Original subtitles

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

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

This is the sad tale of the township of Dogville.

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

up here where the road came to its definitive end

near the entrance to the old abandoned silver mine.

The residents of Dogville were good honest folks,

and they liked their township.

And while a sentimental soul from the East Coast

had once dubbed their main street Elm Street,

though no elm had ever cast its shadow in Dogville,

they saw no reason to change anything.

Most of the buildings were pretty wretched,

more like shacks, frankly.

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

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

That afternoon, the radio was playing softly

for in his dotage, Thomas Edison, Sr.

had developed a weakness for music of the lighter kind.

Ladies and gentlemen,

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

Tom, do me a favor, will you?

The radio?

Just 'cause the music's over

and you might risk hearing something useful?

I thought that's why we had the radio.

Well, I need to rest, as you know.

Mock me if you like.

Tom's father had been a doctor

and now received a modest pension.

So it was no great disaster for Tom to drift about

not doing anything in particular.

Tom was a writer...

at any rate, by his own rights.

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

"great" and "small,"

followed by a question mark,

but nevertheless meticulously archived

in one of his many bureau drawers.

Bye, Dad.

Evenin', Master Tom!

Evening, Master Olivia.

You don't forget about the meeting tomorrow.

No.

In order to postpone the time

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

Tom had now come up with a series of meetings

on moral rearmament,

with which he felt obliged to benefit the town.

- Hi, kids. - Hi, Tom.

Evening, Chuck.

Will we see you at the meeting tomorrow?

I could do without your lectures.

You know Vera...

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

Who gave Moses that bone?

It's still got meat on it.

Jason did.

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

When did we last see meat?

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

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

Moses is meant to be hungry! To keep watch.

Keep watch in Dogville?

What's there to steal?

These are wicked times, Tom Edison.

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

Indeed, Tom was busy enough,

even though, formally speaking,

not yet busy with writing per se.

And if a body found it hard to grasp

what profession he was busy at,

he'd merely reply, "mining."

For although he did not blast his way through rock,

he'd blasted through what was even harder--

namely, the human soul,

right into where it blistered.

- Hey, Martha. - Hello, Tom.

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

Yes, they're ready.

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

I got to get special permission from the regional director.

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

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

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

I imagine that'll do, Ma Ginger.

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

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

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

I'll hoe as I darn well please.

Yeah, and spoil the whole thing.

I agree with Tom.

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

They're tasty, no doubt about it.

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

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

He's got you there, Ginger.

You cannot resist, can you, Gloria?

Hey, Ben, I'll get the doors.

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

Is everything going to hell there too?

Don't poke fun at the freight industry.

It was 7:00 precisely

as Martha chimed the hour.

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

Bill was dumb and knew it.

Far too dumb to qualify as an engineer,

he was certainly sure of that.

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

that Ben insisted was working on the foundation

of a new penitentiary,

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

yet another humiliating defeat at checkers.

Some folks might say the opportunity

to meet Bill's older sister Liz

was more of a draw than the checkerboard.

And they might be right.

It was a fact that in the Henson home

lay another horizon,

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

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

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

- Hey, Liz. - Hey, Tom.

Must you come by every single day?

Hmm?

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

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

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

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

Is Bill in?

Well, isn't he always?

He studies and I help out with the glasses,

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

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

Checkers time, Bill ol' buddy!

What is that...?

You didn't hear the bell?

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

He had not yet fully comprehended

this meeting business, he claimed.

Maybe you should just let them be.

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

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

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

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

So the illustration for tomorrow...

I don't know.

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

what I really need is something for them to accept.

Something tangible, like a gift.

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

I don't know.

I'm gonna have to do some thinking.

Wait, wait, wait---

We're missing a piece.

We won't be able to play.

My mind is sharp tonight.

Night, Bill.

CHAPTER ONE in which Tom hears gunfire and meets Grace.

Despite considerable effort on his part to prolong things,

Tom had achieved the triumph of the checkerboard pretty quickly.

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

when Tom strolled home through Elm Street.

If Tom were to prove

that the citizens of Dogville had a problem receiving

in his lecture the next day,

he sorely lacked an illustration--

a gift.

Bill might have been right.

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

There was no doubt in his mind.

They were gunshots.

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

The shots had come from down in the valley,

or perhaps from Canyon Road,

someplace in the direction of Georgetown.

He listened for more shots for ages,

but they were not repeated.

A tad disappointed,

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

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

But it wasn't long before his thoughts

were back on his favorite subjects again.

And in the midst of the storm, they metamorphosed

into articles and novels,

and great gatherings that'd listen in silence to Tom

after the publication of yet another volume

that scourged and purged the human soul.

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

throw their arms around one another

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

It hadn't been easy.

But by his diligence and application to narrative and drama,

his message had gotten through.

And asked about his technique,

he would have to say but one word:

"Illustration."

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

but another unusual noise roused him.

It was Moses barking.

Oh, that wasn't unusual in itself,

but it was the way he barked that was new.

His barking was not loud,

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

and not merely a passing raccoon or fox,

as if the dog was standing face to face

with a force to be taken seriously.

Hey, lady!

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

I know the mountain well.

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

It's a very nasty drop.

Is there another way?

Yeah.

Where?

Back down the way you came from,

back down to Georgetown.

Why do you need to get up the mountain?

Did it have anything to do with those gunshots?

Help me! Help me, please.

Hide in the mine. In there.

Where is this road headed to?

Nowhere. It's a dead end.

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

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

- Dogville? - Yeah.

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

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

My boss wants to talk to you.

- Young man? - Yes, sir?

I'm looking for a girl.

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

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

She's very precious to me.

Well, sir...

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

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

That's very wise of Moses.

Please take my card...

and if perhaps you see a stranger,

then give me a call.

I am in a position to offer a considerable reward.

Yes, sir. Thank you.

Was it you that fired those shots?

Well, they're gone.

You want to come out now?

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

- Yeah? - That'd be nice.

The beautiful fugitive's name was Grace.

She hadn't chosen Dogville from a map

or sought out the township for a visit.

Yet Tom felt right away that she belonged.

Shall I take the bone?

She could have kept her vulnerability to herself,

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

as-- yes-- a gift.

"Generous,

very generous," thought Tom.

Do you want to eat?

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

I don't deserve that bread.

I stole that bone.

I'd never stolen anything before.

So now-- now I have to punish myself.

I was raised to be arrogant.

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

Well...

it may be best for your education...

but, Grace, in this town,

in these times...

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

I'm so sorry.

Who were the men in the car?

Why would they want to hurt you?

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

I saw his face.

He gave me his telephone number,

told me to call if I saw you.

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

if you told him where I was.

Yeah.

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

All I had was a father.

Those gangsters took him away from me.

What if I said you could stay here?

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

It's a very small town.

I have to hide. People will ask questions.

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

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

They're good people.

They're honest people.

They've all been in need themselves.

They might well turn you down, but...

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

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

No, I think you have plenty to offer Dogville.

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

in the mission house the next day "enthusiastic"

would have been going too far.

But they had come,

and Tom had launched himself fearlessly

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

The subject was obvious...

but quite dreadfully ill-considered by this young man.

To compensate for his lack of preparation,

Tom made diligent use of his technique of lashing out

somewhat haphazardly in all directions.

His father peered around covertly to gauge the mood,

and sensing that the assembly was not entirely happy

with his rather direct criticism,

he decided to forestall any protests.

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

But, of any town,

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

Living side by side, we all know one another.

I'm a pretty fair judge of character myself.

Honestly, Tom, you've done it again!

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

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

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

We shovel snow together.

- You shovel snow together? - Yeah.

Every household clears their own front walk!

I gotta allow that Tom's right on that.

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

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

The whole country would be better served

with a greater attitude of openness and acceptance.

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

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

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

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

let me illustrate.

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

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

And after providing a quick summary of the events

of the previous evening to the astonished people of Dogville,

Tom went down to the mine

to retrieve the fugitive from her hideaway.

Allow me to introduce Grace.

Grace, these are the...

citizens of Dogville.

- Hello. - Hello.

Tom has told us about your predicament, miss.

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

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

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

- In the transportation business-- - Ben!

These men, they have powerful connections...

even with the police.

You think we should give sanctuary to a fugitive?

A fugitive that gangsters want to get ahold of?

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

Easy, Claire, think of your asthma.

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

Exactly. The only way up here is Canyon Road.

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

who lives only yards from the turnoff.

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

tell the town if people were coming.

But, Tom, I chime the hours.

What if people get confused with all the ringing?

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

to save a life if need be.

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

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

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

Maybe these gangsters did shoot at her.

That don't make her somebody to be trusted.

He's right.

Why would you trust me?

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

We mind our own business.

We don't ask nothing from nobody.

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

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

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

There is a way. You said it yourself--

by living side by side with her.

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

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

A week?

Maybe two?

Surely we can offer her two weeks!

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

I promise I'll happily send her packing myself.

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

and for the community, then,

that'll do for me.

He might be young, but his heart is right.

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

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

But it had been decided, they all felt,

that the fugitive would be given two weeks.

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

and know that they had done what they could indeed,

and perhaps more than most people would have done.

So, that very afternoon,

Tom took Grace on a stroll down Elm Street

to introduce her to the town he loved.

Well, this is where...

Olivia and June live. June's a cripple.

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

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

Next door, we have the Hensons.

They make a living from grinding the edges off cheap glasses

to try and make them look expensive.

Moving on we have Jack McKay.

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

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

In the old stable, Ben keeps his truck.

He drinks, and he visits the whorehouse...

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

Martha, she runs the mission house

until the new preacher comes,

which will just never happen.

And that leaves Ma Ginger and Gloria.

They run this really expensive store

where they exploit the fact that nobody leaves town.

We used to leave to go vote,

but since they put in the registration fee--

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

Dogville didn't feel the democratic need anymore.

Those awful figurines say more about the people in this town

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

then you really have a strange way of showing it.

All I see is...

a beautiful little town in the midst of...

magnificent mountains.

A place where people have hopes and dreams...

even under the hardest conditions.

And seven figurines that are not awful at all.

Calling Dogville beautiful was original at least.

Grace was just casting one more look at the figurines

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

when she suddenly sensed

what would best have been described

as a tiny change of light over Dogville.

They're keeping an eye on you.

If you love them already,

they might need a little persuading.

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

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

Well, yes...

we are.

Isn't saving your life worth a little game?

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

No.

Dogville offered you two weeks.

Now you offer them.

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

The next day was a beautiful day in Dogville.

The tender leaves on Ma Ginger's gooseberry bushes

were unfurling despite wise Tom's misgivings

as regards her gardening methods.

But more than that,

this first day of spring

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

the day in which she was to set off around Dogville

and offer herself one hour per household per day.

Excuse me.

I'd like to offer you my help.

If there's anything that you need...

Yeah...

a carburetor that don't leak.

All right, here. Let me take that.

Maybe I could help around your home.

I don't really have a home, miss.

- Just the garage. - Oh.

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

I'm ready. Good morning.

Miss Olivia's got a home.

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

A cleaning lady for a cleaning lady?!

You be talking nonsense, Mr. Ben.

- Have a good day. - All right.

See you later on.

And off Ben went to Georgetown with the weekly shipment

of glasses that Mr. Henson had so laboriously cleansed

with his polisher of any trace of their cheap manufacture.

So Grace turned into the alley,

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

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

Yes?

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

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

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

I was thinking that perhaps because of...

the situation that you're in...

What situation am I in?

Ummm...

you're...

you're on... your own.

Oh...

I've been on my own for so long.

Anything that you might need?

I'm sorry.

Have you ever noticed the wooden spire

on the roof of the mission house?

At 5:00 in the afternoon,

it points a shadow at Ginger's grocery store,

right at the "O"

in "Open" on the sign in the window.

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

Goodbye, Mr. McKay.

Goodbye, Grace.

Grace's interview with Jack McKay

proved sadly symptomatic of the attitude in Dogville--

reserved but friendly,

not without curiosity.

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

Martha needed a monologue almost an hour long

to arrive at the same conclusion.

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

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

So, not very much later, Grace had ended up

next to Ma Ginger's gooseberry bushes

in a mood that was not particularly good.

She could not tell a gooseberry bush from a cactus,

but the meticulous order in the yard appealed to her,

such as the metal chains placed there

in order to shield the second and third bushes

lest anybody decided to make use

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

Grace pulled herself together

and headed towards the store.

- Hello. - Hi.

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

I told that to Tom.

Well, it doesn't matter anyway

because there's nothing I can do.

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

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

they'll be better by the morning.

It's the wood shavings.

I really do hate them.

But I do believe I'll take your advice.

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

Here comes Tom. How lucky we are!

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

Grace.

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

- Really? - No. Nobody needs any help.

Well, I thought that might be the case.

His plan to make everybody like me

has run into a few problems

because nobody wants me to work for them.

I would really like to offer something in return.

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

I mean, I'm willing to learn.

There must be somebody who needs help.

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

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

and nobody seems to need any help.

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

Funny, that's exactly what Tom said!

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

Just to prove him wrong...

maybe you can lend a hand here.

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

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

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

something that you would like done,

but that you don't think is necessary.

What on earth would that be?

Maybe the gooseberry bushes?

The gooseberries are just fine. Thank you very much.

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

We don't grow anything there.

Exactly.

A bit of tidying up.

Who knows,

those bushes might one day bear fruit.

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

All right, girl.

Those alabaster hands of yours

are hereby engaged to weed the wild gooseberry bushes.

There you go.

Thank you.

Around...

like this, you see?

Anything too close to them, just be careful.

There you-- oh!

After a few of the wild little gooseberry bushes

had given up the ghost in the care

of Grace's as yet unpracticed alabaster hands,

things began looking up with the weeding...

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

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

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

As Ben had no home,

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

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

when the act of domesticity had been completed,

no matter how unpredictable business hours

in the freight industry might otherwise have been.

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

as hitherto they had coped splendidly

with Olivia's excellent diaper arrangement.

If Jack McKay had needed a partner for conversation,

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

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

in his dark parlor with the dramatic drapes on one wall

for lengthy discussions regarding the underestimated qualities

of the light on the East Coast.

As Martha wouldn't dream of burdening the parish

with wear and tear of the pedals and bellows

while waiting for a new priest to be appointed,

she practiced without a note ever leaving the organ.

And was therefore not really in need

of anyone to turn her pages.

And God knows

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

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

My hands are getting much better.

Yes!

And although Liz's hands had improved

through Grace's good counsel,

Thomas Edison was a doctor, and of indisputable health.

And he did not need care or help

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

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

- Hooked? - Hooked.

You sound so arrogant.

Arrogance is the worst thing!

He doesn't like me.

And he has every right to feel that way.

Yeah. Listen...

luckily, I've prepared a Trojan horse.

- A what? - A Trojan horse.

We can get in by way of Vera.

There's this lecture tomorrow in Georgetown...

given by some professor.

It's some intellectual thing...

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

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

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

She trusts the girls mastering their iambic pentameters,

but not with the little one.

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

would watch him tomorrow afternoon.

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

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

and you can use the time and all of your charm

to try and win him over.

I will happily mind Achilles if Vera will let me.

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

Tom really was enchanted by this unusual, mysterious creature.

And even though she did not satisfy his curiosity

by saying anything about her past,

so as not to put anyone in danger,

she still fitted Tom's mission

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

Tom felt content.

Grace had been dangling over the edge,

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

It gave him a fine sensation of mastery,

new for him in terms of the opposite sex.

And his feelings unleashed the best in his burgeoning love.

Hello.

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

...Olympia, Diana,

Athena, Pandora,

Jason, Achilles.

Go play.

Your children are lovely.

They are good kids.

Mmm.

And I love them.

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

I cry too easily...

both in sorrow and in joy.

- Okay, Vera. - Oh, hi.

- Ready to go? - I'm ready.

Thanks for leaving the map out.

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

How did you know I was going that far?

Last time I saw the thermos,

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

so I just thought...

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

You're a sweet girl, Grace.

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

You gave yourself away again, Bill.

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

Oh.

Don't be ashamed, Ben.

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

I'm sure that those ladies in those houses,

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

Ain't nothing I'm proud of.

It really ain't.

It's all right.

I know what you're doing here.

You do?

You want people to like you...

so you don't have to go away.

You're very smart.

Yes, I like it here in Dogville.

So you want me to read to you

about the Cyclops?

I don't like the Cyclops.

Two eyes are prettier.

Like yours.

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

you just have to be nice to me.

Maybe you should help me clean up instead.

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

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

Please?

Okay.

What are you doing here?

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

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

the lot of you.

Same nonsense.

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

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

I wasn't trying to fool anyone.

I mean Dogville. Has it got you fooled yet?

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

Oh, wishful thinking.

This town is rotten...

from the inside out.

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

I see no charm here.

You seem to.

Admit it, you've fallen for Dogville.

The trees, the mountains...

the simple folk,

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

That damn cinnamon in those gooseberry pies.

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

You're worse than Tom.

How do you know what I've dreamed of?

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

That was a long time ago.

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

greedy as animals.

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

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

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

because you can't stand that I remind you

of what it was you came here to find.

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

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

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

Thank you, Grace.

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

The two weeks had passed far too quickly.

Grace had enjoyed herself.

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

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

Even though she might not have won everybody over completely,

or even half way, as Tom put it,

she cared for Dogville.

And she had shown the town her face.

Her true face.

But was that enough?

During Jack McKay's long lecture that evening,

she had found herself in a heart-searching mood.

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

the result was that the otherwise so-lovable Grace

indulged in a pretty shady piece of provocation.

So, you agree...

that the windows in St. Bridget's--

the first time you saw them--

didn't live up to their reputation?

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

of the church itself.

No, no, maybe it's...

the light in Los Angeles,

and the mosaic glass in those windows.

They kind of collide.

I remember thinking that.

I think we've talked long enough

about the way we remember seeing things.

- Don't you? - Well...

Why don't we talk about something...

that we can see right now?

There's not much to see around here.

Wretched town.

Why don't we talk about the view?

Well...

I don't go out much.

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

my skin.

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

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

you just manage to peer around Ben's garage,

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

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

windows behind there.

Huge windows.

It must be a wonderful view.

Would you mind if I opened them?

You're no fool, Miss Grace.

You're no fool.

You probably see that those curtains are hard to open.

I'm sorry.

And obviously concluded it's because...

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

But the view is good.

Entrancing, even.

So...

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

hanged these heavy curtains.

Yes, I'm blind.

Not weak-sighted,

not myopic,

blind.

So...

please go...

and let me be that on my own.

In Switzerland,

they call it

the Alpenglünen.

That's the light

that reflects from the highest peaks,

after the sun

goes down behind the mountains.

And now it's gone.

It was in complete silence

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

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

Grace was standing beside Tom, watching them convene

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

she would see these now-so-familiar faces.

She had at least two of them against her,

and even one would have been too many.

Welcome,

good people of Dogville,

two weeks--

two weeks have passed

and it's time for your verdict.

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

Well, Mrs. Henson, when Grace first came,

she made no attempt to hide her weakness from us,

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

Tell her to her face if we...

want her to leave.

No, Mrs. Henson's right.

Nobody should be prevented from speaking their mind

out of politeness.

I'll wait at the mine

and if the vote says that I should leave,

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

across the mountains while it's still light.

All of the things that I've borrowed,

if you could return them to everybody.

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

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

Well, I don't--

how do you want me to ring the bell?

Just ring it for every vote that lets me stay.

I'll count.

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

then I'll leave.

Tom is anxious to speak in her behalf,

but I think he's had his allotted time.

We know his view. We respect it.

And now he must respect ours.

Grace pulled her bundle out

from under the bureau to change into her own clothes

only to discover that somebody had been in it

and left a loaf of bread.

Next to it was a folded sheet of paper.

It was a map Tom had drawn.

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

It showed the path across the mountain,

and all the dangerous spots were furnished

with witty horrific little sketches.

But there was more...

several people had had the same idea.

They had eased gifts into the bundle for her.

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

And a pie from Ma Ginger and Gloria.

And some clothing and matches and a hymnal.

Grace opened it at number 18

where Martha always had trouble with the fingering,

and between the pages, lay a dollar bill.

Martha alone could not have afforded it.

Grace had friends in Dogville.

That was for sure.

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

Grace had bared her throat to the town

and it had responded with a great gift...

with friends.

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

no matter how many guns in the world.

And should the strokes of the bell not reach 15,

she knew now that she meant something to the town

and that her stay had been of significance.

Not much perhaps,

but nevertheless a trace she had left.

And the first in her young life

in which she took pride.

Grace stiffened as the bell began its toll.

Twelve.

14...

14, Grace counted.

So McKay must have voted for her after all.

And if so,

why not Chuck too?

Everyone?

- And Chuck. - Chuck?!

Everyone.

I think they like you here.

CHAPTER FOUR "Happy times in Dogville"

The period of spring and early summer

proved a happy one for Grace.

Martha rang the hours, conducting her through the day,

so she could serve as eyes for McKay,

- a mother for Ben, - Right.

a friend for Vera,

and brains for Bill.

And one day it had occurred to Grace

to tread the pedals herself

so as to get Martha to agree

to play a couple of proper notes

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

left under pressure and thus be spoiled.

And now they had tacitly agreed

that as long as it was Grace who trod the pedals

Martha could play without feeling any guilt.

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

every single day and was thus increasingly addicted

to the simpler coordination tests from his medical school days,

she had to be severe,

telling him that there was nothing wrong with him.

And now since the town had agreed

that everyone was to give according to his abilities,

she received wages-- not much,

but enough to save up

for the first of the tiny china figurines

from the row of seven that had stood for so long

gathering dust in the window of the store.

And she dreamed that in time,

she would be able to acquire them all.

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

Slowly those alabaster hands turned into a pair of hands

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

And three weeks later, she triumphantly moved into a place

Tom and Ben had secretly restored--

namely the old mill,

which had once held the town's ore crusher,

but of which only the heavy flywheel now remained.

- Hmm? - Thanks.

See, that's what I'm talking about

with the freight industry.

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

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

From a truck, you know?

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

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

Grace?

What?

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

for voting to keep you in Dogville.

What was it?

It was such a relief when you turned up,

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

You know, Tom and them?

I had to put up with it for long.

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

They'll always have eyes for you, Liz.

You know that.

- They will. - Okay.

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

The very latest development

now that summer was at its peak

was that Grace had been given leave

to help Chuck in the orchard.

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

she could appreciate that actually McKay was right.

The shadow of the spire

did indeed point at Ma Ginger's store.

But today

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

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

could have confused with the ringing of the hours--

a warning that somebody was approaching

by a canyon road from Georgetown.

For the first time in living memory

law enforcers had come to Dogville.

Good evening, sir.

This the whole place?

- Is there a town hall? - No.

I got me a notice to paste up.

We've got the mission house.

- That do you? - Sure.

What'd she do?

Missing, that's all it says.

I guess somebody's been missing her.

Heard tell she was last seen around here.

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

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

I guess that's the idea.

These men were never gonna give in easily.

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

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

No, but it was a policeman, Tom.

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

I mean legally speaking.

I--I'm sorry.

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

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

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

Why? We can't resort to plebiscites

time and time again.

Oh, come on,

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

CHAPTER FIVE "Fourth of July after all"

The fourth of July came

with huge clouds of seeds from some remote meadow

gracefully floating down Elm Street in the early evening.

Today was a day for celebration.

Nobody was to worry about the hard times.

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

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

And were thus the only two

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

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

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

In the orchard again today?

It's real nice down there with the sunshine.

Chuck, it's the Fourth of July.

What are you talking about sunshine for?

Have you turned into a romantic like me?

- No. - We're gonna have fun.

During the winter, we'll all starve.

Even Ben's taking the day off.

- Hi. - Hey, Tom.

Gracie, you got a moment?

- Now? - Yeah.

I've got something interesting to tell you.

Uh...

well, it has to be quick.

I got so much going on in my head.

That must be very tiring for you.

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

I think I understand them...

in a meaningful way.

But when I come to decipher you,

I get absolutely nowhere.

You know, Liz--

Liz is easy to read.

And there was some attraction between us.

But as I can see right through her,

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

My desire was purely of a physical--

physical nature.

But with you

it's...

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

What are you trying to say?

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

Are you trying to say that...

you're in love with me?

No, I wouldn't--

Love is what-- it's not--

It's a big word-- yeah.

Yeah.

Well, that's good.

Hmm...

Because...

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

Very interesting, isn't it?

I mean it's interesting in a psychological--

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

calling you.

I didn't hear them.

No.

You should...

probably get back anyway.

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

♪ America ♪

♪ America ♪

♪ God shed his grace on thee ♪

♪ And crown thy good with brotherhood ♪

♪ From sea to shining sea. ♪

- Bravo. - Yay.

Well done!

This year I didn't bring any notes with me

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

Which brings me to a point,

a point I want to make.

And that point is,

you, Grace.

Yes, you've made Dogville

a wonderful place to live in.

Yeah, as a matter of fact,

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

and he was actually smiling.

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

but I will bet you I could describe it.

Hmm?

Because it obviously has every color

that's refracted from the shiniest

prism in the world.

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

Does she have a face to match that, Tom?

- Yes, sir. - Huh?

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

We are proud to have you among us.

Hm-mm!

And we thank you

for showing us who you are.

Here's to you, Grace.

Stay with us as long as you damn please.

To Grace.

Stop!

A police car has just been seen in town

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

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

No, Martha, Grace probably heard.

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

Don't worry.

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

I gotta change this missing persons notice.

It's that lady again.

It's why she disappeared.

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

When did these robberies take place?

Last couple of weeks.

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

My dad's radio only plays music.

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

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

That's the law.

Two weeks.

Can't be our girl, Tom.

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

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

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

Still it's an unpleasant business just the same.

Grace was the same and so was the town.

That the gangsters had fixed to have charges

made against Grace and their efforts to neutralize her

came as no surprise.

But everything had changed a little yet again.

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

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

- Really? - I can only assume...

that it belongs on your body.

But you are the doctor,

so...

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

that a cancer would develop in such precise symmetry?

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

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

I think you have to accept the fact

that you are an exceptionally healthy

elderly gentleman.

I'm gonna rest just the same.

I'll see you in the morning.

I hope so.

What? What did they say?

Well...

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

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

- I think I should leave. - No.

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

- You did? - From a business perspective--

from a business prospective your--

your presence in Dogville has become more costly...

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

not that they don't want you.

It's just they feel there should be some

counterbalance.

Some quid pro quo.

That sounds like words the gangsters would use.

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

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

I can hardly think of anywhere else you could hide.

So what's the counterbalance that you suggest?

Right, well...

they wanted you to work longer hours.

But instead, what I proposed

is that

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

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

without actually lengthening your day too much.

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

But it sounds--

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

That's what I thought.

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

so you could keep track of your new schedule.

Then they're all willing to let me stay?

No.

Mrs. Henson, she also

thought we should cut your pay.

- So-- - Merely a symbolic gesture.

It was--

You see the word dangerous on the poster worried her.

I'm willing to do whatever it takes.

If I have to work

harder, longer hours for less pay,

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

I just want to be sure

that they wouldn't prefer that I left town.

Of course not.

You think this is for the best?

I know it is.

I have to get some sleep.

My days are gonna be much busier now.

I'm sorry.

Tom.

I just need to know something.

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

Yeah.

Did you show it to anyone?

Come on, Grace.

I burned it first thing.

I am being so silly,

of course you did.

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

No, it's not all right.

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

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

I'm sorry. Good night.

Everybody was really against

any changes to Grace's working conditions at all

when the subject occasionally came up in conversation.

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

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

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

Busy minutes became busy hours,

and busy hours became busy days.

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

had any fairness and justification to it or not,

it didn't seem to make anyone any happier,

more to the contrary.

Oh...

Grace, oh, you have to be more careful.

Liz wasn't very careful either,

but she didn't break our glasses.

I think you need to understand that Mr. Henson

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

It makes the glass weak.

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

Of course I'll pay for it.

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

We'll get over it.

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

to free the last tree trunks from the grass,

in order to keep the ever busy mice away.

She was in a hurry and took the shortcut

between the gooseberry bushes,

only to brought up by a shout.

- Grace! - Yes.

Oh...

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

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

for people to pass around the bushes completely.

I prefer it that way, as you should know.

I thought that these chains were put up to--

to make a path between the bushes.

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

But everyone goes this way.

Yeah, that's right,

but they've been living here for years,

you haven't been here that long.

Are you saying that I'm less entitled

to use the shortcut because

I haven't always lived here?

Of course not.

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

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

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

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

I promise.

I'm sorry about that branch,

there were so many apples on it.

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

Is it greedy to want to feed your family?

So how come you don't like me?

Why do you ask me that?

When I get close to you, you edge away.

No, I don't.

You did so

when we were thinning the seedlings in the bottom row.

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

You tried to kiss me.

Vera never took any interest in the apples.

She hates the orchard.

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

Sorry it made me so happy.

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

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

You can't really share my pleasure.

I do.

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

Things take time, that's love!

Seeing what they need and respecting those needs,

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

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

N--

Why do you find me so repugnant?

I don't find you repugnant, I--

Don't be upset.

I'm sorry if I doubted you.

It won't happen again...

I promise you.

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

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

It made me ashamed.

A thought that you'd hate me for.

I would never hate you--

never.

What?

Chuck, I treated you unfairly,

it's all right to have angry thoughts.

I thought of turning you in.

I thought of blackmailing you into respecting me.

It means that much to you?

It does, doesn't it?

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

You haven't had anyone to comfort you.

And I should ask you for forgiveness.

Still friends?

Sorry. Are you asleep?

No.

Want me to leave?

No, I was just resting.

Awful lot to do here in Dogville considering...

nobody needs anything done.

Jason wants to sit on my lap all the time.

I think you're doing a wonderful job.

You give us all so much.

What Mr. McKay said, right on the button.

Right on the button.

He tried to put his hand on my knee today.

Well, he's blind, after all.

It was probably an accident.

Ma Ginger

got angry at me for running across the gravel path.

Well, good. She gets angry at me.

Mmm.

It just means you're one of us now.

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

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

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

I don't think you have a choice tonight.

I do love you, Grace.

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

I really do.

I mean I yearn for you when...

when I'm not with you.

Hmm...

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

I yearn to be even closer to you,

to touch you the way that people--

We have our whole lives ahead of us.

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

that we can just-- just be together.

- Yeah. - Oh...

Yearning will only make it better.

Thank you for your...

your words, your wise, wise words.

You're welcome.

You want your shoes off?

CHAPTER SIX in which Dogville bares its teeth.

Jason, what are you doing here?

That's wrong.

The words have to be divided differently.

Stop it!

How's that for dividing the words?

This is not a good day. Everybody should leave.

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

What is it? What's going on?

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

Bet my Pa told you.

I don't think that.

I think there is another reason for this.

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

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

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

sometimes the people they promised get mad.

That's what Mrs. Henson says.

Yes, that's true.

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

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

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

I've been mean to the others too.

Even baby Achilles.

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

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

I got it coming to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would be pretty serious if she turned against you.

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

there's nothing I can do about that.

I feel bad, I need to be punished.

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

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

I'm not gonna spank you, Jason.

In that case...

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

But I just said that I wouldn't.

I reckon Ma'll take my word for it.

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

Stop it. Get away from Achilles. Stop it!

I gave his crib a shove.

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

Move away from the crib. Stop it, Jason!

Stop it! All right, you want a spanking?

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

There... there we go.

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

- All right. - Harder.

Oh, this is--Come on!

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

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

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

Hey, there's Pa!

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

Just as Dogville had done from its open,

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

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

And there she dangled from her frail stalk

like the apple in the Garden of Eden,

an apple so swollen that the juices almost ran.

And once again, the police had come to Dogville.

I said I'd tell you--

to save Martha the confusion about the ringing.

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

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

- You forgot? - Yeah.

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

The FBI.

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

Anything related to that wanted poster.

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

of anyone camping out there.

God only knows what that woman is capable of.

You know she is not capable of anything.

Well, that's what you say.

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

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

What did you tell them?

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

An item of clothing, to be exact.

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

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

Expensive by the feel of it.

Your initials on it.

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

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

I reckon we got us 10 minutes, maybe 15,

before they start knocking on doors.

I wouldn't try to run away.

They're sure to see you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't...

This is wrong.

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

I can force you.

Please...

No! Ow! Stop it!

Please stop, please.

Please don't, please.

Please, please, look at me.

Look at me and talk to me, please.

We're friends. You're my friend.

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

Have you seen Grace?

She's at my place.

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

Yet again Grace had made

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

Everyone had covered up for her, including Chuck,

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

he'd mistakenly considered so suspicious.

CHAPTER SEVEN in which Grace finally gets enough of Dogville,

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

That evening, Tom had sensed at once

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

before she finally broke down

and unburdened herself.

I have to confront him, I mean...

- No, no. - I have no choice.

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

I came here with all these ideas

and these stupid prejudices...

He's not strong, Tom.

He looks strong, but he's not.

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

The end of the summer had come

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

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

searching in vain for Elm Street's nonexistent elms.

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

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

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

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

Vera's got it in for you today.

What are you talking about?

Maybe you thought he wouldn't tell me.

Who?

You hit Jason.

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

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

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

I should have done it myself a long time ago.

Liz!

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

I know how much you love him, Vera.

So do I.

It won't happen again.

It really won't--

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

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

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

about sleeping at night like most folks do.

Sleeping at night?

Martha saw a certain Tom Edison Jr.

sneak out of her shed

early this morning.

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

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

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

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

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

It's not what I am after, Liz.

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

Maybe that wasn't flirting.

Yes, maybe I was flirting.

Next day, the weather changed.

The fog came rolling down from the mountains.

And although there were no sunsets to be seen,

McKay thought it best that she sat by him anyway.

She had sat by Jack McKay so many times now.

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

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

now it was a hand that remained in place

throughout the allotted span.

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

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

that respect for cultivation, harvest and fruit

could be directly measured in provision of carnality.

Though reluctant to leave Grace alone,

Tom wandered around quite often now, lost in thought

as he tried to crack the problem of possible escape.

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

he had stepped in,

and together they had triumphantly picked up

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

- What's the matter? - Nothing.

Are the police on Canyon Road again?

No...

this is just girl talk.

It's funny you should mention Canyon Road though,

right, Martha? She was just there this morning.

- Yep. - On the way home from church.

You see so much more on foot.

You know, when you're in a car,

you never notice the apple orchard for example.

You can only see it

from one spot on Canyon Road.

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

Yes I do. Yep.

And...

did you stop there to enjoy the view this morning?

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

The old masters always loved a good harvest theme,

redolent with fertility,

not to mention sensibility,

or even eroticism.

But how silly of me

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

Mmm.

She saw you, Grace.

She saw you...

behind this pile of broken limbs--

with Chuck.

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

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

He's a withdrawn

and primitive man.

Vera--

But at heart, he's loyal!

And he's good.

What do you want with my husband?

I don't want anything...

with your husband

or anybody.

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

That's different, I like Tom.

But you don't like Chuck?

Liz and Martha are behind me

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

I believe in education.

Vera!

I believe smashing them

is less a crime than making them.

Vera, remember

how I taught your children...

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

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

about the doctrine of stoicism and they finally understood it?

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

I am going to break two of your figurines first.

And if you can demonstrate

your knowledge of the doctrine of stoicism

by holding back your tears,

I'll stop.

Have you got that?

In her lifetime, Grace had had considerable practice

at constraining her emotions and would never have believed

it would be hard to control them now.

But as the porcelain pulverized on the floor,

it was as if it were human tissue disintegrating.

The figurines were the offspring of the meeting

between the township and her.

They were the proof that in spite of everything,

her suffering had created something of value.

Grace could no longer cope.

For the first time since her childhood, she wept.

Grace went to see Tom that very night

and informed him that she was ready to follow his advice

and leave the township.

And since Tom had just made up his mind

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

they agreed that Ben possessed the greatest potential.

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

And estimated that considering the times and all,

$10 would suffice for Ben and his truck.

But we don't have $10.

Then we borrow it.

- From whom? - From Dad.

He has more than that in the medicine closet.

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

But you have a word with Ben.

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

Tell your father that I will pay him back.

Of course!

Thank you.

You're always... rescuing me.

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

Good night.

You should get some sleep.

Grace went to see Ben next morning.

Ben?

When Grace presented the payment

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

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

when they realized what had happened.

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

but somehow Grace wasn't too sure of that.

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

from other folks' misfortunes, as he put it.

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

No.

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

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

He had freighted all kinds of things in his day.

The plan was for Grace to hide among the apples.

"Knowing the exact time to harvest

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

And the time had come

for the apples and for Grace.

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

the same indifference to the timing of my chores,

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

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

June is near to bursting.

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

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

The evening before the escape, Tom tactically thought it best

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

And instead, he adopted a more sensitive approach.

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

You can't plant seeds in the winter.

That's true,

but I love you...

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

And we will meet again in love and in freedom.

Absolutely.

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

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

I know.

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

- But not this way. - No.

It's not right.

The next morning, when Grace

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

it seemed to Grace that the entire township

was out and about at the same time.

- Grace? - Yes, Vera?

If you think that by hitting my child,

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

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

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

Uh, at... 12:00?

Yes.

Why are you taking your copious belongings around with you?

Afraid you're gonna lose them?

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

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

Dad wants you to repack the whole last load.

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

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

but this is Dogville.

We're not wealthy here.

And if your hands get a bit red,

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

Grace.

- Oh, Martha. - Hi.

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

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

Where have you been?

Harvest is the holiest time of the year.

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

I'll be down in a minute, Chuck.

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

As Grace hastened to the garage, she grew

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that this is a professional job, of course.

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

Canyon Road snaked down the valley and away

and Grace went too.

And with every bend,

the township and its noises

faded ever more mercifully behind her.

- Something wrong? - Yeah.

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

I wasn't expecting that.

It's more dangerous than I thought.

We'll have to go back.

- Back? - Yeah.

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

it's just, if this was a--

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

paid proper like, it would be a lot easier.

But it's been paid for.

Yeah, but in the freight industry

carrying a dangerous load,

it costs more.

A surcharge, they call it.

If this were a professional job,

I could just charge you.

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

Oh, that's no good then.

You said once...

you said once

that there aren't many pleasures in my life.

You know I go to Miss Laura once a week.

Yes.

And you, you got me to see that

it weren't nothing to be ashamed of.

And see...

I was gonna go there tonight.

And of course, it costs me.

Not as much as--

not as much as a surcharge for--

for dangerous goods,

but still...

it does cost me, you know.

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

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

- I just... - No.

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

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

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

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

We're parked in the square in Georgetown.

Right outside the church.

You'd better keep your voice down.

No, Ben.

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

Don't go thinking that.

Grace fell asleep on the long highway,

thanks to her healthy ability

to push any unpleasantness around her far away.

A generous God had blessed her with the rare talent

of being able to look ahead

and only ahead.

And later when the truck slowed down

about to reach its destination

and she slowly returned to consciousness,

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

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

And then she heard the dog.

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

You bruised them.

We had a meeting last night at the mission house.

They said you might be gonna try to run away.

So when I discovered you'd--

hidden yourself away on my truck...

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

In the freight industry we can't take sides.

It didn't help Grace

that the first theft ever registered in Dogville

had taken place the previous evening

when most people were assembled for the town meeting.

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

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

who had apparently been planning an escape

that would surely require funding.

Grace chose to remain silent

in the face of these new charges.

And then Bill, who had lately improved his engineering skills

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

implemented a kind of escape prevention mechanism.

Beautiful, it might not have been,

but effective, he dared say it was.

Grace,

we don't like having to do this.

We don't have much of a choice,

if we're to protect our community.

Could you, would you mind moving?

Try moving?

It works.

We had to make this heavy enough

so that it could only move...

where the ground is level,

and the ground is level in town.

May I go now?

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

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

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

Don't think of this as punishment,

not at all.

See, Bill, he made the chain long enough

so that you can sleep in your bed.

Grace, 6:00.

Yes, Mrs. Henson.

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

and Tom leaves.

I'm...

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

They think it was me that took the money.

'Cause I told them so.

You did what?

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

since you were the one using the medicine closet.

Why?

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

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

they can never know how close we really are.

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

If they knew it was me that took the money,

I wouldn't be here talking to you now.

Please, don't disappear, Tom.

I need you.

I'll break this one with some thinking.

It was not Grace's pride

that kept her going during the days when fall came

and the trees were losing their leaves,

but more of the trancelike state that descends

on animals whose lives are threatened,

a state in which the body reacts mechanically,

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

like a patient passively letting his disease hold sway.

And now that Vera had received proof

that it was in fact Chuck

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

Had Grace had friends in Dogville,

they too fell like the leaves.

Most townspeople of the male sex

now visited Grace at night

to fulfill their sexual needs.

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

every time such an act had been consummated...

much to Martha's confusion.

But since the chain had been attached,

things had become easier for everyone.

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

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

They were embarrassing, in the way it is

when a hillbilly has his way with a cow,

but no more than that.

Tom saw everything. It pained him.

And the sexual visits were a particularly severe blow.

Good night.

But he supported her as best he could,

the way a spider supports

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

Tom.

Everything I tried to do went wrong.

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

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

You're very clever.

I provoked them.

I wouldn't worry about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

just the truth about each and every one of them.

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

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

who doesn't want to take his medicine.

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

it's for their own good.

Just don't be hateful.

Don't be reproving.

If anybody can do it, Grace, you can.

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

has only one true victim and that's you.

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

You've done some hard thinking, Tom Edison.

I'm sure it's an excellent plan.

I'm sure.

If forgiveness was close at hand in the mission house,

they were all hiding it well.

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

Appealing to consciences

stowed farther and farther away by their owners every day,

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

had proved quite a task.

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

so nobody could talk behind anybody's back.

Tom had set the scene for Grace's speech.

Now, she'd have to sink or swim

and sincerity be brought to bear.

While Grace addressed

the silent congregation in the mission house on Elm Street,

the first of the early autumn snowstorms embraced the town.

The snowflakes dusted down over the old buildings

as if this were just any old town.

And they played in the branches and twigs,

from which the apples had hung.

But luckily the harvest was home

and, via the freight industry, had found a market

despite the ever-disappointing prices.

Grace had presented her story with clarity.

She had not embellished or understated.

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

leaving Dogville clad in the daintiest,

whitest blanket of snow imaginable.

Hmph.

I don't think it went very well.

It's fine. You did good.

The snow had come early, perhaps too early--

a misplaced augury of conciliation?

Tom looked around, worried.

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

Copious lies, just lies.

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

that I have of this town and its residents.

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

What do you have to say for yourself, Tom?

Maybe it's time you picked sides.

Are you for us or against us?

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

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

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

she's been managed to spread bitterness

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

How do we get rid of her, Tom?

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

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

Without her lies and accusations spreading.

I asked you here to listen.

You only came to defend yourselves.

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

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

so uncivilized.

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

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

No more plans, I promise.

They asked me to choose between you and them.

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

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

the ideals we share.

I'm exhausted.

Lie down.

I've chosen, Grace,

I've chosen you.

And now it's the time,

the time we've been waiting for.

We've freed ourselves of Dogville.

You're right.

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

They may kill us any minute,

it would be the perfect romantic ending--

You know I feel it too.

It would be so beautiful, but from...

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

We were to meet in freedom.

You're cold now, Grace.

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

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

just a little to ease my pain?

Everybody in this town has had your body but me.

We're the ones supposed to be in love.

My darling Tom.

You can have me if you want me.

Just do what the others do.

Threaten me.

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

and I promise you,

you can take whatever it is you want from me.

I trust you.

But maybe you don't trust yourself.

Perhaps you've been tempted.

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

Perhaps that's why you're so upset.

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

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

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

Good.

Let tomorrow bring what it's gonna bring.

It's not a crime

to doubt yourself, Tom.

But it's wonderful that you don't.

I can't find the rest.

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

Take a walk or something to get it--

get it all out of my system.

Trudge the streets,

listen to the wind as it passes

through the woods up through the valley

and all that.

You go to sleep though.

You go to sleep

and I'll be back

very soon.

Of course, it was all a load of nonsense.

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

After all, it was his job.

Moral issues were his home ground.

To think that he might doubt his own purity

was really to think very little of him.

Tom was angry.

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

It was not because he'd been wrongly accused,

but because the charges were true.

His anger consisted of a most unpleasant feeling

of being found out.

It was all quite a blow to the young philosopher.

And realistically enough,

he thought that if the doubt was already present,

it could grow perhaps so great

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

Tom stopped.

He almost began to shake when the threat

to his career as a writer dawned upon him.

It didn't take him long to agree with himself

that the risk was too great to run.

The danger Grace was to the town,

she was also to him.

Tom did not like it

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

Fortunately, Tom was as conscientious as regards his future profession

as he was practical.

He allowed sincerity and ideals plenty of room in his life

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

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

and with him future generations of readers,

as a basis of a novel or indeed a trilogy

was not an act he was so stupid to commit.

Although he had to admit that in a moment of weakness

he might have said he would.

Before returning to the meeting that night,

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

and found it still there--

the card from the gangster in the car.

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

and the snow was long since gone.

For the first time for ages

the pile driver could be heard in the marshlands

as it hammered in the piles

of what might or might not be a penitentiary.

Grace opened her eyes,

after an almost unconscious sleep and was confused...

Judging by the light coming through the cracks in the walls

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

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

being a man of many ideas and proclivities,

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

But why had nobody roused her?

Nobody had hammered furiously at her door,

not a child had thrown mud into her bed

or broken her remaining windowpanes.

Now she remembered.

She recalled the meeting the previous day

and puzzled still more.

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

or even killed?

It was quite unlike Dogville

to restrain its indignation on any point.

Perhaps things had turned out well after all.

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

I would have come earlier, but I--

I overslept.

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

We thought some time off would be good for you.

That was quite a speech you made yesterday.

Gave us all something to think about.

- Hello, Liz. - Hi, Grace.

Hi.

I overslept.

Morning, Miss Grace.

- Good morning. - How you this morning?

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

It's Grace.

Hello, Grace.

Two seconds.

Good news.

I went back to the meeting last night.

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

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

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

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

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

And you looked like you needed it.

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

And you know,

not one single person objected.

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

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

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

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

You know, Grace, last night when I came back

and I saw you

lying there asleep so sweetly,

I was suddenly inspired.

I wrote the first chapter of a story--

a story about a small town.

Guess where I got the inspiration?

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

Why not just call it Dogville?

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

A lot of writers make that mistake, you see.

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

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

Would you be offended if I said no?

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

No, no.

Two people will only hurt each other

if they doubt the love they have in one another.

You can read it some other time.

You sit down someplace,

gaze out at the mountains.

It's what the girl in my novel does.

I'll see you later.

I'll see you. Good news.

Sensibly, Grace chose to hope for the best,

rather than fear the worst,

and planned to spend the day

calmly washing her clothes and herself--

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

from Tom's fictitious township would dream of doing.

And then it was as if Dogville just waited.

Even the wind dropped,

leaving the town in an unfamiliar calm,

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

and created the kind of quietness

that descends while you're awaiting visitors.

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

but the quietness remained.

Indeed, it intensified.

Until on the fifth day...

it swelled into a strange mood

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

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

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

on his way to Georgetown that very morning

on account of a large tree blocking the road.

They were not worried.

Worried was not the right word.

And then Tom spotted the cars.

- How many cars? - Eight, eight.

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

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

They must have come through before the tree came down.

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

- Hello, June. - Shh.

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

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

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

Nobody gonna sleep here.

She didn't say them out loud

but even so, was startled by the utterance

that had urged itself upon her.

Where had these ominous words come from?

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

The people on the square overlooking the valley

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

They trudged up Elm Street in disappointment.

- Tom. - Hi, Grace.

There were some cars, but--

too dark, we can't see anymore.

We haven't seen much of each other.

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

Can I ask you something?

Yeah, anything.

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

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

I told you how dangerous that man was.

That was stupid.

Stupid or not, Tom was soon

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

If the vehicles were indeed a sign that the call

Tom had placed five days earlier on behalf of the community

to the number indicated on the card from his bureau drawer

had at last led to action

and Grace was now to be eliminated from their lives,

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

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

Grace heard it turn in the lock,

but she was deeply absorbed by arguments and thoughts

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

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

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

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

things had moved rapidly.

Tom had arranged a delegation to provide a proper reception.

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

Welcome, gentlemen, welcome.

The town places itself at your disposal.

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

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

Where is she?

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

they're driving piles for the new penitentiary.

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

as we're led to believe?

Maybe people just regard things as criminal because, uh,

because they envy their success.

What's your opinion on the subject?

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

Sorry.

Voila, as the French might say.

What the hell is this?

Who did that?

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

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

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

We felt safer when she had the chain on.

You're probably more adept at handling her kind.

None of us feel able

to accept money for just helping people.

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

- Shut the hell up! - Absolutely.

Grace was no expert in exclusive automobiles,

yet she recognized with no difficulty

the sound of the vehicle that was rounding the corner

from Canyon Road at that very moment.

Alas, in Grace's memory

the legendary purr of the Cadillac series 355 C

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

that of gunfire directed against her person.

Don't!

You need to justify your actions before you shoot us?

That's new.

That could be interpreted as weakness, Daddy.

I'm disappointed in you.

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

Yes.

And so I regret that...

you ran away.

But shooting at you certainly didn't help matters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's why you showed up?

And you call me stubborn?

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

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

but of course, that would never happen.

You're more-- more than welcome

to return home, become my daughter again anytime,

and I would even begin

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

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

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

It was a word you used that provoked me.

You called me arrogant.

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

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

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

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

No, you do not pass judgment

because you sympathize with them. A deprived childhood,

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

The only thing you can blame is circumstances--

rapists and murderers

may be the victims, according to you,

but I, I call them dogs.

And if they're lapping up their own vomit,

the only way to stop them is with the lash.

But dogs only obey their own nature,

so why shouldn't we forgive them?

Dogs can be taught many useful things,

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

So I'm arrogant?

I'm arrogant because I forgive people.

My God,

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

I mean you have-- you have this preconceived notion

that nobody, listen--that nobody can possibly attain

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

I cannot--

I cannot think of anything more arrogant than that.

You, my child, my dear child,

you forgive others with excuses

that you would never in the world permit for yourself.

Why shouldn't I be merciful? Why?

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

when there's time to be merciful.

But, you must maintain your own standards.

You owe them that, you owe them that.

The penalty you deserve for your transgression,

they deserve for their transgressions.

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

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

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

And that is extremely arrogant.

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

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

And you call me arrogant.

I...

I have no more to say.

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

And without my daughter I suppose.

Hmm?

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

- Well? - Yes!

You decide, you decide.

Grace, they--

they say you're having some trouble here.

No.

No more trouble than back home.

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

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

Listen, my love,

power is not so bad.

I am sure that you can

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

Take a walk and think about it.

The people who live here...

are doing their best

under very hard circumstances.

If you say so, Grace.

But is their best...

really good enough?

I do love you.

Grace had already thought for a long time.

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

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

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

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

even though the difference between the people she knew back home

and the people she'd met in Dogville

had proven somewhat slighter than she'd expected.

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

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

they would be there come spring as always,

and come summer they'd again be bursting

with the quite incomprehensible quantity of berries

that were so good in pies,

especially with cinnamon.

Grace looked around at the frightened faces

behind the windowpanes that were following her every step

and felt ashamed of being part of inflicting that fear.

How could she ever hate them

for what was at bottom merely their weakness?

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

if she had lived in one of these houses.

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

would she not, in all honesty,

have done the same as Chuck?

And Vera and Ben? And Mrs. Henson?

And Tom? And all these people in their houses?

Grace paused.

And while she did,

the clouds scattered and let the moonlight through.

And Dogville underwent another of those little changes of light.

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

finally refused to cover up for the town any longer.

Suddenly you could no longer imagine a berry

that would appear one day on a gooseberry bush,

but only see the thorn that was there right now.

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

and in the people.

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

If she had acted like them

she could not have defended a single one of her actions

and could not have condemned them harshly enough.

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

No, what they had done was not good enough.

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

for the sake of other towns,

for the sake of humanity

and not least, for the sake of the human being

that was Grace herself.

If I went back and...

became your daughter again,

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

Now.

At once?

Why not?

So that would mean that I would also take on

the immediate responsibility, at once.

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

like the problem

of Dogville.

We could start by shooting the dog

and nailing it to a wall over there,

beneath that lamp for example.

It might help, it sometimes does, no?

It would only make the town more frightened,

it would hardly make it a better place.

And it could happen again.

Somebody...

somebody happening by, revealing...

their frailty.

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

I want to make this world a little better.

Yeah?

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

Can we just shoot him now?

No, let me talk to him.

What? What is it?

A man can't really be blamed

for being scared, can he?

- No... - No.

I'm scared, Grace.

I used you and I am sorry.

I am stupid. I am.

I'm maybe even arrogant sometimes.

You are, Tom.

Although using people is not very charming,

I think you have to agree that this specific illustration

has surpassed all expectations.

It says so much about being human.

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

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

Not now.

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

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

Oh...

What? Something else, honey?

There's a family with kids.

Do the kids first and make the mother watch.

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

I owe her that.

I'm afraid she cries a little too easily.

We'd better get you out of here.

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

Come on, come on.

Feeling cold, sweetie? Would you like a wrap?

I'm fine.

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

You think?

I think we should open them.

I think it's appropriate.

No!

- No! No! - No, no.

No, No.

No!

- No, Dad, no. - No.

Dad!

Chuck!

Mom!

Mom, help, help!

Mom!

Stay, Achilles.

Dear God.

No! Oh God!

Bingo, Grace.

Bingo.

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

It's frightening, yes,

but so clear.

Do you think I can allow myself to use it

as an inspiration in my writing?

Goodbye, Tom.

Some things you have to do yourself.

Really?

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

Suddenly there was a noise--

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

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

that was rapidly burning out.

It came again, everyone heard it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Moses.

His survival was astonishing, a miracle.

No, no.

No, just let him be.

They will have spotted the flames in Georgetown by now.

Someone will come and find him.

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

Whether Grace left Dogville,

or on the contrary Dogville had left her--

and the world in general--

is a question of a more artful nature

that few would benefit from by asking,

and even fewer by providing an answer.

And nor indeed will it be answered here.

♪ They pulled in just behind the bridge ♪

♪ He lays her down, he frowns ♪

♪ "Gee, my life's a funny thing ♪

♪ Am I still too young?" ♪

♪ He kissed her then and there ♪

♪ She took his ring, took his babies ♪

♪ It took him minutes, took her nowhere ♪

♪ Heaven knows she'd have taken anything ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ She wants a young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ She wants the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ But she wants the young American ♪

♪ Scanning life through the picture window ♪

♪ She finds a slinky vagabond ♪

♪ He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang ♪

♪ But heaven forbid, she'll take anything ♪

♪ But the freak and his type offer nothing ♪

♪ Misses a step and cuts his hand ♪

♪ But showing nothing, he swoops like a song ♪

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

♪ All night ♪

♪ She wants the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ She wants the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ Well, she wants the young American ♪

♪ All the way from Washington ♪

♪ Her breadwinner begs off the bathroom floor ♪

♪ We live for just these 20 years ♪

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

♪ All night ♪

♪ He wants the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ He wants the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ Well, he wants the young American ♪

♪ Do you remember ♪

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

♪ Do you remember ♪

♪ The bills you have to pay? ♪

♪ Or even yesterday? ♪

♪ Have you been an unAmerican? ♪

♪ Just you and your idol singing falsetto ♪

♪ About leather, leather, everywhere ♪

♪ And not a myth left from the ghetto ♪

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

♪ In case, just in case of depression? ♪

♪ Sit on your hands on the bus of survivors ♪

♪ Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas ♪

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

♪ Well, it ain't that Barbie doll ♪

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

♪ All night ♪

♪ All night for the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ You want the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ You want the young American ♪

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

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

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

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

♪ I heard the news today, oh boy ♪

♪ I got a suite and you got defeat ♪

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

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

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

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

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

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

♪ Break down and cry? ♪

♪ All night ♪

♪ I want the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ I want the young American ♪

♪ All right ♪

♪ I want the young American, young American ♪

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

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

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

♪ You want I, I want you want ♪

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

♪ I want the Young American, all night ♪

♪ And all I want is the young American ♪

♪ Young American, young American ♪

♪ I want the young American. ♪