All language subtitles for Follow.Me.1972.720p.BluRay.x264-SPOOKS-eng

This is a story about one
of the most powerful men in the world.

More powerful than any tribal king.

More powerful than any politician
or priest or even psychoanalyst.

His office is a combination of
cabinet room and confessional.

All over the western world,

thousands look to him to save them
from poverty, ruin and despair.

Look, you've got to help me, Mr. Sidley.
This tax business is killing me.

I lie awake at nights
thinking about it.

The truth is, I just can't
afford to earn all this money.

Is there no way I can make
a complete loss in one year?

You must realize
as a self-employed writer,

there's virtually nothing
you cannot claim off your tax.

Everything
is deductible.

Have you got a secretary?
No.

Well, get one. A maid?
No.

Get one. A wife?
No.

But I've got a girlfriend.
That's not deductible.

But I don't want a wife.
Of course you do.

I calculate a saving of 12 to 15
percent on those three items alone.

Everyone in your tax bracket
should have a wife.

Could you enlarge
a little on these doubts?

What would you say if your wife
came in all hours of the night

and left first thing in the morning?
With no explanation?

Well, this morning she said she wanted to
watch the sun come up from Parliament Hill.

And this seems
to you improbable?

Damn it, man. You think I'm a fool?
No, no.

Yesterday morning
she came in at 1:20.

Did you ask her
where she'd been?

If I ask her anything, I get a
shrug, a silence and then a sulk.

Of course I don't count.

I'm a square, and squares have no feelings.
It's as simple as that.

The moral of this shabby
story is very plain.

Marry someone of
your own background,

or better still,
don't marry at all.

Good day, Mr. Mayhew. There's
no point in continuing this.

My dear sir,
there's every point.

Now, please.
Please.

One's marriage is at an
end, and that is that.

You've no real evidence
to assume so, Mr. Sidley.

Evidence? She's seeing someone else.
It's obvious.

Probably several.

She comes from California, and
it's apparently required there

to bed down with a different
partner every night.

Oh, this is despicable. Forgive
me for wasting your time.

My dear sir, it's not
despicable to be jealous.

In my view
it's even noble.

This is our Mr. Parkinson.

He can be relied on
absolutely.

How do you do?
How do you do?

It is now the 28th,
Mr. Sidley.

Mr. Parkinson will start
investigating your wife immediately

and will see you in your
office in two weeks' time.

That will be
September the 11th.

If the lady is innocent,
no harm will have been done.

If regrettably she is not,

well, then what harm will
have been done anyway, hmm?

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Your heart is the heart ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Softly ♪

♪ Slowly ♪

♪ You look my way ♪

♪ No words are said ♪

♪ But still I hear ♪

♪ Inside my head ♪

♪ Follow ♪

Oh. Good morning, Mr. Sidley.
Good morning.

You only have two
appointments this morning.

Yes. One at 10:00 with a Mr. Parkinson?

You seem to have written him in yourself.
Yes, that's right.

Show him in as soon
as he arrives, will you?

And a Mr. Scrampton
at 11:00.

Thank you, Miss Framer. Would you
get my wife on the phone, please?

Oh, don't... bother, Miss Framer.
I'll get her myself.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello.

It's you, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Say something.
I dare you. Go on.

Come on. Say something.

It's all right. I'm alone.

It is you, isn't it?

Say something, you beast.

Overwhelming.

Hmm.

Your reference books.
They're overwhelming.

Who are you?
What are you doing?

And how imposing
they look on the shelves.

Sacred ranks of learning.

- How did you get there?
- Through the door.

And how long have you been up there?
Half an hour.

Half an hour?
Mm-hmm.

You didn't notice me,
did you?

No, don't apologize, please.

Very few people do.

Anyway, it's a positive joy
to wait in a room like this.

Webster's Dictionary.

Chambers's Encyclopaedia.
Whitaker's Almanack.

Even the names have a certain
leathery beauty. Don't you agree?

Are you a salesman?

Ah, forgive me.
I was lapsing.

Well, I was once.
But then I was everything once.

I had 23 positions before I was 30.
Really?

Oh, I know
what you're thinking.

A striking record of failure,
but you are wrong.

I never fail jobs. They fail me.
The life goes out of them.

Forgive me.
Am I talking too much?

I presume you want
to see me professionally.

Well, it's rather
more that I have to.

Not that I don't want to see you, of course.

I'm rather busy
this morning.

Let me make an appointment
for next week.

Would you bring the book,
please, Miss Framer?

I must say I hardly approve of
your methods of entrance, Mr....

Cristoforou.

Cristoforou?

Yes. It's a little
downbeat, I admit.

It suggests Balkan cigarettes
and conspirator mustaches.

I don't care for it. However,
it's not to be avoided.

My father was
a Rhodes scholar.

I mean by that he was
a scholar from Rhodes.

Why don't you
just call me Julian?

That's a good
between-the-wars name.

That's
my mother's influence.

She was almost
defiantly English.

When can I make an appointment
for this gentleman, Miss Framer?

Well, your earliest would be
Tuesday morning, Mr. Sidley.

Tuesday morning? Mm, I don't
really like Tuesdays.

They are an indeterminate
sort of day.

Mr. Cristoforou, I'm hardly noted
for my patient disposition.

I'm delighted
to hear that.

"Patience
too long controlled

turns to cruelty."

It's an old Persian proverb.
Or it could be Hindu.

Will you please tell me
when you want to see me?

Well, it's more when you
want to see me, isn't it?

I have no special relationship with
the day of the week, Mr. Cristoforou.

No more have I
in the final analysis.

They don't actually prevent
me from doing things on them.

They merely encourage
or discourage.

Well, shall we say
Tuesday then?

All right. If that's the
soonest you can manage.

I must confess
to feeling surprised.

I'd imagined you
differently.

You're in some kind
of trouble?

"Your trouble
is mine, sir."

It's one
of my little mottoes.

Not inappropriate,
I think.

Still, of course,
I mustn't be unreasonable.

After all,
you're paying.

I'm what?

Paying.

Mr. Cristoforou,
wait a minute.

We seem to be talking at cross-purposes.
Would you like a macaroon?

Would you state your
business with me precisely?

What? You mean
you don't know it?

How can I?
Well...

You mean you don't know
why I'm here?

How appalling.

I'm really agonized.

Well?
Well, what must you think of me?

Chattering away, with you not
even knowing why I'm here.

Well, I'd assumed...

Then you shouldn't
assume anything,

least of all
in my business.

I'm afraid
it's typical of me.

My wits are scattered when
they should be most collected.

Who are you?

I'm Parkinson's
replacement.

Replacement?
Mm-hmm.

From Mayhew & Figgis.

You know. "No stone unturned,
no pound unearned."

And where is he?

Oh. Ten days ago,

he was thrown down an elevator
shaft in Goodge Street.

They're very
dangerous things.

Mr. Parkinson was killed?

Hmm.
Incapacitated.

Why?

Oh, hazards of the game.

Ours is a dangerous life,
Mr. Sidley.

Oh, don't worry.

Parkinson wasn't on your
case when it happened.

Shh. Come back
into the office.

You haven't got a spoon
on you by any chance?

Spoon?
Yeah, for my yogurt.

I always eat when I'm embarrassed
or, as in this case, agonized.

Are you free now?
I won't keep you a moment, Mr. Scrampton.

Ha. Where there's a secretary,
there's always a teaspoon.

The office was meant to
telephone and say I'd be here.

They obviously forgot.
Come in and close the door.

Yeah, very embarrassing
for both of us.

You mustn't worry,
Mr. Sidley.

I really am a superb detective.

You see, it's one of the few jobs where
being a nondescript is an advantage.

I would hardly describe you as nondescript.

Oh, yeah. I attained
nondescript a long time ago.

Last year
I became characterless.

This year
I became superfluous.

Next year
I shall be invisible.

Would you
give me your report?

Ah, I'd prefer
to read it myself.

I've taken a lot of trouble
with the style.

All right.
Only get on.

Ah.

Oh, how appalling.

I'm agonized.

Oh.

You must excuse me,
Mr. Sidley,

for having
so much food on me.

But being a detective,

meals become
awfully irregular.

Sometimes you
miss them altogether. Ah.

Are you sure you wouldn't like a macaroon?
They're very sustaining.

Positive, thank you.

I would just like the
information I am paying for.

I'm not quite sure
what that is, Mr. Sidley.

Are you joking?
Not at all.

If you wish to know whether your wife
is being sexually unfaithful to you,

I must point out
that it is extremely difficult

for a private eye
to witness copulation.

Really?
Oh, yes.

It is even more difficult to
witness the desire for copulation.

Inevitably, therefore,
there is no proof

that your wife has slept
outside her marriage bed.

Then you have
nothing to tell me.

Oh, well, I wouldn't say that.

Then what would you say?

In a word,
what would you say?

May I take my coat off?

You see, there is something so
intimate about a document like this,

a raincoat
seems inappropriate.

Mr. Cristoforou, you may discard
as many garments as you please

as long as you convey to me and
quickly the contents of that report!

Thank you.
You're very kind.

Well?
Well, uh, Mr. Sidley,

at the risk
of driving you mad,

I'd like to ask you a favor.

What?

Well, you know, I wasn't assigned
to this case originally,

so I lack some of the facts.

Would you oblige me
by answering a few questions?

Well, what about?

Your engagement
to this girl?

May I ask why?

Well, stories of courtship
could be very revealing.

You are here simply to tell me
your findings, and that is all.

I can't, Mr. Sidley.
Trust me.

Indulge me if you like.

But tell me things.

What kind of things?

For example,
watching from a distance,

I wouldn't have thought

that Mrs. Sidley was at all
the kind of wife you would have.

Why? What kind of wife
would you imagine?

Some dreary little
debutante, I suppose.

Oh, no, no, no.
Of course not.

Why not?
It's what everybody else expected me to have.

My colleagues, other
accountants, my mother.

It's perfectly simple. You need a girl
who is not a frump and not a floozy.

You're just not trying,
that's all.

Julia Yelverton's boy's been
married three times already,

and he's not yet 30.

And my friends
were almost as bad.

If you don't take
the plunge soon, mate,

you're going to end up
as an Old Mud.

You know what that means,
don't you?

Masculine for an Old Maid.

Well, the truth was,
I didn't know one girl

I could put up with for a
weekend, let alone a lifetime.

Oh, there are a great many dreary
sisters of business friends.

A great many dreary daughters
of business clients.

There are even one or two dollies
who kept an excellent pillow.

And that was all.

I suppose
I virtually settled

for being that perfectly
understood Victorian phenomenon,

the confirmed bachelor.

I used to enjoy
eating out.

I suppose food is something
of a hobby of mine.

Oh, it is of mine too.
Yes. Well, anyway,

one evening when I was idly wandering
around looking for a new place to eat,

suddenly it all happened.

Hi.

Good evening.
Good evening.

Are you... open?

Oh, sure.

It's just we don't look like it
because we're very new

and not many people
have heard of us yet.

As a matter of fact, we haven't
had a customer all evening.

Well, let me be your first.
Great.

Uh, where would you
like to sit?

Oh, this will do fine.
Okay.

I must say you have
a formidable menu.

We pride ourselves on it.

Who's we?
I guess I should say the management.

I just work here.

Well, what is
Steak Nebuchadnezzar?

Um...

Yeah. Just a second.
I'm sorry. I always forget.

It's a sirloin, with peaches
and peppers flared in brandy.

And Lamb Belshazzar?

Cutlets with blackberries.

Blackberries flared in whiskey.

They seem to go in for rather
a lot of flaring round here.

Yeah.

Have you nothing plainer?

Oh. Um, plainer.

Uh, how about a chicken
with caramel?

That's a Babylon Special.

I... I could try.

So one Babylon Special, right?

Right.
Right.

One special!

Okay.

Every customer gets
one glass of wine free.

That's very generous.
Yeah.

Are you living here?
Uh, just passing through.

I'm in transit.
Oh.

I guess I'm always in transit.
That's my life.

Well, it's everyone's life
really, isn't it?

Is it all right?
Oh, yes. It's just fine.

I've just been to India.
Oh, have you?

Yep. Ten friends and I came over
from the States last Christmas.

We spent all our money on a
broken-down old double-Decker bus

and drove it
all the way to India.

It finally broke down
in Kathmandu,

and we all had to find
our own way back.

I've just got this far.

You ever slept 11 in a bus?

Uh, no. Can't say I have.
What's it like?

Well, ten's company,
11's a crowd.

One special.

One special.

Whatever you do, don't touch the plate.
It's very hot.

Oh, no. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh.

I'm sor... Oh, I'm sorry.

I believe I said I didn't
want it with caramel.

A few nights later, I took her
to a restaurant of my choosing,

where they went in for rather less flaring.

What did you have to eat?

Does it matter?
Well, it matters to me.

Special meal, I hope.

Melon and golden figs.

Pork and honey.
Cherry brandy soufflé.

It was a very plain meal.
We began with whitebait.

Whitebait?

You mean those disgusting little
fish you have to eat complete?

The little heads,
the little eyes, everything?

They're delicious actually, washed
down with a dry white wine.

Oh, you gave her
dry white wine.

How tasteful.

Quite beyond my behavior.

Tell me more.

I suppose for months I'd felt myself
slipping away into middle life,

journeying, as it were,
into a colder latitude.

Now suddenly I felt warmer.

Belinda.
What a splendid name.

Do you like it?
I love it.

It's absolutely 18th century.
Thank you.

I gave it to myself.
My real name's Janet.

Isn't that tacky?

That's the kind of name
my parents thought was modest.

Where do they live?
In Los Angeles.

About three miles apart.

You mean
they're divorced?

My father married again.

I... I don't see them.

This wine
is fantastic.

It's got a... almost barbecue taste.
It's agreeable, isn't it?

It's called Sancerre, and it
comes from the Loire Valley.

Hmm. I bet I'm the single most
ignorant person you've ever met.

I don't just mean about wines. I
mean about culture and everything.

You think that's important?
Oh, yeah.

If you take away music
and art and painting,

people don't amount
to much, do they?

I've only just
figured that out.

Well, it's all a question of personal
taste. I mean, for instance...

Look.

What's this?

It's beautiful.
What is it?

Guess.

Uh... I don't know.

Um, a royal Persian
pastry cutter.

Cold.

Um... You wore it
on your... on your...

If you broke your fingernails
in ancient China.

You're getting
warmer.

It's jewelry, right?
Hot.

A forehead thing.

Circlet of the moon.
Goddess.

Colder.
Colder.

I mean, what...
It can't be a nose thing.

Why not?
Is it a nose thing?

Precisely.
A nose ring.

Isn't it quaint?

Yeah. Who wore it?

The trendy set used to wear them in India.
In Ind... Really?

When?
600 AD.

600 AD?

Mmm, 700. 800.
Maybe nine.

Fashions change rather slowly
in that part of the world.

You could have bought that in their
Tiffany's anytime over 500 years.

It was one
of their standard items.

Mind you it's well-known

that they had tougher
nostrils than we do.

They did?
Yes. As a result of playing all those nose flutes.

Nose flutes?
Well, of course.

If you had to play a ceremonial nose
flute for two days without stopping,

your nostrils
would get tough too.

Oh, yes, it probably would.

It's lovely.

No. I mean,
would you accept it?

Um, I...

I mean, I wouldn't expect
you to wear it properly.

I could buy you a little chain.
No, really, I...

Why not?
Well, it must be awfully expensive.

No, it wasn't really.

I'd like you to have it.

You... You don't
even know me.

Oh, we could
correct that.

Oh, wow.

Aldous Huxley called that

the greatest painting
of silence in the world.

Who's Aldous Huxley?

Well, he was a writer.

Without my asking for it, she offered
me her whole life for remaking.

Did it need it?
I rather think so.

She had had some contact
with the arts. It's true.

Actually, she'd been living in
a commune with two artists,

one of whom fried his
canvases on a gas stove

whilst the other spat the paint
onto his direct from his mouth,

thereby expressing contempt
for society, I believe.

It's not surprising really

that she reacted to a little
tactful reform with enthusiasm.

That's Bellini's
portrait of the doge.

What's a doge?

Well, sort of
a king of Venice.

He looks like the patron
saint of all accountants.

Why do you say that?
He's so pruny-looking.

Do I look like that?

Sure you do,
most of the time.

So I tried
to become less pruny.

I changed my car, and then
I taught her to drive.

This is a really beautiful
example of a Tudor home.

It was built in the 1520s
by a courtier of Henry VIII.

See how they've used
terracotta instead of stone?

Hmm.
That's the Italian influence.

They say that it was here that
Henry first met Anne Boleyn.

How romantic.

It really was. She quite
lost her head over him.

You.

Ha, ha.

People who know
as much as you are scary.

Oh, yes.
No, really, I mean it.

That's silly.
I'm just an accountant.

You're much more
than that.

I don't believe
one head can hold so much.

I really don't know anything.

All right.
What's that music then?

Mahler. Fifth Symphony.

There you are.

Well, that's just something
I happen to know.

Oh, sure.

Do you know the strange
thing about Mahler?

You can virtually play
his symphonies in any order

and not be able to tell
which he wrote first.

He never
fundamentally changed.

Ah, that's like a curse,
isn't it?

Suddenly I had someone to share
things with, show things to.

Hmm. And she, did she show things to you?

She did try to show me things.
Some things.

How to dance, for example.

Will you?

Will I...

what?

What went wrong?

Well, for instance,
soon after our marriage,

I had a few of my friends and business
associates in to meet Belinda.

Did you go
to Aldeburgh this year?

No, we didn't. We
went to Chichester.

I haven't been since they
did that Inca thing.

It was great fun.

The festival people invited us actually.
Buffy's on the committee.

Oh, is he?

No, thank you.

So glad you
came to join us.

We were in Saint-Tropez.
How was that?

Unbearable.
Simply jigging with hippies.

Of course one sees them
everywhere these days.

Hello.
Hello.

Um, would you like some food?
No, thank you.

If I ate
one teeny little anchovy,

I'd be coiled
like a hoop all night.

In my opinion, the Conservative
Conference was an absolute disgrace.

Look at the way they voted to
bring back the death penalty.

For people who kill policemen,
I rather support that.

Of course you do.
That's not the point.

They should have voted to bring
back hanging for all murders.

I agree. Yeah, the
law has gone soft,

like an overripe melon.

In some countries, they used to
cut off the hands of a thief.

Both of them?

The left hand
for the first offense.

The right hand
for the second.

I think
that's a bit severe.

Possibly.

But the incidence of
thievery is now very low.

We need a return to the
old-fashioned law enforcement.

Bring back the pillory
and the stocks.

Bring back
the whipping post.

No. No. No. Let the rapist
feel some of the pain

he inflicted
on his poor victim.

Why don't they
just chop it off?

I beg your pardon?

Chop off his thing.

That would make sure
he'd never do it again.

Belinda's just joking.

No, I'm not.
I think it's a good idea.

Chop off the offending parts.

Murderers lose their heads.
Um, spies their eyes.

Shoplifters their hands
and rapists their things.

It'd cut second offenses
down to nothing.

And it should be done
in public too.

Much, much more effective.

Hmm.

Uh, excuse me.

Don't you think you were
a little excessive in there?

I was?
What about them?

Lord Pauncefoot is a little more
experienced than you are, you know.

He does happen to be a magistrate.
Hmm.

I do have
an opinion sometimes.

I thought you wanted me
to enter into things.

You certainly did, with a bang.

I think we ought
to go back in.

Mmm.
I tell you what.

You go in. You can
manage by yourself.

And after they've all gone, I'll make us
one of my leftover specials just for us.

Bribery?
Yes.

I really don't think
it's a very good idea.

I mean, they are our friends, you know.

Yes.
They like you. They've told me so.

Do they? That's nice.

It's my fault, I know. I just don't seem
to be able to relate to any of them.

Well, isn't it just
a question of trying?

Mmm. I think it's
a question of vibes.

- Vibes?
- Hmm. Vibes.

Vibrations.

They are people, you know.

Just be natural.

You'll find the vibes
will take care of themselves.

Just be yourself.

Hmm.

How came the change?

Perhaps it was a result
of different backgrounds,

different tastes, different
likings, dislikings.

These basic differences
began to grow

until they were all
out of proportion.

These last few weeks
it's got worse.

When you're in the throes
of courtship and honeymooning,

you're not conscious
of them.

You're not conscious of them until
the marriage begins to settle.

And within six months, my
gay young pupil vanished.

In her place sat
a secretive little girl.

Hi.

Are you enjoying that book?

Or do you find its style
too composed?

No, I like the style.

I just feel
so sorry for her.

Why?

Because she's trapped.

If anyone, one should feel
sorry for the husband, surely.

No. He's a drag.

I'd say it's really his
fault she takes a lover.

Indeed.

You know, my dear,
people aren't necessarily drags

just because they don't go about disguised
as motorcyclists or Hudson Bay trappers.

And I'm getting a little
weary of that word.

What? "Drag"?
All that jargon.

"Drag." "Right on."
"Far out."

I don't know. Whatever
the latest word is.

It's all so limiting.

It's not limiting
if it keeps changing.

Well, anyway.

Where were you
this evening?

I phoned at 6:00 and again at 8:00.
I was out.

I told you I was bringing a
special client home for dinner.

Lord Benson.
Exactly.

I had to take him
to my club.

But I thought
that was next week.

Really?
Yes, I could have sworn...

Well,
where were you anyway?

In a pub.

A pub?

Yeah.

In a pub.

Where was this pub?

In the East End.

Someone told me the East End
was the real London,

and I realized
I'd never been, so I went.

Charles,
it really was incredible.

There was this great crowd of
people all singing and dancing

and doing turns
in front of the mic.

Not professionals or anything.
Real people off the streets.

Who was this someone
who told you?

Um, oh, uh...
uh, just someone.

Belinda, this is your home,
you know, not a pub.

What does that mean, "home"?

A place we've got to be
at a certain time?

No, it's a place where you can
be found at certain times

because you like
being there.

I don't think you've known
many such places in your life.

I don't think
I've wanted them.

I guess I've always been afraid
of sitting in one place too long.

Belinda,
listen to me. I...

Marriage is a different relationship,
you know, to an affair.

It's actually a contract between
two people expressing obligation.

I have obligations to you.
You have to me.

I find that beautiful,
don't you?

Yes, if they're earned.
Earned?

Everything's got to
be earned, hasn't it?

"Everything's
got to be earned."

I wasn't exactly sure
what she meant by that.

And three days later, I wasn't
at all sure she knew either.

We'll take coffee
in the sitting room, Bertha.

Where on earth
can the poor girl be?

Oh, please don't worry,
Lady Crouch.

My daughter-in-law has only
the vaguest notion of time.

All the same, matey, I don't think
we should have started without her.

And had eight portions of burnt
duckling at two pounds a head?

These hired cooks cost enough as it is.
All right, Mother.

Hi, everybody.
I'm sorry I'm late.

Charles. Mrs. Sidley.
Hi, Sir Philip.

Lady Crouch. Ted.

Charles, I am sorry. I made the
most stupid mistake with buses.

Well, I'm glad
you've all eaten anyway.

Good-bye.

Don't you think you
owe me an explanation?

Or do you think "a mistake
with buses" is sufficient?

Oh, Charles, please.
I... I did say I was sorry.

Where exactly were you?

Windsor.
Windsor?

Hmm. In a park.

There's a great park there.
It's called Windsor Great Park.

Imagine that. And what
were you doing there?

I was looking at dolphins.

You were looking at dolphins?
Dolphins.

There's a whole family of them
in this sort of zoo thing.

And I was watching them
for ages,

and I forgot the time,
you see.

Then I had to wait hours
for a bus.

They only seem to run
every three days.

At least I could...
couldn't find one.

You spent your time this
evening watching dolphins.

Is that what
you're telling me?

They're so funny, Charles,
and so intelligent.

Were you alone?

They do the most
incredible tricks.

Were you alone,
Belinda?

No.

There were hundreds
of people there.

You know what I mean.

And you watched
these dolphins by yourself?

You traveled down there
by yourself?

Yes!

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

So there you are.
Are you satisfied now?

To me it's obvious beyond
any doubt what is going on.

And now, if it's not
too much trouble,

would you kindly read
that document?

With as little pleasure as one
can read such a document.

If I just could find it.

Now, look what a mess
I've made of it all.

Well, some of it is here.

I can read you
the first day at any rate.

Here. Listen to it.

Hmm. Here.

Report by J. Cristoforou

on the movements
of Mrs. C. Sidley.

Wednesday, 29 of August.

10:48.

Subject leaves house.

Walks east without undue hurry.

The day, what one might call a
typical English summer day.

She hails a taxi.

By the way, have you ever
considered what one does

when one's quarry hails a taxi and
there isn't another one in sight?

Subject proceeds to Madam Martha, hatmaker,

132 Mount Street.

Did you see in? Of course.

Who was there? Four other ladies.

Any men? I don't think so.

You don't think?

Well, they may have just
been dressed as ladies.

It's just a possibility in a hat shop.

Go on. Subject collects hat

and emerges wearing it.

Hat resembles a bunch of wilted
lettuce. Very unbecoming.

I recommended
that hat for her myself.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

11:53.

Subject in exquisite green hat

goes to the Michelangelo Coffee Bar.

She orders a Leaning Tower of Pisa.

What the hell's that?

Oh, it's a magical sundae
of peppermint ice cream,

tutti frutti, chocolate chips,

nougat, stem ginger
and molasses.

Your wife, Mr. Sidley,
is very partial to it.

So, as a matter
of irrelevant fact, am I.

Do you have
a sweet tooth yourself?

Never mind about my teeth.
What happened next?

She walked into Hyde Park

and performed certain actions
indicating lightness of heart.

What kind of actions? Oh,
just carefree gestures.

Nothing important.

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

Then she went up to the
statue of Peter Pan.

What a charming statue that is, by the way.

It almost persuades one
to believe in fairies.

Every few minutes she looks at her watch.

For a while,

I was absolutely convinced she had a date.

But then suddenly she left.

You followed her,
of course.

3:17.

Subject enters a cinema playing
a double bill of horror films.

Horror films?

She sat by herself?

Six hours and 20 minutes.

Six hours?

Yes. She saw them both twice.

And that's all
you have to tell me?

Hmm, essentially yes.

About the first day.

Well, I'll tell you some more when I find
the other papers about the other day.

It's not easy setting a
detective on your wife.

It must seem rather
bad form to you.

Or it would if, uh...
If I wasn't one myself.

Well, it still does,
Mr. Sidley, I must admit.

Despising? That's rather
rich, coming from you.

Why? They despise me
after all.

Well, what else do you expect?
Nothing. Nothing.

The client looks down
on the whore who relieves him.

It's a familiar pattern,
isn't it?

Charming image.

Yeah, but appropriate, I think.

Then why do you do it?
Well, private reasons.

Or to be exact,
public reasons.

I doubt if you would understand.

Mr. Scrampton's appointment.
Yes, yes. I'll see him in a moment.

Mr. Cristoforou, never mind about the
bloody report. Tell me the truth.

Does my wife have a lover?

There's someone else,
isn't there?

Mm-hmm.
Go on.

Well, I find it hard.

Go on.
What's he like? Young?

Yes. Handsome?

Yes. What else?
A hippie type, I suppose.

No. He's what you call
"with it," I suppose.

Well-dressed. The look of an aristocrat.
An aristocrat?

Yeah, he could easily be in the
diplomatic corps or something like that.

Why? How does he behave
towards her? Diplomatically?

Oh, yes. He shows great
restraint at all times.

You mean they don't actually kiss in public?
Certainly not.

Well, what do they do then?

Well, uh, watching
from a distance,

I'd say that their relationship
is one of the utmost tenderness.

They stare at each other.

They give each other
those secret little glances.

I believe the French call it...
Damn him.

Mr. Sidley.
What's his name? Where does he live?

Don't you know? You're a detective, aren't you?
Yes.

Well, why have you come here? I want
his name and address by tonight.

Mr. Sidley.
By tonight!

Mr. Sidley, don't talk to me like that.
I'm a professional man.

You're a sneaking,
prying impertinent...

I took the liberty of coming in.
Time is money with me, you know.

So if you can't see me, just say
so and I'll go somewhere else.

On, no, no, no. It's perfectly all right.
I was just leaving.

Well, let's get down
to it, shall we?

My time
is very limited.

It's London this morning,
Leeds this afternoon

and Reid's Hotel for commercial
gentlemen, Manchester by 10:00 tonight.

Good morning, Mr. Sidley.

That's the sort
of day I have.

Remember,
by tonight.

Mr. Sidley,
stop blaming me.

I didn't want to tell you.
You made me.

They're after me, Mr. Sidley.

I'll give it to you
in a nutshell.

I am a creator
of toilet specialities.

Two years ago, I invented a special
cleanser for the adolescent face.

Teen Kleen. Removes spots
and pimples like magic.

I sold it under a slogan that became
nationally famous on the television.

"Teen Kleen's the reason you
don't have to squeeze 'em."

We made a packet,
a regular bundle.

That's the trouble. I made
no bloody provision for it.

I know it's hard to believe,
but I kept no proper account.

Are you paying attention?

Oh, you kept
no proper account.

And now those bloody scoundrels are
after me for 30,000 pounds in back tax.

Oh, yes.
30,000 bloody pounds.

And why? Because I had the vision to
see a social need and cater for it.

I gave new hope to all whose love
life was ever ruined by acne.

To all them poor lads and lasses
with lumps and blotchy skin.

You're not
paying attention!

Miss Framer, would you give Mr. Scrampton
the address of Maitland, please,

and then ring them and ask if someone
in the office can see him immediately.

You'll be
well looked after there.

I shan't be back today,
Miss Framer.

What's wrong?
Nothing.

There's something. I can tell. Are you quite well?
Quite.

Are you sure you
haven't got pneumonia?

It's raging through London,
in case you didn't know.

Alice Mannering has got it.
So has Diana Featherclough.

So, I'm glad to say,
has that awful Mrs. Beadle.

I hear that yesterday
her temperature was 105

and she was
the color of seaweed.

I have not got pneumonia.
Thank you, Mother.

Then what's the matter with you? You've
eaten nothing, but you never do anymore.

Our Friday lunches together are
a complete disaster these days.

When you went to the altar, you could
have eaten a small cow for your lunch.

Now you can't even manage a slice
the size of a cocktail napkin.

If that isn't nature's revenge for an
unwise marriage, I'd like to know what is.

I'm prepared to forgive your
wife for not being able to cook.

As she was virtually born
in a coffee bar,

she's obviously never encountered
anything more complicated

than a Danish sandwich.

But she can't even see
when a man is totally run-down,

and that in a wife
is inexcusable.

Perhaps she's in the foyer,
old boy.

She must have arrived by now.
Yes, yes.

Charles.

Hello.
Good evening.

Well, you've only missed
the first hour.

Um, help me with the
drinks, will you?

Sorry. I know.
Where were you?

In a greenhouse.
What were you doing there?

Looking at it.
All evening?

No. No. Then I watched the
sun go down over this lake.

They have a lake there with beautiful
flowers planted all round it.

Hello, Charles.
Hello, Henry.

It must... It must be a kind of gardening center.
Yes.

You can buy anything there from a
watering can to a weeping willow.

Oh. I hadn't watched a
whole sunset in ages.

I mean, not the whole thing right up to
the moment when the last bit goes out.

Here you are, Charles. Take 'em,
old boy, before I drop 'em.

Ah. Ooh.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Please, we're both tired.
Let's not talk anymore tonight.

Oh, sorry.

And you're sure it was only
the sunset that kept you?

All right. No, it wasn't only the sunset.
Indeed.

It began when I thought how we
wouldn't be going to enjoy music.

First there'd be the music,

and afterwards you'd
question me about it

in a way that would make
me feel I'd missed it all.

Is that what I do?
All the time.

This place isn't my home.
It's my school.

Indeed?
Yes, indeed.

Okay, maybe I wanted
that from you.

Maybe I still want it. I want to
be taught things all my life,

but not by some
angry headmaster.

You used to call me
your little pupil.

But that's not right, because a pupil
is someone you train to be independent.

You don't want that for me.
I see.

Don't sulk.
Talk to me.

You know how I feel with you?
Guilty.

Really?
Yeah. You make me feel guilty most of the time.

Indeed?
Yes, indeed. Indeed.

There you go. That iceberg language
of yours. I can't stand it!

Oh, well, forgive me.

I should take more care
to pick my words.

I haven't your advantage
with the English language.

What's the matter with you?
You've changed so much!

I've changed?
If you could just see yourself.

You've become
so picky and gritty.

I'm sorry. You have a
go at me if you want.

I don't want to "have a
go," as you call it.

I expect you
to behave as a wife.

Is that utterly
incomprehensible to you?

Yes, it is!
Utterly.

What is that? A wife?
Something you get to be?

A wife, bang.
Then it's over?

Two people meet.
They're mad about each other.

They try everything they know
to attract each other.

Bits of knowledge, jokes, things they love.
Music, paintings, chop suey.

Walks in the country.
Remember?

Anything that can say "This is
part of me, and it's for you."

Then they get married
and all those gifts stop.

Like they're just devices
for attracting a mate.

Passports you can throw away as soon as
you've reached where you want to get.

Two fixed places called
"husband" and "wife."

We showed each other
the treasures we had.

You more than me
because you had more.

I just had... feelings.

You had Bellini and Darwin
and "The Marriage of Figaro."

Suddenly
all that stopped.

Now we give each other nothing.

We're safely married,
so we don't have to.

That's very cynical.

I'm trying to be honest.
Are you?

Are you sure about that?

Maybe I'm crazy.

Love, for me, has nothing
to do with contracts.

For me it's just

this burst of joy
that someone exists, that's all.

And with it comes a
huge great need to go and greet them.

That's the word. Greet.

I used to greet you
20 times a day.

Now it's hardly ever.

Now it's like you resent me half the time.
Resent?

It's all so dead
between us.

You can hardly expect
courtship to go on forever.

Oh, I do. It must!

Just because we're married the love
affair can't be over. It's never over!

If it's over, then the marriage is over.
Oh, God.

I-I put it badly.
I haven't got the words.

But I know we've got to
have new things every day.

New sights, new feelings, new joys!
New joys all the time.

And new lovers?

What?

And new lovers too?

For someone who's trying to be honest,
you make a pretty rotten showing.

Don't you?

What do you mean?

I know, Belinda. I know.

There's no need
for any more of this.

Know?

About him. Your man.

You can't.
Oh, but I do.

How? I may be an angry headmaster.
I'm not the village idiot.

Oh.

Don't you think
you'd better tell me?

No.

Is it so painful?

All right. Just... listen and
make what sense of it you can.

You know, um, how I've been
going out by myself lately?

I have noticed.
Mmm.

Well, I... I just wanted to be
alone, that's all. By myself.

I walked for days,

a wandering nothing.

Where did you go?

It doesn't matter. Streets. Parks.
Anywhere where I could be alone.

I felt invisible.

When I caught a glimpse of my reflection,
I was surprised there was anyone there.

One day for a change I
took one of those pleasure

boats that do little
trips down the Thames.

And there sitting across from me,
was an extraordinary-looking man.

Yes, I know.
Young, handsome, no doubt.

Debonair.
The look of a diplomat.

No. No. No.
Not at all like that.

He was a goofy little man in a white raincoat,
eating macaroons out of a paper bag.

He had the funniest expression, as if
he wanted to wink but didn't know how.

At first I though he was trying
to pick me up, but it wasn't that.

What I was seeing was... approval.

You know, I'd almost forgotten what it was
like to be looked at without criticism?

He made no attempt
to come any closer.

He just kept staring
at me all the time.

Made me feel rather
shocked for some reason.

When I got off the boat, I
thought that was the end of it.

But as I was walking down South
Audley Street, there he was again.

In the end, I-I dived into a hairdresser's
and had a totally unnecessary shampoo.

Taxi.

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

I suppose I'd have put him down as
some kind of a nut and forgotten him,

but he kept turning up.

We never make a date.

All that happens is that wherever
I go, he-he's sure to follow.

Like-Like Mary's
little lamb.

If he got a kick just following
me around who was I to complain?

Do you remember when I told you I'd been
to Windsor Park to see the dolphins?

I don't think you believed
me, but it was true.

And now, our
14-foot killer whale.

I s... I suppose at the start, I ought
to have been scared, but I never was.

All I knew was that
if I was the loneliest...

the loneliest girl in town,
he must be the loneliest man.

Ah, dear Juliet.

Why art thou yet so fair?

Shall I believe that
unsubstantial death is amorous?

And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
thee here in dark to be his paramour?

For fear of that, I still
will stay with thee.

Some days he would lead,
and some days I would.

I suppose
I ought to have told you I...

But I was afraid
you'd p-put an end to it.

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Oh!

Oh.

I suppose it amounts to this.

I've had the closest relationship
with a man I've never even spoken to.

What more can I tell you?

When I'm with him, I live.
I share all the time.

And because
there are no words,

everything's easy
and possible.

Hello. It's Julian
Cristoforou at this end.

Charles Sidley.
I beg your pardon?

Charles Sidley speaking. I'm coming
over immediately. Stay where you are.

I had no intention of leaving.

I'm just going out. I won't be long.
Please don't go. Not just now.

There's something
I have to take care of.

Uh...

Enter. It's not locked.

"He who locks his door locks his heart."
An old Indian proverb.

Or it could be Chinese.

Stand up.

You.
You bloody meddling...

"He who locks his door saves his strength."
A Greek proverb.

Let me up.
Now, what is all this?

I've done nothing to you.

Nothing? Only stolen my wife's affections.
That's all.

Oh, Mr. Sidley, your wife's affections
weren't stolen. They were going begging.

Blast you! Let me up.

I want to let you up, but as
soon as I do, you get violent.

You force me to
desperate measures, Mr. Sidley.

It's not fair of you.

- Will you let me up?
- Of course.

Do you think I am enjoying this? Holding you onto the floor?
Then get off me!

I will, I will,
when you are calm.

But I warn you.
Charles!

What's happened?
Are you all right?

Belinda, eh...
What do you think...

"Belinda."
What a beautiful name.

Excuse me.
Oh.

Uh, Charles, it's him.
What?

It's him.
The man.

It's him.
He knows.

Don't.
I'm afraid I must.

Uh, what do you mean,
he knows?

Please.
It's inevitable.

I ask as a friend.
You're not a friend.

Then as an employer. I order you to keep silent.
Order?

Employer?
What do you mean, employer?

Just a slip of the tongue. I meant he's a client.
On the floor?

I'm not his client, Mrs. Sidley.
In fact, he's mine.

Who are you?

All right.

He's a private detective...

I hired...
to spy on you.

No.
It was all I could think of. I was at my wit's end.

I know it's awful. But your
behavior was so odd. Admit that.

Don't touch me!

I don't want to see you again...
ever.

This is all your fault.
Mine?

You. You. You're the cause
of all the trouble!

Oh, of course, me. Why not?
Always blame the detective.

Without the faintest grounds for
suspicion, you set me on your wife.

Why? Vanity.

You couldn't bear the idea that
she'd just got fed up with you.

There had to be a lover,
didn't there?

First thing tomorrow morning, I'm
going to see that you're fired!

I'm agonized.

Belinda!

I forbid it.
I absolutely forbid it.

We have never had the police called in to
our family. We're not going to start now.

How else can I find her?

Do you want our name spread
all over the newspapers?

I don't give a damn about
the newspapers or our name!

Oh, very well.
There's no more to be said.

Go ahead and make a public
exhibition of yourself.

Actually, I can't think why
you're being so dramatic.

In my day, people disappeared all the time.
It was the thing to do.

Winnie Carstairs used to disappear
regularly for three days every Easter.

Lady String did it so often, they
used to call her the Indian rope.

In any case, they all
turned up again, to universal regret.

What do you want?

Excuse me,
but I have to know.

Where's Belinda?

What's that to you?
Did she come back to you?

No, she did not.

You mean she's been away
for 36 hours?

Oh, you're the detective.
You tell me.

Please, Mr. Sidley.

Let's not quarrel.

Can I come in?

In the first place,
I'm agonized with guilt.

After all,
I was working for you.

And I betrayed you.

I've punished myself
by resigning.

I'm no longer a detective.

Isn't that good? One less detective in
the world could only be a benefit to it.

May I say, with respect,
that you look ghastly?

So do you.

Yes.
Shall we eat something?

No, thank you.

When was the last time you ate?

Come, sit down
and tell me.

What are you going to do
about getting her back?

Nothing.

I had thought of the police,
but what's the good of that?

She's probably in
California by this time.

No, I don't think so.

What do you mean?
You know where she is?

Well, I could find her.
How?

I have my methods.

Which the regular police
know nothing about.

I have noticed.

Good health is very important at a time like this.
Could you do it?

I told you.
I'm a superb detective.

Then do.
For heaven's sake.

You really want her back?

You don't think
you are better on your own?

Does it look like it?
Very good.

I'll find her.

But whether
she comes back to you,

that I can't promise.

What do you mean
by that?

Well, she may wish to stay by
herself or go with someone else.

Someone else?

Hmm. We'll have to see
what she wants, won't we?

Hmm?

Well, what's my crime?

The fairy prince has turned
into a frog, is that it?

Go away.

At least let me explain to
you what kind of frog I am.

I know what you are.

A despicable little man who
breaks up people's marriages.

No, no, no, no. They do
that for themselves.

Why don't you just dick off
to your dick's office.

I can't. I haven't
got one anymore.

Oh, that's just tough.

How can you talk like this to someone who
has been as intimate with you as I have?

Intimate?
Certainly.

You and I spent ten days in this city as
blissfully as two people ever spent them.

Beware.

There is no sin in the world
more unpardonable

than denying you were pleased
when pleasure touched you.

You made a complete fool
out of me.

You call that pleasure?

That's not true.

I found you aimless in London.
I gave you direction.

I found you smile-less.
I gave you joy.

Not eternal joy
or even joy for a month.

But immediate, particular,
bright little minutes of joy,

which is all we ever get
or should expect.

Come on. Give up self-pity.
It doesn't become you.

I'll give up what I like.
Just leave me alone.

I should be very angry
with you.

It was no part of my job to sit
down on a boat and smile at you.

Who asked you to?
You did.

I did?

Of course.

Loneliness like yours
gives off signals.

Someone like me
has to pick them up.

For years now, I've been a man
with no private existence.

I have had no ideas,
no views,

no feelings
that were absolutely mine.

I came alive only
in a public situation.

Early in my life, I started taking
as many jobs as I could manage.

Sometimes three
and four at a time.

Simply...
to escape...

facing my own emptiness.

You wouldn't believe
the life I led.

I sold Jewish encyclopedias in East
London, Arab carpets in West London,

Scottish insurance
in North London,

Irish whiskey
in South London.

I took American tourists
to Greece...

and would just as cheerfully have taken Greek
tourists to America if I'd been asked.

Anything to escape
being alone with myself.

And then one day,
this job was offered to me.

I became a detective,

a public eye.

Even that started
to bore me...

until I saw you.

Then everything
became possible.

Do you know
what I'm saying?

You give life,
Belinda.

Oh, sure.

Look at Charles.
Charles?

Look at the life
I've given him.

But you're not
to blame for that.

He did that to himself.
No. It was me.

Mostly me, really.
Belinda.

Look, you don't have to follow me anymore.
You're not being paid now.

I'm sorry.

I would follow you without
payment for quite a long time.

It was nice.
Mmm.

We broke pleasure together,
like bread.

You're a strange man.

Where will you go now?

Finland, Iceland, Greenland, Blueland.
What does it matter?

Matters to me.

You called me a life-giver.
It's not true.

I'm the most selfish person
I've ever met.

Mm, I don't believe that.

Do you know how much pain you've got to
feel before you send for a detective?

I didn't even notice
with Charles.

Ah, but that's Charles.
He keeps everything to himself.

Vintage Englishman.

Well, he didn't used to be.

He was fun, really. We would
enjoy things together.

Oh, he was
a little pompous, I know.

But so what?

Before, most of my friends
were like nomads.

Off here.
Off there. And me too.

But not Charles. He always
seemed so sure and wise.

The trouble is,

it's like... it's like there's
a great list already made up,

and there's no room on it
for anything more.

Anything or anybody.

He doesn't need me.

What can I give him?

Belinda, please.
No, no. No, no.

No, Belinda. Please don't.

Belinda. Oh, God.

We'll have to dry your eyes.

Oh, oh, how appalling.
I'm agonized.

Let me dry your eyes, hmm?

A simple service
from a simple friend.

Eye-drying while you wait.

Come on. Look into my eye.
This one.

Do you know what this is? One of
the seven wonders of the world.

The completely public eye
which looks entirely outward.

Beside this eye, the eagle is
blind, the puma needs spectacles.

It possesses
the most watchful iris,

the most attentive cornea,

the most perceptive retina
in the Northern hemisphere.

And for ten days, it was
focused exclusively on you.

And it tells me,
alas, beyond any doubt,

that you still want
your husband.

No.

All right. If you don't,
why are you still here?

Why aren't you now
in California

instead of sitting about
in English greenhouses?

I don't know.

All you want is to find
your way back to him.

Oh, stop it. All that
magazine-y language.

I've got a magazine-y mind.

I should never have spoken.

When we were dumb,
we understood each other.

You want him back?

No. Not back. Forward.

That would be different.

If we could only
grow together.

If I could find the real Charles,
the man I know inside him.

The man whose face goes all veiled
with joy when he hears Mozart.

The man who says when he's
pleased, "It's agreeable."

Agreeable. Prim little word,
and the whole face sparkling.

I want him.

I see.

What shall I do?

You really want to try?

All right. Do for him what you did for me.
What was that?

For ten days, I walked through London, all
alone, except for you to point the way.

And slowly, in the depth
of that long silence,

I began to hear
a most wonderful sound.

The rustle of
my own emotions growing.

Incredible sensation. It's a
tickle of original feeling.

Belinda, you gave me the
only gift I really needed.

So give it to him.

How?

Do you trust me?
I don't know.

All right, put yourself under
my orders, and it could work.

Orders?

Let me be the first detective in
the world to cement a marriage.

What are you
going to do?

Hello.

Is that you?

If it's you, Belinda,
please speak.

This is Julian Cristoforou
at this end.

Well, have you found her?

Well, you'll do exactly as
I tell you, Mr. Sidley,

or it will be
the worse for you.

Look, have you found her?

You'll come to
your office right away.

Mr. Cristoforou, I'd like to know
whether Belinda is with you or not.

As I said, right away, or you'll
never see your wife again.

Oh. It took you a long
time to get here.

Where's my wife?

Shall we go home?

I'm sure we can discuss
everything calmly by ourselves.

Belinda.

Belinda, please,
I'm talking to you.

No, no, it's useless
to address her.

I'm appointed
to speak for her.

She is so shocked
by what you have done,

setting a low, sneaking,
prying detective on her,

that she is
leaving you forever.

Unless... You see, you're lucky.
There is an unless.

You have one chance of
keeping her, but only one.

You'll take my place
in the streets of London.

You will follow her
every day for ten days

at a distance
of 50 feet,

wherever
she chooses to go.

You will look at whatever
she chooses to point at.

You will listen to whatever
she chooses to hear.

You will sit, stand,
skip or shuffle,

entirely at her will.

And during all that time, not
even at the table or in bed,

will you exchange
one single word.

If there is something special you
want to show her, you may lead,

but it had better be good.

This is your will,
isn't it, Belinda?

The alternative
is divorce.

Division.

Endless separation.

Have you finished?
Absolutely.

If you have, would you keep...
Go, Belinda.

Stay, Belinda.

I suggest the Michelangelo
coffee bar for a start.

Make him eat
a Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Make him eat two.

Now, look, this is an
amusing joke, of course,

but do you really expect me
to follow you round London?

I admit I was at fault.
I admit it.

But the faults
were on both sides.

Even if mine
were more serious.

Belinda!
Go on. Follow her.

Very amusing.
It could be.

If she thinks I'm going
after her, she's mad.

I strongly advise you to.
Really?

You don't know my wife
as well as you think.

She'll be back
in... a few minutes.

Now will you go?

Do you wish me to ring for the
police and have you thrown out?

Do you wish to spend the
rest of your life alone?

All right, throw me out. Throw her out.
Throw everybody out.

Exactly what kind of time are you going
to have by yourself these next few years?

That's none of your business.
Maybe not.

But it concerns your wife,
and she concerns me.

Unfortunately, she's
still in love with you.

Whatever your magic is,
it's better than mine.

Look out of the window.

Marrying this girl was the
best day's work you ever did.

Losing her
will be the worst.

You will become
dryer and dryer and dryer

until finally you will fall
into dust and blow away.

She was never unfaithful
to you, and you know it.

She only gave me her joy
when you refused it.

Give her the chance
to love you.

For God's sake, give yourself
the chance to love her.

Not impress, love.

Not dominate, love.

Is that so hard
for you?

Well, you think
that would work?

Following her around London
like a pet dog?

Well, Orpheus tried to
lead his girl out of hell

by not looking at her.

Let Belinda lead you
by not speaking.

Do you think
that's so silly?

How many people would become
married in fact as well as law

if they just shut up

and looked
and listened

and heard each other's
heartbeats in the daytime?

Even if you weren't totally insane, I
can't leave my office for ten days.

Why not? I could
represent you perfectly.

I've got no job
at the moment.

I could... All I do is sit
here and take messages.

I know your secretary
could do it, of course.

But I'm sure
I'm better at lying.

Hello?

Is that Mr. Sidley?
Oh, no, no. I'm afraid not.

No, he's on a very important
assignment for Her Majesty's Treasury.

May I take your name and get him to call you?
Ralph.

Oh, thank you. One moment, please.

Dear Mr. Sidley, I envy you
more than any man on earth.

Down below, a glorious girl is waiting
for you to renew your courtship.

Could any prospect
be more lovely?

Mr. Sidley, here is
my present for the occasion.

Unflattering perhaps,
but helpful.

Conditioned reflexes,
you know.

And if you find any macaroons in the
pocket, you're welcome to them.

One thing, Mr. Cristoforou,

you said the man my wife met
every day was handsome,

"with it," "had the
looks of a diplomat."

Well, I thought it
more tactful.

After all, any husband
might forgive himself

for losing
to a dream figure like that.

What is going on?

Hello.

Oh, I'm sorry to have
kept you waiting.

Let me introduce myself.
My name is Cristoforou.

Julian Cristoforou. I'm Mr.
Sidley's new partner.

I have diplomas in accountancy from
the universities of Cairo, Istanbul,

Beirut and Damascus.

I am the author of the well-known
handbook "Teach Yourself Tax Evasion."

What seems to be your trouble?
Inland Revenue are holding me to ransom.

Oh, I see. Well, it's
unbelievable, isn't it?

Well, when I say unbelievable,

I mean I'd believe anything
about them, wouldn't you?

Of course, but
50,000 pounds is too much.

How much?
Fifty thousand pounds.

Fifty thousand pounds' tax?
Monstrous.

You haven't paid it,
I hope?

No.
Oh, splendid, splendid.

Oh, paying any tax over one percent of your
income I consider a desperate mistake.

I'll kill them.
Exactly.

Hello? Hello!

Hello.
What is happening?

Never mind, sir.
Something this end.

Oh, I assure you we won't let the government
touch a penny piece of your money.

Don't you worry
about a thing.

Just come round right away,

and if you could bring with you a
pound or two of granulated sugar,

I'll be greatly obliged.

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Your heart is the heart ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Softly ♪

♪ Slowly ♪

♪ You look my way ♪

♪ No words are said ♪

♪ But still I hear ♪

♪ Inside my head ♪

♪ Follow ♪