Original subtitles

thank you

Thank you.

Entirely too much but sublime.

Frightening love is full of quicksand.

Enlightening love is full of tricks. And it does take

time. Which really is rather a crime.

Curious. Love is self-tormenting, embarrassing.

Love is unrelenting, a labyrinth. Love is just

resenting the time love takes.

Compounds the confusion it makes.

One muddles the facts with the fakes.

And love is a lecture on how to correct your mistakes.

What shall I wear?

Where is my parasol? Do I compare?

Would you dare? Have I missed it? Will I ever? Did he notice? What will they say?

Should I care? Must I remember it again?

Why can't we stay just the way we like? Was I ever? Can I ever?

I have no questions.

It matters the most and it's worst You always feel under

rehearsed One sets the conditions then finds the positions reversed

And think of the new friends it makes Yes, love is a lecture on how to

correct your mistakes

No answers.

I have no...

If you cheated a little, it would come out.

Solitaire is the only thing in life that demands absolute honesty.

As a woman who has numbered kings among her lovers, I think my word can be taken

on that point.

What was I talking about?

You said I should watch. Watch what?

It sounded very unlikely to me. You said I should watch for the night to smile.

Everything's unlikely, dear, so why let that deter you?

Of course the summer night smiles.

Three times.

But if it smiles, how does it smile?

You get a feeling.

Suddenly the jasmine starts to smell stronger.

Then a frog croaks. Then all the stars in Orion wink.

Don't squeeze your bosoms against the chair, dear.

It'll stump their growth.

And then, where would you be?

Why does it smile, Grandmother?

At the follies of human beings, of course.

The first smile smiles for the young, who know nothing.

The second for the fools who know too little, like Desiree.

Mother isn't a fool.

And the third at the old, who know too much, like me.

Kurt, time for my nap.

Rude-ing about your mother, child.

Thank the Lord you are now in more dependable hands.

Go and practice your piano, and tonight, as a treat, I shall tell you amusing

stories about my liaison with the Baron de Signac, who was, to put it

mildly, peculiar.

Mop the floors and chop the parsley Mend the clothes and tend the children

Ordinary mothers like ordinary wives Make the beds and bake the

pies And whizzer on the vine Not mine I

always

knew you'd come back to me

Armand, my love.

Sleep in peace, Margaret.

God will forgive you in heaven, for you had a loving heart.

Dying by inches every night, what a glamorous life.

on by winches to recite what a glamorous life ordinary

mothers never get the flowers and ordinary mothers never know the joys but

ordinary mothers couldn't cough for hours maintaining their poise i know

i'm there but i couldn't kill the old cat off any faster sandwiches only but

she eats what she wants when she wants

it's lonely but she meets many handsome galas ordinary mothers

don't live out of cases but ordinary mothers don't go different places which

ordinary mothers can't do being mothers all day mines away in a

play and she's realer than they what

if her brooch is

And her costumes unravel What if her coach is second class?

She at least gets to travel And sometime this summer Meaning

soon she'll be traveling to me Sometime this summer Maybe

June I'm the new place she'll see Ordinary Joshes may think Life is

better with ordinary mothers near

but ordinary daughters seldom get a letter enclosing reviews.

Gay and resilient, with applause, what a glamorous life.

Speeches are brilliant, if they're sure, what a glamorous life.

Ordinary mothers needn't, need committees, but ordinary mothers don't

get keys to cities. No, ordinary...

Your Honor, Burgermeister, Hofrat von Fensel,

aldermen, ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to

declare this tree open.

That is planted to the memory of our beloved Austrian

playwright, Mr. Arthur Schnitzel.

guarded by dragons, snorting and grumbling and rumbling in wagons.

She's in her kingdom, wearing disguises, living a life that is full of surprises.

And sometime this summer, she'll come galloping over the green.

Sometime this summer, to the rescue, my mother the queen.

Ordinary mothers thrive on... being private but ordinary mother somehow can

survive it and ordinary mother

Good afternoon,

lawyer Eggerman.

Good afternoon.

I wonder if you would have two.

Especially well-placed tickets for this evening's performance.

Of course, Mr. Eggermann.

A little treat for your wife, no doubt?

Yes.

Don't you have anything a little less gloomy to practice?

It isn't gloomy.

It's profound.

Well, it's driving me into the profoundest melancholy.

Come and be entertaining in my boudoir.

That's better.

In discussing temptation, St. Augustine says

you cannot prevent the birds from flying over your head, but you can prevent them

from nesting in your hair.

Oh dear, that's gloomy too.

For a man who's going to join God's army, there is little to be amused about

in this world.

Father Johan says we must be like soldiers on guard every second of the

day to avoid the snares of the devil.

Oh.

My ball.

Well, you can put it there, you know.

My lap isn't one of the devil's snares.

There's your father.

Frederick!

Frederick!

Look who's come home to us.

Holier than ever.

Hello, son. How was the examination?

Well, as a matter of fact... Passed it with flying colours, of course. And

Father Johan says... Splendid. You must give us a full report. Later.

Dearest husband, do you want your tea now?

Not now, I think.

It's been rather an exhausting day in court, and as we have a long evening

ahead of us, I thought a little nap was indicated.

Oh, tickets for the theatre.

It's a French comedy.

Oh, it's Woman of the World, isn't it, with Desiree Armfelt?

Oh, Frederick, how delicious.

What shall I wear?

My blue with feathers?

Genuine angel's feathers.

Or the green?

Oh, I know, of course, my pink with the bosom.

Derek, you can do me up at the back.

I'm sorry, son. I should have remembered that you were coming home and got a

third ticket.

But then perhaps a French comedy is hardly suitable.

Why does everyone laugh at me?

Is it so ridiculous to want to do some good in this world?

I'm afraid being young in itself is a trifle ridiculous.

Good has to be so good, bad so bad.

Such superlatives. But to be old, I suppose, is not ridiculous.

Ah.

Let's not go into that.

Nobody rang. Doesn't he want his tea?

They're taking a nap.

You smell of soap.

I'm reading.

Do those old priests take a scrubbing brush to you every morning and scrub you

down like a dry horse? Get away from me. Oh, what a wicked woman.

I'll go straight to hell, I will.

Don't walk like that. Like what?

Like this?

Careful!

It's a new blouse.

Oh, it's wages and the lace extra.

Oh, poor little Eric.

Never mind, you'll soon get the knack of it.

You were sweet to think of the theater for me.

I'll enjoy it, too.

Who wouldn't? And all the posters call her the one and only Desiree Armfelt.

I wonder what it would feel like to be a one and only.

The one and only Anne Eggerman.

Poor Frederick. Do I still make you happy?

After 11 months?

I know I'm foolish to be so afraid.

And you've been so patient.

But soon, I promise.

I know you think I'm too silly to worry, but I do.

Oh, no!

Can that be a pimple coming?

Now, as the sweet imbecility stumbles so lavishly onto her lap. Oh, Frederick,

what a day it's been.

Unending drama, while Petra was brushing my hair. Now, there are two

possibilities. A, I could ravish her. B, I could nap. That grumpy old Mrs.

Nordstrom from next door. Her sister's coming for a visit.

Say, it's the ravishment, then we see the option that follows, of course. You

hope I'm imperious enough for the servants?

I try to be, but half the time... A, the deployment of charm, or B, the adoption

of physical force.

Now B might arouse her, but let us assume my trip on my trouser lay

crossing the room.

Oh, I mustn't forget my dressmaker's coming tonight. Her hair getting

tangled, her stays getting snapped. My nerves will be jangled, my energy

sapped. Frederick, I would so love a puppy to take care of. Removing her

clothing could take me all day, and her subsequent clothing would turn me away,

which eliminates B and which leaves us with A. Could you ever be jealous of me?

Like the Moor of Venice.

Now, insofar as approaching it, what would be festive but have its effect?

Shall I learn Italian?

I think it might be amusing if the verbs aren't too irregular. Now, there are two

ways of broaching it. A, the suggestive, and B, the direct. French is a much

chiquer language. Everyone says so.

Parlez-vous français?

Say that I settle on B to wit a charmingly lecherous mood. I know you

like my hair this way, but on top of my head like a siren.

A, I could put on my nightshirt or sit disarmingly B in the nude. A rhetoric

day. You should have seen me. That might be effective. My body's all right, but

not in perspective and not in the light. Poor Eric. How comically looked. I'm

bound to be chilly and feel a buffoon, but night shirts are silly in mid

-afternoon. Oh, virtuous people, so stingy. Which leaves the suggestive, but

how to proceed? Although she gets rested, perhaps I could read. She can't

be a day under. In view of her penchant for something romantic, Dissart is too

trenchant and Dickens too frantic. And Stendhal would ruin the plan of attack,

as there isn't much blue in the red and the black. I really like the chocolate

rum, Peter. De Montesson's candor would cause her dismay. The Brontes are

grander, but not very gay. Her taste is much blander, I'm sorry to say, but his

hands, Christian Anderson, never escape.

Which eliminates a... And he said you're such a pretty lady, wasn't that silly?

Now, with my mental facilities partially muddied and ready to snap. I'm sure

about the bracelet, but earrings, earrings, which earrings?

Now, though there are possibilities still to be studied, I might as well

nap. Mother's rubies?

Oh,

not the diamonds, they're agony. Oh, as I must to adjust my original plan.

Desiree Armfelt. I just know she'll wear the most glamorous gowns.

Oh, dear distinguished old Frederick.

Promise Soon I won't shy

away Dear old

Soon I want to

And we touch.

And you're kissing my brow.

I don't mind it too much.

And you'll have to admit I'm endearing. I help keep things

humming. I'm not domineering. Once, once more, you're

coming. And think of how I adore you. Think of how much you love me.

That racket your father is sleeping.

Later.

Later.

When is later?

All you ever hear is later, Eric.

Eric, later.

Yes, we know, Eric. Oh, Eric, everyone agrees.

Eric, please, Eric, you have a thought. You're fairly bursting with a personal

discovery or problem, and it's...

What's your rush, Eric?

Shush, Eric. Goodness, how you gush, Eric. Hush, Eric.

You murmur, I only... It's just that... For

God's

sake!

Later, Eric.

Later. I promise.

When it's later.

Soon. Later.

I won't. Eric, later. Will you ever hear it? Yes, indeed, Eric. Read, Eric. In a

little while, Eric. Smile, Eric.

Soon. Later. When it's later. Will you ever hear it? Later.

Eric, later. As I've often stated.

When.

Maybe soon, when you're close and we talk, I'll be ninety and dead. When I'm

kissing your brow and I'm stroking your hair, I don't mind it too much. You come

into my bed and you'll have to admit I'm here.

Through life's gray windows, impatiently, not in very cheer.

Soon, soon, soon.

Come to me soon, if I'm dead I can't wait.

Desiree.

Tell me something about this remarkable counter, madame. It is there.

that her lovers are as many as the pearls in the necklace which she always

wears. And your own husband, madame, is supposed to be one of the handsomest

pearls. Is he not?

She took him as a lover for three months, and then she gave him back.

The countess's lack of decency is most moral.

The countess...

My dear Madame de Merville, what a charming mischance to find you here this

evening. She looked at us.

Why did she look at us? Oh, I don't think she looked especially at us. She

did.

She peered and then she smiled.

I implore you to reveal to me the secret of your success with the hardier sex.

My dear Madame, love is a perpetual juggler of three balls.

How can you be sure?

Their names are Heart, Word, and Sex.

How easily can these balls be juggled? And how easily one can be

dropped?

Drop Heart, madam.

And a chill descends, which negates even the most expert gymnastics in the

bedroom. Drop Word.

And it is nothing but two beasts coupling.

I want to go home.

I'm going home.

Drop sex, madam.

And your lover has flown into the arms of your nearest, a competitor.

We have sinned, and it was a complete failure.

All these buttons, these insufferable buttons.

Here, dear, let me.

Now, don't you worry, little Eric.

Just let it rest for a while.

That was a short play.

Mrs. Eggerman became ill.

I had to bring her home.

No, lamb, I told you.

Now just let it rest.

You'll be surprised how perky it will be by morning.

Yes, dear Did you have many women between your first wife and me

Sometimes when I think of what memories you must have

I'd vanish inside

Before I met you I was quite a different man

Many things were different Better worse

Different anyway.

Do you remember when I was a little girl?

And you used to come to my father's house for dinner and tell me fairy

tales.

Do you remember?

Yes, I remember.

Then you were Uncle Frederick.

And now you're my husband. Isn't that amusing?

You were so lonely and sad that summer.

I felt terribly sorry for you.

So I said, poor thing.

I'll marry him.

Are you coming to bed yet?

Not just yet.

I think I'll go out for a breath of fresh air.

I wonder how old that arm felt woman can be.

At least 50, don't you think?

Oh, I wouldn't say that old.

Good night.

They told me where to find you at the theater.

Hello, Desiree.

So it was you.

I peered and peered and I said to myself, is it?

Can it be? Is it possible?

Then, of course, when you walked out after five minutes, I was sure.

Fourteen years.

Rancor? For a while, a little.

But now?

No.

No rancor.

Not even a trace.

Sandwich?

Hungry as ever after a performance, I see.

Oh, worse.

I'm a wolf.

Little schnapps, I'm sure.

You never said no to schnapps.

About walking out tonight, I should like to explain.

The girl in the pink dress, I imagine.

You still don't miss a thing, do you?

Your wife.

For the past 11 months.

She was so looking forward to the play, she got slightly overexcited. She's only

18.

Still almost a child.

So you took her home and tucked her up in her cot with her rattle and her

woolly penguin.

Figuratively speaking.

And then you came to me.

Yes.

How familiar all this is.

Oh, yes.

The same old inevitable routine.

But it still has its compensations?

Yes.

No.

Yes. That's a rather ambiguous answer.

But you must at times be lonely.

Dear Frederick, if you're inquiring about my love life, rest assured it is

quite satisfactory.

I see.

And if I may ask at the moment?

A dragoon.

A very handsome...

And very married, Dragoon. With, I'm afraid, the vanity of a peacock and the

brain of a pea, but the physical proportions of... Don't specify the

vegetable, please. I'm easily deflated.

Oh,

Desiree.

Frederick.

Desiree, Ike.

That is, I...

Perhaps a little more

schnapps.

Help yourself.

Who's this?

That?

That's my daughter.

I had no idea.

She, uh... happened.

She's charming.

Yes.

She travels with you?

No.

She lives with my mother in the country.

She used to tour with me.

Then one day my mother swept up like the wrath of God and saved her from me.

You never knew my mother.

She always wins our battles.

Perhaps a little schnapps for me, too.

Yes, of course.

So.

So.

Well, I suppose it's time to talk about my new status, isn't it?

Boast or complain?

Both, I expect.

My sadness, she livens my days. She bursts with a kind of

madness, my well-ordered ways. My happiest mistake, the ache of my

life. You must meet my wife.

She bubbles with pleasure, she glows with surprise, disrupts my accustomed

leisure, and raffles my ties.

I don't know even now quite how it began.

You must meet my wife, Maya.

One thousand whims to which I give in, since her smallest tear turns me

ashen. I never dreamed that I could live in so completely

demented, contented a fashion. So son-like, so winning,

so unlike a wife, I do think that I'm beginning to show signs of life.

Don't ask me how at my age one still can grow.

If you met my wife, you'd know.

Dear Frederick, I'm just longing to meet her sometime.

She sparkles. How pleasant.

She twinkles.

How nice.

Her youth is a sort of present.

Whatever. the price the incandescent what the light of my life you

must meet my wife yes i must i really must she flutters how charming

she twitters my word she floats isn't that alarming what is she a bird

she makes me feel i'm what a very old man yeah no no i must meet your

gertrude my

Sorry, Anne.

She loves my voice, my walk, my mustache.

The cigar, in fact, that I'm smoking.

She'll watch me puff until it's just ash. Then she'll save the cigar, but...

Be so, but you're joking.

She dotes on... Your dimple. My snoring. How dare.

The point is she's really simple. Yes, that much seems clear.

She gives me funny names like...

Wouldn't she just?

You must meet my wife.

If I must. Yes, I must.

A sea of whims that I submerge in, yet so lovable in repentance.

Unfortunately still a virgin, but you can't force a flower. Don't finish

that! Sentence, she's monstrous. She's frightened.

Unfeeling.

Unversed, she'd strike you as unenlightened. No, I'd strike her first.

Her reticence, her apprehension. Her crust. No, no. Yes, Frederick. You must

meet my wife. Let me get my hat and my knife.

What was that?

I must meet your wife.

Yes.

A virgin?

A virgin.

Eleven months?

Eleven months.

No wonder you thought of me.

Desiree, I... Yes?

Would it seem insensitive if I were to ask you to...

I can't say it.

Say it, darling.

Would you?

Of course.

What are old friends for?

The Yusupov Emerald.

St. Petersburg in December.

Ice palaces springing up overnight on the frozen Neva.

And as I skimmed past him on my skates, the Archduke laughed

and tossed it to me, crying, Catch!

I was tired then.

Grace, and for a woman with just a shade more enterprise than the

others, the opportunities were infinite.

Grandmother, do you think it will smile tonight?

Please smile.

Wait! Get up!

It's almost the same, isn't it?

Oh, oh.

A little deal.

Oh, who can that be?

He couldn't.

Good God, the Dragoon?

Impossible. He's... He's a manoeuvre. It's 30 miles from here.

You'll have to let him in he'll know I'm here the concierge Is

there anything over there

You travel with his robe

It seems to be funny, isn't it?

What shall I say to him? Don't worry. You are not an actress, nor I a lawyer,

for nothing.

Desiree?

Carl Magnus!

What a delightful surprise. Come in.

Will you be staying long?

I have 20 hours leave, 3 hours coming here, 9 hours with you, 5 hours with my

wife, and 3 hours back.

20 hours.

Do you mind if I take off my uniform?

And put on my robe?

Well, at the moment it's occupied.

So I see.

Count Mittelheim, Mr...

Eggerman? Sir.

Sir?

I feel I should give you an explanation for what might seem to be a rather

unusual situation.

For many years now, I have been Miss Armfelt's mother's lawyer and devoted

friend. A small lawsuit of hers, nothing major, I'm happy to say, comes up in

court tomorrow morning. And at the last moment, I realized that some legal

papers required her daughter's signature.

Since I was informed that Miss Armfelt's theatrical company was performing in the

neighborhood, I was able to obtain the address of her lodgings, and although it

was late and she had already retired... I let him in, of course.

And then?

Oh.

The robe.

Well, you see... Unfortunately, sir, On my way to the water closet through Miss

Armfelt's darkened bedroom, I inadvertently tripped over her hip bath

and fell in.

Miss Armfelt very generously loaned me this garment while waiting for my

clothes to dry.

In the bedroom.

Well, in that case, Miss Armfelt, I suggest you return to the bedroom and

see whether this gentleman's clothes are dry by now.

Are you fond of duels, sir?

I don't know. I've never really tried.

I have dueled seven times.

Pistol.

Rapier.

Sabre.

I've been wounded five times.

Otherwise, fortune has been kind to me.

I am impressed.

You see this fruit knife?

The target will be that picture.

The old lady, her face, her right eye.

Bravo. Are you being insolent, sir?

Of course, sir.

Uh, they're not very dry.

Oh, dear me, no, they're, uh... Certainly not, are they?

Miss Armfeld, perhaps you can find this gentleman one of my night shirts.

Thank you, thank you, but I think I would prefer to put on my own garments.

Unfortunately, sir, you will not have time for that!

The night shirt?

Oh, no, no, I'm sure I'll be able to find it myself.

Your robe, sir.

Well, good night, Miss Armfelt.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Good night.

Oh, please give my love to my mother.

Mother's so fond of him.

Well, you must be starved. I'll get you something. I'm not hungry.

Of course you are. I'll be just a minute.

Good evening sir.

And how was Miss Desiree Armfelt?

In good health, I trust?

Charlotte, my dear, I have exactly five hours.

Five hours this week?

Last week it was four.

I'm gaining ground.

She had a visitor.

A lawyer in a nightshirt.

Now that I find interesting.

What did you do?

I threw him out.

In a nightshirt?

In my nightshirt.

What sort of lawyer?

Criminal?

Maritime? Corporation?

Testamentary?

Didn't your sister's little school friend, Ann Weber, marry a Frederick

Eggermann?

Yes, she did.

Frederick Eggermann.

What are you doing today?

After the five hours?

No, right now, I need a little sleep.

Ah, I see.

In that case, my plans will have to be changed.

Now, what will I do today?

I know.

Nothing.

Why don't you pay a visit to Marta's little school friend?

She probably has no idea what her husband's been up to.

And I could enlighten her.

Poor Carl Magnus.

Are you that jealous?

A civilized man can tolerate his wife's infidelities, but when it comes to his

mistress, a man becomes a tiger.

As opposed, of course, to a goat in a rut.

Well, if I'm back in two hours, that still leaves us three, correct?

You're a good wife, Charlotte.

The best.

Every day a little death in the parlor, in the bed,

in the curtains, in the silver, in the buttons, in the bread.

Every day a little sting in the heart and in the head.

Every move and every breath, and you hardly feel a thing, brings a perfect

little death.

Give the lapdog a command and she crawls for him.

For the little understanding she is owed.

See her beg for her reward.

Is her master getting bored?

Love's a miserable business.

Mind the road.

She waits patiently for days in the halls for him

with the memory of his praises in her ear.

And then only to be told that the coffee's getting

cold. It's a nauseating business.

Oh, we hear.

My dear, how is your marriage working out?

Oh, I'm in bliss.

I have all the dresses in the world and a maid to take care of me and this

charming house and a husband who spoils me shamelessly.

That list, I presume, is in diminishing order of priorities.

Oh, Charlotte, you always did say the most amusing things.

I still do.

I frequently laugh myself to sleep contemplating my own future.

Now, dear...

About this husband of yours, how do you rate him?

As a man?

I don't quite know what you mean.

I will give you an example.

As a man, my husband could be rated a louse, a bastard, a conceited,

puffed-up, adulterous egomaniac who constantly makes me do the most

degrading, the most humiliating things like...

Like? Why do I put up with it?

Why do I let him treat me like an intimidated corporal in his regiment?

Why, why, why? I'll tell you why.

I hate him.

I despise him.

I love him.

Oh, damn that woman.

May she rot forever in some infernal dressing room with lipstick of fire

and... Scalding mascara. Every billboard in hell eternally announced.

Desiree Armfelt in... in... in... The Wild Duck.

Desiree Armfelt?

But what has she done to you?

What has she not done?

Enslaved my husband.

Enslaved yours.

Frederick!

He was there last night. In her bedroom.

In a nightshirt.

My husband threw him out into the street. He's insanely jealous.

He ordered me to come here and tell you, and I'm actually telling you.

Oh, what a monster I have become.

Charlotte, is that the truth?

Frederick was there in a nightshirt?

In my husband's nightshirt.

Lemonade, madam.

Lemonade, Charlotte.

Lemonade. It would choke me.

Every day a little death.

On the lips and in the eyes.

In the murmurs, in the pauses, in the gestures, in the sighs.

Every day a little sting.

In the looks and in the lies.

Every move and every breath, and you hardly feel a thing, brings a perfect

little death.

He smiles sweetly, strokes my hair, says he misses me.

I would murder him right there, but first I'd die.

He talks softly of his wars and his horses and

his whores. I think love's a dirty business.

So do I.

I'm before him on my knees and he kisses me.

She assumes I'll lose my reason, and I do.

Men are stupid, men are vain.

Love is disgusting, love is insane.

A humiliating business.

Oh, how true.

Every day a little death. Every day a little death.

In the parlor, in the bed. On the lips and in the eyes. In the curtains, in the

silver, in the buttons, in the bread.

In the gestures, in the signs. Every day a little sting. Every day a little die.

In the heart and in the head. In the looks and in the lies. Every move and

every breath. And you hardly feel a thing.

Brings a perfect little day.

Rosette, to the layout.

Rosette, indeed.

I'm going to jump into bed and sleep for the entire two weeks.

Who is there?

Almost anyone.

Dear, one and only, I'm thrilled you're giving us a vacation, but what's going

on? You can't fool us. You've got something up your sleeve.

Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. Don't be a bore.

What is it, Jo?

It's just occurred to me that if I don't try to make something happen now, I may

be playing Camille for the rest of my life.

To lose a lover or even a husband or two during the course of one's life can be

vexing. But to lose one's teeth is a catastrophe.

Bear that in mind, child, as you chomp so recklessly into that ginger snap.

Yes, Grandmother.

You've grown a mile.

And you're prettier than ever.

Hello, Mother.

To what do I owe the honor of this visit?

Well, I just thought I'd pop out to see you both.

Is that so surprising?

Yes.

Oh, you're in your bitchy mood, I see.

If you have come to take Frederica back...

The answer is no.

I do not object to the immorality of your life, merely to its sloppiness.

Since I have been tidy enough to acquire a splendid mansion and a fleet of

servants, it's only common sense my granddaughter should reap some of the

advantages of it. Now, isn't that so, dear?

I really don't know, Grandmother.

Oh, yes, you do, dear.

Well, Desiree, there must be something that you want, or you wouldn't have.

Popped out.

All right, Mother.

The tour's over for a while, and I was wondering if you would invite a few

people out here next weekend.

If they're actors, they'll have to sleep in the stables.

Not actors, Mother.

Just a lawyer and his family, Frederick Eggerman. In my day, we went to lawyers'

offices on occasion, but never consulted with their families.

Well, then it'll make a nice change for you, won't it, dear?

I'm deeply suspicious, but very well.

Here's the address.

Needless to say, I shall be polite to your guests.

However, they will not be served my best champagne.

I'm saving that for my funeral.

Look, ma'am, an invitation here, ma'am, delivered by hand. And, ma'am, I notice

the stationery's engraved and very grand.

Petra, how too exciting, just when I need it.

Petra, such elegant writing, so shake you hardly can read it. What do you

think? Who can it be? Even the ink? No, here, let me.

Your presence, just think of it, Petra, is kindly, is at a chateau, requested,

et cetera, et cetera, madam.

We're invited.

What a horrible plot. A weekend in the country. I'm excited.

No, you're not. A weekend in the country. Just imagine.

It's completely depraved. A weekend in the country.

It's insulting. It's engraved. It's that woman. It's that armpit. All the actors.

All the ghouls. She may hope to make her charm felt. But she's mad if she thinks

I would be such a fool. It's a weekend in the country. How insulting.

And I've nothing to wear. A weekend in the country.

Here.

The last place I'm going is there.

Oh, Mother, thank you.

Darling, how would you feel about I having our very own home and me only

acting when I really wanted to?

And a man who would make you a spectacular father.

Oh, I see.

The lawyer.

Mr. Eggerman.

Dear child, you are uncanny.

Guess what an invitation.

Guess who begins with an A. Arm felt, is that a relation to the decrepit Desiree?

Out of the blue, isn't it strange? Well, but it's true, we need a change. A

weekend in the country would be charming and the air would be fresh. A weekend

with that woman.

In the country. In the flesh.

A weekend in the country smelling jasmine. Watching little things grow. A

weekend in the country.

My darling will simply say no. Oh.

Mother, I know it's none of my business, but that dragoon you wrote about with

the moustache.

Oh, him.

What I ever saw in him absolutely astounds me.

He's a tin soldier. Arms, legs, brain.

Tin, tin, tin.

A weekend. How very amusing.

A weekend. But also inept. A weekend. Of course we're refusing.

Au contraire, you must accept.

Oh, no.

A weekend in the country. But it's frightful. No, you don't understand.

A weekend in the country is delightful if it's planned.

Wear your hair down and a flower.

Don't use makeup. Dress in white. She'll grow older by the hour.

Be hopelessly shattered by Saturday night. Spend a weekend in the country.

We'll accept it. I had a feeling you would. A weekend in the country.

It's only polite that we should. Good.

But Count Mittelheim's insanely jealous, isn't he?

You don't suppose he'll come galloping up on a black stallion, brandishing a

sword?

Oh, dear, I hadn't thought of that.

But no, no, thank heavens.

It's his wife's birthday this weekend.

Sacred to domesticity.

At least we're safe from him.

She'll see to that.

Well, I have an intriguing little social item. What?

Out of the arm felt family man. Well, what? Nearly a weekend still. I thought

it might amuse you to know who's invited to go this time with his pants.

You don't mean... I'll give you three guesses. She wouldn't. Reduce it to two.

It can't be. Nevertheless, it's... Eggerman. Right, score one for you. Aha!

Aha! Aha.

Aha.

A weekend in the country, we should try it. Oh, I wish we'd been asked. A

weekend in the country, peace and quiet.

We'll go masked.

A weekend in the country.

Uninvited. They'll consider it odd. A weekend in the country, I'm delighted.

Oh, my God. And the shooting should be pleasant if the weather's not too rough.

Happy birthday, it's your present. You haven't been getting out nearly enough.

And a weekend in the country.

It's perverted.

Pack my quiver and bow. A weekend in the country.

Exactly 2.30 we go. We can't. We shall.

We shall. I'm getting the car and we're motoring down. Yes, I'm certain you are

and I'm staying in town. We'll go. We'll go. We will. We should. I can't. We

think we're wonderful.

Are you sure?

I'm thinking it out. Then we're off. We are. There's no need to shout. We shall.

All right.

And we're off on our way, what a beautiful day for a weekend in the

country. Taking rambles, having leisurely chats. A weekend in the

country with the brambles and the gnats. A weekend in the country full of

craning, to see grass in the nests. A weekend in the country entertaining

other guests.

I'll receive them in the bread room and impress them with a feast.

then retire to my bedroom where I'm planning to stay until Monday at least.

A weekend in the country, rising early to go out and lie down. A weekend in the

country where... A

weekend in the country, the bees in their

hives. The shallow worldly figures, the

frivolous... lives.

The devil's companions know not whom they

serve. It might be instructive to observe.

There is, however, one little snag. A snag? Yes.

Lawyer Eggerman is married.

Oh dear, that could be considered a snag.

I was not raised by your grandmother for nothing.

We ramble, we ramble, we ramble, we ramble, we ramble, we

ramble.

We'll be laying our plans while we're playing cocaine On a weekend in the

country With umbrellas to avoid getting brown A weekend in the country Where?

Where? Where?

What's that? I merely said... Oh, never mind.

If that damn lawyer thinks he's going to get away with something... Indeed,

dear. Watch him, Charlotte.

Watch them both like... A hawk?

Your handkerchief.

Thank you. You must have dropped it.

Oh, Master Eric, your book.

Thank you. You must have dropped it.

Here, let me... Let you what?

Good day, sir.

I was not aware that you would be a fellow guest.

And neither is Miss Armfeldt.

Ah, here you all are.

Disgusting, darling.

Count Mittle, I... My wife and I were in the neighbourhood to visit her cousin.

Unhappily, on arrival, we discovered that the chateau had been quarantined

for, uh,

um... Plague.

Oh?

As I am due back on maneuvers at dawn, we venture to propose ourselves for the

night.

Oh, yes?

Indeed.

Oh, why not? My mother will be honored.

Surprised, but honored.

Countess Mittelheim.

I presume.

You do indeed.

Mr. Eggerman, how kind of you all to come.

Mother will be overjoyed.

It is your mother who is kind in inviting us.

I must talk to you as soon as possible.

Allow me to present my wife.

How do you do?

How do you do?

And this is my daughter.

My son, Eric.

Well, I'm sure you're all exhausted after your long journeys.

The servants will show you to your rooms.

So you've come too?

We must talk at the earliest opportunity.

Oh, why did I ever come to this terrible woman's house?

I want to go home.

Have no fears.

Miss Armfelt has met her match.

She has who?

Me. When I told my husband about your invitation, he instantly became a tiger.

His word, of course.

And then, as if from heaven, a plan flashed into my mind.

Do you feel up to hearing my plan, dear?

I shall make love to your husband.

You too?

Confident of my own charms, I shall fling myself into your husband's arms.

He will succumb.

Why not?

Carl Magnus, in a storm of jealousy, will beg my forgiveness and swear

eternal fidelity.

And as for Miss Desiree Armfelt...

She will be back peddling her dubious commodities elsewhere.

At least that is the plan.

Oh, how amusing.

How extremely amusing.

Poor old Frederick.

And it serves him right, too.

I'm not sure I appreciate that remark, dear.

Oh, please go on. That was beautiful.

Beautiful. It was cacophonous. The self-indulgent ramblings of a bungler.

Oh, if only you knew.

Oh, Miss... Miss... Armfelt, I'm not legitimate.

I see.

Oh, Miss Armfelt, all my life I've made a fiasco of everything.

If you knew how poor an opinion I have of myself, if you knew how many times I

wish I'd been one of the spermatozoa that never reached the womb.

There, you see, I've done it again.

Mr Eggerman, I have toured in the theatre with my mother.

I am broad-minded.

You are?

Then in that case, might I make a confession to you? Of course.

I hate to burden you on so slight an acquaintance, but bottling it up inside

of me is driving me insane.

Oh, Miss Arnfeld.

For the past 11 months, although I am preparing to enter the priesthood, I...

What, Mr. Eggerman?

I have been madly, hopelessly in love with my stepmother.

Do you realize how many mortal sins that involves?

I should never have gone to the theater.

Then I'd never have come to the country If I never

had come to the country Matters might have stayed as they

were Sir?

Sir?

If she'd only been faded, if she'd only been fat,

if she'd only been jaded and bursting with chat,

if she'd only been perfectly awful, it

would have been wonderful.

If. If.

If she'd been on a Twitter or elusively cold, if she'd only been better or

better, look, passably old, if she'd been covered with glitter or even been

covered with mold, it would have been wonderful.

But the woman...

perfection to my deepest dismay well not quite

perfection I'm sorry to say if the woman

were perfection she would go away and that would be

wonderful sir sir

If she'd only looked flustered or admitted the worst.

If she only had blustered or simpered or cursed.

If she weren't so awfully perfect, it would

have been wonderful.

If. If.

If she'd tried to be clever, if she'd started to flinch, if she'd cried or

whatever a woman would do in a pinch, if I'd been certain she never again could

be trusted an inch, it would have been wonderful.

But the woman was perfection, not an action denied.

The kind of perfection I cannot abide.

If the woman...

If she'd only been vicious, if she'd acted abused, or a bit too delicious, or

been even slightly confused, if she had only been sulky, or bristling, or bulky,

or bruised, it would have been wonderful.

If, if she'd only been willful. If she only had fled.

Or a little less skillful. Insulted, insisting. In bed.

If she had only been fearful.

Or married. Or tearful. Or dead. It would have been wonderful.

But the woman was perfection and the prospects are grim.

That lovely perfection that nothing can dim.

Yes, the woman was perfection, so I'm here with him.

Sir?

Sir?

It would have been wonderful.

Excuse me, but Count Mittelheim, Mother says she'd like a word with you in the

green salon.

child is there something well

oh dear oh no oh no mr excuse

me

frederick

you wanted a moment alone with me i

believe Here it is.

Yes, but the child said that... Oh, that was only one of Frederica's little

stratagems.

Frederica?

Your child is called Frederica?

Yes.

Oh, honestly, Frederica.

What vanity.

As if you were the only Frederica in the world.

Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?

As a matter of fact, it was merely to let you know that my wife has no inkling

of the nightshirt episode.

So we must be discreet. Oh, but of course.

I wouldn't dream of giving that enchanting child one moment's anxiety.

So you do see her charm.

Oh.

How could anyone miss it?

Whenever a whole room falls silent, I'm reminded of a paternity trial in

Stockerow.

The judge was just sentencing my client when the mother of the child... What are

you doing here? Why not?

Well, you can imagine the look on his face.

So you won the case after all, Mr. Eggerman. How splendid.

Yes, I was rather proud of myself. Oh, and I'm sure you were tremendously proud

of him too, Mrs. Eggerman.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, yes, I expect so.

Although I don't seem to remember much about it.

I try not to bore my wife with my dubious victories in the courtroom.

Oh, how wise you are.

I remember when I was her age, anything less than a new dress or a ball or a

thrilling piece of gossip bored me to tears.

Dearest Miss Armfelt, do regale us with more fascinating reminiscences from your

remote youth.

Charlotte, that is an idiotic remark.

A man's youth may be as remote as a dinosaur, Countess, but with a beautiful

woman, youth merely accompanies her through the years.

Oh, Mr.

Eggerman, that is too enchanting.

And, dear, where on earth did you find this simply adorable husband?

I'm glad you approve of him.

Will you lease him to me, dear? Oh, freely. He's all yours. Unless, of

course, our hostess has other plans for him.

Well, actually, I had thought of seducing him into rolling the croquet

lawn tomorrow.

But I'm sure he'd find the countess less exhausting.

I wouldn't guarantee that.

My dear Mr. Eggerman, may tomorrow find us thigh to thigh, pushing the garden

roller in tandem.

That would depend on the width of the roller.

Oh, I am enjoying myself.

Dearest Miss Armfelt, let me drink to you who have made this evening possible.

To the one and only Desiree Armfelt, beloved of...

Hundreds.

Regardless, of course, of their matrimonial obligations.

Charlotte! You will go to your room immediately.

Stop it!

Stop it, all of you!

Are you reproving me?

I think if I were you, I would sit down.

Sit, Eric. Stand, Eric.

Am I to spend the rest of my life at your command like a lapdog?

Am I to respect a man who can permit such filthy pig talk in front of the...

The purest, the most innocent, the most wonderful. I despise you all.

Oh, Eric, how comical you look.

Smash this too.

Smash every glass in the house if you feel like it.

And you, you're an artist.

You play Schnitzler and Goethe.

Don't any of the truths of the great artists come through to you at all?

Are you no better than the others?

Why don't you just laugh at us all, my dear?

Wouldn't that be a solution?

How can I laugh when life makes me want to vomit?

Poor silly Eric. Someone should go after him. Anne!

Come back.

Ladies and gentlemen.

Tonight I am serving you a very special dessert wine.

It is from the cellars of the King of the Belgians, who during a period of

intense intimacy, presented me with all the bottles then in existence.

The secret of its unique quality is unknown.

But it is said to possess the power to open the eyes even of the blindest among

us. To life!

To life!

And the only other reality... Death.

Mr. Eggerman!

Mr. Eggerman!

Excuse me, but have you perhaps made another fiasco of something?

Oh, Miss Armfelt, I have outdone myself.

Acting like a madman, breaking an expensive glass, humiliating myself in

front of everybody.

Oh, Mr. Eggerman.

They laughed at me.

Anne.

Everyone.

Laugh at it all. That's what your mother said.

Well, if all you can do is laugh at the cynicism, the frivolity, the lack of

heart, well, I'd rather be dead.

Excuse me.

Oh, Mr. Eggerman!

Oh, Mrs. Eggerman, I'm so terribly worried.

You poor dear, what about?

Mr. Eggerman, the younger that is, he's in such a state of mind.

Dearest Frederica, all you were witnessing was the latest crisis in his

love affair with God. Not with God, Mrs. Eggerman, with you.

Me? Oh, yes, he told me so himself.

Oh, the poor boy, how ridiculous of him.

And yet, how charming.

Mrs. Eggerman, he ran towards the lake.

to gaze over the ornamental waters and dream of me. How touching.

Such a good-looking boy, isn't he? Such long, long lashes.

Eric, what an extraordinary.

Eric, how comical you look.

Oh, no.

You didn't.

For me?

Oh, my poor darling Eric.

My poor boy.

Gazing at me like a lost Saint Bernard.

I love you.

I've actually said it.

Poor old French.

I ripped my hem on that dining room table.

And all that furor.

Is this all right?

Of course.

Come in.

Sit down.

We're back at the point where we were so rudely interrupted last week, are we?

Not quite.

If you'll recall, we'd progressed a step further.

How true.

I imagine neither of us is contemplating a repeat performance.

Good heavens!

With your wife in the house, and my lover, and his wife, and my daughter.

And my devoted old friend, your mother.

Isn't my dragoon awful?

When you told me he had the brain of a pea...

I think you were being generous.

What in God's name are we laughing about?

What?

Your son was right at dinner.

We don't fool that boy for a moment.

The one and only Desiree Armfeld.

Dragging around the country in shoddy tours, carrying on with somebody else's

dim-witted husband.

And the great lawyer Eggerman.

Busy renewing his un-renewable.

That's probably an accurate description of us both.

Shall I tell you why I really invited you here?

When we met again, we made love.

I thought, maybe here it is at last, a chance to turn back, to

find a sort of...

coherent existence after so many years of muddle.

Of course, there's your wife.

But I thought, perhaps, just perhaps,

you might be in need of rescue, too.

From renewing my unrenewable youth.

It was only a thought.

When my eyes are open and I look at you, I see a woman

I have loved for a very long time, who entranced me all over again when I came

to her rooms, who gives me such genuine pleasure that in spite of myself,

I came here for the sheer delight of being with her again.

The woman who could rescue me?

Of course.

But when my eyes are not open, which is most of the time, all I

can see is a young girl in a pink dress teasing a canary.

Running through a sunlit garden.

Or waiting to hug me at the front door as if I'd... I'd come home from Timbuktu

instead of the municipal courthouse. Isn't it rich?

Are we up here?

Me here at last on the ground You in midair

Send in the clouds

Isn't it bliss?

Don't you approve?

One who keeps tearing around One who

can't move Where are the

clowns? Send in the

clowns

Just when I'd stopped opening doors

Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours

Making my entrance again with

my usual flair Sure

of my life

No one is there.

Don't you love us?

My fault, I fear.

I thought that you'd want what I want.

Sorry, my dear.

Desiree, I'm sorry.

I should never have come.

To flirt with rescue when one has no intention of being saved.

Do try to forgive me.

my timing this late in my career

and where are the

clowns there ought to be

clowns well maybe

next year

Will you tell me what all this is for?

It's all there is, isn't it?

Oh, I know it's often discouraging.

And to hope for something too much.

Like the summer night smiling and granting your wish.

It's childish.

Because what you want so rarely happens.

Astounding.

When I was your age, I wanted everything.

There was a Croatian count.

He was my first lover.

I can see his face now, such eyes, and a mustache like a brigand.

He gave me a wooden ring.

A wooden ring? Which had been in his family for centuries, it seemed.

But I said to myself, a wooden ring?

What sort of man would give you a wooden ring?

And so I tossed him out right there and then.

And now, who knows?

He might have been the love of my life.

Forgive me, Countess. I was looking for my wife. Oh, Mr. Eggerman.

How can I face you after that exhibition at dinner?

Throwing myself at your head.

Oh, on the contrary. I found it most morale-building.

It's not very often these days that a beautiful woman does me that honor.

I didn't.

I beg your pardon?

I didn't do you that honor.

It was just a charade.

A failed charade.

In my madness, I thought I could make my husband jealous.

Ah, I see.

I'm afraid marriage isn't one of the easier relationships, is it? Mr.

Eggerman, for a woman...

It is impossible.

It's not all that possible for men.

Men?

Look at you.

A man of an age when a woman is lucky enough if a drunken alderman pinches her

derriere at a village fete, and yet you have captured the youngest, the

prettiest. Oh, Mr. Eggerman, I hate you being happy.

I hate anyone being happy.

Eric.

Eric, dearest.

I'm coming.

Hurry.

To hell with St.

Augustine. Let all the birds nest in my hair. Oh, silly.

Hurry.

The gig should be ready at the stables.

How strange that one's life should end sitting on a bench in a garden.

Good God.

To think I was actually saying that I hate you being happy.

It's as if I carry around some terrible curse.

Oh, Mr.

Eggerman.

Carl Magnus. Sir, you will accompany me to the pavilion.

I think the situation speaks for itself.

Carl Magnus, you won't be too impulsive, will you, dear?

The lawyer and I are merely going to play a little Russian roulette.

Russian roulette?

Well, sir.

Are you ready, sir?

I beg your pardon, ready for what?

Russian roulette.

Oh, Russian roulette.

That's with a pistol, isn't it? And you spin the...

Well, why not?

Excuse me, madame.

You will return to the house and see that we are not disturbed.

Yes, dear.

Well, sir?

Oh, yes, exactly.

Excuse me, but just what was one supposed to do?

The revolver is loaded with only one bullet.

You close your eyes, spin the cylinder, then press the muzzle of the weapon to

your temple and pull the trigger.

Each one of us repeats this procedure twice.

That makes the odds ten to two.

That would be equivalent to five to one, I imagine.

I spin the weapon.

Whoever the muzzle points at goes first.

You too, sir

To

all

faithful wives

I beg your pardon.

I forgot my toast.

What is going on?

Where is your husband?

How refreshing that this time it is you who are asking that question, Miss

Armfelt. My husband and Mr. Eggerman are dueling in the pavilion.

Dueling? Dueling.

And you let them do it? Are you out of your mind?

To the... legal.

Profession. I've always held it in great respect.

Oh my God!

You murderous!

My dear Miss Armfelt, he merely grazed his ear.

I trust his performance in the law court is a trifle more professional.

Frederick!

Frederick!

Frederick!

You will pack my things.

I will have the car ready.

Yes, dear.

Call Magnus.

You became a tiger for me

Extraordinary

isn't it to hold a muzzle to one's temple and yet to miss

A shaky hand, perhaps, is an asset after all.

Does it hurt?

It hurts.

Spiritually.

You've heard, I imagine, of the evening's other event.

No.

Eric and Anne ran off together.

Oh, Frederick.

Well, I think I should get up and confront the world. Don't you?

Isn't it rich?

Are we a pair?

You here at last on the ground.

Mid-air.

Knees wobbly?

No. No, it seems not.

In fact, it's hardly possible, but... Was that a farce?

My fault, I fear.

Me as a merry-go-round.

Me as...

King Lear.

How unlikely life is to lose your son, your wife, and practically

your life within an hour, and yet to feel relieved.

Relieved, and what's more, younger.

Oh, Desiree.

Poor Frederick.

No.

We'll banish poor from our vocabulary and replace it with coherent.

Coherent? Don't you remember your manifesto in the bedroom?

A coherent existence after so many years of muddle.

You and me, and of course, Frederica.

Make way for the clowns Applause

for the clowns They're

finally here

And love is a lecture on how to correct your mistakes.

Thank you.