All language subtitles for Dogville.2003.1080p.BluRay.x264-[YTS.LT]-English

The film "DOGVILLE" as told
in nine chapters and a prologue.

PROLOGUE (which introduces us
to the town and its residents)

This is the sad tale of
the township of Dogville.

Dogville was in the Rocky
Mountains in the US of A,

up here where the road
came to its definitive end

near the entrance to the old
abandoned silver mine.

The residents of Dogville
were good honest folks,

and they liked their township.

And while a sentimental soul
from the East Coast

had once dubbed
their main street Elm Street,

though no elm had ever
cast its shadow in Dogville,

they saw no reason
to change anything.

Most of the buildings
were pretty wretched,

more like shacks, frankly.

The house in which Tom lived
was the best, though,

and in good times, might almost
have passed for presentable.

That afternoon,
the radio was playing softly

for in his dotage,
Thomas Edison, Sr.

had developed a weakness
for music of the lighter kind.

Ladies and gentlemen,

- the President of the United States.
- My friends...

Tom, do me a favor, will you?

The radio?

Just 'cause the music's over

and you might risk hearing
something useful?

I thought that's
why we had the radio.

Well, I need to rest, as you know.

Mock me if you like.

Tom's father had been a doctor

and now received
a modest pension.

So it was no great disaster
for Tom to drift about

not doing anything
in particular.

Tom was a writer...

at any rate, by his own rights.

His output as committed to paper
was so far limited to the words

"great" and "small,"

followed by a question mark,

but nevertheless
meticulously archived

in one of his many
bureau drawers.

Bye, Dad.

Evenin', Master Tom!

Evening, Master Olivia.

You don't forget
about the meeting tomorrow.

No.

In order to postpone the time

at which he would have
to put pen to paper in earnest,

Tom had now come up
with a series of meetings

on moral rearmament,

with which he felt
obliged to benefit the town.

- Hi, kids.
- Hi, Tom.

Evening, Chuck.

Will we see you
at the meeting tomorrow?

I could do
without your lectures.

You know Vera...

wouldn't give me a moment's
peace till I said yes.

Who gave Moses that bone?

It's still got meat on it.

Jason did.

Jason gave that mutt
a bone with meat on it?!

When did we last see meat?

Next time you waste good food,
I'll take your knife away.

Ought have known it was you
who was given meat to eat.

Moses is meant to be hungry!
To keep watch.

Keep watch in Dogville?

What's there to steal?

These are wicked times,
Tom Edison.

Soon there'll be folks by
with even less than us.

Indeed, Tom was busy enough,

even though,
formally speaking,

not yet busy
with writing per se.

And if a body
found it hard to grasp

what profession he was busy at,

he'd merely reply, "mining."

For although he did not blast
his way through rock,

he'd blasted
through what was even harder--

namely, the human soul,

right into where it blistered.

- Hey, Martha.
- Hello, Tom.

They're all coming, so you just
have those benches ready.

Yes, they're ready.

Oh, but Tom, I repeat,
if you need to use my organ,

I got to get special permission
from the regional director.

And I repeat,
we don't need the organ.

We can be spiritual without singing
or reading from the Bible.

It's almost 7:00,
don't forget your bell now.

I imagine that'll do, Ma Ginger.

I don't think it's good for the soil
with all that raking and hoeing.

It's the soil
that gave life to us all.

Don't give me any of your lip,
Thomas Edison, Jr.

I'll hoe as I darn well please.

Yeah, and spoil the whole thing.

I agree with Tom.

Yeah, but he likes eating
my pies, don't you?

They're tasty, no doubt about it.

So when it comes to hoeing,
who's right, Tom, you or me?

I'm not so sure it's that simple.

He's got you there, Ginger.

You cannot resist, can you, Gloria?

Hey, Ben, I'll get the doors.

- That'll be fine, Tom.
- Any news from the freight industry?

Is everything going
to hell there too?

Don't poke fun at
the freight industry.

It was 7:00 precisely

as Martha chimed the hour.

And Tom was due to play checkers
with his childhood friend Bill Henson.

Bill was dumb and knew it.

Far too dumb to qualify
as an engineer,

he was certainly sure of that.

After listening for a while
to the pile driver down the valley

that Ben insisted was working
on the foundation

of a new penitentiary,

Tom headed for the Henson home
in order to inflict upon Bill

yet another humiliating
defeat at checkers.

Some folks might say
the opportunity

to meet Bill's older sister Liz

was more of a draw
than the checkerboard.

And they might be right.

It was a fact that
in the Henson home

lay another horizon,

a horizon just as alluring
as the one beyond the valley...

a horizon bound by Liz Henson's
luscious curves...

- Nobody's getting it?
- ...a sweet, painful, seductive abyss.

- Hey, Liz.
- Hey, Tom.

Must you come by
every single day?

Hmm?

It'd be a lot more fun if somebody
interesting appeared for a change.

You know, I really am
so lonesome in this town.

The moment my fiancé writes that he's
gotten that job in Boulder, I'm off,

then the lot of you will have to find
some other girl's skirts to peek up.

Is Bill in?

Well, isn't he always?

He studies and I help out
with the glasses,

even though everybody knows
that I'm the clever one.

- Hey, Mrs. Henson.
- Good evening, Tom.

Checkers time,
Bill ol' buddy!

What is that...?

You didn't hear the bell?

As usual, Bill tried to fake
his way around actually playing.

He had not yet
fully comprehended

this meeting business,
he claimed.

Maybe you should just let them be.

- I don't think so. I--
- What if they're just fine as they are?

You think they're fine?
I don't think so.

I think there is a lot
this country's forgotten.

I just try to refresh folks' memories
by way of illustration.

So the illustration for tomorrow...

I don't know.

See, if the people of Dogville
have a problem with acceptance,

what I really need is
something for them to accept.

Something tangible, like a gift.

Why in the heck would someone
up and give us a gift?

I don't know.

I'm gonna have
to do some thinking.

Wait, wait, wait---

We're missing a piece.

We won't be able to play.

My mind is sharp tonight.

Night, Bill.

CHAPTER ONE in which Tom
hears gunfire and meets Grace.

Despite considerable effort
on his part to prolong things,

Tom had achieved the triumph
of the checkerboard pretty quickly.

It had started to rain, and the wind
had become a regular gale

when Tom strolled home
through Elm Street.

If Tom were to prove

that the citizens of Dogville
had a problem receiving

in his lecture the next day,

he sorely lacked an illustration--

a gift.

Bill might have been right.

It hadn't exactly rained gifts
on this particular township.

There was no doubt in his mind.

They were gunshots.

The pile driver in the marshes
didn't sound like that at all.

The shots had come
from down in the valley,

or perhaps from Canyon Road,

someplace in the direction
of Georgetown.

He listened for more shots for ages,

but they were not repeated.

A tad disappointed,

Tom sat down
on the old ladies' bench to think,

to hang on to the feeling
of danger for a moment.

But it wasn't long
before his thoughts

were back on his favorite
subjects again.

And in the midst of the storm,
they metamorphosed

into articles and novels,

and great gatherings
that'd listen in silence to Tom

after the publication
of yet another volume

that scourged and purged
the human soul.

And he saw men-- and among them
even other writers--

throw their arms
around one another

as, through his words,
life had opened up for them anew.

It hadn't been easy.

But by his diligence and application
to narrative and drama,

his message had gotten through.

And asked about his technique,

he would have to say
but one word:

"Illustration."

Tom could have spent another
half hour or more on the bench,

but another unusual noise
roused him.

It was Moses barking.

Oh, that wasn't
unusual in itself,

but it was the way
he barked that was new.

His barking was not loud,

but more of a snarl, as if the danger
was quite close at hand

and not merely
a passing raccoon or fox,

as if the dog was
standing face to face

with a force
to be taken seriously.

Hey, lady!

I wouldn't go up there
if I were you.

I know the mountain well.

I doubt if I'd get away
with my life.

It's a very nasty drop.

Is there another way?

Yeah.

Where?

Back down the way
you came from,

back down to Georgetown.

Why do you need
to get up the mountain?

Did it have anything to do
with those gunshots?

Help me!
Help me, please.

Hide in the mine. In there.

Where is this road headed to?

Nowhere.
It's a dead end.

If you want the pass,
you'll have to turn around,

go back by way of Georgetown.
This place, it's called Dogville.

- Dogville?
- Yeah.

It figures. A stupid name
if I ever heard one.

- Hey, we're looking for somebody.
- Really? Who might that be?

My boss wants to talk to you.

- Young man?
- Yes, sir?

I'm looking for a girl.

She may have made her way
to your town in her confusion.

I don't want any harm
to come to her.

She's very precious to me.

Well, sir...

nobody's been through Dogville.
Moses would have barked.

- He's very suspicious of strangers.
- Uh-huh.

That's very wise of Moses.

Please take my card...

and if perhaps you see a stranger,

then give me a call.

I am in a position
to offer a considerable reward.

Yes, sir. Thank you.

Was it you that fired those shots?

Well, they're gone.

You want to come out now?

You want a cup of coffee
before you go mountain climbing?

- Yeah?
- That'd be nice.

The beautiful fugitive's
name was Grace.

She hadn't chosen Dogville
from a map

or sought out
the township for a visit.

Yet Tom felt right away
that she belonged.

Shall I take the bone?

She could have kept her
vulnerability to herself,

but she had elected to give
herself up to him at random...

as-- yes-- a gift.

"Generous,

very generous,"
thought Tom.

Do you want to eat?

- You must be hungry--
- I can't.

I don't deserve that bread.

I stole that bone.

I'd never stolen anything before.

So now--
now I have to punish myself.

I was raised to be arrogant.

So, I... I had to teach myself
these things.

Well...

it may be best
for your education...

but, Grace, in this town,

in these times...

it's very impolite not to eat
what's set before you.

I'm so sorry.

Who were the men
in the car?

Why would they want
to hurt you?

The man in the back of the car,
he's the boss.

I saw his face.

He gave me
his telephone number,

told me to call if I saw you.

I'm sure he'd offer you
a big reward

if you told him where I was.

Yeah.

- Where is your family?
- I don't have a family.

All I had was a father.

Those gangsters
took him away from me.

What if I said you could stay here?

Here? Even if you meant it,
it's impossible.

It's a very small town.

I have to hide.
People will ask questions.

That might not matter,
not if they all wanted to help you too.

Are you saying that everybody
in this town is like you?

They're good people.

They're honest people.

They've all been
in need themselves.

They might well
turn you down, but...

I think it'd be worth
the trouble to ask.

But I've got nothing
to offer them in return.

No, I think you have plenty
to offer Dogville.

To call the mood of the
audience at Tom's moral lecture

in the mission house
the next day "enthusiastic"

would have been going too far.

But they had come,

and Tom had launched
himself fearlessly

into his endeavor to illustrate
the human problem-- to receive.

The subject was obvious...

but quite dreadfully ill-considered
by this young man.

To compensate
for his lack of preparation,

Tom made diligent use
of his technique of lashing out

somewhat haphazardly
in all directions.

His father peered around covertly
to gauge the mood,

and sensing that the assembly
was not entirely happy

with his rather direct criticism,

he decided to forestall any protests.

I'm sure that
you wish us well, Tom.

But, of any town,

I believe this one has
a very fine sense of community.

Living side by side,
we all know one another.

I'm a pretty fair judge
of character myself.

Honestly, Tom,
you've done it again!

Made us come here to listen
to a lot of nonsense.

What do you think you are,
some kind of philosopher?

- Observant, that's what I am.
- Lazy, I would say.

We shovel snow together.

- You shovel snow together?
- Yeah.

Every household clears
their own front walk!

I gotta allow
that Tom's right on that.

- The roads don't get cleared proper--
- Shh!

I'm sorry, Tom, you'll have to come up
with something better than that.

The whole country
would be better served

with a greater attitude
of openness and acceptance.

You're not suggesting
we all wouldn't help out

- if somebody needed help?
- No, that's not the point.

- We care for human beings up here!
- We'll probably never find out.

Since nobody seems to want
to admit that there is a problem...

let me illustrate.

I'm not going to use something
that's already happened.

I'm going to use something
that's just about to happen.

And after providing a
quick summary of the events

of the previous evening
to the astonished people of Dogville,

Tom went down to the mine

to retrieve the fugitive
from her hideaway.

Allow me to introduce Grace.

Grace, these are the...

citizens of Dogville.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Tom has told us
about your predicament, miss.

I really don't want to put
any of you in jeopardy.

Why don't you just go to the police?
They can take care of gangsters.

- It's their job.
- I don't know that that's a good idea.

- In the transportation business--
- Ben!

These men, they have
powerful connections...

even with the police.

You think we should give
sanctuary to a fugitive?

A fugitive that gangsters
want to get ahold of?

Well, that would put us
in a pretty pickle--

Easy, Claire,
think of your asthma.

Dogville's a good place to
hide, that's for certain.

Exactly. The only way up here
is Canyon Road.

That could easily be watched by
Ma Ginger's-- excuse me-- nosey cousin

who lives only yards
from the turnoff.

She has a telephone.
Martha, you could ring the bell,

tell the town
if people were coming.

But, Tom, I chime the hours.

What if people get confused
with all the ringing?

Come now, Martha.
Surely we can use our old bell

to save a life if need be.

- Why should we?
- Because we care, Chuck.

- We care for human beings.
- That ain't what I mean.

How do we know this woman
is telling us the truth?

Maybe these gangsters
did shoot at her.

That don't make her
somebody to be trusted.

He's right.

Why would you trust me?

- I trust you.
- Tom, we're not gangsters.

We mind our own business.

We don't ask nothing
from nobody.

- So at last you admit it?
- If only there was some way

that we wouldn't doubt
the young lady's word,

some way to know her,
then I think we'd all ignore the risk.

There is a way.
You said it yourself--

by living side by side
with her.

Dad, you're such a fine
judge of character.

How long would it take a man
like you to unmask her?

A week?

Maybe two?

Surely we can offer her
two weeks!

And if after that time, so much
as one man cries out, "Be gone!"

I promise I'll happily
send her packing myself.

Well, if Master Tom think
this is right for us,

and for the community, then,

that'll do for me.

He might be young,
but his heart is right.

And I've known his heart
for as long as it's been beating.

No more words were spoken at the
town meeting in the mission house.

But it had been decided,
they all felt,

that the fugitive would be
given two weeks.

And they would all be able
to look at themselves in the mirror

and know that they had done
what they could indeed,

and perhaps more
than most people would have done.

So, that very afternoon,

Tom took Grace on a stroll
down Elm Street

to introduce her
to the town he loved.

Well, this is where...

Olivia and June live.
June's a cripple.

They live here as a token
of my dad's broad-mindedness.

Chuck and Vera, they have seven children
and they hate each other.

Next door, we have the Hensons.

They make a living from grinding
the edges off cheap glasses

to try and make
them look expensive.

Moving on we have Jack McKay.

Jack McKay, he's blind
and the whole town knows it,

but he thinks he can hide it
by never leaving his house.

In the old stable,
Ben keeps his truck.

He drinks, and he visits
the whorehouse...

once a month,
and he's ashamed of it.

Martha, she runs
the mission house

until the new preacher comes,

which will just never happen.

And that leaves
Ma Ginger and Gloria.

They run this really
expensive store

where they exploit the fact
that nobody leaves town.

We used to leave to go vote,

but since they put in
the registration fee--

it's about a day's
wages for these people--

Dogville didn't feel
the democratic need anymore.

Those awful figurines say more
about the people in this town

- than many words.
- If this is the town that you love,

then you really have
a strange way of showing it.

All I see is...

a beautiful little town
in the midst of...

magnificent mountains.

A place where people
have hopes and dreams...

even under the hardest conditions.

And seven figurines
that are not awful at all.

Calling Dogville beautiful
was original at least.

Grace was just casting
one more look at the figurines

she herself would have dismissed
as tasteless a few days earlier,

when she suddenly sensed

what would best
have been described

as a tiny change of light
over Dogville.

They're keeping an eye on you.

If you love them already,

they might need a little persuading.

We've got two weeks
to get them to accept you.

You make it sound
like we're playing a game.

Well, yes...

we are.

Isn't saving your life
worth a little game?

- What do you want me to do?
- Do you mind physical labor?

No.

Dogville offered you two weeks.

Now you offer them.

CHAPTER TWO in which Grace follows Tom's
plan and embarks upon physical labour.

The next day was a
beautiful day in Dogville.

The tender leaves on Ma Ginger's
gooseberry bushes

were unfurling despite
wise Tom's misgivings

as regards her gardening methods.

But more than that,

this first day of spring

had also been picked to be
Grace's first-ever day of work,

the day in which she was
to set off around Dogville

and offer herself
one hour per household per day.

Excuse me.

I'd like to offer you my help.

If there's anything
that you need...

Yeah...

a carburetor that don't leak.

All right, here.
Let me take that.

Maybe I could help
around your home.

I don't really have a home, miss.

- Just the garage.
- Oh.

I'm in the freight business.
The road's my home.

I'm ready.
Good morning.

Miss Olivia's got a home.

She's looking to help out
in somebody's home.

A cleaning lady for a cleaning lady?!

You be talking nonsense, Mr. Ben.

- Have a good day.
- All right.

See you later on.

And off Ben went to Georgetown
with the weekly shipment

of glasses that Mr. Henson had
so laboriously cleansed

with his polisher of any trace
of their cheap manufacture.

So Grace turned into the alley,

which went by the exotic name
"Glunen Street"...

...to knock on the door of the blind,
but only too vain, man.

Yes?

Good morning, Mr. McKay.
My name is Grace.

I was wondering if there's
anything I can do for you.

Oh, that's very kind
of you, Grace, but--

I was thinking that perhaps
because of...

the situation that you're in...

What situation am I in?

Ummm...

you're...

you're on... your own.

Oh...

I've been on my own
for so long.

Anything that you might need?

I'm sorry.

Have you ever noticed
the wooden spire

on the roof of the mission house?

At 5:00 in the afternoon,

it points a shadow
at Ginger's grocery store,

right at the "O"

in "Open" on the sign
in the window.

Maybe it's telling people that
it's time to go shopping for supper.

Goodbye, Mr. McKay.

Goodbye, Grace.

Grace's interview
with Jack McKay

proved sadly symptomatic
of the attitude in Dogville--

reserved but friendly,

not without curiosity.

Only Jack had expressed his "no"
concisely and precisely.

Martha needed a monologue
almost an hour long

to arrive at the same conclusion.

Oh my goodness.
I--I--I'd have to think

of work for you to do, because
I barely have enough work myself.

So, not very much later,
Grace had ended up

next to Ma Ginger's
gooseberry bushes

in a mood that was not
particularly good.

She could not tell
a gooseberry bush from a cactus,

but the meticulous order
in the yard appealed to her,

such as the metal chains
placed there

in order to shield
the second and third bushes

lest anybody decided
to make use

of the deplorably time-honored
shortcut to the old lady's bench.

Grace pulled herself together

and headed towards the store.

- Hello.
- Hi.

Hello. We don't need
any help here either.

I told that to Tom.

Well, it doesn't matter anyway

because there's nothing I can do.

I've never worked
a day in my life, so...

You know, if you put some aloe
on those hands of yours,

they'll be better by the morning.

It's the wood shavings.

I really do hate them.

But I do believe
I'll take your advice.

Your hands are surely the most
alabaster hands I've ever seen.

Here comes Tom.
How lucky we are!

- Hi, all. Liz.
- Hello, Tom.

Grace.

- How is all going?
- Not very well, I'm afraid.

- Really?
- No. Nobody needs any help.

Well, I thought
that might be the case.

His plan to make
everybody like me

has run into a few problems

because nobody wants me
to work for them.

I would really like to offer
something in return.

You're all running a terrible risk
having me here...

I mean, I'm willing to learn.

There must be somebody
who needs help.

- Mr. McKay's sight is not so good--
- Yes, I went to Mr. McKay.

I went to Martha
and to Chuck and Vera's,

and nobody seems to need any help.

They all think everyone else needs
something, and not themselves.

Funny, that's exactly
what Tom said!

- I suppose he's pleased.
- Well...

Just to prove him wrong...

maybe you can lend a hand here.

But, Ginger, there really isn't
anything we need done.

Perhaps there's something
you don't need doing.

- Anything we don't need done?
- Something--

something that
you would like done,

but that you don't think
is necessary.

What on earth would that be?

Maybe the gooseberry bushes?

The gooseberries are just fine.
Thank you very much.

Not yours. The one that planted
themselves in the tall grass?

We don't grow anything there.

Exactly.

A bit of tidying up.

Who knows,

those bushes might
one day bear fruit.

Yeah, that's true.
That's true. Who knows?

All right, girl.

Those alabaster hands of yours

are hereby engaged to weed
the wild gooseberry bushes.

There you go.

Thank you.

Around...

like this, you see?

Anything too close to them,
just be careful.

There you-- oh!

After a few of the wild
little gooseberry bushes

had given up the ghost
in the care

of Grace's as yet unpracticed
alabaster hands,

things began looking up
with the weeding...

- Quick study.
- ...and the town.

In fact, it turned out,
there were not so few things

that the other townsfolk of Dogville
didn't need doing either.

As Ben had no home,

Grace's domestic experiments were
absolutely things he didn't need,

but he put up with them anyhow,
appearing with astonishing punctuality

when the act of domesticity
had been completed,

no matter how unpredictable
business hours

in the freight industry
might otherwise have been.

Olivia didn't need anyone to help June
to the toilet while she was at work,

as hitherto
they had coped splendidly

with Olivia's excellent
diaper arrangement.

If Jack McKay had needed
a partner for conversation,

he would surely have gone out
and gotten one for himself in the town.

So, it was not out of need
that he allowed Grace to sit with him

in his dark parlor with the dramatic
drapes on one wall

for lengthy discussions regarding
the underestimated qualities

of the light on the East Coast.

As Martha wouldn't dream
of burdening the parish

with wear and tear
of the pedals and bellows

while waiting for a new
priest to be appointed,

she practiced without a note
ever leaving the organ.

And was therefore
not really in need

of anyone to turn her pages.

And God knows

that Mr. and Mrs. Henson's son
did not need any help with his books,

and that the family had taken Grace in
for her own sake.

My hands are getting
much better.

Yes!

And although Liz's
hands had improved

through Grace's good counsel,

Thomas Edison was a doctor,
and of indisputable health.

And he did not need
care or help

with the pills from the medicine
closet with its many secrets.

Actually, Chuck was the only one
"not yet hooked," as Tom put it.

- Hooked?
- Hooked.

You sound so arrogant.

Arrogance is the worst thing!

He doesn't like me.

And he has every right
to feel that way.

Yeah. Listen...

luckily, I've prepared
a Trojan horse.

- A what?
- A Trojan horse.

We can get in by way of Vera.

There's this lecture tomorrow
in Georgetown...

given by some professor.

It's some intellectual thing...

but not so intellectual
he can't tour the provinces with it.

Anyway, the point is,
Vera, she'd do anything to go.

But she's got no one to mind
Achilles while she's gone.

She trusts the girls mastering
their iambic pentameters,

but not with the little one.

So this is where you come in--
I said that you

would watch him
tomorrow afternoon.

Now, I'll try and stall her
on her way home.

With a bit of luck, Chuck
will get back before she does

and you can use the time
and all of your charm

to try and win him over.

I will happily mind Achilles
if Vera will let me.

But if he doesn't like me,
he doesn't like me.

Tom really was enchanted by this
unusual, mysterious creature.

And even though she did not
satisfy his curiosity

by saying anything
about her past,

so as not to put anyone
in danger,

she still fitted Tom's mission

to educate Dogville on the subject
of acceptance like a glove.

Tom felt content.

Grace had been dangling
over the edge,

and he had been the one
to pull her back onto the path.

It gave him a fine
sensation of mastery,

new for him in terms
of the opposite sex.

And his feelings unleashed
the best in his burgeoning love.

Hello.

- This is Dahlia...
- Mmm-mm.

...Olympia, Diana,

Athena, Pandora,

Jason, Achilles.

Go play.

Your children are lovely.

They are good kids.

Mmm.

And I love them.

Please don't say such
nice things about the kids.

I cry too easily...

both in sorrow and in joy.

- Okay, Vera.
- Oh, hi.

- Ready to go?
- I'm ready.

Thanks for leaving the map out.

I'd have probably
forgot it, I'm sure.

How did you know
I was going that far?

Last time I saw the thermos,

it was on the doorstep
and the map was beside it,

so I just thought...

when I saw the thermos this time
and no map that--

You're a sweet girl, Grace.

- Sweet as Miss Laura.
- Who's Miss Laura?

You gave yourself away again, Bill.

I think Miss Laura is
what Ovid might call a Maenad.

Oh.

Don't be ashamed, Ben.

We all have the right
to make the most of our lives.

I'm sure that those ladies
in those houses,

they bring a lot of joy
to a lot of men.

Ain't nothing I'm proud of.

It really ain't.

It's all right.

I know what you're doing here.

You do?

You want people to like you...

so you don't have to go away.

You're very smart.

Yes, I like it here in Dogville.

So you want me to read to you

about the Cyclops?

I don't like the Cyclops.

Two eyes are prettier.

Like yours.

If you want my ma to like you
and let you stay,

you just have to be nice to me.

Maybe you should help me
clean up instead.

- Come on.
- My ma says I don't have to work.

- Except in my head.
- But what about if I ask you?

Please?

Okay.

What are you doing here?

Didn't I tell you
we don't need no help from you?

- Ma asked her to mind me and Achilles--
- Quiet! Get out,

the lot of you.

Same nonsense.

They'd have done just great
in antiquity, no doubt.

How's it going otherwise,
with the fooling act?

I wasn't trying to fool anyone.

I mean Dogville.
Has it got you fooled yet?

I thought you were implying
that I was trying to exploit the town.

Oh, wishful thinking.

This town is rotten...

from the inside out.

Wouldn't miss it
if it fell into the gorge tomorrow.

I see no charm here.

You seem to.

Admit it,
you've fallen for Dogville.

The trees, the mountains...

the simple folk,

if all that ain't got you fooled yet,
I bet the cinnamon has.

That damn cinnamon
in those gooseberry pies.

Dogville's got everything
you ever dreamed of in the big city.

You're worse than Tom.

How do you know
what I've dreamed of?

You're from the city yourself,
aren't you?

That was a long time ago.

I'm not that stupid anymore. I found out
that people are the same all over--

greedy as animals.

In a small town they're just
a bit less successful.

Feed them enough,
they'll eat till their bellies burst.

That's why you want
to be rid of me,

because you can't stand
that I remind you

of what it was
you came here to find.

I'm telling you for the last time
to get out of my home.

Moses don't like you,
and I don't like you.

Kids are going crazy enough
from their ma's teaching.

Thank you, Grace.

CHAPTER THREE in which Grace
indulges in a shady piece of provocation.

The two weeks had
passed far too quickly.

Grace had enjoyed herself.

All she could say was
that she was fond of them all,

including the folk who had greeted her
with reluctance and hostility.

Even though she might not have won
everybody over completely,

or even half way, as Tom put it,

she cared for Dogville.

And she had shown the town her face.

Her true face.

But was that enough?

During Jack McKay's
long lecture that evening,

she had found herself
in a heart-searching mood.

Whether heart searching or concern
for her future was the cause,

the result was that
the otherwise so-lovable Grace

indulged in a pretty shady
piece of provocation.

So, you agree...

that the windows in St. Bridget's--

the first time you saw them--

didn't live up
to their reputation?

- Mmm-mm.
- I don't think it's the position...

of the church itself.

No, no, maybe it's...

the light in Los Angeles,

and the mosaic glass
in those windows.

They kind of collide.

I remember thinking that.

I think we've talked long enough

about the way we remember
seeing things.

- Don't you?
- Well...

Why don't we talk
about something...

that we can see right now?

There's not much
to see around here.

Wretched town.

Why don't we talk
about the view?

Well...

I don't go out much.

You know, the-- the-- the sun...

my skin.

Yesterday, I was walking
in Chuck's apple trees.

If you go right up
to the edge of the cliff...

you just manage to peer
around Ben's garage,

and you get a view of your house
from the side facing the gorge.

- Well.
- I didn't realize there was...

windows behind there.

Huge windows.

It must be a wonderful view.

Would you mind
if I opened them?

You're no fool, Miss Grace.

You're no fool.

You probably see that
those curtains are hard to open.

I'm sorry.

And obviously concluded
it's because...

- I'm sorry.
- ...they're not used very often.

But the view is good.

Entrancing, even.

So...

ask me why a man
who loves the light...

hanged these heavy curtains.

Yes, I'm blind.

Not weak-sighted,

not myopic,

blind.

So...

please go...

and let me be that on my own.

In Switzerland,

they call it

the Alpenglünen.

That's the light

that reflects
from the highest peaks,

after the sun

goes down behind the mountains.

And now it's gone.

It was in complete silence

that the people of Dogville turned up
for the meeting at the mission house

two weeks to the day since
the beautiful fugitive had come to town.

Grace was standing beside Tom,
watching them convene

and knew inside herself
that this might well be the last time

she would see
these now-so-familiar faces.

She had at least
two of them against her,

and even one
would have been too many.

Welcome,

good people of Dogville,

two weeks--

two weeks have passed

and it's time for your verdict.

Is it right that she should be here
while we talk?

Well, Mrs. Henson,
when Grace first came,

she made no attempt
to hide her weakness from us,

I think it's only right
that we'd be as open with her.

Tell her to her face if we...

want her to leave.

No, Mrs. Henson's right.

Nobody should be prevented
from speaking their mind

out of politeness.

I'll wait at the mine

and if the vote says
that I should leave,

then I'll take the path
across the...

across the mountains
while it's still light.

All of the things
that I've borrowed,

if you could return them
to everybody.

- Of course.
- Nobody has to see me before I go.

Martha, if you'll just ring the bell,
then I'll understand.

Well, I don't--

how do you want me
to ring the bell?

Just ring it for every vote
that lets me stay.

I'll count.

and if it doesn't reach 15, then...

then I'll leave.

Tom is anxious
to speak in her behalf,

but I think he's had
his allotted time.

We know his view.
We respect it.

And now
he must respect ours.

Grace pulled her bundle out

from under the bureau
to change into her own clothes

only to discover
that somebody had been in it

and left a loaf of bread.

Next to it
was a folded sheet of paper.

It was a map Tom had drawn.

He had known where the bundle was
and had put it there.

It showed the path
across the mountain,

and all the dangerous spots
were furnished

with witty horrific little sketches.

But there was more...

several people
had had the same idea.

They had eased gifts
into the bundle for her.

Jason's beloved little penknife
lay there, all polished and shiny.

And a pie
from Ma Ginger and Gloria.

And some clothing
and matches and a hymnal.

Grace opened it at number 18

where Martha always had trouble
with the fingering,

and between the pages,
lay a dollar bill.

Martha alone
could not have afforded it.

Grace had friends in Dogville.

That was for sure.

Whether they were few or many
did not matter a jot.

Grace had bared her throat
to the town

and it had responded
with a great gift...

with friends.

No gangster could deprive her
of this meeting with the township,

no matter how many guns
in the world.

And should the strokes of the bell
not reach 15,

she knew now that she meant
something to the town

and that her stay
had been of significance.

Not much perhaps,

but nevertheless
a trace she had left.

And the first in her young life

in which she took pride.

Grace stiffened
as the bell began its toll.

Twelve.

14...

14, Grace counted.

So McKay must have
voted for her after all.

And if so,

why not Chuck too?

Everyone?

- And Chuck.
- Chuck?!

Everyone.

I think they like you here.

CHAPTER FOUR
"Happy times in Dogville"

The period of spring and early summer

proved a happy one for Grace.

Martha rang the hours,
conducting her through the day,

so she could serve
as eyes for McKay,

- a mother for Ben,
- Right.

a friend for Vera,

and brains for Bill.

And one day it had
occurred to Grace

to tread the pedals herself

so as to get Martha to agree

to play a couple of proper notes

just to empty the bellows naturally
so that they wouldn't be

left under pressure
and thus be spoiled.

And now they had tacitly agreed

that as long as it was Grace
who trod the pedals

Martha could play
without feeling any guilt.

To Tom's pop, the old doctor
who imagined he had a new ailment

every single day and was thus
increasingly addicted

to the simpler coordination tests
from his medical school days,

she had to be severe,

telling him that there was
nothing wrong with him.

And now since the town
had agreed

that everyone was to give
according to his abilities,

she received wages-- not much,

but enough to save up

for the first of the tiny
china figurines

from the row of seven
that had stood for so long

gathering dust in the window
of the store.

And she dreamed that in time,

she would be able
to acquire them all.

- Don't make sense.
- I wanted to be--

Slowly those alabaster hands
turned into a pair of hands

that could have belonged to anyone
in any little rural community.

And three weeks later,
she triumphantly moved into a place

Tom and Ben had secretly restored--

namely the old mill,

which had once held
the town's ore crusher,

but of which only the heavy
flywheel now remained.

- Hmm?
- Thanks.

See, that's what I'm talking about

with the freight industry.

Miss Laura had thrown that out.
It was no use to anybody

just a good thing
in the wrong place, but--

From a truck, you know?

You shouldn't poke fun
at the freight industry, that's all.

No, you're right, Ben,
they shouldn't.

Grace?

What?

I just had to tell you I had
a really selfish reason

for voting to keep you
in Dogville.

What was it?

It was such a relief
when you turned up,

and you were the one
all the men had eyes for.

You know, Tom and them?

I had to put up with it for long.

Frankly, I just didn't have
the energy for it anymore.

They'll always have eyes
for you, Liz.

You know that.

- They will.
- Okay.

- You're beautiful.
- Thank you, Grace.

The very latest development

now that summer was at its peak

was that Grace had been given leave

to help Chuck in the orchard.

And every day at 5:00,
once their work was done,

she could appreciate
that actually McKay was right.

The shadow of the spire

did indeed point at Ma Ginger's store.

But today

the tower did not only announce
that it was time to go shopping,

but also-- by a signal which nobody,
despite Martha's initial concerns,

could have confused
with the ringing of the hours--

a warning that somebody
was approaching

by a canyon road
from Georgetown.

For the first time in living memory

law enforcers had come to Dogville.

Good evening, sir.

This the whole place?

- Is there a town hall?
- No.

I got me a notice
to paste up.

We've got the mission house.

- That do you?
- Sure.

What'd she do?

Missing, that's all it says.

I guess somebody's
been missing her.

Heard tell she was
last seen around here.

We're putting these things up
all over the county.

If somebody sees her,
they ought to go to the police?

I guess that's the idea.

These men were never
gonna give in easily.

Now these posters,
they hang all over the county...

which means nobody suspects
she's right here with us.

No, but it was a policeman, Tom.

Isn't it a duty to respond
to the police?

I mean legally speaking.

I--I'm sorry.

I just--
when I get upset, I cough.

She's a missing person,
she hasn't done anything.

- He even said so.
- I think you should vote again.

Why?
We can't resort to plebiscites

time and time again.

Oh, come on,

who's really got cold feet
because of a picture and piece of paper?

CHAPTER FIVE
"Fourth of July after all"

The fourth of July came

with huge clouds of seeds
from some remote meadow

gracefully floating down Elm Street
in the early evening.

Today was a day for celebration.

Nobody was to worry
about the hard times.

And Grace could stop
at Ma Ginger's window quite content

to ascertain that only two
of the little china figurines remained.

And were thus the only two

she had not yet been able
to save up enough to purchase.

- It looks great, girls.
- Mm-hmm.

Grace, will you put in
a couple of hours with me?

In the orchard again today?

It's real nice down there
with the sunshine.

Chuck, it's the Fourth of July.

What are you talking
about sunshine for?

Have you turned
into a romantic like me?

- No.
- We're gonna have fun.

During the winter,
we'll all starve.

Even Ben's taking the day off.

- Hi.
- Hey, Tom.

Gracie, you got a moment?

- Now?
- Yeah.

I've got something
interesting to tell you.

Uh...

well, it has to be quick.

I got so much going on in my head.

That must be very tiring for you.

I think I've done a pretty good analysis
of the folks in this town and...

I think I understand them...

in a meaningful way.

But when I come to decipher you,

I get absolutely nowhere.

You know, Liz--

Liz is easy to read.

And there was some
attraction between us.

But as I can see right through her,

intellectually, I mean,
I can see right through her.

My desire was purely of a physical--

physical nature.

But with you

it's...

- What?
- it's more-- it's more complicated.

What are you trying to say?

No, I should get it clearer
in my head first.

Are you trying to say that...

you're in love with me?

No, I wouldn't--

Love is what--
it's not--

It's a big word-- yeah.

Yeah.

Well, that's good.

Hmm...

Because...

I think that I'm in love with you too.

Very interesting, isn't it?

I mean it's interesting
in a psychological--

Did they call you?
I think they're...

calling you.

I didn't hear them.

No.

You should...

probably get back anyway.

I'll see you at the wedding--
uh, celebration. Sorry.

♪ America ♪

♪ America ♪

♪ God shed his grace on thee ♪

♪ And crown thy good
with brotherhood ♪

♪ From sea to shining sea. ♪

- Bravo.
- Yay.

Well done!

This year I didn't bring
any notes with me

'cause I'm not gonna pretend
I can read them.

Which brings me to a point,

a point I want to make.

And that point is,

you, Grace.

Yes, you've made Dogville

a wonderful place to live in.

Yeah, as a matter of fact,

somebody tells me they ran
into grumpy old Chuck on the street

and he was actually smiling.

Well, I've never
seen your smile, Grace,

but I will bet you
I could describe it.

Hmm?

Because it obviously has every color

that's refracted from the shiniest

prism in the world.

And you probably have a face
to match that, huh?

Does she have a face
to match that, Tom?

- Yes, sir.
- Huh?

- Yes, sir.
- I'll bet she does.

We are proud
to have you among us.

Hm-mm!

And we thank you

for showing us who you are.

Here's to you, Grace.

Stay with us as long
as you damn please.

To Grace.

Stop!

A police car
has just been seen in town

and it's just made the turn
up Canyon Road.

- So he'll be here any minute.
- Should I ring the bell?

No, Martha,
Grace probably heard.

- We'll get rid of him quickly--
- Better go, honey, go.

Don't worry.

Should have been celebrating myself
if this hadn't have come up.

I gotta change this
missing persons notice.

It's that lady again.

It's why she disappeared.

She's wanted in connection with some
bank robberies on the West Coast.

When did these robberies take place?

Last couple of weeks.

- All right.
- You don't get much news up here?

My dad's radio only plays music.

All I know is they say
she's dangerous--

and that anyone with any information
about her better call us pronto.

That's the law.

Two weeks.

Can't be our girl, Tom.

- No, she's been here all the time.
- Right.

She couldn't have done
what they're accusing her of.

No, that's true, Tom, you're right.

Still it's an unpleasant business
just the same.

Grace was the same and so was the town.

That the gangsters had fixed
to have charges

made against Grace
and their efforts to neutralize her

came as no surprise.

But everything had changed a little
yet again.

I'm telling you, you have exactly
the same kind of little lump

in exactly the same spot
on the other side of your back.

- Really?
- I can only assume...

that it belongs on your body.

But you are the doctor,

so...

It's very unlikely, don't you think,

that a cancer would develop
in such precise symmetry?

- Mr. Edison, please--
- No, don't you--I mean--

- we have been over this so many times.
- Anything's possible.

I think you have to accept the fact

that you are an exceptionally healthy

elderly gentleman.

I'm gonna rest just the same.

I'll see you in the morning.

I hope so.

What? What did they say?

Well...

I couldn't really argue
that anything had changed, but...

by not telling the police they felt that
they were committing a crime themselves.

- I think I should leave.
- No.

- Enough is enough.
- I have suggested the opposite.

- You did?
- From a business perspective--

from a business prospective your--

your presence in Dogville
has become more costly...

because it's more dangerous
for them to have you here--

not that they don't want you.

It's just they feel
there should be some

counterbalance.

Some quid pro quo.

That sounds like words
the gangsters would use.

But there is also more of an incentive
for you to want to stay.

See, with all of those wanted posters
hanging around the place,

I can hardly think of anywhere else
you could hide.

So what's the counterbalance
that you suggest?

Right, well...

they wanted you
to work longer hours.

But instead, what I proposed

is that

you just pay a visit to folks
twice a day now.

That way it would seem
that you're willing to contribute more

without actually lengthening
your day too much.

It's just a way of heading off
any unpleasantness.

But it sounds--

it sounds a little peculiar,
difficult to put into practice.

That's what I thought.

Martha, she said she'd ring her bell
every half hour

so you could keep track
of your new schedule.

Then they're all willing
to let me stay?

No.

Mrs. Henson, she also

thought we should cut your pay.

- So--
- Merely a symbolic gesture.

It was--

You see the word dangerous
on the poster worried her.

I'm willing to do whatever it takes.

If I have to work

harder, longer hours for less pay,

then I'm wiling to do that,
of course I am.

I just want to be sure

that they wouldn't prefer
that I left town.

Of course not.

You think this is for the best?

I know it is.

I have to get some sleep.

My days are gonna be
much busier now.

I'm sorry.

Tom.

I just need to know something.

You know the card
that the man in the car gave you?

Yeah.

Did you show it to anyone?

Come on, Grace.

I burned it first thing.

I am being so silly,

of course you did.

It's all right, it's all right.

No, it's not all right.

I--I hate it for you
to see me like this.

I can't bear that I'm doubting you.

I'm sorry. Good night.

Everybody was really against

any changes to Grace's
working conditions at all

when the subject occasionally
came up in conversation.

Oh, Ben had declared in sympathy
that he wouldn't accept

any more work than before--
and Grace was grateful for that.

Even if he was a bit drunk
when he said so.

Busy minutes became busy hours,

and busy hours became busy days.

And irrespective of whether they thought
the idea of increasing Grace's services

had any fairness
and justification to it or not,

it didn't seem to make anyone
any happier,

more to the contrary.

Oh...

Grace, oh,
you have to be more careful.

Liz wasn't very careful either,

but she didn't break our glasses.

I think you need to understand
that Mr. Henson

works very hard
to grind off any traces of the molds.

It makes the glass weak.

- I thought you knew that.
- It won't happen again.

Of course I'll pay for it.

No, of course not,
you don't have to pay us for it.

We'll get over it.

And off she went again to keep
her appointment with Chuck,

to free the last tree trunks
from the grass,

in order to keep
the ever busy mice away.

She was in a hurry
and took the shortcut

between the gooseberry bushes,

only to brought up by a shout.

- Grace!
- Yes.

Oh...

I didn't see that you just
raked the path. I'm sorry.

It isn't that I just raked it,
the idea is

for people to pass
around the bushes completely.

I prefer it that way,
as you should know.

I thought that these chains
were put up to--

to make a path
between the bushes.

They were put up to protect the bushes.
It's not supposed to be a pathway.

But everyone goes this way.

Yeah, that's right,

but they've been living here for years,

you haven't been here that long.

Are you saying that I'm less entitled

to use the shortcut because

I haven't always lived here?

Of course not.

No, I just thought it pleased you
to be here, that's all.

Go on, go on, it's all right.

- I'll see you this afternoon.
- Okay.

And I'll rake those bushes
like they've never been raked before.

I promise.

I'm sorry about that branch,

there were so many apples on it.

I should have cut that branch,
but I got greedy.

Is it greedy to want
to feed your family?

So how come you don't like me?

Why do you ask me that?

When I get close to you,
you edge away.

No, I don't.

You did so

when we were thinning
the seedlings in the bottom row.

How am I supposed to show you what I do
if I ain't allowed to touch you?

You tried to kiss me.

Vera never took any interest
in the apples.

She hates the orchard.

This is the first time I ever met
anyone who understood about the apples.

Sorry it made me so happy.

- It's all right.
- No, it ain't all right.

I reckon the stuff about the apples
is just words in your mouth.

You can't really share my pleasure.

I do.

Vera wants me picking apples from trees
that are barely in the ground.

Things take time, that's love!

Seeing what they need
and respecting those needs,

if anyone understands that it's you.
At least I thought so.

- I do understand that.
- But you edge away when I get close.

N--

Why do you find me so repugnant?

I don't find you repugnant, I--

Don't be upset.

I'm sorry if I doubted you.

It won't happen again...

I promise you.

I wouldn't make that promise
if I was you.

When you fended me off,
a thought came into my mind.

It made me ashamed.

A thought that you'd hate me for.

I would never hate you--

never.

What?

Chuck, I treated you unfairly,

it's all right
to have angry thoughts.

I thought of turning you in.

I thought of blackmailing you
into respecting me.

It means that much to you?

It does, doesn't it?

You've really been alone up here,
haven't you?

You haven't had anyone
to comfort you.

And I should ask you
for forgiveness.

Still friends?

Sorry. Are you asleep?

No.

Want me to leave?

No, I was just resting.

Awful lot to do
here in Dogville considering...

nobody needs anything done.

Jason wants to sit
on my lap all the time.

I think you're doing a wonderful job.

You give us all so much.

What Mr. McKay said,
right on the button.

Right on the button.

He tried to put his hand
on my knee today.

Well, he's blind, after all.

It was probably an accident.

Ma Ginger

got angry at me
for running across the gravel path.

Well, good.
She gets angry at me.

Mmm.

It just means you're one of us now.

You can see through it all,
can't you?

I tell you, I'm gonna be asleep
in two minutes.

What if I don't want you
to go to sleep?

I don't think you have
a choice tonight.

I do love you, Grace.

I'm glad you love me,
I love you too.

I really do.

I mean I yearn for you when...

when I'm not with you.

Hmm...

I yearn for you even when we're...
alone like this.

I yearn to be even closer to you,

to touch you the way
that people--

We have our whole lives
ahead of us.

The thing that I love about you is
that you don't demand anything of me,

that we can just-- just be together.

- Yeah.
- Oh...

Yearning
will only make it better.

Thank you for your...

your words,
your wise, wise words.

You're welcome.

You want your shoes off?

CHAPTER SIX
in which Dogville bares its teeth.

Jason, what are you doing here?

That's wrong.

The words have to be
divided differently.

Stop it!

How's that for dividing
the words?

This is not a good day.
Everybody should leave.

Everybody except Jason.
Jason, I want to talk to you alone.

What is it?
What's going on?

- I can be very bad.
- What...?

Bet my Pa told you.

I don't think that.

I think there is
another reason for this.

I would love to have you
on my lap all the time

but I can't,
not with the others here.

When somebody can't do all the things
they'd like to do for others,

sometimes the people
they promised get mad.

That's what Mrs. Henson says.

Yes, that's true.

I suppose I know why you won't let me
sit in your lap anymore.

- Why?
- Because I've been mean lately.

Oh, come on, I'm sure you have
your reasons for that.

I've been mean to the others too.

Even baby Achilles.

And he's so tiny,
he can't put up a fight.

- It's not right.
- No, it's not.

I got it coming to me.

- I know, I deserve a spanking.
- What?

I should hit you?
I'm not gonna do that.

Your mother doesn't believe in physical
discipline, I'm not gonna hit you.

I know. She'd be awful mad
if she found out you whipped me.

Oh--I just said I won't do that, so...

It's good
having Ma on your side, right?

It would be pretty serious
if she turned against you.

I am the way I am. If people
in this town don't like me, then...

there's nothing I can do about that.

I feel bad, I need to be punished.

In fact, I wouldn't have any respect for
you if you didn't give me a spanking.

I don't care how much fun
you think it would be

I'm not gonna spank you, Jason.

In that case...

when Ma gets home... maybe I'll just
have to tell her you hit me.

But I just said that I wouldn't.

I reckon Ma'll take my word for it.

If you give me that spanking,
nobody's ever have to know.

Stop it. Get away from Achilles.
Stop it!

I gave his crib a shove.

- Not my fault it didn't tip over.
- Don't you touch him.

Move away from the crib.
Stop it, Jason!

Stop it!
All right, you want a spanking?

I'll give you a spanking.
Come here. Come here.

There... there we go.

That wasn't hard. It's got to be hard
or it isn't punishment.

- All right.
- Harder.

Oh, this is--Come on!

That's enough.
That's enough punishment now.

Maybe I should go stand in the corner
and be ashamed?

I don't care! Stand in the corner,
do whatever you're gonna do.

Hey, there's Pa!

He's early...
I hope nothing's wrong.

Just as Dogville had
done from its open,

frail shelf on the mountainside, quite
unprotected from any capricious storms,

- Grace too had laid herself open.
- Ma Ginger says...

And there she dangled
from her frail stalk

like the apple in the Garden of Eden,

an apple so swollen
that the juices almost ran.

And once again,
the police had come to Dogville.

I said I'd tell you--

to save Martha
the confusion about the ringing.

But I forgot.
They're already down by Canyon Road.

The fellow in the other car is from
the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

- You forgot?
- Yeah.

- Oh...
- It's the busy time for the apples.

The FBI.

They were most interested in hearing
what I'd seen in the past six months.

Anything related to that
wanted poster.

They asked me if I'd seen
any signs in the woods

of anyone camping out there.

God only knows
what that woman is capable of.

You know
she is not capable of anything.

Well, that's what you say.

It sure didn't sound that way
coming from the laws.

That's why I felt
I had to tell them what I knew.

What did you tell them?

I thought I'd seen something
in the woods recently.

An item of clothing, to be exact.

Turned out it was just an old hat
Tom had lost.

- But could have been this.
- Chuck, give me that.

Expensive by the feel of it.

Your initials on it.

I imagine they'd draw the same
conclusions from this as anybody would.

I told the laws it will take me no time
at all to find this piece of clothing.

I reckon we got us 10 minutes,
maybe 15,

before they start knocking on doors.

I wouldn't try to run away.

They're sure to see you.

- Why would I want to run away, Chuck?
- I wouldn't try to holler either.

- Why would I want to do that?
- It wasn't me who wanted you here.

You're far too beautiful
and frail for this place.

You tricked me into feeling
that I meant something to you.

It's your own damned fault
I need your respect, Grace.

- You have my respect, Chuck.
- I want your respect.

Don't...

This is wrong.

If I can force the flowers
to bloom early in spring...

I can force you.

Please...

No! Ow! Stop it!

Please stop, please.

Please don't, please.

Please, please, look at me.

Look at me
and talk to me, please.

We're friends.
You're my friend.

- No, no, Grace, we're not.
- Stop it.

Have you seen Grace?

She's at my place.

- She busy?
- Not anymore. Go right in.

Yet again Grace had made

a miraculous escape from her pursuers
with the aid of the people of Dogville.

Everyone had covered up for her,
including Chuck,

who had to admit
that it was probably Tom's hat

he'd mistakenly considered
so suspicious.

CHAPTER SEVEN in which Grace
finally gets enough of Dogville,

leaves the town,
and again sees the light of day.

That evening, Tom had sensed at once

that something had taken place,
but had to plead with Grace for ages

before she finally broke down

and unburdened herself.

I have to confront him, I mean...

- No, no.
- I have no choice.

- No one will accept what he did to you.
- I don't want you to.

I came here with all these ideas

and these stupid prejudices...

He's not strong, Tom.

He looks strong, but he's not.

I'm gonna start looking for a way
to get you out of here.

The end of the summer had come

and in Elm Street, the second clutch
of Dogville's scatty squirrels

scooted in and out of the legs
of children and grown-ups alike,

searching in vain
for Elm Street's nonexistent elms.

The heat had turned the soil
among the gooseberry bushes to stone.

But Grace did not complain.
She threw herself into her work,

happy that it was something you could
actually grasp between your fingers.

- Hey, Liz, hey, Vera.
- Better watch out, Grace.

Vera's got it in for you today.

What are you talking about?

Maybe you thought
he wouldn't tell me.

Who?

You hit Jason.

- I did.
- How could you do such a thing?

I know it sounds implausible,
but he was asking for it.

It's true, Vera,
he's always asking for it.

I should have done it myself
a long time ago.

Liz!

It's your fault,
the way you've spoiled him.

I know how much
you love him, Vera.

So do I.

It won't happen again.

It really won't--

I know it won't, because I'll never
leave them with you again.

That'd be far too dangerous
for any child of mine.

- I've been tired.
- Well, maybe you should see

about sleeping at night
like most folks do.

Sleeping at night?

Martha saw
a certain Tom Edison Jr.

sneak out of her shed

early this morning.

Grace, you won't hear anything from me
about whipping that idiot kid.

I'm also grateful for you for turning
Tom's wandering eye away from my skirts,

but on the other hand, I expected
more from you than that.

But if that's the kind of thing
you're after, then I'm sure

with your innocent looks you'll do
just fine in a place like Dogville.

It's not what I am after, Liz.

Oh no? We all saw you
take his hand at the picnic.

Maybe that wasn't flirting.

Yes, maybe I was flirting.

Next day, the weather changed.

The fog came rolling down
from the mountains.

And although there were
no sunsets to be seen,

McKay thought it best
that she sat by him anyway.

She had sat by Jack McKay
so many times now.

But Jack had not got better
at judging the distance between them.

On the contrary, where fingers alone
had previously brushed her young flesh,

now it was a hand
that remained in place

throughout the allotted span.

The hours in the orchard were long now,
for the harvest was underway.

And Grace had long since given up
arguing with Chuck's perception

that respect for cultivation,
harvest and fruit

could be directly measured
in provision of carnality.

Though reluctant
to leave Grace alone,

Tom wandered around
quite often now, lost in thought

as he tried to crack the problem
of possible escape.

And as Grace's wages no longer
found their way to her purse,

he had stepped in,

and together
they had triumphantly picked up

the last of the seven figurines
from Ma Ginger's window.

- What's the matter?
- Nothing.

Are the police
on Canyon Road again?

No...

this is just girl talk.

It's funny you should mention
Canyon Road though,

right, Martha?
She was just there this morning.

- Yep.
- On the way home from church.

You see
so much more on foot.

You know, when you're in a car,

you never notice
the apple orchard for example.

You can only see it

from one spot on Canyon Road.

- That's right--
- You know that spot, Martha?

Yes I do. Yep.

And...

did you stop there to enjoy the view
this morning?

It's harvest time, you know,
in the orchard, after all.

The old masters always loved
a good harvest theme,

redolent with fertility,

not to mention sensibility,

or even eroticism.

But how silly of me

to ask you that, Martha,
because you already said you did.

Mmm.

She saw you, Grace.

She saw you...

behind this pile of broken limbs--

with Chuck.

He said it wasn't the first time
you'd made advances towards him.

He never told me before because he
wanted to spare my feelings.

He's a withdrawn

and primitive man.

Vera--

But at heart, he's loyal!

And he's good.

What do you want
with my husband?

I don't want anything...

with your husband

or anybody.

What about Tom
and the hand-holding at the picnic?

That's different, I like Tom.

But you don't like Chuck?

Liz and Martha are behind me

when I tell you I'm gonna have
to teach you a lesson.

I believe in education.

Vera!

I believe smashing them

is less a crime than making them.

Vera, remember

how I taught your children...

- What?
- Remember how happy you were...

- when I taught your children--
- When you what?

about the doctrine of stoicism
and they finally understood it?

All right, for that
I'm gonna be lenient,

I am going to break
two of your figurines first.

And if you can demonstrate

your knowledge
of the doctrine of stoicism

by holding back your tears,

I'll stop.

Have you got that?

In her lifetime,
Grace had had considerable practice

at constraining her emotions
and would never have believed

it would be hard
to control them now.

But as the porcelain
pulverized on the floor,

it was as if it were
human tissue disintegrating.

The figurines were the offspring
of the meeting

between the township and her.

They were the proof
that in spite of everything,

her suffering had created
something of value.

Grace could no longer cope.

For the first time
since her childhood, she wept.

Grace went to see Tom
that very night

and informed him that
she was ready to follow his advice

and leave the township.

And since Tom
had just made up his mind

that a third party would be needed
to ensure the success of an escape,

they agreed that Ben
possessed the greatest potential.

But it was a case where money
was required, Tom concluded.

And estimated
that considering the times and all,

$10 would suffice
for Ben and his truck.

But we don't have $10.

Then we borrow it.

- From whom?
- From Dad.

He has more than that
in the medicine closet.

I'll talk to him in the morning,
arrange a loan.

But you have a word with Ben.

It's the end of the week,
he's bound to be flat broke.

Tell your father
that I will pay him back.

Of course!

Thank you.

You're always... rescuing me.

I can't believe you go on
being there for me.

Good night.

You should get some sleep.

Grace went to see Ben next morning.

Ben?

When Grace
presented the payment

as compensation between friends,
Ben did not object too heartily,

considering the trouble he could receive
from the rest of the townspeople

when they realized
what had happened.

Perhaps they'd all be relieved
that she was out of their lives,

but somehow
Grace wasn't too sure of that.

Ben agreed to drive her,
even though he wasn't out to profit

from other folks' misfortunes,
as he put it.

I don't want to profit
from other folks' misfortunes.

No.

The fact was Ben would have driven
to the gates of hell and back for $10.

And the criminal aspect bugged him less
than Grace would ever have guessed.

He had freighted
all kinds of things in his day.

The plan was for Grace
to hide among the apples.

"Knowing the exact time to harvest

is the greatest art of all,"
Chuck had said.

And the time had come

for the apples and for Grace.

Grace, where you been?
If I'd have displayed

the same indifference
to the timing of my chores,

I'd be in for a whipping.
Now get a move on!

I'm sorry, Olivia,
I had to talk to Ben about something--

June is near to bursting.

She can't use the pot on her own,
as you well know.

It ain't fittin' to toy with her 'cause
she crippled and can't help herself.

The evening before the escape,
Tom tactically thought it best

not to press his desires of the flesh
too hard upon Grace.

And instead, he adopted
a more sensitive approach.

There's a right and a wrong time
to plant seeds.

You can't plant seeds in the winter.

That's true,

but I love you...

- I know.
- ...and you love me.

And we will meet again
in love and in freedom.

Absolutely.

I shouldn't be ashamed
wanting you, should I?

- It's nothing to be ashamed of.
- No.

I know.

No, it's lovely.
It's lovely that we want each other.

- But not this way.
- No.

It's not right.

The next morning, when Grace

wanted to slip down
to Ben's as invisibly as possible,

it seemed to Grace
that the entire township

was out and about
at the same time.

- Grace?
- Yes, Vera?

If you think that by hitting my child,

you can get out of working
for me, think again.

Why don't you just
come by as planned and we'll...

find something where
you won't be able to harm anyone.

Uh, at... 12:00?

Yes.

Why are you taking your copious
belongings around with you?

Afraid you're gonna lose them?

Grace, Ben is hauling apples today,
so we won't be loading glasses.

But that don't mean you're off work.

Dad wants you to repack
the whole last load.

Maybe you can do it better
and we'll have an extra crate.

An old crate like that may not have
much value in your eyes,

but this is Dogville.

We're not wealthy here.

And if your hands get a bit red,

I've got a tip about something
you can rub on them.

Grace.

- Oh, Martha.
- Hi.

We have to wash the flagstones
at the foot of the steps again.

Dirt's gone and blown under the door.
I can't get the door open--

Where have you been?

Harvest is the holiest time of the year.

Doesn't that sound like something
you could have said?

I'll be down in a minute, Chuck.

- I'll bring the crates down.
- Good.

As Grace hastened to
the garage, she grew

more and more pleased with the decision
to keep her departure under wraps.

There was actually quite a bit of work
Dogville didn't need doing,

that its residents would have
to carry out for themselves in future.

Grace, I don't like having to say this,

but I'd like to ask if I could have
the money up front.

See, it's always the way
in the freight industry--

once you deliver a load,
you ain't got much to bargain with,

- if you catch my drift.
- Of course, here's the money.

Not that this is a professional job,
of course.

- Don't get out, till I give the say-so.
- All right, Ben.

Canyon Road snaked down
the valley and away

and Grace went too.

And with every bend,

the township and its noises

faded ever more mercifully
behind her.

- Something wrong?
- Yeah.

There are a hell of a lot
of police up ahead.

I wasn't expecting that.

It's more dangerous than I thought.

We'll have to go back.

- Back?
- Yeah.

- No, we can't do that.
- No, but--

it's just, if this was a--

- a professional transport job--
- No, Ben.

paid proper like,
it would be a lot easier.

But it's been paid for.

Yeah, but in the freight industry

carrying a dangerous load,

it costs more.

A surcharge, they call it.

If this were a professional job,

I could just charge you.

But, Ben,
I don't have any more money.

Oh, that's no good then.

You said once...

you said once

that there aren't
many pleasures in my life.

You know I go to Miss Laura
once a week.

Yes.

And you, you got me to see that

it weren't nothing to be ashamed of.

And see...

I was gonna go there tonight.

And of course, it costs me.

Not as much as--

not as much as a surcharge for--

for dangerous goods,

but still...

it does cost me, you know.

- No, Ben, no, please don't.
- No, no, no, no, no.

It's not personal, Grace,
it's not personal.

- I just...
- No.

I have to take due payment,
that's all.

- I don't have a choice.
- No, Ben.

I can't buck the freight industry,
can I?

- No.
- Shh, shh, shh, shh.

We're parked in the square
in Georgetown.

Right outside the church.

You'd better keep your voice down.

No, Ben.

This ain't something
I'm proud of, Grace.

Don't go thinking that.

Grace fell asleep
on the long highway,

thanks to her healthy ability

to push any unpleasantness
around her far away.

A generous God had blessed her
with the rare talent

of being able to look ahead

and only ahead.

And later
when the truck slowed down

about to reach its destination

and she slowly returned
to consciousness,

she had no way of knowing
how long she had slept.

All she knew was that she would be happy
to see the light of day again.

And then she heard the dog.

All your fondness for apples
seems less and less believable, see?

You bruised them.

We had a meeting last night
at the mission house.

They said you might be
gonna try to run away.

So when I discovered you'd--

hidden yourself away on my truck...

I didn't have no choice
but to bring you back to Dogville.

In the freight industry
we can't take sides.

It didn't help Grace

that the first theft
ever registered in Dogville

had taken place
the previous evening

when most people were assembled
for the town meeting.

Old Tom Edison Sr.
had had a considerable sum of money

stolen from his medicine closet,
and suspicion soon fell on Grace,

who had apparently been
planning an escape

that would surely require funding.

Grace chose to remain silent

in the face of these new charges.

And then Bill, who had lately
improved his engineering skills

to an astonishing degree,
had by way of his first design

implemented a kind
of escape prevention mechanism.

Beautiful, it might not have been,

but effective, he dared say it was.

Grace,

we don't like having to do this.

We don't have much of a choice,

if we're to protect our community.

Could you,
would you mind moving?

Try moving?

It works.

We had to make this heavy enough

so that it could only move...

where the ground is level,

and the ground is level in town.

May I go now?

I have to figure out
how I'm gonna get into my house.

Or is that part of the punishment,
having to sleep outdoors?

Oh, no, no, no, no, Grace.

Don't think of this as punishment,

not at all.

See, Bill, he made
the chain long enough

so that you can sleep in your bed.

Grace, 6:00.

Yes, Mrs. Henson.

CHAPTER EIGHT in which there is
a meeting where the truth is told

and Tom leaves.

I'm...

I couldn't run the risk
of Dad turning me down.

They think it was me
that took the money.

'Cause I told them so.

You did what?

First, they suspected me, but then
I convinced them that it was you

since you were the one
using the medicine closet.

Why?

It's good I'm here
to do the thinking for you.

If we are to have the slightest chance
of getting you out of here...

they can never know
how close we really are.

They can't know
I'm trying to help you.

If they knew it was me
that took the money,

I wouldn't be here
talking to you now.

Please, don't disappear, Tom.

I need you.

I'll break this one
with some thinking.

It was not Grace's pride

that kept her going
during the days when fall came

and the trees
were losing their leaves,

but more of the trancelike state
that descends

on animals
whose lives are threatened,

a state in which the body
reacts mechanically,

in a low, tough gear,
without too much painful reflection,

like a patient passively
letting his disease hold sway.

And now that Vera
had received proof

that it was in fact Chuck

who'd forced his attentions on Grace,
she was meaner than ever.

Had Grace had friends in Dogville,

they too fell like the leaves.

Most townspeople of the male sex

now visited Grace at night

to fulfill their sexual needs.

It had occurred to the children
to give the bell an extra ring

every time such an act
had been consummated...

much to Martha's confusion.

But since the chain
had been attached,

things had become easier
for everyone.

The harassments in bed did not have
to be kept so secret anymore,

because they couldn't really
be compared to a sexual act.

They were embarrassing,
in the way it is

when a hillbilly has his way
with a cow,

but no more than that.

Tom saw everything.
It pained him.

And the sexual visits
were a particularly severe blow.

Good night.

But he supported her
as best he could,

the way a spider supports

when it has been tangled
in its own web by the wind.

Tom.

Everything I tried to do
went wrong.

I can't come up with the answer
I was looking for.

You'll come up with it, you'll see.

You're very clever.

I provoked them.

I wouldn't worry about it.

We provoked them, now it's time
for us to provoke ourselves.

- What do you mean?
- I mean...

by showing them some trust.
It all started with a meeting,

so it would be logical
to end it with one too.

You'll talk, they'll listen.
They can't refuse to listen.

- What will I say?
- Everything, you'll say everything.

- Everything?
- Yeah, the truth, the truth,

just the truth
about each and every one of them.

I don't think
they're gonna want to hear that.

No, I know, I know.
It's like a child...

who doesn't want
to take his medicine.

They'll be furious at first,
but in the end, they'll see that it's--

it's for their own good.

Just don't be hateful.

Don't be reproving.

If anybody can do it,
Grace, you can.

They'll all realize that this web
of misunderstanding and injustice

has only one true victim
and that's you.

And from there it's only
one small step to forgiveness.

You've done some hard thinking,
Tom Edison.

I'm sure it's an excellent plan.

I'm sure.

If forgiveness was close at
hand in the mission house,

they were all hiding it well.

It hadn't been easy for Tom
to get them there.

Appealing to consciences

stowed farther and farther away
by their owners every day,

as if they were as fragile
as Henson's glasses after polishing,

had proved quite a task.

But if one was going, the others
might as well come along too--

so nobody could talk
behind anybody's back.

Tom had set the scene
for Grace's speech.

Now, she'd have to sink or swim

and sincerity be brought to bear.

While Grace addressed

the silent congregation
in the mission house on Elm Street,

the first of the early autumn
snowstorms embraced the town.

The snowflakes dusted down
over the old buildings

as if this were just any old town.

And they played
in the branches and twigs,

from which the apples had hung.

But luckily the harvest was home

and, via the freight industry,
had found a market

despite the ever-disappointing prices.

Grace had presented
her story with clarity.

She had not embellished
or understated.

And just as she finished, the snowflakes
all at once stopped tumbling down,

leaving Dogville
clad in the daintiest,

whitest blanket of snow
imaginable.

Hmph.

I don't think it went very well.

It's fine. You did good.

The snow had come early,
perhaps too early--

a misplaced augury
of conciliation?

Tom looked around, worried.

Vera's teeth were clenched.
She was the first to speak.

Copious lies, just lies.

Yes, Tom, that didn't
accord with the perception

that I have of this town
and its residents.

I'm a doctor, damn it. I'm capable
of determining if I'm sick or not.

What do you have to say
for yourself, Tom?

Maybe it's time you picked sides.

Are you for us or against us?

Liz is right, we've been
far too indulgent with Tom.

Tom, I got to tell you,
even I have trouble defending that girl.

With your help, which I prefer
to think was accidental, Tom,

she's been managed
to spread bitterness

and trouble throughout
this whole town. She has to go!

How do we get rid of her, Tom?

- How do we do it, Tom?
- I agree, Tom.

You brought her in here, you have
to figure out how to get her out.

Without her lies
and accusations spreading.

I asked you here to listen.

You only came
to defend yourselves.

I'm sorry. It's quite a blow to me,

to see all of my friends
act this way...

so uncivilized.

Your plan didn't work out
very well, did it?

- You'll think of another one.
- No.

No more plans, I promise.

They asked me to choose
between you and them.

That's not difficult
on a day like today, I love you.

You may be stronger,
it's true, with the ideals,

the ideals we share.

I'm exhausted.

Lie down.

I've chosen, Grace,

I've chosen you.

And now it's the time,

the time we've been waiting for.

We've freed ourselves of Dogville.

You're right.

You're right, Tom, it would be
so easy to make love right now.

They may kill us any minute,

it would be the perfect
romantic ending--

You know I feel it too.

It would be so beautiful,
but from...

from the point of view of our love,
so completely wrong.

We were to meet in freedom.

You're cold now, Grace.

I just rejected everybody
I've ever known in your favor.

Wouldn't it be worth compromising
just one of your ideals

just a little to ease my pain?

Everybody in this town
has had your body but me.

We're the ones
supposed to be in love.

My darling Tom.

You can have me if you want me.

Just do what the others do.

Threaten me.

Tell me that you'll turn me in
to the law, to the gangsters,

and I promise you,

you can take
whatever it is you want from me.

I trust you.

But maybe you don't trust yourself.

Perhaps you've been tempted.

You've been tempted
to join the others and force me?

Perhaps that's why you're so upset.

All I've ever tried to do is help you.

I'm just asking if you're afraid
you could be so human.

No, I'm not afraid of that,
not in the least.

Good.

Let tomorrow bring
what it's gonna bring.

It's not a crime

to doubt yourself, Tom.

But it's wonderful that you don't.

I can't find the rest.

I think I should go out
for a couple of minutes.

Take a walk
or something to get it--

get it all out of my system.

Trudge the streets,

listen to the wind as it passes

through the woods
up through the valley

and all that.

You go to sleep though.

You go to sleep

and I'll be back

very soon.

Of course,
it was all a load of nonsense.

If anybody was capable of keeping
track of ideals and reality, he was.

After all, it was his job.

Moral issues were his home ground.

To think that he might
doubt his own purity

was really to think
very little of him.

Tom was angry.

And in the midst of it all,
he discovered why.

It was not because
he'd been wrongly accused,

but because the charges
were true.

His anger consisted
of a most unpleasant feeling

of being found out.

It was all quite a blow
to the young philosopher.

And realistically enough,

he thought that if the doubt
was already present,

it could grow perhaps so great

that one day it would prove detrimental
to his entire moral mission.

Tom stopped.

He almost began to shake
when the threat

to his career as a writer
dawned upon him.

It didn't take him long
to agree with himself

that the risk was
too great to run.

The danger
Grace was to the town,

she was also to him.

Tom did not like it

and he was man enough
to take action to prevent it.

Fortunately, Tom was as conscientious
as regards his future profession

as he was practical.

He allowed sincerity and ideals
plenty of room in his life

without getting sentimental
about it, as he would put it.

Throwing away a document
that might be of significance to Tom,

and with him
future generations of readers,

as a basis of a novel
or indeed a trilogy

was not an act
he was so stupid to commit.

Although he had to admit
that in a moment of weakness

he might have said he would.

Before returning
to the meeting that night,

Tom opened the little drawer he had
opened the night of Grace's arrival

and found it still there--

the card from the gangster
in the car.

The next day, the sun was
shining in the brisk autumn sky

and the snow was
long since gone.

For the first time for ages

the pile driver could be heard
in the marshlands

as it hammered in the piles

of what might
or might not be a penitentiary.

Grace opened her eyes,

after an almost unconscious sleep
and was confused...

Judging by the light coming
through the cracks in the walls

it had to be nearly midday,
"the gray hour"

as Jack McKay, for some reason,
called noon in Dogville...

being a man of many ideas
and proclivities,

quite a few of which Grace would have
preferred to remain ignorant of.

But why had nobody roused her?

Nobody had hammered
furiously at her door,

not a child had thrown
mud into her bed

or broken
her remaining windowpanes.

Now she remembered.

She recalled
the meeting the previous day

and puzzled still more.

Why had she not been confronted
with the outcome of that meeting

or even killed?

It was quite unlike Dogville

to restrain its indignation
on any point.

Perhaps things had
turned out well after all.

- Good morning, Mrs. Henson,
- Oh, morning.

I would have come earlier, but I--

I overslept.

Oh, never mind, Liz put
her back into it this morning.

We thought some time off
would be good for you.

That was quite a speech
you made yesterday.

Gave us all something
to think about.

- Hello, Liz.
- Hi, Grace.

Hi.

I overslept.

Morning, Miss Grace.

- Good morning.
- How you this morning?

- I overslept.
- Oh, that's all right.

It's Grace.

Hello, Grace.

Two seconds.

Good news.

I went back
to the meeting last night.

I wasn't gonna let them
get off so easy, but...

I'll be damned if the mood
hadn't changed.

I wouldn't say we won exactly,
not exactly,

but I think something very good
could come out of this--

- Why didn't you come back and tell me?
- No, I did, I did, but you were asleep.

And you looked like you needed it.

That made me suggest that maybe
you should have some time off.

And you know,

not one single person objected.

- That sounds wonderful.
- I know it does, doesn't it?

The people in this town,
they surprise me again and again.

I might even have to revise
my theories a little bit.

You know how much I hate
doing that kind of thing.

You know, Grace, last night
when I came back

and I saw you

lying there asleep so sweetly,

I was suddenly inspired.

I wrote the first chapter of a story--

a story about a small town.

Guess where I got the inspiration?

But I haven't come up with a name
for the town yet.

Why not just call it Dogville?

It wouldn't work, wouldn't work,
it's got to be universal.

A lot of writers
make that mistake, you see.

- Hey, you want me to read it to you?
- Uh...

If there's any love in it,
it comes from you.

Would you be offended
if I said no?

- No.
- If I really have the day to myself...

No, no.

Two people will
only hurt each other

if they doubt the love
they have in one another.

You can read it some other time.

You sit down someplace,

gaze out at the mountains.

It's what
the girl in my novel does.

I'll see you later.

I'll see you. Good news.

Sensibly,
Grace chose to hope for the best,

rather than fear the worst,

and planned to spend the day

calmly washing her clothes
and herself--

which for some reason or another
she was sure none of the characters

from Tom's fictitious township
would dream of doing.

And then it was
as if Dogville just waited.

Even the wind dropped,

leaving the town
in an unfamiliar calm,

as if somebody had put
a large cheese-dish cover over it

and created the kind of quietness

that descends
while you're awaiting visitors.

After two days off
Grace had been put back to work,

but the quietness remained.

Indeed, it intensified.

Until on the fifth day...

it swelled into a strange mood

that all of a sudden brought all
the citizens to the street to listen.

They asked each other
if the phone was really still down,

or if they'd heard about Ben
having had to turn his truck around

on his way to Georgetown
that very morning

on account of a large tree
blocking the road.

They were not worried.

Worried was not the right word.

And then Tom spotted the cars.

- How many cars?
- Eight, eight.

Tom has binoculars
but you can see them with the naked eye.

- There must be at least eight.
- I thought the road was blocked.

They must have come through
before the tree came down.

June's bed! The sheets need changing.
I'll be there in a minute.

- Hello, June.
- Shh.

Grace had just started on the bed
which June had soiled yet again,

when an irritating feeling of wasting
her time forced itself upon her.

And it was without thinking
she then said the words...

Nobody gonna sleep here.

She didn't say them out loud

but even so,
was startled by the utterance

that had urged itself upon her.

Where had these
ominous words come from?

Darkness was falling as Grace made
her way home from work that evening.

The people on the square
overlooking the valley

had finally given up hope of seeing
anything else now the light had faded.

They trudged up Elm Street
in disappointment.

- Tom.
- Hi, Grace.

There were some cars, but--

too dark, we can't see anymore.

We haven't seen
much of each other.

Yeah, I know. I've been busy
with my book, you know.

Can I ask you something?

Yeah, anything.

You couldn't bring yourself
to throw it away, could you?

The number he gave you that night,
you couldn't throw it away.

I told you how dangerous
that man was.

That was stupid.

Stupid or not, Tom was soon

a passionate spokesman for
locking Grace in her shed that night.

If the vehicles were indeed
a sign that the call

Tom had placed five days earlier
on behalf of the community

to the number indicated
on the card from his bureau drawer

had at last led to action

and Grace was now
to be eliminated from their lives,

it would surely look good
if the town had also locked her up.

Grace was lying on the bed
when Jason was sent up with the key.

Grace heard it turn in the lock,

but she was deeply absorbed
by arguments and thoughts

on matters she had otherwise avoided
for the best part of a year now.

CHAPTER NINE in which Dogville receives
the long-awaited visit and the film ends.

From the moment when they'd finally
heard the sound of vehicles

starting one after the other from
the direction of the edge of the woods,

things had moved rapidly.

Tom had arranged a delegation
to provide a proper reception.

Dogville might be off the beaten track,
but it was hospitable, nonetheless.

Welcome, gentlemen, welcome.

The town places itself
at your disposal.

I should have a large key to give you,
but I only have this small one.

- Where is she?
- Secured by this very key.

Where is she?

Okay-- if you're wondering
about that sound,

they're driving piles
for the new penitentiary.

Tell me, has the crime rate
really gone up in this country

as we're led to believe?

Maybe people just regard
things as criminal because, uh,

because they envy their success.

What's your opinion
on the subject?

Maybe you have none.
I'll get the door.

Sorry.

Voila, as the French might say.

What the hell is this?

Who did that?

Billy, put your hand up!
Put your hand up!

Who's Billy? Come on,
just get your tools.

- It's okay.
- It's gonna be all right.

We felt safer
when she had the chain on.

You're probably more adept
at handling her kind.

None of us feel able

to accept money
for just helping people.

I mean, unless it would make you feel
better to divest yourself--

- Shut the hell up!
- Absolutely.

Grace was no expert
in exclusive automobiles,

yet she recognized
with no difficulty

the sound of the vehicle
that was rounding the corner

from Canyon Road
at that very moment.

Alas, in Grace's memory

the legendary purr
of the Cadillac series 355 C

was inextricably linked with another
rather less sophisticated sound...

that of gunfire
directed against her person.

Don't!

You need to justify your actions
before you shoot us?

That's new.

That could be interpreted
as weakness, Daddy.

I'm disappointed in you.

- I didn't come to shoot anybody.
- You shot at me before.

Yes.

And so I regret that...

you ran away.

But shooting at you
certainly didn't help matters.

Of course not,
you're far, far too stubborn.

If you don't want to kill me
then why did you come?

Our last conversation,
the one in which you told me what it was

you didn't like about me,
never really concluded, as you ran away.

I should be allowed to tell you
what I don't like about you.

That, I believe, would be a rule
of polite conversation, no?

That's why you showed up?

And you call me stubborn?

You're sure you're not here to force me
to go back and become like you?

If I thought there was
a chance of forcing you...

but of course,
that would never happen.

You're more-- more than welcome

to return home,
become my daughter again anytime,

and I would even begin

to share my power and responsibility
with you if you did.

- Not that you care--
- So what is it?

What is it, the thing, the thing
that you don't like about me?

It was a word you used
that provoked me.

You called me arrogant.

To plunder, as it were, a God-given
right. I'd call that arrogant, Daddy.

But that is exactly
what I don't like about you.

- It's you that is arrogant.
- That's what you came here to say?

I'm not the one passing judgment, Daddy,
you are.

No, you do not pass judgment

because you sympathize with them.
A deprived childhood,

and a homicide really isn't
necessarily a homicide, right?

The only thing you can blame
is circumstances--

rapists and murderers

may be the victims,
according to you,

but I, I call them dogs.

And if they're lapping up
their own vomit,

the only way to stop them
is with the lash.

But dogs only obey
their own nature,

so why shouldn't
we forgive them?

Dogs can be taught
many useful things,

but not if we forgive them
every time they obey their own nature.

So I'm arrogant?

I'm arrogant
because I forgive people.

My God,

can't you see how condescending
you are when you say that?

I mean you have--
you have this preconceived notion

that nobody, listen--that nobody
can possibly attain

the same high ethical standards as you,
so you exonerate them.

I cannot--

I cannot think of anything
more arrogant than that.

You, my child, my dear child,

you forgive others with excuses

that you would never in the world
permit for yourself.

Why shouldn't I be merciful? Why?

No, no, no, you should,
you should be merciful

when there's time to be merciful.

But, you must maintain
your own standards.

You owe them that,
you owe them that.

The penalty you deserve
for your transgression,

they deserve
for their transgressions.

- They're human beings, Dad.
- No, no, no, of course--

but does every human being need to be
accountable for their actions?

Of course they do, but you
don't even give them that chance.

And that is extremely arrogant.

I love you, I love you,
I love you to death,

but you are the most arrogant
person I have ever met.

And you call me arrogant.

I...

I have no more to say.

You're arrogant, I'm arrogant,
you've said it, now you can leave.

And without my daughter
I suppose.

Hmm?

- I said without my daughter.
- Mm, yes.

- Well?
- Yes!

You decide, you decide.

Grace, they--

they say you're having
some trouble here.

No.

No more trouble than back home.

I'm gonna give you a little time
to think about this,

- perhaps you'll change your mind.
- I won't.

Listen, my love,

power is not so bad.

I am sure that you can

find a way to make use of it
in your own fashion.

Take a walk and think about it.

The people who live here...

are doing their best

under very hard circumstances.

If you say so, Grace.

But is their best...

really good enough?

I do love you.

Grace had already
thought for a long time.

She had known that if she were not shot
when the gangsters arrived,

she would be faced with her father's
suggestion that she return

to be become a conspirator with him
and his gang of thugs and felons.

And she did not need any walk
to reconsider her response to that...

even though the difference
between the people she knew back home

and the people she'd met in Dogville

had proven somewhat slighter
than she'd expected.

Grace looked at the gooseberry bushes,
so fragile in the smooth darkness.

It was good to know that
if you did not treat them ill,

they would be there come spring
as always,

and come summer
they'd again be bursting

with the quite incomprehensible
quantity of berries

that were so good in pies,

especially with cinnamon.

Grace looked around
at the frightened faces

behind the windowpanes
that were following her every step

and felt ashamed
of being part of inflicting that fear.

How could she ever hate them

for what was at bottom
merely their weakness?

She would probably have done
things like those that have befallen her

if she had lived
in one of these houses.

To measure them by her own yardstick,
as her father put it,

would she not, in all honesty,

have done the same as Chuck?

And Vera and Ben?
And Mrs. Henson?

And Tom?
And all these people in their houses?

Grace paused.

And while she did,

the clouds scattered
and let the moonlight through.

And Dogville underwent another
of those little changes of light.

It was as if the light previously
so merciful and faint,

finally refused to cover up
for the town any longer.

Suddenly you could
no longer imagine a berry

that would appear one day
on a gooseberry bush,

but only see the thorn
that was there right now.

The light now penetrated every
unevenness and flaw in the buildings,

and in the people.

And all of a sudden, she knew
the answer to her question all too well.

If she had acted like them

she could not have defended
a single one of her actions

and could not have condemned
them harshly enough.

It was as if her sorrow and pain
finally assumed their rightful place.

No, what they had done
was not good enough.

And if one had the power to put it
to rights, it was one's duty to do so,

for the sake of other towns,

for the sake of humanity

and not least,
for the sake of the human being

that was Grace herself.

If I went back and...

became your daughter again,

when would I be given
the power you're talking about?

Now.

At once?

Why not?

So that would mean
that I would also take on

the immediate responsibility,
at once.

And I'd be a part
of the problem solving...

like the problem

of Dogville.

We could start
by shooting the dog

and nailing it to a wall over there,

beneath that lamp for example.

It might help,
it sometimes does, no?

It would only make the town
more frightened,

it would hardly make it
a better place.

And it could happen again.

Somebody...

somebody happening by,
revealing...

their frailty.

That's what I want to use
the power for, if you don't mind.

I want to make this world
a little better.

Yeah?

The damn kid won't shut up.
Says he wants to talk to you, miss.

Can we just shoot him now?

No, let me talk to him.

What? What is it?

A man can't really be blamed

for being scared, can he?

- No...
- No.

I'm scared, Grace.

I used you and I am sorry.

I am stupid. I am.

I'm maybe
even arrogant sometimes.

You are, Tom.

Although using people
is not very charming,

I think you have to agree
that this specific illustration

has surpassed all expectations.

It says so much about being human.

It's been painful, but I think
you'll also have to agree

- it's been edifying, wouldn't you say?
- Not now, Tom.

Not now.

If there's any town this world
would be better without, this is it.

- Yes?
- Shoot them, burn down the town.

Oh...

What? Something else, honey?

There's a family with kids.

Do the kids first
and make the mother watch.

Tell her you'll stop
if she can hold back her tears.

I owe her that.

I'm afraid she cries
a little too easily.

We'd better get you out of here.

I'm afraid you've learned
far too much already.

Come on, come on.

Feeling cold, sweetie?
Would you like a wrap?

I'm fine.

You want the curtains opened?
You don't need them anymore.

You think?

I think we should open them.

I think it's appropriate.

No!

- No! No!
- No, no.

No, No.

No!

- No, Dad, no.
- No.

Dad!

Chuck!

Mom!

Mom, help, help!

Mom!

Stay, Achilles.

Dear God.

No! Oh God!

Bingo, Grace.

Bingo.

I have to tell you, your illustration,
it beat the hell out of mine.

It's frightening, yes,

but so clear.

Do you think I can
allow myself to use it

as an inspiration in my writing?

Goodbye, Tom.

Some things
you have to do yourself.

Really?

That one you're gonna have
to explain to me on the way home.

Suddenly there was a noise--

not so persuasive and powerful as it
had been on one rainy night in spring,

but loud enough to work its way
through the final sighs of the timber

that was rapidly burning out.

It came again, everyone heard it.

- Grace was the first to recognize it.
- That's Moses.

"That's Moses," she said
and jumped out of the car.

She quickly covered the distance
to the dog pen through what,

now the buildings were gone,
could scarcely be called a street,

and certainly not Elm Street,
as there wasn't a tree left

on Dogville's little mountain ledge,
let alone an elm.

It was Moses.

His survival was astonishing,
a miracle.

No, no.

No, just let him be.

They will have spotted the flames
in Georgetown by now.

Someone will come and find him.

He's just angry
because I once took his bone.

Whether Grace left Dogville,

or on the contrary
Dogville had left her--

and the world in general--

is a question
of a more artful nature

that few would
benefit from by asking,

and even fewer
by providing an answer.

And nor indeed
will it be answered here.

♪ They pulled in just
behind the bridge ♪

♪ He lays her down, he frowns ♪

♪ "Gee, my life's a funny thing ♪

♪ Am I still too young?" ♪

♪ He kissed her then and there ♪

♪ She took his ring,
took his babies ♪

♪ It took him minutes,
took her nowhere ♪

♪ Heaven knows
she'd have taken anything ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ She wants a young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ She wants the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ But she wants
the young American ♪

♪ Scanning life
through the picture window ♪

♪ She finds a slinky vagabond ♪

♪ He coughs as he passes
her Ford Mustang ♪

♪ But heaven forbid,
she'll take anything ♪

♪ But the freak and his type
offer nothing ♪

♪ Misses a step
and cuts his hand ♪

♪ But showing nothing,
he swoops like a song ♪

♪ She cries "Where have all
Papa's heroes gone?" ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ She wants the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ She wants the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ Well, she wants the young American ♪

♪ All the way from Washington ♪

♪ Her breadwinner begs off
the bathroom floor ♪

♪ We live for just these 20 years ♪

♪ Do we have to die for the 50 more? ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ He wants the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ He wants the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ Well, he wants the young American ♪

♪ Do you remember ♪

- ♪ Your President Nixon? ♪
- ♪ Ooh, ooh ♪

♪ Do you remember ♪

♪ The bills you have to pay? ♪

♪ Or even yesterday? ♪

♪ Have you been an unAmerican? ♪

♪ Just you and your idol
singing falsetto ♪

♪ About leather, leather, everywhere ♪

♪ And not a myth left from the ghetto ♪

♪ Well, well, well,
would you carry a razor ♪

♪ In case, just in case of depression? ♪

♪ Sit on your hands
on the bus of survivors ♪

♪ Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas ♪

♪ Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love? ♪

♪ Well, it ain't that Barbie doll ♪

♪ Her heart's been broken
just like you have ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ All night for the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ You want the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ You want the young American ♪

♪ You ain't a pimp
and you ain't a hustler ♪

♪ A pimp's got a Caddy
and lady's got a Chrysler ♪

♪ Black's got respect
and white's got his Soul Train ♪

♪ Mama's got cramps
and look at your hands ache ♪

♪ I heard the news today, oh boy ♪

♪ I got a suite and you got defeat ♪

♪ Ain't there a man
who can say no more? ♪

♪ And ain't there a woman
I can sock on the jaw? ♪

♪ And ain't there a child
I can hold without judging? ♪

♪ And ain't there a pen
that will write before they die? ♪

♪ Ain't you proud
that you still got faces? ♪

♪ Ain't there one damn song
that can make me ♪

♪ Break down and cry? ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ I want the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ I want the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ I want the young American,
young American ♪

- ♪ Young American, young American ♪
- ♪ I want what you want ♪

- ♪ I want the young American ♪
- ♪ I want what you want ♪

- ♪ You want I, I want you ♪
- ♪ All night ♪

♪ You want I, I want you want ♪

- ♪ I want you, you want I ♪
- ♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ I want the Young American,
all night ♪

♪ And all I want is the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ I want the young American. ♪