Original subtitles

Provided by explosiveskull https://twitter.com/kaboomskull

Incoming fire!

Gray haunted eyes,

absentmindedly glaring

from wide, uneven orbits.

One brow drooping some water over the eye.

Because of a missile fragment,

still inheriting skin deep

as a foolish record of old world fight.

Incoming!

I stand ready with a boy's presumption

to court the queen in her high silk pavilion.

How did it come to this?

You once asked me how we should describe our love.

I'd say it was a result of demons that arose

from the trenches of France,

where death was always a bullet away.

Your poems about the wolves

spoke to a generation of men who shared in your suffering.

But I wasn't allowed in.

And so they marked me dead,

the day that I turned 21.

They counted me as dead, did they?

The day my childhood slipped away,

the manhood was begun.

Oh, that was the right day to die.

- Incoming! - The 24th of July.

When we were married, I wanted to be everything.

I wanted to be a painter,

I wanted to fight for women's rights.

Solving our own destinies.

You wrote your children's tales to hide behind

the nightmares of war, and I was illustrating them.

We were...

Partners.

Partners.

If you invite a serpent into your home,

perhaps you shouldn't be surprised if it bites you.

I'd thought a cottage in the hills.

A cottage full of books, pictures and bras, and...

cozy nooks.

Flowers in the garden,

walls all wet.

I'd live there peacefully,

and dream, and write.

Dims his grave screams.

I regret to write and tell you that there's some problem...

died of wounds.

Hello.

Oh, hello father.

Oh, it's wonderful news.

No, I'm... I'm happy for you.

I've been trying to get them see my drawings for years.

Was your love for me real,

or a product of necessity.

I tried desperately to help you escape into

an unthreatening world where your poetry could thrive.

I would comfort you,

but you probably don't remember that.

Please remember,

our veterans are the fabric of our nation,

and we need to support them.

Our next reader requires no introduction.

Mr. Siegfried Sassoon.

Thank you.

The anguish of the Earth

absorbs eyes,

till beauty shines in all that we can see.

War is our scourge.

And yet, war has made us wise,

and fighting for our freedom,

we are free

of wounds,

and the anger at foe,

and things lost desired.

All these must pass.

We are the happy legion,

for we know that time

is but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

Your poems went down well, Sassoon.

As did yours.

- Hello, Robert. - Hello.

I was hoping to hear some of your latest,

or at least an old poem, perhaps.

Robert has nothing new to share.

Another round of the, John?

Of course, Mr..

- Robert. - Yes?

Are you well?

Yes, of course.

I miss our life in France.

Wasn't a bad life then, was it?

Hammering rain, mud puddles,

rats and forth.

You want to.

Yes. Well...

I've often said that war is not the end, but...

just the beginning of the violence.

I have applied for a teaching post,

Charterhouse next term.

What about your writing?

No one needs a war poet anymore.

Unless they're dead.

People don't like my new poetry.

They like this modern...

clever stuff.

Besides, I need the money.

I know.

There is no money in poetry. Hm.

There is no poetry in money either.

Why don't we spend a few days together, hm?

To back

and just give your work a proper going over.

Like the critical days at the army depo.

I'm yesterday's news, Sas.

[footsteps thudding

How are you feeling?

Steady as a rock.

What do you have there?

"Dear Robert Graves. On the recommendation

"of certain members of the teaching staff,

"I'm pleased to offer you the position

"of assistant headmaster, as well as teacher"

"of English here at Charterhouse School."

Should I accept?

I mean, we need the money.

We have the grocery, I don't think the butcher

is gonna extend credit any longer.

If you don't accept this teaching position, Robert,

I don't think we can go to your parents' for help anymore.

Supper will be ready soon.

Catherine.

Catherine, co... come... come here.

Listen.

What are we supposed to be listening to?

Do you not hear the nightingale sing?

Nightingale has no reason to be singing this late in the year.

They usually stop at the end of June,

when their nesting season ends.

A nightingale is the bird of what?

- Poetic love. - That's right.

And if a nightingale can sing

on a chilly autumn morning,

as passionately and as sweetly as it does

on the night of May...

then there is hope for me yet.

Guidance.

"The poet should not be merely a stream of passage

"between the source that is life

"and the outlet that is poetry.

"The poet should take a more active role

"in which he envisages life,

"not as an influence upon the soul,

"but the soul as an influence upon life."

"The task of the poet is to take the universe apart,

"to re-integrate it with his own vitality,

"and it is this re-integrated universe

"that will in turn possess him,

"give him rest.

"If this voyage reveals a futility,"

"then it is a futility worth facing."

Laura Riding.

Nancy.

- And have a little bit a flour. - Perfect.

Nancy! She wrote to me.

Who wrote to you?

Laura Riding.

Who's Laura Riding?

But it's different from anything else I've read.

And she's talking about things that concern women.

Well, and Alan Tate's the criteria

and told me that she's just won the group's

top literary prize and...

and she's looking to move to England.

Is she?

We should ask her to come stay with us.

Perhaps, you two can work on a project together.

You think so?

Perhaps she won't wish to work with me.

Why?

Robert, you are a highly successful writer

with six books to your name,

not to mention two collections of poetry.

You're wonderful.

You're just going through a dry spell.

And you'd be content?

No teaching post,

money hard to come by and her living with us?

Let's write to her.

Miss Riding,

welcome to World's End.

You must be Nancy.

Ugh, England,

the land of Byron and Keats,

Shelley, Mary Shelley, that is.

- Why do you paint? - Why do you write?

Well, this talented husband of yours must write again.

I have to say your letters inspired me.

As did your poems.

Measure me by myself,

not by time or love or space or beauty.

That I may be on my low stone, a gauge unto myself alone.

I would have these old faiths fall

to prove that I was nothing at all.

England.

I can't believe I'm here.

Oh.

Hello.

Come in.

Come and introduce yourself.

Um, Laura, this is our daughter, Catherine Nicholson.

Hello.

What a handsome young child she is.

Just like her mother and father.

Why do you wear those?

Do you not like my necklaces?

They're a lot.

Catherine, it is very important to be completely oneself.

Many people don't know everything about themselves,

and therefore they do not light up everything around them.

We need a plan.

A tutor.

Yes, mother. Uh, Laura will serve as a tutor to Catherine

and also collaborate with me on my next book.

She is a brilliant poet.

Robert and I both think so and we think it's a wonderful

idea that Catherine gets to see the world through Laura's eyes.

And she will live here as well, then?

Where else?

And the teaching post at Charterhouse?

Uh, I turned it down.

Robert wanted to concentrate on writing his book with Laura.

A-and you approve of this?

I do.

Miss Riding, how would you instruct my granddaughter

in the teachings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?

We all must return to Zion at some point, mother.

Well, perhaps, in New York but in England

we have very clear ideas about proper religious instruction.

- Of course. - Miss Riding, I'm intrigued.

What kind of book are you and my son planning to write?

Well, I've been interested in his survey

of the recent poetry movement.

I think it's about time we put those

so-called modernist poets in their place.

What do you think Robert?

I think that is a perfect idea.

We... we... we should start tomorrow.

- Robert, you're forgetting. - What?

I wanted to ask Laura to come into Oxford with me tomorrow.

- All right. - A friend of mine is doing

a lecture on the virtues of birth control.

It'll be very interesting.

I think you say these things to provoke me.

Birth control is nothing more than

an incitement to promiscuity.

Well, when half the population is under the poverty line

with unwanted children, it's quite difficult

to put all of my faith in God alone.

Hear, hear.

Miss Riding, I apologize for our children's outlook on life.

I should say. I'm very grateful to be here.

And of course, Catherine's well-being

and education is very important.

I'll make sure to spend time with both of them, equally.

Should we agree to this, uh, situation?

If it enables Robbie to get published

then perhaps his financial position will improve.

Is that all you have to say?

A maid and a tutor are more to my son's status, anyway.

Robert needs to write a successful book

and he needs people to stop fussing over...

Robert seems to think he needs another woman

Jesus Christ.

I very much regret to be doing this...

- Died of wounds. - He was very gallant.

- He was doing so well. - Died of wounds.

It is a great loss.

I'm... I'm... I'm... I'm fine.

I'm all right. Uh, I'm fine.

I'm... I'm... I'm all right.

What is that?

2, 3, 4 and 5.

Very good. Keep going.

Yes and spin and a spin and a spin.

- She's mad. - Good morning.

Oh!

Did we wake you?

- Yes. - We were having so much fun.

I hope you don't mind.

I woke up with so much energy that I took a walk

and I thought I would make an authentic New York breakfast.

- My word. - Gosh.

- The things that you have here. - This is marvelous.

Yes.

Let's pretend we are on Delancey Street

on the Lower East Side.

What happens on the Lower East Side?

Well, face the very few people, I believe.

There are cramped buildings and crowd filled streets

with hardworking immigrants, vibrant artistic community,

Yiddish theater, poetry, artists portraying the truth.

The truth is what matters.

As do these divine potato pancakes.

Now, eat before it gets cold.

Well, I, for one, haven't had such stimulating company

for a long time, so thank you.

Laura, we read your poetry again last night,

myself and Nancy and, um,

with your permission, I'd like to send your work

to Virginia and Leonard Woolf

who I'm hoping in time will publish it

on their Hogarth Press.

My goodness.

It seems you silenced Miss Riding.

These kind words from a poet like your husband,

I was just... cheers.

Well, here's to a long and prosperous

beautiful partnership.

Hear, hear.

Laura, you have too much...

too much paint on your brush.

You need to paint from the top-down.

You know, if we were in London, we could be in

a nearly furnished and freshly painted house.

Yes, but we're not in London and I'd...

very much like to get this finished before dinner,

so that we can move the bed back.

We could pay it back later.

And where would you sleep, pray?

In that case.

What? N-no.

No.

- No. - No.

- No. - No.

You said paint from the top-down.

Right, this is war.

Come on.

What are you two doing?

War. This is war.

You have such beautiful skin.

Do I?

Are you sure we want to do this?

Well...

You can always take it off if you don't like it.

Jewish girls like me are always at the bottom of the pile.

Being a Pole, it's like being even further.

Some people's opinions will simply never change.

You can...

put on the beautiful makeup,

the clothes,

the jewelry...

and none of it matters.

Unlike you and Robert, my work...

is always cut out for me.

There.

- Wow. - Hello.

Don't you two make a fine pair.

Doesn't she look lovely?

Yes, she does.

Right. Well, we are going shopping.

Are we not? Indeed.

I've, uh... I've fixed lunch.

I can see. It's wonderful.

Keep your father out of trouble.

Bye.

Save some.

More food for us, huh?

Alright.

Where are you going?

Robert.

I love that you kept your maiden name.

I'm sure I know the answer, but for fun,

how did Robert's parents take it?

Oh, really well.

The one thing his mother has never forgiven me for, though

is that Catherine took my surname, Nicholson.

Women will change the world for the better.

I tend to agree.

We need to issue a universal call to women.

We assert our power as a source

more meaningful than man,

or meaningful than God.

Thank you.

Could you get that?

You know there's plenty of room.

I'll, uh...

I'll be in the study.

I brought you some tea.

I hate the moon.

And I hate it worse when it's...

cruel...

and round and bright.

You can't make out the marks on its stupid face.

You have the power to understand...

to forgive,

to love,

and that, more than anything,

is what you should be putting into your writing.

And what does the remarkable Miss Riding seek?

I seek the truth...

literally, without gloss,

without any gloss.

True poetry.

And what is true poetry to you?

True poetry makes the hairs stand on end,

turn to constrict

and a shiver to run down your spine.

Sit with me.

I think it looks better like this.

Yes.

Yes, the... the... the flow is much better.

I want you to do something for me.

I want you to write something here.

The first thing that comes to your mind.

As I walked out of that sultry, that...

I heard the stroke of one.

The moon

attained to her full light

still beaming like the sun,

to mute the scent,

of love's defeat,

whose tryst

had now begun.

I can't remember exactly how I felt

to see these two of you there.

Relief? Hope?

What I did know was that I needed someone

to share the heaviness of our life together

and here she was, Laura Riding,

our redeemer.

Laura had become 100 times more important to us

than we had ever hoped and

I couldn't remember a time when she wasn't with us.

Thank you.

Nice use of color.

I'm going to try and sell it

at the market at the weekend in Oxford.

Hopefully, I get a good price for it.

Is everything all right?

Yes.

Catherine,

not many take kindly to people going through their things.

Let's save this for when you're a bit older. Okay?

Now...

do you believe that some people have magical powers?

Yes, Miss Laura.

That's how I knew you were up here in my room.

Let's see if you really believe.

If you step out of this window,

a magical staircase will come and take you all the way down

but only if you really believe.

Do you believe in the staircase?

I do, Miss Laura.

Good girl.

Now go on.

Go on.

I was just testing you.

You did well.

You believed in the staircase.

But be careful.

If we tell anybody about our magic,

policemen will come and take us away.

It's our secret.

Yes?

Good girl.

I can't be dead!

I won't be dead!

Why?!

Why am I dead?!

Why?!

I won't be dead! I won't be dead!

- Robert. - Why?!

Robert, listen to me.

- Look at me. - I'm alive.

- I'm alive. - Look at me.

It's me. It's Laura.

You're okay.

- Daddy. - It's all right.

Daddy just had a bad dream.

Laura.

Laura, just stay with me.

Robert's asleep.

Finally.

As is Catherine.

What's this for?

Mr. Broader commissioned a female nude.

Horny old turd.

I don't know if I'm happy with it though.

I always tend to draw the female form

slightly plumper than it is.

Can you lose the...

Can you lose the curtain?

Robert.

What?

You stayed with me while I slept.

I have, um, written something for you.

"Your phantom wore the moon's cold mask,"

my phantom wore the same.

Forgetful of the fevers task in and hope of-

which they can, each image hold the other's eyes

and watched a gray distraction rise to cloud the...

"eager flame."

Your Riding is getting stronger.

Clearer.

I want you to be everything... to me.

And I to you.

I wonder how the limitless your devotion is.

Is Robert a good lover?

If he is,

I don't bring it out in him.

He's been through so much.

He relies on me for everything.

I feel like he's become a burden.

You don't have to bear that burden alone.

Yes, our good friends.

You're a rather enviable man, Robert.

And how is that?

American women, I understand, are very forward

and experienced in certain ways for them.

Say what mean, man.

Uh. Two women under one roof.

No wonder you want to be far from prying eyes

of London, how do you find time to write?

Laura and I are collaborators, nothing more.

But she's a friend.

- That's interesting. - Graves, you're such a prick.

Robert.

Had you forgotten about me?

Never. No. I was just catching up with old chums.

Isn't it fantastic to see Robert in such good form?

We were just discussing it.

Mm. What gentlemen.

English gentleman.

Ms. Riding, may I have a word in private?

Be careful, Eliot.

I understand you're looking to get your book published.

Yes. Yes.

I'm looking forward to finding somebody who understands

and champions it for everything that it is.

Furnished me with more details, perhaps I can help.

Perhaps, we could meet, later on.

You could read me a chapter.

I'm not staying too far from you.

Well, think about it.

I'm so happy to see you back on your feet.

Your book will be a success.

Our book, I owe it all to Laura.

Right. Laura. Quite the champion you are, Graves.

Now, I've received a cable from your old friend,

- T.E Lawrence. - How is he?

- I think about him often. - Quite well.

A biography of his life has been commissioned.

T and I both agree: you're the man for the job.

It pays 300 pounds.

Uh, I, I don't know what to say.

I have six weeks to research and write, however,

so you'd have to write it here in London.

- I-I accept. - Wonderful.

So long as you publish The Closed Caplet?

- Laura's book? - Yes.

Excuse me.

She's American.

She must be spectacular in bed.

I mean, it's not her writing.

What writing?

Let's say I didn't mind her ability to browbeat an audience

into the convention for she upholds a powering class.

Laura's surely the maddest woman I've ever met.

As if Graves wasn't already mad enough by extending

an invitation to a woman he's never met before?

Laura Riding Roughshot.

Real tougher.

So Nancy.

Laura.

All right?

Your friends don't respect me.

Especially, TS Eliot.

He's made it quite clear that

he only wants to help me... if I fuck him.

Men can be quite disappointing.

Although, perhaps none more so than Louis.

Who's Louis?

My husband,

he was a professor at Cornell when I was there,

tried to mould me into a proper faculty wife.

Huh.

I make my own image, nobody moulds me.

I think you are extraordinary.

You do?

Yes.

Storms always frightened me.

It's different this time.

As if we've been singled out by some...

supernatural powers.

Don't you think?

You don't have to rush.

What?

I've, uh, never been naked in front of a woman.

Not even Nancy?

You do the rest.

Good morning?

Morning.

What's the matter?

I'm-I'm ashamed.

Of what?

I took advantage of you.

I'm-I'm sorry.

You didn't.

I did.

Don't be silly.

I want you.

You know that I want you.

I want you physically... emotionally, spiritually.

Did I say physically?

A book on T.E. Lawrence and 300 pounds,

Mm hm.

Can't wait to reach London.

Think about all the possibilities.

Well, I, I think Catherine would hate it.

And I-I'm not sure Nancy would take well to the bad London air.

Nancy is a marvelous woman.

I feel very close to her.

She's very fond of you.

If she knew...

She must never know.

- Of course. - No. No, no.

I mean-I mean it.

Of course.

Daddy! It's been so long I miss you.

- Hello. - Welcome home, oh!

Welcome home.

I trust the launch party was a success.

Yes, the early reviews are very favorable and-oh and I-I

was offered the job of writing T.E. Lawrence's biography.

- No! That's wonderful news. - Thank you.

And I-I trust everything else was a success?

Mm hm.

I don't understand.

Oh good Lord, bloody hell.

This meeting of minds and bodies proved possible for

three people to sustain a modern relationship without any

regard to the formal conventions of society and I can't deny

my happiness as we basked in the glow of our trinity.

Your demons repulsed by Laura's influence.

Hello?

Hello, Cape.

Um, yes. And, um, nearly, uh, nearly packed.

No. No. Catherine will stay here with Nancy.

"Loving in part, I did not see you home."

The words I chose for your voice to speak echoed my voice

with its dry creek.

Now that I love you, now that I recall all the scattered

elements of will that spooked by night, this jealous dreams

"through windows to circle above beds like bats."

"Now that I love you as not before,

the mind clears, to the heart true mercy."

But at my side an early watch you keep

"and all self bruising heads lull to sleep."

Laura is a great natural force like fire or trees

or snow and either one appreciates her or one doesn't.

Can I ask you a question?

Mm hm.

What is it that... Laura does... to please you?

What does she do to make it better?

I know she's beautiful.

She's not just that.

So it's a m-meeting of minds and not just sex.

I'm sorry if I was a bit of a duff.

Right.

Well, you must go to London,

and lend your voice to conversation.

I have loved being your inspiration...

even if it was just for a little while.

- Hi. - Hi.

Call us when you get there.

Oh yeah, yeah.

I'll miss you very much.

Thank you.

We should go in.

"I love, I'm not I. I am my name."

My name is not my name.

"My name is the name."

Oh, wonderful.

- Thank you. - She's the new voice of poetry.

Thank you.

Wine!

Don't you wanna dance?

No thank you. I don't dance.

Tell me, sir, what are you after?

You know, I would ask you the very same question.

We're a-actually thinking of buying a printing press.

Were going to control our work.

Publish those who we deem... important.

As Laura says.

If you're not going to live with passion and creative

instincts then you don't belong in this new world.

The aim is to provide an alternative voice to all

the stale writing that is so prevalent these days.

Would you publish me?

Totally unworthy of our attention.

Congratulations on Lawrence's book.

Sir!

Are you leaving already?

Yes. Well, I think I've seen and heard quite enough.

We haven't even had the chance to talk.

Robert!

Robert. Your master is calling.

- Robert? - Yes.

This is-how was it you say your name?

- Elfriede. - Hm.

I thought she'd be an excellent secretary.

Ah, oh, well, do you have any experience?

A, a little. Yeah.

Can you type?

What's type?

Stenography.

Fantastic. You're hired. See, I can make everyone happy.

Ah. Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry madam.

Ah. Here, let me-

It's fine. Oh. Are you the devil?

I'm sorry?

What's your name?

Geoffrey. Geoffrey Phibbs.

And who invited you?

Uh, uh.

Gate crasher. Spy!

Please, please forgive me for arriving uninvited.

I actually just came to see Laura Riding.

Do you have any idea where I may find her?

- Laura Riding? - Uh, uh.

Give me your palm.

You're not English, Scottish?

Irish.

Uh, look at these lines. And what is it that you do?

A poet, or trying to be, if you may.

And what is it you want with Laura Riding?

Well, I read her latest essay in magazine

and it's changed my life.

Maybe you can introduce me.

Listen up everybody, this is Geoffrey Phibbs.

He wants to meet Laura Riding.

Should I introduce them?

Yes!

Bite.

Geoff! Geoff! Geoff!

Laura Riding, pleasure to meet you.

Go on, shake my hand.

Good morning.

What's the matter?

Have you read Elliot's review of my essay?

No.

He calls my arguments derivative.

- What? - How dare he?

And yet I'm not surprised.

Oh, I had a feeling he would do something like this.

Well, don't make a meal of it.

I just can't believe that he- he'd compromise our friendship

- by writing such nonsense. - Bah.

Don't let it bother you. We have so much planned.

It doesn't matter what they say one jot.

Where are you off to?

Oh, Cape has been screaming at me to finish my short

stories, so I'd better get to it.

Will I read it once you're done?

Oh no, there's no need.

Elfriede has been typing it up and running it over as we go

along, so I'm... I'm sure it will be up to our joint standards.

She has a nice body.

She's attracted to you.

Well, I don't see anyone but you.

Hm.

Oh, he's here. Can you answer the door while I get dressed?

- Who's here? - Geoffrey.

You know, from the party.

The young poet. Irishman.

- Ah, Yes. - He's coming to stay with us.

Why?

There.

Right.

A collection of Poems from Ezra Pound.

Next.

It's Robert Frost.

That's fine.

Ah.

T.S. Eliot.

Mm hm.

It's a pity, such a nice man.

Give it to me.

Geoffrey, these books that have passed muster,

they are now the common property of Size and Press,

we'll add them to our library.

I'm sorry, what- what's Size and Press?

Size and Press is the name of our new company,

where only the most interesting voices will be heard.

- Right. - And now that we've dealt with

your books, we should address your clothing.

What about my clothing?

Well, it must be burned with the rest of these.

Let's start with your shirt.

You know, Geoffrey, I think our first assignment should

be a dictionary of exact meanings.

Exact meanings?

Yes. One word, one definition.

That was meant to be our next project.

So one definition for every word.

Um, that doesn't make any sense.

Well, consider the word 'woman', which is derived from wifmon,

a non-male, a-a female man, as it were.

An arbitrary term without defining,

a thing perceived amongst other things such as a horse,

a cat, a dog.

Shall we have a toast?

I'll explain more in the morning.

To the holy circle, a new literary group.

"Beware, madam, of the witty devil,"

the arch intriguer who walks disguised in a poet's cloak,

"his gay tongue oozing evil."

Let's see.

"Would you be a muse?"

"He will so declare you, pledging his blind allegiance,"

yet remained secret and uncommitted.

Poets are men, are single-hearted lovers who adore

and trust beyond all reason,

who die honorably at the gates of hell.

The muse alone is licensed to do murder and to betray.

Weeping with honest tears,

she thrones each victim...

in her...

"paradise."

I think you need a break.

Where is Robert?

He went out for the evening.

This has never happened to me before.

You just need to relax.

Yeah.

It's all about willpower.

You see that clock over there?

Look.

I can will it to stop if I want to.

Geoffrey.

Nancy... how I've missed you.

Our time apart has been far too long.

You simply must bring Catherine to London to pay us a visit.

She will enjoy the city,

and Robert will be happy to see you both.

Not as happy as I will be

to have us all reunited... together.

Oh!

- Finally up. - Ah, good morning.

We're going to have visitors today, so you should

- get yourself together. - What visitors?

Mmm.

- What... - Too late.

Train was on time.

Hello! Nancy, this is, um-

this is our new friend, Geoffrey Phibbs.

He's a very talented young poet,

and he's been living here with us.

How do you do?

Geoffrey, this- this is my wife and my daughter.

- Where is she? - Catherine,

- say hello to Geoffrey. - Hello.

She's shy.

You aren't going to say anything?

I think he's in shock.

Right, well, we were on that train for ever such a long time.

I think Catherine might need to stretch her legs.

Catherine, come with me. To the park we go.

Geoffrey, would you- would you like to join us?

Um, yes, certainly.

- Uh, I'll just follow you out. - Very well.

Hello. I missed you.

Oh... Nancy, no.

No, uh, I'm not that way.

Robert needs you.

You have to focus all your energy on Robert right now.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Hmm.

Meet our champion drinker.

What can I say, Robert, I'm Irish.

It's not the only thing he's good at.

Mmm!

Oof!

Dance with me. Dance with me. Dance with me.

Be careful with her, Robert.

Uh... thank you for a splendid evening.

What?

Goodnight.

Not tonight.

A modern relationship without any regard

for formal conventions.

Could I have been so blind, Robert?

I decided that evening to chart my own course.

As you know, matters took a more... complicated turn,

if that was even possible.

Permission to come aboard.

Hello. Permission granted.

I heard you were living here,

wanted to see how you're getting on.

Look at this! I like it, it's lovely.

Uh, do you need any help?

Yes, um, perhaps that box because I need it.

- Dublin. - Pardon?

- Have you ever been? - No.

Uh, you should go.

There's plenty of things for you to paint over there.

I'll bear that in mind.

You're very good, by the way.

Oh, thank you.

So how's your writing coming along, are you a poet yet?

Uh... I don't know if I am a poet.

My own verses have earned me nothing but rejection slips.

And besides, I have been working on a dictionary.

- A dictionary? Oh! - Mm-hmm!

But only words with exact meanings would be included.

Are you up to the challenge?

Uh, I feel like Laura's just using me like a pencil.

I'm sure.

Your husband

- is an extraordinary writer. - Yes.

I've learned a great deal from him.

I thought Laura was your mentor?

Well, she is, but I consider Robert my friend as well.

Well, Laura finds you acceptable,

you'll be Robert's best friend.

She and Robert are very close...

- collaborators. - Lovers.

I could use a shot of whiskey.

Well, I can help you with that.

- Oh, we go. - Well equipped.

Tea cups. Not fancy here.

Thank you.

Here we are.

To you.

To your new home.

Mmm.

You know, Robert does miss you, and Catherine.

I'm sure he does, but Robert needs his space

and Laura's the only one allowed to fill it at the moment.

You know, we're not too far.

Perhaps this is all my fault anyway,

but I encouraged it.

He was struggling and we invited Laura

to come and stay, and she woke him up.

You're also very honest with each other?

I wonder if the word honesty has an exact meaning.

Yes.

- Davidoff for you, sir. - Thank you.

Well, I've been thinking, since the release of the Lorentz book,

interest in the Great War has never been higher.

You should consider writing

about your experiences on the front.

London is working on a memo I sold.

If I write another book,

it would take place in Ancient Rome.

Murder, mystery, intrigue, violence, sex. You know.

Yes, of course. Well, you're right about that.

I'm sure it would be a bestseller, but...

I believe that you could write something

memorable and meaningful for the people of this country.

Give it some thought.

So... you're enjoying the money from the Lorentz book.

Thank you.

The success you craved was at hand.

It's a funny life, isn't it?

Your exiled yourself to a private world

in which Laura was the only authority.

The more she failed at her writing,

the more you devoted yourself to her.

Love did blind you Robert.

As you wrote to me during our courtship,

when a dream is born in you

and you wish the dream to be true,

be careful though with sudden clutch.

You'll hurt the delicate things you prize so much.

Aw. Right, here we go.

Hm!

Shouldn't you be getting back to work right now?

Ah, such a nice day! Why waste it with work, eh?

So, I have hidden a ball somewhere on this barge.

If you can find it in the time allocated,

there will be a special treat in store for you.

Go, go find it.

You're wonderful with that.

Oh.

I wish I didn't have to leave.

Laura's being so aggressive.

She's always expecting something from me.

Then assert yourself. Say no.

I think I should go back to Dublin.

My father keeps asking me to come home.

What's keeping you here?

I wish it were that simple.

Besides, I enjoy our afternoons together

more than anything, as brief as they are.

Don't try your odds on me.

You're most attractive.

I find you attractive as.

Right, stop that.

I can't be a continuous player in this drama.

I won, I found the ball, yay!

Nancy is trying to destroy the holy circle.

Holy circle.

I just came here to see if Geoffrey was all right.

- Where's Catherine? - She's at your sister's.

And as for this holy circle, I want nothing to do with it.

- Do you understand? - Could one of you please

enlighten me as to what this is all about?

Nancy has been poisoning his mind against me.

I know the two of you have been spending

an awful lot of time together.

I see everything. Everything. Nothing escapes me.

She's probably just running an errand or something.

Oh, don't be an idiot. You know, this is your fault.

- My fault? - Exactly.

If you were spending enough time with your wife,

then I could be in bed with Geoffrey right now...

Oh, don't you dare pass judgment on my marriage.

If either of you had actually spoken to Geoffrey,

you'd realize that he's deeply unhappy and he wants to

- go back to Dublin. - Find him.

Find him? But where exactly do you propose I start looking?

I don't fucking know, but why don't you start?

Find him.

This is a mess.

- Back in the morning- - She's mad.

If I either of you had bothered to talk...

I'll be back shortly.

Just me.

I've just come to collect my things.

I'm gonna be staying with my auntie in Putney.

You caused quite the commotion.

Where's Laura and Robert?

Well, Robert went out to look for you

and Laura locked herself in her bathroom eight hours ago.

Maybe I should talk to her.

Laura, you're a very strong-minded woman.

You ask me to give up everything to come here

and work with you.

You then enticed me into your bed and...

I hate it. I hate it.

I-I hate it because I feel that I'm in between the two of you

in a way that I don't...

and I suspect Robert doesn't even understand.

Laura brought you out of ob-obscurity.

And-And this is how you repay her?

By leaving?

Do you have no sense of her holiness?

Who do you think she is? The fucking pope?

- A goddess! - Robert, Geoffrey,

- this isn't helping. - What I know is this bastard

has turned up out of nowhere and spoiled everything!

He's a selfish prick who'd prefer to run back

to his beloved island than stay with us!

I prefer to be with neither you nor Laura,

if the truth be told.

If any here deserves any consideration, it's Nancy.

She's the only honest, understanding person here,

which makes my decision to leave all the more difficult.

You're a liar and a sponger!

You couldn't give a damn about Nancy!

And more to the point, she doesn't care about you!

Ask her.

You're fucking lying.

Robert, for God's sake, can't you see?

First, Laura wanted you, now she wants me.

To have me, to posses me, to-to-to fuck me!

She thinks she's God.

Stay away from her before she destroys you.

I will kill you. I'll kill you.

Robert, Robert, no don't, don't, Geoffrey.

Bloody, mental Robert.

Stop it! Robert, stop it!

Get off him.

Laura, help me! Get off him!

Goodbye, chaps.

Laura!

Laura!

Hello, Windsor? I need an ambulance.

Yes, 3580 Square

He's been doing so well, so well.

Catherine!

What are we going to do about Robert?

His fight is his own front.

It's the only place for a true gentleman.

I was left for dead during the Battle of the Somme.

As a shell splinted my lungs,

and so they marked me dead the day I turned 21.

They counted me as dead, did they?

The day my childhood slipped away,

and manhood begun.

Robert!

He's badly bruised,

but he seems to have escaped serious injury.

It's a different story with the American woman.

Her spine are not broken, suffered a severe contortion.

I must emphasize that the spinal cord is intact

which means that paralysis is unlikely.

We'll be performing surgery to relieve the pressure,

and afterwards, she'll need long period of convalescence.

I'm afraid that's all I can say at this time.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

Thank you.

The police had to question Mr. Graves,

and charges of attempted murder are expected to be forthcoming.

Hm. There is more Ms. Riding with Mary

before she arrived in England.

"And allegations of untoward behavior"

with an American professor

"who's been forced to resign his position."

Oh, Robert.

You are very excellent and truthful person

drowning in a quagmire.

Hello?

Where is Catherine?

She's still at her aunt's.

Right.

And I'll take her back to World's End.

What must she think?

Can't choose your parents, can you?

Don't.

Don't say that.

You've done a wonderful job with her.

Listen.

I want to stay.

I want to help you raise Catherine.

If you'll let me.

Yes.

How are you?

Tired.

- How is Catherine? - Fine. She's fine.

I told her you went on holiday.

I didn't know what else to say.

I need to get Catherine back to World's End.

We are going to leave the day after tomorrow.

Geoffrey going with you?

He is.

I did not deny

anything about how good we were together.

And Catherine proves it, we were good.

Hm.

Was it all worth it?

I almost loved her.

I never worshiped her.

I made you something

so that you would always have Catherine near you.

Has her dress and her bonnet and the curls on her head

and I'm sure it has her kind heart.

You are a great writer,

with or without Laura Riding.

I haven't had the courage to look at myself yet.

There's a mirror in there.

Will you get it?

Sure.

Put it away.

Oh, what have I done?

There's usually a staircase that takes me away.

This time it wasn't there.

Forgive me.

There's nothing to forgive you for.

I guess ever since I read your poems since that day in Wilton,

I knew that we were destined to be together.

I want you to go back to the time before me,

and I want you to forget there ever was a Laura Riding.

The objects of this story are simple enough.

An opportunity for a formal goodbye to you,

and to you, and to you, and to me, and to all that.

Forgetfulness. Because once all this has been settled

in my mind and written down and published,

it may never be thought about again.

Since the end of the war,

I have been plagued by recurring daydreams of war.

They persist like an alternate life.

It is good to have you back, Graves.

I concur.

I've long regarded poetry as a vocation,

though I never fully understood

why the poet falls in love absolutely

and is true love is for him, the embodiment of the new

I would seem to be denying you in your true quality

of one living invisibly against kind,

as dead beyond event.

And yet the silence is false

if it makes the book seem to have written forward

from where I was, instead of backwards from where you are.

How we went together to the land

where the dead parade the streets,

and there met with demons,

and returned with the demons still treading behind.

That was the beginning of the end,

and the end, and the after is yours.

This does all feel like destiny

and I hope that everyone understands

the unbelievable story that it was

and that nothing's perfect.

That she made your poetry more precise is true.

That her strength has helped you control your demons, I accept.

That she helped you to write goodbye

to all that is unarguable.

You paid her bills and you supported us,

but Robert, at what cost?

With love, Nancy.

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