All language subtitles for The.Prime.of.Miss.Jean.Brodie.1969.1080p.BluRay.x264.YIFY.eng

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Morning, girls.

Good morning.

There's Miss Brodie.

Miss Brodie!

Oh, girls, how lovely
to see you. Thank you.

- I've been looking for you all over the place.
- Have you had a nice holiday?

Oh, you wait till
I tell you about Italy.

- Good morning, Miss Brodie.
- Morning, Miss Brodie.

Oh, good morning,
Mr. Lowther, Mr. Lloyd.

- Will you put that upstairs?
- Yes, Miss Brodie.

- Put that on the desk.
- Yes, Miss Brodie.

Come on.

Good morning, Miss Mackay.

You take charge of these two new girls.
Please see that they know what they have to do.

- Yes, Miss Mackay.
- Thank you so much.

- Sheila, there's no need to run.
- No, Miss Mackay.

♪ Lord, behold us with Thy blessing

♪ Once again assembled here

♪ Onward be
our footsteps pressing

♪ In Thy love
and faith and fear

♪ Still protect us,
Still protect us

♪ By Thy presence
ever near

♪ For Thy mercy
we adore Thee

♪ For this rest
upon our way

♪ Lord, again we bow
before Thee

♪ Speed our labors
day by day

♪ Mind and spirit
Mind and spirit

♪ With Thy choicest
gifts array

♪ Keep the spell
of home affection

♪ Still alive
in every heart

♪ May its power
with mild direction

♪ Draw our love
from self apart

♪ Till Thy children
Till Thy children

♪ Feel that Thou
their Father art

♪ Break temptation's
fatal power

♪ Shielding all
with guardian care

♪ Safe in every
careless hour

♪ Safe from sloth
and sensual snare

♪ Thou, our savior
Thou, our savior

♪ Still our failing
strength repair

Here comes Miss Brodie.

- Good morning, girls.
- Good morning, Miss Brodie.

You may sit down.

Who opened the window?

Whoever opened the window
has opened it too wide.

Six inches is
perfectly adequate.

More is vulgar.
Forsooth, one should have...

an innate sense of these things,
of what is suitable.

Morag, will you please?

Thank you.

I see we have
two new girls this term.

Will the two new girls
please stand up?

- You are?
- Emily Carstairs, Miss Brodie.

Emily Carstairs.

There.
You are inscribed.

Would you like to tell us
something about yourself, Emily?

I'm a Girl Guide, Miss Brodie.
I have six merit badges.

One for knot tying.
One for flag folding.

- Indeed.
- One...

For those who like that sort of thing,
that is the sort of thing they like.

You may sit down, Emily.

And this is Mary McGregor.

Well, what about you, Mary?
You don't look to me like a girl who ties knots.

N-N-No, Miss Brodie, but my b-b-brother does.

That is as it should be.

But what about you?
What are your interests?

I haven't g-got any.

I d-d-don't think.

That is what I am for,
Mary McGregor...

to provide you with interests.

You may sit down now, Mary.

Little girls, I am in the business
of putting old heads on young shoulders.

All my pupils are
the crème de la crème.

Give me a girl
at an impressionable age...

and she is mine for life.

You girls are my vocation.

If I were to receive
a proposal of marriage tomorrow...

from the Lord Lyon, king of arms,
I would decline it.

I am dedicated
to you in my prime.

And my summer in Italy
has convinced me...

that I am truly in my prime.

Emily, Mary McGregor,
you are new to this institution.

It is possible you will hear my teaching
methods decried in certain quarters...

as being unsuitable for a conservative
school like Marcia Blaine.

That is to say, a school dedicated
to the status quo.

Can anyone define "status quo"?

Sandy?

Does it mean staying the same,
Miss Brodie?

Precisely.

Staying the same to the point
of petrification.

P-E-T-R-I-F...

I-C-A-T-I-O-N.

Petrification.

I do not intend to devote
my prime to petrification.

Prop up your books
in case of intruders.

If there are intruders,
we are doing our history.

But we will not do our history.

Can anyone tell me who is
the greatest Italian painter?

Leonardo da Vinci, Miss Brodie.

That is incorrect, Jenny.

The answer is Giotto.
He is my favorite.

Observe, little girls,
Stanley Baldwin...

who got in as prime minister
and got out again ere long.

Our headmistress, Miss Mackay...

retains him on the walls because
she believes in the slogan "safety first".

Safety does not come first.

Goodness, Truth
and Beauty come first.

One's prime brings one's insight
into these things.

One's prime is the moment
one is born for.

You little girls must be
on the alert to recognize your prime...

at whatever time it may occur...

and live it to the full.

"Season of mist
and mellow fruitfulness".

I want to tell you
of a moment in my life...

when I was very young...

younger even
than the man himself.

His name was Hugh.

I fell deeply in love
with Hugh...

in the last year of the war...

but he fell on Flanders field.

Helen McPhee, are you thinking
of doing a day's washing?

- No, Miss Brodie.
- You have your sleeves rolled up.

Roll them down at once.
I won't have to do with girls...

who roll up the sleeves
of their blouses.

We are civilized beings.

He fell on Flanders field.

He fell the week before
armistice was declared.

He fell like an autumn leaf.

Remind me to show you a map of Flanders
and the spot where my lover...

was laid to sleep forever,
before you were born.

"Come autumn so pensive
in yellow and gray...

and soothe me with tidings
of nature's decay".

Robert Burns.

Hugh fell like an autumn leaf.

After the armistice,
people were dancing and singing for joy...

in the streets, but...

Hugh was one of the flowers
of the forest...

lying in his grave.

What seems to be
ailing the spirits of...

Monica Maclaren, isn't it?

Monica cries easily.

Well, Monica, perhaps you can
tell me why you are crying.

She's moved by a story
I have been telling...

of the Battle of Flodden.

Crying over a history lesson?

It is a moving story.

The night before Flodden,
at Mercat Cross beside St. Giles...

a ghostly herald was heard
reading the names...

of all the noble families of Scotland
beginning with the king.

After the battle,
there was not one family...

who had not suffered
grievous loss...

as you well know, Miss Mackay.

To be sure.

Well, girls, I know you're all
going to work hard...

at every subject this year.

A good beginning
makes a good ending.

I hope you all
had splendid holidays...

and I look forward to reading
your splendid essays...

on how you spent them.

You shouldn't be crying
over a history lesson at your age.

My word.

Thank you, Janet.

Good morning, Miss Mackay.

You may sit down, girls.

You did well, Monica,
not to answer the question put to you.

It is well when in difficulties
to say never a word...

neither black nor white.

But you did, Miss Brodie.

You were in difficulty,
and you made up about Flodden.

Sandy, please try to do as I say
and not as I do.

Remember, you are
a child, Sandy...

and far from your prime.

- I hear I must congratulate you on the birth of another child.
- Yes, another daughter.

Have you never heard
of Marie Stopes...

architect for constructive birth control
and racial progress?

Ah, yes. An estimable woman. But my church
enjoins me to go forth and be fruitful.

I'm aware of your unfortunate affiliation
with the Church of Rome.

I doubt, however,
whether that body gives...

the same interpretation
to go forth that you do.

My church understands human imperfection
and forgives it. Why can't you?

I am not interested in human imperfection.
I am interested in Beauty, in Art, in Truth.

In Art and Beauty, maybe.
In truth, no.

This is outrageous!

The truth is that you bounced
into bed with an artist...

...but you were horrified,
when you woke up with a man!

- R-Release me instantly!
- I finished your portrait, Jean.

- Come back to the studio. Come Sunday.
- I can't. I can't.

- Why not?
- I have another engagement!

- Well, break it!
- I can't possibly!

- I'm-I'm... I'm going to Cramond.
- What for?

Mr. Lowther has invited me
to his estate at Cramond.

- Lowther?
- He has a small boat.

I'm invited to go sailing...

on Sunday.

What do you want me to do...
ravish you on the floor...

for the edification
of your girls?

- Here.
- Is this liver paste, Miss Brodie?

It is pâté de foie gras.

Pâté de foie gras.

Oh, it must be marvelous
to be French.

The French have
a genius for food...

but I doubt French women
will ever get the vote.

I was quite emphatic about it.

"I'll not pull my punches, Miss Mackay",
I said.

"Miss Brodie's girls are different".

- Oh, you said that?
- Oh, I said it, all right...

and I meant it.

Thank you, Miss Lockhart.

The Brodie set, indeed.

Wee girls refusing
to wash their faces.

Oh, Miss Brodie,
they informed me...

hasn't washed her face
in 20 years.

She looks clean enough
from here.

Miss Brodie prescribes
cold cream.

She always looks so extreme.

This is my new girl,
Mr. Lowther, Mary McGregor.

Mr. Lowther. There's a great deal
Mr. Lowther can teach you...

about the modulation
of your tones.

Miss Brodie, I thought... that is,
I hoped there might be time...

for a wee cup of tea in the common room
before the afternoon classes.

How nice of you
to ask me, Mr. Lowther.

Now, girls, I leave
Mary McGregor in your charge.

Thank you.

Well, Mary McGregor,
how much pocket money do you get?

O-O-One and six a week.

One and six?
Your father gives you one and six?

M-M-Mr. Ealing
gives it to me.

I don't have
a f-f-father or mother.

- Who's Mr. Ealing?
- At the b-b-bank. He's our guardian.

He takes care of the m-m-money.

Well, I'd like to be an orphan heiress
and get my pocket money...

from bankers that
don't know any better.

Does your brother
get one and six too?

I d-d-don't know.
He's 14.

My b-b-brother has run away...

from four schools.

Your brother sounds
like a bad lot.

So I thought that this Sunday...

I would treat myself
to one last day...

of sun and water.

I wonder, Mr. Lowther,
if you might be able to help me.

- In what way, Miss Brodie?
- Why, you might know if there's any possibility...

of my renting
a little boat at Cramond.

Oh, well, Miss Brodie,
I have a boat.

Oh, do you, Mr. Lowther?

It would give me
the greatest pleasure, uh...

I mean, i-if you would consider
coming with me.

Oh, but I couldn't
trouble you, Mr. Lowther.

Trouble? Oh, Miss Brodie,
I would have asked you before many times...

but I... I didn't want
to seem to push myself.

Please, Miss Brodie,
say you'll come with me.

Very well, Mr. Lowther.
On Sunday?

On Sunday.

After church, of course.

Oh, of course, Mr. Lowther.

Do you think Mr. Lloyd
is the crème de la crème...

or Mr. Lowther?

Neither. It's us.

"Little girls, if you will
only listen to me...

I will make of you
the crème de la crème."

My father says these are
the happiest days of our lives.

But if these are supposed
to be the happiest...

why does Miss Brodie
say prime is best?

Miss Brodie never got married
like our mothers and fathers.

- They don't have primes.
- They have sexual intercourse.

- Oh, I don't like to think about it.
- You don't have to.

It happens on
the spur of the moment.

You lead.

- How do you know?
- About what?

What you were saying... about how sexual
intercourse happens on the spur of the moment.

Because it happened to Teenie,
that works in my father's shop...

when she was out walking
at Puddocky with her boyfriend.

They had to get married.

You'd think the urge would have passed
by the time they'd got their clothes off.

Yes. That's what
I can't understand.

People take their clothes off
in front of each other.

It's so rude.

They're bound to be
put off their passion.

Do you think Miss Brodie
ever had sexual intercourse...

with Hugh of Flanders field...
before he fell?

I don't know.

I don't think
they did anything like that.

Their love was above all that.

Well, Miss Brodie said
they clung to each other...

with passionate abandon
on his last leave.

I don't think they took
their clothes off though. Do you?

No. I can't see it.

Observe, little girls,
the castle.

It is built on a rock
of volcanic plug.

It was through
one of yon windows...

that Mary, Queen of Scots
lowered her infant son...

straight down 187 feet
in a basket in a high wind.

Mary McGregor, will you please
do up your shoelace?

Oh. Observe the litter.

In Italy, Mussolini has put an end
to litter in the streets.

Do any of you little girls remember what
the followers of Mussolini are called?

- Fascisti.
- That is correct. F-A-S-C-I-S-T-I.

Fascisti.
And Mussolini is called?

- "Dukee".
- Il Duce. That is to say, the leader.

Il Duce.
We move on.

Straighten your shoulders,
Mary McGregor.

All you girls must learn to
walk with your heads up, up...

like Sybil Thorndike,
a woman of noble mean.

In the Kirk of the Greyfriars...

on the 20th day
of February, 1638...

the people of Scotland
pledged themselves...

to the Presbyterian faith.

Many of them used their own blood
to sign the covenant.

- Ew.
- This part of Edinburgh is very rich in history.

It is very romantic.

So you see, little girls,
you must always remember...

you are citizens of Edinburgh,
city of Hume and Boswell.

You are Europeans,
not dowdy provincials.

- Sandy, what on earth are you doing?
- Walking like Sybil Thorndike.

You know, one day, Sandy,
one day you will go too far.

- Hello.
- Oh, Mr. Lloyd.

Girls, you know Mr. Lloyd, the art master
from the senior school.

- Yes.
- Good afternoon, Mr. Lloyd.

- Good afternoon, girls.
- Mr. Lloyd has his studio somewhere in this neighborhood.

Number six... fourth floor, front.
The door's always open.

I've been giving my girls an outing.
We've been to the gallery.

I've been telling them
the story of Gauguin.

Ah, the dangerous Miss Brodie.

By whom, pray,
am I considered to be dangerous?

It is the consensus.
Your girls are said to be vastly informed...

in subjects irrelevant
to the accepted curriculum.

Most heinous of all,
you are said to inculcate no team spirit.

Is that true, girls?

Does Miss Brodie incite you
to shirk your duties on the hockey field?

Phrases like the "team spirit" are always
employed to cut across individualism.

Cleopatra knew nothing of the team spirit,
if you read your Shakespeare.

And where would the team spirit
have got Anna Pavlova?

She is the prima ballerina.

It is the corps de ballet
that had the team spirit.

Oh, Miss Brodie,
you are dangerous.

Mm-hmm. Yes.
We must away and catch our tram.

I doubt we will get seats.
It is 1932, and chivalry is dead.

Miss Brodie?

I do want you to come and see
the picture, the one I told you about.

What about next weekend?

- No. I'm afraid I'm going...
- Going to Cramond?

Why, yes. My girls and I spend nearly
every weekend at Cramond.

Mr. Lowther
is most hospitable.

Good afternoon,
Mr. Lloyd.

Come along, girls.

Got it!

There we are.

- Oh, there's some nice ones up here.
- No. Get one.

- I'm watching. It's all right.
- Watch out.

Thank you.

Crepe de Chine.

Miss Brodie's legs
are longer than Mr. Lowther's.

She'd have to
wrap hers around his.

First he puts out the light.

Then their toes touch.

Then...
"Miss Brodie, Miss Brodie".

Miss Brodie says, "Darling".

- She says...
- "Mr. Lowther...

you are the crème de la crème".

We will have to watch
Miss Brodie's stomach.

It is the curve
I am attempting to introduce you to.

The curve here in this drape...

and here, and here in the arm.

The curve flows through
a painting like a river.

It is sinuous, sensuous...

epitomizing everything
that is female.

The curve is a beckoning line...

here, and here.

And here, in the breast.

And the belly!
And the buttocks!

Shut up!

Go on.
Get along with you.

Go to your sewing classes and your
singing lessons. It's all you deserve.

"They flee from me...

who once did seek me out".

I miss you, Jean.
Shall I beg you?

Please, come back.

You have a family.
I am a teacher.

I had a family last June.
You were a teacher last June.

My God. I wish I had a pound note
for every time I've heard you say...

"I am a teacher. I am a teacher.
First, last and always".

What a firm reminder
your postcard was.

A postcard from romantic Italy.

The incomparable
Giotto frescoes...

How triumphantly his figures vibrate
with life. Yours truly, J. Brodie...

A postcard from my passionate,
abandoned inamorata.

That night at the studio...

that one night at the studio...

I was pleased to feel it was I
who enjoyed the tutorial position.

Come back, Jean.

I need you.

Mary McGregor!

Mary McGregor, do you know
what happened to Peeping Tom?

His eyes were shriveled
into darkness in his head...

and dropped before him!

Poor old Tom.

Don't worry, Jean. You've got your girls
well trained. You're safe from that quarter.

It's me you've got
to worry about.

Come to the studio.
Come to pose again.

- Only to pose.
- You should paint one of my girls.

- Jenny is the pretty one.
- Hang your girls. It's you I want to paint.

I will not come to the studio.

Then to hell with you!

Teddy, you know,
you really should paint Jenny.

You'd like Jenny.
She has a profile...

of deceptive purity.

What's the matter with you, Mary?
What's happened to you?

Your face is all funny.

N-No, it's not.

Yes, it is, Mary.
Very funny.

So is your voice.

Well, well.
Miss Brodie's brood, I presume.

Yes, Mr. Lloyd.

- Would you like a rosebud?
- A what?

It's the favorite sweet
of little Princess Margaret Rose.

Unmistakably Brodie.

And you, I suppose,
are the pretty one.

Good afternoon, girls.

Mary, you're definitely
upset about something.

- N-No.
- Tell! Tell, or I'll pinch you.

- Tell.
- No, I w-won't tell.

I love Miss Brodie,
and I won't t-tell.

What about Miss Brodie?

Tell, or we'll take you
into the locker room...

- and hang you over the banisters.
- You wouldn't d-dare.

- Tell!
- It's n-none of your b-b-business!

No! Stop!

Get your hands off of me! Help!

- Let go of me!
- Aaah! No!

If you scream again...

we'll drop you squoosh
on your silly head.

Mary, dear, if something's happened
with Miss Brodie, you should tell me.

- What have you done?
- She was s-so angry!

Well, you know
how you are, Mary.

- What have you done now?
- Nothing.

I j-j-just went in.

- In where?
- The classroom!

So?

There they were!

- There who were?
- Oh, Mr. Lowther.!

Miss Brodie
and Mr. Lowther.!

No! M-M-Mr. Lloyd!
They were kissing!

Kissing?

I saw them k-k-kissing...

together.

- He had his arms around her.
- Mr. Lloyd!

Mr. Lloyd! Mr. Lloyd's
in love with Miss Brodie!

And she's in I-love
with M-Mr. Lloyd.

You should have s-seen them.

But what about
Mr. Lowther then?

Mr. Lloyd is an artist.
And Miss Brodie's artistic too.

Miss Brodie's really in love with
Mr. Lloyd, but he's married to another...

so she's working it off
on Mr. Lowther.

- Oh.
- Let's go home.

Listen, Mary.

Was it a long, lingering kiss?

I shouldn't have t-told you.

But since you did,
was it a long, lingering kiss?

- Yes.
- I see.

- Didn't they hear you?
- I d-don't think so.

They jumped apart though.

You mean,
they sensed your presence?

I d-d-don't know.

Was it like this...

That's it! That's it!

It's nearly 5:00. Time you girls were away.
What were you doing, Sandy?

- Just playacting, Miss Mackay.
- Playacting at what?

- Opera.
- Opera?

Yes, Miss Mackay.
We've been studying Traviata.

Sandy, show me
what you were doing.

Go on. Show me.

That's enough, Sandy.

She was doing Violetta
expiring for love of Alfredo.

- It's very sad.
- Oh, nonsense.

Violetta did not expire
for love of Alfredo.

Violetta was a thoroughly silly woman
with diseased lungs.

If she'd been properly
brought up...

she'd have been out on the hockey field,
breathing deeply.

Which is precisely what
you little girls should be doing.

Traviata is not
on the Marcia Blaine curriculum.

But Miss Brodie and Mr. Lowther
took us to see Traviata...

when the Carl Rosa Company
came to Edinburgh.

Miss Brodie and Mr. Lowther
took you to the opera?

Mr. Lowther's jolly nice.
We go to visit him at Cramond too.

When Miss Brodie goes...
on weekends.

How very nice
of Mr. Lowther...

and Miss Brodie.

I hope you're appreciative.

My, my. Miss Brodie's very musical,
I believe...

theaters, concerts
and the opera.

Miss Brodie is very musical.

I think Miss Brodie's
more interested in art, Miss Mackay.

Now, what makes you think
Miss Brodie prefers art to music, Sandy?

She told us so.

Music is an interest to her,
but painting is a passion.

Miss Brodie said.

- A passion?
- Compared to music.

Well, Mary...

I'm sure you're too young
to have passions.

- What are your cultural interests?
- Stories.

Does Miss Brodie
tell you stories?

Oh, yes.

L-L-Love...

Lovely stories.

- Stories like Traviata?
- Stories of history.

- History.
- She makes history seem like the cinema.

- No. Not the cinema. More like Shakespeare.
- Shakespeare.

Indeed.

My, what would we do
without Miss Brodie?

I could wish
your arithmetic papers were better.

Culture is no compensation
for lack of hard knowledge.

I'm happy to see you are devoted
to Miss Brodie.

Your loyalty is also
due to the school.

I'm always impressed
by Miss Brodie's girls...

in one way or another.

Benito Mussolini is a great man.

He began life as a journalist...

a man of learning,
an intellectual...

but he is also a man of action.

He has made Capri
into a sanctuary for birds.

A simple act of goodness.

If you all turn to page 25 of your
geography books, you'll find a map of Capri.

It's off the coast of Naples.

It is because of Il Duce
thousands of birds live and sing there today...

that might well have ended
their careers on a piece of toast.

Miss Gaunt,
is there something you wanted?

Thank you.

"Dear Miss Brodie,
I hope it will be convenient for you...

"to see me in my office
this afternoon at 4:15.

Emmaline Mackay".

4:15. Not 4:00.
Not 4:30, but 4:15.

She thinks to intimidate me,
by the use of quarter hours.

Now, as I was
attempting to say...

Benito Mussolini
is indeed a man of action.

Come in.

4:15. I was afraid
I might be late, or early.

Not at all.
You are most punctilious.

Thank you for finding the time.

I know how busy
your girls keep you.

- Please, sit down.
- Oh. Thank you.

What a colorful frock.

Color enlivens the spirit,
does it not?

Perhaps you're right, though I wonder
if the spirits of the girls need enlivening.

Oh, indeed they do!

My credo is,
"Lift, enliven, stimulate"

No doubt.
But the Marcia Blaine School...

is essentially
a conservative school.

We do not encourage
the, uh, progressive attitudes.

Now, Miss Brodie,
I have noticed...

a spirit of precocity among your girls...
your special girls.

- Why, thank you.
- Oh.

I am in my prime...

and my girls are
benefiting from it.

I'm proud to think that perhaps
my girls are more aware.

- Precisely. Now...
- To me, education is a leading out.

The word education comes
from the root "ex", meaning "out",

and "duco": "I lead".

To me, education is simply a...
a leading out...

of what is already there.

I had hoped there might also be
a certain amount of putting in.

That would not be education,
but intrusion...

from the root prefix "in",
meaning "in",

and the stem "trudo": "I thrust".

Ergo, to thrust a lot
of information into a pupil's head.

To discuss education with such
a dedicated teacher...

is always instructive.

However, it was not for that reason
I asked you to come here.

Miss Brodie...

I am told that you make
weekly expeditions to Cramond.

Yes. Isn't it
a lovely spot?

It is, indeed.

I believe Mr. Lowther inherited
the estate from his mother.

He's lived there all his life.

Mr. Lowther is not
a worldly man...

not a reckless man.

It is doubtful whether he would
recognize recklessness in others.

And recklessness
is an indulgence...

that we at Marcia Blaine
must eschew...

not only within our walls,
but in the personal life...

the conduct, as it were,
of the teaching staff.

Oh, Miss Mackay...

I do not believe I have
ever fully appreciated...

the taxing load of trivia...

with which a headmistress
must concern herself.

I must concern myself, Miss Brodie,
with this school's board of governors.

I flatter myself that I am not
unknown to the board...

having been a member
of the staff of Marcia Blaine...

six years prior
to your engagement, Miss Mackay.

I feel quite safe in saying...

that no member of the board
has ever shown anything...

but appreciation and approval
of my teaching methods.

Oh! Oh, Miss Mackay...

I use the woods of Cramond
for lessons in botany...

the rocks of the shore to investigate
the mysteries of geology.

It should be patently clear
that my expeditions to Cramond...

are expeditions for enrichment.

Enrichment for my girls...
and for Marcia Blaine.

Well.
Thank you, Miss Brodie.

I feel sure you and I have come
to understand each other better.

I'm always
at your command, Miss Mackay.

I am delighted to hear it.

Good day, Miss Brodie.

Oh, chrysanthemums.

Such serviceable flowers.

May I have a word with you,
Miss Gaunt?

Miss Gaunt, you are, of course,
aware of the problem...

when a teacher has tenure
and the loyalty of her pupils.

It's not going to
be easy, Miss Gaunt.

However, no doubt,
in due time...

some advantage will
be vouchsafed us.

In the meanwhile, I would deem it
a sincere service to the school...

if any indiscretion
that might reach your ears...

should also reach mine.

Also, your brother...

is a deacon of Cramond Kirk,
is he not...

and naturally eager
to preserve its sanctity?

Thank you, Miss Gaunt.

What are you writing?

"My dear, delightful Gordon...

your letter has moved me deeply,
as you may imagine.

But, alas, I must ever decline
to be Mrs. Lowther.

My reasons are twofold...

I am dedicated to my girls,
as is madame Pavlova...

and there is another in my life.

He is Teddy Lloyd...

Here. Let me. Let me.

"But we can still have...

many a breezy day
in the fishing boat...

at sea...

- Shh!
- What are you two girls up to?

Gather your things together,
and leave at once.

This is a library,
not a fun fair!

- Are those your books?
- No, Miss McKenzie.

I want you to remember, girls...

that it is
of primary importance...

that the upper
and lower tensions...

are perfectly even.

And secondly, girls,
it is most important...

to ensure that you are using...

the correct length of stitch.

If we were to fill this room
with the hydrogen being made in these jars...

and then strike a match...

there'd be an explosion large enough
to reduce this building to rubble.

Look. I'll show you.

♪ Hey, Johnnie Cope
are ye waukin' yet

♪ Or are your drums
a-beatin' yet

♪ If ye were waukin'
I wad wait

♪ To gang to the coals
in the mornin'

All together now.

♪ Hey, Johnnie Cope
are ye waukin' yet

♪ Or are your drums
a-beatin' yet

♪ If ye were waukin'
I wad wait

♪ To gang to the coals
in the mornin'

The sun!

Forsooth, we are renewed.
Refreshment alfresco.

Enough to go round,
but the lion's share for Mr. Lowther.

This term, I have sworn
to fatten Mr. Lowther...

by a full half-stone.

That is my pledge.

Did I neglect to tell you girls that once,
on leave from the war...

Hugh took me out sailing
on a fishing boat.

We spent our happiest times among
the rocks and pebbles of a small seaport.

Sometimes Hugh would sing.

He had a rich tenor voice.

At other times, he would set up
his easel and paint.

Hugh was very talented
in both arts...

but I think...

I think the painter
was the real Hugh.

But you girls are my life now.

I am the potter,
and you are my pride.

You are shaping up.

Soon you will graduate
to the senior school...

and I will no longer
teach you...

but you will always be
Brodie girls.

Ah! Here comes
our Mr. Lowther.

"Our minstrel sweet,
oh, synge unto me roundelaie.

Oh, droppe
the brynie tear with me.

De da de da de da de da
and like a running river be...

Now, Mr. Lowther, you must
cooperate with the fattening project.

It will enrich your voice.
Caruso had the appetite of a giant.

What good care you take of me.

♪ La, la, la, la, la-la
La, la, la, la la-la

I was noticed at the theater.

I was noticed and reported
to Mr. Gaunt.

Mr. Gaunt?
Oh, that deacon at Cramond.

Whatever for?

Well, he considered
Hedda Gabler...

Well, he said
that the choirmaster of his church...

had no business attending that sort of thing
with an unmarried lady and children.

O-Oh, I defended myself...

fiercely.

Girls, as you hear,
there's now been an attempt...

to persecute Mr. Lowther
on our account.

One must never succumb
to provincial ignorance.

Mr. Lowther did not...

nor shall anyone
under my tutelage.

Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther.
What is it, Sandy?

Miss Mackay is watching us
from her window.

Oh, indeed.

I wonder how many more picnics
we will be allowed...

before Miss Mackay thinks
fit to patrol the grounds.

It is Miss Mackay's hope to harass me...

into leaving Marcia Blaine.

Miss Gaunt
and certain teachers...

have taken to bidding me good morning
with predestination in their smiles.

Do you really think
Miss Mackay wants to drive you away?

It doesn't signify
what Miss Mackay wants.

Here I am, and here I stay.
I would not leave you girls for the Lord...

Lyon, king of arms.

Not even he! I shall remain
in this education factory...

where my duty lies.

If they want to get rid of me,
they'll have to...

...assassinate me!

Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther.

Cooperation is the keynote. Now, Jenny,
do us a cartwheel for comic relief.

- Oh! Wonderful!
- Bravo. Bravo! Bravo!

Bravo! Oh.

- Oh.
- These are my girls, Mr. Lowther.

Forsooth, they are Brodie girls.

Monica...
Monica is histrionic.

She will perform in plays...

or perhaps write them.

Mary...

our Mary is alone in this world.

Her needs are great,
but she has me.

Mary will stop stuttering.
She will brisk up.

Mary McGregor will
distinguish herself for me.

I have no doubt.

Then there is Jenny.

Sometimes I feel there is
a spiritual bond...

between Jenny and me.

I don't expect Jenny feels this yet,
but someday she will.

And Sandy...

...Sandy is...

- ...Sandy is dependable.
- Oh, Sandy.

Sandy is very dependable.

Now, Monica,
recite for us, please.

What shall I recite,
Miss Brodie?

Something...
Something of magic.

"There she weaves
by night and day...

a magic web with colors gay.

She has heard a whisper say...

a curse is on her if she stay...

to look down on Camelot.

She knows not what
the curse may be...

Mr. Lowther,
the Philistines are upon us.

She knows not what
the curse may be...

and so she weaveth steadily...

and little
other care hath she...

the Lady of Shalott.

But in her web,
she still delights...

to weave the mirror's
magic sights...

for often through
the silent nights...

a funeral with plumes
and lights and music...

went to Camelot...

or when the moon was overhead...

came two young lovers
lately wed.

I am half sick of shadows,

said the Lady of Shalott.

The Lady of Shalott.

I think perhaps someday...

Jenny will catch the eye
of an artist.

Jenny will be
painted many times.

In years to come...

I think that Jenny
will be famous...

for...

sex.

Well, Monica,
what do you think of it?

It makes her look
very... mature.

I am very mature.

We're all mature.

Some people at the school
think you're too mature.

Everyone's jealous.

They know the Brodie set
has more fun than anyone else.

We go places, and we do things.

And now you've taken to
hanging around an artist's studio.

- Very glamorous.
- Miss Brodie's g-g-glamorous, don't you think?

Mr. Lowther thinks she is.

Sandy's awfully late.
Do you think she's coming?

Three years of Cramond
and Mr. Lowther.

- What stamina.
- There's always lovely food at Cramond.

Lasagna Verde.

Sweetbreads à la Milanese.

"Harlot" russe.

Charlotte russe.

Miss Brodie takes good care
of Mr. Lowther.

- What does Mr. Lowther do for Miss Brodie?
- He sings to her.

Put that wet thing over there.

Mary, for the third time
this afternoon...

- will you get out of the way?
- Sorry.

Mary McGregor.

Well, Mary, what's new on the Rialto?
What's new with your brother?

How's he progressing
up at Oxford?

His t-t-tutor caught fire.

Caught fire?
His tutor?

- Well, how? From what?
- From my brother.

Your brother set fire
to the tutor?

Your brother should be put
in a house of correction.

It makes me look very mature.

It makes you look
like Miss Brodie.

All the sketches of Jenny do too.
They all look like Miss Brodie.

- I think they do.
- Ew.!

I painted that chap
in my student days.

It's what's called
a "life study".

I had a difficult time
with the pectoral muscles.

Pectoral?

- Chest.
- Oh.

- Oh, Monica!
- What?

Miss Brodie says that anyone
of a cultured home and heritage...

- makes no fuss about the human body.
- Who's making any fuss?

- You are.
- I have as much heritage as you do any day.

I think that's enough for today.

If I keep on,
I shall ruin the mouth...

and that would be a pity.

- What do you think?
- Well, uh, I think that it's...

- It's...
- Miss Brodie says that Jenny will be painted many times.

- And what does she say about you?
- That I am dependable.

When should I come back?

Whenever you have time.
Come next Saturday.

- All right. Come on, Sandy. I'm starving.
- I can't come with you.

- I've got to meet my mother.
- Oh, your eternal mother!

- Good-bye, girls.
- Bye, Mr. Lloyd.

- My feet are wet.
- Take your shoes off then, silly.

Dry them by the stove.

I'll make some tea.

- Aren't there any more biscuits?
- No, that's the lot.

I'm not up to
Cramond standards, I fear.

Lasagna Verde, "harlot" russe.

A wonder all that rich food
doesn't give old Lowther a stoppage.

He eats his greens.

Do you paint portraits
of your own children too?

Is that your wife?

That's my wife.
Her name is Deirdre.

Is she in her prime?

Perhaps not quite yet.

One day, I'd like to paint
all you Brodie girls.

It'd be interesting to see what sort
of group I can make of you.

We'd all look like
one great big Brodie I suppose.

You're a clever little cat,
aren't you?

That will teach you to look
at an artist like that.

Don't you want
the rest of your things?

Can't have you running through
the streets like a wee whore.

Oh, there's Sandy!

Sandy!

Sandy.!
Sandy, dear.!

Hello, Miss Brodie,
Mr. Lowther.

Whatever are you
doing in this neighborhood?

Mr. Lowther and I have been shopping
for tomorrow's lunch.

Thank goodness we can still have
our Sunday lunch at Cramond.

I can't tell you how much I miss
having you girls in my class this year.

We miss you too, Miss Brodie.

Tomorrow, I must tell you girls
of a new plot Miss Mackay has...

to force me to apply for a post at a
progressive... that is to say a crank... school.

But I shall stay at Marcia Blaine
where my duty lies.

- If they want to get rid of me, they will have to...
- Assassinate you.

Precisely. I thought you were to attend
some social gathering with Jenny.

- Where is Jenny?
- She went on home ahead of me.

- I stayed at the studio...
- The studio?

She... Uh,
Jenny just left, you see.

Mr. Lloyd's studio.
Whatever were you doing there?

It was supposed
to be a surprise.

Jenny is sitting
for Mr. Lloyd.

Jenny is sitting
for Mr. Lloyd...

And I wasn't...
When did this begin?

- At the start of term. I shouldn't have told you.
- Jean...

Oh, I'm very glad
you did tell me, Sandy.

You are developing into a girl
of great insight.

- Thank you, Miss Brodie.
- You know, Sandy...

I would be very interested to hear
your own impressions of Jenny's portrait.

But we won't discuss it
with the others.

So Monday, after school,
you'll come to my flat for tea.

We'll have a nice,
quiet time together.

Yes, Miss Brodie.

Well, come now. I'm sure
Mr. Lowther will take you home.

In you get, Sandy.
Can you manage, dear?

- Yes, thank you.
- Thank you, Gordon.

- You're very kind.
- Oh, you're more than welcome.

It's a painting
of Mr. Lloyd's family.

It starts with himself
and his wife...

and then all the children graded downwards
to the baby and the dog on the floor.

It's supposed to be funny...

but the funniest part is,
they all look like you.

Like me?

Yes. Even the baby.

Everybody he paints
looks like you.

You shall butter the scones,
Sandy, dear.

Be generous.

Uh, does the portrait
of Jenny look like me?

Oh, yes.

Mr. Lloyd might want
to paint me too.

I doubt if having your portrait painted
is going to be your career.

Would you mind shutting the window, dear?
There's a wee bit of a draft.

What do you think
it will be, Miss Brodie?

Uh, what do I think
what will be?

My career.

Well, you're quite
intelligent, of course.

Actually, Sandy, you have
something more than mere intelligence.

You have insight.

There goes Miss Lockhart.

The chemistry teacher?

Yes. She's got
her golf clubs.

Monica saw Mr. Lowther
playing golf with Miss Lockhart...

twice.

Indeed?

Well, I know very little
of, uh, Miss Lockhart.

I leave her
to her jars and gases.

We were talking
about your insight, Sandy.

You do have insight...

and Jenny...
has got instinct.

Jenny will be a great lover.

She's like a heroine from a novel
by Mr. D.H. Lawrence.

The common moral code will not
apply to her. She will be above it.

This is a fact which only someone
with your insight should know about.

You know, Sandy...

you would make an excellent
secret service agent...

a great spy.

Sandy, you must try
not to peer at people.

It makes a most rude impression.

Why do you think I would
make a good spy, Miss Brodie?

Well, because you are intelligent
and not... emotional.

I've observed this
constraint in you.

It has, from time to time,
distressed me...

as I myself am a...
deeply emotional woman.

I feel many things passionately.

I feel things, Miss Brodie.

Well, everybody does, of course.

It's simply a matter of degree.

Actually, passion would be
a great handicap to a spy.

- It would?
- Definitely.

What did you mean
when you said that, uh...

Jenny was above
the common moral code?

Oh, simply that it
will not apply to her.

She is the exception...

and we can help Jenny
to realize this.

- Oh, Sandy, dear, I forgot the hot water.
- I'll get it.

Thank you, dear.

Miss Brodie, how do you think
that we can help Jenny?

We can encourage her,
give her confidence.

Confidence for what?

For when she is 18.

With a girl like Jenny...

perhaps even 17.

Soon she will...
know love.

Do you understand that, Sandy?

You mean she'll have affairs...

love affairs.

Oh, Sandy, you do have insight.

I am never wrong.

I can always depend on you.

Little girls, you must all learn
to cultivate an expression of composure.

It is one of
the greatest assets of a woman...

an expression of composure,
come foul, come fair.

Regard the Mona Lisa.

She's older than the rocks
on which she sits.

Whom did I say to regard, Clara?

The Mona Lisa, Miss Brodie.

That is correct.
Clara has artistic tendencies.

Little girls, I am in the business of putting
old heads on young shoulders.

And all my pupils
are the crème de la crème.

Jean!
Oh, Jean!

- Mr. Lowther!
- Jean... Uh...

Miss Brodie. Miss Mackay. I've just left her.
I don't know what to do.

Did you wish to speak
to me about something?

What can you be up to, Gordon?

Such a display
in front of the children.

It's Miss Mackay.
She dismissed my class!

She's found something terrible!
Something incriminating!

She demands to see us
both together immediately! Immediately.

I am not accustomed to being
summoned immediately. Not by anyone.

But, Jean, she sent me to get you!
She said now.

Please!
Pull yourself together, Gordon.

I promise I won't let
Miss Mackay stand you in the corner.

Just you wait there a minute.

Well, your headmistress,
Miss Mackay...

wishes to see me
for a few minutes.

She has a wee problem
she wishes to discuss with me.

Now, what subject were we doing?

- History, Miss Brodie.
- Oh, yes.

Open your history books.

While I'm away from the room...

you will all read the chapter on
the succession of the Stuarts.

You will sit quietly in your seats
and remain composed...

like the Mona Lisa.

Miss Brodie, do you
know what this is?

It would appear to be a piece of blue paper
with writing on it in pencil.

It is, in fact, a letter.

It was found by Miss McKenzie
in a library book.

She glanced at it, but after the first
sentence, she dared not actually read it.

She brought it instantly to me.

Yes.
Is it addressed to you?

No, Miss Brodie.
It's addressed to Mr. Lowther...

but it is signed by you.

- I shall begin.
- Oh, please do.

Of course, I realize
it is a forgery...

just the work of a child.

"My dear, delightful Gordon...

your letter has moved me deeply,
as you may imagine...

but, alas, I must ever decline
to be Mrs. Lowther.

My reasons are twofold.

I am dedicated to my girls...

as is madame Pavlova...

and there is another in my life...
he is Teddy Lloyd.

Intimacy has never taken place with him.
He is married to another.

We are not lovers,
but we know the truth.

However, I was proud of giving myself to you
when you came and took me...

in the bracken while
the storm raged about us.

If I am in
a certain condition...

I shall place the infant in the care
of a worthy shepherd and his wife.

I may permit misconduct to occur again
from time to time as an outlet...

because I am in my prime.

We can also have many a... breezy day
in the fishing boat at sea.

We must keep a sharp lookout for Miss Mackay,
however, as she's rather narrow...

which arises from an ignorance of culture
and the Italian scene.

I love to hear you singing
"Hey, Johnny Cope".

But were I to receive
a proposal of marriage tomorrow...

from the Lord Lyon, king of arms,
I would decline it.

Allow me, in conclusion...

to congratulate you warmly on your
sexual intercourse as well as your singing.

With fondest joy, Jean Brodie...

Is this what your girls,
your set...

has learned under your auspices,
Miss Brodie?

It's a literary collaboration.
Two separate hands are involved.

One of the authors
slants her tail consonants...

in an unorthodox manner,
and the other does not.

Also, the paper seems
somewhat aged.

Is that all you have to say?

What else is there to say?

Two little girls at the age
of budding sexual fantasy...

have concocted a romance
for themselves.

They've chosen me as a romantic symbol.
Is that so surprising?

Do you deny that you encourage
these fantasies, as you call them?

Do you deny that by consorting openly
with Mr. Lowther of Cramond...

you lead these poor children
into the most fevered conclusions?

Not only Mr. Lowther, but Mr. Lloyd
is brought into the circle of fire.

Mr. Lloyd, who has
a wife and... six children.

It is diabolic that infants should
be knowledgeable...

12-year-old girls
are not infants, Miss Mackay.

- How do you know they're 12 years old?
- From the handwriting...

the vocabulary, the rudimentary
knowledge of the facts of life.

Oh, surely you cannot believe that that is
the work of 9-year-olds?

I could believe it was the work
of your 9-year-olds, Miss Brodie.

There's very little
for me to say, Miss Mackay...

in the face of your
extraordinary prejudice and hostility.

Miss Brodie, I am not
asking you to say anything.

I am asking... demanding...

that you put your signature,
your own signature...

on a letter of resignation
which I have prepared for you.

I will not resign.

If you will not resign,
you will force me to dismiss you.

I will not resign...

and you will not dismiss me,
Miss Mackay.

You will not use
the excuse of that pathetic...

that humorous document
to blackmail me!

Mr. Lowther,
you are a witness to this.

Miss Mackay has made totally unsupported
accusations against my name and yours.

If she has one
authentic shred of evidence...

just one,
let her bring it forth!

Otherwise, if one more word of this
outrageous calumny reaches my ears, I shall sue!

I shall take Miss Mackay
to the public courts...

and I shall sue the trustees of
Marcia Blaine, if they support her.

I will not stand quietly by
and allow myself to be crucified...

by a woman whose fetid frustration
has overcome her judgment!

If scandal is to your taste,
Miss Mackay, I shall give you a feast!

- Miss Brodie!
- I am a teacher!

I am a teacher,
first, last, always!

Do you imagine
that for one instant...

I will let that be taken
from me without a fight?

I have dedicated, sacrificed
my life to this profession.

And I will not stand by
like an inky little slacker...

and watch you rob me
of it and for what?

For what reason?
For jealousy!

Because I have the gift
of claiming girls for my own.

It is true I am
a strong influence on my girls.

I am proud of it!

I influence them to be
aware of all the possibilities of life...

of beauty, honor, courage.

I do not, Miss Mackay, influence them
to look for slime where it does not exist!

I am going.

When my class convenes,
my pupils will find me composed...

and prepared to reveal to them
the succession of the Stuarts.

And on Sunday, I will go to Cramond
to visit Mr. Lowther.

We are accustomed,
bachelor and spinster...

to spend our Sundays together
in sailing and walking the beaches...

and in the pursuit of music.

Mr. Lowther is teaching me
to play the mandolin.

Good day, Miss Mackay.

Uh, Mr. Lowther...

I am sure I need not
suggest to you that we keep...

the details of Miss Brodie's
little... tantrum to ourselves.

- Yes...
- I've no doubt that you, as well as I...

- have her interests at heart.
- Well, I...

Thank you,
Mr. Lowther.

No doubt you have
other duties to attend to.

Oh, yes. Yes, Miss Mackay.
Thank you. Thank you very much.

Jean!

Jean, you were heroic!
Heroic!

Oh, to see you like that,
it was really inspiring!

If only I could have stood up
like that to Mr. Gaunt, if I said...

"Look here, Mr. Gaunt. If you have
one authentic shred of evidence, just one..."

- What are you talking about?
- Mr. Gaunt called to see me the night before last.

He advised me to resign as organist
and elder of the church. He spoke plainly.

And what did you answer?

I resigned.

And you allowed this
evil-minded man...

a man who uses his position
as deacon of the Kirk...

to receive the slanderous gossip
of petty provincials...

But Jean, it isn't just gossip.

You do not go home
on Sunday nights.

They had no proof!
None whatever.

You should have refused
point-blank to resign.

Can't you see that resignation
is tantamount to a confession of guilt.

- But I feel guilty.
- Well, I do not!

Will you not marry me and put an end
to all this sneaking about?

- Why won't you marry me?
- Only yesterday...

it was told to my face that you are planning
to marry the chemistry teacher.

Oh, I... I played golf
with Miss Lockhart once.

- Twice.
- Twice?

Beware.
Don't trifle with her.

She has the means
to blow us all up.

Now, don't tease me, Jean.
Miss Lockhart means nothing to me.

You know all I care about is you.
All I want is to see you happy and safe.

I don't understand you, Jean.

You will not marry me,
yet you feed me and share my bed.

"Share your bed"!
Why can't you say you are my lover?

I do not want
to be your lover...

I want to be your husband.

I want to go on my honeymoon where my mother
and father went on their honeymoon...

and come back to Cramond
with my bride.

That's what I want.

And I want to conduct
the church choir too.

Rumors are flying.
Are you out?

Hmph! On the contrary,
Miss Mackay experienced...

the utmost difficulty
in persuading me to stay.

How I wish I might have heard her plea.

The utmost difficulty.
You've been painting Jenny.

- Yes, that's right.
- I am glad, very glad.

She's getting more beautiful each year.
She quite amazes me.

You see it too.
You're an artist.

You see things other men don't see.
You must see it.

Jenny's quite a pretty girl.

Pretty? No, no.
It's much more than that.

She has... extraordinary
physical instincts...

Primitive and free.

Primitive?
Little Jenny?

What are you up to, Jean?

I'm only trying to tell you
I've always felt that Jenny...

could be
magnificently elevated...

above the ordinary rung
of lovers.

What are you talking about?

It's just that I've
always known that one day...

you would paint Jenny.

Paint Jenny?

Jean, I think you're quite aware
of what you're doing.

You're trying to put that child
in my bed in your place.

Don't be disgusting!

It's only the words that disgust you!
You don't boggle at the thought, do you?

You'll accept anything,
anything but reality!

Trying to use Jenny and poor old Lowther,
making him play house.

I do not use Mr. Lowther.
It is I who allow myself to be used.

I give him every attention.
I cook for him.

You feed him instead of loving him.
Isn't that it?

You know nothing about what there is
of love between Gordon and me!

Oh, my God! All those boring hours
in bed with old Lowther...

puffing bravely away...

Good. That's more like it.
That was direct.

That's the first actual contact
between us in three years.

Get out! Get out!
Get out of my class! My girls.

Little girls, this is Mr. Lloyd,
the art master.

When you are 14,
if he is still at Marcia Blaine...

I will then hand you over to him,
and you will be fortunate enough...

to receive
his artistic guidance.

- Good-bye, girls.
- Good-bye, Mr. Lloyd.

See you in three years.

Good-bye, Miss Brodie.

I also hope I shall see you.

For the rest of the afternoon...

I have decided we will
not do more history.

Rather, I will show you some more slides...

of my last holidays in Italy.

Monitors, the blinds, please.

Clara, will you
pull down the screen?

I also spent
two weeks in Egypt...

where people do not believe
in God, but in Allah.

Kathryn, will you
switch on the light, please?

The bottom, left-hand side.

I have brought you these slides
at my own expense.

The girls at the back
may sit up on their desks.

Rome.

This is a large formation
of Il Duce's fascisti.

They are following him
in noble destiny.

I, myself,
mingled with such a crowd.

I wore my silk dress
with red poppies...

which is right for my coloring.

Benito Mussolini.

Il Duce.

Italy's leader supreme.

A Roman worthy of his heritage.
The greatest Roman of them all.

The Colosseum...

where Christian slaves
were thrown to the lions...

and gladiators
fought to the death.

"Hail, Caesar.
Those who are about to die salute thee".

Florence.

The David of Michelangelo.

That is the original David.

He's in the Galleria
dell'Accademia di Belle Arti.

There's a copy
in the Piazza della Signoria...

next to the Palazzo Vecchio.

He's there for any passer-by
to gaze upon and be uplifted.

He's at once the glory of the past
and the inspiration of the future.

David, the young warrior.

This is a picture
of the Ponte Vecchio...

"The old bridge" Ponte Vecchio.

There's a famous painting
of Dante meeting Beatrice...

It is pronounced
"Beatrichi" in Italian...

which makes it very beautiful...

Meeting Beatrice
on the Ponte Vecchio.

He fell in love with her
at that moment.

He was a man in his middle years.
She was 14. That can happen.

A mature man can find love
in a young girl, a very young girl.

Find the spring...

the essence of all old loves.

It is not unlikely that
we shall never know...

that Beatrice
reminded Dante sharply...

in that moment
when he first saw her...

on the Ponte Vecchio...

of an old love...

a lost love, a sublime love...

and he was seized
with such a longing...

such longing...

That picture
was painted by Rossetti.

Who was Dante Gabriel Rossetti?

Jenny, who was
Dante Gabriel Rossetti?

Clara.

A painter, Miss Brodie.

What... What was that you said?

A painter.

Yes. Yes, a painter.

Oh, yes.

A paint...
A painter.

Where you're mistaken is in supposing
that Jean Brodie is unique.

There's an army of these ladies
in Edinburgh.

It's simply that they do not
attempt to teach in schools...

of the traditional character
of Marcia Blaine.

She is a magnificent specimen.

She's utterly ridiculous.

There's no contradiction in being
both ridiculous and magnificent.

Your young mind will have to
stretch a bit to grasp that.

I think my young mind
is stretched astonishingly...

to be able to discuss
at 17... at 17...

the enduring passion
of my lover for another woman.

It is not only
astonishing, Sandy...

it is unnatural.

You should be passionate...

and involved...

and shortsighted.

- I'm tired.
- Take a rest, then.

I'll make some tea.

Her and her passions,
her fascisti.

You should see her skulking around
the third formers, trying to raise funds for Franco.

Franco? Oh, my God.

Oh, yes.
We've gone very Spanish this term...

what with Mary McGregor's
brother and all.

What's Mary McGregor's
miserable brother got to do with Franco?

Haven't you heard?
He's run off to Spain to fight.

Miss Brodie's
beside herself with joy.

Jean knows nothing of politics
or politicians.

She simply invests all leaders
with her own romantic vision.

Why isn't there ever
anything to eat in this place?

You know, it occurred to me
that the Brodie set...

has been Miss Brodie's faithful fascisti,
marching along...

and I suddenly thought
of her disapproval of the Girl Guides.

Why, it's simply jealousy.
The Guides are a rival fascisti...

and she cannot bear it.

How I wish
I'd joined the Brownies.

What a spiteful child it is.

You're too irritable
for a girl of your age.

My age does bother you,
doesn't it?

How much longer are you going to be
tempted by this firm, young flesh?

Until you're 18
and over the hill.

Hey, Teddy, take me dancing.

- Certainly not.
- What a coward.

A man with a wife and six children
plus a schoolgirl for a mistress...

can be called any number of rude names,
but "coward" is not one of them.

So sweet, the flesh of the neck.

If only it could be
bottled and sold across the counter.

I really shouldn't feed
your depraved appetite.

Hey, Teddy. Teddy, listen.
When can I look at my painting?

I'm very bored with not being allowed
to see my own portrait.

When I've finished it,
and I shall never finish it.

We shall go on like this
until one or both of us is dead.

Now. I want to see myself
mirrored in your eyes.

- I need a vision of myself.
- No, Sandy. No.

I haven't finished it yet.

- I'm not pleased with it yet.
- Oh, you.

You'll never be pleased.

Sandy!

I cannot help myself, Sandy.

Believe me, it has nothing to do
with what I feel for you.

Even the skin tones are hers.

It's not even my skin.

And I thought...
I really thought that you...

Well, you know, desired me.

Desired me.

I... I do.

It might just as well
have been Jenny after all.

It would have been
the same with anyone.

Sandy, listen to me.

Love is the most irrational thing
on God's Earth.

Do you think I choose
to love Jean Brodie?

If I could choose,
I would love my wife or you.

You are the most
remarkable girl I've ever known.

You are marvelous
and astonishing and desirable.

Why would I not choose to love you,
if I could choose?

Please don't think less
of yourself because I am...

bewitched.

Very well.
I shan't.

- Believe what I'm telling you.
- Oh, I believe you, Teddy.

I even believe that
you are bewitched.

I'm not sure about God, but I am now
quite sure about witches.

Will you be back tomorrow?

No, I won't be back.

That really would be
a waste of time, wouldn't it?

Good night, Teddy.

You can go on painting.

You don't really need a model.

As this seems to be
a time for truth...

you're quite
a mediocre painter, Teddy.

You'll never be really good.

I wonder you don't try
some other line.

You are getting on, you know.

Generalissimo Franco
is called El Jefe, the chief.

J-E-F-E.
The "J" is silent. El Jefe.

He is a dedicated man.

You must all grow up
to be dedicated women...

as generalissimo Franco has
dedicated himself to a cause...

as I have dedicated
myself to you.

Dedication is
the order of the day.

Oh, Mary McGregor, girls,
come and join us.

Mary, dear, is there any news
from your brother from Spain?

No, Miss Brodie.
Nothing.

Mr. Ealing at the b-bank
is sending for him...

sending d-d-detectives to Spain.

Your brother is being sent for?

Mr. Ealing at the bank
would send for Caesar.

The Mr. Ealings at the bank
have tried throughout history...

to stay the march
of civilization.

Why can't they understand? It should
be obvious to the meanest intelligence.

Franco's army comprises the best
elements of Spain and her supporters.

They are committed
to heroic action.

You little girls are living
in a time that will demand...

all that you have to give
of courage and gallantry.

You must become heroines.
Heroines!

Do you mean we will have to
march and shoot guns?

If you are called.

Girls?

Have you never heard
of Hannah Snell?

She was an English girl born in 1723
and sailed in Admiral Boscawen's fleet.

And fought at Araapong.
She was wounded.

But without medical aid, she extracted
the bullet from her own shoulder...

and lived to serve again.

Hannah Snell was a girl.

- Ooh!
- Now, you, too, must be prepared...

to serve, suffer and sacrifice.

- Are you prepared?
- Yes, Miss Brodie.

Yes, Miss Brodie.

No, Miss Brodie.

But she could get shot.

Without medical aid, she would extract
the bullet from her own shoulder...

and live to serve again.

It isn't funny.
She could really get hurt.

- What's going on? Who could get hurt?
- Mary McGregor.

She's run away to Spain
to fight.

- What kind of joke is this?
- It isn't a joke.

She's really gone to Spain.

Mary McGregor couldn't negotiate
her way across Edinburgh.

- Ah, but she has a guiding spirit.
- What are you talking about?

I'm sure Miss Brodie gave Mary
very explicit directions.

The Paris train will take you
as far as Perpignan.

P-E-R-P-I-G-N-A-N.

Now, the pounds are
in this envelope marked "pounds".

And the francs are
in this envelope marked "rancs".

And the pesetas are
in this envelope marked "pesetas".

How else?

- I don't believe it.
- Nor do I.

Miss Brodie will be frantic.

Miss Brodie will be ecstatic.

Moving your troops to Barcelona?

Mary McGregor has gone
to join her brother.

He is her only kin.

Yes, I heard you've been
raising funds for Franco.

I find that extraordinary.

The times are extraordinary.

Miss Brodie!

Miss Brodie.!

Oh, Mary McGregor.

Girls, I have
called you together...

my special girls...

to tell you the truth
about Mary McGregor.

Miss Mackay has told you
the facts about Mary's death...

how the train was bombed and machine-gunned
as it crossed the frontier...

but only I
can tell you the truth.

Mary McGregor died a heroine.

It was her intention
to fight for Franco...

against the forces of darkness.

So although she was killed before
she herself could strike a blow...

her intention
was a noble and heroic one.

Had she lived...

Mary would have become a woman
of great spirit and initiative.

Hers would have been
a dedicated life.

You must all grow up
to be dedicated women...

as Mary McGregor dedicated
her youth to a cause...

as I have dedicated
myself to you.

Tonight, little girls...

let your imaginations soar.

Think of Joan of Arc...

Florence Nightingale.

Think of Mary McGregor.

Who among you has
the makings of a heroine?

Yes, Clara?

May we think of you,
Miss Brodie?

Well, why not?

Deep in most of us
is a potential for greatness...

or the potential
to inspire greatness.

The day draws late.
Your families will be expecting you.

Take home the story
of Mary McGregor.

Sandy?

I thought you and I
might have tea together.

I wanted
to talk to you about Mary.

I'm sorry,
but I have some work to do.

How busy and grown-up you've become.

Well, I won't try to stop you, but you must
remember how much I do depend on you.

I'll remember.

♪ Somebody's crying

♪ Do you wonder who

♪ Tears that would fill up

♪ An ocean or two

♪ He's too unhappy
to even feel blue

♪ Somebody's crying for you

♪ Somebody's crying

Pay him no mind

He's just a someone

That you left behind

Although it could be

And you'll never see

That somebody crying is me

Yesterday's lover

Like yesterday's dream

Lost like a flower

That floats down the stream

- Mr. Lloyd?
- Yes, I should think so.

♪ Only the sorrow

♪ Somebody's crying for you

- Would you like to dance, Sandy?
- No, thank you.

I thought it was considered
a triumph of the first magnitude...

to be asked to dance
by a male staff member.

Excuse me.

- Mr. Lloyd said I could have my portrait done.
- Monica.

- Oh, thank you, Sandy.
- All right.

♪ Somebody's crying

♪ Do you wonder who

♪ Tears that would
fill up

♪ An ocean or two

♪ You know how I feel

♪ For sadly, but true

♪ That somebody crying is you

Would you like
some punch, Miss Brodie?

Oh, Mr. Lloyd.
Thank you.

That's very thoughtful of you.

Well, Jean,
how's the Franco fund coming along?

Mm! Not well.
Popular sentiment being what it is...

one can hardly plead the cause
in the Marcia Blaine assembly hall.

Yes, I dare say. I, too, am attempting
to raise funds for a worthy cause.

You? What sort of cause?

A romantic one. I am taking up
a collection to buy a wedding present...

for Lowther and Miss Lockhart.

May I put you down for a pound?

It's to be a simple affair in Cramond Kirk
a week on Saturday.

I'm told when they announced
their intention to Miss Mackay last evening...

her delight was so profound that she ran amok
and toasted them in neat whiskey.

- Ah, Miss Brodie.
- Oh, good evening, Mr. Burrage, girls.

- Good evening, Miss Brodie.
- I've not seen you dancing yet.

Oh, the night
is young, Mr. Burrage.

Excuse me for one moment.

Teddy... Teddy, who told you
to come to me like that?

I volunteered. "I", said the sparrow,
"with my bow and arrow".

- I volunteered.
- And what kill, pray, did you expect to make?

Do you think I cannot,
with one snap of my fingers...

send poor Miss Lockhart
back to her gaseous domain?

It was I who
encouraged Mr. Lowther...

in his reluctant
pursuit of Miss Lockhart.

What I cannot understand is you.
I cannot understand you.

Malice.
Coming to me that way...

hoping to hurt
and humiliate me, why?

I don't know.
It's what I wanted, to hurt you.

Why? Why are you
so angry with me?

Because I'm afraid.
Because I don't feel safe with you around.

You should have married old Lowther,
you really should.

I'm 43 years old, Jean.
How old are you?

- I'm f... I'm in my prime.
- Your prime!

Look at yourself, Jean.

Look at me...
a second-rate painter running to seed.

- You're not in your prime, Jean.
- Teddy, don't...

You're a frustrated spinster taking it out
in idiot causes and dangerous ideas.

- A schoolmarm.
- I am a teacher.

A teacher or a leader?

The dangerous Miss Brodie
and her troops.

Well, where you lead
I cannot follow.

Arrivederci.

- Mr. Burrage, will you dance?
- Yes. Yes. Delighted.

Thank you so much.

Miss Mackay...

since you were first appointed
headmistress of Marcia Blaine...

you have done nothing but try
to dismiss me from the teaching staff.

You have tried
every feeble excuse...

even that of immorality,
and failed.

Now you are accusing me
of preaching politics to my pupils.

Such a continuous
personal vendetta...

is hardly conducive
to the dignity of your position.

Miss Brodie, I don't think
you quite understand.

Let me make the situation
perfectly clear.

It is not I,
but the board of governors...

who have pursued this investigation
to its conclusion.

And it is
the board of governors who...

after having given due consideration
to the grave charges laid against you...

have given instructions that you leave
this school immediately...

and that your classes be taken over
tomorrow morning by another teacher.

The board have asked me
to convey to you the fact that...

your salary will be paid in full
until the end of the term...

which, in the circumstances,
is more than generous.

Miss Brodie,
there is nothing more to be said.

I shall not accept
the board's action.

I shall petition. I shall put
the question before the public...

before the parents
and the student body.

You will find, Miss Mackay,
that I have the loyalty of my girls.

Do you, Miss Brodie?

♪ For they are jolly good fellows

♪ Which nobody can deny.

Come, now, Lowther, give us a song.!

Why, Miss Brodie,
aren't you coming to the common room?

- Common room?
- The celebration honoring Miss Lockhart and Mr. Lowther.

My love is like a red, red rose

Aren't you coming, Miss Brodie?

I'll...
I'll be there shortly.

♪ In June

Oh, my love is like a melody

That's sweetly played in tune

As fair art thou my bonny lass

So deep in love am I

And I will love
thee still, my dear

Sandy.

Sandy.

I believe, Sandy...

I believe I am past my prime.

I had reckoned
on my prime lasting...

till I was
at least... 50.

Are you listening, Sandy?

I'm listening, Miss Brodie.

I have been dismissed
from Marcia Blaine.

I am accused of teaching
treason and sedition to my students.

I am being transported
for radicalism...

like Thomas Muir of Huntershill.

But if Miss Mackay
and her conspirators...

expect that I shall meekly lay my head
on their chopping block...

- they're in for a wee surprise.
- What will you do?

As I informed Miss Mackay,
I will resort to public petition.

I have no doubt that many supporters
will rally to my defense.

My students are loyal.

My girls.

Someone betrayed me, Sandy.
Someone spoke against me to the board.

Who could it
have been? Who?

Are you thinking that
maybe one of your girls betrayed you?

I said to Miss Mackay...

"I have the loyalty of my girls,

and she said,
"Do you?"

I'll not believe it. I'll not believe
it was one of my girls.

Perhaps it's true.

I thought possibly Monica.
There's very little soul...

- Monica is a loyal girl.
- I know. You all are.

Monica and Jenny.
Oh, not Jenny.

She's like a part of myself.

You, Sandy... As you see,
you are exempt from all suspicion.

You have had more
of my confidence than anyone.

You know more than anyone
what I have sacrificed for my girls.

Teddy Lloyd was greatly
in love with me, Sandy...

as I think you've always known.

And I gave him up to consecrate
my life to the young girls in my care...

you and Monica and Jenny.

Jenny...

She and Mr. Lloyd
will soon be lovers.

- I have that.
- Do you think that you are Providence?

That you can ordain love?

What?

You haven't pulled it off.

Jenny will not be
Teddy Lloyd's lover.

What are you saying, Sandy?

Jenny will not be
Teddy Lloyd's lover...

and I'll not be your spy,
your secret service.

My spy? What on earth
are you talking about?

Do you understand at all
what has happened to me?

I have been dismissed
from Marcia Blaine!

Why are you standing there talking
about Providence and the secret service?

What is the matter with you?

Miss Brodie, I am Teddy's lover.

What?

I am Teddy's lover.

Teddy's lover? You?

Is that so difficult to believe?

What does it matter to you which one of us it is?
It doesn't matter to Teddy.

Whatever possessed you?
You know his religion.

How could a girl
with a mind of her own...

have to do with a man
who can't think for himself?

That doesn't seem
to have bothered either of us, does it?

We were neither of us
very interested in his mind.

How dare you speak to me
in this manner!

I suppose I've always known that one day
you were going to ask how dare I?

Why? I don't understand.

I don't seem to understand
what has happened to everyone.

Where has everyone gone?

Only Mary is gone.

Mary? What has Mary
to do with it?

Miss Brodie,
Mary McGregor is dead!

Are you aware of
the order of importance...

in which you place
your anxieties?

One, you have been betrayed.

Two, who is or is not to be your proxy
in Teddy Lloyd's bed...

and three, Mary's death.

Miss Brodie, aren't you concerned
at all with Mary's death?

I grieve for Mary.

It was because of you she went!

Because of me?
It was her brother.

The poor, unfortunate girl
hadn't anyone else in the world.

She had you.
That was her misfortune.

To please you, that silly, stupid girl
ran off and got herself killed!

Don't you feel
responsible for that?

No.

No, I feel responsible
for giving her ideals...

The ideals that
sent her to Spain.

I feel responsible for teaching her
that service to a cause is a privilege.

You call it a privilege
to be killed?

And for nothing.
Nothing!

You really are
a shallow girl, Sandy.

By the way she died,
Mary McGregor illumined her life.

- She died a heroine.
- She died a fool!

Joining her brother to fight for Franco...
wasn't that just like Mary?

Her brother is fighting
for the other side.

- Her brother...
- Her brother is fighting for the Republicans!

Mary was headed
for the wrong army!

Oh, Mary McGregor!

"Mary McGregor".

I used to wonder why
you always called Mary by her full name.

I think it was because you had
such a hard time remembering who she was.

Poor, dim Mary.

I was devoted to Mary.

No, you were only attracted to Mary
because she had no one else...

and she was
so totally suggestible.

She appealed to your vanity!

It was you who betrayed me.

I didn't betray you!

I simply put a stop to you!

Oh, I see.

No, you don't see.

You don't see that
you're not good for people.

In what way?

In what way, Sandy,
was I not good for you?

You are dangerous
and unwholesome...

and children should not
be exposed to you!

How can you think it?

How can you think
that I would harm you?

- But you have... You have harmed me!
- How?

You have murdered Mary!

You have assassinated me!

Oh, why must you
always strike attitudes?

You really are
a ridiculous woman!

What will you do... now?

Do?

I don't know.

But I am a descendant,
do not forget...

of Willie Brodie.

He was a man of substance...

A cabinetmaker
and a designer of gibbets...

a member of the town council
of Edinburgh...

the keeper of two mistresses
who bore him five children between them.

Blood tells.
He played much dice and fighting cocks.

Eventually, he was a wanted man
for having robbed the excise office.

Not that he needed the money.

He was a burglar
for the sake of the danger.

He died cheerfully
on a gibbet of his own devising in 1788.

That is the stuff I am made of.

I knew you would rise
like a phoenix.

I'm glad I shall not
have to worry about you.

No, I expect that
is to be your gift, Sandy...

to kill without concern.

It is you who are dangerous.

You see yourself as a conqueror,
don't you, Sandy?

Kaiserian in all
his beauty rare.

But you profess to be
a great admirer of conquerors.

Good-bye, Miss Brodie.

Assassin!

Assassin!

♪ Lord, dismiss us
with Thy blessing

♪ Thanks for mercies
past receive

♪ Pardon all
their faults confessing

♪ Time that's lost
may all retrieve

♪ May thy children
May thy children

♪ Never again
Thy spirit grieve

Today we say good-bye
to those senior girls...

who are leaving
Marcia Blaine for the last time.

You girls are about
to take your place...

in a larger,
more demanding world.

In this world, you will be called upon
to make many moral decisions...

affecting not only
your own lives...

but the lives of your families,
your friends, your acquaintances.

We are confident,
truly confident...

that the training you have received
here in this school...

will have equipped you to face life's quandaries
with courage and character.

For here at Marcia Blaine...

we have done our best
to nurture the virtuous woman...

for her price
is far above rubies.

Let us pray.

Little girls...

I am in the business
of putting old heads on young shoulders...

and all my pupils
are the crème de la crème.

Give me a girl
at an impressionable age...

and she is mine for life.

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