All language subtitles for Brideshead Revisited - S01E05 - A Blow upon a Bruise

In the winter of 1924,

I returned to England.

Lady Marchmain
had written to me in Paris

to tell me that Sebastian

would complete his
Levantine tour with Mr. Samgrass

in time to spend Christmas
with his family.

She invited me to Brideshead.

Christmas with my uncle,
however,

was an engagement
I could not break.

So it was two days later
that I traveled across country

expecting to find Sebastian
already established.

Thank you. Thank you.

And those two over there,
if you would be so kind.

No, no, no,
those two over there.

Charlesl.

Happy Christmas,

or should I say, happy New Year?

Happy New Year, Mr. Samgrass.

Sebastian, what are you doing
on the train?

I thought you were going
to be home for Christmas.

There was a delay.

It was the luggage.

Mr. Atkinson at Cooks

promised it would arrive
by the 24th,

but unfortunately-
Yes, um, thank you.

How was Egypt?

I'll tell you later.

Happy New Year, certainly.

This one is when we reached
the top of the pass.

We heard the galloping horses
behind,

and two soldiers came
to the head of the caravan

and turned us back.

There they are on the right.

They reached us
only just in time.

There was a band
not a mile ahead.

A band?

Goodnessl A jazz band?

Dear Lady Julia, no.

I suppose the sort of folk music

you get in those parts
is very monotonous.

Dear Lady Marchmain,
a band of brigands.

The mountains are full of them,

stragglers from Kemal's army,

Greeks who got cut off
in the retreat.

Very desperate fellows,
I assure you.

Charles.

Do pinch me.

So you never got
to wherever it was.

Weren't you terribly
disappointed, Sebastian?

Me? Me?

Oh, I don't think
I was there that day.

Was I, Sammy?

That was the day you were ill.

Yes, that was the day
that I was ill,

so I shouldn't have got
to wherever it was.

Should I, Sammy?

Sorry.

Now this, Lady Marchmain,

was our Turkish cook,
Ali Torkut.

That's him on the left.

That's me at Damascus.

That's me with a rather tiresome
Turkish youth.

This is a group
taken near Jericho, I think.

No, Jerusalem.

All ruins and mules and you.

Where's Sebastian?

Ah.

He-he held the camera.

He became quite an expert
as soon as he learned

not to put his hand
over the lens,

didn't you, Sebastian?

This is us, taken by
a street photographer in Beirut.

There's Sebastian.

Goodness,
isn't that Anthony Blanche?

Yes, we saw quite a lot of him.

Met him by chance
at Constantinople.

A delightful companion.

I can't think
how I missed knowing him.

Here we are again
at Krak des Chevaliers.

There's Anthony againl.

Yes, he came with us
all the way to Beirut.

Well, that's it, I'm afraid.

Thank you, Mr. Samgrass.

It must have been
a wonderful tour for you both.

May I have a word with you,
Bridey?

But of course, Mother.

It must have been
an extraordinary trip.

Yes.

Did you ride a camel?

Uh...

I don't know. Probably.

Will you tell me about Paris,
Charles?

Well, it's not very exciting
in comparison,

but it's going very well.

When are you going
to come and stay, Sebastian?

You'll like it.

I suppose they all think
you're wonderful over there.

Well, it's amazing,

but I don't seem
to have put a foot wrong.

The teachers are very good.

I'm not sure about the students.

They never go near the Louvre.

Half of them are only interested

in making a popular splash
like Picabia,

and the other half just want
to do advertisements for Vogue

and decorate nightclubs.

Charles?

Modern art is all bosh,
isn't it?

Great bosh, Cordelia.

Oh, I am glad.

Cordelia, why don't you run away

and leave us in peace?

Aren't you at all pleased
to be home?

Yes, of course I'm pleased.

Well, you might show it.

I've been looking forward to it
so much.

How extraordinary,

your running into
Anthony Blanche.

Yes, wasn't it?

Dear old Antoine.

Quite like old times.

Excuse me, my lord.

I say, where's
the cocktail tray?

Isn't it time
they brought it in?

It's still a bit early.

Mr. Wilcox is upstairs
with her ladyship, my lord.

Well, never mind.
Bring it in yourself.

Mr. Wilcox has the keys,
my lord.

Well, send him in
the moment he comes down.

Very good, my lord.

Yes, extraordinary
meeting Anthony like that.

He's very changed.

You wouldn't
have recognized him.

He'd grown a great beard
in lstanbul.

Where the hell is Wilcox?

Very unbecoming,

and I made him shave it off.

Well, I don't think
I want a cocktail, anyway.

I'll go up and see Nanny,

and then I'll have my bath.

Ah, Charles.
Can you give me a moment?

There's something
I've got to explain.

Of course.

Mother's given orders

that no drinks are to be left
in any of the rooms.

You'll understand why.

If you want anything,
ring and ask Wilcox.

Only best wait
until you're on your own.

I'm sorry, but there it is.

Is that really necessary?

I gather very necessary.

You may or may not have heard,

Sebastian had another outbreak
when he got back to England.

He was lost over Christmas.

Mr. Samgrass only found him
yesterday evening.

I guessed something
of the sort must have happened.

Are you sure this is
the best way of dealing with it?

It's my mother's way.

Oh, do have a drink yourself
if you want

now that he's gone upstairs.

It would choke me.

Hello, Nanny.
I was looking for Sebastian.

I thought he might be here.

I told him he was looking peaky.

All that foreign food,

I don't suppose
it agreed with him.

He looked as though he's been
having some late nights too

by the look of his eyes.

Dancing, I suppose.

And his shirt wanted darning.

I told him to bring it here
to me

before it goes to the wash.

Thank you, Nanny.

Oh, it's you.

You gave me a fright.

So you got a drink.

I don't know what you mean.

Oh, come on, you don't
have to pretend with me.

You might offer me one.

It's just a little something
I had in my flask.

It's empty now.

What's going on?

Nothing.

A lot.

I'll tell you sometime.

Well, I'd better go
and get changed.

It is certainly true,
Lady Marchmain,

about the Levantine cuisine.

It can have
the most alarming aspects

for the uninitiated.

When we were dining with
the patriarch of Trebizond,

we were offered
that most special delicacy:

The eye of the sheep
in a bed of couscous.

How very disgusting.

Indeed, I was struggling
to find my demotic Greek for,

"I like sheep's eye,

but sheep's eye
doesn't like me."

You seem to have borne
your hardships very well,

Mr. Samgrass.

Yes.

Who's hunting tomorrow?

I am.

I'm taking that horse of yours,
Julia, if you don't mind.

Just to show him to the hounds.

Mm, that's all right.

I think Rex is arriving
sometime tomorrow.

I suppose I'd better
stay in and see him.

Sorry. Bit late.

I've promised an outing
on Mr. Beelzebub tomorrow.

Really, Cordelia, what an
unfortunate name for a pony.

You don't get the point, Mummy.

Sister Bridget said that
if you can ride the devil,

you can ride anything.

Where is this meat? Is it here?

Yes, it is.

Well, if it's here,
I'd like to hunt, please.

That's if there's
something for me.

Of course. Be delighted.

I would have asked you,
Sebastian,

but you always used to complain
of being made to go out.

Well, tomorrow I'd like to.

It's perfectly simple then.

You can have Tinker Bell.

She's been going very nicely
this season.

No, thank you.

I'll have whiskey, please.

I'm so glad you're going out
tomorrow, Sebastian.

A day out will be so good
for you.

Mr. Samgrass was telling me
how you both stood up

to the hardships of your journey
together.

I had no idea you had to endure
such discomfort.

Has he?

I was explaining about the time

we were held
at the Turkish border

and had to share
the guards' supper.

Don't you remember?

Oh, yes, of course,

the guards' supper.

Are you going
to chapel tonight, Mummy?

No, no. I don't think so.

I think an early night
will do us all good.

Someone remind me to write out
a note for the stables.

I think Tinker Bell will
suit you very well, Sebastian.

You won't let me down
tomorrow, promise?

You will try and look smart?

Of course.

I rather wish I was coming out
with you tomorrow.

You wouldn't see much sport.

I can tell you
exactly what I'm going to do.

I shall leave Bridey
at the first cover,

hack across to the nearest pub,

and spend the entire day

quietly soaking
in the bar parlor.

They treat me
like a dipsomaniac.

They can bloody well have
a dipsomaniac.

I hate hunting, anyway.

Well, I can't stop you.

You can, as a matter of fact.

By not giving me any money.

They stopped my banking account,
you know, in the summer.

It's been one
of my chief difficulties.

I pawned my watch
and cigarette case

to ensure a happy Christmas.

So I shall have to come to you
tomorrow

for my day's expenses.

I won't.

You know perfectly well I can't.

Won't you, Charles?

Oh, well, I daresay
I'll manage on my own somehow.

I got pretty clever at that
recently,

managing on my own.

I've had to.

Sebastian, what have you
and Mr. Samgrass been up to?

He told you at dinner.

Ruins and guides...

and mules,

that's what Sammy's been up to.

And you?

I suppose
I may as well tell you,

since he unfortunately seems
to have been very indiscreet

about my happy Christmas.

I gave Sammy the slip.

I had begun to guess.

I got lucky at cards
in Constantinople,

and I was just enjoying
a very happy hour in a bar

when who should walk in
but Anthony Blanche

with a beard and a very pretty
little Jew boy.

Anthony lent me a tenner

to help me escape...

just before Sammy
came panting in to recapture me.

After that he wouldn't let me
out of his sight.

But in Athens, it was easy.

We stayed in the legation.

One day after lunch,
I simply walked out,

cashed the money at Cooks,

found a sailor
who spoke American,

lay up with him
until his ship sailed,

and popped back
to Constantinople.

That was that.

And didn't Sammy mind?

He was a bit anxious at first.

I didn't want him to get

the entire
Mediterranean Fleet out,

so I cabled him saying,
"I'm quite well.

"Please send half the money
to the Ottoman Bank

and keep the rest for yourself."

- Poor old Sammy.
- Poor old Sammy.

I almost feel sorry for him.

In the end I think
he quite enjoyed himself

in his own ghastly little way.

So here I am.

After Christmas.

Yes.

I was determined
to have a happy Christmas.

Did you?

I think so.

Don't remember much about it.

That's always a good sign,
isn't it?

Sebastian?

Sebastian?

You can't go dressed like that.

Do go and change.

You look so lovely
in your hunting clothes.

They're all locked away
somewhere.

Gibbs couldn't find them.

That's a fib.

I helped get them out myself
before you were called.

You promised me.

There are all sorts of bits
missing.

Well, it just encourages
the Strickland-Venables.

They've been behaving rottenly.

They've even taken their grooms
out of top hats.

You see.

They won't even trust me
that far.

It's they who are mad, not me.

Good morning.

Now you can't refuse me money.

More.

Sebastianl.

Lunch.

Good morning, Sebastian.

So Sebastian
is in pursuit of the fox,

and our little problem
is shelved for an hour or two.

I heard all about
your grand tour last night.

Ah, I rather supposed
you might have.

I did not harrow our hostess
with all that.

After all, it turned out

far better than
anyone had any right to expect.

I did feel, however,

that some explanation
was due to her

for Sebastian's
Christmas festivities.

You may have observed last night

that there were certain
precautions.

I did.

You thought them excessive?

I am with you.

Particularly as they tend
to compromise the comfort

of our own little visit.

I have seen Lady Marchmain
this morning.

You must not suppose
I am just out of bed.

I have had a little talk
upstairs with our hostess.

I think we may hope
for some relaxation tonight.

Yesterday was not an evening

that any of us
would wish to have repeated.

I'm not sure that tonight

is quite the time
to start the relaxation.

Sebastian can come
to no mischief today.

For one thing, he has no money.
I happen to know.

I saw to it.

I even have his watch
and cigarette case upstairs.

He will be quite harmless.

As long as no one is so wicked
as to give him any.

Don't you get bored
with the subject?

Why must everyone
make such a thing about it?

Because we're fond of him.

Well, I'm fond of him too,
in a way, I suppose.

Only I wish he'd behave
like anyone else.

I grew up with one
family skeleton, you know, Papa.

Not to be talked of
in front of the servants,

not to be talked of
in front of us

when we were children.

If Mummy is going to start

making a skeleton
out of Sebastian,

it's too much.

If he wants to be always tight,

why doesn't he go off
to Kenya or somewhere,

where it doesn't matter?

Why does it matter less
being unhappy in Kenya

than anywhere else?

Don't pretend to be stupid,
Charles.

You understand perfectly.

You mean there won't be

so many embarrassing situations
for you?

When do you go to Paris,
Charles?

In about a month.

I think I'm beginning
to miss it.

Now I've got a new studio
on the lle Saint-Louis.

It's up about
six flights of stairs,

but there's a wonderful view.

The light's quite different
in Paris.

I love that part,

the river and Notre Dame.

You must be happy there.

I'm hoping Sebastian
will come and stay with me

when I go back.

That would have been lovely,
Charles.

I hope he will be coming
to stay with me in London.

You know that's impossible.

London is the worst place.

Even Mr. Samgrass
couldn't find him there.

We have no secrets
in this house.

He was lost, you know,
all through Christmas.

Mr. Samgrass only found him

because he couldn't pay the bill
where he was,

so they had to telephone
our house.

It's too horrible.

No, London is impossible.

If he can't behave himself here
with us,

we shall have to keep him

healthy and happy here
for a while

and then send him abroad again
with Mr. Samgrass.

You see, I've been through
all this before.

I hope he's having a good day.

The retort was there,

unspoken,
well understood by both of us:

"You couldn't keep your husband.
He ran away.

So will Sebastian,
because they both hate you."

Thus, with Julia
and Lady Marchmain,

I reached deadlock,

not because we failed
to understand one another

but because we understood
too well.

The subject was everywhere
in the house,

like a fire
deep in the hold of a ship.

I do think-as reference.

Yes.

Mummy, do look
at Rex's Christmas present.

Hello, Rex.

- Mr. Mottram.
- Hello, Samgrass.

Dear me.

I wonder if it eats
the same kinds of things

as an ordinary tortoise.

What will you do when it's dead?

Can you have another tortoise
fitted into the shell?

This slightly obscene object

became a memorable part
of the evening,

one of those
needle-hooks of experience

which catch the attention
when larger matters are at stake

and remain in the mind
when they are forgotten,

so that years later
it is a bit of gilding

or a certain smell
or the tone of a clock ticking

which recall one to a tragedy.

I hope it's dipsomania.

That's simply a great misfortune
we must all help him bear.

What I used to fear was that

he just got drunk deliberately

when he liked
and because he liked.

But that's exactly what he did.

That's what we both did.

That's what he does with me now.

I can keep him to that

if only your mother
would trust me.

If you worry him
with keepers and cures,

he'll be a physical wreck
in a few years.

There's nothing wrong

in being a physical wreck,
you know?

There's no moral obligation

to become a Master of Foxhounds
or postmaster general

or to live to walk ten miles
at 80.

"Wrong," "moral obligation,"

now you're back on religion.

I never left it.

Do you know, Bridey,

if ever I thought about
becoming a Catholic,

I'd only have to talk to you
for five minutes

to be cured.

You manage to reduce

what seem
quite sensible propositions

to stark nonsense.

It's odd you should say that.

I've heard it before
from other people.

It's one of the reasons
why I don't think

I should have made
a good priest.

It's something in the way
my mind works, I suppose.

Send him to Borethus in Zurich.

Borethus is the man.

He performs miracles every day
at that sanatorium of his.

You know how Charlie Kilcartney
used to drink.

No.

No, I'm afraid I don't know
how Charlie Kilcartney drank.

Two wives despaired of him.

When he got engaged to Sylvia,

she made it a condition
that he go to Zurich

and take the cure,
and it worked.

He came back three months later
a different man,

and he hasn't
touched a drop since,

even though Sylvia
walked out on him.

Why did she do that?

Well...

Charlie got to be
a bit of a bore

when he stopped drinking.

But that's not the point
of the story.

No, I suppose, really,

it's meant to be
an encouraging story.

He takes sex cases too,
you know?

Oh, dear,
what very peculiar friends

poor Sebastian
will make in Zurich.

He's booked up for months ahead,

but I think he might find room
if I asked him.

I could telephone him
from here tonight.

I'll think about it.

Fine.

Hellol.

Hello, Rex.

Hi, Cordelia.

Oh, Julia, what's that?

How beastly.

It's my Christmas present
from Rex.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm always putting my foot
in it.

But how cruel.
It must hurt frightfully.

They can't feel.

How do you know?

I bet they can.

I've already had one tea
at Mrs. Barney's,

but I'm still hungry.

It was a spiffing day.

You should have seen
Jean Strickland-Venables

when she fell off in the mud.

Where's Sebastian?

He's in disgrace.

Coming out in that beastly
rat-catcher's coat

and that mean little tie

like something from
Captain Morvin's Riding Academy.

I just didn't recognize him
in the meet,

and I hope nobody else did.

Why? Isn't he back yet?

I expect he got lost.

Poor little thing,
that horrid tortoise.

What are we going to do
about it?

I will deal with it.
Yes, I will.

Lady?

Thank you.

Did I hear Lord Sebastian
come back, Wilcox?

Yes, my lady. He's just arrived.

He rang up from South Twining
to be collected.

He must have stopped for tea
with someone.

South Twining? Who lives there?

He spoke from the hotel,
my lady.

South Twining?

Goodness, he did get lost.

Thank you, Wilcox.

Dear boy, how nice to see you
looking so well again.

Your day in the open
has done you good.

Drinks are on the table.
Do help yourself.

Thank you. I will.

There was nothing unusual
in her speech

but the fact of her saying it.

Six months ago,
it would not have been said.

That horse of yours, Bridey...

it's no damned use.

Couldn't get it over a molehill.

How did you expect me to keep up
with the rest of the field

even if I wanted to?

Don't sit too long, Bridey.

Shall I serve the port, my lord?

Yes, thank you.

Charles, you saw it.

You saw how pathetic it was.

You saw it.

A blow, expected, repeated,

falling on a bruise

with no smart
or shock of surprise,

only a dull and sickening pain

and the doubt whether
another like it could be borne.

That was how it felt
sitting opposite Sebastian

at dinner that night.

You'd best go to bed, Sebastian.

Some port first.

Have some port if you want it,

but don't come
into the drawing room.

Too bloody drunk!

Like olden times.

Gentlemen were always too drunk
to join ladies in olden times.

"April 26th.

"Got some more red enamel paint-

"red, to my mind,
being the best color-

"and painted the coal scuttle

"and the backs
of our Shakespeare,

the binding of which
had almost worn out."

Sebastian's gone to bed.

I think we should go too.

Cordelia? Julia?

Oh, not just yet, Mummy.

I'm staying up for a little.

Come up and see me
before you go to bed.

I shan't be asleep.

Good night, Rex.

Good night, Lady Marchmain.

- Good night, Mother.
- Good night.

Ah, Lady Marchmain, thank you
for reading so delightfully.

Good night, Mr. Samgrass.

Good night, Charles.

Good night, Lady Marchmain.

- Good night, Charles.
- Good night, Cordelia.

Mr. Samgrass, are you coming?

Oh, yes, indeed.
I'm more than ready.

Good night.

Good night.

- Good night.
- Good night.

You're packed, Charles.

What's happening?

I'm going.

Tell me honestly,

you don't want me to stay,
do you?

No, Charles.
I don't believe I do.

I'm no help, am I?

No help.

I'd better go and say good-bye
to your mother.

The problem is,

I've got a tremendous amount
of work to get done

before I go back to Paris.

I'm sorry I'm not able
to stay as long as I'd hoped,

and I hope you'll forgive me
rushing off like this.

Well, then it's good-bye,
Charles.

Good-bye, Lady Marchmain,

and thank you very much
for having me to stay.

Charles,

there's something
I must ask you.

Did you give Sebastian money
yesterday?

Yes.

Knowing how he was likely
to spend it?

Yes.

I don't understand it.

I simply don't understand

how anyone could do something
so callously wicked.

I'm not going to reproach you.

God knows it's not for me
to reproach anyone.

Any failure in my children
is my failure.

But I don't understand it.

I don't understand how
you could have been so nice

in so many ways

and then do something
so wantonly cruel.

I don't understand how
we all liked you so much.

Did you hate us all the time?

I don't understand
how we deserved it.

Good-bye.

I remained unmoved.

There was no part of me

remotely touched
by her distress.

It was as I had often imagined
being expelled from school.

I almost expected
to hear her say,

"I have already written
to inform your unhappy father."

But, as I drove away,

I felt that I was leaving
part of myself behind,

and that wherever
I went afterwards,

I should feel the lack of it

and search for it hopelessly,

as ghosts are said to do.

"I shall never go back,"
I said to myself.

A door had shut,

the low door in the wall

I had sought and found
at Oxford.

Open it now, and I should find
no enchanted garden.

I had come to the surface

into the light of common day
after a long captivity

in the sunless coral palaces
and waving forests

of the ocean bed.

"I have left behind illusion,"
I said to myself.

"Henceforth, I live in a world
of three dimensions

with the aid of my five senses."

I have since learned
that there is no such world.

But then, as the car turned
out of sight of the house,

I thought it took no finding

but lay all about me
at the end of the avenue.