All language subtitles for [English] De Vlaschaard - Full Movie [DownSub.com]

Just look at that.

It's been five months now
and nothing but mud.

Enough to wear anyone's patience thin.

Twelve summery days in March.

One minute of sunshine
and five days of rain.

You have to burn your legs
to warm your behind.

You're freezing in your own home.

And bored stiff.

And it's slowly getting
wetter and wetter.

What are you fretting about now?

Seasons take their time.

Last year we had a nice wind
by this time.

The flax had already been sown.

What can you do about it?

Just look at it.

Damn mist.

I've never heard of it being summer
at this time of year.

I know.

But this year ...
– You say that every year.

Every year you get all agitated
and hot under the collar.

But what's the use?
– Five damn months already.

A cup of coffee?
– Yes, that'll warm me up.

I reckon
Saturn is in the wrong position.

Nothing good can come of that.
– Saturn.

It says so in my old almanac.
It's never been wrong.

And how long does your almanac
say it's going to last?

Man proposes, God disposes.

Have you just come from my field?
– Yes.

And?

There's nothing left of all
our harrowing and ploughing. Just mud.

Louis! Louis!
– Yes, Father?

Shouldn't you see to the horses?
– We've done that already.

What is that? Can't you hear it?
That nut's loose. Can't you hear it?

You're good at breaking the tools,
aren't you?

If you cut your fingers off in a minute
I suppose that'll be my fault.

In this weather
it's him that's got something loose.

Father, where are we going to sow
the flax this year?

Why are you talking about sowing?
The flax seed is fine where it is.

It's not too early to talk about it.

In this weather
you might as well throw it in the river.

What do you think, Bert?
Where should we sow the flax?

Yes, Bert, tell us what you think.

Both are fine flax fields,
both the lower one and the upper one.

Yes, and one has light soil
and the other heavy.

I think ...
I'd use the upper one.

Well–fertilized flax
is better dry than wet.

The flax there in that field of clay?
Never.

What a ridiculous idea.
What about the wind?

We'll see.

Damn. Damn.

Today, dearly beloved,
it is like it was twenty centuries ago

when Jesus was here on earth.

Good and evil, these two extremes,
are to be found in us all

and we must decide which wins.

Because that is a battle
that we have to fight every day.

Like the sun on your field
must fight the black clouds.

And, incidentally, it would seem we can
expect better weather this week.

We should thank Our Lord for this.

And say to Him, 'Dear Lord, that nice
weather of yours is none too early,

but better late than never.

We thank You, Our Lord.
Amen.'

Hello, Vandegimste.
– Vermeulen.

Are you going to start?

I don't feel like waiting any longer.

It seems to be drying out.
– Drying out? Nonsense.

I'm going to try it anyway.

The earlier you sow flax,
the less the risk of it blowing over.

God will reward you, Vandegimste.
You're just like St. Francis.

He also threw his seed to the birds.

We'll see.

Olga.

Olga.

What did you think of the lower field?
– What's the matter with it?

Don't you think it's time
to plough that field, Father?

Then the flax is sown within the week.

Fetch that load of beets
for the cowshed.

And tell Poortere to spread the manure
over the field.

Louis, you've been reading for more
than an hour. That's bad for your eyes.

Mother ...

I'm not being funny but
your husband is a strange man.

I talk to him about the lower field,
that that would be the best flax field,

and he pretends he doesn't hear me.

That's how he is. He won't change now.

And he's always so abrupt with me.
He always thinks he knows best,

as if no one else can say
anything sensible.

Don't take any notice.
Father is just old–fashioned.

That's not necessarily a bad thing.
And besides, he's the boss.

He can stay the boss,
but he doesn't have to goad me.

That's just his way.

He bottles everything up.
He finds it difficult to talk.

He's always been like that,
even when he was young.

I can't imagine him
ever having been young.

Well he was.

Louis,
instead of ruining your eyes reading ...

Why don't you go to the village
for a beer?

A young lad like you ...

All you do is read.

Is it too hot?
– It's OK.

What's the matter?

Where are you going to sow the flax?
I don't want to interfere ...

You always agree with Louis.

Whatever he says it's the gospel truth.

So why did we spend all that money
on those drainpipes?

To sow oats, not flax.
– Are you sure?

A farmer who doesn't know
where to sow what,

doesn't know the value of flax.

Fine, it's up to you.

It's the seed
that's arrived from Russia.

Jan, horse and cart.

My black jacket.

Father,
when are we going to start sowing?

Tomorrow. OK?
– Yes, of course that's OK.

You're a strange man, Vermeulen.

We think you can't decide

and it's just because
you were waiting for the delivery.

Do I have to tell you everything?

Father, where are we going to sow?

Where? In the upper field, of course.
Where else?

Ivo, we're going to start.

Jan, where are you?

Go on, Ivo.
Giddy–up, Max. Giddy–up.

Giddy–up, Olga.

Giddy–up, Max.

We've done a good job, eh?
– Certainly have.

It's as smooth as a millpond.

I spy a young filly.
– Are you blind, or what?

No. And I think it's young filly
that hasn't been tamed yet.

Eat.
You're better at working than talking.

I haven't got a spoon.

Well, Ivo, you're so quiet. You've
normally got a lot to say for yourself.

He's worn out.
– Hey, she can talk.

Men today aren't equal to much.

One day out in the field and look at
them sitting there like sacks of straw.

We worked all day in the field, too,

but we could dance until midnight,
eh Fietje ?

Until tomorrow morning if we had to.

What about you, Louis?
– What?

If we were to ask you nicely,
would you come dancing?

With you, maybe.

It's like seeing myself.

It's only two years ago
that I did the sowing.

My feet can't take it anymore.
– It happens so fast.

The rest is fine.

It's in, Father.

Sobrie's is the best of the lot.

And Vermeulen's ...
– A total failure.

He'll have to sow beet
in his flax field.

It's a kick in the teeth
for being pretentious.

I suppose they think I don't know
what they say behind my back?

Verroken didn't do very well
with his chemicals, either.

Verschaeve's crop is the finest,
nice and thick.

I think ours is sown too sparsely.

Mother,
I know how much seed was sown.

It's not too sparse. It's too wet.

The water can't get through.
The seed rots in hard soil.

Idiots. Why are you talking about
the condition of the crop now already?

Know–alls.

Barbele?
– Yes.

Did you light it?
– Yes.

Then we should hurry.

We've got to be back
before the candle has gone out.

You're grinding your teeth like some
old devil. You'll end up breaking them.

Christ.

It's alive.

It's alive.

It's resting.

But it will shoot.

It's alive.

It started to improve

after I lit some candles
for St. Benedict.

So Benedict did it.

It may become a field of flax,
but it won't be fine–looking flax.

Who says so?
– Me.

And why not?
– It's full of bare patches.

They will fill up. Within a month
it'll be completely covered.

Vandegimste's and Sobrie's fields
are flax fields.

Admit it,
this year we're bringing up the rear.

Fool. Stick to your housekeeping.

Go and scheme some more
with your wonderful son.

You'd like him to take my place,
but that's not going to happen.

It's coming.

Quiet!

They had to go to boarding school
to learn to speak French.

And see what you get back.

They're too pretentious
to speak Flemish anymore.

Father, what's that smell?

Make sure that there's a baron waiting
when they've finished playing.

And what do they learn from the nuns?
How to fiddle with bows and ribbons.

And put on airs.

Father, those sheep are far too hot.

I'll be glad
when their Easter holiday is over.

So what do you want?

For your children to be without
any decorum or an education?

You're fifty years out of date.
– You're fifty years ahead of yours.

Why can't they help here,
do some work, damn them?

Like we have always done.

Listen, it's simple. You can do what
you want with Louis, he's your son.

But leave the girls alone,
they're mine.

Put them under a glass dome
between two candlesticks.

Hey, Schellebelle, save a place for me.

Who wants an egg? Eat plenty,
there's a lot of work to do.

Have a sandwich.
Who wants another egg?

Not coffee, Sofie.
That girl should still be drinking milk.

Don't take any notice.
I never liked it either.

I say, Fietje ... Fietje? Maybe you'd
have been better off not drinking milk.

Come on, Schellebelle, hurry up.

Is that your real name, Schellebelle?

Yes ... No, not really.

What is your name then?
– My name's Honorine.

But they always call me Schellebelle.
– Why?

I don't know.

Well, well, have you come to help?

Louis couldn't stand it any more
amongst all those women.

It's a lot for a man on his own.
– What do you mean?

I'm sure that Louis has already
set his heart on someone, eh brother?

Stop prattling on.
– You have. I can see it in your eyes.

Who is it?
Still that redhead, Lea van Evergem?

Louise, I was fifteen.
– Young love never dies.

Who is it now?
Is she blonde or brunette?

Where does she live?
– I don't know.

He doesn't know. You poor thing,
how can you see her then?

Where's Louis?

Probably chasing some girl or other
again.

He's awful, isn't he?
What a woman–chaser.

Any girl in love with him
would be very unhappy.

Yes, true. Very unhappy.

Please, Netje.
– One more.

Go on then, one more.

Well, my father was a poacher.

Once he went prowling around
down by the water.

Because he knew
there was an otter there.

One night, when he was
on the otter's track, he suddenly heard

plonk, plonk, plonk.

And what did he see?
It upset him for weeks afterwards.

What was it, Netje ?
– Something with big legs,

that came closer and closer.

It was smaller than a donkey.

But bigger than a dog.

And it came right up close to him.

It stank to high heaven.

And it flopped into the water.
– What was it Netje? Tell us.

Later my father heard that
that was the spot where

the werewolf was usually to be found.

That's what happened.

And what about that young girl
who had to stay home alone?

Do you know that one?
– No, tell us, Tale.

She had to stay home alone,
that young girl.

And one day
a man comes to the door.

He looked like an honest man.

And he says, "Little girl,
could I have a hair from your head?"

But that young girl
wasn't born yesterday.

She said, "Yes, here you are."

But she'd quickly pulled a bristle
out of the broom.

"Thank you," says the man.
"You're a good girl."

And he leaves.

And he'd only just gone ...
– Yes, what ...?

When the broom in the corner
started jumping around and dancing

and it danced out of the door.

Is your Jan Smisse coming Sunday?

If his mother will let him.
But I said to him,

"Jan, you have to choose.
It's either me or your mother."

How long will you be tied
to her apron strings?

He thought for a while and said,

"Marta, you're right. I'd rather be tied
to your apron strings."

If he doesn't come Sunday
I'll look for someone else.

Marta!

Did you know
how pretty you've become?

Wait a moment, lads.

What are they talking about?

They've got the giggles.

Probably about boys.
– Do you think so?

Schellebelle is turning into
a good–looker.

An apple ripe for plucking.

I wouldn't mind holding her tight,
one of these days.

Come on, get on with your work.
– What's the matter with you?

Nothing.
I just haven't got time for such drivel.

You're just like your father.
– What?

What I just said.

Shut up and get on with it.

Hey, Ivo ...

Hey Ivo, coming for a beer later?
– Yes.

But somewhere that's not suitable
for lovesick farmers' sons.

Why not?

Can't you keep up, Sara?

Here you are.

Hey, you're not scared of me?
– Me? No.

If you came more often you'd know
you didn't need to be sacred.

The only thing I do is eat you whole.

Where have you been hiding,
handsome?

Next time you come,
I'll show you paradise on earth.

Louis, don't you think
it's a bit dry here?

It's your round.

Yes, of course.

For the boss's son he's not bad.

I've got to go to home.

It's late.
– It's not.

They're expecting me home.
– Killjoy.

You can say that again.
– Come again, handsome.

Definitely, next week.
– I can't wait that long.

Move. Move.

Have you brought good news?
– Hello, Legijn.

What did I hear recently in the village?

Are you planning to sell the farm?

They say a lot of things.

But if I were to get a good price,
I'd think about it.

We starting to get old, Vermeulen.

I've got sciatica.
– You're still strong, Legijn.

Yes, I am.

And who'll buy it?
Some modern lout or other.

We've worked hard for long enough.

Why can someone else retire
but not us?

A farmer who retires dies.

What will you do all day?
– Well ...

What will I do?
– There's a house for sale in the village.

Sitting around waiting to die
is idiotic.

Buying meat, butter, eggs in a shop.
Come on!

Incidentally, how much
do you think you'll get for your farm?

What will we get for it?
– We're going to auction it.

Yes, auction it.

It's strange.

Every time I come in here to do
the accounts, you come in to clean.

What sort of account?

I think
our money is just lying around in it.

It's growing.
– It could make more.

With the notary?

Apparently
Legijn wants to sell his farm.

And?

You're not going to buy that farm!

It's a good farm.
– It's run–down.

Anyway, what do we want it for?

Isn't it time Louis settled down
and we set him up?

That farm ...
– Isn't he going to take over here?

On our own farm.

We'll talk about it another time.
It's just an idea.

Just an idea.

I didn't half enjoy that beer.
– So did I.

I could do with another two.

Nice, eh Poortere?

Yes, it's going to stay like this
for another couple of days.

After that it may rain.

I meant the fields are nice to look at.

I don't understand
why people keep slaving away.

There, Slieders, for example.

He's bent right over and owns
six or seven houses in the village.

What else would he do?
– Enjoy life, damn it.

It's always been like that.
It always will be.

Do you think so?

Who are you having a wash for?
– Who do you think?

I'll give you three guesses.

For Oktaaf?
– Wrong.

For Ivo?
– Wrong. One more go. Do your best.

For me?
– You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Gerard, our oldest,
was sniggling for eels one day.

He threw his hook into the mud
and couldn't get it out again.

He pulls and pulls,
for more than an hour.

And suddenly, covered in sweat,
he pulls it out.

And what does he see?

What's hanging on his hook?

A dead body.

The remains of a dead soldier
from the war.

He must've got a fright.

In the morning he comes home.

I say,
"Gerard, what's that on your head?"

"What, Mother?" he says.

And he feels the top of his head.

All his hair had fallen out.

It only started growing again
six years later.

When he was married.

Go on, you fat animal.
Get out of the way, stinker.

What's up, Sofie? Are you cross?
– Yes, cross and sad.

Why?
– You should restrain yourself.

I've been watching you for a while.
I've seen you hanging around Louis.

Believe me, no good will come of it.
– But Sofie, I'm not doing any harm.

Maybe not,
but people always think the worst.

They say you're hoping
to marry a farmer's son.

Who says that?
– Doesn't matter.

If Vermeulen were to hear it
you'd be thrown out immediately.

Trees was.

Louis is a tease. He'll turn your head
and then laugh at you.

That's not true. He won't laugh at me.

Have you got it that bad already?

I can't help it. It's not my fault.

The prices are terrible.
What are things coming to?

There's far too much flax.
– And such good flax.

Haven't had any like it for years.
– Has Verroken sold his?

His is looking good,
it's ten hands high.

He's still waiting for a better price.

The amount he's spent on chemicals!

Verschaeve and Sobrie
are the best two.

If Vermeulen's is left for another
14 days it'll be as fine as the rest.

Apparently Sobrie sold for 150.

It has grown poorly, Vermeulen.

But I'll give you a good price.
– As a favour to me, I suppose?

What about 110?

No, I'd rather leave it in the barn
for a couple of years.

It's up to you.
– 110?

I can't give it to you for that.

Damn, not this again, surely?

See, you are laughing.
– Not at you, silly.

Come on.

Don't take any notice of that witch.
We're not doing any harm.

Bye.

You've found a nice cool spot.

The baron says
that no one may pass without paying.

Give me a kiss.

Is that what you charge?
– Yes, you with the naughty eyes!

You must pay.

Careful, I'll spill it.

Careful.

What do you want with that hussy?

Do you always let women do that?

If I see you with that slut again,
I throw you out. Understand?

Sofie.

I'm going to buy Legijn's farm.
– What?

Have you gone deaf? I'm going
to buy Legijn's farm for Louis.

But ...

But why? Does he want to leave?
No.

And we're fine here together.

We're getting gold. And when we can't
manage anymore who's going to ...

Louis is old enough for his own place.

He's so mad about women
that he doesn't know how to behave.

Women?
– He's got to get married.

I'll buy him a farm.
You provide a decent woman

before there's a scandal.
– But ...

Are you blind, woman?
He needs a serious relationship.

Otherwise
he'll end up with that milkmaid.

Dear God, Schellebelle ?
– I saw them myself,

how he was kissing and cuddling with
that strumpet. I've caught them twice.

Louis.

I can't stand it here any longer
with that husband of yours.

He's not human.
He always disapproves.

Calm down, lad.

What is it with you and your father?

You always make him snap like a dog.
– He is a dog.

I can't do anything right.
– What about Schellebelle?

It's nothing.
I was just teasing her, that's all.

You know you can tell me everything.

I think I love Schelle,

but nothing is going on between us
that shouldn't.

I understand, lad. You're young.

But Father doesn't understand that.

He doesn't like fun. Use your head.

Give him what he wants.

He wants to be boss. Let him.

It's best for you.

Vermeulen, you've got it wrong.

Louis isn't think about
kissing and cuddling.

That game with Schellebelle
is a young lads' thing.

They just act a bit silly, that's all.
– I never acted as silly as that

No, you didn't. True.

And whose fault was that? Yours?

Or your father's, who thought I and
everyone else wasn't good enough?

Who didn't call women milkmaids
but cows.

Just say that you can't stand Louis,
that you want him to go.

Even though we need him here.

Where are the farmers who are able
to set up their son like that?

So you're doing it to show
all the others how rich we are.

Old nag.

And when he's gone?
What will you do then?

We'll be without a man in the family.

Two bosses is one too many.
– But he doesn't act the boss.

Listen,
I've given in to you all your life,

but if you continue to be stubborn
and make his life a misery,

I'll leave with him
and you can run the farm on your own.

Fine, and take your two
nagging daughters with you, too.

You've always been a brute,
treated me like your maid.

No better than Schellebelle.

Since we've been married
you haven't said my name once.

Vermeulen, we've had our time.
It's the children's turn now.

Everyone has his turn in life.

And it's a comfort
that your own family takes your place.

As long as I can still move,
no one is taking my place.

We'll see.

Is the farmer's flax field ripe?
– Yes.

Are we going to pull his flax?
– Yes.

Well girls, tell your farmer to hurry up
and pull his flax.

Mind your own business, drunkard.
– What a rude bitch!

What about you, girl?
Have you got such a rude tongue?

Here, have some sugar gin.
– Will you get off our land, and fast?

Beat it!
– We're celebrating pulling.

Celebrate on your own land.
– Refusing sugar gin.

What is the world coming to?

Fancy talking to such riffraff.
– I wanted to try that gin.

It's supposed to be good.
– It'll come soon enough.

And we celebrate with good gin.
Balegem gin.

And we'll need it,
because it'll be winter by then.

Why do you always have to interfere?

If we get some more rain
it'll grow another hand.

And if that rain flattens it?
Flax isn't corn.

Why are you always so cussed,
woman?

Damn.

Are there any clouds?

No. If it doesn't come tonight, it can
carry on like this for another five days.

I don't trust that peacock.
– Aren't there any thunderflies?

No.

What do you think, Poortere ?

The stars are there
but the wind has changed.

It may be for tonight but if it doesn't
rain it can carry on like this for days.

Shouldn't we pull it quickly?

Yes.

Schellebelle, go to Sobrie
and ask for people for tomorrow.

I'm going. Should everyone come?
– Everyone.

But at three o'clock in the morning.

Should I say that you asked?

Yes, say that.

We're going to have a storm.
This won't last another three days.

What's this?
Sir can forecast the weather now.

Is there going to be a storm or not?
Shouldn't we pull tomorrow?

Of course we're pulling tomorrow.
What did Poortere ask you?

Poortere? Nothing.

Have you already got pullers?
– Yes.

It's going to be hard going.

Wet from the dew in the morning,
then from sweating,

then wet from the rain in the evening.
– Rain?

It's not allowed to rain.
I, Louis Vermeulen, order it.

No rain.

You're not scared of a bit of thunder!
Get on with it.

Louis, come back.

Louis, don't stand there. You're mad.

The farmer says
you should all come to the farm.

Tell him we're nice and dry here.

Leave them alone!

How's the flax field?
– Rather flat.

Rather.

How much is left, Vermeulen?
– It's been flattened.

And how much does it cost flattened?

Hundred.
– No, that's too much.

Take it or leave it.

Agreed, if it's delivered green.
– That's no way to do a deal.

The flax is lying there.
If you want it, then buy it as it is.

In that case I'll give you seventy.
– Ninety.

It will be difficult to pull.
The risk is too high.

Seventy.

Good luck with it.

Be quiet.

Be quiet.

Tell the pullers to set the flax
they've pulled up in stocks,

but they have to be gone by noon

and only have to come back
when I say. Understand?

Where's he going in his best suit?

To a sale.

If he stayed away for two days
the flax would be pulled.

Are you going to pull it?

Do you think I read books for fun?

If it dries flat it breaks when pulled.

It has to be set up in stocks
by this evening.

Is Vermeulen's flax field ripe?
– Yes.

Are we going to pull his flax?
– Yes.

Eight people down there
to set the stocks upright again.

Three people next to me and the others
can collect the flax that's blown away.

3,800.

3,900.

4,000.

No one else?

4,000 francs. Once.

4,500.

Who'll bid more than 4,500 francs?

No one?

Mr de Keersmaker from Brussels.

And now, gentlemen,
we're going to combine the lots.

Approximately sixty hectares
with the farm and all its buildings.

I've got 48,000 francs.

Who'll bid more?

Who'll start?

50,000.

We've started.

Who'll bid more than 50,000 francs?

No one?

For that fine farm with all
its buildings in good condition.

No one?

I've no desire to spend the night here.

You'd catch lice, notary.

Come on, be serious.

Who'll bid more?

No one?

Once.

Twice.

Sold.

Cheers.

Vermeulen has all the luck.

You should have bid yourself.
– No, that's beyond me.

I've got more than enough
with what I've already got.

I only came to watch.
– Vermeulen, cheers.

Here's to you and your children.

Well put! Soon you'll be able
to open another bottle.

I bought the farm for Louis.
– For Louis?

Why?
– He's getting married soon.

Married? Who to?
– Who to?

You'll hear soon enough.

Look, the sun's come out again.

The weather has changed.

No, Vermeulen, that's not possible.
They left ages ago.

Damn.

4 o'clock. That's not possible.
I said ...

They will damn well ...

Who told you to pull the flax?
Who?

You're trying to make a fool of me!

Get out of here. Get off my field.

Get out of here.
All of you, get out of here.

Wet cloths. Quick, make cloths wet.

Turn him over, he can't get any air.

Here you are.

Sofie, Sofie.

The doctor says he's on his way.

Where will we get them, doctor?

What's happened now?

Go to bed, Barbele.
There's nothing you can do.

Louis?

Louis.

No change, doctor.

Let's take a look.

Vermeulen.

Vermeulen.

You ought to leave the room for a bit.
You have to eat or you'll be ill.

No.

The workers can't decide what to do
themselves.

Ask Vermeulen, Poortere.

They've ...

They've sent me to ask ...

... the workers, to ask

what they should do today.

It's been drying for a number of days.

Shouldn't we carry on with the flax?

Poortere.

I can't leave here.

Just carry on.

It's all the same to me.

I don't know.

I've got to stay here.

Barbele.

Barbele.

Translated by Christine Le Piez
The Subtitling Company