All language subtitles for A.Sunday.in.the.Country.1984.720p.BluRay.x264-PHOBOS_track3_eng

A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY

When will you stop asking
so much of life, Irene?

Mercedes!

I can't find the shoe-kit.

It's in its usual place.

Here's the white spirits…
shoe polish…

Found it!

Excuse me, I need the quince jelly.

Bonnat used to polish them

with a cashmere cloth.

Rhubarb pie, eh?

You know that Mr. Edouard
arrives at 10:50.

I'll leave at 10:40.

Remember

that Mr. Edouard
is really named Gonzague.

His wife can call him Edouard.
Here he's Gonzague.

Gonzague or not,

if you leave at 10:40
you'll be late.

This house is ten minutes
from the station.

It was… 10 years ago.

True, I walk a bit slower now.

Don't tell me a road's become
10 minutes longer in 10 years.

Monsieur knows he's wrong.

Old folk just won't admit it.

The last times,
the trains were early.

Just so long as Monsieur doesn't
walk backwards like a crayfish.

Crayfish don't walk backwards.

Maybe so.

Since his wife's death, Mr. Ladmiral
could not do without Mercedes…

and felt he mustn't anger her.

He told himself

that she'd leave
at the slightest incident.

But he knew it wasn't true.

She liked her job
and cared about her master.

Yet he nurtured this false fear
of her leaving.

A vestige, perhaps, of former
rapports with women.

Papa, there's grandpa!

But I left on the dot.

Your watch must be slow.

But…

I've 10:57. And you?

Getting far-sighted?

So, no hugs for grandpa?

Did Mireille have a good trip?

Oh, no.

She puked.

Say "vomited" or "threw up".

Poor Mimi. It happens every time.

She tries to hold it in but…

Now I bring eau-de-cologne along.

Whom does she get it from?

You're too big to be sick now.

Understand, Mireille?

He pushed me!

Look where you walk.

It's no time to fight.
You're in the country now.

- Look, quail!
- No, pheasants!

- Full of life, eh?
- That, yes.

Boys can't stay put.

Those were pheasants, no?

Partridge.

Ah, it's Mr. Tourneville.

Hello.

- You remember him, don't you?
- Yes, very well.

Here's the lumberman's widow…

There's Mr. Dantigny.

Can we help, ma'am?

Must be senile… my memory's going.

You had such a good one.

No reason to lose it though.

He's Poncet's cousin.

Not as senile as you think.

You'll bury us all.

Don't be silly.

You'll see.

It's too hot for a mackintosh.

I'm alright.

Pious as ever?

As ever.

And the office?

The same.

But Dakar is off.

I see…

Marie-Therese didn't want to.

A couple's a couple.

She already changed your name.

"Edouard"!

Let me have her.

Hold my hat.

She'll tire you.

You're lagging behind.

Okay up there?

You're jealous. Take her back.

Watch my hat… not on my face.

I haven't been exercising lately.

I'm getting lazy.

It's been a while since
your last visit.

Two weeks.

I know it's hard…

- Last Sunday…
- I know.

No excuses necessary.
It's the same way with me.

That's true.

Since I've no real reason to travel

it's harder to make a decision.

It's easier for you.
You have only Sundays.

You're used to coming here

and there are more of you…

doing things is easier in numbers.

Of course.

Like with painting…

- Where are the boys?
- They must've gone the other way.

The last time your sister Irene came

it was still cold.

We lit a fire in her room.

She gets chilly.

It was cold.

My leg hurts.

Have any iodine?

Ask Mercedes.

Come on.

Don't read now.

It's nicer to talk.

Play in the garden.

- And Emile?
- Will do as told.

Now do as you're told.

So, happy with the kids?

Marie-Therese is a good mother.

The eldest is fine.

The youngest is lazy

but he's doing well.

Just like yourself.

But I worked hard.

Sure you did.

But it didn't help.

The youngest is the opposite.

Doesn't work, but succeeds.

I thought you said…

I meant the contrary… wait…

It's all the same, anyway.

Sit down. You can help me.

I'll cut the dough!

Into strips,

like that.

I'll get the pie…

and you lay them out.

Because I'm a bit behind.

When I serve the pie, we'll say…

that Mireille made it.

It needs reupholstering.

It could use a new look.

Then again this faded tone
is rather nice.

Dogs and chairs have
the same life span.

We can't live with drawn curtains.

Not on the couch! It's posing!

I'm sorry.

I'm painting a corner
of the atelier.

You always do it so well.

It'll be stunning.

I love your work.

You should paint a cat
on the couch

or on the rug.

Like on your big canvas
from last year.

A cat's always nice.

Another cat!

Marie-Therese had every quality
all hidden.

She was happy, surely…

ploddingly, but dedicated
and placid.

Since her marriage, she'd relished
the pleasure of not working.

Her family was far more work
than she'd ever had at the office.

But she didn't know it.

She'd settled into the cozy conjugal
sloth of a hard-working housewife.

This marriage had been a shock
to Mr. Ladmiral.

He'd never quite recovered.

After much self-searching

because that's what everybody does.

This answer made little sense

but it at least ended speculation.

- You're crazy!
- They didn't mean to.

Who threw that?

And they just laugh?

They don't know how
to play outside.

They're not used to it.

It's just as well,
being city children…

That way they don't miss it.

At least it wasn't a rock.

But my boys aren't wild.

Who broke the bell jar
with the monkey wrench?

It wasn't Lucien's fault.

You see, I had to fire the maid.
She wasn't competent.

And the new one put the bell jar…

If the closet door
had been left shut

and he'd kept out of the tool box.

As for the tool box, fine!

My point was that he's not wild.

About that clod don't be upset.

What clod?

Oh yes…

You're quite right.

The older I get,
the more I'm right to him.

Thereupon a sort of conversation
developed among the three of them.

The old man was preoccupied…

with an intensity
that made him feel young

and a bitter certainty
of finding nothing

that made him feel very old.

Lemme pull his leg off!

- It won't work.
- Just wait.

We need a lens.

The garden's pretty, eh?

I've painted it a hundred times.

That may seem strange to you.

No. You paint what you love.

The brats!

Look,

they're trying to set fire
to a maybug!

You leave them alone!

Set fire with what?

- A piece of glass.
- How cruel!

- Imagine if it were you!
- What'd the bug do to you?

It's not a harmful insect.

Anyway, they'd need a lens.

Didn't you even learn
that in school?

We don't have one.

Couldn't Grandpa lend us his?

Please lend us your lens!

Always begging for things!
It's bad manners.

Go ahead, take it.

But wait… be careful.

Burn twigs

but no bugs.

Do as you're told.

I'm sure they'll break it.

They have to be constantly chided.

Gonzague makes them out to be

real rascals.

I said that for you.

And you're an ideal dad.

We found it!

But be careful.

Feel all right, papa?

What's the matter?

Say…

- Did you see those little girls?
- What girls?

Just now… 2 little girls
in the garden.

They'll be back, don't worry.

Why should I worry?

Funny, a cock crowing at this hour.

She's got a point.

Be of good chair…

The oldest jokes are always…

- The best!
- The most ancient.

They're building a road over there.

It won't bother you much.

My bas-relief professor
used to always say:

"It's hard, painting, it's hard."

That's all he ever said,
and sometimes

he'd add: "My dear fellow…

"you're wasting your time."

"A painter can't make a living."

Though he painted…

heather… genre painting…

But now when I see photographs

I think maybe he was right.

Do you like photographs?

Some of them.

Photography's easier.

day after day

I come up against little nothings.

You were lucky.

Look at your sister, Irene.

She forges ahead.

You don't.

She's not always very thoughtful.

If being thoughtful
means staying put…

You've got pointy mustaches
like your dad.

No wonder you're old-fashioned.

Edouard's your spitting image.

Speaking of images…

about Eugene Carrière…

- Hurry up.
- We're coming.

Wash your hands!

Degas said about Eugene Carrière:

"It's not bad,
but the model moved."

Because Carrière's painting

is a bit blurred.

Did you wash your hands?

We want them nice and rosy.

Grandpa says no washing hands
in the kitchen.

But we don't care.

Give me your glass.

I love paté.

Can I have more?

When Mercedes brings it.
Finish what you have first.

A wasp!

It won't hurt you.

Take your jacket off
if you like.

Paté's from a new butcher…
not bad.

The capon is just delicious.

Some people are born cooks.

Lots of sauce.

- You'll be sick.
- She'll be sick anyway…

so let her eat.

You're perspiring.

That's all right.

I'm not hot.

Eating makes him perspire.

At the house he's in shirtsleeves.

Why not in the country?

Have the courage
of your convictions.

Boys, pass your glasses.

They can't drink all that!

A little excess never
did anyone harm.

I was drunk once.

Remember, Mama?

Go on, boast!

You were intoxicated?
How interesting! Tell us about it.

Any more potatoes?

Close your mouth.
Mind your elbows.

Finish your carrots.

Were you ever drunk, grandpa?

Oh, such a long time ago.

I wish I'd seen you.

And papa?

- Ask him.
- He says no.

Your father's very serious.

Another wasp!

A little thing like that scaring
a big fellow like you?

Meringue?

Rhubarb pie!

Did you know
that it was Canius Fanius

who forbade the raising
of chickens

in the streets of Rome.

Really?

Canius Fanius!

Nap time now.

Don't stay on the porch.

We're inside.

Sleep tight.

They had too much to drink.

Mozart!

- She's asleep?
- Yes.

This tree's always first
to turn color in the fall.

I'll serve the liqueurs.

These flies!

Not Edouard. Gonzague.

Take advantage of the garden.

A little brandy?

A Benedictine.

Here you are…

If I did your portrait, Gonzague…

I'd do you in purple.

All purple.

How pretty.

Not everybody can have
a purple son.

Few people are lucky

to have a purple son.

That's how I should have painted.