Original subtitles

Fraser, while resting,

not so much as a peep.

When I was very little,

the thing I hated most in all the world was resting.

Resting was really just a kind of torture invented for people like me and my sister, Brenda.

It was one of the things Gamma told us to do,

and everybody had to do everything Gamma told them,

even when everybody else was outside having fun.

Play very nicely, children!

Not like a troupe of cannibalistic baboons.

And I did my very famous bad thing,

'cause I was being made to rest, and it was a beautiful, sunny day.

- Fraser's on the roof! - No, child, Fraser is resting.

No, no, he's on the roof!

Oh, Fraser!

I suppose he must've climbed up the drainpipe.

Don't be daft. He's clamored out the window.

- Now, you all stay calm, children. - Yes, Gamma.

- Edward, do something. Hurry! - Robert!

Fraser, stop, darling. Oh, my.

- Robert, get the net outside under the child. - Good thinking, Edward.

Get the dogs out from under the net. They'll be crushed!

Fraser.

Watch yourself, sir.

Edward, get a rope!

My dad didn't want us to go into our attic,

so he told us that was where the devil lurked.

Ever since, I've been terrified of the word "lurked" -

He's round the front, Mr. Pettigrew!

- Huh? - Yes, but which direction?

Our house is probably too big, which is why my mum kept having babies,

so that we can keep it filled up.

- Fraser! Yoo-hoo! - Fraser!

Fraser!

She could've just as easily been an opera singer.

She auditioned for the great Blanche Marquese,

but then she met my dad and threw away her opera career for love.

- Fraser! Please, darling. - Woof!

Woof! Woof!

- Woof! - Woof, woof!

Woof! Woof, woof!

- Woof! Woof, woof! - Woof, woof!

- Woof, woof! - Woof!

- Woof! - Woof!

Woof, woof! Woof!

The only language that me and my dad both really understood was dog.

It was our ability to communicate in dog...

that led him to me on the roof and saved my life.

Woof! Woof!

I'm ten now, and me and my dad don't talk dog much anymore.

Jump right onto the tailwind, and up you go! There you are.

My dad is amazing. He's an inventor and a genius.

Sometimes he combines his mechanical genius with his great love for Beethoven.

Daddy's coming! Daddy's coming!

Daddy's coming!

Semi-submersible vulcanized Pantaloon.

A boon to tradesmen and gentry alike.

Say good-bye to soppy trousers. Wave farewell to drippy socks.

Daddy, Daddy!

After his water triumph, Dad's next ambition is to conquer the air.

It's seven years since my famous bad thing,

and I still don't have any fear of heights.

- Ready, Fraser? - Ready, Dad!

He says that's why I'm such a help to him with his flying experiments.

Seven, six, five,

four, three, two,

one!

- Look, an airplane! - It's gorgeous!

Welcome to Kiloran! I'm Edward Pettigrew.

Bonjour. Sorry-- hello.

I'm Gabriel Chenoux, the emperor of the air.

I have a problem with my-- my filter.

- Do you know about engines? - Perhaps.

- Oh, this is amazing. - Let's see if there's something--

I seem to have landed in some sort of Shangri-La here.

Some hidden world where angels walk upon the surface of the earth.

A paradise from whence no human heart may leave unscorched.

Well, Mr. Chenoux--

He just dropped out of the sky like Daedalus.

- Daedalus? Who's Daedalus? - Icarus.

- Daedalus was the father. - I meant Icarus,

the one who flew too close to the sun.

That's him?

Except Icarus didn't have a sheepskin flying helmet on or goggles or a big coat.

All he had on was a pair of golden swimming trunks.

Fraser, don't use language like that.

"Swimming trunks"

Anyway, Icarus fell and landed on his head...

and burst open and died.

We might well have something up our sleeves for you.

You know, even if I would have found a place to land,

I would've had to send somebody to Carlisle for a motor truck.

Well, we may not be at the forefront of aerodynamical mechanics, Mr. Emperor,

but I'm sure my men can rustle up an air filter...

from available materials, wouldn't you say, Jim?

What would that be, Mr. Pettigrew?

I was just thinking that what might do the trick...

in terms of replacing the air filter might well be some of our Sphagnum.

Sphagnum?

You are, at this moment, Mr. Emperor, privileged to be standing...

in the only Sphagnum moss factory in Europe.

- And the biggest. - And the best.

My father invented and patented the Pettigrew Power Intensifier.

Did he, you say? Flabbergasting.

- Flabbergasting. - It fits onto the carburetor.

Mr. Emperor, are you going to let us have a ride in your airplane?

Well, I think it's up to your father to say. Ask him.

Dad, can I?

Dad says the view of Kiloran...

was a sight he would treasure for the rest of his life...

and that we all looked like bugs.

But he says I'm far too young to go up in the plane.

It was seeing Kiloran from up in the emperor's airplane...

that gave him one of his best ideas.

It was during the Great War that we first started mining moss.

It was used for putting on soldiers' wounds...

because it was ten times more absorbent than cotton wool.

So when they were horribly wounded,

it was our moss that soaked up their blood and guts and everything.

This is, by far, the most effective solution.

You could see it so clearly from the airplane. We reroute the moss trail through hillside,

and we save a three-mile journey to the pressing plant.

Aye if you say so, Mr. Pettigrew.

Just lay the charges, Andrew. Let me worry about the logistical planning.

Good Lord. What's that buffoon doing now, Mother?

Let me handle this, Morris.

- Give us a hand with that, will you? - Edward!

Edward!

I don't think Mrs. Macintosh will be too pleased.

Oh, that'll be the cavalry arrived. Master Morris there--a right hard-nosed bugger.

If I know Master Morris there'll be no more of this damned foolish dynamiting nonsense.

He'll not be keen to see his inheritance blown to pieces.

I have never in all my born days...

witnessed such irresponsible behavior.

The estate is not yours, Edward, to go around...

destroying and exploding without so much as by-your-leave.

And besides, you'll frighten the sheep!

What makes you think it's yours to blow up, Edward?

Sheer bloody-minded vandalism, I should say.

Andrew, tell the men to pack up when they've cleared this.

- We'll be doing no more blasting today. - Right, Mr. Pettigrew.

- Andrew Burns says it was a very good - idea, Dad does he? Ah, well.

Uncle Morris has rolled back into town,

and Gamma thinks Uncle Morris knows best when it comes to managing Kiloran,

even though he lives 500 miles away and only shows his face once in a blue moon.

I know. And he's a right hard-nosed bugger.

- Fraser Pettigrew! - What's a blue moon, Dad?

My dad has two obsessions.'

Beethoven and the Bible.

- As usual, every Sunday, we have to listen to him preach. - Mens Sana in corpore sano--

a healthy mind in a healthy body.

But what is it we mean when we speak of a healthy mind?

We mean a direct, manly attitude towards our faith. -

Now, I take my text today from the words of the glorious hymn by William Blake.'

"Bring me my bow of burning gold, Bring me my arrows of desire"

Until we have built Jerusalem--

Uncle Morris says our minister's liver is going to explode.

But if you're a minister, you'll go straight to heaven, won't you?

Dad, when people die and go to heaven,

does everybody get a house of their own?

- To live in? - Uh-huh.

Well, heaven is like living in the place you love best for all eternity.

So it'd be just like staying here, then, wouldn't it?

It'd be like not dying at all.

Fraser, that's very poetically put, and it's very apt.

I was just thinking something along those lines myself...

about the nature of home.

Don't forget to wash your hands, now, Finlay.

In pastures green

Magnificent.

Norwegian pine, Sitka spruce.

- What are they, Uncle Morris? - Commercial softwoods.

- What's a commercial softwood? - It's what your father should be planting instead of his moss.

Trees for the paper and timber industry,

not handfuls of sphagnum moss from out of a filthy bog.

You'll miss Sunday lunch!

Ah. Come on-- lunch.

Donald, Finlay, come on-- lunch!

- I'm coming, Mr. Macintosh! I'm coming, Uncle Morris! I'm coming!

My uncle Morris had made his fortune in Liverpool...

and his home in London, when he wasn't nightclubbing around Paris and Monte Carlo.

He always brings the latest jazz records with him,

mostly to irritate my father.

One time I heard him tell my dad that he'd kick us out of Kiloran...

once he'd inherited it, and that we'd have to live in the moss factory.

But Dad said Uncle Morris was only kidding.

We reckon he's a good laugh, our uncle Morris.

Who's this? Who's this?

- Reverend Finlayson! - Yes!

- Good! - I saw him drinking out of the Bible.

Oh! He had a drink out of the Good Book, did he?

Oh, well, there you are.

Here, I think I'll sit here a moment. Hold this, Finlay.

Gamma doesn't let Father smoke in the house.

My father smokes wherever he wants.

He used to have to ask my mother, but now he doesn't.

Uncle Morris, do you have to do everything you're told by Gamma Macintosh as well?

Ooh, absolutely, without a shadow of doubt,

- and seek permission for any new venture. - What new venture?

Well, let's say for instance-- just for an example--

say I was of a mind to get married.

If old Mrs. Macintosh said no, would you have to tell your betrothed it was all off?

Well, let's just suppose that my prospective wife...

was a good deal younger than I am,

and she just happened to be French.

Is she very beautiful?

Oh, yes.

Oh, yes, Finlay.

Is she as beautiful as my mother?

You think Moira's beautiful, huh?

- My wee sister, beautiful? - Of course I do.

Father says, "My, my, you're looking beautiful today.

Fancy slipping upstairs for a slank, Moira?"

A slank? Is that what he says?

- I must remember that. "Slip upstairs for a slank" - What? What?

Why's that funny? What?

Mister says, "Fancy a wee slank, Missus?"

"Time for a slank" "Thank you for a slank-you"

Slank you, bank you, ank you, slank you!

Hey! Hey... Fraser! Fraser!

Fraser! Stop it!

You're only jealous of her

'cause my mother's beautiful and your mother's Dead!

You shouldn't have said that. That was very mean!

And, you know, just because he made fun of your mother

doesn�t mean to say you can be cruel, you know.

I want you to go an apologize to Donald Burns.

Yes, Uncle Morris I, m Sorry!

The accounts are a shambles, Mother.

Then income from this nonsensical moss business is a pittance.

All Dad's investment in this estate is just... dribbling away.

Right!

Boys, six breaths!

- One, two, three, four, - Just look at him.

Five, six!

Let's go! Come on, gird your loins!

You're all bonkers!

I mean, all this running around naked and dog behavior.

There may be a bit of a fool in Edward, but he's a kind fool.

Kiloran isn't a business, Morris. It's our home.

Your father understood that better than anyone.

Edward worships Moira, and Moira adores him.

You're just an old softy, Mother.

- Good Lord! Stoddard, isn't it? - Aye, Mr. Morris.

Didn't I dismiss you last summer?

- Mr. Pettigrew brought you back, did he? Typical. - Uh-huh.

You know, Mother, I think it's time I sorted this place out.

I mean, it's just bedlam, like a zoo!

No, Daddy! Daddy, no!

Whoa!

Procrastination only intensifies the sensation of shock, boys!

I'm clean, Daddy, I promise you. I'm very, very clean!

Ha-ha-ha!

It's not healthy, Father. Dr. Gebbie said I had to tell you.

It could make your heart stop.

- I'm gonna run and hide in the woods. - Fraser, no!

Fraser, come back!

That was the first time that I saw the hairy man.

No one else saw him. He must have been a figment. -

Anyway, I think he was more frightened than I am.

If you plant a boiler house and a chimney stack there, Edward,

You will disfigure Kiloran beyond repair.

And if you put a chimney there, dear, the smoke will blow...

into the nursery, dear-- we'll poison our children.

Uh-huh.

Aha!

The Pettigrew Draft-Assisted Horizontal Underground Fume Extractor.

Brilliant, Mr. Pettigrew!

Really, Moira. The man's mad.

Who ever heard of a chimney under the lawn?

Edward's terribly practical, Mother. I'm sure it'll work.

What, and this is for insulating all the new central heating pipes?

- That's right, Andrew. - I've never seen anything like it in my puff!

Aye, and they've decided to call it "asbestos"

Oh! Tastes like your mother's porridge.

Oh!

Do you really have a fiancee, Uncle Morris?

- Do I what? - Do you really have a fiancee, Uncle Morris?

Indeed, I do, Finlay. Indeed, I do.

- Is she a secret? - Well, she was until this afternoon.

What's her name, Uncle Morris, and where did you meet her?

Her name is Heloise, and I suppose I met her on a golf course.

Frog's legs-- that's another one.

- Also snails and slugs. - Ugh! -Slugs?

- That's unbelievable. - It's disgusting, you mean.

It's hardly likely, Katie, you would be expected to perform French cookery for the woman.

Good, plain, Scottish fare will have to do her.

Finest food in the world-- none of your fancy trimming�s...

or garlic.

I ate garlic once. I was confined to my bed for nearly a month with rheumatic pains,

- and even a little gout. - You went to bed with a little goat, Marnie?

No, dear. Not "goat."

I was confined to my bed with a little "gout"

Is it true Mr. Morris met his fiancee on his golfing tour?

Apparently she was playing in a dance band.

Oh, he's a great one for the dancin', our Master Morris.

- Playing what? - Well, apparently, it was a musical instrument.

Maybe a glockenspiel?

She plays a French cello, and her name is Heloise.

- Aha? The French cello, Master Fraser? - Uh-huh.

Uncle Morris was having a whiskey and soda to buck up his spirits...

after losing to a dreadful bogie on the 17th,

when this beautiful music wafted into the room.

He went through to see what it was, and he saw Heloise bowing her cello in the French trio.

And he said to himself there and then,

"That's the girl for you, Morris, my boy"

He asked the leader of the trio if the lovely cellist would play him a solo.

He requested "Le Cygne" by Saint-Saens...

'cause he knew it was French, and he wanted to impress her.

The very next day he took her to Robbie Burns' cottage for a cream tea...

and asked her if she'd do him the honor of becoming his wife.

Oh! I think that's so lovely, so sad as well.

- I think that makes you want to weep! - Get a hold of yourself, Sarah.

What was it again that Mr. Morris asked his fianc�e to play for him, Master Fraser?

"Le Cygne", which means "the swan."

- It's French for "swan" - That is so beautiful!

"The swan" Would that be a song you would know yourself, Fraser?

Uh-huh. Mumsie has it on a gramophone recording.

It's this:

- Ah, that was beautiful, Heloise! - Thank you so much.

- I see you're wearing the choker. - I wonder whether you and I might have a talk, Mother.

You could just see that swan.

It would be my pleasure to conduct you on a personal tour of the Pettigrew world of moss.

- I'd like that very much. Thank you so much. - That was lovely.

- I adored it! It was lovely. - Uncle Morris?

What, Fraser?

Good luck, Uncle Morris.

The moss itself has properties which are one at the same time both antiseptic and--

- Sphagnum is ten times more absorbent than cotton wool. - Oh!

These women we see here are the cutters and the balers.

Afternoon, Mr. Pettigrew, sir.

Ahey, Cyric! Brawn, bonny afternoon of it we're having, my lassie!

It's an advantage to have a working knowledge of the local vernacular.

- The cutters and the balers-- - The cutters have the job of cutting the moss.

- And the balers-- - The balers have the job of doing the baling.

- Fraser-- - Oh!

A considerable quantity of water has to be removedfrom the moss...

- before it can be racked in the drying shed-- - For drying!

And we made cigars from the dried moss. Didn't we, Dad?

It is not one of our better ideas.

Hey, Fraser.

Now, this is just taking some soap down to the cottage.

- Oh! - Just one of my little--

- What's this? - Father made it himself.

Now, what we have here is the, uh--

A little storeroom shop we have here.

We might be able to knock up a couple of little selections--

- Look! There's Jim Menries. - Hello!

He's our blacksmith. He's so strong he can crack things in half.

Oh, that's very impressive.

Mmm!

Oh! Oh!

Is all the moss factory your father's invention, Fraser?

All of it, everything! It's the only moss factory in the entire continent of Europe.

Mmm, he's a very clever man, your father.

I know. He's an inventor and a genius.

Mmm.

What a beautiful scent.

It reminds me of when we would catch...

ecrevisses in the river and wrap them in moss to bring them home...

- when I was your age. - What age are you now, miss?

Hmm.

I'm 24, but don't tell your grandmother.

What are ecrevisses?

Ecrevisses are crayfish,

ignorant little boy,

a species of miniature freshwater lobster.

And very delicious to eat.

- I-I knew that, Father. I meant-- - Well, Fraser,

I think you've pestered Heloise with your silly, irritating prattle quite long enough...

- for one afternoon. - I haven't!

You're severely testing my patience. Can you not see Heloise is bored stiff?

- Now, up to the house. Up to the house! - But Dad--

I'd like you to accept this small gift as a souvenir of my moss factory.

Soap, cologne and a soothing unguent of sphagnum.

It's you that's irritating, and it's you that's pestering,

- and it's you that's ignorant! - Ah, Fraser!

How would you like to be the first young man to shake your favorite uncle's hand?

Leave me alone! I hate him!

Fraser! What happened? What's the matter?

That boy is getting out of control. His father had better take a firmer hand with him.

One tantrum hot on the heels of another.

Fraser.

Fraser?

Whoo-hoo!

Oh. Fraser.

Fraser!

Come talk to Mumsie, darling.

Enchante.

Enchante.

It's Dad's fault I'm ignorant, because he never tells me about anything useful.

If you ask him why Beethoven is so wonderful, he says stuff like,

Beethoven is the sound of God talking in His sleep.

And if you ask him why he hates jazz, he says things like,

Jazz is the sound of the devil sniggering at our folly, Fraser.

So you end up not knowing anything--

except now I know for sure the devil doesn't lurk in our attic,

because that's where I lurk.

The devil lurks wherever he wants.

He's like me,'he isn't afraid of heights either.

I've decided to read all of Grandpa Macintosh's books...

so that I know more than my dad does.

Someone has written inside the cover--

"Dearest Samuel, Forbidden fruits are always the sweetest.

I have many things I'd like to teach you, if only we could find the opportunity.

The very thought arouses me to lubricious ecstasies"

Probably a golfing friend.

Well, if you're ready, sir, I'll lead off.

All right? Mr. Macintosh.

We're ready, Andrew. You just give the word.

Bye-bye!

Fraser!

I was looking for you.

So, you enjoy Saint-Saens.

Yes, when you played it, Auntie Heloise.

Was that the music you played when Uncle Morris became smitten, Auntie Heloise?

Listen, when nobody's around, I want you to call me simply "Heloise."

D'accord?

Okay. Um, do you know what this is?

It's jazz.

Mmm.

Life can be so sweet

On the sunny side of the street

Heloise!

I thought it was one of the children misbehaving.

Morris told me you sing.

No. No, not-- Well, not really.

- Well, a little bit. - Ah!

I auditioned, but nothing came of it.

- Ah. - Blanche Marquese thought I might have a future, but,

alas, it was not to be.

Perhaps we could try a duet.

N-Now?

Yeah, I would, actually.

Oh, on the cello. Of course. You--

- Fantastic! - Okay.

Oh, my love is like

A red, red rose

That's newly sprung in June

Oh, my love is like a melody

That's sweetly played in tune

As fair art thou

My bonny lass

So deep in love am I

That I will love thee

Still, my dear

Till all the seas gang dry

Till all the seas gang dry my dear

Till all the seas gang dry

And I will love thee still my dear

Till all the seas gang dry

Mmm.

Waist, waist, waist-- Aye, aye, aye--

Twenty-two, twenty-two, aye, aye, on the waist.

Inside leg! Inside leg!

- Aye-- Twenty-one, twenty-one-- - No, go away!

- Go away! Go away! - All right, boys. You can put your things on now.

Oh, Scottish men.

- Oh, it's gorgeous! - Yeah. That's for your auntie Heloise, now, Meg.

- It used to belong to my dear husband's mother. - I know.

Morris told me when he gave it to me. I think it is the most beautiful thing.

I wore it on the first day to please you.

Well, you did please me. Morris is a very fortunate man.

- Mumsie, - Yes, love?

Aunt Heloise says we can call her just Heloise.

We will call your aunt Heloise "Auntie", I think, young madam.

Sorry, Gamma.

I've fallen head-over-heels with Heloise.

I think everybody has.

Rhythm and timing!

This little unsuspecting fishy hiding in the weeds, when suddenly--

the hunter strikes!

My dad decided...

it's time to learn the manly art of hunting fish. -

Fraser, liberate your brother, will you?

This means getting up before everybody else...

and standing in freezing-cold water,

and you have to sing bits of Beethoven to be in the proper rhythm.

I spent half my time learning to fish in ice-cold water...

and half my time learning things out of Grandpa Macintosh's secret books.

In one of the books, Greek Mythology,

there's a lovely picture of a lady and a swan, which is "le cygne" in French.

Also another lady called Pacify and her pet bull which she loved hugely.

Cast!

I found an article about a thing called "prostitution" read it three times.

It's one of the most interesting things I've ever come across.

There aren't just secret books, there are also secret engravings hidden in them.

These are mainly of Belgian ladies with all their clothes off,

which is called being "in dishabille"

Also in the Encyclopedia of Ethics,

it says what to do if you accidentally see pictures like these.

What's really great about learning the manly art of fishing is...

that it gives you loads of time to think about what you've read in the secret library,

and the books give you loads of things to think about while you're fishing.

And that's why my dad wants me out of the attic--

because he doesn't want me to know anything.

It probably suits him if I'm ignorant and don't know about the things he knows about,

like the naked ladies in Grandpa Macintosh's library.

Well, now I probably know more about naked ladies than he does.

Come on. Come on, Doggit.

So then if we knock that wall down there and extend three yards that way,

then we'll have room for the drying machines to--

- I love this moss. - So do I.

It's like a perfume.

- Morris, of course, hates it. - No, he doesn't.

He wants to destroy it, all of it. He has no soul, your fiance.

- He has no romance in his soul. - Edward.

So, uh--

Now, do I-- do I get the kiss,

- like-like you did with, uh, Fraser? - What?

You know, how you rewarded him for, uh, throwing moss.

Fraser's a child.

And you-- Morris' child-bride-to-be?

Edward-- I don't want this talk.

Edward, I want to go back to the house now.

Stop it! Arrete! Please!

Don't ever... ever do that again!

You're behaving like a child.

- Yes?

I beg your pardon, Mr. Morris,

but Jim's just arrived from the station with what looks like more guests.

Ah! Excellent, excellent.

Oh, yes. It's Hector and Lillian. Good.

Her name's Lillian, but, uh, we call her "Billy"

Ah!

Hm.

- We'll just, uh, put these back in the study, will we? - Why?

Oh, you know how Gamma is about strong drink.

Not that I disagree myself, especially with Mr. Finlayson at dinner.

Why don't you just leave them where they were, in fact, Edward?

Wouldn't want to appear inhospitable.

Edward, this moss business--

What about the moss?

If you're going to manage this place properly, you'll have to come up with a better scheme--

something that's more realistic, less childish.

What's childish about the sphagnum moss processing factory?

Just look at yourself. You're a grown man.

You're still walking around the place...

with hanks of the stuff hanging off of your clothes and sticking out of your hair.

Yeah.

Look at that. You can't get away from it.

There'll have to be some serious changes here--

some cutbacks and the like.

What are you getting at, Morris?

You're so busy wheeling and dealing, making your money...

that you forgotten that we're a family here--

a happy family.

- Good morning, wee Fraser! - Hello!

You breeze in here with your exotic... child fiancee...

less than half your age, and you throw your weight around. -

- Ah! Just look at you two! - Morris!

A couple of desperados up from the big city.

Morris, darling.

Welcome back to the pie, old chaps.

Heloise! There you are.

Are you all right?

Come on, I want you to meet some friends. This is Billy and Hector.

- This is Heloise, - Enchante. Bonjour.

My exotic child fiancee.

Listen! You'll never believe this in a million years.

- It's for disemboweling deer. Look! - Shh, Fraser. What, Sissie?

One of Mr. Morris' friends is a woman dressed up as a man, called Billy.

Only his real name's Lillian-- her name, I mean.

What do you mean, dressed up as a man called Billy?

You mean like a cowboy? You mean like Billy the Kid?

- You mean like fancy dress? - Is it like a costume?

No, that's how she's dressed-- as if she was really a man in real life.

Probably a lesbian.

Master Fraser, you'll get skinned alive for language like that.

They generally come from the Greek island of Lesbos...

- and are called lesbians for that reason. - Oh, Master Fraser!

Language like what, Sarah?

I never said a word! It's him should get his mouth washed out!

Although I don't think Billy or Lillian Are traditional Greek names.

There's no chance one of you young lovelies...

might find it in their hearts to iron these for me, is there?

Crawford saw Jesus on the lawn this morning.

- On the lawn. - Who?

Jesus--just right out there on the lawn.

Jesus Christ!

Didn't you, Crawford?

Uh-huh.

Jesus walked across the loch and over the lawn towards the house.

Was Jesus by any chance wearing a pair of Edward's...

semi-submersible, vulcanized pantaloons?

I know who you mean.

I've seen him too. I saw him down in the moss factory this morning...

- when the lady screamed. - Who screamed?

Fraser, Jesus doesn't like little boys who tell wicked fibs.

- Sorry, Gamma, but-- - Sometimes Jesus might forgive a fib...

if it's to protect a loved one from harm, Fraser.

No. If you claim to be a Christian, and you tell a lie, you are a hypocrite...

and not a Christian.

You can't do a bad thing and be a good man. You can't have it both ways.

Now, who can I help to a little glass of this claret?

- Minster, you'll not object to keeping Morris company... -Oh!

- Amongst all these abstemious souls? - Well--

- No, there is a wedding to celebrate. - Well, really, I don't like to--

I really don't think I should. O-O-O-On the other hand--

I wouldn't like to--

Sissie, you must tell Mrs. Henderson her cock-a-leekie soup's a triumph.

I think it's meant to be cream of asparagus, ma'am.

Your trifle ready for the cream yet, Sarah?

Says sherry first, then whip cream, Mrs. Henderson.

Oh! Right.

You may fetch some sherry from the cellar.

Oh, right, girls-- vegetables. Sissie, you're neeps.

I'm potatoes. Aggie, you can be Brussels sprouts. Come on, come on!

It's the scandal of the thing.

- Terrible suffering of the families. - Oh, God, he's off.

Miners have seen their wages actually cut in half.

It's no wonder they threaten to withdraw labor.

I believe I hear talk that there's to be a bonspiel at Kiloran this winter...

in honor of the newlyweds.

Who shall blame them? -Who, indeed, Mr. Finlayson? Who, indeed?

- Edward? - Well, if the Lord sees fit to bless us...

with three inches of deep black ice, that's exactly what we'll be having, Sir David.

What is this bonspiel, Morris?

Curling-- slippery bowling.

It's the Scottish nation's greatest gift to the world--

after golf, that is.

Ah, it's a game, I see.

Mrs. Henderson, you've excelled yourself.

It's rarely she manages anything so good.

- So, are dogs allowed in? Yes. - To heaven?

- Dogs-- perfectly free of sin in their hearts. - Of course.

So heaven is full of people's pets that have died...

and gone to wait for them.

The Christian faith is a very muscular thing, Heloise.

- It isn't damaged by ridicule. It's much stronger than-- - Temptation.

Than duty? Than what? What is it stronger than?

- What about stoats? - Quiet, Fraser.

- Yes, what about stoats? - I'm sorry to say that stoats are vermin.

- In your eyes, not in the eyes of other stoats. - In the eyes of God.

No, I'll have another wee spoonful of that, if you don't mind, Sissie.

But why would any god deliberately create vermin?

They seem to be doomed to eternal damnation simply for being true...

to their own nature.

Because, by their nature, some creatures are beyond redemption.

Creatures? How would we define a creature?

Would I qualify as a creature, perhaps?

A stoat is not a creature, miss.

A stoat is a wild beast of woods and fields,

just like our Fraser.

She's on her fourth helping.

- What? Fourth helping? - The trifle. I can't get it off her.

No-- not my sherry trifle.

Oh, my God!

I think it's the sweet sherry that sort of allows it--

That's utter nonsense, Edward. It's amontillado.

My father wouldn't have sweet sherry in this house. -

Perhaps Heloise and I could perform, Mr. Finlayson,

raise funds for the families of your poor miners.

What a very Christian idea. And what will you perform?

- A duet, perhaps? - Prostitution!

No, really. It's perfect.

Mumsie and Aunt Heloise could be prostitutes.

They could attend to our urgent needs and earn a considerable fortune for the miners.

They could service my dad and Uncle Morris and anybody else...

who could afford their lubricious ministrations.

Fraser, go to my study and wait for me there.

What? Why? Wh-What's wrong?

We're all of us prostitutes in some manner or other.

That's what my Samuel used to say in business.

He's waiting for me, you know--

Oh, I miss him. I miss my Samuel!

- He's waiting for me! - Come along, Gamma.

Come on. Let's go have a little lie-down now, shall we?

- There we are. There we are. - Oh, he's waiting for me!

I miss my Samuel.

He's waiting for me.

He's waiting for me.

It's you that's irritating! It's you that's pestering,

and it's you that's ignorant!

- Come on, son! - Fraser!

Where are you?

- Fraser! - Fraser!

- Where are you? Come on, lad! - Fraser, where are you?

Gamma's got better now her trifle's worn off.

She's very angry with Sarah and says she'll have to let her go.

It was only from the bloody damn dressing, Mrs. High and Mighty Macintosh!

Jesus Christ Almighty, Mr. Pettigrew, look.

Dad dredged the loch for his precious Beethoven busts,

but he found something else instead.

The hairy man turned out to be Andrew Burns �cousin Alec...

who'd been shell shocked during the Great War.

And I've got pneumonia.

The house is the emptiest it ever was, and it makes me think...

of how it's going to be when Uncle Morris throws us all out onto the streets...

and plants Norwegian pine and Sitka spruce all over everything.

That's really scary.

Fraser,

I think you had better wait outside.

But I thought you were dead, Gamma.

Outside, Fraser.

I know you're unwell, Fraser Pettigrew,

and having flights of fantasy due to delirium,

so we won't speak of this to anyone.

Is that fully and completely understood, young man?

I'm sorry, Gamma.

Gamma, when you die and give the house to Uncle Morris,

what will happen to us?

Whatever happens, my love, you'll always be looked after.

Anyway, I'm very far from dead, you know?

- But I thought you'd stopped breathing and died. - I know you did, Fraser.

That's why we don't sneak into ladies' bedrooms without knocking first.

- But why? - Because we might stumble on some dreadful secret...

that makes our hair turn white and haunts us all our lives.

Is that what turned your hair white, Gamma?

No, my love. It was you lot that made my-- Oh!

My hair turn white.

Now, off you go with Sissie.

Oh, Master Fraser, you're on fire.

Sissie, is slanking something you have to do in secret because it's wicked?

- Fraser. - If people get caught slanking, are they in terrible trouble?

- Daft wee boy. - Slanking!

- Sissie? - Uh-huh?

You used to teach me a poem when you used to bathe us before we went to bed.

- Remember? - I don't know any poems, Fraser.

- Yes, you do. You taught me one. - Which one?

"When I was going down the stair, I met a man who wasn't there.

- He wasn't there again today" - "I wish, I wish he'd go away"

- Uh-huh. Who is he? - Who is who?

- Who's that man, Sissie? - There isn't any man.

I met a man who wasn't there on the roof. Tell me who he is,

or I'll splash water all over you.

Aye, and you'll feel the back of my hand, young man.

Fraser!

I like Sissie. I like bath time with Sissie even more.

In some ways, she's even better than Grandpa Macintosh's pictures.

Now, you stay there and rest, young man.

- I want to help Dad and Andrew fire up the new boiler, Mumsie. -Oh, you'll do no such thing!

Now, rest, dear Fraser.

Oh, dear. Oh, heavens above, Edward!

- Oh, goodness me! - Whoa!

Now, Gamma-- Gamma, uh--

Moira!

What on earth has that man of yours gone and done now?

I think the heat must have cracked the joints in the pipe, Mr. Pettigrew!

Edward Pettigrew!

It's fractured the asbestos slagging.

You've dug your own grave this time! -

Now, out of the draft and underneath those covers, Fraser.

Damn and blast!

You know how Mrs. Macintosh feels about smoking around the house, sir.

Fraser, where on earth did this come from?

The moss factory. I think Auntie Heloise must have lost it.

I'll have him boiled alive in his own juices!

Moira? What's the matter, love?

Oh, don't be silly, dear. I'm only wanting to give him a fright.

Hmm.

Rotary Screen Mark III seems a little bit brighter, don't you think?

So, Fraser, what do you think of the camera work?

Oh, it's very good.

- Look! Here's Heloise and Elspeth! - Yeah.

Oh, there's Mumsie. Wave to Mumsie!

- Why is jazz horrible, Dad? - Contact!

- Lack of moral fiber. - Not like Beethoven.

That's exactly right, Fraser. Contact!

Beethoven is upright and honest, whereas jazz is sneaky and treacherous and effeminate...

and just plain foreign. - Have you got it switched on?

Of course I've got it switched on. What do you think I mean by "contact"?

- Auntie Heloise likes jazz. - Yes, well, Auntie Heloise is particularly French,

and French ladies don't understand the first thing about moral fiber.

- McPherson. - Good morning, Mr. Pettigrew.

Aye, it's a muckle big pile of letters today, is it now? Something for you, Fraser.

Thank you.

It's smelly. Smells like Auntie Heloise.

Don't be ridiculous.

Morning, Master Fraser.

So, uh, what seems to be the problem here?

- Ma'am. - It's right here. - Thank you, Aggie.

- Oh. - Are you cold, Mumsie?

Just a wee bit. Always seem to be these days.

I've run out of firelighters. You could fetch some for me, Fraser, hmm?

- Will you pay me? - Pay you?

Uh-huh. I want to save up and buy something.

Look. Here it is. Number 32.

Is this what you came up for? I thought you missed me.

- Hmm. My goodness. - Just the right size for my room.

That's a lot of firelighters. You'd best get started, young man.

A penny a dozen.

"Dear Edward, All I want is to be your sister-in-law...

and your friend.

Please let us forget what happened and what didn't happen.

No one need ever know. With best wishes"

Something's troubling him. He's not himself.

What do you think it is, Andrew?

Oh, worries about the estate, I expect--

about your uncle Morris and the changes he'll make,

the future, the family-- all the things a father worries about.

Sometimes children worry as well, though.

And what do they worry about, Fraser?

Do you think there's something evil about jazz?

Are we having a debate here, Fraser?

It's a Socratic dialogue, Andrew. It's how you find out about the world,

how it works.

I'll tell ya how it works.

In the heart of this world there's a molten core,

thousands of degrees Fahrenheit of boiling magma.

Do you know what magma is?

Well, it's like lava, only thicker.

The fundus of the boiling heart moves the continents around...

on the surface of the Earth,

and the continents crunch into one another to make the mountains.

I thought-- Didn't God make the mountains?

- In the first place? - Uh-huh.

Aye, well, there is some argument about that.

Have you carved out your lantern yet, Fraser?

- For Halloween? - Aye. Cassie and Donald have done theirs.

You'll get your shoes back for the walk home... if you're good.

Halloween is a time of great evil...

when terrible crimes and atrocities happen,

like, for instance, a gay gordance.

We're going to start with a gay gordance.

Now, since some of you probably aren't familiar with a gay gordance,

Fraser Pettigrew and Cassie Burns will lead us through it all very slowly.

- Fraser? - Mumsie.

Fraser.

Come on, everybody up! Come on!

- All together, now. - All the boys and girls. That's it!

That's it!

- I warned you, Fraser Pettigrew! - Warned me what?

- That's it. That's it! - What?

Moira. Moira!

- Edward, do something. - Stop this nonsense!

- All right! - This is ridiculous. Stop it, Finlay!

- Finlay! Edward! - All right! All right!

- Off! Off! Off! - Come on! Break it up!

- Fraser! - You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

He's touchin' my sister. He was feelin' her ass.

- He was feelin' my sister's ass and her titties as well. - That's enough.

I wasn't touchin' anybody! I was just doing the gay gordance.

- I've had lessons! - That's enough!

He told me to look after her and to see nobody touches her.

I wasn't touchin' anybody. I was doin' the gay gordance!

The Encyclopedia of Ethics also said...

that Halloween needed a human sacrificece to be any good.

Think yourselves lucky I don't thrash you both with my cane.

Now go up and apologize to Mrs. Macintosh.

This year it's me and Donald, so that makes us friends,

and Donald is taking me to see something really amazing.

Come on, you!

- Steady. - Come on.

- There we are, mate. - What are they doing?

Are they gonna have a fight? -It's a bulling. They're gonna give it a servicin'.

That's it.

- Steady, steady. - Wow.

Aye.

There we are.

The Encyclopedia says dancing with girls is one of the pleasures of the flesh,

but I didn't enjoy dancing the gay gordance.

I read about a thing called an... orgy,

and about harems.

Then I fell asleep and dreamt about Auntie Heloise.

So, when you wake up after one of these dreams, Fraser,

- Uh-huh. - And the bed's wet,

- Not hardly ever. - And it was a very nice dream that you were having--

- I hardly ever wet the bed anymore, Father. - No, I know.

- I haven't since I was very little-- - No, I know, I know, Fraser.

But if, um--

When, in the future,

you feel something well up from deep within you,

- from the core of your very being-- - Like magma?

- Uh-- What's magma? - It's--

it's like lava, only thicker.

Well, probably.

- But when you've had a very nice dream-- - I have nice dreams as well.

- Precisely. - I dreamt about Auntie Heloise playing jazz.

- It was the first dream I've ever had that had music in it. - Dear God.

Well, next time you hear music in a dream, as soon as you've waken up in the morning...

you must run down to the loch with me and have a cold plunge-- mens sana in corpore sano.

- "Healthy mind in a healthy body" - Healthy body. I know.

Yeah. Well.

Well, that's all cleared up then.

So, uh, Fraser, is there anything you'd like to ask me about?

What's an... orgy, Father?

- Uh-huh. - And, uh-- and a fellatio--

is it like a trombone the angels blow into in heaven?

Uh--

They're both, I believe, Fraser,

what we call temptations of the flesh.

I know that, but what are they?

- What are what? - Temptations of the flesh.

What are they?

Well-- What are they?

Uh, what are they?

Well, they-- Well, I'll tell you what they are.

They are to be resisted at all costs.

- Gamma? - Hmm?

Did gods in ancient Greece turn themselves into animals, really?

Well, what do you mean by "really", Fraser?

- Did they actually do it? - Well, sometimes they actually did it, in legend.

Why didn't Jesus ever turn himself into an animal, Gamma?

Oh, turning oneself into an animal isn't very Christian, Fraser.

I think if I was Jesus, though,

I would have liked to turn myself into a swan, or a bull.

I think that is quite enough about if you were Jesus, young man.

I've always wanted to be a polar bear.

Get by the fire! Hello. How are you?

- Ooh, Marnie. Ooh, Marnie. - Fraser!

Mumsie, they're here! Uncle Morris and Auntie Heloise.

Fraser, my favorite nephew! Come!

- Give a kiss to your old Auntie Heloise! - Mumsie! Mother!

Auntie Heloise and Uncle Morris!

They've arrived for the bonspiel!

- Heloise. - Yes?

- Happy? - Yes, very.

I hope you are.

Those... are the Ailsa Craigs, Fraser.

Your grandfather's favorite stones.

Aye, I used to polish them personally for him.

They're the best ones-- real beauties.

Why are they the best, Tom?

A very dense granite, and a very fine grain.

That means the stone has massive momentum,

if you've the muscle on ya to get them movin'.

Here, look at this.

Plutonic igneous granite.

What does "plutonic" mean?

Pluto was the god of darkness, a black prince of Hades.

These stones are from magma, Fraser,

forged in the very bowels of hell--

- speaking geologically, of course. - Wow!

The bonspiel is when all the curling teams from all around...

play in a huge contest.

Young Jim-- Young Jim, Big Jim.

I want a side bet for the miners. I'll have ten guineas on this one.

Ten guineas on you, boy.

Ladies and gentlemen,

today, for the first time ever,

we are competing for the Macintosh Challenge trophy.

Curling was my Samuel's passion--

a game that could be shared by all.

I dedicate this bonspiel to my dear departed husband,

Samuel Macintosh.

On my signal, let the roaring game begin!

Sweep! Sweep!

Luck of the devil. Well done, though, sweeps!

The best noise in all the world. As good as jazz.

- Are you winning, Uncle Crawford? - No. In a word, Fraser,

we're getting thrashed.

Angie's team is just limbering up against us, Fraser.

I fancy they'll be lifting the cup at the end of the day. - Not a chance.

- These miner boys are unstoppable. - Nonsense. You want to bet?

Edward, I'm a millionaire. What are you going to bet me?

- And what is that supposed to mean? - It means what do you have...

that I might want to take from you in a bet?

What do I have, Morris? What do I have?

- This. - Sorry? What?

This, this-this place, this estate.

Kiloran, the moss factory. What I have?

I'll bet you everything Andrew's team'll take the bonspiel.

- Everything. - All right, Skip!

What makes you think it's yours to bet, Edward?

Sweep! Sweep!

- And what about you, hmm? - How do you mean?

Well, what would you put up in return? Eh, Morris?

What's the millionaire got that he couldn't bear to lose?

What means more than anything? All his money?

Business? His two homes?

What means more to you than anything else?

I suppose you're referring to my wife, hmm?

And what makes you think she's yours to bet, Morris?

- Crack down, Jim Menries! - Crack down, Jim Menries!

Crack down! Crack down, Jim Menries!

Aaah!

What the hell was that?

Stone's cracked, Andrew, son. Handle's loose. The stone's rubbish, I'm afraid.

I'll get the stone, Andrew.

Oh, come on, Andrew. Hey! And--

The emperor.

The emperor of the air! The emperor's coming!

Mumsie, Mr. Chenoux's coming!

The emperor's come back to see us,

although I suspect he's really come back to see Elspeth.

Mr. Chenoux, can I have a ride in your airplane, please?

No, no, no, Fraser. You're a wee bit too young. Mr. Chenoux, meet Heloise.

Heloise, this is Mr. Chenoux.

- She's French, and, uh-- - Morris Macintosh.

I'd like to present my mother.

Hurry, lads!

Hot pot's ready! Hot pot's ready!

Come on, put the stones back.

She moves with a remarkable elegance, don't you think, Fraser?

- Auntie Heloise? - No, not your auntie-- your sister, Elspeth.

Like a swan.

- Elspeth? - Yeah.

- Whaa! - Who-Whoa!

I think the emperor wants to dance with Elspeth...

because all that's on his mind is slanking.

- Ahh! - He's French.

What a pleasure to have you in my arms.

Anyway, who wants to slank Elspeth?

- Gamma, please. - What's the matter now, Fraser?

Can Jim Menries play with Grandfather's stones if we make it to the final?

- The Ailsa Craigs-- can Jim and Andrew have-- - No, I don't think so, Fraser.

- That's not appropriate. - But Uncle Morris,

Gamma says it's a game that can be shared by everyone.

Yes, well, never mind about that, Fraser. I said no.

Now, go on, run along. Eat your stew.

Thank you, Mother. We'd better get back.

Gamma!

Get her out!

Come on, lads!

It's Mrs. Macintosh--

I never got to fly with the emperor of the air,

and Gamma died a few weeks later from pneumonia.

It's time to go now, angel. Come on.

Come on.

Gamma!

It wasn't just Gamma that died that day.

Kiloran would never be the same.

She was Kiloran,

and the world we'd always known quietly slipped away with her.

A good cry helps.

Our dear Lord surely knew what He was doing when He made it...

so easy for the ladies to have a good cry.

Moira.

Dear Moira,

Jesus came for Gamma.

In her will, Gamma decided to give the estate to us,

not Uncle Morris.

And if only Uncle Crawford would stop going on about Jesus.

Jesus held her hand.

- No, He did not! - Did not what, Fraser?

Jesus! That's a wicked fib!

You're only making it up to make Mumsie feel better.

But you're not. You're making her feel worse!

Fraser, that's quite enough. Speak to a grown-up like that.

- I>Edward, the child is upset. He's only trying-- - I'll thank you...

- not to interfere, Heloise. - Don't listen to your father, Fraser.

Leave the bloody child alone when I'm talking to him, woman.

- Don't you dare use that tone of voice with my wife! -Enough!

This is my home and I'll be damned if I'll let you throw your weight around any longer!

I think we should leave now.

My mother never saw through you, Pettigrew. I do though.

You're a shabby little Lothario. You're a--

You're a joke!

You're not fit to run my mother's estate!

My estate, Morris. My estate.

Is this really what you want, Morris, more than anything?

Hmm? Except, you see, I've already won it!

I'm not talking about the estate either, Morris.

I won the bet months ago.

Stop it!

- Stop it! Stop it! - Morris--

It was a silly bet.

Do you think I don't know...

about you and her?

I suppose you've had your hands on her.

Do you think I'm blind? That I am a fool?

Do you think I don't know that you want her--

her instead of me?

Instead of us?

Edward, please--

Edward, you must listen to me.

Understand me, Edward.

This is our home.

Morris is gone.

I only want you.

You must work out what it is you want.

I didn't mean to cause all that trouble.

- I know you didn't. - Elspeth,

is Dad gonna stay with Mumsie and the rest of us?

- I don't know, Fraser. - What did Mumsie mean when she said...

Dad's had his hands on Auntie Heloise?

Had carnal knowledge of her, like in the Bible.

Isn't that a dreadful sin?

I don't know. Is it?

Elspeth, is it like a slank?

No. That's something you do with somebody you love.

Did you do it with the emperor of the air?

That's not any of your business, Fraser.

Heloise got it for you. She brought it from Paris.

She thought it was something you might enjoy.

Louis Armstrong!

I've been a child.

It wasn't just Morris.

I'm so sorry.

The next few months weren't easy for any of us,

but Dad worked hard, and Mumsie finally forgave him.

And bit by bit, Dad remembered the knack of making Mumsie laugh.

Adultery, sins of the flesh, sins of the heart--

Where's Fraser? I thought he was with you.

- I'll go and fetch him. - Quick, or we'll miss the service.

- Where is he going? - To look for Fraser.

Ah.

On the sunny side of the street

Can't you hear that pitter-pat, babe

Your happy tune is your sound

Life can be so sweet

On the sunny side of the street

I used to walk in the shade

With those blues on parade

But I'm not afraid baby

My clover's crossed over

If I never have a cent babe

I'll be rich as Rockefeller

With gold dust at my feet

On the sunny side of the street

Grab your coat

Grab your hat

Leave your worries on the doorstep, baby

Just direct your feet

On the sunny side of the street

Just a few of my scones. All the best.

Thank you, Mrs. Henderson. Lisa.

I'll miss you, Master Fraser.

James. Have you seen my husband this morning?

Ah, Mr. Craig goes down to the walk, m'am.

He said to stop the car an honk on the way past

to say goodbyes, m'am.

What is it, Fraser?

Last summer, when father's plane crashed, was it my fault?

No, love. No.

Your father wasn't meant to fly, Fraser.

He was meant to stay here and look after us.

All the animals in his zoo. Hmm.

Off you go. Ta da.

And James, safely huh? Right m'am.

Goodbye, Fraser. Goodbye.

Goodbye. Good luck, Fraser.

Goodbye, Fraser.

Goodbye, Fraser.

Bye. Bye-bye.

Aye. The sun'll be out soon.

Let's go and get a cup of tea and a meringue.

So.

Are you all ready?

Yes.

You're all set up, then? Uh huh.

Did you get, um... Cound you...?

I see you've got your big trunk, there, and...

Listen, uh... I thought you might like to know something.

What, father?

You know that word you asked me about?

I looked it up in a... medical dictionary for you.

Fellatio?

Ah...

Um, believe you me, Fraser,

boarding school is not the place to start.

Thanks, dad.

Well...

I'm going to miss you, Fraser.

Good luck. Thanks.

See you in the holidays. Looking forward to it.

I hope you...

I'm glad he deceided to teach me something helpful, at last.

Even though I didn't have a clue what he meant, as usual.

Come on!

Anyway, that's my life so far.