you might call
a long drawn out tantrum.

In addition to which he has
the bloody effrontery to

draw attention to himself
by withdrawing to

that enormous, royalistic,
expensive house.

And what is it to you
after all Miss Lister?

Why are you crying?

I thought him a very
impressive man.

He hadn't more than one.

Why shouldn't I get
fucked by a genius.

Why shouldn't I be
fucked by a genius.

I remember Molly...

when Claude was about fifteen...

he said something I've
always remembered.

At dinner it was.

I was half drunk as usual.

And you were dark
with misery, as usual.

Very grave and thoughtful he was.

Rather pompous,

as usual.

"Don't you think father,"
he said

"that one of the tasks of growing up
is to discover moral language,

something as absolute in its way
as a logical proposition?"

- I thought you might come to see me.
- I was drawn to you.

Morbidly?

You reassure me.

Somehow you seem quiet.

One thing I can say about my...

personal experience of dying it somehow
removes the problem of willing things.

How's the wine?

Nutty.

Claude always drinks white wine.

Anyone who cares for Claude should
always make sure to have white wine.

When you love someone your
sensitive to their tastes.

It's rarely mutual

and that's because one
is rarely loved.

Between the terrorist
bombs and the...

demolition of all those lovely old
buildings there soon won't be much left.

Let me just tell you what it
was like all those years.

I wish you wouldn't.

Your father behaved as if
I simply did not exist.

- My father...
- When you

went away to school
I was desolate.

One of his more childishly insulting
games was to pretend that I wasn't there,

that he didn't know me.

He was giving some lectures
once in Vienna and he didn't

introduce me to a single
person in ten days.

There was this big public reception
on the last evening and someone says,

"Why don't you introduce your friend."

He just turned and stared at me in silence
and I was trembling in embarrassment.

He said, "I haven't the faintest
idea who she is," he said to me.

I haven't the faintest
idea who she is!

I think you noticed everything.

No wonder you became
a remote little boy,

and grew into a cold,
hard young man.

I began to loathe you,

as much as I feared him.

Will you kindly get out
of my mind Molly.

Will you please stop interfering
with my last feeble efforts.

Suicide...

Surely, in your case, an act
of vengeance on the living.

Oh, cross out.

And transpose the long
suffering Woodford to...

To...

Ah, Wooders! Chased me
down then, have you?

I don't know how I got here...

When in doubt attempt a little style,
surprise them, keep them off balance.

Establish your unpredictability.

I needn't tell you
that, need I?

If you didn't love
my mother

at least you needn't
to destroyed her.

- What's that?
- I mean...

Did you create hell all these years
just to have something to write about.

Oh, Wooders, Wooders...

do try again!

I really saw Claude that day in court
when he was prosecuting you.

I hated him.

It tipped some delicate
balance in my mind.

I know that marrying him was my
own choice, but at seventeen...

That man...

he saw me as I saw myself

which was as a reflection
of how others saw me.

I never even been unfaithful to him.

Including now.

I wish you could convince him.

My life, and Claude's has
been highly organized.

I can see that.

- To achieve...
- Yes.

the minimum possible friction.

How ambitious.

How do you regard suicide?

Terminal.

They just thought me we might blow
each other's brains out

if we had a gun.

I thought we would make love

if we had the desire.

I just thought...

lying alone in bed
last night that,

a middle aged women's fantasies
are not humiliating,

and I will not reject them.

I would just like the
idea of my freedom

to be more than a patronizing
smear on Claude's face.

Finally one loses control
of everything...

body, memory...

They keep me here in this
frightening place..

waiting...

watching the tragic
fate of theirs.

Have they got you Molly?

Fragments of the remote past,
become vivid.

I do remember...

a green branch waving
against the blue sky,

over my head.

Rustling leaves...

Claude.

I thought you might like
to meet Kevin Woodford.

How do you do?

Not very well.

I think something must have gone
wrong at some early stage.

It could be childhood.

But then I don't suppose we could
spend the rest of our lives

attributing it to that.

What I'm searching for...

Mr. Langham

is a moral language.

If I don't leave you,

I'll probably make you
suffer for it.

Do you understand?

I blame you for nothing,

I don't even blame myself.

So what then is this huge, huge
sense of spiritual emptiness.

Commonplace.

Yours is the misery of triviality.

And yours?

I don't suffer.

Who could possibly ever
forgive you for that?

I thought you might come to see me.

I wanted you to know that I
don't intend to change my life

in any way.

I propose, as it were,
to let you down.

I simply wondered...

whether my arrival might provoke
some sort of crisis in your life.

Do you think a crisis
would be good for me?

Your father thought so.

I cabled him.

This is his reply.

"Death no problem"

Stop.

"My son, an emotional cripple"

Stop.

"By all means descend on him"

"if it will amuse you"

Stop.

Set and game...

to father.

Set...

and game...

to father.

Woodys!

Wooders!

Woodford.

You don't look
quite yourself.

Not at all the same person.

I think I should put you
out of your misery.

Or should I say my misery?

Get on with it then.

How you must have
driven my mother.

Did it amuse you to pretend that you
didn't recognize her in public?

I'm her witness.

And I propose to kill you.

Such hatred...

Not hatred.

Justice.

In my own curious fashion...

I think...

I've always loved you.

Children not here yet?

They rang on their way down,
about half an hour ago sir.

They won't be long.

Yes, did you find me
out here this morning?

No sir, on the bathroom floor.

Pissed?

I took the liberty of bathing
and dressing you sir

then bring you down here.

I thought perhaps the sun...

Another bloody awful night.

Kept on waking up and trying
to jot a few things down.

Then needless to say, more boozes
and more nightmares.

I'm sorry Mr. Langham.

Karen I want everything to be
especially wonderful today.

We don't often get the
chance to see them do we.

It shall be the very best week
in due Mr. Langham.

Your old age has got to
be so bloody awful.

I think we have the right to indulge them
in a few compensatory foibles, don't you.

I think I hear Mr. Claude's
car now sir.

Alright then, raise me
up a bit, will you.

Yes sir.

- Here we are sir.
- Thank you.

Sonia, Claude!

Children, come quickly.

Take a paw each.

Happy birthday Clive.

Happy birthday father.

Come my dears, sit down.

Lots of boozes on the way,
damn good lunch too.

What's the talk, eh?

Don't you want to
see your presents?

My dear girl at my age one either lives
just long enough to make presents useless

or not long enough to make
the question relevant.

Where are they, where are they!

Nils, Nils, Nils!

Wine, wine, wine!

If you please...

And what the fuck's this?

Well this is my contribution, it
belonged to Ernest Hemingway,

or so they told me

I bet they bloody well did...

What a brilliant inspiration,
thank you Sonia.

Of course you know he wasn't

anything like such a damned innovator
as they all make out.

What's this, what's this?

Oh, not old bum peter's
latest dribble.

Ah, Claude dear boy always so
maladroit when it comes to presents.

"The Scales of Time"

That sounds provocatively obscure.

I might just ask old bum
face you know

if I can use it as the
title for my new novel.

Very flattered he'd be.

Delighted my dear Langham!

etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...

Just can't wait to see his
sycophantic expression.

Father!

Is that Kevin?

Is that my favourite bastard?

Don't you think to have only one
bastard after sixty years of action

is almost tantamount
to self denial.

And all the way from
bloody old Geneva...

The only one you admitted to.

That's right.

I signed a piece of paper,
like a dog license.

Happy birthday!

- Hello Claude, have we
just made it. - Good

Sonia.

- How are things?
- Good.

- I thought you were in Geneva?
- Well I was in Geneva...

Come to have the last glimpse
before I pop off, eh?

Oh, now that is functional!

Especially as I'm half sodding
blind these days.

I thought you'd like
the workmanship.

Those Victorians.

I once knew a Victorian...

How are the physical sciences?

Astrophysics, father.

Same damn thing, bound
to turn out that way.

I once knew a woman with
tits like a spiralled nebula.

Karen tells me you
haven't been well.

How are the dreaded
law courts, my son?

I do wish you'd let us know when
you're not feeling well Clive.

Oh, you know how it is...

The heart pumps as if it was trying to push
a tonne of shit through a concrete wall.

The lungs don't so much breath as
squeak ineffectually for mercy.

One continues to smoke
and drink too much...

If only they let me get my
hands on a pretty little nurse.

They always sends
me hags, you know.

But a nice new
belle girl

and I might even manage to go out of
this world screwing too much as well.

How's the new book
coming along father?

Who are you disembowelling
this time?

Seventy eight fucking
years old today.

Molly would have
been seventy one.

I know you adored her.

But for me you had nothing
more profound, damn it,

then disapproval.

It's your birthday father.

You know it seems only yesterday you
and I were having solemn conversations

about your becoming an astronaut.

It must be fifteen years ago.

And when was that
first Russian thing?

Sput-something...

Nik, sputnik.

Whirling some poor damn
dog around the planet.

I used to think I was a
Bolshevik, you know.

Centuries ago...

It wasn't the revolution
which frightened him,

it was the revolutionaries.

Quite...

But...

OK then chaps.

More, more, more of that...

exquisite chilled,
that lovely wine, please.

Claude easily shies away
from you, he always has.

He might never admit it,
but he's always disproved of me.

You know the trouble with Claude is that
he's lead such an impeccable life,

not one detectable vice.

I'm his detectable vice.

Never could get my teeth into him.

And then my wife
committed suicide.

Oh, now must you, especially today.

Hasn't he ever had a mistress?

Neither of us has had anyone.

Haven't you ever got
bored with it all?

Wanted to take off for Bangkok with
some well hung hippie or something.

No! For the hundredth time,
we've been very happy.

He and I could never get
things cleared up.

His mother...

I never knew...

You will nag at it.

You baffle me Sonia.

You've always been...

opaque to me.

But then, I've always
liked enigmatic women.

Ah, he's watching us.

Well, why shouldn't he?

I've always been able to
sense him watching me,

even when he was a boy

God, I felt ill last night.

You look well today.

Don't deceive yourself,

death creeps on.

You're afraid?

I disapprove of death.

You begin to sniff the temptation
of believing in something.

Will it be harder to
die without god?

Your turn will come.

Do you intend to die with god?

I don't think about it.

For god's sake drink
something, will you.

First dead man of the day.

Who's going to be the
second I wonder?

What about the law then?

What is law, whose fucking law?

But your, managing to look pretty
sleek on it young Langers.

Remember those summers
in Cap Ferrat?

I'm not senile yet, you know.

- When mother used to put out...
- Who?

When mother used to put out the
chilled wine and the prawns.

When we were swimming...

mildly pissed by lunchtime...

The longest time we were
ever together you know...

Parents ought to have the discretion
not to impose on their children.

Beyond a certain point.

Oh, I didn't give a damn about you
wandering around the world all that time.

Your boozing and your women,
those absurd scandals

No I realized that...

The search for a moral language had to
yield to the incomprehensible.

Matter of fact, I always thought you
were a rather conventional old shit.

So I was, so I was...
Sharp little bugger you must've been.

You know the point about being
conventionally unconventional...

Is that it provides a mask behind which
one's true squalor can rest in peace.

Well, relative peace...

People still get hurt though,
women, family, friends,

cats, dogs, mice, pigeons...

For your mother to
die was one thing...

for her to cut her wrists
all by herself

in the middle of the night
was quite another.

Rather excessive, don't you think?

When it was terminal cancer?

Seemed to me logical at the time,
I didn't blame you.

I've never been hurt by you.

I suppose that means
that you think...

that I think you were.

Sometimes.

Your beginning to
sound like someone...

performing the last rites.

Claude.

Lunch is ready.

He said you and I
are a bit unreal.

Yes, I know he thinks that.

Are we?

That's for my benefit.

I think it's for theirs.

Karen!

Nils!

Splendid!

Excellent.

Don't give a damn!

If the stomach's fucked
then fuck it some more.

If ever I saw a bloody old bourgeois!

Your father is not an immoral man.

- What?
- He is simply a...

One many have
disapproved of.

A bourgeois...

is merely a man who refuses to
accept the ideological muse...

You know children this effing
pain I get up the ass...

No father, no...

The bourgeois is only the man who
understands the ideological muse

as the death of his values.

I suppose I'm one of them...

I don't know if my values
are correct or incorrect

they're just the moral structures
by which I can live.

The only question is young
Langers, what are they?

Honesty.

Scrupulousness.

Discrimination.

Protectiveness.

Tenderness.

Aversion to violence and the
conscious practise of terror.

Hardly the monopoly
of the bourgeoisie.

What's more he's confusing
private virtue with public justice.

Is he naive

or just a hypocrite?

To my father on his
seventy eighth birthday.

Live long father.

I love you all very much.

I shall continue to refuse to die.

Besides I have a book to finish.

To all of you my dears.

To your future.

Nothing is written.

We all believe that,

don't we?

One last thing

after this strange and
marvellous afternoon.

Sonia,

Claude, Kevin...

Just leave...

now please.

With neither kiss, nor touch.

With my blessing.

I think there's time...

for just one more.