All language subtitles for Madame.Curie.1943.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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Fifty years
ago, Paris was a lighthearted city,

the goal of many a traveler.

But some came not for gaiety,
but to work, to study

at one of the world's most
famous universities, the Sorbonne.

To its lecture rooms and classes

came students
from all over the world,

and among them was a young girl.

She was poor.
She was beautiful.

She had left her homeland
and family.

And here, in Paris,
she was alone,

haunted by dreams
and invincibly eager.

...go out alone
into space.

Go out alone.

You are a hundred here.
One hundred students.

But when it is time
for you to think,

you, too, will be alone,

like the author
of this equation,

like Newton,
let us say, or Galileo.

Probably it will not be your
good fortune to reach so high

to catch a star
on your fingertips.

To catch a star
on your fingertips.

But this you can share
with them.

You can learn to be alone
with nature,

with a ray of light, a piece
of earth, a drop of rain.

You can become aware of
the earth whirling about the sun

at the rate of 66,000 miles
per hour.

Aware that the...

What... What...
What-What's that?

You are feeling better?

Sit, sit still a moment.
You fainted.

I... I'm sorry I interrupted
the lecture so stupidly.

You can get the notes
from some other student.

Your name is Marie
Sklodowska? Yes.

You are working
for two master's degrees,

one in physics
and one in mathematics?

You passed first in the
mathematics examination last year?

Yes.

What did you have to eat today?

Eat?
Yes, eat.

I don't remember.
I had some lunch.

What did you have?

Some... All sorts of things.

You have a pleasant room?

Yes, monsieur.

Good.

Put on your hat and coat.

Come along.

Come along, please.

It is rather unusual to have
no friends here in Paris.

I have little time for friends.

Usually there is some young man.

I am interested in physics
and mathematics.

Yes, so am I.

And yet I have a wife,
and a home, and a daughter

and two granddaughters.

I'm afraid I would
never be up to that.

Your desire is to go back
to Poland and to teach?

Yes.

Your parents are in Warsaw?

My father
is a physics professor.

He is old.

When I have my degrees, I
shall go back and live with him.

You love Poland.

Oh, yes. I love Poland.

Physics and mathematics
and Poland.

Yes.

Eat your soup.

Thank you very much.

The Society of National
Industry has asked me

to recommend someone to make
a study of the magnetic properties

of various steels.

I would be glad to
recommend you, if you wish.

There would be
some recompense, of course.

I don't know exactly what...

Oh, it wouldn't matter.
Really, it wouldn't.

I would be so grateful.

Of course, you would require
rather cumbersome equipment.

Too cumbersome for our
laboratories, I am afraid.

However, I know a scientist
of great merit

who works in the school
of physics and chemistry.

Perhaps he might have
a workroom available.

Come and have tea Sunday
with my wife and me.

I will ask him to come, too.

You probably know his name.
It is Pierre Curie.

Oh, thank you so much. Thank
you. You have been very kind.

Not at all, not at all.

Goodbye, then.
Until Sunday. Sunday.

Good night.

Good night.

"To catch a star

"on your fingertips."

Ah!
Madame Perot?

Oh, you are Mademoiselle
Marie Sklodowska,

I know it.
Yes.

We've been waiting for you. My
husband has told me all about you.

Ah, Professor Curie,
how nice. Madame.

You two have met?

Uh, I've not had the honor
in the hallway of...

This is Mademoiselle
Marie Sklodowska.

Professor Pierre Curie.

My husband said that you
have no friends in Paris.

But that's impossible, my
child. We must remedy that.

Please, Professor, come in, come
in. I'm sure you know everyone here.

In Paris, you must have
many friends.

I want you to meet
all these charming...

May I introduce you to...

From time to...
Oh, pardon me, gentlemen.

Dr. Curie.

Good afternoon, Professor
Perot. Good afternoon.

I had no idea it was
going to be, uh, a--a party.

Nor I, believe me, monsieur.

They spring up suddenly,
these parties,

out of the goodness
of women's hearts.

My wife wished a young student
of mine to make many friends.

Well, I'm very bad at parties.

It's-- It's impossible
for me to focus.

My mind won't follow the
most simple thought. Um...

Oh, I--I--I beg your pardon.

No, you are quite right.

Well, then, maybe, uh, I'll
come back some other day.

No, no, no.

I wanted to talk to you
about a student of mine. Oh.

Perhaps we could find
a quiet corner

and have a few moments'
talk. Of course, of course.

And as this student
has very little money

and is, I believe,
extremely talented,

I thought you might have
a workroom available

at the school of physics
and chemistry.

Well, I should be very glad.

Unfortunately, at the moment we
are extremely crowded ourselves.

Oh, in that case...

However, my own workroom
is quite large.

I would hesitate to ask you
to share your own laboratory.

I, uh, I have shared it
with students before.

You have?
Yes. And some of them

were very quiet and pleasant.

On the other hand, one
fellow was most troublesome.

He--He used to whistle
constantly.

Well, I can assure you that
this student is very serious.

Then I should be
very happy, of course.

I'll see if I can find her.

I think you'll find
that she's very sincere.

She?

Oh, my granddaughters.
These are my granddaughters.

Excuse me.
But, uh...

Mademoiselle.
Mademoiselle.

Would you have a tea or coffee?

Yes, thank you. Tea.

That's coffee.

Oh-oh.

That's coffee, too.

...going to play
the piano. Please sit down, everybody.

Sit down here a moment, yes.

Come along,
come along, children.

It's time for your performance.

You'll excuse them, Dr. Curie.
They are going to play the piano.

Come along, come along, yes.

There they are, yes.

This is the student
of whom we were speaking.

Mademoiselle Sklodowska,
Dr. Pierre Curie.

We have already met.

Dr. Curie is gracious.

He consented to let you work
in his laboratory.

I am very grateful.

Um, of course.
I had no idea that, uh...

Won't--Won't you sit down,
mademoiselle?

Oh, you will excuse me, please.

I fear my grandchildren
are about to entertain.

Would you care for tea?

Thank you, I've
just had some. Oh.

It's coffee.

I appreciate
very deeply, Dr. Curie,

the privilege of working
in your laboratory.

They play incredibly badly,
don't you think?

Very badly, Dr. Curie.

Of--Of course, I'm no judge.

Professor Perot
is an excellent scientist.

Well, good morning,
Dr. Curie.

Good morning, David.

The furnace is taken down
and I'm beginning to set up

for room temperature readings.

I have the sulfates
all ready for you.

Thank you.

Um, no one has arrived yet?

Here at the laboratory?
Yes.

No, sir. Are you
expecting someone?

Well, there's a pupil
of Professor Perot's

who's going to be doing
some work here.

For a short time.
Yes, sir.

Her name is Maria...

Uh...

That's funny. I ought to remember
it, I was introduced to her twice.

Um... Sklodowska.

She's a girl.

Oh.

Well, I--I didn't find out
in time.

Always the continual struggle
against woman, David.

When we wish to give
all our thoughts to some work

which estranges us
from humanity,

we always have to struggle
against woman.

Yes, sir. And women scientists
are particularly unattractive, I find, sir.

Woman loves life
for the living of it.

In the world
of abstract research,

she's a danger, a distraction.

She's the natural enemy
of science.

There's no doubt of it, sir.

Women and science
are incompatible.

Women of genius are rare.

No true scientist can have
anything to do with women.

No, sir.

Anyway, David, put her
over there in that far corner.

Yes, sir. And if you
can, without being rude,

inform her how important
silence is to laboratory work.

Yes, sir.

I do hope she doesn't whistle.

Oh, uh, David, would you mind
going to the storeroom upstairs

and see if
there's a magnetometer?

She'll need one
for her experiments.

Oh, yes, sir.

I, uh... I'm very sorry, sir.

Hmm.

I beg your pardon.
Are you looking for something?

Yes, I am looking
for Dr. Curie's laboratory.

You're looking...

But you're not... I mean, you
can't be... Excuse me, please.

Oh, no, you don't understand.
You see, I'm Dr. Curie's assistant.

Oh. Oh, then perhaps
you can direct me.

Well, I certainly can,
I certainly can. Well...

Just this way.
Thank you.

Well, now,
what do you think of that?

I ran straight into you
the first thing.

You know, Dr. Curie has
asked me to look out for you,

be sure that you have
everything you want.

So I'll just take everything
into my own hands.

Oh, here we are.

Here she is, Dr. Curie. Ran
straight into her the first thing.

Oh.

Good morning, mademoiselle.
Good morning, Dr. Curie.

This time we meet in rather
a less confused atmosphere.

Yes. Well, that's
as it should be.

People interested in work
should be alone.

You have met my assistant? Yes.

I don't think
I quite caught his name.

David. David Le Gros.

Uh, I'm sure that David will see
that you are properly installed.

Thank you very much,
Dr. Curie.

I appreciate this chance
more than I can say.

Not at all, not at all,
mademoiselle.

And I do hope
you'll be quite comfortable.

Over this way.

We picked out an especially
nice place for you right over here.

You're going to have this
far corner all to yourself.

Of course, we would
have had it fixed up for you,

had we known sooner
that you were coming,

but we'll take care
of that right away.

How do you think
this is going to suit you?

Oh, it is excellent.

I understand you're a pupil
of Professor Perot's. Yes.

I've studied with him, too.
Wonderful, isn't he?

Yes, he is.

Oh, I'll give you a little more
light. Please, don't bother.

Dr. Curie wants you
to be comfortable.

I'm sorry, Dr. Curie.

Here's some paper and pencil.

You can make out a list
of all the things you need

and I'll go up and see if I can
get a magnetometer for you.

Thank you.

I can take my coat off.

Oh, there's no reason
why you should. Your hat?

I'll hang them up
in the cupboard for you.

I'm sorry, Dr. Curie.

Let me help you.
Oh, thank you.

You know, my office
is just upstairs.

I hope you won't hesitate to call
on me if I can be of any assistance.

You're very kind.

You're sure everything's
all right? Quite. Thank you.

Not at all.

If there's anything you'd like
to know about our equipment,

I'll be glad
to explain it to you.

I wanted to give you
some advice on where to eat around here.

There's a very nice
little restaurant...

Really, monsieur, I don't
think we should talk here.

But I'm whispering. I just
thought you ought to know where to go.

Yes, but...
I'll take you there today.

That'll be the best way.
Please, don't trouble.

Oh, no trouble.
No trouble at all.

I'll come back for you.

Good evening, mademoiselle.
Good evening, Dr. Curie.

Miserable evening,
isn't it? Yes, isn't it?

Oh, uh, by the way, did David
get you the telescope scale

you were asking for last week?

Oh, yes, thank you very much.
He finally located it.

Good, good.
Well, good evening.

But you have no umbrella,
mademoiselle.

No, I haven't,
Dr. Curie.

I'm sorry. I didn't realize.
Perhaps I can help you.

Oh, I don't want to trouble you.

Allow me. No trouble at all.
No trouble at all.

Thank you.

You're very kind.

Not at all, mademoiselle.

May I ask you another question,
Dr. Curie, in the same connection?

It's a simple matter perhaps,
but it, it puzzles me.

Yes, mademoiselle?

In the symmetries L sub
Q and 2L sub Q... Uh-huh.

...you include
only those rotations

which are integral multiples
of 2 pi over Q.

But 2 pi times K over Q excludes
the identity transformation,

if K is not an integer.

Yes, for finite K,
that applies. Uh-huh.

But in the limit L sub infinity,
a difficulty seems to arise.

I don't see why.
It's quite straightforward.

Well, if you consider
the matter rigorously...

Hmm.

I'll have to look into that.

This is where I live.

Goodbye, and thank you.

Of course, of course.

Oh. Goodbye, mademoiselle.

And may I say your
conversation is very scintillating.

Thank you.

It's an extremely
daring hypothesis.

Good morning, mademoiselle.
Good morning, Dr. Curie.

I'm a little late this morning. I
had to stop in at my publisher's.

Uh, my book.

Oh, it's out?

One of the first copies.
Just off the press.

"On Symmetry
in Physical Phenomena:

"Symmetry of an Electric Field
and of a Magnetic Field.

"By Pierre Curie."

That's something to be proud of.

Uh, I thought perhaps you
might like to have a copy.

I would, very much.

Well, then, it's yours.
It's yours, mademoiselle.

Oh, thank you.
Uh, not at all.

Uh, I inscribed the book to
you, mademoiselle, on the flyleaf.

I believe
that's the usual procedure.

I'm very flattered.

Not at all.

Not at all.

Come in.

Oh, Dr. Becquerel.

I hope I'm not intruding,
Dr. Curie,

but could you step over
to my laboratory with me?

I think I've happened on
something of great interest.

Why, what is it?

Are you too busy to...
No, no, no. Not at all.

I'll come at once.

Oh, uh, aren't you coming,
mademoiselle? If I may.

You don't mind... No, no,
no. Come along. Delighted.

I came upon it
quite by accident.

I think you'll agree that
it's really very extraordinary.

What is the nature of it?

Well, what do you see?

You've taken the
picture of a key, apparently.

Yes, the picture of a key.

But that picture of a key was
taken in a very extraordinary manner.

The picture of that key was taken
in complete and total darkness

without light of any kind.

But, uh, how is that possible?

Some months ago, I had the idea
that perhaps certain rocks and minerals

might store up light
and energy from the sun.

That if I left the rocks and
minerals in the sun long enough,

they might absorb some of its
rays and then later give them out.

So I made some
photographic experiments.

You see these rocks? They're
all different kinds of minerals.

I labeled them as you see, and
left them outside in the sun for hours,

then I put them in this drawer

on photographic plates
like this.

And then I waited to see if
they would give up any sunlight

they might have absorbed.

I see. And your experiment
was a success?

To the contrary, my experiment
was a complete failure.

Not one of the rocks
I'd exposed to the sun

affected the plates in any way.

See, there they are. They're
all black. Every one of them.

Then how do you explain...
Now look at this one, please.

That has been exposed. Am
I right? Light has reached it.

Yes, that's been exposed.

This plate was lying
in this drawer.

Quite by accident. I didn't
even know it was there.

It's the drawer that I keep
some of my specimens in.

And when I was putting my
rocks back into the drawer,

one of them must have fallen on
this plate without my knowing it.

I discovered it yesterday.

This is the rock that I had
not yet exposed to the sun.

It's a piece of mineral-bearing
ore called pitchblende.

To make sure there could be no mistake,
last night, I, myself, here in this room,

in complete darkness
took this rock,

which had never been
exposed to the sun

and placed it
on a photographic plate.

I put this metal key between
the stone and the plate,

like this,

so that it would be photographed

if any light rays
came from the stone.

A half hour ago,
I developed the plate.

This is the result.

You mean then,

that there is something about that
rock that gives off rays of its own.

Rays powerful enough
to go through black paper

and affect
this photographic plate.

That, monsieur, must be so.

It's incredible.
It is incredible.

It's as if there were a piece
of the sun locked up in here.

Strange. It's very strange.

What could it be? What could
be the nature of the radiation?

What could be the origin of it?

Perhaps we shall never know.

It was very kind of you to take
me to Dr. Becquerel's laboratory.

Not at all, not at all.

Dr. Curie,

I want to thank you also for
allowing me to do my experiments

here in your laboratory.

I couldn't have done this work
for the Society of Industry

if it hadn't been
for your kindness.

You finished that already?

Yes, I had to do it quickly
because I shall not have much time

from now on to come
to the laboratory.

Why? What do you mean?

From now on, I shall have to
spend most of my time studying.

My examinations come up in
less than two weeks, you know.

So soon? I hadn't realized.

Yes, I've been here six
months. It's the middle of June.

The term is nearly over.

How fast it goes.

Yes.

You know, a short time ago
that tree was a skeleton.

I always used to look forward
to my summers in the country,

but I'm only there
at stray moments now,

when I go to visit
my mother and father.

They have a small place
outside of Paris at Sceaux.

I used to take long walks through the
woods there with my brother Jacques.

Soon I shall be
walking in the country.

My father loves to walk.

Your father?
Is he here in Paris?

Oh, no, in Warsaw. But we
get out of the city now and then.

Warsaw?

But you're not thinking
of going to Warsaw.

Why, of course.
But when?

As soon as I finish my
examination. But for how long?

Why, for... Why,
had you forgotten, Dr. Curie,

that if I pass my examinations,
I'm going back to Poland to teach?

But I... Well, I knew that was
your idea when you first came,

but everything has changed now.

You are making
experiments of your own and...

I know, and I shall
miss Paris, too.

But this is absurd, fantastic!
Why, it never occurred to me.

Oh, I--I--I hadn't planned
on this at all.

How can you dream
of doing such a thing?

Abandon science when
you're making such progress?

My father is getting old.
He misses me.

But if you stay on in Poland, you
can't possibly go on with your studies.

Anyone can teach, but you
can do more. Much more.

You have a talent, a very definite
talent, and it's your duty to use it,

with so much to be done, so
much that's still undreamed of.

Oh, mademoiselle, I--I--I
beg you to reconsider.

Oh, it's very kind
of you, Dr. Curie.

I'm really flattered.

I'm afraid I can't give up the
entire plan that I've had for so long.

I thought, of course, you knew.

I do not understand how
anyone with a scientific mind

can entertain the thought
of abandoning science.

I know.

But there are other things
that are important, too.

Dr. Curie.
Yes, mademoiselle.

I had meant to ask you. I suppose you
wouldn't care to attend my graduation.

Well, I should enjoy very much
seeing you get your degree,

but, well, I have, uh...

There's such a crowd
always. Of course, of course.

I understand perfectly. I feel
exactly the same way myself.

Well, I shall be coming in again,
of course, to see to a few things.

Goodbye, Dr. Curie.

Goodbye, mademoiselle.

...we may well
expect to hear again and again.

It will always be interesting
to you to look back

and try to recall the
personalities... Shh!

...of your classmates
who have won fame.

The Sorbonne
is the mother of learning,

and her children come from
all the corners of the earth.

They come, they are nourished,
and then they return to their homeland

to impart what they
have received to others.

France is not depleted
by what they take away.

The whole world is, in fact,
enriched by what they learn.

And France, in particular,
gains more than she gives

to these very earnest students.

Professor Constant, chairman
of the committee on scholarship,

has gone over all the awards

and will read the names
of the successful candidates.

It is my pleasure to introduce
Professor Constant.

The names of those
who have been awarded degrees

will be read
in the order of merit.

For the degree
of Master of Physics,

first, Marie Sklodowska.

Oh, Dr. Curie.
Oh, hello, David.

Isn't she wonderful?
First place in physics.

Did you know we had that
all the time in the laboratory?

Yes, it's very gratifying.

Oh, I knew she was bright.

You haven't seen anything
of Mademoiselle Sklodowska,

have you, David?
Oh, yes, I saw her.

I had a nice talk with her.
Congratulated her and everything.

She went straight home.
Had some packing to do.

Packing? Well, she's
leaving for Poland Tuesday.

Oh.

Well, goodbye, Dr. Curie.
Awfully glad I ran into you.

Goodbye, David.

Ah, Dr. Curie.

How do you do, Professor?
Lovely, wasn't it?

Packing... Yes, yes,
wasn't it lovely?

Come in.

Come in.

Dr. Curie.
How do you do?

Uh...

I--I missed you at the graduation
exercise. I--I looked all over for you.

You were there?
Yes.

Then you heard?
Yes, I, uh...

My congratulations,
mademoiselle. Thank you.

You know, I was, I was...
Never dreamed that I would...

I mean, I was even afraid
that I mightn't even... I...

Oh I... I am glad
you were able to go.

Won't you sit down?
Uh, thank you.

I met David,

and, uh, he told me that you
were leaving for Poland on Tuesday.

Yes.
I see.

Then you haven't reconsidered,
mademoiselle?

I'm afraid not.
Of course, of course.

I hoped, perhaps,
you might have.

Um, you were packing?

Yes.
Oh, yes. Yes, naturally.

Well, then, uh, since you are
leaving so soon on Tuesday,

I presume there'd be no time
for, uh, something I had in mind.

Uh...

That is, uh...

My father, he is a doctor,
you know.

He's very short, oddly enough,
but intelligent.

And--And my mother is quite gay.

I think you would enjoy
knowing both of them.

But of course,
that would be impossible

because you'll be busy packing
and doing one thing or another.

Uh, I had meant to ask you down
before, but it slipped my mind.

Still, I thought it might be nice
for you to take away with you

something of the Paris
countryside.

And since we were speaking of
the country the last time I saw you,

I thought perhaps you might like to
come with me to spend the weekend there.

It's not far, but, uh...

Still, it's impossible, I see,
because as I said before,

you'll be busy packing and
preparing for your journey.

Yes, the idea's preposterous
on the face of it.

The idea's not
preposterous at all.

I should like to come,
very much.

You would?

Yes. Thank you.

Well, then...

Uh...

Well, then.

I hate that girl.

Eugene.

I still hate that girl. What do
you do in Poland, anyway?

Spend all your time
at this stupid game?

You mustn't mind my husband.
He never shouts at anyone

unless he likes them.
That's what I thought.

He's been shouting
at me all my life.

Well, what are you looking
so gloomy about, Pierre?

It's your shot.
Yes, excuse me.

I hear you're going to Poland
on Tuesday. Yes, monsieur.

Excellent country,
Poland. Thank you.

Of course,
he's never been there.

Don't have to be there to
know it's an excellent country.

Well, what are
you waiting for? Hit it, hit it.

Well, I daresay it's the
best thing you can do.

You can go on
with your studies there.

Though, of course, not to
the degree you could here.

But you'll do well,
whatever it is.

Thank you, madame.

I'm not paying you compliments.

I'm only telling you
what I see in your face.

It's all there in people's
faces. Look at my husband.

A good man, and a good doctor.

Look at Pierre. A poet,
but a poet with brains.

A poet in a laboratory.

Look at me. Fat and foolish,
but quite a good old soul.

It's true.
Why should I mind?

Look at Monsieur
and Madame Michaud there.

And young Master Michaud.

Well, let that pass.

But then, look at yours.

Stubborn, determined, obstinate.

And of course, intelligent.

And then there's something else

that I can't quite
give a name to.

Fiery, is it?
No, that's wrong.

Flame-like. That's a little
nearer. Flame-like, then.

Something like a flame.

Won? Sure, I won.

But what satisfaction do
you suppose I get out of it?

You were not paying attention.

There's no credit in beating
anyone who doesn't pay attention.

Why, I tried to, Father.
Then you're just plain stupid.

Leave him alone.

No, sir. That boy's
got to learn to concentrate.

He'll never get anywhere
if he doesn't concentrate.

Did you ever hear of a
fundamental law of physics

known, oddly enough,
as Curie's Law?

Sheer luck. I don't know how
Pierre ever stumbled onto it.

Do be quiet, Eugene.

Croquet always makes me thirsty.

Want a drink?
Thank you, Father.

Yes, sir. Croquet always
makes me thirsty.

Yes, sir. It stirs up
the thirst in a man.

Nothing like a good drink of
lemonade after a fast game of croquet.

Don't you think so, Pierre?

There.

I think you'll be
comfortable here.

Oh, I'm sure I will be.

This was Jacques' room
when he was home.

Pierre's brother, you know.

Oh, there he is.

Where? Oh, no, no,
that's Pierre.

Oh, no, really?

The other two are the
doctor and me, of course.

Crazy-looking group.

I think it's charming.

Well, I hope you rest well.

Thank you.

And thank you for the lovely
day. I've been very happy.

You're very welcome, my dear.

If you should care to
postpone your return to Poland,

we'd love to have you
stay here with us for a time.

It is kind of you.
I'd like very much to stay,

but I've already written to my
father and he's expecting me.

It's no use, Mother, to talk
to Mademoiselle Sklodowska

about staying on in Paris.

It seems that she is
determined to return to Poland,

and apparently, as far as she is
concerned, science is to be forgotten.

I, I did try to explain to you
why I must return to Poland.

I thought you understood.

I do understand, and I'm sorry.

Well... Well, good night,
my dear.

Good night, Madame Curie.

Good night, mademoiselle.

Pierre, you shouldn't have
spoken to her like that.

She's a very
obstinate girl, Mother.

Well, after all,
Poland is her home.

What's that?

Just saying to Mother that
she's a very obstinate girl.

Stubborn. Exactly.
That's what I mean.

Stubborn as they come. Saw that
the first minute I clapped eyes on her.

Won't listen to reason.

Closes up her mind like a clam.

Well, let's go to bed.

Good night, Mother.
Good night, son.

Good night, Father.
Good night, Pierre.

She's so intelligent
about other things.

Good night.
Good night.

- Blind as a bat.
- Who?

Your son.

Mademoiselle Sklodowska?

Mademoiselle?

Mademoiselle Sklodowska?

What is it? What's happened?
Is anything wrong?

Dr. Curie!

I find it impossible
for you to leave Paris.

But, what... No, please.
I must talk to you.

I find myself
in a very peculiar position.

During these past two weeks, when
you've not been coming to the laboratory,

I've found everything
very confusing.

It's impossible to do my work.

In short, I find it impossible
to go on without you.

But now, suddenly, something
has become very clear to me.

Uh, I am helpful to you
in the laboratory, am I not?

Am I not? Didn't you
say that? Yes, of course.

A few times, I've been able
to give you suggestions

which you have found
valuable. But of course.

Well, then. Now,

whereas I'm inclined
to be nervous and impatient,

you are quite the opposite.
You have a clear mind,

you are tenacious, you will never
give up. It's an excellent combination.

I might compare it with the chemical
formula NaCl, sodium chloride.

It's a stable,
necessary compound.

So, if we marry on this basis, our
marriage would always be the same,

the temperature
would be the same,

the composition
would be the same.

There would be no
distractions, no fluctuations.

None of the uncertainties
and emotions of love.

But...
Uh, uh, uh...

I know how you feel about
love. About men, I mean.

And I respect that feeling.
It's also my own conviction.

For the scientist,
there is no time for love.

I have always believed science
and marriage to be incompatible,

but it's stupid to believe
in generalizations.

In our case, it would be
a wonderful collaboration.

A wonderful collaboration.
Don't you feel that?

I feel that.

And as for your father,
from what you have said,

I am sure he would applaud
such a collaboration.

He might.
And as for Poland,

what little good you could do
there, you could make up here tenfold

on your own ground, science.

What do you think I should do?

It would be
a very fine thing, I believe,

to pass our lives together with
our common scientific dream,

to work together constantly
in our search,

and any discovery that we
should make, no matter how small,

would deepen the friendship
we already have for each other

and increase the respect
we mutually feel.

I can imagine
no respect or friendship

greater than I have for you now.

I can imagine no future
so full of promise

as the one you offer.

Then I suggest that you
stay on in Paris with me.

I believe you are right.

I should like to remain
in Paris very much.

Thank you.

We are engaged.

Engaged?
Engaged?

I'm sorry.

Oh, Pierre, I'm so happy.

So very happy.

And I, too, my boy. Very
happy. Thank you, Mother.

Thank you, Father.
Oh, Pierre.

Good night, now,
Mother. I'm so glad.

Good night.
Good night, Father.

Good night, my boy.
Good night.

Good night.
Good night.

Good night.

Quiet, please. Quiet, please.
Please, quiet.

Gentlemen, quiet, please.
Now, look right here, please,

and hold absolutely still
until I count up to ten.

Still.

One, and two

and three, and four,

and five, and six,

and seven,

and eight, and nine

and ten.

May I wish you happiness,
Madame Curie?

Oh, David, thank you.

You're the first one
who's called me that.

Goodbye, Madame Curie, and bon
voyage. Thank you, mademoiselle.

Goodbye, my dear Marie.

Oh, Father, dear, goodbye.

Oh, congratulations.

Congratulations, Doctor
Curie. Thank you, David.

Bye-bye, monsieur.
Bye.

I'm so sorry to push past you.

- Excuse me.
- Goodbye.

Now, where can I put
this chicken?

Mother, we don't need any more
food. We're not going into the jungle.

Good gracious, what's this?

Pierre, what do you want with
scientific books on your honeymoon?

We want to read them, Mother.
Well, this is the last straw.

Mother, we want those books.
The chicken'll do you far more good,

I assure you.

Bye. Scientific books
on a honeymoon.

Did you ever hear such nonsense?

Goodbye, my boy, goodbye.

Goodbye.
Ready, Marie?

Well, here they go.
Here they go.

Come on.

You're very lovely, Marie.

Thank you, Pierre.

The music is lovely, isn't it?

Yes. Thank you.

Pierre?
Yes?

Will you hate to get back?

In a way, although I have
a lot of work I must do.

What shall I work on, Pierre?

What subject shall I choose
for my doctor's degree?

Isn't there anything that
particularly interests you?

Oh, yes. Yes,
a number of things.

But...

What is it?
Why did you stop?

Oh, nothing. It's just an idea
that went through my mind.

Well, what was it?

Well, do you remember the day that
Professor Becquerel showed us that rock?

The pitchblende and the plate
he'd exposed to it.

Yes.
You know, Pierre,

I can't get that out of my mind.

Really? Why?

I know it's true that the rays are given
off by something in the pitchblende,

but I can't get over the feeling
that there's more to it than that,

that there's something else,

something beyond
Becquerel's explanation.

I don't quite understand.

Well, what are these rays
that are given off,

and why are they
being given off?

It's an accepted principle in
science that nothing can go on forever

without running
down, isn't it? Yes.

I mean, a clock will run down
if it isn't wound.

A fire would burn out
if it isn't replenished.

Life will die if it isn't fed.

And yet in these rocks, which
have been in the middle of the earth

for millions of years,
never seeing the sun,

rays are constantly being
given off, all by themselves.

What is this energy?

Where does it come from?

I suppose
I'm being very foolish.

Some of the greatest
achievements of science

have come through
that same type of foolishness.

When an explanation
is given of something,

and everyone
in the world believes it,

there may be one person
somewhere who can't quite accept it,

who instinctively says,

"I'm not sure that this is
sufficient explanation.

"There may be something
beyond this."

It's that
kind of foolishness, Marie.

Well, I'm not that person,
that's sure.

How do you know?
Perhaps you are.

Perhaps Doctor Becquerel
has only set the gate ajar.

There may be a long,
unexplored road ahead.

I wouldn't even know
how to start, Pierre.

I wouldn't know what to do.

I'm very glad we're married
to each other, Pierre.

Darling.

Hello, Marie.

My class kept me today
with the most stupid questions.

I thought I'd never get away.

And just tonight,
when we're having guests...

I had a terrible problem.

I hope I got the things
you wanted me to get.

I lost the slip I made the notes
on, and I couldn't remember

whether it was turnips
or carrots, so I got both.

Mother likes carrots
and Father likes turnips,

and here's some flowers
for the cook.

Thank you, Pierre.

What's the matter, Marie?

Oh, Pierre, I'm so discouraged.

It looks as if this method
of mine is all wrong.

I wonder if I'm trying
something that's beyond me.

What is it exactly that's wrong?

I don't know.

My measurements.
They don't mean anything.

I know I must be making
mistakes somewhere,

but I don't know where it is.

I've checked them and I've
rechecked them 200 times.

Maybe the electrometer
is not working right.

That's what I'm afraid of.

I wish you'd examine it
for me, Pierre.

I'll go over it tomorrow.
Let's forget it tonight.

Let's not talk, not even
think, about the laboratory.

Promise?

I promise.

Well, Pierre, what is it?

Marie, about those measurements,

do you think anything could've
happened to change the capacity

of the electrometer?

Weren't we supposed to forget
about the laboratory tonight?

I forgot, I'm sorry. No more,
no more. I'm terribly sorry.

Here they are.
Where's my coat?

Here we are.
Ah, hello, Pierre.

Mother.
Dear, dear.

I smell turnips.

We've got carrots for you,
Mother. Oh, how sweet of you.

Oh, I brought you
some of my new plum jelly.

Oh, thank you, Mother.

She made it, but I brought
it. Ah, thank you, Father.

Let me have your things.
Your coat, Father.

Yeah. You're not treating her
right, Pierre. She looks peaked.

Oh, don't be silly.

Why, you look lovely, dear.

Just the same, she's too thin.

And I say, a woman
without a child is a parasite.

She feeds on life, but isn't
willing to give life in return.

What has been her excuse to
have life? Why was she ever born?

She's a bloodsucker.
Don't call names, Eugene.

Are you listening to me?

Of course, a woman without
a child is a bloodsucker.

He didn't mean you, my dear. Oh,
yes, she's just the one I did mean.

But I am going to have a child.

When?
Soon, I hope.

Oh, my dear.
Marie...

Yes, dear?

Tsk, tsk, look who's gonna say
something at last.

Are you sure
the insulation was dry?

Yes, Pierre.

He's getting quite
chatty lately, isn't he?

Shh. Don't bother them.

They're thinking of
something. I don't believe it.

Did you check
the ground connection?

Why, no. I thought you gave it
to me in good order.

Well, sometimes it works
loose, and you don't notice it.

Pierre, that could be
possible, couldn't it?

Yes. Yes, of course.

The thing we must do is check that
line completely from one end to the other.

In that case, my
measurements may be correct.

Yes.

Then all these months of work
wouldn't be wrong, after all.

That's right.

Pierre, that's it.
That must be it.

That must be it.
Yes, that must be it.

All right, all right.
Go ahead and check it.

Father, it's just that... Well,
Marie's had so many setbacks

with her work.
That's all right.

Don't stop to explain, go
ahead. Do please forgive us.

It's just that I've been
waiting so many months.

It's all right, my dear.

I hope you won't mind if I stay
long enough to finish my coffee.

Please do. We'll
try and get back before you go.

Thank you, my boy. Thank you.

You know, sometimes I think that
son of yours is not quite all there.

It was awfully nice
having dinner with you.

Nice having dinner with you.

You know, I never come
to this house...

Drink your coffee, Eugene.

It happens every time.

Well?

It's all right.

There's nothing wrong with it.
I was wrong.

I was sure we'd found it.

Well...

Now I don't know.
I'm sorry.

You tested all of the elements.
You're sure of that, Marie?

Yes, I'm positive, Pierre.

And you found that only two of them,
uranium and thorium, gave off rays.

That's right. Then you
measured the uranium and thorium

in the pitchblende ore?

And that's when
I ran into trouble.

The pitchblende had more
radioactivity than I could explain

by the amount of uranium
and thorium it had in it.

Would you like to show me how
you make your measurements, Marie?

You wouldn't mind?
Of course not.

All right.

Here's what I've done so
many times that I've lost count.

Here is crude pitchblende.

Now, we know that the rays come
from the uranium and the thorium

that are in this pitchblende.

Those two elements
give off the rays. Correct.

I put the pitchblende
in this mortar...

Has the mortar
always been cleaned?

Always. And grind it up.

Here's the ground pitchblende,
still with uranium and thorium in it.

I always
fill the dish level full.

This is the way
I've done it every time.

Then I place it
in the electrometer.

And I close the case
so there's no draft.

Good.

Then I charge the electrometer.

Now we'll find out how much energy
the rays in the pitchblende have,

is that right?
Right. Start.

Ready?
Read.

Eight.
Eight.

Same reading I've always had.

This pitchblende, with the
uranium and the thorium still in it,

comes to eight.

Now, here is pure uranium

abstracted from the same
amount of pitchblende.

Put this in exactly the
same place, close the case,

charge the electrometer.

Now we'll find out how much
energy the rays in the uranium have.

Right.

Ready?
Read.

Two. Same as always.

I've done nothing wrong so far.

Not that I can see.

We know then
that the pitchblende

with the uranium
and the thorium in it

comes to eight, and that
the uranium alone reads two.

Now we test the thorium. PIERRE:
From the same amount of pitchblende?

Of course. Put that in
exactly the same place,

close the case,
charge the electrometer.

Now we find out how much
energy the rays in the thorium have.

Right.

Ready?
Read.

Two.

I don't understand.
There must be a mistake.

When the uranium and thorium
are in the pitchblende,

the reading is eight,

but individually,
they only total four.

Have you checked all the other
elements in the pitchblende?

I've checked every element
there is. You know the results.

Every element in existence.

Uranium and thorium are the
only elements that give off rays.

Why therefore do they give off twice
as much when they're in the pitchblende,

as they do when they're
tested separately?

Where are those
four missing points?

That's what I don't understand.

I don't understand.

You made a chemical analysis of what
is contained in pitchblende, didn't you?

Of course.
Could I see it?

Yes.

Uranium oxide 75%,
thorium oxide 13%,

lead sulphide 3%,
silicon dioxide 2%,

calcium oxide 3%,
barium oxide 2%,

iron oxide 1%,

magnesium oxide 0.99%,

other extraneous matter .001%.

Pierre?
Yes?

Our universe is composed of
definitely known substances, isn't it?

Elements that are fixed forever.

Inert, unchanging.

We know that, don't we?

All of our science
is based on that.

All of our science
is based on that. Go on.

In the beginning, man used to think
that there were only four elements.

Earth, air, fire and water.

They thought that everything in their
universe could be made out of those.

Yes, go on. But they
were wrong, weren't they?

They were wrong.

Now we know
that there are 78 elements.

Those elements over there
on the shelves.

And we believe that there are
some elements still unknown.

But we assume that
these missing elements

will have the same character
as those we know already.

That's right.

Pierre,

what if there is a kind of matter in
the world we never even dreamed of?

What would that mean?

Marie, that would mean that

our whole conception of the nature
of matter would have to be changed.

It's cold in here.

Tell me what you are thinking.

I don't quite dare.

Go on and say it, no
matter how crazy it sounds.

What if we did not make a
mistake in our measurements?

What if the conception
of science is wrong?

What if there exists a matter
that is not inert, but alive?

Dynamic?

Do we dare think that
our four missing points,

this strange power,

is in that .001%?

Pierre, we have discovered
a new element.

An active element.

The residue of the pitchblende.

What was left over after I extracted
the uranium and the thorium.

It must be in there.
Where is it?

In the filter paper.

Close the curtains.

Ready?

Marie, if your four
missing points are here,

our notion of the universe
will be changed.

Ready?
Read.

Four.

Oh, Pierre.

Marie,

this new concept...

If we can prove the existence
of this new element,

it may enable us to look
into the secret of life itself

deeper than ever before
in the history of the world.

Madame Curie,

you must realize that the board

has given your application
every consideration.

However, the university
has not an extensive budget,

for the creation
of new laboratories

and for the new equipment
you ask for.

You state that you
and Dr. Curie

have detected the presence of a
new element, an active element.

But unfortunately,

you have given us no
convincing proof of its existence.

We have demonstrated
its existence experimentally.

We have carried on
our research intensively,

except for five weeks
in the autumn.

In September,
my daughter was born,

and a week later, my husband
had the misfortune to lose his mother.

But the rest of the time we
have devoted entirely to research.

And yet, in these eight
or nine months,

you have come
no closer to any proof

as to the existence of, uh...
What is the name of it?

My wife has named it radium.

Oh, yes. Radium.

I should like to ask
Dr. Curie a question.

Yes, Professor Roget.

This work will require
quite a little time, will it not?

Yes, of course.

But you're already teaching at
the school of physics and chemistry,

and Madame Curie is teaching
at the normal school at Sevres.

It would be a formidable undertaking
under the best of circumstances.

Under these conditions,
hardly seems promising.

And Madame Curie, in spite of
her acknowledged abilities, is,

if you will permit me to say
so, young, inexperienced

and a woman.

Gentleman, if you please,

this remark seems to me
entirely irrelevant.

It is perfectly true
that Madame Curie is young,

that she has not had the
experience that most of us have had,

and as you say, she is a woman.

But let me impress
upon you, gentlemen,

that she is a most
unusual woman,

I might say, well,
a most unusual woman.

You cannot classify her
with that term.

I have had the opportunity of
observing Madame Curie very closely,

and I can assure you, gentlemen,

that she is
a remarkable scientist,

as scrupulous as she is
brilliant, and furthermore... Huh?

Uh...

Of course, gentlemen, you understand
that I am looking upon Madame Curie

with complete coldness
and complete detachment,

as I would in judging
any other colleague.

We understand
that you are convinced

as to the reliability of
Madame Curie's investigations.

Entirely. I have even
put aside my own research

to devote my entire time
to collaborating with her

in the isolation
of this new element.

Dr. Curie, much as we would
like to help you and Madame Curie,

our budget does not provide
for purposes of this kind.

However, the suggestion
was made by Professor Roget,

in which we have
unanimously concurred,

to offer you the use of the shed

across the courtyard
from the school of physics.

We are aware that this shed

is not the most suitable place
for your investigation...

Gentlemen!

Am I to understand that you
are offering us the old shed

across from
the physics building?

The one that was used as a
dissecting room by medical students?

If this abominable shack
is available,

it's only because no one can be
found who is willing to work in it.

The roof leaks, it has no
floor but the wet ground,

it cannot be heated.

In summer it's as stifling as a
hothouse and in winter it freezes.

And do you imagine
that I would permit my wife

to work under these
appalling conditions?

If you do, gentlemen,
believe... Huh?

With my husband's permission,

we shall be very glad
to accept the shed.

We shall be very grateful
to have the shed.

This was the shed across
the courtyard from the school of physics.

This was to be the laboratory
of Marie and Pierre Curie.

The place was even worse
than they had expected.

There was no equipment.

They were at the mercy of the
worst extremes of the weather.

How could they do anything
worthwhile under such conditions?

If they had known at the start
how long they were to work here,

and what difficulties awaited them,
would they have dared to begin?

Well, yes, they probably would.

They were that kind of people.

At first, it was
sheer physical labor,

beyond the strength
of either of them.

During those winter days
they carried on between them

the work of
an entire chemical plant.

The raw material was pitchblende

from the mines of Bohemia,
tons of it,

from which they planned to
extract all the known elements

until only a few ounces
remained.

From these few ounces, radium,
their precious element,

was eventually to be isolated.

In the beginning,
in spite of the bitter cold,

the work had to be done
out of doors

because of the fire
and the fumes.

The first step
was to melt the crude ore

in a large oblong tank
till it was boiling like lava.

Then acids were poured in.

This was to dissolve
out the salts.

When this was done,

the next stage was to melt down
the residue in separate cauldrons,

another backbreaking job,

for the fires must not go out,
night or day,

and either Pierre or Marie
had to be on hand all the time.

Dogged determination kept them
going through month after month

of such arduous,
dangerous work. But even so,

it began at last to tell
on both Pierre and Marie.

This was something
they had to fight continually,

the gas fumes.

Eventually,
months ran into years.

The kind of work changed,

but Pierre still had to build
or assemble their equipment,

and with any materials
that lay at hand.

What was left
of the original pitchblende

had now to be filtered and
refiltered to remove other elements.

And this work,

though not quite so physically
strenuous, was hard enough,

especially during
the hot summer days.

And so the work went on,

until presently
everything had been removed

from the tons of ore,
except two final elements.

One was barium, and the other,

which they had begun to think of
in their hearts as their own element,

was the precious,
elusive radium.

Pierre and Marie thought that the
end of their task must surely be in sight.

All that was now left was to
separate these two last survivors,

barium and radium.

This was the problem,

to separate barium and radium
somehow or other.

No separation.

No separation.

No separation.

"September 12th, 1899.

"Reduction of pitchblende nearly
finished. Only barium and radium remain.

"The next separation
will give radium."

"November 8th, 1899. First
experiment, no separation."

"November 10th, 1899. Second
experiment, no separation."

"July 16th, 1900. Four hundred
and fifty-eighth experiment,

"radium still refuses
to be separated from barium."

All right, then, radium
won't be separated from barium.

We've done all we can, and more.

More than most people
would've done,

thanks to your tenacity,
but it's useless.

We'll never find a way
of separating them.

Barium and radium
cannot be separated.

How much longer do you think
we can stand this insufferable heat?

Stifling in summer
and freezing in winter.

How much longer do you think
you can drive yourself like this?

And how much longer
do you think I can stand by

and watch you destroy yourself?

The world has done
without radium up to now.

What does it matter if it isn't
isolated for another 100 years?

I can't give it up.

If it takes 100 years,

it would be a pity.

But I'm going to see how
far I can go in my lifetime.

I have never seen burns
quite like these before.

They are very strange.

I can't ever remember
seeing anything quite like them.

They obviously don't come
from any normal substance.

Madame Curie, how long have
you been making your experiments

with this unknown element?

For the past three...
Three and a half years.

And have these burns
given you much pain?

No.

They've been
irritating at times,

but I never paid much
attention to them until lately.

I see.

It is obvious
that you are dealing

with some remarkably
powerful force.

As to what these burns are
exactly, there is no means of telling.

I don't wish to alarm you,
Madame Curie,

but it is very possible that these
burns might become serious,

might, in fact,
develop malignantly

if you continue to expose them
excessively to your unknown element.

It is not impossible,

but they might develop
into a cancerous nature.

It is my advice, madame,

that you abandon
your experiments.

Cancer?
No, Pierre.

He only said the burns
might develop malignantly.

Might develop into cancer? No.

He said they might possibly
develop into a cancerous nature,

but only if excessively
exposed to our radium.

So, if we're careful, there's
nothing to be frightened about.

But the very word frightens me.

You saw how it took
my own mother.

We'll have to give up
our experiments.

If we are dealing with as
powerful a force as this,

there's no telling what...

I won't allow it. I won't
let you take such risks.

I won't permit you.
Pierre, please.

No, Marie.
Listen to me, please.

There's something
I must tell you.

And then, you shall decide
as you wish.

Very well, Marie.

Since I left the doctor's,
I've been thinking.

This element of ours
obviously has a terrific power.

Power enough to affect
healthy tissue like mine.

Power enough to destroy tissue.

Pierre, if it has this power,

why hasn't it also the power
to destroy unhealthy tissue?

Do you realize what that
might mean? It could heal.

By destroying unhealthy tissue,

it could heal
all manner of diseases.

Like cancer, even?

Yes, Pierre,
it might even do that.

We don't know what things
it might do for people.

But, Marie...
Pierre, can't you see

how, how unimportant
little things like this are,

compared with
what it might mean?

It might prevent
great sicknesses, even deaths.

Pierre.

And so they went on
with their work,

using every possible precaution.

Marie's fingers healed.

And though they did not find a
way to separate radium from barium

in a single process,

they did discover a method
of removing barium

little by little
in infinitesimal amounts,

working on the theory

that once the whole
of the barium was removed,

nothing could be left
but radium.

Here, we see the sort of thing
they had to do.

This is called crystallization.

When the liquid evaporates,
crystals are left.

This was the thing they had
to do over and over again.

It proved to be the most exacting
of all the stages of their long task,

for it continued for two years,

and required thousands
of separate operations.

By now the residue from all the
various processes they had worked at

lay in hundreds of these
small evaporating bowls.

Small, because larger quantities
would not evaporate so quickly.

Crystallizing
and re-crystallizing,

each operation, they hoped,
bringing them closer and closer

to the heart
of the great mystery.

At last they arrived
at the final crystallization,

the one that contained the
concentrated result of all the others.

The last survivor out of those
hundreds of evaporating bowls.

I think I feel like crying.

Ah, Professor Perot!

Professor Perot.
Madame Curie.

But I'm afraid I've come
at a rather crucial moment.

No, no. We have finished.

We've nothing to do now but
wait. I'm delighted to see you.

There's nobody we'd rather have
with us at this moment than you.

Thank you. And I have brought
with me a very illustrious visitor.

No more illustrious than
these young folk will be.

The name of Curie
will lead all the rest.

You're taller, my boy,
considerably, than I imagined.

And you, madame,
so young, so beautiful.

And so brilliant.
Thank you.

I don't know which
is the greater miracle,

you or radium.

Why don't you
introduce me, Perot?

I think I know.
Isn't it Lord Kelvin?

I absolutely refused to return to
London without meeting you both.

As long as
the greatest living scientist

believed in the existence
of radium,

what the others thought
didn't seem to matter.

Here are a few
of the evaporating dishes.

How many crystallizations
did you make?

Hundreds, I suppose?

Tell him, Pierre.
Look here, sir.

Five thousand, six
hundred and seventy-seven.

And the last crystallization
is in there, I suppose?

Five thousand,
six hundred and seventy-seven.

The last crystallization.

What an historic moment.

That little bowl represents
eight tons of pitchblende,

and four years of work.

In a few hours, the water will be
gone and only radium will remain.

Pure radium.

I'm sorely tempted
to stay and see it,

but it's New Year's Eve and my
family's expecting me in London.

And it's just as well.

This great moment should
belong to the two of you.

Alone.

You begin the year, my
friends, that will mark your fame.

Goodbye.
Goodbye.

Goodbye.
Goodbye, sir.

Come along, Perot,
my train won't wait.

Goodbye, dear.
Goodbye.

Goodbye.

I shall come back to Paris next week
and see radium with my own eyes.

Meantime, send me a telegram
tonight and describe it to me.

We have a poet over there

who wrote something apt
for this occasion.

"Ring out the old,
ring in the new,

"Bring out the false,
bring in the true."

Goodbye. God bless you.

Goodbye.
Goodbye.

What a wonderful man.

The really great men
are always simple and good.

Yes.

- We're both very tired.
- Yes.

Should we try and get
some rest? Very well.

Sit here now and I'll
cover you with this robe.

There.

Pull your chair closer,
Pierre. I can't reach you.

There, that's better.

Let's try and doze off.

Pierre.

What time is it?

How long have we slept?
Must be time.

It's 5:00.

Must be crystallized by now.
Must be there.

Our radium must be there.

Come on.

Do you mind?
You look first.

There's nothing there.

Not a trace of anything.

Not a grain.

Only this stain.

What's happened, Pierre?

Where's our radium? What
have we done? Where is it?

What's happened?
Where is it, Pierre?

I don't know.

What did we do that was wrong?
What could we have done?

We've done nothing wrong.
I can't stand it, Pierre.

Where is our radium?

We worked for years and years and
years. It must be there. It must be there.

Four long years in this shed.

Four long years.

Is that you?
Yes, Father.

Well, something's got to be
done about that child of yours.

I think you ought
to take it back.

I had to stand on my head
to make her eat her supper.

And now she...
Now she...

Now she won't go to bed
until her mother tells her a story.

I'd like to know what's
the matter with my stories.

They're the same stories.

I'll go up to her.

Then what happened, Mommy?

I'm sorry, Irene, darling.

Mother just can't tell you
any more tonight.

Oh, Mommy, please.

What's the matter, Mommy?

But I want to know
what happened, Mommy.

If you close your eyes tight,
Daddy will tell you a story.

What's it about?

Well, uh, it's about...

It's about a strange

and wonderful treasure

that was locked up
in an enchanted stone.

Isn't there a princess in it?

Yes, a princess.

A beautiful princess
with golden hair.

Is there a prince, too?

No, not a prince,

but a man who lived all alone

until the princess found him.

Did they love each other?

Very much.

All right, Daddy.
My eyes are closed.

Well, now...

One day, the princess
told the man

about this wonderful treasure.

So they decided to go
in search of it together.

Now, no one had ever seen
this treasure, of course.

But the princess knew
that it was there.

And she knew if they could
get it out of the stone,

it might let people
see wonderful things

that they had never been able
to see before.

So they worked very hard

for a long, long time

to try and rescue the treasure
from the stone

and they grew very tired.

And at last, they knew that
they would never be able

to free the treasure from
the enchantment of the stone.

But they weren't sad about it.

Because they knew

that no matter how many
disappointments they had,

they would always
go on together,

having the courage
to take many disappointments

because they were together.

And they lived happily
ever after.

She's asleep.

You know,
we promised David that...

But I suppose you naturally
wouldn't feel like...

Oh, I remember,
the New Year's party.

But of course,
you don't feel like going...

Pierre, we promised.
Let's go.

I'd rather.

It might help.

Good. Good, then.

Happy New Year.

Happy New Year.

Happy New Year.
Happy New Year.

Happy New Year, Marie.

Happy New Year, Pierre.

Marie.

Try to put it out of your
mind, Marie, and go to sleep.

I can't.
I can't accept it, Pierre.

Marie, sometimes there are
things you just must accept.

If I only knew why we'd failed.

I think the failure itself
I wouldn't mind so much,

if I only knew
the reason for it.

Months and months
and months ago,

we knew we'd found
the right process to use.

Now, at the very end,
why should it suddenly fail?

I don't know.
I don't know.

Pierre, that stain
on the saucer.

Yes?

We didn't even test it, did we?

No, we didn't.

What we were expecting to find was
a definite amount of radium, wasn't it?

Something we could see and feel.

About as much as
a pinch of salt, you said.

Yes.

Pierre, what if it's...

What if it's merely
a question of amount?

What if there's
so little radium in proportion

to the amount of material we've
used, that even now we couldn't see it?

What if that stain,
even if it were the merest,

merest breath...

Go on.

Pierre.

Could it...

Could it be that that stain
is radium?

Pierre!

It's there!

The radium.
It's there! It's there!

Pierre!

It's there!

It's there!

It's there! It's there!

Oh, Pierre.

Where are they? Are they in
Paris? We'll go wherever they are.

I'm not going to tell you
where they are.

But Dr. Curie, I am the
representative of the London Times.

And there are
representatives here

from the presses of all the
great nations in the world.

Don't Dr. and Madame Curie
realize they can't hide from the press?

The whole world is afire
from their discovery.

The public wants to know
about them.

We have heard that they have refused
to take any money for their radium,

but they are giving it
to the world.

The Nobel Prize to a woman.

These are important matters,
Dr. Curie,

and the world must be told
about them.

Yes, the public must know.

Did they give it away free?

Where are they now?

Gentlemen, all I know

is that Pierre and Marie
are very tired.

They've been interviewed so much

that I can't see
there's anything more to tell

that the public would be
interested in.

They're sick. They've gone
away on a holiday to rest.

Now, it's utterly impossible for
any newspaperman in the world

to try to interview Dr. or
Madame Curie at the present time.

I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

I'm from the Courrier,
the newspaper in Grenoble.

Do you think I could see
Madame Curie?

I'm afraid you can't see her.
They're down here to rest.

It's their first holiday
in five years.

You wouldn't want
to disturb them.

Perhaps you could tell me
something about her.

I can't go back
without some sort of story.

Would you like to have something for
your paper that very few people know yet?

Oh, I certainly would.

Well, put in your newspaper

that the university has
granted Dr. and Madame Curie

a splendid new laboratory

with many rooms, the latest
equipment, and many assistants.

It's to be presented to them in
a formal ceremony next week.

Next week.

There, is that enough?

That's fine, that's wonderful.

I don't know how to thank you.

I can tell you I was scared
of meeting Madame Curie,

but it was rather
important to me.

You see, this is
my first assignment,

and if I could have gotten the
interview it would've helped a lot.

Well, monsieur,
you can tell your newspaper

that you got your interview
with Madame Curie.

Madame...
Goodbye.

Are you...

Are you Madame Curie?

Yes, and this is
my daughter, Irene.

It's a new tricycle,
so she has to show it off.

- And now...
- Mommy, Mommy.

Oh, here's my baby.
This is Eve.

Has she been a good baby?
Very good, madame.

Been a good baby, darling?
Yes, oui, madame.

Did she drink her milk?
Yes.

All right then...
Oui, madame.

Well, keep her out in the
air, Yvette. All right, off you go.

Now she'll make the
grand tour of the garden.

And now you'll excuse
me. Goodbye. Goodbye.

You know what I'm doing?
Pierre. I thought you were asleep.

No. I'm walking through
the new laboratory.

Don't imagine it too grand. It may
not come up to your expectations.

And at the moment, I'm
walking down a long, white hall.

Am I with you?
Yes, you're with me.

Now I'm examining
your work table.

I don't believe
it's large enough.

How is yours? Oh, we
haven't got there yet.

It will be exciting, won't it, when
we walk through it for the first time?

Yes, it'll be wonderful
to get back to work again.

We've lost so much time.

Oh, Pierre. The time we've
spent down here hasn't been lost.

We got our strength back.

Yes, that's true. We were ill,
both of us. More than we knew.

You know,
when we first came here,

I used to have some fantastically
morbid thoughts at times.

What do you mean?

Well, every day that passed
seemed so completely lost,

and I had a feeling I didn't
have much time to lose.

That my days were...
Well, it...

That I mustn't waste them,
that I had to drive ahead quickly

in order to have time to finish
everything I wanted to finish.

It's odd how one's mind will...

Why, Marie.

What a horrible thought to have.

It's just because I was so ill.

How could such a thought
have entered your mind?

Oh, darling, don't take it
so seriously.

It frightens me.

Oh, I'm sorry I mentioned it.
It was nothing.

It's just because
I was so worn out.

Really, Marie,
you know how tired I was.

Pierre, if one of us
should ever go,

the other couldn't go on alone.

Couldn't be expected of us,
could it?

Marie, I've upset you.

Could it, Pierre?

You are wrong, Marie.

Whatever happens, if one
should go, the other must stay on.

One must work just the same.

But I, for one, have no
intention of going anywhere

except to our wonderful
new laboratory.

Only one more week,
just think of it.

After all this waiting,
only one more week.

Pierre?
Yes, dear.

Come back here.

Huh?

Come back.

What is it? I want
to tell you something.

Sit down.

Well, what is it?

It's so hard.
I just can't find the words.

Pierre, are you proud of me?

Marie...
Because I'm so proud of you.

I'm so proud that
sometimes I think I'll burst.

You're a very great man, Pierre.

Not the way
the world means, just you.

Your kindness, your gentleness
and your wisdom.

I love you, Pierre, so deeply.

I never dreamed...

I'm so thankful, Pierre.

That's what
I wanted to tell you.

That's what I hope
you've always known.

"France has seen fit to bestow
upon this famous scientific couple

"a truly great honor in reward for their
services to science and to mankind."

Well, are you truly impressed?

"The president and faculty
of the University of Paris

"will present Pierre
and Madame Curie

"with a fully-equipped
laboratory

"with which to carry on
the many experiments

"they have opened
the gateway to.

"At 6:30
on the 19th of April..."

That's today, you know.

"...there will be a formal
presentation of the laboratory

"at which the world-famous
couple will appear."

Not bad, eh? Not bad.

Good morning. Good morning.
Good morning, Father.

Good morning, children.
Good morning, Pierre.

What's the matter
with this place today?

After all, it's no different
from any other day, is it?

This house is in a turmoil.
Everything is upside-down, topsy-turvy.

Nothing in its place. And where's your
mother? I haven't seen her for hours.

I don't know how I'm going to
remember anything. And, oh...

Where's my coffee? I'm late.

Oh, thank you, Lucille.

I don't know
where your mother's gone.

A house without a woman...
I--I--I don't understand.

Marie?

Mother's in there.

Uh...

What's she doing in there?

Mother's in there.
Mother's in there.

Marie?

I wouldn't go in there,
Pierre, if I were you.

She's having the last fitting
on a new dress

she's going to wear tonight
for the presentation.

It's supposed to be a surprise.

Oh, good, good.
That's a very sound idea.

Yeah, and remember,
I didn't tell you.

No, no, no.

Pardon me,
is Dr. Pierre here?

That's him.

Oh. Madame Curie
would like to see you.

You like it, Pierre? It's for
this evening, for the ceremony.

You look very beautiful, Marie.

You really like it?

I do.

Very much.

What color is that?

It's a very deep red.

You ought to have some kind of,
uh, a--a little ornament, hadn't you?

Oh, nonsense.

Yes, yes, you should.
Something bright.

I've seen them on women
and they look nice.

Now you're making me
self-conscious.

No, I was just thinking, what a
pity, evening dress becomes you so.

But there you are. We just
haven't had the time, have we?

Oh, look at that.
Our beautiful day ruined.

I was going to spend the day
in the park with the children.

Well, I must be off. I have a
hundred things to do today.

I promised to go
to the institute,

I have to look at the proofs
of my paper at the publisher's,

and endless things.

I want to clean everything up and start
fresh from the laboratory in the morning.

You mustn't be late. You must
allow yourself time to dress.

Madame, madame, the pins.

Oh.

Perhaps, one day,
I'll get a new dress suit.

Do you know I've had mine
since I got my doctor's degree?

Looks bad on me, doesn't it?

No, Pierre, no. You look
very handsome in anything.

Thank you, Marie.

Bye.
Goodbye, darling.

Perot is calling for us
at 6:00.

I'll be here.

Don't forget your rubbers. No.

Or your umbrella.
Oh, oh, oh.

Goodbye.
Goodbye, Pierre.

Pierre...

Monsieur. Madame.

Is there something
I can show you, monsieur?

Uh, I would like to buy a
pair of earrings for a lady.

We're going to a party
tonight. Yes, monsieur.

Did you have anything
special in mind?

Well, I have seen women wearing
earrings that I thought were very pretty.

Of course, I would like to get
something to match the lady's gown.

And may I ask the color
of the gown, monsieur?

It's dark red.

It's rather a special gown.

Uh, not low, of course, but...

What would you think
of these, monsieur?

They're amethysts.
They're very lovely.

Yes, aren't they?
And, uh, what are these?

Those are garnets.
Really?

They're both very lovely,
aren't they? I hardly know...

It would depend on the shape
of the lady's face.

Is it oval or round?

I would say
that her face was oval.

Yes, yes, oval.

And is she blond or...

Oh, blond, definitely.

Not too blond.
I mean, she can't... Well...

Just blond,

and her hair is sort of gold,
you know.

Gold?
Yes.

And her eyes are gray,

very calm and gray.

And her coloring
is very, very lovely.

Sort of smooth skin
and nice, delicate coloring.

And, uh... Well...

I don't know whether it
would be of any help to you,

but I believe the lady
is quite beautiful.

Look out!

It's lovely. You look
very beautiful, my dear.

Thank you.

It's rather unusual to be
praised for the way I look.

I'm sure you could have had that praise
in a great measure if you had wished it.

Thank you, Father.

I don't understand Pierre
being late, today of all days.

Well, you know Pierre.

I brought in some wine.
Oh.

I thought we might all have a drink
to that new laboratory before you go.

Oh, that was thoughtful
of you, Father.

That must be Professor Perot,
and Pierre not here.

I'll let him in.

Pierre?

Madame Curie,

it is my painful duty
to inform you

that your husband has been
the victim of a street accident.

He was instantly killed.

He can have suffered no pain.

Is she any better?

Just the same. I can't get
her to even speak to me.

I'm frightened.

Is she in there?
Yes.

Forgive me if I intrude.

I do so as Pierre's old friend,

as your old friend and teacher.

Please try to attend to what
I say. Try to hear my words.

Think what Pierre
would wish you to do.

How he would want you
to live now.

It is my belief that he
would wish you to continue

his work and yours.

My friend,

I know how much the
laboratory meant to Pierre.

I know how much
it would hurt him

if he knew
it wasn't to be yours.

It was his dream that someday

you and he would
stand there together.

I know it is hard for you to
think of going on by yourself

when you have done everything
together so many years.

But one must go on working
just the same.

You must find somewhere
within yourself

the strength to carry on
Pierre's work

and your own.

Hmm?

Ten years ago,
you told me so often

you were impressed
by something I said

when you were a student
in my class.

I spoke of Newton and Galileo,

and I said that probably none
of you would ever reach so high

to catch a star
on your fingertips.

I was wrong.

I have truly seen you reach

into the high place of knowledge

and catch a star
on your fingertips.

Marie,

there are more stars.

Yes, she was famous now.

This frail, stubborn,
eager woman

had carried on her great work
for a quarter of a century.

Madame Curie.

Even now,
after 25 years of intensive research,

we feel there is a great deal
still to be done.

We have made many discoveries.

Pierre Curie, in his suggestions
we have found in his notes,

and in thoughts he expressed to
me, has helped to guide us to them.

But no one of us can do much,

yet each of us, perhaps,

can catch some gleam
of knowledge,

which, modest
and insufficient of itself,

may add to man's dream of truth.

It is by these small candles
in our darkness

that we see before us,
little by little,

the dim outlines
of that great plan

that shapes the universe.

And I am among those
who think that, for this reason,

science has great beauty,

and with its great
spiritual strength

will, in time, cleanse
this world of its evils,

its ignorance, its poverty,

diseases, wars and heartaches.

Look for the clear light
of truth,

look for unknown, new roads,

even when man's sight
is keener far than now,

divine wonder
will never fail him.

Every age has its own dreams.

Leave, then,
the dreams of yesterday.

You, take the torch of knowledge

and build the palace
of the future.