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I can't see the trenches
can be any worse than this.

It's diabolical.

Nice of them to give us a bird.

When they've shot 200?

Yes. Very generous.

Which way are you heading?

I'm on official business.

I'll hang back
when you're giving them the sad news.

They're taking on down at The Choral.

Open auditions.

Blame the war. No men.

Blame it?

Class barrier's coming down. About time.

Mind you...

fat chance of a revolution here.

- Ramsden?
- England.

We're fodder for the mill,

and we'll be fodder for the front.

Sorry, missus.

- Who's it from, Mam?
- The King.

I'm sorry.

- Could've got in there, Lofty.
- No...

Do you think?

Grief. It's an opportunity.

Behind you!

Watch where you're going!
Bloody hooligans.

- Thank you for your kindness.
- No! Thank you.

How many's this?

Twelve? Fourteen?

I've lost count.

Very still.

Mind you,
'tis a special rate for recruits.

I'd be coining it
if they fetched them home.

- Who?
- The dead. I'd be laughing.

Nay, Herbert!

St Matthew Passion. Auditions. Be sharp.

Young man.

Mr Trickett.

Aren't you in the choir at St Wilfred's?

- I was.
- What happened?

Me voice broke.

Can you still sing?

A bit. Why?

Mr Trickett and me
are both in The Choral.

- On the committee.
- We're having auditions. Now.

- At the Jubilee Hall.
- Him and me?

Anybody. Can you sing?

Aye. I can dance too, if necessary.

- Not in the Matthew Passion.
- Don't be shy. We won't eat you.

I might.

I'm not keen, quite honestly,

and, anyway,
they reckon to be quite choosy.

Although, now there's no night school,
I'm going to be at a loose end.

- What happened to night school?
- No teacher. Joined up.

Still, I don't fancy this.

The Choral Society.

- Me neither.
- "Let the people sing"?

What for? You're no further on
when you're done.

You've still got the status quo.

Excuse me, is this where
they're doing the auditions?

- Ramsden Choral Society?
- I believe it is, yes.

In fact, we were just
going in ourselves, weren't we?

Poor wand'ring one

Though thou hast surely strayed

Take heart of grace, thy steps retrace

Poor wand'ring...

Not today, thank you. We're busy.

I've come for the audition. Mary Lockwood.

Take a seat, young lady.

I thought she was collecting.

They always are, the Salvation Army.

Can help thee find true peace of mind...

It's your bonnet.

Puts them off.

- Do you never take it off?
- No.

Not even in bed?

Take any heart but ours

Take heart, fair days will shine

Take any heart...

We're contraltos. Are you a contralto?

I'm... I just like to sing.

Well, you belong over there.
We're not auditioning.

- Are we, Vera?
- No, we're longstanding.

We're the backbone.

Can help thee find true peace of mind

My poor

Wand'ring one

Thank you, Miss Proctor.

Miss Holmes, you're next.

Oh, hello.

This is Clyde's girlfriend.
Missing in action.

- Any news?
- No.

He was the best tenor we ever had.

"Was"? He's only missing.
It's not been confirmed.

He's still my boyfriend.

Yes, he'll turn up.

Not yet, I hope.

I always hold in having it if you fancy it

If you fancy it, that's understood

And suppose it makes you fat?
I don't worry over that

'Cause a little of what you fancy

Does you good

All right, all right.

Before you go on...

there's one or two new faces
in the hall today.

You should introduce yourself.

- What?
- Tell them who you are.

They know who I am.

No. Here.

I'm Alderman Duxbury.
And you all know me from the mill.

But this isn't the mill, it's The Choral.

And we're all equal here.

Oh, yeah?

The person you've got to watch out for
isn't me.

It's the chorus master, Mr Pollard.

Keep on the right side of him
and you won't go far wrong.

The point is, should you be lucky enough
to be selected,

you will be expected
to comport yourselves accordingly.

I hope I make myself plain.

Don't worry, Mr Duxbury,
I've got a sacred side.

I mean, you lad,
you're black bright.

- I've just come from mill.
- Whose mill?

Yours.

All right. Who's next?

Joining up?

Why now?

I feel it's my patriotic duty.

Why don't you wait
for your call-up papers?

It'll still be patriotic.

Well, what about these today?
Do we take them or not?

- Some of the lasses are good.
- It's not lasses we want.

The lads are all right.

"All right"?

"All right"? This is The Choral.

Good strong voices.
They just want a little encouragement.

Well, this is it.

I suppose I'd better...

Joe.

- Vicar.
- God be with you.

- Mr Trickett.
- Good luck, lad.

I hope he puts the wind up the Germans
more than he ever did the sopranos.

Gilbert.

And think on, Gilbert.

Don't be the first.

At what?

Fighting. Anything.

Don't worry about me, Mr Duxbury.
Too smart to get shot.

Oh, God, that's not to say...

- I don't mean...
- Nay, lad.

Off you go and good luck.

We'll find someone to keep us
in shape while you're away.

Ready, Gilbert? Very still.

What about Arthur Fox?

Neville Widdop?

No grip. The Choral needs grip.

There's always Irvine Price.

Not for me there isn't.

Divorced.

I'm going to say a name.

But I don't want to be shot down.

Who's shooting you down?

No one, yet. But when I open my mouth...

What's the matter, Margaret?

I heard voices.

It's the committee, love. I told you.

We're looking for a new chorus master.

Pollard's gone and joined up,
the great barmpot.

Go upstairs, love.

We'll not disturb you.

Go on then, Joe.

What?

Your name. Out with it.

Dr Guthrie.

- What?
- Henry Guthrie.

No. No. No, no.

- He's back.
- I daresay he is.

And, frankly, in other circumstances,

he wouldn't even consider the likes of us.

- Isn't Guthrie...?
- Yes.

He's been living and working in Germany.
By choice.

He had musical opportunities.
You can understand it.

He had musical opportunities here.
But he preferred Germany

as having better choirs.

- Treachery.
- He worked wonders at Leeds.

He was despised.

Folk were terrified.

He's an atheist.

That's why Leeds got rid of him.

Well, there are atheists now.

There's one in Bradford.

Not conducting the Matthew Passion.

I heard his Mozart Requiem.

So did I.

It was wonderful.

You never said.

We can't, Joe.
Not if his sympathies are German.

Besides, there was talk of other things.

What other things?

Let's just say,
I'd prefer a family man.

You'd prefer
the Archbishop of Canterbury.

He'd never come anyway.
He'll be conducting somewhere

they don't care
about his peculiarities.

Liverpool.

He's not.

He's playing
at the Queens Hotel.

You are wasted here.

Well, I like it here. It...

It has perks.

- You know the Matthew Passion?
- I do.

- Goodnight, Dr Guthrie.
- Goodnight, ladies.

- Goodnight.
- We lost our chorus master.

Those days are over.

- Why?
- I have a living to earn.

We all have livings to earn.

But, meanwhile,
there's music to be made.

And you have to realise that if we
were to offer you this post...

- If?
- ...we'd be taking a real risk.

- You lived in Germany.
- For several years.

And that disqualifies me
from conducting a choir?

I'm trying to be reasonable.

Dr Guthrie,
I'm offering you an opportunity.

The Matthew Passion
at Ramsden Town Hall.

Only we need peace of mind.

What did you do it for,
and where do you stand?

With regards
to the St Matthew Passion?

With regards to the war.

"A man should hear a little music,
read a little poetry,

"and see a fine picture
every day of his life,

"in order that worldly cares
may not obliterate

"the sense of the beautiful
which God has implanted

"in the human soul."

That is nice. Who said it?

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

For God's sake, man,
lower your voice.

Why did I stay there?

Wouldn't you stay in a country
of cultured, civilised people?

People who put music
and beauty, art,

at the centre
of everything they do?

The English think
music is just social life

carried on by other means.
I don't.

- I think it's important.
- So do we.

You see,
it was musically motivated.

I would need to have control.

- Control?
- Creatively.

Well, I'm the chairman,
that can't change.

And I always...

I find I'm most often called upon
to sing the tenor solos.

Well, there's no point
disrupting the choir

any more than is necessary.

And I should like to bring
my own pianist.

Unpaid, mind.
We'd be doing him a favour.

We're doing you both a favour,
let's face it.

Not half as much a favour
as you're doing us.

- Thank you for your kindness.
- Where did they say he's from?

He's not from anywhere.

Only he went
and lived in Germany.

I'm afraid this is the end.
I shall be obliged to leave.

He travelled.
So what? People do.

- We don't.
- Well, he did.

- He was interviewed.
- By who?

- A policeman.
- They took him to Ripon.

Aye, and found nothing amiss,
so here he is.

If they found nothing amiss,
young man,

then explain his behaviour
in the public library.

What behaviour?

He goes in to read the papers.
All of them.

Every morning.
And when he's done,

and Miss Pendle goes in
to smooth the sheets,

they're always open
at the same page.

- He's coming!
- What page?

- The naval reports.
- They're all waiting.

Here you are, Dr Guthrie.

The Ramsden Choral Society.

- Is this everybody?
- Pretty much.

For the Matthew Passion?

"My Father, if it's possible,
allow this cup to pass from me."

Although, no doubt,
you sing it in English.

We most certainly do.

This is Mr Horner.

He'll be accompanying you
for today's auditions. Thank you.

I thought we're done
with the auditions?

Not for me, you haven't. And...

that goes for everybody.

- We're the committee!
- No exceptions.

I haven't anything prepared.

Scales will do.

Scales? Us?

He was your choice.

Not too late, am I?

Dear Lord and Father
of mankind

Forgive our foolish ways

Reclothe us in
our rightful mind...

She shouldn't be singing this.

Sacrilege.

He who would true valour see

Let him come hither

One here will constant be

Come wind, come weather

The trumpet shall sound

And the dead shall be raised

And the dead shall be raised

Incorruptible

Angels

Ever bright and fair

Angels

Ever bright and fair

Take, O take me

Well, that was a...
a very stimulating afternoon.

I'm sure I speak
for the entire society when I...

The fact is the Town Hall is booked
and the word is out.

The St Matthew Passion will be performed
in a few short weeks.

Aren't Bacup doing
the Matthew Passion?

They were, but their Jesus went
and joined up.

It's a bit of an old warhorse,
but it's a piece we know.

Some of us can do it
with our eyes closed.

I'd like to hear the chorale.

"O sacred head, sore wounded."

- Page 149.
- On your feet,

please, ladies and gentlemen.

On your feet, please.

And eyes open, if you please.

O sacred head

Sore wounded

Defiled and put to scorn

O Kingly head, surrounded

With mocking crown of thorn

What sorrow mars thy...

Don't stop!

Don't stop. Sing on, sing on!

Can death thy bloom deflow'r?

O countenance

Whose splendour

The hosts of heav'n

Adore

Any message?

It says "Hun muck".

Bach? Hun muck? Bach?

- Call the police.
- I wouldn't bother.

The way you were singing,
it was probably a critic.

- He is German, I suppose.
- Who?

- Bach.
- So, that's it, is it?

Even sung in English,
Bach is out?

Bricks through the window.

There's a danger
to life and limb.

Never heed.

- There's plenty of alternatives.
- Such as?

- Beethoven, obviously.
- German, obviously.

Handel.

Well, he ended up English,
but he started off German.

Well, I suppose it depends
how much of a pedant our brick thrower is.

- Mendelssohn?
- German.

And Jewish.

There's Brahms, of course,
who I've met.

But he, alas, is also... a Hun.

We could be in the pub now,

instead of hanging about here
arguing the toss.

He's a bit posh,
is that pianist.

- He's refined.
- That's what I said.

I said he was refined.

- Any news of Clyde?
- No.

That's good.

Ask Lofty, news is the one thing
you don't want.

My mother thinks you know.

She thinks if you love someone,
you can just tell.

- Do you?
- Which?

Know.

- Did you really meet him?
- Who?

- Brahms.
- Well, I...

I had that privilege.
Although it was in Germany,

so you might not think it
a suitable topic for conversation.

What was he like?

"Free but lonely."
It was something he wrote.

I wish we were doing
his Requiem.

And then they'd really have something
to throw bricks about.

There must be someone
they don't object to.

Have you considered, Mr Duxbury,

that it might be me
that folk object to?

- Just as much as the music.
- That's as maybe.

But you're our chorus master.

Only...

What?

For God's sake, man,
rein in the bloody German.

Elgar.

Elgar.

Him from Pomp and Circumstance?

Amongst other things.

He started off as an organist,
same as me.

Have you met him and all?

This is Elgar.

- That's right enough.
- "Right enough"?

In Germany, he's a god.
He's up there with Wagner.

- Elgar?
- It isn't all marches.

He wrote an oratorio
a few years back.

It premiered
in Birmingham Town Hall.

- The Dream of Gerontius.
- News to me.

Predictably, the audience hated it.
If it hadn't been religious,

it would have been
booed off the stage.

- I loved it.
- Why did they hate it?

Hadn't been rehearsed properly.
Of course, Gerontius is a tenor.

Sanctus fortis, Sanctus Deus

De profundis oro te

Miserere...

Could we do it?

In terms of permission, or skill?

- Either. Both.
- I'll write to him.

Meanwhile,
we have to face facts.

It needs a huge chorus
and male voices are at a premium,

so we must recruit.

Fine, but no riff-raff.

Do you want a choir, Mr Duxbury,
or do you want a Sunday School?

Have any of you got any pals,
any young men who can sing?

Does it matter where?
I've got one sings in a pub.

He can sing in a brothel,
as far as I'm concerned.

That is the final straw.

Singing is a kind of exposure

and if I'm going
to be letting my hair down,

I don't want to be
next to my window cleaner's wife.

Excellent work today, contraltos.

Thank you, Dr Guthrie.

Now, surely you ladies
know one or two gentlemen

who can swell our numbers?

- There's my husband.
- Does he sing?

He'll do as he's told.

It's a long way to Tipperary

It's a long way to go...

Over there.

To the sweetest girl I know!

- You're coming in?
- I certainly am.

I'm used to pubs.
I just wave my tin.

All right.

Farewell, Leicester Square

It's a long, long way
to Tipperary

But my heart's right there

I think he'll... he'll do.
And these three too.

- Mitch, this is Dr Guthrie.
- Doctor? Why, who's poorly?

- From The Choral.
- Well, they won't want me.

- I live down Theaker Lane.
- I don't know where people live.

A choral society
shouldn't mirror the social order.

It should transcend it.

Thank you for your kindness.

- Hello. Are you in it?
- I might be.

I like the way you rattle
your tin.

Makes me want to put a penny
in your slot.

Yes. And me to give you
a crack across the face.

She doesn't like you, Mitch.

Well, I'll have to join
the choir then, won't I, Ellis?

Tommy, what you having?

Haven't you done it before?
The Dream of Gerontius?

- Why did you not say?
- Because it was in Nuremberg.

It seems like everything good
that happened to you,

happened in Nuremberg.

Will he give his permission,
do you think, Elgar?

He will if I write to him.

The man may be our greatest
living composer

but he's a fellow musician,
however grand.

Artists are like that, Robert,
they notice each other.

They connect.

Well, not all of them.

Sing?

They're not in a state to sing,
most of them.

What have they got to sing about?
They're convalescent.

They don't want to waste
their energy on singing.

This gentleman wants to know
if any of you can sing?

Have you got a piano?

Three little maids from school
are we

Pert as a schoolgirl
well can be

Filled to the brim
with girlish glee

Three little maids from school

Everything is a source of fun

Nobody's safe
for we care for none

Life is a joke
that's just begun

Three little maids from school

Three little maids who,
all unwary

Come from a ladies' seminary

Freed from its genius tutelary

Three little maids from school

Three little maids from school

Morning, Podge. This gentleman
wants to know if you can sing.

- Sing what?
- Anything, surprise me.

In good King Charles's
golden days

When loyalty no harm meant

A zealous high churchman was I

And so I got preferment

Not bad.

- The song?
- The bun.

We can work on the other.

Praise

To the Holiest

In the height and in the...

Sopranos.
Your "A"s, as in "praise".

Ecstasy, not apathy. Again.

Praise

To the Holiest in the height

Proclaim the word, "praise".
The note will be there.

- Again.
- Again?

Again.

Jesu, Maria

I am near to death

And thou, thou art calling me

A little faster
on figure four.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop.

- Now!
- Fuck off, Fritz!

So, that's us, then.

Mind you,
Mam says there'll be deferment.

What for? Singing in the choir?

They're all old. That's why.

Them, in London. They decide it.
Old, and well off.

When we go
makes no difference to them.

That's not very patriotic.

I'm patriotic,
but in me own good time.

Carted off to France.
I haven't lived.

That's what
ought to get you deferred.

Living?

Sorry, missus.

Hey, don't look now,
but there's Mrs Bishop.

She's nice.

Why won't the other women
talk to her at The Choral?

Why do you think? Hello.

Do I know you?

You might be more familiar
with the sound of me, Mrs Bishop,

- rumbling underneath you.
- I beg your pardon?

The Choral. I'm a bass.

My mate here sits next to me.

Perhaps we'll meet
in a less formal setting soon.

Don't count on it,
you cheeky sod.

- It's not fair.
- What?

Having to go at 18.
Not having done it.

I can't be the only one.
No fuck, no front.

That ought to be the decider.

Well, I've done it, and it doesn't make it
any more acceptable.

Though I think once you're over there,
they cater for all that.

- Do they?
- Brothels, apparently.

Well, that's something.

But it oughtn't to be just intercourse.

- There's other stuff.
- That's right.

- I've never tasted champagne.
- I have. It's rubbish.

I've not been in a proper motor car.

I've never even seen the sea.

- You've been to Morecambe.
- It wasn't in that day.

Have you ever been in love, Lofty?

I don't wanna throw it away
on anybody.

I'd like to bestow it.

Well, you can always bestow it
on Mrs Bishop.

Though she charges.
Even for bestowing.

- You're mad, you are!
- You not coming in?

Where've you lads been?
Come on!

- Can you swim?
- I don't know.

I've never felt the need.

Mary'd have to take
her bonnet off.

Don't you start.

She gets enough of that
from Mitch.

- Do you like him?
- A bit.

He can swim. Look at him.

Clyde and me
used to come down here

at night with nobody about.

Not even a cossie,
he was that bonny.

- I don't wanna know!
- You do, I can tell.

Anyway, he's dead.

And you don't wanna be
left like me.

The others never leave you alone.

Ellis is right enough,
but it's only 'cause I'm available.

Well, cheer up.

We've got the Queens Hotel
to look forward to.

Guthrie is treating
all the new recruits to their teas.

The recruits? What about us?

Not recruits to the army, stupid.
Recruits to the choir.

All of us.

Daisy, Daisy

Give me your answer, do

I'm half crazy

All for the love of you

This is grand.

You'd never think
there was a war on.

Come on.

Good afternoon.
Good afternoon, Joe.

Herbert.

Is it a funeral?

Well, it's not a wedding.

Is the tea thrown in?

With a civilian funeral,
of course it is.

And it's the first I've had
in a fortnight. It's tragic.

Everybody's bereaved
and I'm going bankrupt.

- Breaks your heart.
- Come on.

I offer my condolences...

See?

This is what we're fighting for.

Egg custards?

Don't get overexcited,
only your friend

has divested herself
of her helmet.

What's she dancing
with Bella for?

There's plenty of men.
She could be dancing with me.

Do you dance?

That's beside the point.

- Does Mitch not dance?
- No, thank goodness.

I'd like to dance with Ellis,
only Flo could make remarks.

I'll ask her out for ya.

- Mary, am I terrible?
- Why?

I almost wish the telegram
would come.

Then everyone would know
that Clyde is dead

and I'd be available.

- Cowards.
- What's this?

Why aren't you at the front?
Why aren't you fighting?

Because I'm singing. We all are.

And we're none of us 18 yet,
and when we are we'll go.

So, in the meantime, madam,

you can take your
flaming feather

and tickle your fanny with it
because nobody else is going to.

You shouldn't have said that.

She shouldn't be accosting folk!

Only she lost her brother.

I took her the telegram.

Come on, lads. Eat up.

Thank you.

Thank you.

So, Gerontius.

Yes, will you tell us
a bit more about it?

Some of us
are still in the dark.

Well...

It's a simple story.

As the name suggests, Gerontius,
Mr Duxbury,

is an old man who,
in the first part of the oratorio,

is on his deathbed.

It's quite short
and ends with his death.

In the second part,
there is some delay

while the destiny
of Gerontius' soul is decided.

You see?
You always have to queue.

Heaven'll be the same.

In this case, it's because
the forces of good and evil

are contending for Gerontius' soul,

with the music given to the demons
very dramatic,

while the Angel,
and that will be Mary...

In her bonnet.

Which she could be, after all.

The salvation of Gerontius
is what she wants.

And Mitch wanting the other.

To cut it short, the Angel wins,

and the oratorio ends with her
conveying his soul to Purgatory

with a promise to lead him
from there into the presence of God.

- Not much of a story, is it?
- You don't have to believe it.

I always took
the Matthew Passion

with a pinch of salt.

Well, the words, of course,
are very beautiful. John Henry Newman.

"Farewell, but not forever,
brother dear.

"Be brave and patient
on my bed of sorrow.

"Swiftly shall pass
thy night of trial here.

"And I will come and wake thee
on the morrow."

Wait a minute. Newman?

Cardinal Newman? A Catholic?

What difference does it make?
He could be a Mohammedan.

We haven't even asked him.

- Who?
- Elgar.

Yes, we have.

What did he say?

He hasn't replied.

Catholics, you see.

Feckless.

Again, from figure 39.
"Lord, Thy Servant."

"Lord, Thy Servant."

Lord

Thy servant

Deliver

Lord, thy servant

Deliver

Sanctus fortis

Sanctus Deus

De profundis oro te...

Mr Duxbury, you're not singing,
you are crooning.

And, contraltos,
have you anything against a B flat?

Well, you never go anywhere near it.

Mr Duxbury, could we look
at figure 40, please?

One moment.

Here. You need to support
your voice a little bit more.

I think we have to acknowledge
this crescendo here...

Wake up.

If she's ever daft enough
to go out with you,

she'd still have God
as her fancy man.

Well, it's all right for you.

You've latched yourself on
very nicely.

Worst of it is, I've only just
found out her second name.

Elspeth.

- So?
- Elspeth?

I'm never gonna get anywhere
with an Elspeth.

It's impregnable.

Dr Guthrie!

- Stanley, you're late.
- Never mind that, Dr Guthrie.

- They've sunk the Pommern.
- What?

- What?
- It's a German battleship.

839 Fritzes dead and floating
in the North bloody Sea!

Long live our noble King

God save the King

Send him victorious

Happy...

I forgot. This is for you, sir.

Long to reign over us

God save the King

Praise to the...

Praise to the...

If only you sang Elgar
with the confidence

you sang the national anthem.

Again. Top of the page.

Praise to the...

Have I to go on?

I think that was Elgar's intention,
Mr Duxbury.

Robert, from the più mosso.

But hark! A grand

Mysterious harmony

It floods me...

No! No!

No!

This child of clay

To me

Was given to rear and train

By sorrow

It's a grace note.

Sorrow...

Are you all right, Mr Duxbury?

You get discouraged.

I just wish I had a better voice.
I enjoy it so much.

No, it's... it's a nice voice.

I'm sure people think
I'm only singing Gerontius

because I put my hand
in my pocket.

- No.
- It's true!

Art depends on money.

Without the mill,
there'd be no choir.

No mill, no music.

I'm sure people are grateful.

I'm not sure they are.

Not with me always putting me spoke in.

I pay for the flaming choir,
it entitles me to some say.

I just wish...

You mustn't say I said this.

I just wish he wasn't so...

It's just his way.

And you can sing.

He can't. Not very well.

He lost his son.

What's Elgar like?
Do you know anything?

Not much.

He's coming to Manchester
the day of the concert.

It was in The Argus.

They're giving him
an honorary degree.

- I thought...
- What?

Well, if we wrote to him,
he might come over for the performance.

- I was going to ask Dr Guthrie.
- I wouldn't.

- Why?
- I just wouldn't, that's all.

He won't be grateful.
He never is.

What's the matter, Robert?

I got my papers this morning.

The call-up.

Robert.

I wish you liked girls,
like the other lads do.

- What's that supposed to mean?
- Mind you, if you did...

lasses probably
wouldn't like you so much.

Sad, isn't it?

Perhaps he wasn't on board.

He joined up in the first wave.
Practically first in the queue.

At least you've got more sense.

Was he...

Did he... play music?

He had a good voice. Unspoiled.

Handsome.

As Gerontius,
he would've been...

And instead we're stuck
with Alderman Duxbury.

- I've had my call-up.
- What?

We... we must get you deferred.

- On what grounds?
- The choir.

That's not grounds. Music?

I'm going to register
as a conscientious objector.

- Well, you'll go to prison.
- I thought you'd approve.

- I'm thinking of the choir.
- Of course you are.

Well, Duxbury's on the tribunal.
He can get you off.

I don't want him to.

This fucking war.

The vicars want it.
The women want it.

The idiots getting killed, they want it.
Who do you turn to?

I'm sorry about your friend.

I wish...

I'd...

- I'd like to help, if I can.
- You could stay out of prison.

- That would help.
- I don't mean that.

I mean...

I know you can't just...

replace one friend with another, but...

I should...

Can I ask you something?

Why are we doing this?

This oratorio about an old man.

What do you mean?

It's the young men who are dying.

But hark!

A grand mysterious

Harmony

One, two, three.

It floods me

It floods me

This house can't become
a mausoleum, Margaret.

We can't live
in total silence forever.

You're free to live
entirely as you please, Bernard.

Onward, Christian soldiers

Marching as to war

With the cross of Jesus...

He's here, he's here!
Rick! All right?

Look after yourself,
all right, lad, yeah?

Head down, yeah? You'll be fine.

- Behave yourself over there.
- Next lot won't be so cheerful.

- Why?
- Because we won't be volunteers.

All right, fellas?

- See you when you're back.
- Take care!

Home by Christmas, boys!

Bye, Dad!

Hello, stranger.

I've seen fellas
dropping all around me,

never seen anyone
going down like that.

I thought you were dead.

What did you do?
Were you wounded?

Well, I didn't fall off me bike.

- Same dirty girl, I hope.
- Don't do that.

Why not? You used to like it.

Anyway, I'm safe enough now.

Till death fetches me
in the proper way.

I could even come back
to The Choral.

What?

Why not?
It'd give me something to do.

- You've only one arm.
- So what?

I'm not conducting
the bloody thing.

Be nice singing again.

Get back to the way things were.

Besides, I know the Matthew Passion
like the back of my hand.

We're not doing
the Matthew Passion.

It's something else.

You'd have to speak to Guthrie.

Who's he?

New chorus master.

Bit sarky.
Folk are terrified of him.

I'm just back from the front,
Bella, I think I'll manage.

I just called in to see
if things had changed.

Have they?

Cheerio, then.

Cheerio, love.

Under the Military Service Act, 1916,

the Tribunal is now in session.

This isn't particularly formal,

and, of course,
I know Mr Horner

from The Choral Society
where he is our much-valued pianist.

Dr Guthrie has come along
just as an observer.

Uh... I prefer to think of this
as a... a friendly conversation.

I wouldn't.

This young man is objecting
to doing military service.

I have your statement.
What puzzles me about you people

is that you always think
you're privy to the mind of God.

"War is not part of God's plan."

Well, I'm a canon
of Ripon Cathedral,

so I'm more familiar
with the mind of God than you are,

and war does come
into God's plan and always has.

You've only to read the Old Testament,
it's war, war, war.

I find no sport.

Do you do any sport?

- Not especially.
- "Not especially"?

I prefer music.

I wasn't aware
they were alternatives.

Mr Horner is a talented pianist.

That doesn't stop him
kicking a ball.

We're talking about
firing a gun.

You're not talking
about anything.

You're just an observer.

I'm finding it hard
to have any sympathy with you.

I long to serve.

I'm a crack shot.

But the only creatures
who get the benefit are the pheasants.

Got a girlfriend?

Not as such.

Not a vegetarian, by any chance?

Reading your statement,
young man,

I can't understand how you have
any moral compass at all.

Let alone any contact
with sacred music.

I don't rule out serving
in another capacity.

How magnanimous of you.
I'm sure Field Marshal Haig

will be relieved to know that.

I thought I could be
a stretcher bearer.

You don't seem to be aware

that you belong
to a privileged generation.

The first,
in our island's history,

to be granted the honour
of being conscripted.

I would be proud.

Knowing Mr Horner,
I think I would advise the Tribunal

that you would benefit
from a brief period of deferment.

Say, three months,
to think it over.

I've made up my mind.

Then I will put it
to the chorus master.

Is Mr Horner essential
to the society's next concert?

- He is.
- No!

You should be grateful
to be needed.

There's lads going off every day.
Nobody needs them.

Except the country.
I'd be happy to go.

You have to learn
to play the game.

Duxbury wanted to help.

Don't spit on your luck.

I don't want any special treatment.
I'm happy to be a conchie.

Well, what about the choir?

That's all you care about?

You, you're no different
from the bloody generals.

You're single-minded. Single-minded.

- That's what's wrong with the world.
- You're young, that's what's wrong.

You sound like Duxbury.
Or Field Marshal Haig.

In less than a month's time,
we hope this hall will be full.

And Alderman Duxbury has yet
to give us even an approximation

of the notes.

Where'er you walk

Cool gales shall fan the glade

Trees where you sit

Shall crowd into a shade

Trees where you sit

Shall crowd into

A shade

Where'er you walk

Cool gales shall fan the glade

Trees where you sit

Shall crowd into

A shade

Trees where you sit

Shall crowd

Into a shade

- You don't want it?
- I... I don't.

Well, then why audition?

Well, I used to love The Choral,
when it was Bella and me.

But, I can't see her every day, though.
Not without...

It'd drive me distracted.

Well, you've been dealt
some rough cards.

I'm going to say something now
and it may seem insensitive,

but art is insensitive.

Ironically, you've all the ingredients
here for genius.

Heartbroken, limb lost.

Not to mention the things
you've seen.

- I'd rather be happy.
- So would every other bugger.

Elgar included.

But there are people who,
funnily enough,

would give their right arm
to be able to do what you can do.

And I don't know whether
it's cruel or kind,

but life has offered you
a consolation prize.

And now, at your lowest,

is the moment
you're best equipped to use it.

Life's fucking shit.

So sing.

- It's not Tuesday.
- I know, I'm sorry.

How many more times?
You're not having Fridays.

Just this once.
Guthrie wants to see me.

No, we agreed.

Look, neither of you
will be having anything

if you don't behave yourselves.

Come in, then.

What's it look like,
you hanging about on me doorstep?

Come back at teatime.

He's too young.
His voice isn't heavy enough.

It's an old man dying.

I can play older, he can't.

The lad has a miraculous voice, Bernard.

Alderman. I won't have you
appealing to my better nature.

Like you, I don't have one.

It's this flaming war.
It's ruined everything.

We used to have
such a nice going-on.

It's my own fault
for appointing you in the first place.

If I cared less about the music,
I could put me foot down.

- Others would.
- I know.

We're still short of a devil.

- Is there a solo devil?
- The way we're doing it, yes.

And it has you
written all over it.

I wish I didn't like singing.

Ladies and gentlemen,
we have a new Gerontius.

Good luck, lad.

But in the absence
of a full symphony orchestra,

and a chorus of a hundred,

we must tailor Elgar's Dream
to our present circumstances.

To begin with,
our Gerontius isn't old.

He is a young man. A soldier.

And, perhaps, the Angel
who delivers him from Purgatory

is a nurse.

And heaven, if not quite
the presence of God,

is home, and England,
and peace.

- And is that the orchestra?
- We may be a chamber ensemble,

but I don't think
there'll be any complaints.

It'll be quite short,
and not a full-blown oratorio

by any manner of means.
But it will be as heartfelt

as that original one
in Birmingham Town Hall.

Less holy, maybe,
but more topical.

But is it Elgar?

Figure 35. Clyde.

"Use well the interval."

Use well

The interval

Be merciful

Be gracious

Spare him, Lord

Be merciful

Be gracious

Lord, deliver him

From the sins that are past

From Thy frown and Thine ire

From the perils of dying

Complying with sin

Or relying on self

At the last

- From the nethermost fire
- From all that is evil

- From the power of the devil
- Thy servant deliver

Thy servant

Deliver

For once

And forever

But hark! A grand mysterious

Harmony

It floods me

Like the deep
and solemn sound

Of many waters

Appreciate it.

And now the threshold

As we traverse it

Utters aloud its glad

Responsive chant

Praise

To the Holiest

In the height

And in Thy depth

Be praise

Good! Good!

That's good! I am proud of you.
Elgar would be proud of you.

Two weeks to go,
and we're finally getting somewhere.

I'm still not happy
about Purgatory.

I... I appreciate that the author
is... is Roman Catholic.

But the Church of England
is very clear.

There is no such place
as Purgatory.

No such place?

Listen, I could take you there tomorrow.

Purgatory starts ten yards
from the front line

and it's called No Man's Land.

Every time we mount
another damn fool attack,

we cross it, if we're lucky.

That's Purgatory.

Some flounder through it.

Some drown in it.

Some try and crawl out.

They get driven back
by their officers,

and get shot if they don't.

That's Purgatory.

- When did this arrive?
- This morning.

- Me and all.
- And me.

We're to report
to the recruiting office

a week after the medical.

Take no notice of me, lads.
I was just...

It's not that bad
if you keep your head down.

- I knew he was exaggerating.
- Were you a good soldier?

- Yes, I didn't get killed.
- Just lost an arm.

When you're over there,
see if you can find it.

If there's time, I'd like to see
a bit of the countryside.

What, if there's an half day,
you mean?

- We'll put a stop to war.
- How?

- When we get the vote.
- War, war, war.

You lot talk about nothing else.

Mary, Mary.
Shall I... see you home?

No fear.

I'm not getting anywhere, am I?

I don't know
what you see in her.

She won't even let you kiss her.

That's what I see in her.

- Shit, it's her mother.
- You two, off you go.

Are you the one
that's been courting our Mary?

I don't know what you're
talking about.

You know full well.
Answer me, yes or no.

We hadn't done anything.
I mean, kissed even!

That doesn't surprise me.
Takes after her grandma.

Nobody ever laid a finger
on her, either.

- Usual, please.
- Except her grandpa, presumably.

You cheeky sod.

- Still, I wish you well.
- What at?

Crushing the Salvation Army.

I'd outlaw that tambourine.

I don't mind Jesus,
but not while we're having our tea.

Sounds as if I'd have been
better off with you.

It'll be all right.

Jesus is just a phase.

I never fancied him
as a son-in-law.

Thanks, love.

Next.

- They'll fail Podge.
- Why?

- Open your towel.
- He was in our class at school.

He had fits.

Had to get something
between his teeth.

Is this right?
Are you epileptic?

Only occasionally.

Not so as to stop me
shooting Fritz.

Why does he look at your willy?

- The clap.
- The clap?

Me? Fat chance.

Come on, lad. Off you go.

Well, go on, then.

Next!

Don't worry, love.
They'll be okay.

Well, you came back, didn't you?

I did.

And I don't mind about Ellis.

He's right enough,
if you're happy.

I am.

Are you all right, love?

I didn't think it'd make
that much difference,

but it's surprising how much
you need both of 'em.

- There is one thing.
- What?

- I don't want to ask.
- Nay, go on.

If I can help, I will.

I can't do it with the left hand,
it gets tired.

- No, Clyde.
- Please.

- You never minded before.
- I have to think of Ellis.

Just the one. I'll train myself
to do it with the other.

I can, if I put my mind to it.

Please?

He must be a decent chap.

- Who?
- Elgar.

Decent, I don't know.
Magnificent, yes.

Inspirational.

Generous enough to allow us
to tinker with his stuff.

"Tinker"?

Reimagine.

- You haven't told him, have you?
- He gave his permission.

I mean all this new carry-on.

No orchestra, the cutting,
the rearrangement.

We are a fiddling little minor provincial
choral society.

He won't want bothering.

It's only an hour away.

- What is?
- Manchester.

They're giving him
an honorary degree.

- Yes, I saw.
- The day of the concert.

We could ask him to come.

No, certainly not. He's a great man,
he's got better things to do.

He's an old man.
Maybe he hasn't.

Be told, the pair of you.

Save your bright ideas
for adapting the score.

Well, I have another suggestion.

Why can't we put it into costume

and stage it?

Clyde dressed as a soldier,
Mary as a nurse.

This is an oratorio.
Dressing up is opera.

Well, we've broken some rules,
so why can't we break others?

No, you're right. We are nobody.

Our Gerontius
is a one-armed youth.

The orchestra is the trio
from the Queens Hotel.

Opera, oratorio,
who's going to care?

Yes, let's do it.

- You're not nobody.
- Well, I am now.

I was somebody once, but...
that was in Germany.

Not now.

He must like you.

Never known him accept a suggestion
from anyone else, ever.

- He does like me, I suppose.
- I do, too.

What?

- I already wrote that letter.
- To Elgar?

- No.
- Why not?

What's he gonna think
of all of this?

- He'll understand.
- Why should he? He's...

He's Elgar.

Well, I've done it now. Sorry.

Sorry, Robert.

Cheers, Podge.

- You jammy sod.
- Why?

I want to go.
I shouldn't have said.

Fits. They're nothing.

- Are these for us?
- For the last rehearsal.

That's a Battenberg.

I'm surprised you're still making these.

German muck!

Thank you.

I still don't understand
why we're killing folks

who like the same fancies
as we do.

I mean, we've got common ground.

Who's that?

Would you look at that.

Bloody hell, what's this?

Who is that?

Is Dr Guthrie about?

Certainly. Of course. This way.

Nice frock.

How much do they cost, this model?

Why? Thinking of getting one?

I'm going to take this in four,
and slightly slower,

and keep an eye on this...

May I assist you, sir?

- You're in the Salvation Army.
- I am.

Though it's not popular.

I thought that was the point of it?

With the choir.

They don't like me singing
on street corners.

I don't mind where I sing.

I'm singing the Angel.

"Make a joyful noise
unto the Lord."

- Exactly.
- You don't want a cup of tea?

No, I want Dr Guthrie
and I don't have a lot of time.

- Sir Edward.
- Dr Guthrie, Elgar.

- I'm astonished.
- Elgar!

Forgive my getup.
I've been in Manchester.

Is it China where every
profession has its own uniform?

This is mine, my musical degree.

In the circumstances,
I feel it's quite discreet.

- I certainly don't feel drab.
- No.

Composing is a noble profession.

It's romantic, adventurous,
and poorly paid.

But for once, this afternoon,
I'm allowed to advertise.

I'm not just a jumped-up
shop assistant.

- Who thinks that?
- I do, for one.

At 34, I was still serving

behind the counter
in my father's shop.

- But you're knighted.
- Knighted, yeah.

But what's happened
to the peerage?

Still, I'm a humble man,
and this is what one appreciates,

to have one's work
performed by amateurs.

- Joe Fytton.
- Talented amateurs, I'm sure.

- It's an honour, sir.
- In the back of beyond.

It's an honour. My daughter.

That is the real distinction.

But, don't worry, I shall not be
attending the performance

and I don't expect too much.

Nothing can be worse
than The Dream's first outing

when I ran from Birmingham Town Hall
with my hands over my ears.

Never mind composing,
he certainly fucking talks.

I still have nightmares. So...

I am touched that
you should want to put it on.

Few societies do.
Amateurs not at all.

All they want
is Land of Hope and Glory.

If he wants a preview,
we're in the shit.

I don't have a lot of time,
but is there any chance of

you giving me a hint
of what you've been doing?

Oh, shit.

I wish we could,
but this evening is our performance.

- I mean, there is much to do.
- No matter.

Just an old man's vanity.

And, besides, the choir
has been rehearsing all morning.

- I've sent most of them home.
- Not even the young lady?

No, well, she's not prepared.

Well, I could do something.

- I'd like to.
- There you are.

And if she sings
as delightfully as she looks,

it will be a treat.

Oh, dear.

Better be good.

There you are.

Softly

And gently

Dearly-ransom'd soul

In my most loving arms

I now enfold thee

And o'er...

Softly and gently,
dearly-ransom'd soul,

in my most loving arms...

I now enfold thee.

Now I must go.

Sir Edward, before you go...

I know you must be weary
of your fans, Sir Edward,

but might I trouble you
to sign my score?

No, of course.

- And the young lady's?
- Please.

Forget the dressing gown,
he just looks like anybody else.

My late father-in-law
springs to mind.

- Are you in the chorus?
- No.

I'm actually one of the principals.

In fact,
I was singing Gerontius,

until we brought it up to date.

Oh, fuck.

- Up to date?
- Less religious.

Well, it's Cardinal Newman's poem,
that's why it's religious.

- So who is Gerontius?
- I am.

But he...
No, no, no, he's too young.

You'd be surprised, Sir Edward,
how poignant a young man sounds.

Especially at our present moment.

He was wounded at Ypres.

I don't care if he was wounded
at Agincourt.

His voice won't be heavy enough.

What else have you meddled with?
Let me see the score.

- It...
- This is disgraceful.

I hardly recognise it.

This isn't a score,
it's a scrapbook.

What have you done
with the orchestration?

We are the orchestra,
Sir Edward, our trio.

Trio?

Would you like us to play you
an extract?

We've never had any complaints.

And will the tenor
be in uniform?

It's my costume.

Costume?

This is an oratorio,
it's not fancy dress!

I really can't have this.
I thought I was doing you a favour.

You are. It's an interpretation.
Art comes out of art.

Not out of mine.

It's your music,
even if it's not your story.

- It's Cardinal Newman's story.
- The young man is dying.

Why else would he be dying these days
except in the trenches?

Like all the rest.
Hundreds of them, one after another.

Dying in ditches
and on the seas.

One man's death tells you
more than a thousand.

And I wouldn't place
too much reliance on the war.

I sat next to Field Marshal Haig
at the academy dinner

and he told me in confidence

that it will all be over
within six months.

You won't look
so up to date then.

Go after him.
He likes your voice,

you're a good-looking girl.
Be... be nice to him.

Cancel the performance!

Sir!

I'm sorry, my dear.
I cannot allow them to do it.

I have my reputation
to think of.

Whereas you...
you're wasted here.

I know teachers who can help.

- I'm not a proper singer.
- You could be.

I'm just at the mill,
I can't afford to...

Don't worry about that.

If I said yes, would you...

Go on, sing!

Some of these boys
won't be coming back.

Land of hope and glory

Mother of the free

- Oh, God.
- She hasn't finished.

I know the rest.

Sir Edward.

Your first big success,
triumph, really,

was your
Variations on an Original Theme,

- The Enigma Variations.
- So?

And you didn't write
the theme yourself.

Possibly, it's not important.

You were building
on someone else's work.

- We were building on yours.
- Driver.

Art does come out of art!

Even yours!

- That's it then, is it?
- Miserable sod.

Nothing to look forward to now.

I don't know. There's France.

Well, we had a good try.

My fault. Don't repeat yourself.
The lesson.

Once, even in Nuremberg, enough.

Well, I must say,
I'm very disappointed.

We're all disappointed, my dear.

- No. In you.
- I agree.

Seems such a shame,
after all the work we've done.

And the boys going next week.

- We can't do it.
- Get it into your heads.

No licence. It would be theft.

Not necessarily.

As long as we don't charge
for entry, we're in the clear.

- Is that right?
- What, free?

Friends and family.

My mam would come.

Yeah, and mine.

Does anyone here feel like we're done
with The Dream of Gerontius?

- No!
- That we can walk away

- and leave it at that?
- No.

Let's put the word out. Now!
This minute.

Jesu

Maria

I am near to death

And Thou

Thou art calling me

By Thy birth

And by Thy Cross

Rescue him from endless loss

By Thy rising from the tomb

By Thy rising from the tomb

By the Spirit's...

Save him in the day

Of doom

Sanctus fortis

Sanctus Deus

De profundis oro te

Miserere

Judex meus

Parce mihi

Domine

- Rescue him, O Lord
- Rescue him, O Lord

Mary, pray for me

Rescue him

Joseph, pray for me

By Thy gracious power

This child of clay

To me was given

To rear and train

By sorrow and pain

In the narrow way

Alleluia

From Earth

To heaven

Dispossessed, aside thrust, chucked down

By the sheer might of a despot's will

Dispossessed, aside thrust, chucked down

By the sheer might of a despot's will

Dispossessed, aside thrust

Who after expelling

Their hosts, gave!

And now the threshold

As we traverse it

Utters aloud its glad

Responsive chant

Praise

To the Holiest

In the height

And in the depth be praise

In all His words

Most wonderful

Most sure in all

His ways!

Farewell

But not forever

Brother dear

Be brave and patient

On your bed of sorrow

Swiftly shall pass

Your night of trial here

And I will come

And wake you

On the morrow

Farewell

Praise to the Holiest

In the height

Amen

Amen

Amen

It was superb... superb.

Thank you, sir.

One, two, three.

You changed yours, you cheat.
I went paper, you went like that.

My legs hurt.

All right, boys. Ready?

Good and still.

Good, good.

My mam will be coming back.

Nay, she won't.

She's gone to the pictures especially.

Well, she's on your side.

She's never liked me
being in the Army either.

What do you think?

Come on, love.
We're off tomorrow.

They all say it's not very nice
the first time.

It'll be all right.

Only I've asked God
and if I don't do this,

then you'll be safe.

If I do this for God,
he'll do this for me.

Nay, Mary.

If God is like that,
you'd be better off without him.

What you doing?

- Look.
- No!

This is me, Mary.

I want you to see
what I look like.

Before I go,
I want you to see me.

Hello?

Stanley.

- Oh, God.
- It's all right, Mrs Bishop.

I haven't got a telegram.

Well, what is it you want?

Can I come in?

It's important.

What for?

You're a bit young.

- I'm old enough.
- I know your Irene.

I used to push your pram.

We're going tomorrow.
I've got the money.

Do I have to take my shoes off?

Not unless you want to.

Let me get you a coat hanger.

You don't want to spoil
your new uniform.

It looks nice.

- Shall I take it off?
- Yes, love.

Mrs Bishop,
I don't just want to...

do it.

I'd like to see you
and everything.

You shall.

No. No, love.

It's on the house.

Are you sure?

You can come again,
when you come back.

Don't let on to our Irene.

- Thank you very much.
- Be careful, love.

- Over there.
- I will.

Well, I expect he's right.
I mean, he'd know, wouldn't he?

- Who?
- Elgar.

Whole thing'll probably be over
by the time we get there.

That's what
Field Marshal Haig told him.

Just think on.

And be careful.

- Good luck, son.
- Take care of yourself.

Don't be surprised if I
come back with a French girl.

- Bye, love. Stay safe!
- Bye, love!

I don't suppose there'll be
much music.

Still, it might do me good to...

pursue other...

Here are your friends.

- Good luck.
- Can I just...

God bless.

- You be careful, you hear?
- I'll be fine.

I came down
when our Arnold went.

There was a band,
the Lord Mayor.

Now there's not even a curate.

Bye.